Story Name: Pivot Point
Pen Name: ElenaRoan
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.
Warnings:
Summary: What if Anna decided to derail the apocalypse by intervening to help rather than trying to make the brothers never having existed.
Timeline: Season 4
Note: I'm Australian and I can't bring myself to use USA spelling, sorry.
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Chapter 48: Addictive Song
Sam had woken early for some reason that he couldn't place, no dream, vision, or even a migraine. Rather than disturb Dean, he hopped on the laptop to see whether there was anything new. He didn't particularly feel like diving into another case right now, but weird crap didn't stop just because a Hunter wanted a break. So, of course, an unusual article popped up. The third such incident in the last few months. With a sigh, he glanced over at his brother. Dean was still sleeping soundly, and Sam was not about to disturb him if he didn't need to. Grabbing his phone, he slipped into the bathroom; Dean would wake instantly if he opened the outside door and was nearly paranoid about Sam being outside on his own regardless of Sam being able to protect himself and called Bobby.
Some inconsiderate driver blaring a horn outside brought Dean awake with a start. Grumbling he glanced around and froze when he saw Sam's bed was empty, and his brother was nowhere to be seen. The faint sound of movement brought his attention to the bathroom, and he sat up in preparation for going to check on his brother, the last migraine had been quite a while ago, but that didn't mean it couldn't strike again. Especially as the previous few cases had put more stress on Sam than he'd like. The soft words of his brother reassured him slightly; it sounded like he was on the phone, though why he hadn't woken him, Dean couldn't figure out.
Finishing up the conversation Sam slipped out of the bathroom and sighed as he saw that Dean was awake.
"Sorry, man, I didn't want to disturb you."
"Truck horn woke me. Though you being nowhere in sight didn't help my relaxation levels." Dean told him, "you okay?"
"Yeah…just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, so I did some hunting on the laptop."
"Found anything?"
"Unfortunately. Bedford, Iowa. A guy beat his wife's brains out with a meat tenderiser."
"Yikes." Dean held onto a forlorn hope that it was just regular human on human violence.
"And get this; third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of them, all happily married."
It was sounding less and less like something not in their ballpark, but he could hope, "sounds like Ozzie and Harriet."
"More like The Shining." Sam replied, dashing that hope.
"Okay, we'd better have a look." Dean stated with a sigh; he was pretty sure Sam didn't particularly want a case at the moment, so this had to have popped up rather than being searched for.
"How about I go grab some coffees, and you get ready to get out of here?" Sam suggested.
"Nuh Uh, you're not going anywhere alone."
"Dean, I'm not about to get in trouble just going to the diner. You need to start trusting me."
Dean swore quietly, "that is definitely not what I think. I do trust you. It's all the bozos out there that I don't."
"And why am I more at risk than you are?"
"Because…because…damnit…protecting you is what I do…" Dean blew out a frustrated breath, giving the impression that he didn't trust his brother was the last thing he wanted to do. Besides, he was right. Dean was no more safe on his own than Sam even if his brother was the one heaven and hell both wanted dead; they were more than capable of using Dean to get to him, "okay, okay. Point taken. How about…we both go have the coffees, actually sit down and enjoy them before we hit the road?"
Sam visibly relaxed, "sounds good."
"Great. Well, you get started while I go take care of the call of nature."
Sam gave a light chuckle, "you do that."
Most of the salt had been cleaned up by the time Dean came out of the bathroom again; they didn't need to worry about the wardings since they wrote them with UV pen. Would probably startle a police forensics team if they ever were required to investigate one of the rooms they'd been in though. He helped finish up, get their things all into the duffel bags, and stowed in the impala.
Then they went to the diner and took over a booth in a back corner after grabbing some coffees.
"So we go in as FBI?" Dean asked after making sure there was no one close enough to overhear.
Sam shook his head, "be easier to get in to talk to the guy without running the jurisdictional pissing contest gauntlet."
"So…?"
"The one group of people who get in to talk to any prisoner without any questions are lawyers."
"Would we be able to pull that off?" Dean asked, "well…you would…you never forget anything you've learned…but I wouldn't know anything."
"It's not like we're going to go into court after all. And the article mentioned he's been rejecting all representation that's been assigned to him."
"Okay. You're the expert."
It didn't take long to get to Bedford, Iowa once the coffees, and the breakfast that Dean insisted on, were done. Their FBI clothes doubling easily for the role of public defenders.
"Why does the PD keep sending you guys?" Adam asked flatly when they were shown into a private room where he was waiting, "I already said I don't want a lawyer."
"They're lining up the firing squad." Dean pointed out.
"I'm pleading guilty."
"All right, look. You don't want us to represent you, that's fine." Dean told him, "in fact, it's not a bad idea, between you and me."
Sam pointedly cleared his throat to get Dean back on track, if the prisoner realised they weren't really lawyers they wouldn't get anything out of him.
"We just wanna understand what happened, that's all." Dean stated.
"Mr Benson." Sam prompted when the man stayed silent, "please."
"What happened was…" Adam said after a long moment, "I killed my wife…and you wanna know why? Because…she made plans without asking me."
"Then when it happened, how did you feel?" Sam asked, "disoriented or out of control?"
"Like something possessed you to do it?" Dean added.
"I knew exactly what I was doing. I was crystal clear."
"Then why'd you do it?" Dean asked.
"I don't know…I loved her. We were happy."
Dean glanced at Sam to see if it was time to spring the little gem that his little brother had dug up during the drive. A slight not had him pulling the document out of the briefcase they'd made a quick stop for before coming to the jail to see him. He put the printout down in front of Benson and tapped it.
"Nine G's." Dean commented almost casually, "that's a hefty bill."
"Where did you get that?" Adam asked nervously.
"Doesn't matter. We have it." Dean told him, continuing when he looked resigned, "see, certain charges, ones you don't want the missus to know…they show up under shady names like 'M & C Entertainment'."
"I…I don't know what you're talking about…" Adam stammered.
"Like dropping plastic at a nudie bar for instance." Dean stated, cutting him off.
"We just want to know the truth, Mr Benson." Sam added.
"Her name was…Jasmine." Benson told them with a sigh.
"She was a stripper?" Sam asked, more surprised than he should be given the finances.
"Dude, her name was Jasmine." Dean pointed out.
"I didn't mean f…for it to happen…" Adam stammered, "I don't…don't like to go to strip bars…but my buddy was having a bachelor party…and…there she was."
"Jasmine." Sam more stated than asked.
"She came right up to me." Adam continued, apparently becoming lost in the memory, "and…I…I don't know…she was just…perfect. Everything that I wanted."
"Pay enough; anybody will be anything." Dean stated.
"It wasn't about the money." He refuted, "it wasn't even about the sex. It was…I don't know…I…I don't know what it was. It's hard to explain."
"And…your wife found out?" Sam asked. That would at least make some sort of sense, out of their bailiwick sure but make sense.
"No. She never had a clue." Adam replied.
"Then why'd you kill her?"
"For Jasmine…she said we would be together forever…if…if only Vicki was…"
"Muerte." Dean mumbled, the Spanish word fitting better to his mind.
"Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet, and she never showed…" Adam continued, "I don't know where she lives, her last name, I don't even know her real first name."
"I'm an idiot." He stated with a sigh after a pause.
"And you didn't think to tell this to the cops?" Sam asked.
"What for?" Adam asked bitterly in reply, "the stripper didn't do it. I did it. And I know what I deserve. The judge doesn't give me the death sentence…I'll just do it myself."
Sam winced internally at that despairing sentence.
They excused themselves as the guards arrived to escort them back out, barely concealed surprise that they hadn't asked to leave 10 minutes ago on their faces, the fact that Adam was rejecting all representation was well known.
"You might want to put him on suicide watch." Sam commented softly as they walked away from the room.
"He already is." The guard replied, "you're not the first he's said that to."
Locating a motel they got a room, the first thing Dean did once inside was ditch the jacket, even before setting up the salt lines while Sam started drawing the various wards in the black light pen. The four that Sam always put up first lighting up briefly no longer startled him, though he did always make sure the curtains were closed.
"So what now?" Dean asked as they finished up.
"Go see the coroner I guess."
"She won't talk to a pair of lawyers."
"She will talk to a pair of FBI though."
"I knew that…"
"Of course you did." Sam dug out the FBI IDs and tossed Dean's to him.
They tracked her down in her office at the morgue, obviously nursing a hangover.
"Rough night?" Sam asked, he knew that feeling and felt a rough sympathy for her, she didn't even have the joking support of a brother to help.
"Fun night." She corrected, "rough morning. Can I help you?"
"Uh…yes. Um…I'm Special Agent Stiles, FBI." Sam replied, pulling out the ID and showing it to her, "you're Dr Cara Roberts?"
"Far as I know." She replied.
"You do some work with the sheriff's department?"
"Yeah, when I'm not slogging it through the ER." She looked at his confused expression and gave him an amused smile, "it's a small town. We multitask."
"Well, I have some questions about a case. About several cases, actually." He got back on track, "do you mind if I sit?"
She just waved at the seat on the other side of her desk.
"Great." Sam sat in the indicated chair and pulled out a notepad, "uh…Adam Benson, Jim Wylie, and Steve Snyder."
"Oh, yeah. The men who killed their wives." She commented in recognition.
"You handled the workups, right?"
Cara made an affirmative sound, "autopsies for the wives and tox screens for the perps. Two-for-one special."
Sam barely kept himself from chuckling, he liked her sense of humour, "you find anything?"
"Not really." She replied with a shake of her head, "I mean, COD in the women was pretty clear. There was nothing unusual in their system."
"What about the husbands?"
She hesitated, "can I see your badge again?"
Sam calmly pulled out the ID again and showed her, if she was acting cagy it was likely because there was something unusual she'd found.
"There was one thing…" she said after carefully looking at the badge again then turning to dig through her files, "um…an anomaly in the blood work. And I remember thinking how strange it was that it showed up in all three of the men."
"That what showed up?"
"Oxytocin. And their levels were crazy high." She answered, handing over the files.
"Uh…oxytocin?" Sam asked, he tried to recall if he'd come across anything about that at some point. Nothing came to mind, not that chemicals were often spoken of in the lore.
Cara made another affirmative sound, "it's a hormone that's produced during childbirth, lactation, and sex."
"O…kay…" Sam said slowly, the first two obviously weren't possible and he had a feeling it was way too high for the third.
"People call it the love hormone." She told him, "um…you know how it feels when you first fall in love? The whole weak-in-the-knees, tattoo-you-on-my-chest thing? That's oxytocin. Of course, it eventually fades, and then you're stuck with every relationship ever. That and the painful regimen of tattoo removal."
This time Sam couldn't contain a smile at her humour. Anything he could have said was interrupted by Dean coming in the door.
"What'd I miss?" He asked, visibly lighting up at the sight of the pretty lady coroner.
"Uh…this is my partner, Agen Murdock." Sam introduced.
"Please, 'agent' sounds so formal." Dean stated, turning on the charm and holding out his hand to her, "you can call me Dean."
"I'm Dr Roberts." She told him as she shook his hand before turning back to Sam, "so can I help you with anything else?"
Sam saw the frustrated consternation on his brother's face.
"Uh…sure. Just one more thing. This chemical…" he deliberately pretended he couldn't remember the name in part to sooth Dean a little as he handed the files back.
"Oxytocin." She supplied promptly even as she turned to stow them back in the filing cabinet.
"Oxytocin." Sam repeated, "what would cause those high levels that you found?"
"Nothing that I've ever seen." She answered with evident confusion.
Sam made a thoughtful noise before continuing, "okay, That's it. Thanks, doc."
He started to follow his brother out the door before turning to address her again, "by the way…uh…try a greasy breakfast. Best thing for a hangover."
"Watch it, buddy. I'm the only MD here." She retorted with a chuckle.
Sam gave her a grin before joining his brother. Dean near glared at him.
"Dude, you totally C-blocked me." Dean grumbled.
Sam swallowed a sigh; sometimes his brother forgot he might find someone attractive also or that they might be more attracted to him instead of Dean. Admittedly he needed far more than just physical beauty, but it wasn't unknown.
"So…uh…Wylie and Snyder fessed up, huh?" Sam asked, changing the subject as they headed out of the hospital.
"One emptied his IRA, the other, his kid's college fund, all on the same thing." Dean confirmed.
"Live nude girls?" Sam asked, not that he really thought it was going to be anything else.
"Club called the Honey Wagon." Dean answered.
"These guys have affairs with the stripper also known as Jasmine?"
"Yes and no. This is where it gets interesting. Each guy hooked up with a different chick."
Sam shot him a confused look, "so, what, these girls all connected somehow?"
"Well, they all described their stripper in the same way, the exact same way; perfect and everything that they wanted."
"Yeah…at least 'til dream barbie convinced them to murder their wives."
"There's that." Dean agreed.
"You know, it's almost like they were under some love spell."
"Sure seems that way."
"Which caused them to become totally psychotic."
"Absolutely."
Sam gave Dean an odd look as they reached the impala, "you seem pretty cheery."
"Strippers, Sammy. Strippers." Dean told him happily, "we are on an actual case involving strippers. Finally."
Sam nearly rolled his eyes, almost wondering if his brother had forgotten that those strippers had apparently been able to talk three men into killing their wives. At least he seemed to have forgotten his small fit of pique.
Dean's good mood lasted all the way to the strip club the strippers apparently worked at. He headed inside while Sam did some research.
"I'm looking for three girls; Jasmine, Aurora, and Ariel." Dean asked the manager once he found them.
"You seriously think those names mean anything to me?" The manager asked.
"One's a redhead, about 5'9". The other one's Asian, about…"
"Do you have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake…" he didn't finish the sentence, instead gesturing in the general area of his chest.
"You gotta have some paperwork, check stubs." Dean pressed, "some way to keep track of the strippers."
"Please, 'exotic dancers'." The manager corrected fastidiously, "independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left."
"Three of your customers murdered their wives." Dean pointed out, starting to get frustrated, "you don't think that's weird?"
"Yeah, I think that's super frigging weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem."
Dean glared after the manager as he walked off, then he spotted Sam across the room and headed over to his brother.
"Any luck?" Sam asked as he came up.
"No. You?" Dean returned.
"A little. Just talked to Bobby. We officially have a theory."
"What's that?"
"Siren."
"Like…Greek myth siren? The Odyssey?" Dean asked with surprise, which surprised Sam. It must have shown on his face because Dean continued, "hey, I read."
"Yeah…but the siren's not actually a myth. It's more of a…beautiful creatures that prey on men, entice them with their siren song."
"Let me guess. 'Welcome to the Jungle'? No, no. Warrant's 'Cherry Pie'." Dean joked.
"Their song is more of a metaphor, like their call, their allure, you know?" Sam explained, refusing to let his brother's compulsion to find something to joke about annoy him.
"They shake their thing, the guys zombie out?"
"Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands. Sailors would chase them, completely ignoring the rocky shores and dash themselves to pieces."
"Sounds like Adam and his buddies."
"Yeah. If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons where would you set up?"
"So whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?"
"Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most, and then they can cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion?"
"So it could all be the same chick? Morphing into different dream girls?"
"Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary."
Dean wanted to sigh, "how do we kill it?"
Sam wished he actually had something to tell his brother, "Bobby's working on it. Even if we figure that out…"
"How the hell we gonna find it? It could be anybody…" Dean finished, the music was loud enough to cover their conversation and no one looked to be paying any attention to them, "think your abilities will be able to spot them? Or protect you?"
"No idea." Sam replied with a sigh.
They weren't going to find anything more here, if the siren was present Sam couldn't sense her, so they headed back to the motel room to do some more research and get some shut-eye. The next morning brought a report of another man killing at the request of a stripper, this time it was his mother. A quick stop by the coroner and then the Sheriff's Department confirmed their suspicions; he was another victim of the siren. This time the name was 'Belle'.
"He killed his mum?" Dean asked incredulously when they were back in the impala.
"The woman he was closest to." Sam reasoned. His phone ringing interrupted anything more he could have said, he answered and switched it to speaker, "hey, Bobby."
"Sam." Bobby's voice came over the tinny speaker, "did you find her yet?"
"No." Sam told him, they really weren't sure how to go about finding her either, "and…it doesn't seem like she's slowing down any. What about you? Got anything?"
"Well some lore from a dusty Greek poem." Bobby replied, "shockingly, it's vague. It says you need 'a bronze dagger covered in the blood of a sailor under the spell of the song'."
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked.
"You got me." Bobby replied, "we're dealing with 3000 years of the telephone game here."
"Best guess?" Sam asked, what they'd do if he wasn't around to help them he didn't know. The old Hunter had forgotten more about the lore than they'd learned.
"Well…the siren's spell ain't got nothing to do with any song. It's most likely some kind of toxin or venom. Something she gets into the vic's blood…"
"That makes them go all Manchurian Candidate." Sam finished, "Uh…what do you think, she infects the men during sex?"
"Maybe." Bobby agreed.
"Supernatural STD." Dean commented.
"Well…however it happens once it's done, the siren's gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine…"
"It kills her." Sam concluded.
"Like a snake getting iced by its own venom." Bobby confirmed.
"So we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail." Dean suggested.
"Not that easy." Bobby replied, "none of those guys are under the spell anymore. Haven't got a clue where you're gonna get the blood you need."
"I think I might have an idea." Sam told him, though he wasn't going to say much in case it didn't pan out.
"Be careful." Bobby warned, "these things are tricky bitches. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit ya."
Bobby rang off then, and Dean looked at Sam, "where to?"
"The coroner." Sam answered, "think the blood samples she took might work."
"Good idea." Dean agreed.
Arriving Sam saw a slight grimace cross Dean's face as he got out of the impala.
"What's wrong?"
"Just getting a bit of a headache." Dean answered giving his forehead a quick rub before turning towards the building.
"You okay? Do we need to go back to the room?"
"Nah, I'll be fine. It's only a headache, Sammy, just took me by surprise."
Sam absently noted he had a slight headache too as they headed in.
"Dr Roberts." Sam greeted the coroner as they saw her.
"Agent Stiles." She replied with a smile, "can't stay away, huh?"
Sam saw a grin flit across Dean's face as he realised that they were both attracted to each other, his annoyance from earlier forgotten.
"Actually…we're here on business." Sam told her, "about the…the blood samples. The ones with the high…uh…you know…uh…oxytocin?"
"You still have them?" Dean asked with a bit of amusement at his brother for getting tongue-tied.
Cara made an affirmative sound.
"Good, we need them." Dean stated.
"What for?" She asked.
"Excuse me, Dr Roberts." Another voice interrupted, and she turned towards the man in the suit who'd approached.
"Yeah?" She asked.
"Excuse me." Dean interrupted, pulling out his ID, Sam following suit, "we're a little busy here, buddy."
"Yeah." He pulled out a badge of his own, "so am I, pal."
Both brothers firmly kept a straight face, this had a huge chance to get really awkward, and they couldn't afford that. Not if they were going to keep more people from dying.
"Doc, could you give us a sec please?" Sam asked.
"Sure." She answered and moved away.
"What's your name?" Dean asked confrontationally.
"Nick Munroe. What's yours?"
"I'm Special Agent Sam Stiles." Sam inserted before Dean could be more confrontational, and showing the ID again, "this is my partner, Dean Murdock. What office you from?"
"Omaha, violent crimes unit. My SAC sent me down here to see about the murders. You?"
"DC. Our assistant director assigned us." Dean answered.
"Oh, which AD?"
"Mike Kaiser." Sam answered giving the name Bobby used.
"What are your badge numbers?"
"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked incredulously, if he was seriously going to run the numbers they were going to be in trouble.
"I'm just following protocol." Nick replied.
"Look, man." Sam interjected, pulling out an official looking business card and handing it to him, that it went to one of the phones at Bobby's rather than a government building people never picked up on, "whatever. Just call our AD, he'll sort things out."
Nick walked away and put the number into his phone. They couldn't hear the conversation but could guess at its content; Bobby was very good at sounding like a pissed off supervisor. It apparently worked since he came back over apologetically.
"I'm sorry, guys."
"Yeah, just don't let it happen again." Dean returned gruffly.
"So where are you at with this?" Nick asked.
"Where are you at with this?" Dean threw the question back at him.
"Well, I was just about to run the perps' blood work." Nick stated.
"I already checked. Dean end." Sam told him.
"Oh, yeah?" Nick asked.
"Yeah." Sam confirmed.
"But get this. I feel like I found something that…uh…connects all the murderers." Nick stated.
"Really?" Sam asked as if they didn't know the connection already.
Nick nodded, "they were all banging strippers…from the same club."
"You don't say." Dean said, following Sam's lead and pretending they didn't already know.
"What do you say we go down there and check it out?" Nick suggested.
"Well, here's the thing, Nick." Dean started to reply, "see…we're kind of lone wolves…"
"That sounds like an excellent idea." Sam interjected, and he could tell that Dean nearly dropped the act to glare at him, "just give me a second with my partner and we'll…uh…one sec. Come here."
Sam pulled Dean away.
"What?" Dean asked quietly not sure whether to be concerned or annoyed. This arsehole was going to get in their way if they didn't run him off, "Spidey sense?"
"No. But you gotta keep him out of the way."
"What? Why me?"
"Because I gotta get the blood samples and we're not going to be able to do that with him hanging around."
"What am I supposed to do with him?"
"Just take him to the strip club…keep an eye out for the siren."
"That leaves you unprotected." Dean softly growled.
"I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself. Anyway, you know you've wanted to go look at them since you heard there were strippers involved."
"Yeah…but not without you."
"You know full well I'd just drag the laptop along and research while you drooled."
"I don't drool." Dean gave him a glare that didn't truly have any heat before sighing, "fine. But stay safe."
"Of course."
"Why does that not reassure me." Dean grumbled softly before turning to Nick and raising his voice, "okay, you coming or not?"
Nick appeared to jump at the chance and followed Dean out to the impala.
