Chapter two
There were many things Dean hated about his life - a sentiment not unusual among most people who found themselves in his line of work - but right now what he couldn't help but hate the most was the fact that he had indulged far too heavily at the bar last night and had apparently become far too boisterous. Well, he was now feeling the after effects. His winnings seemed a paltry compensation in the face of the punishment his body was handing out to him, which was soon to be compounded by the fact that the boss had demanded to see him.
He strode into the office and collapsed heavily in the chair across from where Kaiser - he wasn't a subtle man - was watching him over the desk, clearly unimpressed. Dean fidgeted a little to get himself comfy and looked expectantly at the room's other occupant as he crossed his ankles atop the desk.
"Dean why do you think I keep you around?" The suave businessman steepled his fingers, elbows on polished mahogany, and peered at the subject of his disgruntlement.
"Because I'm just that handsome?" Dean guessed smarmily.
The boss raised his eyebrows. His slicked back hair caught the morning light from the window and his shirt sleeves were practically blinding in their whiteness. Everything about him was neat and precise, even the eyebrows currently in danger of disappearing into his hairline.
Dean rolled his eyes, "Because I'm awesome at winning you pool money, I'm great in a bar fight and I do good work for you."
The boss sighed, "You've managed to piss off nearly everyone in our little family Dean, your last few friends have finally deserted you, and your work of late has been... Disrespectful." He held up a hand to dispel Dean's protestations, "I took you in when your were nothing more than a lost kid, I gave you direction and I gave you a family to replace the one that abandoned you... And you have completely trashed the last four jobs I gave you. Why then should I keep you around? Why would you sabotage your own work?"
"Kaiser, I don't care if you want me to rob a big company or some rich bastard who has it coming, I don't care if you want me to work over some guy who owes you money. I don't care if you want me to sabotage a business rival, I don't even care if you want me to babysit your woman of the week, even if she's being a complete bitch; but I'm not going to steal medical supplies for you. Innocent kids need that stuff or they'll die."
"You mean to tell me," Kaiser began slowly, "that you've grown a conscience? After all you've done?"
"I gotta draw the line somewhere."
"And after the... Disagreement you had with Buddy three days ago you've managed to alienate nearly the entirety of our family. I believe only Dogma and Vince are still prepared to put up with you, and Vince is only one more incident from turning on you too. Everyone else wouldn't piss on you if you caught fire, and that's not something I wish to allow, not without a damn good reason. I've already let the situation persist for too long."
"Kaiser, Buddy's just jealous. He knows I can beat his ass in a fight with both hands tied behind my back!" Dean defended.
Kaiser's expression turned black, "Kicking someone in the dick is considered cheating, if not bad form, especially if you're both meant to be on the same team. Your habit of fighting my best people, regardless of whether they're jealous of you had got to stop. You're weakening the herd from the inside and it's making your loyalties appear somewhat questionable."
Dean huffed, "I've been in this gang since I was eighteen, it's been my home and my family since my dad kicked me out - all because I refused to quit, by the way - so how can you question my loyalty?"
"Well when you were eighteen you were eager to prove yourself, you were young and impressionable. Now you're just a wild card. No-one feels they can trust you on a job or to have their backs in a brawl. Honestly I'm running out of reasons to keep you around... Unless you can prove that you're still loyal to me and the rest of the Flaming Arrows."
"What do you want me to do?" Dean sighed.
Kaiser handed him a scrap of paper. Dean took it and noted the untidy scrawl of Spock - the complicit computer nerd - denoting a name and address.
"Bring him back here," Kaiser nodded towards the note, "an example needs to be made."
Dean opened his mouth to ask what the hell the poor sap had done but was cut off, "I expect you back by Wednesday."
Dean sighed and stuffed the note in his pocket. He stood up unceremoniously and strode out the door slamming it behind him and then thundering down the dusty, wooden stairs. He was angry and he didn't care who knew it. He made his way to the bar and nodded for a whisky, his usual drink of choice.
He knocked the first measure back and tapped his tumbler on the bar for another while trying to massage his headache away. The relief his fingers provided, as always, was minimal and fleeting.
He sipped the second whisky more slowly, savouring the taste and trying to melt out of existence. When that didn't work he focused on merely ignoring his surroundings which were apparently now more filled with enemies than friends.
Once Dean felt he had fully adjusted to the day he threw a few notes of last night's winnings on the bar and trudged to his car. He caressed her sleek, black body absently as he made his way to the driver's door and got in. He took another glance at the address on the paper again before starting her up.
Dean closed his eyes to better appreciate the snarl of the engine waking up, she spoke of untamed savagery and freedom and honestly it turned him on a little bit. He let himself revel in the feel of the steering wheel and the vibrations of the seat; once his ritual was complete he put his baby into gear and rolled onto the highway.
"California here I come," he muttered to himself, "at least the chicks there will be hot."
It was just over a day's drive at Dean's unique pace to Palo Alto, including fuel stops for both him and his car and pulled up at the prescribed address a full five hours after entering the city - well he wasn't going to come all this way and not check out the local females. He patted his full stomach which was only slightly unsettled by the grease-abundant meal he had just consumed. He frowned, all the booze and the grease was beginning to take it's toll, he would have to start doing something about that if he didn't want the chicks to start turning him down; but that was a problem for another day.
He looked up at the building housing his target. It was quite unassuming, but then again most people were quite subtle in advertising their more nefarious deeds.
He got out of the car and thanked any deities that might be listening that he only had to climb one set of stairs. The building was plain and without character and Dean couldn't imagine the denizens here being the type of people to be mired deep enough in the underworld to get on Kaiser's shit list from halfway across the country. Those that did manage to run afoul of him usually fell into two categories: wealthy business execs with a penchant for the illicit, or dirty slum lords dealing usually in narcotics or prostitution. This place was far too clean cut for the latter and too humble for the former. Dean's gut gurgled and he was unsure whether the noise was from his earlier treatment of the organ or if it was in conspiracy with the warning bells sounding in the back of his head. This job was not going to end well. Clearly Kaiser meant to really put his loyalty to the test with this one.
He ascended the stairs which were carpeted in something that looked like it had seen years of abuse in a dentist's waiting room before being scraped up, scrubbed down and put to use here. He made his way past several chestnut doors each with a chrome number hanging on it, the numbers were of regular size and font and the magnolia paint that covered the walls was grubby and beginning to chip.
He reached number twenty-four and felt that there should be more significance to his environment; Dean was at a crossroads, he could feel it, what he did today would decide the course of his life forever and standing in a dime-a-dozen apartment building mass produced to house the millions across the country who couldn't afford better but didn't dare live in worse didn't quite measure up to the occasion, he thought.
He knocked on the door. He could've just turned around and left, but Dean had to at least see just what Kaiser was asking of him. It was the most significant sound he'd ever made.
The door opened and Dean found himself in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable position of looking up at the person who lived in the flat beyond.
That's weird Dean thought, the only person I've ever met who was taller than me was dad and he only had an inch on me. This guy has like three or something? The guy was young and fairly skinny and he was a typical californian college kid.
"What are you, twelve?" the thought slipped out of Dean's mouth.
"Uh, can I help you?" Said the giant with the baby face uncertainly.
Dean blinked and mentally shook himself, "Are you Sam Campbell?"
"Yeah," he replied with a frown. He was soft spoken and his voice was a little husky but not too deep. There was also a softness in his expression, despite his frown, and his posture just screamed do-gooder. This guy radiated innocence and Dean realised it had been a while since he had been in such polite company. The kid even wore a pair of rings on one of his hands, what a douche.
"Oh crap." He muttered to himself .
"Seriously dude, you ok? Did you need something?"
The kid seemed to grow more concerned but Dean wasn't paying attention, he was too busy warring with himself. "You a college kid?"
Sam's frown finally turned from concerned to annoyed, "Whatever dude," he muttered and stepped back to close the door. Dean couldn't allow that, he whipped out his gun and pointed it at the kid's chest. He immediately cursed himself for his own hesitation and subsequent panic when he saw his opportunity start to pass him by, relying on years of instincts built on violence. He had intended merely to prolong the moment of truth, to give himself time to consider and make the right decision but in doing so had forced the issue anyway.
Sam held up his hands placatingly but said nothing, it was clear to see Dean was still waging a mental battle and distractions would not be welcome.
Eventually Dean beckoned Sam outside with his gun, stepping aside so he might keep his aim as the kid stepped compliantly into the hallway. As soon as the kid stepped outside his flat, Dean heard Sam's name being gasped.
"Jess?" The kid instinctually turned his head towards the direction his name had come from and Dean took the opportunity to knock the kid out while he was distracted.
After Sam had toppled to the floor Dean pointed his gun at the newcomer. She was super hot, tall, blonde and, though slender, wasn't completely lacking in curves. She was welling up already and staring at him in fright with her hands automatically raised in surrender. The pair probably made the perfect college power couple.
"Goddammit," he cursed under his breath the raised his voice so the chick could hear, "just walk away. Walk away and forget you saw anything."
The chick didn't move. She just stood there, on the verge of tears, for a long moment before her eyes flickered to the kid unconscious at Dean's feet. There were tremors rattling from her fingers to her feet and her chest was heaving from the stuttered breaths which were all she was capable of taking. She was two steps away from breaking down, scaring her off shouldn't be that hard.
He clicked the safety off his gun with deliberate, slightly exaggerated movements and brought his gun up to target her face while taking a step forward. "Trust me sweetheart, you don't wanna come along for this ride. So why don't you just go back to your cheerleading squad and pretend you never saw me."
"W-what do you want with him?" she stammered.
"Well that is between him and my boss, but since I was sent here to grab him, I doubt it's for a friendly chat over a cup of coffee. Now, you've got one last chance to get out of here before I do something I'm sure I'll regret after the first five minutes."
"Are you going to shoot me?"
Dean sighed heavily, "Not straight away - although I'm not taking it off the table completely. You're gonna come on this road trip with us. Now, if you do exactly as I tell you, nobody has to get hurt, understand?" Dean waited for her reluctant, timid nod before he continued, slowly stalking towards the girl, "We're going to go downstairs and you're going to wait in my car while I come back for your boyfriend."
Dean left his unconscious hostage on the floor and concentrated firstly on securing the girl who had just the worst timing. She was teary and shivering but equally as compliant as Sam had been and Dean had her sat in his car with hands cuffed to her door - after confiscating the chick's phone - and was back in front of his original target in good time.
"Holy crap," he muttered as he bent to pick Sam up. This dude is freaking heavy! He must be made out of rocks or something.
It took Dean considerably longer to drag Sam down to his car under the dead weight of what seemed like the Hulk's less angry, less green little brother. He eventually managed to dump Sam into the backseat of his baby and as a precaution cuffed his hands to her door too.
He again took his hostage's phone, tucking it into his own pocket; after that was done he slipped into the driver's seat and drove, trusting his baby to know the road for him.
The chick was full on sobbing now and Dean glanced at her uncomfortably. He had been faced with sobbing victims before, cowards who couldn't accept their punishment and begged for mercy before he'd even started but he had very little sympathy for them. He had never had someone volunteer themselves as a hostage before. He turned up the radio to drown out her sobs and drove out of town wondering just what the hell he'd gotten himself into.