Background : Evangeline Chung is a hunter, thrown into the life after a monster slaughtered her family. She met Sam Winchester in a chance encounter just before the Apocalypse and has been part of their lives ever since then.
Dean Winchester loves her, and she loves him, but it's the angel, Castiel, who truly holds her heart. Her relationship with the celestial being is cause for contention within the Men of Letters Bunker, but for the sake of their unconventional family a truce has been made.
Her story is told in another fic, The Girl With the Black Dragon Tattoo.
"What've we got?"
"Female, late twenties/early thirties. Local beat cop found her in the garbage, unconscious. Signs of prolonged torture."
"Just like the other three. Any signs of rape?"
"Haven't gotten that far, but there's bruising on her thighs. I'll know more after the autopsy."
"He's never killed before."
"First time for everything."
"Damn. We better find this one, quick. He's ramping up and so far he doesn't show any sign of stopping."
"And not a single reliable witness. Black man, white man, Hispanic man; over six feet, under 5'8"; black hair, red hair, blonde hair—"
"We got the point, Carisi. Better let Liv know what's up."
"Hold up. There's something on her hand. A stamp."
"I know that one. Belongs to a local club, Sapphire. About four blocks down."
"Hunting grounds?"
"Sounds like a good place to start."
Evangeline tilted over just far enough to use the Impala's sideview mirror to adjust her makeup. At five and a half feet, the young Asian woman made for a compact figure, deceptively fragile looking. Anyone who dared to lay a hand on her would undoubtedly be in for a shock; Evangeline Chung was a hunter, a killer of the supernatural, who had taken down much more intimidating prey than an egotistical grown man lacking control of their libido.
She smacked her now matte-red lips a few more times before straightening. When she turned around she nearly leapt from her skin; Dean Winchester was standing right behind her. "Fucking hell, Dean!" Evangeline snapped.
His green eyes swept down and up her attire. Both approval and disapproval was reflected in his gaze. "I still don't like this plan."
Evangeline looked down, a curtain of long, straight black hair spilling down her shoulders. From her stilettos to her short, black skirt, up to the red, deeply cut top, the woman was dressed specifically to attract the wrong sort of attention. "I'm bait, remember?" she asked as she looked back up. "Dickhead shifter kidnapping women so he can torture and rape them?"
Dean moved slightly forward, one hand reaching out to grasp the Impala's roof. "Still a stupid fucking idea. You're gonna get hurt."
They were close, intimately so. Gently, Evangeline put her hand on Dean's chest and pushed. "We talked about this," she said quietly.
The other hunter stepped back, chagrined. "It ain't like I can just turn it off and on."
"I know." Evangeline lifted up on her toes and kissed him gently on the cheek. "I'll be careful. I promise."
Dean resisted sweeping the woman into his arms for a far more engaging encounter. They loved one another, but their brief foray as a couple had been disastrous. Moreover, there was another who cherished her, and, much to Dean's chagrin, Evangeline found happiness with him, far more than she could have tied down in their tempestuous relationship.
"Hey," Sam said as he rounded the trunk. "You guys ready?"
The Winchester brothers, regularly dressed in jeans and flannels, sported slacks and collared button-downs, looking for all the world as if they were nothing other than single men about to engage in a night of single-man revelry. "Dennis started his shift?" asked Dean.
"Yeah, just watched him switch with the other guy." Sam glanced from his brother to his brother's erstwhile paramour and took stock of the tension between them. "We don't have to do this tonight," he said carefully.
Evangeline made a noise somewhere between a raspberry and a snort before marching down the parking lot towards the club. The Winchesters exchanged consternated glances before following.
Sergeant Fin Tutuola took a long look around the meat market and gave a sigh. The place was packed wall to wall with potential victims, but as their current serial rapist-turned-killer had left no other substantial clues on poor Mariana Lopez' body this was the only lead.
Their mystery antagonist had begun their spree five weeks prior. A victim a week had been discovered, all young women, left discarded naked in alleyways on top of garbage. Up until last night, however, all of the women had been found alive; beaten, cut, and raped, but alive. Whether Mariana's death had been purposeful or accidental they weren't certain. A few more hours and Dr. Warner would have more answers.
A pair of pretty-boys with an attractive young Asian entered. She laughed at something the taller one said before making her way towards the dance floor. Fin couldn't pinpoint exactly what made him eye the trio so speculatively. Perhaps it was the way they moved; too fluid and wary to be just a group of friends out for a good time. Perhaps it was how all three were scanning the crowd while pretending to order drinks and (in the woman's case) grind on a handsome stranger. Perhaps it was the bulge of a firearm Fin spotted as an outline on the back of the shorter man's coat when the pair sat down.
"Heads up," Fin said into his mic. "Two dudes, white guys, at the bar. At least one's packing."
"What're you thinking?" came the slightly Southern voice of his partner: lithe, blonde Detective Amanda Rollins who, in keeping with their subterfuge as simple club patrons, was rocking to the DJ's beats on the very edge of the dance floor.
"Not our guy, but might wanna keep an eye on them just in case."
"You're just jealous they're prettier than you."
"Focus, people," ordered Lieutenant Olivia Benson, their commanding officer. She and Detective Sonny Carisi, the newest member of their squad, were in a mobile unit in a nearby alley watching the proceedings through the club's security cameras.
The four seasoned Special Victim's Unit detectives watched from their unique viewpoints, doing their best to see through the mass of bodies in order to pinpoint a possible serial rapist. "This is impossible," Carisi groused, his Brooklyn accent thickening in line with his aggravation.
"It's the only lead we've got," Benson murmured. "Better safe than sorry." She peered at the two men Fin had identified. "Why do they look so familiar?"
"Maybe they're movie stars? Or they're on TV?"
"I'm not sure."
Sam watched his brother nurse his beer and frowned. "You sure you're okay with this?"
"Why wouldn't I be? She's a big girl."
"No, I mean—"
"I know what you mean." Dean shrugged. "If we weren't here then she'd go off and do it on her own. You know how she is."
"Yeah." At the moment, Evangeline was dancing with a blonde, slightly older than her, with shoulder-length hair and an engaging grin. "Check it out."
"Hel-lo," Dean murmured appreciatively. "Hey, you ever think—"
"No."
"Guess you would know."
Sam grimaced. He'd spent some time intimately with Evangeline as well, though the circumstances had been far different. It wasn't like his brother to bring up such a harrowing time, but Sam understood why. "You think she told Cass?"
"No."
"How're you do—"
"I swear to God, Sam, if you ask me again if I'm okay with those two I will punch you in the face."
They sat in silence for a bit, lost in thought. This was far different, Sam reflected, than when Dean had lost Cassie or even when he'd given up Lisa. It was much more difficult for Sam's brother to let go of the woman he loved when his best friend was the one who had stolen her away, particularly with the four of them having taken permanent residence in the Men of Letters Bunker. Having his rejection thrown in his face whenever Castiel came home must be tearing Dean apart.
The blonde had moved on. Dean's eyes followed her hungrily, which is why he saw when she pressed a finger to her ear and began speaking. The sudden stiffness of her demeanor and the way her eyes swept from the brothers back to Evangeline made him instantly suspicious. "I think we got cops," he muttered into his beer.
"The blonde?"
Of course Sam would have seen it first. "Yeah." The blonde had resumed her farce but neither Winchester was fooled. "If there's one then there's a shit-ton more around here."
"Hey! We gotta go!"
Evangeline lifted her eyebrows at Dean. "What for?"
"Cops."
The female hunter nodded. She knew about their past with the law. As misinformed as the feds or the local precinct might be they could cause the brothers a monstrous amount of problems. "Right."
"Let's go." Dean grabbed her wrist to help haul her through the crowd. Eva's lip curled in an angry snarl. They were going to have words, again, about how his overprotectiveness was both unnecessary and unwanted. Besides, he was holding her so tightly she was bound to have bruises.
"We better bail." Their names and faces, as far as Sam and Dean knew, were still in the FBI database. Presuming that they were listed as "deceased," courtesy of having defeated a few homicidal Leviathan, didn't mean much; they'd been classified as such before and they had still gotten pinned.
"Right." Dean stood. "Shit!"
"What?"
"Where's Eva?"
Panicked, the Winchesters scanned the dance floor. Their friend, their decidedly overeager bait, was gone.
"Screenshot that," Benson told the technician, "and put it through facial recognition. I just can't shake the feeling—"
"Hey, Lieutenant?" Rollins said through her earpiece. "That Asian woman who came in with the two men? She's gettin' pulled away by one of them and she ain't lookin' too happy about it."
"Follow them. Fin?"
"You sure?" the sergeant asked doubtfully. "'Cause I'm lookin' at the two of 'em right now and they're still at their table."
Carisi and Benson exchanges bewildered glances. "What the hell is going on?" the lieutenant wondered.
"Hey, Liv?" Carisi asked, his finger on the screen showing the rear door. "Look at that."
"They're heading for the back," Benson called to her two detectives inside.
"No, no. I mean, look at this guy's eyes."
The lieutenant leaned in, her gaze narrowed. "Are… Are they glowing?"
"God fucking damnit," Dean cursed as he shoved his way between two couples, "fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
"There!" Sam said urgently. His greater height enabled him to see over the gyrating mass of club patrons to the rear exit. Eva's angry mien disappeared a moment later through the door.
The Winchesters pushed through the dance floor. Unbeknownst to them, two detectives were on their heels while another was receiving unpleasant news.
"Sam and Dean Winchester," the technician told Benson. "From the FBI database."
"Jesus," Carisi gasped. "I remember these guys now. They went on a murder spree couple o'years back. Shot up a bank and a diner. Thought they were dead."
"Fin, Rollins," Benson said urgently, "you hear?"
"Copy that," Fin replied.
The Winchesters burst through the rear exit to find nothing but an empty alley. A manhole at their feet was slightly ajar. Dean knelt to flip it open just as the door birthed the blonde and a black man, both with service revolvers out and ready. "Police! Hands up!" the woman shouted.
"Lady," Dean growled as he and his brother complied, "this ain't a good time."
"Where's the woman?"
"That's what we'd like to know!"
"Look, officers, we're feds," Sam said in a valiant attempt to lie. "If you would just let us get our ID's, we can explain everything."
"Yeah, bullshit," the black man said derisively. "We already know who you are: Sam and Dean Winchester. Our only issue now is gonna be askin' why the feds think you're dead."
Sam caught Dean glancing desperately at the open manhole. It was the same trick that a shifter had pulled on them in St. Louis; take off, slip down into the sewers, and go incognito in the maze beneath the city. "Don't," Sam whispered.
"She's gonna be—"
"Fin? Rollins?" called another woman as she hurried over. Attractive, middle-aged, and emanating an aura of authority, the other cops deferred to her as soon as she approached. "What happened?"
"Girl's gone," said the black man.
The newcomer looked from one Winchester to another. "Take these back to headquarters. Separate cars, separate interrogation rooms."
Sam submitted to being cuffed with frustrated resignation, but Dean struggled. "You assholes don't know what kind of monster you're messin' with."
"Two career criminals who murder and disturb the dead," the older woman snarled. "I'd say I know exactly what kind of monster I'm messing with."
Lieutenant Benson walked from one interrogation room window to the other, taking stock of the way the Winchester brothers were handling their predicament. The taller one, Sam, had his hands flat on the table as he stared off into space. His brow was furrowed, but other than that he hadn't made any outward display of agitation.
It was the other Winchester, Dean, that had Liv and her squad on edge. He had his fingers clasped tightly together, the knuckles white. His leg was bouncing up and down underneath the table. Either of these could have been just tension brought on by his potential incarceration if it weren't for his eyes.
Dean Winchester's glare bore right through the one-way glass. At first, Benson thought it was the killer in the man coming to the fore. After a while, however, she realized that what she was seeing was blame. Pure, unadulterated fury directed squarely at her squad. The reason why was a mystery.
"How do you wanna do this?" Fin asked.
"It can't be coincidence," Benson murmured, "them being here at the same time as our serial rapist. They're either involved or they know what's going on."
"We bringin' in the feds?"
"So they can walk all over our investigation? Let's keep them away as long as possible." The lieutenant sighed. "You go in there with Rollins. Carisi and I will talk to Sam."
"Got it."
Sam heaved a sigh when the door finally opened. Time for the ol' law enforcement song and dance.
Normally he and his brother could get away with snark and obfuscation. It gave them the time to plan an escape or, at the very least, muddle the reason why they'd been arrested in the first place. This time, however, the life of someone they cared about was at stake. The sooner they could get out, the better.
A skinny, pale detective and the older woman from earlier (the lieutenant, Sam thought), sat down across from him, a manila folder in hand. "I'm Detective Carisi and this is Lieutenant Benson," the man said pleasantly. "And you are the infamous Sam Winchester."
"Look," Sam urged, "this is all a mistake."
"I'm sure it is," said Benson. She opened the folder and the ubiquitous mugshots appeared. "Sam and Dean Winchester. Charges of credit card fraud, breaking and entering, impersonation of a police officer, impersonation of a federal officer, assault, corpse desecration, kidnapping, murder." The woman slapped the pages closed. "Not to mention the fact that in 2011 the pair of you were reported to have been slain while in custody."
"I can explain—"
"Really," Carisi scoffed.
Irritated at the detective's demeanor, Sam leaned back in his chair and looked away. It wouldn't do him or Dean any good to get into any more trouble.
"You're gonna be sorry," Dean snarled as soon as the black man and the blonde entered the room.
"Yeah?" asked the man. "Why's that?"
"Because I'm not the guy you're lookin' for. Means you're wasting your fucking time."
The pair stared disbelievingly. "Really."
Three different ways to escape had already occurred to the hunter before the detectives had entered. Two more came to mind after. "I'm gettin' out of here. One way or the other. It's better for you and yours if you just went and let me go."
"That a threat?"
Dean smirked. "A promise."
After several more pointless questions, Sam had had enough. The woman he'd come to think of as part of his family could be dead, dying, or worse by this point. There was little to no doubt in his mind that the shifter had picked Evangeline out of that crowd because he knew what they were and why they had come to the city. "You're wasting time!" Sam shouted. "Go down that manhole, you'll find your evidence!"
"What makes you think we can trust you?" asked Carisi.
"Please, I'm begging you to listen. That woman you keep asking about is a friend, a good friend. If you've been looking for this guy then you know what he's going to be doing to her!"
"Okay," Benson said softly. "Okay, fine. So then tell me: who are we looking for? A name? A description? Something we can use."
A name? Oh, the shapeshifter probably had had one, once upon a time, but who knew what he went by now. A description…? Of which identity could they go by? Was it even a man?
Maybe… Maybe he could go for the truth. "You're not looking for a 'who.' It's a 'what.'"
The detectives exchanged bemused glances. "I don't understand," said the lieutenant.
"It's…" How to put it in a way that civilians could comprehend? "It can… it knows how to change appearances. It can make itself look like anyone. Which is why you need to do what I said and go check out that sewer!"
"He knows how to disguise himself," Carisi said thoughtfully. "Like a makeup-artist or something."
Exasperated, Sam merely said, "Sure."
"Then he's still gotta have a name, a handle, some kinda ID."
"No, because he'll just take whatever one he's borrowing at the time."
"That's… improbable," Benson said. "But not out of the realm of possibility."
"Aw, c'mon lieutenant!" her detective said belligerently. "It's obvious what's going on here. These two mooks got a third guy they're covering for and now that they've been caught they're trying to throw him under the bus!"
At their recalcitrance Sam bent over to clutch his head; his hands had been cuffed to the table. The last time they'd dealt with a psychopathic shifter they'd had use good old fashioned hunter detective work. A woman had nearly died and Sam's friend had been severely hurt by the thing before it could be taken down. Now, however, they had better connections.
"Cass," Sam muttered into the table, "we're in New York. Midtown Manhattan. Police station. Eva's been kidnapped."
A breeze swirled through the room, blowing the manila folder and it's contents to the floor. "What's happened?" the angel demanded.
"JESUS!"
"You think you can get away with threatening a police officer?" Fin shouted.
To the detective's consternation, Dean Winchester merely smiled. "There ain't nothin' you got that'll scare me," he said softly.
The veteran police officer was taken aback. Some of the perps Fin had encountered blustered and strutted in the interrogation room, their bravado stemming from desperation. Sure, there was the odd psychopath or sociopath who merely didn't care, but this was different.
For one, Dean Winchester hadn't made any denials or accusations regarding either his involvement with the woman's disappearance or any of his other alleged crimes. He had threatened to escape, but he hadn't directly offered violence in one way or the other.
For another, Fin noticed that Dean hadn't directed any of his ire at Rollins. She was still dressed in her undercover attire, skintight pants and a low-cut, loose blouse. Her partner had caught the man sneaking glances at his partner's… assets, something every male (and a few female) officers in the building had done from time to time. As protective as he was over the woman, Fin had learned to interpret those looks as either predatory or admiring, and Dean Winchester definitely fell in the latter category.
"Fine," Fin finally snarled, making the best of the impression he was giving of the "bad cop" in the room. "You talk to this psycho," he told Rollins. "I'm outta here."
The two detectives exchanged a moment of silent communication. Rollins knew what Fin intended. Time to be the sultry Southern belle.
Except as soon as Fin opened the door, all three of them could hear Carisi's muffled, "JESUS!" from the other room. Both detectives rushed out and left the suspect (and the paper clip he'd purloined on the way in) alone.
Both Benson and Carisi's chair clattered to the floor. The lieutenant merely backed warily towards the door, but Carisi had his firearm out and pointed the second he was standing. "Who are you?" he shouted. "How the hell did he get in here?"
The stranger, a blue-eyed, dark-haired man in a suit and a trench coat, ignored the questions. His fists were clenched. "Sam…"
"She volunteered!" the cuffed man explained. "You know how she is."
"What has her?"
The door burst open as Winchester replied, "A shapeshifter. A psychopath. Can you—"
"Liv?" Fin asked worriedly. "What's going on?"
Benson gestured her sergeant to be quiet. The conversation before them was far more informative than the interrogation they'd been trying to hold a moment ago. She was certainly shocked, far more than she was letting on, but if what was happening before her helped them nail their rapist she was willing to put her own questions aside for now.
"I can't," the stranger was saying. "You are all cloaked from me, even her."
"Lieutenant?" Carisi asked, his voice and his gun quivering. "Are we just lettin' this go?"
"Mr. Winchester," Benson said carefully. "You will need to explain this. Now."
Sam Winchester ignored her, much to all her squad's frustration. "Then pinpoint all the shifters in the city."
"We are in New York," the other man snapped. "There are approximately two hundred shifters living here, along with a like number of vampires and twice as many spirits. I cannot possibly investigate them all!"
Tired of being ignored, and realizing that the men's parley was getting nowhere, Benson stepped forward and slammed her hand on the table. "Enough! Mr. Winchester, I don't know what sort of trick this is—"
"It's not a trick!" Sam said. "I needed help."
The trench coated man had yet to acknowledge anyone else. "Where was she last?"
"Alleyway behind a club called Sapphire."
"Let's go." To the four detectives' complete astonishment, the stranger grabbed the chain links between Sam Winchester's cuffs, gave an effortless pull, and snapped the steel apart.
A second surprise had Fin and Rollins stumbling sideways as an unbound Dean Winchester pushed his way inside. "Cass! Get us out of here."
That singularly undesirable statement had the SVU squad jumping to panicked decisions. Fin immediately moved to restrain the elder of the brothers and found himself reaching for empty space. The man came back up from his ducking position fist-first, knocking the veteran detective back into the wall.
Both Benson and Sam shouted desperately for calm as Rollins jumped into the fray, two fingers in a jabbing position. Dean took the blow intended for his throat in his arm, but was taken by surprise when the woman's foot connected with his stomach. He let out a grunt as the mystery figure, Cass, moved to his aid.
"Freeze!" Carisi ordered over the noise. The trench coated man paid no heed. Others repeated the order, and when the newcomer grabbed Rollins' collar Carisi reacted.
Two shots exploded in the small, bricked room, silencing the growing melee. Everyone stared at the back of the stranger's coat. A pair of smoking holes now marred the fabric. He released Detective Rollins and turned around. Matching exit wounds ruined his white button down, their appearance made more startling by the lack of blood.
The silence stretched uncomfortably… right up until Rollins coughed wetly and collapsed onto the ground.
"Call a bus!" Fin cried at the squad-room as he knelt down to try and stem the flow from the wounds in her chest. It was hopeless, he could see that, but he had to try something.
"Move," the trench coated man ordered. He shoved Fin aside with a strength belied by his size and put his hands above both of the woman's wounds.
A bright light emanated from the stranger's palms, slightly blinding everyone present. Rollins cried out and tried to lurch upwards, her face contorted in pain. A few moments later Cass closed his palms, the light dissipating, and moved away.
Rollins pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her partner reached a hand out and helped her to her feet. When she put a hand on where her blouse was bloodied it came back clean. "What…?"
"You're welcome," Cass said caustically before stumbling into the wall.
"All right, that's it," Benson shouted definitively. "Cancel the bus. I want everyone in my office. Now."
"Us, too?" Sam wondered, confused.
"You all, especially."