No halo, baby I'm the reason why Hell's so hot
Inferno, baby I'm the reason why bad's so fun,
Hell's so hot, oh so...
Terribly terrible, she's a villain
One as sweet as caramel, she's my saint
Think I'm getting butterflies, but it's really
Something telling me to run away...
No halo, baby I'm the reason why Hell's so hot
Inferno, baby I'm the reason why bad's so fun,
Hell's so hot, oh so...
Sub Urban and Bella Poarch, Inferno
Alice's ringtone woke her from an uneasy sleep. She sat up, stomach churning and head pounding. The after effects of her little ritual shared symptoms with an awful hangover, minus the fun parts that preceded one. She grumbled as she hit the button to take the call.
"Yeah?"
"Alice?"
"Dean. Did you get it?"
"I got it."
"Great. Great, uh... ok. Give me a minute, I'll get a location on the shifter and call you back. We can meet up near the bastard and get this thing done."
"No! No, not yet," Dean said quickly. "Let's meet up first, then worry about finding the thing."
Alice frowned. The proposal was awfully inefficient. Call Dean what you would, he was rarely inefficient or late for dinner.
"Dean, that makes no sense. Why..."
Suspicion filled Alice.
"Why worry later when you can worry now?" she prompted.
"Well, worrying'll kill you if you do too much of it," Dean responded. Alice's blood ran cold.
The phrase was code. So Allison had taught Dean more than sign language after all.
Someone on the other end of the line cursed under their breath, just loud enough for Alice to hear.
"You're really using our family's codes to tip that traitor off? Like we don't all know what that means. Moron."
"Sorry, Alice. He threatened Mary," Dean growled.
"Tell him the jig is up," Alice sighed. "Put him on."
"She wants to talk to you."
"Big mistake, Winchester."
The man's voice grew louder, clearer.
"Alice Smith. It's been a long, long time."
"Sure. Do I know you?"
"You should. I saved your life once."
"Sorry pal, if I had a nickel for everyone who saved my life, I'd have enough money to hire someone to save my ass full-time. You're gonna need to be more specific."
"My name is Micheal Dixon-Smith. I opened a door for you once. Remember me now?"
"Oh yeah, that time when Greta was gonna sacrifice me," Alice recalled. "Fun times."
"Opening that door was the worst mistake I ever made in my life. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to rectify it."
"Big words. You have to find me first."
"Do I?"
"Well, I'm sure as hell not coming to you."
"Not even if I put this call on speaker phone and let you listen while I slice pieces off your boyfriend here?"
"Who, Dean? Maybe you never got the memo, bub, but we fell out a long time ago. Don't waste your time."
"Well I gotta say, for two people supposedly fallen out for so long, he was awfully slow to give you up. My money's on this fling not being as dead as you two say it is."
"How much money? I'll take it off your hands if you feel like throwing it away."
"You're bluffing."
"Think so? Call it then."
"Fine."
A long, torturous moment passed, tension intensifying Alice's headache. She searched for ibuprofen while she waited. As soon as she found the bottle, she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist smashing into someone's face. Dean's abrupt cries sounded hollow and far away over the phone, but they still made Alice flinch. The beating went on while Alice's mind raced, paralyzing her.
What to do? She couldn't hand herself over to the Smiths. They were going to kill her. If she didn't hand herself over, they were going to kill Dean. Slowly, if the sound of it was any indication. Could she buy herself time by putting her cards on the table, folding her bluff and begging Micheal to stop? No. That would only make things worse.
Alice had no choice but to double down and take this game to the next level. She had been running from the Smiths for seven years, hiding, pulling punches. Now, they had finally managed to corner her. Alice resolved to make them regret it.
On the line, the sounds of the beating stopped. Micheal Dixon-Smith picked the phone up again, breathing heavily into the receiver, winded after assaulting Dean.
"So, Alice. You were saying?"
Alice snarled silently, lips curling back with unvoiced rage as her eyes narrowed to slits. She hung up and hurled her phone against the wall with a primal scream. She hated having her hand forced. She hated herself for sending Dean into the meat grinder. More than anything in the world, she hated, loathed, absolutely despised her family.
"This is the last damn time, damn Smiths, if they think..."
Alice grabbed the bottle of chloroform, muttering darkly to herself as she soaked a rag with it, preparing to ditch her host for a while.
It was time for drastic action.
"Alice? Alice? Alice!"
Dean heard the line go dead. He spit out a mouthful of blood as Micheal hit redial.
"Don't leave me a message. Lose this number. That means-"
Dean laughed at Micheal maniacally as he stared at the phone in disbelief.
"Alice doesn't give a crap what happens to me!" Dean spat, still laughing even as dread filled him. It was too funny, the thought that after all this time, everything he'd been through, it was Alice who would get him killed. He should have known better, should have known she was bad news. He did know it, as a matter of fact. He remembered very clearly every misgiving he'd had coming into this. He'd known working with Alice was a bad idea and he'd done it anyway. He played with the devil and now he was getting his due.
"No way. I don't buy it. It's a ploy," Micheal growled, advancing on Dean to smack him again. Dean kept laughing, unable to get over the unbearably ironic geese coming home to roost over his head.
Despite the gravity of the situation, hope sprung eternal. Through the pain raining down on him like a meteor shower, Micheal's jacket fell open, baring the knife sheathed at his hip. In his rage, he was too close to Dean, too busy venting his frustration to make sure the blade was out of Dean's reach...
Carol watched from by the door, teeth pulling at her lip as her brow furrowed at her cousin's loss of control.
"Dixon, I don't think-"
"They're playing us!" Micheal shouted, interrupting Caroline as he pelted Dean with blow after blow. " They think we're stupid enough to fall for-"
"DIXON!"
Caroline shouted and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Dean.
"TAKE A WALK, DIXON!" she barked, pushing his chest with both hands and sending him stumbling toward the door. The sheer volume and authority she managed to conjure surprised Dean. It didn't match her appearance or the demeanor she'd shown him earlier.
"BACK OFF, CAROL!" Micheal shouted back, advancing again. Caroline positioned herself between him and Dean, hands on her hips as she blocked his way. He got in her face, cutting an intimidating figure with nearly a foot more height than she had and rage that rolled off him in waves.
"You're too close to this! You're being sloppy!" Caroline snapped, undaunted by her cousin.
"CAROL!"
"Use your brain, Dixon!" Caroline hissed. "Whether it's a play or not, whether or not he's any good as a bargaining chip, he's no good to us dead! Which is what he's gonna be if you don't get yourself under control! So TAKE. A. WALK!"
"Kaydie left me in charge!" Micheal reminded her. "You're way out of line!"
"So take a walk and call Kaydie!" Caroline said, holding her ground as he bore down over her. They locked gazes for a long time, battling wills while Dean bled quietly behind them, watching the show down that would determine his immediate fate. Blood streamed from his nose and he could feel his right eye swelling shut. Finally, Micheal scoffed and backed down.
"I'm not calling Kaydie. And you're not calling her either. You understand, Carol? Alice is mine."
"You want revenge, I get it," Caroline started.
"How could you?" Micheal hissed scornfully. "You weren't here! You didn't even see the attack! You didn't watch while she murdered-"
"I lost family too that day, Dixon!" Caroline spat. "What, you think it was any easier finding out about it after the fact?! Coming home to-"
She stopped herself, glancing back at Dean like she'd just remembered he was there. She grabbed Micheal's arm and hauled him out of the room with her, slamming the door behind them. Outside, Dean could still hear them fighting, trading words too muffled by distance for him to make out.
"Sloppy bastard," Dean sneered softly, his tone nasal past a nose that was probably broken. He grinned through bloody teeth and flipped Micheal's knife out from under the armrest of the chair he was tied to. Careful as the Smiths were, emotion could make anyone slip up. Especially ones as violent as those Micheal was allowing to consume him.
Dean grunted, wincing as he struggled to twist his wrist far enough to saw at his bindings. His tendons felt like they were going to snap, pressure from the ropes stopping them from pulling as far as they naturally could. His fingers grew numb, pins and needles settling in his fingertips as he strained to keep his grip on the knife at such an awkward angle. Outside, he realized he couldn't hear the Smiths fighting anymore. He hurried, fearing his window was closing quickly. The rope frayed, split and finally fell away.
"Hell yeah! Now we're talking!"
Dean sliced through the ropes binding his other hand and bent down to free his feet. As soon as he took his eyes off the door, he heard it opening.
"What the... Hey!"
He froze and looked up to see Caroline pointing a gun at him.
"Damn it."
Disappointment settled over Dean like a layer of fresh snow, turning him into a statue while his spirits fell to the floor. Caroline surprised him by looking amused. She fought back a smile even as she spoke firmly.
"Knife on the floor. Slide it over. You try anything, I shoot."
Dean complied, settling back in the chair with a sigh while Caroline retrieved the knife. She examined it, snorting when she saw Micheal's initials on the hilt. She tucked it into her belt.
"I gotta hand it to you, that was a good trick," she said appreciatively.
"Spare me the good cop routine," Dean groaned.
"So I guess you don't want this then?" Caroline asked, keeping her gun trained on him while she pulled a rag out of her pocket. She tossed it to him and he caught it, gingerly stemming the flow of blood from his nose.
"I'm gonna put this away," Caroline went on, relaxing her grip on the gun. "Just bear in mind, I'm a quick draw and a great shot. Don't make me shoot you, ok?"
Dean just glared at her while he wiped the worst of the blood off his face. Still, hopelessness didn't overtake him. He had one final, desperate play to make.
Dean said a prayer, reached out to his guardian angel. He waited for Castiel to appear at his side.
"I'm sorry about Micheal. He's off the reservation. I guess he-"
"Look, drop the act!" Dean snapped, fed up with Caroline. "I wasn't born yesterday! I've been on both ends of more interrogations than... you know what, just stop, ok?! You're not fooling anyone with the nice girl routine."
"I don't have any routines," Caroline said, rolling her eyes. "If you've been through so many interrogations, you ought to know we don't need anything else from you."
"Bull. If you didn't want something from me, I'd be dead already."
"We're not the bad guys, Winchester. You're a good hunter. We've got no problem with you, we just want Alice. After that, you're free to go."
"Not the bad guys. Interesting line from the people threatening to go after my kid," Dean hissed.
"Like I said, Micheal's off the reservation."
Dean snorted derisively and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his nose straight up to his brain like daggers.
"Ugh! Well, a Smith with a conscience... I gotta say, that's a first."
"Come on, Winchester, you have to know our family's not all bad," Caroline frowned. "I mean, you married one of us, after all."
Dean did a double take, bewilderment crossing his battered features.
"Excuse me? No I didn't!"
"Really? You and Allison Smith never..."
"Why the hell does everyone think that was a thing?" Dean demanded.
Caroline shrugged and raised her hands.
"Whatever. Not my business."
"Damn right it's not! That sure as hell didn't stop you creeps from spying on us for years! Don't talk to me about Smiths not being the bad guys. If it walks like a duck and talks like a-"
Dean was interrupted by a world-rending crash from outside. The ground shook beneath their feet and pieces of plaster pelted Dean and Caroline as the house wobbled dangerously from some enormous impact. If Dean didn't know better, he would have thought an airliner crashed just outside.
"What the-"
Dean's chair toppled over, taking him with it. Caroline drew her gun immediately and even through the shock of being thrown to the ground, Dean was impressed with her vigilance. She wasn't lying when she said she was a quick draw. His head spun and ached, ears ringing and stars dancing across his field of vision from his head hitting the tiles.
"Ugh! What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, clutching his head as Caroline stumbled, leaning against the wall for support as the world settled around them. The dust from the ceiling stopped falling and the shaking stopped. They both coughed through the white cloud that engulfed them. Dean wondered what the hell was keeping Cas.
"Don't move!" Caroline snapped, pulling her phone from her pocket shakily. She punched in a number and held it to her ear.
"Dixon! What the hell was that?!"
Shock and disbelief dominated her expression as she listened to Micheal over the phone. From where Dean lay, legs still tied to the chair, hindering his mobility, all he could hear was frantic, high-pitched gabbling from the other end.
"What's he saying?!" Dean demanded. Caroline ignored him.
"Well what's the protocol for something like this?! What do you mean, 'no protocol'?! We have a protocol for everything!"
The line went dead and Caroline stared at her phone with open-mouthed shock.
"He hung up on me!" she exclaimed, indignant. She forcibly composed herself and focused her attention back on Dean to find him struggling to untie his feet. With a growl, Caroline fired a warning shot that made Dean jump.
"Hands on your head!" she barked. "One more wrong move and I'm gonna start putting holes in you, Winchester!"
"You just want me to sit here and wait for another... hell, I don't even know what that was!" Dean yelled, though he did as she ordered.
"It was a jet," Caroline said, eyes glazed. "A fighter jet just crashed right outside our east wall."
"What?!"
Before Caroline could get another word out, the door flew open and Micheal barreled into the room, surveying the scene with panic that was tempered a little by the disarray in the room.
"Why are his hands free?!" Micheal demanded.
"Because you're losing your edge!" Caroline snapped. She drew his knife, held it up for him to see, then tossed it to him. He caught it deftly, scowling as he flipped it between his fingers and shoved it angrily back into its sheath. Dean might have been impressed by the display if he wasn't busy trying to figure out what the hell was happening.
"What the hell's happening out there?!" Caroline demanded.
"Tommy's evacuating people," Micheal replied grimly. "It's happening again."
"What's happening again?"
"She's coming after us. Again."
"Who, Alice?! With military planes?!" Caroline demanded. "Micheal, you're not- you're not making sense! This has to be some freak accident, it has to-"
"It's not!" Micheal shouted. "The bitch is insane! She's out to kill us all, once and for all! We need to-"
Micheal's phone rang, slicing through the discord like a chainsaw through a mess of wood chips. Micheal scrambled to answer it with hands that shook. He put the call on speaker while Caroline took a step toward him, holding her breath in anticipation.
"You there, Smith?"
A woman's voice. It wasn't Alice. At least, not in the same body. If Dean had to hazard a guess, he'd have said she was jumping hosts.
"Who-"
"Here's the deal, Mr. Micheal Dixon-Smith," the woman said, removing all doubt that it was indeed Alice speaking. "That was a warning shot. You're screwing with the wrong ghost, buddy. You don't want a war with me, Smith. I can go anywhere I want, take anything I want. Let's just say the military base at Millington isn't exactly spirit-proof. So you're gonna let Dean go."
"We're not-"
"I'm not done. You're gonna let Dean go. You're gonna give him that colt too."
"This is the worst bluff I've ever heard in my life," Micheal sneered. "What are you gonna do, blow this place sky-high with Dean inside? I don't think so."
"Dean's dead whether I level your little fortress or not. Between going out in a blaze of glory and being slowly tortured to death, what do you think he'd choose? My money's on the blaze of glory."
On the floor, Dean shrugged just in time for Micheal to see him do it. Inwardly, he ramped up the fervence of his prayers. Castiel's uncharacteristic failure to appear was starting to make him nervous. Another terrible irony. Of course, after years of trying to ditch the feather-brain, Dean would finally lose him just as soon as he needed a little help.
"She's not wrong," he said, smirking at Micheal. "Blaze of glory is more my style."
Micheal shot Dean a burning glare and opened his mouth to snap at Alice, but Caroline snatched the phone from him and shushed him.
"Alice? You don't know me. My name is Caroline Smith. Let's talk this thing through."
"What's left to talk about? Was something unclear about my terms?"
"We can't accept either of your conditions, Alice. You should know that."
"Then this conversation is over."
"Hold on! Look, I get it. This showdown has been a long time coming. I'm sure you've got all kinds of fun ideas about how to wipe us off the map."
"You bet your ass I do."
"Good for you. Here's the thing though. There haven't been many Smiths living inside these walls since you killed Greta. We're spread out, unincorporated. You can destroy our home, but there's no way you'll ever be able to kill us all. And as long as even one of us is left alive, you'll be hunted."
"Big whup, I'm already hunted."
"You don't have to be."
"That so?"
"How would you like to end this war once and for all, cousin?"
"I swear, if you ask me to turn myself in-"
"No! Of course not."
"Carol! What the hell are you doing?!" Micheal hissed, trying to swipe the phone from her. Caroline brushed off his attempts and went on.
"We can do this like civilized people instead."
"I'm listening."
"Pistols at dawn. You, Micheal, and a pair of witnesses. One duel to the death, and we call it even."
"CAROLINE!" Micheal shouted. He finally managed to get on her nerves and she sucker-punched him out of the blue, sending him reeling toward the door. Dean was trying hard not to like Caroline, but he had to admit, she was making it awfully tough. Dean grinned at Micheal's pain, savage satisfaction filling him as the douchebag clutched his face and cursed.
"As I was saying, it's a little old-fashioned, but there's nothing like the classics for settling a blood feud," Caroline said grimly.
"Sounds like a setup."
"You and Micheal will be the only ones armed. It'll just be the four of us. Two guns, two bullets, one shot a piece. We'll bring Dean. He can be your witness. I'll witness for my family."
"Let me guess. Micheal's gonna have the colt."
"Of course."
Alice was quiet for a long minute while she thought it over. Dean knew what she was thinking. If it went sideways, she could ditch her host again and go back on the lamb. On the surface, there was little risk, but if Dean had learned anything about the Smiths, he'd learned that nothing was ever as it seemed with them. There was always something nasty lurking under the surface, waiting to rise and bite you in the ass.
Dean almost called out, almost warned Alice, almost told her not to do it, but he stopped himself. Bad as this duel could turn out for Alice, it was Dean's best shot at getting out of here. Cas either couldn't hear Dean or couldn't reach him. Whatever the case, the end result was the same. If Alice didn't agree to this duel, Dean's options were reduced to a slow death at Micheal's hands or a fiery one at Alice's. He bit his tongue, pursed his lips and waited with the Smiths for Alice's answer. The silence in the room was saturated with tension, expectations pulled back like rubber bands stretched to their limits. All they could do was wait for the inevitable, impending snap.
"Fine. You've got yourself a deal."
The whole room breathed a sigh of relief at Alice's words.
"But I'm warning you right now, Smith," Alice added, "You assholes break your word this time, you trick me, you try anything funny, and I will end your whole, rotten bloodline."
She hung up and Caroline tucked Dean's phone into her pocket with a heavy sigh.
"Well, you wanted revenge," she told Micheal, who still had his head up trying to stop his nose from bleeding. "Here's your shot."
"You don't have the authority to make an offer like that!" Micheal snarled, his nasal words falling flat of the aggressive mark he was going for. "Kaydie's not going to be happy about this!"
"Kaydie's not here!" Caroline snapped. "It's like you said, right?"
"I was talking about hunting Alice down like the monster she is!" Micheal protested. "Not bargaining with her like-"
"Shut up! Shut up, Dixon!" Caroline snarled. She got in his face, finally losing her temper with him. "This family has lost enough, damn it! It's time to end this bullshit, and this is how we do it! You wanted to kill her! You wanted to be the one to take the shot! So now you're the one taking the shot! What, is the playing field a little too even for you?! Would you rather stick her in a cage and shoot her like an animal?! That's not justice, Dixon! That doesn't honor our fallen family, that makes us a pack of criminals! It makes us just as bad as she is! Hell, it makes us worse, and you know it! So stop your whining, clean yourself up, and get that gun ready! This ends tomorrow!"
Drawn up to her full height, eyes alight with rage, words ringing with righteous wrath and undeniable truth, Caroline transformed before Dean's eyes from a demure young lady into a force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, Dean's impression that she wasn't cut out to lead the Smith family was torn to shreds. Underneath her quiet, polite presentation, Caroline hid a fair wisdom that overlaid a commanding streak that paled even Kaydie's by comparison. Micheal had nothing to say, no recourse, no argument that could hold a candle to her logic. Cowed, he just nodded and slunk out of the room, leaving Dean and Caroline alone.
"Boy, you spanked him soundly," Dean commented, still on the floor.
Caroline sighed and slumped a little, seemingly exhausted by the effort it took to conjure up the imposing presence she'd just filled the room with. She drew her gun and leveled it at Dean, her practiced stance lackluster, devoid of energy, if no less threatening.
"You can untie your feet now. Slowly. Then we're going down that hall."
She pointed behind him.
Dean freed himself without enthusiasm. He disentangled himself from the chair and struggled to his feet, grunting and grimacing the whole way up. Caroline nodded in the direction she wanted him to walk, following him with her gun and guard up while he limped along cooperatively. Dean thought about rushing her, but Caroline kept enough distance between them that he knew he would be dead before he took his second step.
"The door on the left."
Dean opened the door and walked through into a dark room.
"There's a light switch on the wall. Right of the door. Close it behind yourself."
Dean looked back at Caroline one last time before following her orders. Her expression was indecipherable, cold professionalism masking whatever emotions lurked behind her stoic facade. Dean closed the door, plunging himself into complete black. Outside, he heard the click of a lock. He searched for the light switch, heavy breaths loud as thunder but soft next to the pounding of his heart and the roar of blood in his ears. The few seconds it took for him to flood the room with light stretched on into hours, time dragging under the weight of Dean's anticipation and anxiety. What would he see when he turned on the light?
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, his heartbeat slowed and his breathing steadied. The windowless room was as empty as the one he'd just come from. Scars around the edges of the floor suggested that the room had once been carpeted, but now the pine subfloor was exposed. Wallpaper had been stripped, revealing layers of paint underneath, likely decades in the making. From place to place, Dean saw patches of sky blue, lavender, light green and white. Stubborn pieces of wallpaper still held on in places, white flowers on gold vines hinting at what the room might have looked like before it was stripped bare.
Dean let out a breath he'd been holding since he woke up tied into a chair, leaning against the wall and slowly sliding down to sit. He hated to count his eggs before they were laid, but it was looking like he was going to get out of this alive after all. Now that he had time enough to think of anything but survival, he reviewed the chaotic events of the last hour. With the benefit of hindsight, he worried that he'd made a mistake. His mind jumped back to his decision not to speak up when Alice accepted the duel and regret washed over him as he realized something for the first time.
Alice didn't want him dead, didn't want him hurt. He wasn't sure if she was bluffing or not when she threatened to blow him sky-high along with the Smiths, but there was one thing he did know; if Alice really didn't care, she would have done nothing. She wouldn't have bothered jacking a plane, wouldn't have called the Smiths back to offer them her ultimatum. If Alice really didn't give a crap what happened to Dean, she would have disappeared. She had nothing riding on Dean's safety.
"Son of a bitch," Dean said, tone flat as he realized Alice was actually going out of her way, taking a huge risk to save him. He was too tired, too beat, too stressed to deal with the emotional impact of the revelation that for whatever reason, after all this time, Alice still cared about him. In her own, especially neurotic way.
Dean packed it away for later. For now, all he knew was that he needed to repay the favor in kind. There was no way in hell the Smiths weren't angling to screw Alice over. All Dean knew was that, with Alice sticking her neck out for him, he couldn't let her family get away with tricking her. Whatever trap they had in store for her, he needed to do whatever he could to make sure they didn't succeed.