Twisted Love
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, and Jack Foel. I should also mention that Newbridge Falls is, as far as I know, is a fictional town created by moi. If, however, it isn't, then anything that happens in this story is completely fictional with no relation whatsoever to the real thing. I think I swallowed a lawyer or something…
Author's Note: There I was, minding my own business, foolishly thinking I could take a break from writing, lol. Then I happened upon three very encouraging reviews and BANG, I got sucked right back into it. Oh well, I suppose there'll be plenty of time to take breaks when I turn eighty, lol. Until then, I'll just keep on writing.
Review Answers:
Spuffyshipper – Thanks, soon enough?
Fractured Dreams – Exciting? Really? Yay, that's a good sign. Don't feel bad, I don't have much clue where it's heading either. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
talon81 – Thanks for the good advice, I'll do that. For the record, it only bothered me for the first minute, and then I decided it was their problem if they didn't want to see Sam gay.
puplover77 – Ah, my diabolical plan succeeded, mwahaha (can't do the evil laugh). Glad you found that funny; that was the whole point of it. And it just seemed like the way Dean would respond when he found out he didn't know something like that. Glad you liked.
Rose of No Man's Land – Yay, new review, though by no means unfamiliar, since I've read almost everything you've written Supernatural-wise. First long review of the story, always a thrill to reply to. Oh good, Sam has competition. Only kidding. You wouldn't stand a chance, lol, no offence. Yes, Sam is very much cute, lol, that's why Johnny thinks so. They're really that good? Thanks for saying so, I wouldn't have thought so (but I'm overly critical of myself, so, yeah). Yeah, I have this tendency to give them assumed names a lot. Glad you liked it. All the rest of the stuff you said, I don't know how to reply to except by saying a big "Thanks".
Chapter 3: Patterns
Dean was driving this time while Sam read off the list of victims and addresses, letting Dean choose where to go first, since he knew this area better then Sam.
They'd been to three houses so far. And so far, all the victims had turned out to be very late teens or early twenties. Each of the victims also seemed to have some type of relationship, whether it be friend, workmate, brother, etc, with at least one of the other victims, which led Dean and Sam to believe that the succubus (they were almost positive it was a succubus now) wasn't very picky; it was choosing it's next victims by meeting them through its current ones.
Since they'd figured out its pattern, Dean was now driving Sam to the library where he hoped to find, not only when the killings actually started, but also see if there was anything new on succubae that they didn't already know.
The younger Winchester turned from his window suddenly as they drove, concern on his face.
"Dean, the most recent victim, he was a friend of Johnny's, wasn't he?" He asked. Dean gave an affirmative nod. "Well, doesn't that mean Johnny could be in danger?" Dean frowned; he hadn't thought of that. Then a thoughtful look crossed his face as he glanced at Sam. The younger Winchester looked quizzical for a second, and Dean arched an eyebrow. Sam's eyes widened.
"No, no, no, no." He said. "I am not… I can't… I barely know the guy, Dean."
"Wasn't it you who said earlier, something about getting back in the saddle?" Dean asked. "I'll call him, and tell him I told you what he said. Which, by the way, I did. Then you'll take him out for… dinner, not a beer, he doesn't like 'em, crazy kid." Sam frowned. "Never mind, anyway, it's the best way to get some info. I mean, Johnny was the one who told me the stuff we already know, minus the names and addresses. Use whatever type of charm you have at your disposal to find out what else he knows." Sam scoffed, and turned a mildly amused look on his brother.
"You know, Dean, not everyone needs to use sex as a bargaining tool." Sam said, opening the car door as Dean came to a stop outside the public library. "Some of us can get info from a guy by using this new tool called 'Asking a question'." He walked around and leaned in through the driver's window. "Maybe you should try it sometime, I hear it works well." He said with a wry grin. Dean rolled his eyes, and pushed Sam away from the window. The younger Winchester chuckled as he regained his footing, and turned to head up the front steps of the library.
"So, you'll go out with him?" Dean called from the car. Sam through his hands up in exasperation, and turned, walking up the steps backwards, and shrugged, letting his arms fall to his sides, a smile of resignation on his face.
"Yeah, okay, I'll go out with him, but don't expect any sparks to fly." He said, turning back in the direction of the library and almost tripping on one of the steps. "Your fault." He called over his shoulder, the tone of his voice telling Dean he was joking. The older Winchester chuckled as he turned away from his brother and pulled out away from the sidewalk back out onto the road. A quick trip back to the motel to see if Johnny had arrived for his shift yet. If not, well, it had been a while since he'd seen Mr. and Mrs. Fields, he was sure they'd be happy to see him. Considering one had spent most of the time in a drunken stupor in the bedroom and the other had spent it smoking on the couch the last time Dean had been in town, he suddenly wondered if either of them would actually remember him.
After consulting the woman at the front desk, Dean learned that Johnny's shift (she didn't actually say what he worked as there, only that he worked there) didn't start until about three o'clock, giving him a couple hours until Johnny got there, so he decided to visit him instead of waiting.
As he was driving to Johnny's home, however, he caught sight of someone who happened to perk his interest more then the young blonde man, and all thoughts of Johnny vanished from his head as he parked the car by the sidewalk and got out, heading to the light blue mustang parked not far from where Dean had.
"Long time no see." He said as he approached. The young woman he was coming up behind froze.
"Don't take another step." She said, and it was Dean's turn to freeze on the spot, staring at the back of the woman who stood just as tall as he did. "Let's see, it's been a long time since I've heard that voice. Hmmm… Dirty blonde hair, six feet tall, cocky grin, and a bad-ass attitude."
"You remember? I'm touched." Dean said, the aforementioned cocky grin gracing his lips. The redhead spun around as she finished describing him.
"Wow, it has been a long time." She said, taking in his appearance. "You're old." She said with a cocky grin of her own, and Dean's mouth fell open; he was not old. "Close your mouth, you're catching flies." She said, and Dean snapped his mouth shut.
"You… have not changed." Dean said. She reached forward, took hold of the front of his jacket and pulled him into a heated kiss, which lasted (unfortunately, in Dean's opinion) only a few minutes. When she was done, she spun him around and slammed him against her car. Dean had always been amazed by the young woman's strength; she must've spent a lot of time working out or something.
"You haven't either." She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "You're still one hell of a kisser." She smiled as she stared at him. Then the moment passed, and she acted like their little exchange had never happened. "May I ask what you're doing here?" She asked, returning the task she'd been doing before he'd approached, which turned out to be painting the scene before them; the river Sam and Dean had driven alongside as they came into town, along with the park, the playground, and anything else of what they saw that would fit on the canvass.
"If I can ask when you took up the brush." Dean answered. Kit looked over her shoulder and cracked a half-smile at him.
"You first." She said.
"Okay, my brother and I are in town on a job." Dean said. "To do with those guys that have been killed over the past few weeks." He added. Kit didn't say anything. "So, have you heard anything?"
"That wasn't your question, which answer do you want first?" Kit asked bluntly, paying more attention to her painting then to Dean.
"Second one first, have you heard anything?" Dean asked. Kit set down the paintbrush again and turned to face Dean.
"Nothing I'm guessing you don't already know." She said. "The cops are being pretty tight lipped about this; won't tell you anything unless you're a member of the victim's family."
"Okay, when did you start painting?" Dean asked, nodding toward the half-finished canvass. Kit shrugged, turning back to it.
"Not long after you left." She said.
"Don't tell me you took me advice to heart?" Dean asked. Kit shrugged again, and Dean frowned. This was not the same person he'd seen two years ago. She was calm, collected, controlled. Where was all the heat? Where was all the sexual desire? And what the hell did Johnny mean by 'Don't get on her bad side'? In two years, Kit had matured into an easy-going young woman.
Then he remembered the kiss they had shared just minutes earlier, and everything fell into place. She was dong exactly what she'd always done; kissing and forgetting. She'd just grown to be a lot more mature about it. When Dean had first met her, and then 'met' her again after their one night stand, she'd started checking him out almost immediately, after both introductions. Now she seemed more interested in her painting.
"You're heading to Mum and Dad's, right?" She asked.
"Er… yeah." Dean said.
"Okay, well, my old room is on the right side at the end of the hall, could you do me a favour and get some of the packages from it and bring them to me?" Dean frowned, and Kit looked over her shoulder at him. "In case my blabbermouth of a younger brother didn't tell you already, I'm not exactly welcome at home anymore."
"He said you moved out, he didn't say you weren't welcome." Dean said. Kit nodded.
"Good, he's learned to keep his mouth shut." She said. "So, about the packages…"
"Oh, yeah, sure." Dean said. "Will you still be here?" He asked.
"Unless the river fades away." Kit said, and with that, she returned to her painting. Dean rolled his eyes. She may have changed maturity-wise, but her attention span hadn't changed much for the better.
"Well, okay, see you later." Dean said. Kit nodded absently, not really paying attention to him anymore. Dean shook his head and turned and waked away, getting back in the impala and driving away from the young woman in the direction of her former home.
It hadn't changed much since he last saw it. In fact, it hadn't changed at all, as far as he could tell. It looked just as much a dump now as it had two years before. And he knew a lot about dumps, having stayed in quite a few himself. With a sigh of exasperation, he got out of the car, locked the doors, and then walked up to the front door. He pressed the doorbell, but all it gave him was a sick spluttering. It had gotten a little better since his last visit; back then, it hadn't made any sound at all.
A stocky man in his late thirties opened the door and glared at Dean. "What?" He demanded.
"Ah, so you don't remember me." Dean said. The older man narrowed his eyes, trying to remember where he'd seen that no-good cocky grin and that gelled up hair before. His eyes widened in recognition all of a sudden, and Dean started to grin. That quickly turned to a concerned frown when he realized that Damon Fields looked even less then he had when he first opened the door.
"Now I recognize you," He said, his tone stating that he was none-to-pleased to see Dean again. "You're that good-for-nothing hooligan what tried to bed my little girl." Dean looked absolutely dumbstruck.
Me? Tried to bed your 'little girl'. He thought. Dude, do you even know your daughter? In a moment of rarely-seen wisdom, Dean decided saying something like that was not the best way to try and get on the guy's good side.
"Uh… Hi, I'm Dean… Riley." Dean said, offering his hand. The older man glared at it like it was something dirty. Or, more correctly, something dirtier then his house already was. His frown deepening, Dean let his hand fall to his side. "Okay, you know what, I didn't come here for small talk or to be glared at by an ex-drunk who doesn't even take the time to get to know his own kids," So much for trying to get on his good side, "I came here looking for Johnny. Oh, and Kit asked me to pick up some packages from her old room." Damon continued to glare at Dean, but at that moment, a stout woman (Where the hell did Johnny and Kit inherit their height from? Dean wondered) walked up to join her husband at the front door.
"I remember you." Abigail Fields stated, regarding Dean the same way Damon had, or was. "You're that sleazy-assed son of a bitch who started my daughter's downward spiral." Dean slouched.
"Yes, we've established that I'm no good and I'm the cause of all your daughter's problems, now will you please tell me where Johnny is?" He snapped. Abigail looked absolutely appalled by the way he spoke to her. "And let me in so I can get whatever it was Kit wanted from her bedroom." He added.
"No, I don't think we will." The older man snapped. "Now, I'm going to give you one minute to get off my property before I-" At that moment, Damon was interrupted by a voice behind him.
"Mum, Dad, this is a friend of mine," Johnny said. "Please let him in." And without waiting for his parents to answer, Johnny reached around them, grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt, and pulled him into the house, past the senior Fields', and down the hall in just a few short seconds. He stopped pulling when they got to the end of the hall. Dean glanced of his shoulder and saw that Abigail and Damon were standing there, more then a little aghast, as they stared at their son.
"You really have a way with people." Johnny said, rolling his eyes and leading Dean into the room they were at. Dean took one last look at Abigail and Damon (both of whom looked like they were going to burst a blood vessel), before following Johnny into the room.
His first words as he entered the room were "Holy shit." As he saw that every square inch of the wall was taken up by pieces of canvass, each and every one with some type of painting. Some were portraits, some were scenes, some were just messes of colours put together. Dean turned in a circled to look at all the paintings, speechless, absolutely stunned by the skill the young woman possessed.
"Kit's room." Johnny said, noticing Dean's sudden awe. Dean shook himself; it wasn't often that he lost himself like that. But all these paintings, the portraits in particular… wait a minute.
"How did she do that?" He said, pointing to one portrait in particular. "She said she didn't start painting until after I left." He was pointing to a portrait of himself, grinning back at him with that same cocky grin everyone liked to comment on.
"Photographic memory." Johnny said. Dean glanced at Johnny, disbelief on his face. Johnny nodded, and Dean looked back at the portrait of himself.
"That girl is just full of unused talents." Dean muttered. "I take it these are the packages she wanted?" He said, noticing some package wrapped up in plain brown paper. Johnny nodded, and the two men walked over and picked up the packages, and took them out to the car (thankfully, Abigail and Damon had vacated the door by now, so Dean and Johnny didn't meet any resistance).
"You should probably get going before Mum and Dad call the lynch mob." Johnny said with a grin. Dean chuckled and nodded.
"Yeah, that's probably not a bad idea." He said. "He closed the back door of the car and walked around to the drivers side and was about to climb in when he remembered the other reason he'd come. He looked up and saw Johnny staring hopefully at him, like the younger man already knew what Dean was about to say. "Sam's going to be waiting for you at that nice little restaurant down the road from the motel tonight." He said, and was pleased to see the Johnny's lips break into a smile. "Talk to ya later." Dean said, and climbed into his car. He took one last look at Johnny, and then drove away, heading in the direction of the library.
A/N: And that's the end of that chapter. I was exceptionally tired both when I started this chapter and when I finished it. Even so, I'm hoping it turned out okay. Hope y'all enjoyed it, reviews have this strange way of making the updates faster. Hint hint, nudge nudge.
