Chapter 8:
A/N: This has been fun. It's been a while since I've felt really inspired to write fanfiction, but Supernatural has pulled me back in. Hope you've enjoyed reading thus far as much as I've enjoyed writing.
Disclaimer: Own them…in my dreams.
(--)
Sam called Dean's phone again as they were driving back down the mountain for the second time in as many days. Dean answered, leaving Parker to stare morosely out the window, her chin cupped in her hand. She felt the hot sting of tears at her eyes. Angie. The Jeep hit a deep rut, and Parker's stomach lurched dangerously. Dean was right. They needed answers to know how to fight the Akvan, but a deep seeded doubt in her gut told her she really didn't want to know.
"Hey," Sam sounded breathless. "You guys all right? I've been trying your cell for over an hour now."
"Yeah Sammy, we're fine. We just had another little run in with our friend the Akvan." His voice was hard, and Parker just wanted the seat to swallow her. She could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough. The line went quiet for a long moment. Dean switched the phone from his right hand to his left, and down shifted the Jeep into third gear. "Sam?"
"Dean, I didn't get a chance to tell you its name before the signal cut out. How did you know?"
Parker could feel Dean's eyes rake over her. She grimaced and closed her eyes. Yep, definitely wished the seat would swallow her, or that she was invisible. Yeah, invisible would work too. "I'll explain when we get to the hospital… yeah, we're coming to get you. See you in a couple hours."
They traded the Jeep for the Impala at the base of the logging road. The last time they'd driven down, Dean hadn't spared a thought to the fact that there was probably a police report out on the stolen vehicle. Frankly, he hadn't cared. Getting Sam medical attention had seemed far more important to him in the moment, but now, he could afford to be a little more cautious.
As soon as they had traded vehicles, Dean had started rooting through his massive cassette selection. He slid in a tape and cranked the stereo, and booming guitar riffs filled the car, precluding any conversation. The drive to Walden seemed to stretch on forever.
Some hours later, Sam emerged out the front doors of the Walden Emergent Care Center under his own power. Dean walked out beside him, having delivered his brother fresh clothes and a loose button down plaid shirt to put on over his bandages and stitched shoulders. Sam walked stiffly, and a dark bruise had formed beneath the butterfly bandage on his head. According to Sam, Doctor Paulson had been less than thrilled with the idea of Sam checking himself out so soon after being admitted. But Sam was an adult, and after filing the proper forms and release waivers they'd had no choice but to release him.
Parker slid wordlessly into the back seat and Sam clambered into the front. Dean shut the door and trotted around to the driver's side. Sam nodded a hello to Parker, who barely acknowledged the gesture. "All right Sammy, what do we know?"
"Not much," Sam said, flipping open the laptop. "The Akvan is an Iranian demon, from the Zoroastrian religion. When the demon is summoned it possesses the nearest able bodied man and basically mutates. It's said to live in caves, or up in the mountains. All reports I could find said it settled above a village and would take young women that wandered too close to its cave. Anyone who tried to rescue them was killed. According to one website the Akvan wanted girls to "marry" it…" Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm assuming that's a rather loose translation. Unfortunately, nothing I found tells of how to summon it, or how to kill it."
He paused, waiting for some response, but he didn't get one. Sam looked between Dean and Parker. Dean stared purposefully out the front window, not once glancing back. Parker gazed blankly out the window. They weren't bickering. "All right," Sam said, "someone feel like telling me exactly what's going on?"
(--)
"Yeah, that's it, the blue house on the left," Parker said, hunched down in the back seat fifteen minutes later. They'd already cruised down the street Parker's mother lived on once, a precaution Parker's fugitive status made necessary. Not that Mrs. Quinn exactly lived in a suburban jungle that would make a waiting undercover officer hard to spot. Each house had several acres between it and its nearest neighbor, and most often dense forest surrounded each parcel of land.
Sam thought the fact there was no police presence was telling. "You and your mom not all that close?"
Dean drew the Impala to the side of the road, letting it idle for a moment before cutting the engine. "No," Parker responded dully. "We had kind of a falling out when I decided to become a guide. She always blamed climbing for my dad's death."
Sam climbed out and Parker followed. They trooped up the stone walkway in a tight pack, Sam and Dean flanking Parker on either side. At the front door she paused, her hand poised over the doorbell. Biting back another wave of apprehension, she pushed it.
It didn't take long for Mrs. Quinn to come to the door. She looked a lot like a much shorter version of Parker, though her eyes were a deep brown and her complexion was a few shades darker. The petite, dark haired woman's expression morphed dramatically from bored and relaxed to wide eyed and stunned. "Parker?" she whispered disbelievingly. "Is that you?"
"Yeah ma, it's me, beneath this layer of crap anyway." The tiny woman remained rooted to her place in the doorway, her lips slightly parted. "You plannin' on inviting us in, or you gonna slam the door in my face?"
Mrs. Quinn stepped aside, allowing just enough room for Parker, Sam and Dean to enter her house. She eyed the brothers warily as they stepped across the threshold. They heard the door shut behind them, and the quick, soft padding of feet on hardwood. Completely ignoring Sam and Dean, Mrs. Quinn marched up to stand toe to toe with her daughter. Her wide eyed wonderment had been replaced by a deep, ugly frown. She placed her hands on her hips and began to yell in a rapid fire language neither brother recognized.
"Ma," Parker tried to interject. Mrs. Quinn ignored her, rattling on and on, hands flying wildly. "Ma," she tried again. It didn't work. The woman's tirade got louder, and if possible, came faster. Parker pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand. "Ma, speak English. Don't be rude."
A loud, resounding smack could be heard when Mrs. Quinn hit her daughter's face with an open palmed slap. Parker's head snapped around. Sam's eyes went wide and he heard Dean grunt beside him. Parker lifted a hand to her face, craned her neck and flexed her jaw slowly from side to side. Her reaction was far too measured for Sam to think it an isolated occurrence. "Don't talk back to me," Mrs. Quinn snapped in heavily accented English. "I'm your mother."
"Are you done now?" Parker asked blandly.
The small act of defiance was enough to make Mrs. Quinn's face go beet red. "How could you let something happen to your sister? What were you thinking? I told you, I told you a hundred times what you do is dangerous. Look what happened to your father!" Sam watched Parker stiffen. Mrs. Quinn followed it up with a string of half-coherent English, "Arrested! Murder! Escape!" She made a disgusted noise deep in her throat and threw her hands in the air. Dean wasn't sure if the woman was going to break out in tears or slap Parker again. In any event, the situation was distinctly uncomfortable.
It was no less so when Mrs. Quinn finally acknowledged that the brothers were in the room as well. She thrust a bony finger toward Sam's chest. "And who are they?" Dean gulped. Ghosts he could handle. Demonic possessions, well, there was usually an exorcism ritual. A loud mouthed spitfire of a 5'2" pissed off Iranian woman he wasn't so sure.
"Uh…" Sam and Dean said together.
"They're friends mom. They're gonna help find Angie. That's Sam, and that's Dean."
"The police have already been looking for your sister. They not find her, so what makes you think you can?"
"The faith in me you have is astounding," Parker responded dryly.
Sam finally found his voice and came to Parker's proverbial rescue. "Because we believe the police are looking in the wrong place." Mrs. Quinn's lips thinned and she eyed Sam doubtfully.
"Mrs. Quinn, it's kinda a long story, so why don't we go sit down?" Dean suggested. "In fact, you may be able to help us out, but we're going to need to ask you a few questions."
"All right," Mrs. Quinn answered after a long pause. "We talk. But first I make coffee and you all clean up." Dark eyes flicked to her daughter. "Especially you. You know, you could be so pretty, but you no try, ever."
"Oh my God," Parker muttered quietly, exasperated. She spun on her heel and headed for the nearest bathroom and escape, leaving the brothers standing awkwardly in the foyer. It was no man's land.
Ten minutes later and a mug of steaming, black coffee in their hands they all sat down in the Quinn's well decorated, mostly beige living room. Dean almost felt bad sitting on the couch. He was probably going to leave a stain. "So how you think I help?" Mrs. Quinn questioned the brothers. "I not there. I not the one who make mistake."
Dean ignored the barb. He was aiming for the direct approach. He didn't feel much like becoming embroiled in what was sure to turn into a lengthy argument between family members. "What do you know about a demon named Akvan?"
The silence was penetrated by the heavy thunk of Mrs. Quinn's mug on the coffee table. She withdrew her hands into her lap and started rubbing thumb and forefinger over her palm nervously. "Akvan is demon from my home, from Iran. He kidnap foolish girls. Prideful girls. He wish to… to... love them, but if they no want him, he kills them. Every full moon, he let girls go, but if they run, he kills." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, knowing what the other was thinking. The full moon was the day after tomorrow. They'd just been given a deadline.
"Mrs. Quinn," Dean began seriously, leaning forward to set his forearms on his knees. "Do you know what it takes to kill Akvan?"
Brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You can no kill Akvan." Perfect, just what they didn't want to hear.
"There has to be a way," Sam pressed.
Mrs. Quinn's tongue darted out over her lips. "Why do you ask me about old story?"
Parker sighed, reaching over to grab her mother's wrist. "Mom, it's not a story. It's real. It attacked us in the caves. Akvan has Angie." She watched her mother's face, waiting for the information to sink in. Mrs. Quinn's face drained of all color, and she started to shake.
She shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes, rocking slowly back and forth on the couch. "It not possible."
"Ma I know it's hard to believe but…"
"Not again." Mrs. Quinn's words hit Parker like a blow to the gut. Her hand slipped from Mrs. Quinn's wrist.
"What do you mean, not again?" Dean asked. His heart quickened. They were finally getting near some answers. If she had seen the demon before, perhaps she knew how to stop it. Obviously something had, or reports of missing women and search parties would have found their way into their father's journal, he was sure.
Tears flowed freely down Mrs. Quinn's face. "I hoped you would never know," she told her daughter quietly. Parker blinked. "Eight years ago…" she began. Blood rushed into Parker's ears and the room started to list in front of her eyes. It was hard to breathe. "Your father was having an affair." Mrs. Quinn reached out for her daughter's hands, but Parker pulled back.
"I'm not hearing this," Parker murmured. Dean and Sam exchanged a look. They knew where the story was headed.
Mrs. Quinn buried her face in her hands. "I was angry! I didn't think, didn't know what would happen to him. I never thought he love her enough to go after her…." The admission seemed to break her and her shoulders heaved as she broke down in wailing sobs.
Parker stood, backing out of the room, a blank expression on her face. Dean followed. She made it through the sliding glass door on the far side of the living room and out onto the back porch before her stomach retaliated, and she dumped its meager contents over the railing. Her mind was reeling.
"Hey," Dean said softly, running a hand through his hair as he searched for something to say. Why hadn't he made Sam come out here? He was better at this kind of thing. She had her back to him, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping her on her feet. "Look, I know how hard this is," he began.
Parker whirled on him. "You know?" she seethed. "What do you know about it? That thing didn't kill your father! That thing out there didn't destroy your life! So what the hell do you know about it?" she screamed at him.
Dean pursed his lips and put his hands up. "Forget it," he snapped. He turned and stalked inside, brushing past Sam who had heard the entire exchange. The younger Winchester brother winced when the Quinn's front door slammed shut. Parker had just put her foot in her mouth in a big way, even if she didn't know it. He walked cautiously out onto the patio, where Parker had taken a heavy seat on the stairs.
Sam gave a little sigh and moved to sit beside her. She had her hands clasped between her knees, her elbows resting on her thighs. She sniffed once, swiping at her eyes with the back of one hand. "Sam, you ever have a day when your life, and everything you thought you knew about it, just fell apart on you?"
Sam recalled that day, months earlier, when Dean had dropped him off outside his apartment. A small, ironic smile played across his lips. "Yeah, I have. Pretty sure Dean's had a couple." He waited for a moment, then continued. "Our mother was killed by a demon when I was six months old." Parker looked up at him.
She closed her eyes as if pained and dropped her head between her legs. "I'm a jerk," she said, her response muffled.
"You didn't know," he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"Doesn't make me any less of a jerk." She lifted her head. "Stuck my foot down my throat with that one huh?"
"Eh," he shrugged, and then immediately regretted the small action. His pain killers were wearing off. "A bit, yeah."
Parker sighed. "Give me another minute to swallow my pride and I'll go apologize to Dean."
"Good luck with that. Don't expect much of a reaction."
"I don't." They lapsed into silence.
"You need to talk to her too," Sam said finally.
"I can't."
"She made a mistake."
Parker grunted. "Sam, that's like saying Hurricane Katrina dropped a little rain." Sam nodded; she had a point. "I can't talk to her, not yet. I'm gonna go for a walk. Please, just find out how to kill this Akvan so we can get Angie back? Please?"
Sam nodded again. "Yeah, sure." She smiled at him tightly, rose. And headed for the forest behind the house. It was nearing twilight, and the sky was swathed in orange and pink. The forest was dark, but Parker didn't care. She'd grown up here after all. Sam watched her till he could no longer see her and then went back inside.
Dean was already back, sitting on the coffee table across from Mrs. Quinn. He looked up at Sam briefly as he entered. The sting Sam had seen in his brother's face at Parker's accusation was already gone. Sam shook his head. Dean's ability to shelve his emotions would never cease to amaze him. Sam went to stand beside the couch. From what he could tell Dean hadn't made much progress; Mrs. Quinn was still hysterical.
Parker wandered slowly through the trees on the narrow deer path that led between the Quinn land, and the neighbors mountain pasture. She ducked underneath a low hanging branch. Then, on her left, she heard something moving in the brush. She stopped, an irrational surge of fear coursing through her. It was probably nothing, a rabbit, or possibly a coyote. Still, she peered into the wood off the trail, curious.
Something crashed through the underbrush on her other side, and she whirled. All she saw was a pair of gleaming red eyes, and then she saw nothing at all. Back at the house Dean, Sam and Mrs. Quinn all leapt to their feet when they heard a scream.
(--)
Chapter 8
Okay, so it's looking like one more chapter, maybe two if my mind starts working overtime. Please review, helps keep the plot bunnies bouncing. Thanks!