Chapter 10: Swamp Fox

Shepherdstown. Thursday, August 4, 2005.

When Dean suggested to Michael that they go outside, it was to give Peter and Neal some space. Peter's growls were already bubbling to the top. Dean didn't blame him. Neal sneaking into a vamp's mansion was a non-starter. Did he even know how to pick a lock?

If Sam were healthy, they would have had a go at it, but Sam was nowhere near ready. He'd improved some. As long as he stayed flat on his back, he no longer felt like roadkill. But whenever he tried to stand up, he was so dizzy he could barely make it to the can without tripping over his feet. Luckily his fever was down. Otherwise, Dean would have hauled his ass to emergency care.

Assuming the fang Clarence was right, Lutar was a pure-blood. It was a cinch he wasn't living in that castle alone. Clarence said the other fangs had moved to a nest in Maryland, but Lutar could be employing locals as bodyguards.

Dean gave Neal points for cockiness even if it was misplaced. He also scored high marks for stupidity. Yes, Neal knew how to hustle pool and he could counterfeit some slick IDs. Did he know how to make himself invisible too?

Dean succeeded in calming Michael down by having him explain what rowing on the Potomac was like. He didn't expect Peter would agree to the scheme, but the notion gave Michael something to focus on. Soothing stressed victims was normally Sam's job. Dean intended to be paid back at the first opportunity.

Michael recommended they make a practice run on the river, and Dean agreed. The Potomac provided a good escape route. Maybe not for today, but for later on when he had other hunters for backup. If the forces were overwhelming, they might all need to flee by boat. It never hurt to have a contingency measure ready.

When Michael left to arrange for a boat rental, he went back inside to see if the bear had pummeled some sense into Neal.

Evidently not.

Peter had moved his chair close to Neal so he could bellow in an undertone without scaring the hotel guests having breakfast, "Why do you think I'd possibly agree to you sneaking into a manor on your own?" he growled at his cub, giving a quick nod at Dean when he pulled up a chair next to them. He suspected Peter was counting on him to lend his support.

"Because it's the only way that has a chance of success," Neal countered, keeping his voice low. His eyes were boring into Peter's with an intensity Dean had rarely seen him exhibit. "If we go in as a group with guns blazing it could be a slaughter—not only of us but Angela as well. We have to find out what kind of shape she's in, and I'm the best one for the job. You know that."

"But—"

"No buts. Not this time. You know we can't get a search warrant. No court would agree. We can keep in contact through text messages. The longer we wait, the better chance he could . . ." Neal paused and turned to Dean. "I'm right aren't I?"

Great, call on him to be the moderator. "What makes you think you can avoid being detected?"

Neal broke into a half-smile, his first of the morning. For a guy that normally had a smile permanently slapped on his face, that was telling. "It's rumored that I used to be an expert cat burglar. Nothing ever proven, of course."

The light bulb lit up. Now it made sense. Sam had mentioned how skilled Neal was at eluding capture in Buttonwood. Peter didn't contradict him that nothing was proven. Was that why Peter was tolerant of Dean and Sam's records? They weren't the only rogues he was used to dealing with.

"You know I want to rescue Angela," Peter told him, "but we can't wind up in a situation where we need to save you as well."

Neal turned to Dean. "If Sam were in that house, what would you do?"

"Go in by myself," Dean admitted. "From my perspective, our odds are a helluva lot better than what we normally have." These guys had already been around the block with him. He didn't need to remind them that beheading was the only way to kill vampires, but no one had any experience with what pure-bloods were capable of. Or how to kill them. "I'm willing to wager that Lutar doesn't want to risk exposure. He's establishing himself as a music rock star. Kidnapping and murder are not the kind of publicity he's looking for."

Neal looked at him gratefully as Peter's growls subsided. He seemed to be confident of Neal's sneak ability and that was good enough for Dean. Peter also realized they had to do something. Now they could set to work on improving those odds. But before that happened, there was one lurking monster in the room demanding attention.

Dean grabbed that monster and shoved him in Neal's face. "What will you do if Lutar's already turned her?"

Neal winced. "You said that was unlikely."

"Yeah, and I still believe it, but you gotta be prepared."

"Dean's right," Peter agreed. "He made the case for why Lutar would wait to turn her, but lust has a nasty habit of overcoming rational thinking."

"Doesn't it take a while to work?" Neal asked.

"Yeah. The transformation isn't complete until she's drunk human blood." At that, Neal's face turned pea-soup green.

Peter took one look at him and asked, "If she's been turned, is there any way to bring her back?"

"None that I know of."

"What if she hasn't drunk any blood yet?" Neal asked, clearly trying to find a straw to cling to.

"In that case, she could seem normal. She may not even know she's a vampire."

"But she would still have to be . . .?" Neal's hand slashed across his throat when the words wouldn't come out.

"Yeah."

They were all speaking quietly, but Neal's voice was dropping with each sentence. There was no way he'd be capable of handling that contingency. Dean voiced the obvious. "You can do your cat burglar thing to find her, but text me before you approach her. I'll make an excuse to leave the room and go find you." If there were any heads to be cut off, he'd have to be the one.

Neal looked at him with dismay. "And leave Peter alone with a pure-blood? That's not happening."

"How about those darts we used in New Jersey?" Peter asked. "The ones filled with dead man's blood. Could Neal use one of those on her? That way, he could get her out of the house and we'd determine what was to be done later."

"Peter told me about the darts," Neal said, pouncing on the idea. "How long would she be paralyzed?"

"At least two hours. Angela's a fly-weight. She'd probably be out for three or more. Plenty of time for us to meet you and reassess."

"Any signs to watch out for?" Neal asked.

"Look for wounds. Vamps generally go for the neck or arms."

"What about if she and Lutar were intimate?" Peter asked.

"She might get an STD, but he couldn't turn her into a vampire that way." Dean hoped he was right. Who knew what pure-bloods were capable of? Neal was freaked out enough. There was no need to heap on additional concerns. Neal was right that he stood the best chance of sneaking her out of the house. Angela trusted him. "Personally, I'm willing to bet that Lutar hasn't turned her yet. He's a performer. He'd want to make a ceremony out of it, not when she's half asleep."

Peter eyed him warily. He probably thought Dean was being overly optimistic. And maybe he was. But there was a chance he was right. Be prepared for Armageddon, but don't complain if you wind up in Paradise instead. Neal was determined to make the attempt. He needed to know there was a chance she could be saved. And Dean had another trick up his sleeve that would help. He turned to Neal. "You'll need to mask your scent. Lutar's met you. He'll know if you're in the house."

"Do you have anything I can use? Please tell me it's not skunk cabbage."

They'd used skunk cabbage in the New Jersey swamp for precisely that purpose. "You can thank Chloe that you don't have to go around smelling like roadkill. She prepared an oil laced with essence of trillium and some other flowers. I call it Fang No. 5. You splash some of it on and vamps won't be able to smell you."

A little of the tautness left Neal's face. "Score one for Chloe!" Even Peter smiled. Chloe's research into herbs was paying off big time.

#

When Dean headed upstairs to check on Sam, Neal suggested to Peter they go out on the back porch. The ground floor was now bustling with inn guests, and he needed to clear his thoughts of the nightmarish scenarios playing in his head.

He expected Peter would slam him yet again for the notion that Angela would agree to go with him and he could steal her away without arousing Lutar's suspicions. But Peter wasn't saying anything. The silent treatment was even worse. In Neal's head, he heard all the arguments Peter would make.

He stood at the edge of the patio and absently watched the cardinals hunt for seeds underneath the feeders. The risk to Dean and Peter would be every bit as great as what Angela was facing. The best option would be for him to go in alone but Peter wouldn't stand for it.

"Don't worry about Dean and me," Peter said, breaking the silence. "Lutar's scheduled to perform in a concert. He's established himself in the community. He won't want to harm representatives of NPR. You're the weak link, not us. You're too close to the victim. Normally I wouldn't allow you to participate, but I recognize you have the best chance of success. Will you be able to keep your emotions under control?"

"This isn't the first time I've needed to," Neal reminded him. "We've already outlined the strategy. All we need now are the costumes."

Peter grinned even as he rolled his eyes. "Is that so, hotshot? Have you given a name to this con we're going to pull?"

"Yep, Swamp Fox."

"You're wearing a tricorn hat rather than a fedora, I take it."

"You are as well. I may be the Swamp Fox but you're General Washington. Wasn't he called the Sword of the Revolution? Besides, you need the practice. When we get back to New York, we'll initiate a triple con against Adler, the Mansfelds, and Ydrus. You'll need to bring out your inner con artist. Consider this a dress rehearsal."

Peter snorted "When I came down to Shepherdstown with you, that's exactly what I was thinking about you. Were you ready to go back into the field and handle the stress of the coming operation? This is not the kind of trial run I'd envisaged."

Neal breathed easier. Despite everything that had gone down the previous month, they were still on the same wavelength. That proved they'd be okay. "We'll both be fine. We'll rescue Angela, go back to New York, and start the clock on the U-boat con. It's what we do."

"Go from one crazy scheme to another?" Peter raised that annoying eyebrow which was the tell of a reality check coming up—"How will you explain your machete to Michael?"

"Michael will never know. The only reason to carry one is to kill vampires—not a subject I intend to discuss."

#

Peter went ahead and called Lutar while they were outside. He was able to secure an appointment for two o'clock. Neal had hoped they could meet earlier, but that was the only time Lutar offered. It may have been for the best. He'd never used a rowboat for a heist—of princesses or any other type of treasure, and the prep work needed was not insignificant. Michael insisted on Neal receiving basic training in the morning, and Peter and Dean went along as well. They took advantage of the practice run to scout out Lutar's mansion.

It took thirty minutes to row down the Potomac to reach Lutar's estate. His house was unique among the mansions lining the riverbank. The stone castle was built in the Norman style with a crenelated roof, three visible stories, and a probable basement. It was set on a steep hillside, perhaps a hundred yards away from the river. Terraces led off the house on two levels. There was a large round turret at one end. Neal wondered if that was where Angela was staying—a princess in a tower.

Rows of ornamental evergreens leading down to the river's edge would provide adequate cover. The estate had a small boat dock and shed, but there were no signs of boating activity. Even Peter had to admit the layout looked feasible for what Neal the Swamp Fox had in mind.

When they returned from the morning rowing session, Neal went to the university and prepared an ID for Peter as well as documentation about the fictitious NPR documentary series. Afterward, he conducted a practice interview with Dean and Peter where he played the part of Lutar. He delegated Michael to critique them after each run-through. Neither Peter nor Dean was a natural at the art of blithering endlessly on a random topic. Peter could handle finance frauds where he was already knowledgeable, but a subject where he knew nothing? That required help.

The rock music angle was their saving grace. Michael provided tips based on comments Angela had made on using the dulcimer in rock music. By the time they were ready to leave, Neal was satisfied they could keep Lutar engaged for over an hour.

Sam continued to be too weak to provide any assistance. The fever was gone but he couldn't seem to stay awake.

Midafternoon, Neal and Michael left the boat ramp on Princess Street for the trip up the Potomac. Michael had also rented fishing gear. They planned for Michael to stake out a position near the ramp at the estate and pretend to fish while Neal sneaked into the castle. The terrain was sufficiently wooded that Michael should be able to stay close and still be out of the line of sight from the house. Neal had brought along a soft-sided art portfolio case. The shoulder strap would keep it from impeding his movements. If he was stopped on the grounds, he'd explain that he was an artist and had ventured onto the estate to capture the beauty of the castle on paper. Only Peter and Dean knew about the machete concealed inside.

As they rowed up the river, there were few other pleasure boats to be seen. Once they'd left Shepherdstown, the banks of the river became heavily wooded. They passed a couple of birders in a kayak who waved at them.

"You're sure you won't need help in the house?" Michael asked for the ten-thousandth time. "What if Angela's unconscious? Will you be able to carry her?"

"Relax. I can manage her." Angela's voice might be powerful but she couldn't weigh much over a hundred pounds.

"What if she doesn't want to come with you?" Michael demanded.

She'll agree once she hears Lutar's a vampire. "I'll tell her she's being drugged. Angela is as opposed to drugs as I am. I'll persuade her I have proof. You just need to keep yourself calm. When you get my text, come to the boat ramp."

Michael relaxed into gloomy silence. To lighten the mood, Neal began singing "Michael Row the Boat Ashore."

"I knew that was coming!" Michael said, snorting with laughter.

"Then you should know the words. Sing it with me!" Neal ordered. They sang while they rowed, making up their own words about the celebration they'd have once she was safe. Michael liked to bake cakes, so Neal threw in lyrics for the Bunnicula cake he'd make—a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Silly stuff, but it helped Michael relax. Neal wished he'd brought along recording equipment. Once Angela was rescued, this was one song she needed to hear.

When they arrived at Lutar's estate, they maneuvered the boat close to the bank at the edge of the woods so Neal could jump out without being spotted.

"Good luck," Michael said, a mute entreaty in his eyes.

"I'll bring her back to you," Neal promised, refusing to consider any other outcome.

Notes: There is a way to cure newly turned vampires who haven't consumed human blood, but this is only discovered in the sixth season of Supernatural