Sam woke up feeling like a million bucks. He felt like he could lift a car or run a marathon. Even so, he grimaced at the memory of what he'd done the night before. The hot tang of Ruby's blood stayed on his breath like a stain, reminding him of his mistake.
"Morning, Sunshine," she greeted him. Her smile was brilliant and Sam felt mocked by it. She'd stitched the gash on her wrist, hoping to speed it's healing along. "So. Tell me how you feel."
"Good," Sam admitted. "Better than I have in a while."
Ruby nodded, pleased with his answer.
"Good. We have a long way to go today," she informed him. "Our next target is going to be a challenge. We're going to need to hunt them down."
"Right."
Ruby frowned as she noticed the change in his demeanor.
"Are you sure everything's ok?" she pressed.
"Yeah. I just..."
Sam didn't know what to tell her. In truth, he felt dirty. Last night he had started down a road he had explicitly promised Dean that he wouldn't tread. He wanted to save his brother, but he wasn't sure how far he could go to that end. Deep down, he felt used. He felt manipulated. He felt a little stupid, but the deed was done. There was no going back now. He just hoped that he wasn't getting in over his head.
There was no way he could tell Ruby any of that. Because no matter how much they went through together, how deep he allowed her to drag him into the murky world of demonic influence, he still couldn't bring himself to trust her. He wanted to, badly. Ruby had been there for him at a time when no one else had. But that didn't change what she was, or who she was. It didn't change what she'd done or what he knew about her.
Sam didn't want to admit it to himself, but Ruby meant more to him than he had anticipated she could at the beginning of their... friendship. Relationship was too loose a word, no longer describing the intensity of the bond they had forged over the months since Dean's death.
Sam kept all that to himself.
"I'm ready to get going," he told her with a forced smile.
Dean and Vera watched the doctor's house all evening and late into the night. Dean got bored after the first few hours and managed to talk his hunting partner into a game of cards.
"This is pretty unprofessional," Vera told him as he dealt the first hand.
"Good thing we're not actually paid professionals," Dean shrugged. "Come on, put 'em up."
"I hope you're good."
"Oh, I'm great."
Dean waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she rolled her eyes at him.
"So which vice would you say you have the bigger problem with, gambling or womanizing?" she asked him derisively.
"Well for gambling to be a problem, you need to lose," Dean said. "For womanizing to be a problem, I think you need to be married, so... I'm problem free."
"Right. Tell me Winchester," Vera demanded, eyes narrowing at him in a way that bordered on dangerous, "What exactly was Alice Smith to you anyway?"
"I feel like we've been down this road before," Dean frowned, focusing hard on his cards. "Anyway, I thought your good friend Sam told you all about us."
"What does a little brother know about anything?" Vera scoffed. "I'd like to hear it from you."
"Alice was..."
Dean paused as he struggled to find the right words.
"It was complicated," he finally settled on. He split his gaze between the doctor's house and the game as the night crept on around them and silence engulfed the enclave.
"You weren't that serious about her, were you?" Vera asked. Her tone sounded funny, bordering on scathing despite the fact that, as far as Dean could tell, she had no stake in his relationship with Alice. He considered telling her it was none of her business, but was stopped short by the unexpected urge to defend himself.
"I was more serious about Alice than any woman ever," Dean admitted. "Hell, it was the longest running relationship I'd ever been in... she was the only person I could be completely honest with."
He grew somber in his reflection.
"I could be myself around her. No fake names or lies about where I was from or where I was going."
Dean fell silent, concentrating hard on his hand in the awkward empty space that followed his words.
"So you loved her then," Vera finally said. Her tone was still funny, this time in a way Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. Her expression betrayed nothing, poker face perfected, perhaps from years of practice.
"You know, I don't really get why you're so interested in my relationship with Alice," Dean snapped.
"Just making conversation," Vera scowled, fanning her cards out so they hid the lower portion of her face. Dean locked eyes with her and found himself unable to look away. They were bright blue, shining with the reflected light from the streetlamps outside. There was something so familiar about the way they held his gaze, unwavering under his scrutiny.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Nothing."
Dean considered telling her there was something about her that made him feel like they'd met before, but he was certain that they never had. It had to be his imagination.
"I've got a pair," he informed her to break the silence that was quickly gaining tension.
"Me too," she replied. Her pair was higher than his. Her attention was drawn by a dark silhouette creeping around the perimeter of Dr. Avery's home.
"Looks like you owe me more than just the pot," Vera said triumphantly, nodding in the direction of the house.
"I'll be damned," Dean frowned, turning in time to see the figure tumble over Avery's security fence.
"Time to move."
Dean was seriously perturbed by this turn of events. Vera was, by all appearances, correct in her theory about Alice's motives for being in town. He followed her to Avery's front door, where he quickly worked the lock over and gained them entrance to the parlor. Vera took the lead, gun drawn as she crept through the house, making for the back in attempt to head Alice off. Behind her, Dean's heart was beating double time. He was weaponless and realizing for the first time that he actually was in over his head.
"Well, do you love her or not, Winchester?"
In his head, Vera's voice sounded eerily similar to Alice's.
Dean couldn't go through with this. Vera had made a critical mistake by letting him get behind her. He picked up a lamp in passing and shattered it over her head with brutal, decisive force. With a groan, she crumpled to the floor, down for the count. Dean bent down to take her gun.
"Agent Hicks?"
Dr. Avery's voice nearly gave him a heart attack, but Dean managed to regain his composure enough to avoid accidentally shooting the woman.
"What... what are you doing in my house?" she asked.
Dean put a finger to his lips, nodding to the back of the house.
"You need to get out of here," he said quietly. "The woman who shot up your clinic? She's here."
"What?!"
"Look, I need you to get out of the house," Dean told her again, getting frustrated with her. He didn't have time for her to process what was going on.
"Dean? Dean Winchester, is that you?"
Dean froze in his tracks, Alice's voice paralyzing him. Dean hadn't heard her voice since...
"Dean! Dean! God damn, you Dean Winchester!"
The memory was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Dean struggling to adjust in the moment. He whipped around to see Alice standing over Vera's limp form, staring at him with open-mouthed amazement.
"Oh my God, is it really you?" she asked, stepping over Vera as she squinted in the darkness.
"Yeah," he said, starting to smile as he looked her over. In spite of everything that had transpired between them, Alice was a sight for sore eyes.
So it puzzled him when she raised her gun and started shooting at him.
"What the-"
Dean dove for cover while Dr. Avery screamed and bullets flew. Dean returned fire from behind a sofa, prompting Alice to duck back into the room she had come from.
"You son of a bitch!" Alice snarled from behind a wall. "I've been waiting for months to run into you again."
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded, peeking up from behind the sofa. He scanned the room to find that Dr. Avery was cowering behind a coffee table and Vera was still unconscious on the floor, oblivious to the fight going on around her.
"Getting even!" Alice yelled, taking aim again. Dean ducked quickly to avoid her gunfire.
"Hold on, let's talk about this!" Dean suggested desperately. "It doesn't have to go down like this!"
"What are you, crazy?" Alice demanded. "After everything you did to me? I'm going to shove this gun up your ass and use your spleen for target practice!"
"Look, I know you're mad at Sam!" Dean shouted back. "I get it! He pulled some real dick moves, and-"
"Sam? What the hell did Sam ever do to me?" Alice shot back, confusion coloring her tone. Dean was even more confused than she sounded.
"What?"
"Your brother's a scumbag too, but he's got nothing on you!" Alice spat.
"Alice-"
"ALICE?!"
Another barrage of gunshots passed over Dean's head and he wondered how close she was to empty.
"Guess again, Winchester!"
Dean's stomach dropped as he realized what was going on.
"Danny?" he asked in dismay.
"That's right!"
Dean cursed under his breath, checking Vera's clip and coming up disappointed. No silver bullets. She hadn't come in here ready to kill a shapeshifter.
"Well... this is an awkward reunion," Dean admitted. Especially, he realized, if Vera's theory was really right. "So, uh... I hear you're... what do they call it when a shape-changing freak of nature gets knocked up?"
"Yeah, thanks for that by the way," Danny scowled, stalking out into the living room quietly. Despite his soft footsteps, Dean tracked him by the sound of his voice. This kid watched too many movies.
"I've gotta say, I've seen some weird flukes in my time, but this... this one takes the cake," Dean chuckled, scooting along the floor to the edge of the sofa.
"Laugh it up, Winchester," Danny growled. We'll see who's laughing after I get my hands on you."
"Tell me something Danny, do you think you'll still be wearing Alice's face for the labor, or...?"
"Very funny. You're sick, you know that?"
"It's been said."
Dean took a deep breath and rolled out from behind the sofa. Danny was close enough to touch and he jumped when Dean appeared at his feet. Dean shot Danny in the gut and the shapeshifter doubled over in pain. Regular bullets wouldn't kill him, but they would buy Dean a little time. He tackled Danny, wrestling the gun out of his hand and hitting him in the head with it's butt to keep him down. Stunned, but still conscious, Danny fought back. He was stronger, but Dean had more experience. He hit Danny a second, then a third time, until finally, the shapeshifter was still beneath him.
"Dr. Avery!"
The doctor was whimpering behind the coffee table, eyes wide as saucers as she looked on in horror.
"Tell me you've got some silver in the house," Dean plead.
"What?"
"Silver! Do you have any?"
"I- I have a silver dollar collection," Dr. Avery replied fearfully.
Dean heaved a weary sigh and got off Danny.
"Great. Just great. How about rope?" he asked. He couldn't kill Danny right now, but he could make sure he didn't hurt anyone else.
"In the garage."
"I need you to get it for me."
"Agent, please... what's going on here?"
"Well... I'm taking this... woman, into custody," he explained. "My uh... my partner there is going to stay here and... dust for prints."
Dr. Avery gawked at Vera's unconscious form and fixed Dean with a look of utter disbelief.
"You're not really with the FBI, are you?"
Dean opened his mouth to lie to her, but realized it was pointless and gave up.
"You got me. I'm not a fed. I did just save your life though, so how about lending me a hand?"
Dr. Avery frowned at him severely, but stood regardless and gave a reluctant nod. She left and Dean wondered briefly if letting her wander off was a mistake. Was she going to call the cops on him? Should he make his escape while he still had time?
His concerns vanished when Dr. Avery returned a moment later with a length of yellow polyurethane cord. Dean took it from her and set about restraining Danny.
"If you're not a fed, what are you going to do with her?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding at Danny.
"I think you'll sleep better if I take the fifth," Dean replied. He hoisted Danny over his shoulder and started for the door, hesitating on the threshold. "When my partner wakes up, do me a favor and tell her I'm sorry about the lamp to the head... she just didn't give me much of a choice."
Dean left, taking Danny with him and leaving Dr. Avery standing in a living room that now resembled a war zone.
Hours later, Dean peeked out the window of the motel room he'd rented, surveying the parking lot as he pondered his next move. Danny was tied to a chair in the corner, healing rapidly from the beating Dean had dealt him. The whole situation was completely out of hand. In Dean's time, he'd seen some truly bizarre sights, but Alice's skin disguising Danny like a borrowed jacket make his flesh crawl. He could barely bring himself to look at the freak of nature.
Dean weighed the risks of taking Vera's car to Bobby's house. He was pretty sure she would come after him once she woke up, the only question was, would she be able to find him? Could he even go back to Bobby's with her on his trail? She knew that was his destination. If she did catch up with him, would it matter? He'd handled her once, couldn't he do it again?
Vera wasn't his only problem. Kaydie's car was parked across the street, but still within sight of Dean's room. He knew he would need hex bags if he was going to shake her. Bobby could help him with that if only he could make it there without Vera intercepting him, or Kaydie deciding to haul him back to the Smith compound, or Danny getting loose and bashing his brains in.
Dean let his head fall into his hands with a weary groan. He had a headache and wanted a drink, but couldn't justify getting one. There was too much going on around him. He needed his wits about him. He let his eyes slide shut for a moment, sighing in relief as their burning subsided for a moment. His relief was fleeting.
Hell assaulted him the minute he let himself relax, rushing forward like a hungry animal to devour any scrap of peace that he might have stumbled upon. He tensed as a familiar face smirked at him tauntingly in the burning darkness.
"Why don't we make a deal, Winchester?"
The demon standing over him was Alastair, the closest thing hell had to a head torturer. Sadistic didn't even begin to describe him. The very sight of his twisted face was enough to strike terror into Dean's heart. His bravado melted away under his tormentor's practiced hand. Picasso with a razor. That was what the others called him, and the title fit.
"You don't want to spend eternity on this end of my knife," Alastair purred. "What if I told you there was a way out? A way off this table?"
He punctuated his words with knife strokes and under the racket of his own screams, Dean could barely hear the offer he made. He heard enough though. Just enough to be horrified and disgusted.
"Shhh."
Silence engulfed them as Alastair opened Dean's throat vertically.
"So, sonny boy? What do you say?"
Dean wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he was too busy choking on his own blood. Alastair read his response from his eyes and clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Not to worry. If you're lucky, I'll ask again tomorrow," he assured the hunter. "Then again... well, let's just say you shouldn't get your hopes up too high."
Dean came back to reality with a shudder, desperately grabbing his throat to make sure it was whole. The vision was terribly vivid, the pain reverberating across his nerves as if it was happening in the moment. He stumbled to the sink to splash water over his face, washing away the sweat that had settled there while he momentarily returned to hell. His hands shook and his breath came in heavy, stuttering gasps. He needed to get it together. He looked up to find wide, terrified eyes staring back at him from the mirror.
Dean took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut.
"It's not real," he told himself under his breath, gripping the counter crushingly as he grounded himself in the here and now. Slowly, his heartbeat settled and his breathing evened. When he opened his eyes again, the terror was gone, replaced with shame. He could chase away the memory of hell, but not the guilt of what he'd done there.
What had he done?
Dean struggled to remember that part of his time, but he drew a blank. He was sure he had given in, sure that Alastair had broken him, and yet...
A groan at his back drew his attention to Danny, who was stirring in the chair. He squirmed against his restraints, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He spotted Dean and his features contorted with hatred. Dean ignored him, frowning at the reminder of the problems at hand. Hell disappeared under a mountain of worries as Dean turned his thoughts back to the issue of what he was going to do.
"So, what's the story?" Danny demanded, bold considering his predicament. "Is she back? Is that why you came for me? So she can take my life back?"
Dean afforded him a glance. Alice's face stared back at him defiantly, but the eyes that met his weren't hers and they ruined the illusion. Dean didn't give him an answer, instead pacing back to the window for another look outside.
"Answer me, damn it!" Danny growled. "I deserve an answer!"
"You deserve a silver knife to the throat, but people don't always get what they deserve," Dean replied ominously. "Not right away at least."
His response seemed to surprise Danny.
"You're just going to kill me?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"So... you don't care about the baby?"
Dean rolled his eyes at the low tactic and went back to giving Danny the silent treatment.
"I mean, you know it's yours, right?" Danny went on. "Yours and hers. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Dean opened his phone while he continued ignoring the shapeshifter. He was considering calling Bobby again, but if his last reaction was any indication, it wouldn't do him any good. Dean had to wonder if showing up at Bobby's house was even the right move. Would Bobby accept that he was back, or would he kill him on sight?
"Winchester! Winchester!"
Danny took a moment to get himself back under control and switch tactics.
"Dean," he begged quietly. "Come on, Dean. I know you. I know you're not this cold. You can't kill me while I'm carrying this child. Come on. You know you can't."
"You don't know the first thing about me," Dean assured him.
"I do. Come on now, what if Alice was still in here with me? What then, huh?"
"Then nothing. Now shut your mouth before I shoot you again."
"She needs this body, right? You can't kill me. Not if you want her back."
With Alice's face, Alice's voice, Danny was seriously starting to creep Dean out. He approached the shapeshifter, bending down to his height to study the vessel that had once contained his lover.
"Why are you still wearing her face anyway?" Dean demanded. "Doesn't seem like the smartest move on your part. All you had to do was shift and you could have disappeared. Why didn't you?"
"I tried," Danny admitted. "I couldn't. At first I thought I was dying. Then I figured out what you did to me."
"You mean..."
Dean gestured to Danny's stomach and the shifter nodded.
"It won't let me change shapes," he said angrily. "If it's not one parasite taking control of my body, it's another."
"Weird," Dean commented. "I gotta admit, I never thought about how you freaks reproduced. I always figured you were just... accidents."
"Freaks? We're as close to human as a monster gets," Danny protested. "My kind and yours... what's the difference really?"
"One of us steals faces and murders," Dean pointed out.
"Like you've never murdered anyone," Danny scoffed.
"No one that didn't deserve it."
"And the people I killed, they didn't deserve it?"
"The school full of kids and the mayor's wife?" Dean recalled. "My mistake, they really had it coming."
"You don't get to judge me," Danny scowled. "Not after everything you've done."
Dean started to tell him off, but hell flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked and a shrill voice begged for mercy. He swallowed hard and warded off the memories, staying stubbornly in the moment.
"Admit it Winchester. When it comes right down to it, you're just as much of a monster as I am. If you were any better than me, you'd give half a damn what happens to this baby."
"Ok. That's enough out of you."
Dean tore up a pillow case and stuffed the scraps into Danny's mouth.
"I don't need to hear about how I should care about a baby you've been running around trying to have killed all week," he pointed out scathingly.
If the situation wasn't so serious, Dean would have laughed out loud at it's absurdity. He looked outside for a third time. He needed to make a decision quickly.
His stomach growled loudly, interrupting his thoughts. He made sure Danny wasn't going anywhere, then made a dash for the vending machine. He met Kaydie's eyes on the way there, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end with the sensation of being watched. He hated being watched.
He pumped a few quarters into the machine and made his selections, only to be let down when the damn thing jammed.
"Oh come on," he groaned, whacking the thing in irritation. Usually he would have taken the loss, but he was too hungry and stressed out to let his quarters go to waste. He caught sight of a man in a suit a few doors down and assumed he must be the manager.
"Hey, your vending machine jipped me," he complained, approaching the man. He kept staring straight ahead, gaze blank as a clean whiteboard.
"Buddy, you hear me?" Dean demanded, waving a hand in front of the man's eyes in an attempt to get his attention. Upon closer inspection, Dean realized the man was wasted. He was wearing a tan trench coat and his tie was loosened and on backwards. His blue eyes came into focus and he looked stunned at Dean's approach.
"I need a refund," Dean went on.
The man frowned slightly and turned to look behind him like he thought Dean was talking to someone else.
"Can... can you see me?" he asked. His voice was gravelly, like he'd smoked a pack a day for the past ten years.
"Uh... yeah, you're not exactly inconspicuous," Dean chuckled, gesturing to the man's messy hair. "You look like you've had a great time tonight. I gotta say, I'm jealous. Seriously though, I either need my quarters back or a candy bar."
"I don't understand," the man protested.
"It's not complicated," Dean pointed out. "Money or candy. What's it gonna be pal?"
"You seem to have me mistaken for someone else," the man said. His tone was flatter than a pancake. "I cannot help you with your monetary struggles nor your apparent affinity for confections."
"Oh. You're... not the motel manager?" Dean asked. "Of course you aren't."
This guy was obviously three sheets to the wind and probably not the type to hold down a job, now that Dean was close enough to see him clearly.
"My mistake. Sorry."
Dean made his way to the front desk, only to be met with further frustration. There was no one on duty.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just great."
On his way back to his room, he passed the man in the trench coat again. This time, he was closely examining the vending machine, looking puzzled.
"It's out of service, don't waste your time or change," Dean advised the man.
"I fail to grasp the purpose of this contraption," the man frowned, tapping the plastic separating him from the candy bars within.
Dean kept walking, shaking his head sadly.
"Wow, some people really can't hold their liquor," he commented to himself as he reentered his room. "Ok, Danny, here's how this is gonna go. We're going on a little road trip. You can come quietly and willingly, or I can shoot you in the head every ten miles until we get where we're going. Nod if you understand."
Danny nodded slowly, fear and hatred competing for rule of his expression.
"Great. Now if I can just-"
He was stopped short by a knock on the door that left him frozen in place. He held Danny's eyes for a single second, panic petrifying him into breathlessness. In the next instant, Danny started screeching through the scraps Dean had stuffed into his mouth, struggling to draw the attention of the person at the door. Dean couldn't move quickly enough. He grabbed the bedside lamp and smashed it over the shifter's head. It didn't work as well as it had on Vera, but it dazed him long enough for Dean to drag him into the bathroom, safely out of sight.
Dean took a deep breath to compose himself, said a quick prayer, and opened the door.
It was the man in the trench coat. He had a chocolate bar and a bag of chips in his hand.
"The contraption surrendered your goods," he informed Dean, tone still flat as a plateau.
"Oh... uh, thanks," Dean said, as confused as he was relieved. The man gave no indication that he had heard Danny's screams. "That was nice of you."
"Of course."
The man gave a curt nod, then froze in place like a statue. Dean waited a few seconds, then chuckled nervously.
"You, uh... you want a good samaritan fee or something?"
Again, the man turned to see if Dean was talking to someone behind him. He looked back at Dean with eyes full of confusion.
"You can still see me?"
Dean was taut as a bowstring, certain that Danny would start screaming again any minute. He needed to get rid of this guy before that happened.
"Yeah. Ok buddy, have a good night."
Dean flashed him a tight smile and closed the door in his face. He needed to get out of dodge before the wino in the trench coat called the cops. He pulled Danny out of the bathroom, slashing the ropes that bound him to the chair and hauling him to his feet.
"Let's go."
Danny gave protest that was muffled by the pillow case in his mouth and which Dean ignored. A glance out the peephole in the door told him that they man in the trench coat was off his doorstep. He poked his head out the door warily and spotted the man down by the vending machine again, poking the buttons with confounded curiosity. Dean quickly weighed his options and decided it was safe to make a break for it.
"Remember, you come quietly or I shoot you," Dean reminded Danny for good measure. He marched him briskly to Vera's car and shoved him into the trunk. He caught Kaydie's judgemental gaze as he got into the car and avoided the blank stare of the drunk man in the trench coat. Too many sets of eyes. They set him on edge. He felt like a prey animal surrounded by predators. He would feel better when he made it to the highway.
He needed Bobby's help, but knew he couldn't show up on his doorstep. Not with Kaydie following him and the possibility of Vera coming after him. He tore into his candy bar as he worked the problems over in his mind.
"To kill or not to kill," he wondered aloud. He wasn't sure why he was hesitant to put Danny down. He supposed the thought of killing something that looked so much like Alice was what unsettled him. It felt like closing a door. Ending a chapter. Not that it meant much. If Alice somehow found her way back to the world of the living, there were plenty of hosts for her to inhabit.
Where was Alice? Dean didn't want to revisit the horrors of hell, but he forced himself to concentrate hard on the last thing he remembered before he woke up in the Smith compound.
He sensed more than saw the quick flash of a blade, heard a woman's shrill screams and the mocking demonic laughter of his tormentor...
Dean groaned as a headache hit him like a freight train. Dizziness assaulted him and he was forced to pull the car over until it subsided. His vision went white, and no matter how hard he tried, he could remember nothing else. A sharp pain in his arm drew his attention and he realized his Torxing marks were beginning a fresh cycle. He let them bleed, putting the car back into drive and continuing toward the highway.
Dean felt like he was lost, drifting in a sea of unanswered questions. He needed to know what had become of Alice, needed to know how he had really made it out of hell and why he couldn't remember. He needed to see Sam and he needed some advice about what to do with the pregnant shapeshifter in his trunk.
Dean needed a plan.