Daughter of Cain
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Chapter 8: Mother's Little Helper
Vivian's POV
Relapse
Humans have a weakness in their temptations. A child sees a cookie and would try to steal a cookie from the cookie jar. A teenager interested by the latest meme or challenge. An alcoholic drawn by a bottle of beer. An addict tempted by another high. These temptations were part of human insecurity and comfort. A fix.
To a demon, it is an adrenaline rush.
To a Hell Knight, it was ecstasy.
Cain had his temptation; one he has been resisting since 1863. After killing all those demons back home was a fix after protecting Dean Winchester. A courtesy. But the guy in the bathtub was a relapse. And here we are, standing in a bathroom with a dead body who has a knife in his chest.
I inhale sharply, "Who was he?"
"Vivian- "he started.
"Who was he!?" I demanded.
He sighed, walking over to stare at the victim, removing the bowie knife. "A serial killer."
"How did you cross paths with a serial killer?" I groaned.
"I was walking out of the woods and noticed this scum carrying a dead body out of his shed. I investigated until noticing all the bodies buried in the woods. Blood of Adam spilled from my bloodline. I made sure he suffered before giving the final blow." He explained.
"Did ya call the cops?" I asked, thinking about all the victims who have been missing.
"Left a note on the door for the mailman," Cain answered.
I took another deep breath having mixed emotions. Cain was telling the truth, he saved possible lives, he killed a serial killer, so what is the problem. The Promise. The promise to Colette he made so many years ago to never to kill again. The demons were an exception to protect me, to protect Dean. But this was premeditated. I'm sure Colette r would agree. She saw Cain kill, heard his tale, and begged him enough was enough on her dying breath. There was a fine line, and the situation Cain has put himself it was in the grey. A debate between a lawful kill and justice.
But the temptations? I held the First Blade and still feel the sensation. The surge of primal energy entering my system. My veins were burning with adrenalin, bones aching, and muscles tensing with desire—the lust to kill.
"Will you…"
I sighed and looked at the crime scene. With a wave of my hand, I alter reality to make the body that of a porcelain doll and blood vanished. Picking of the toy, I shoved it into his chest and went to the other room. After a while, we were in the living room. On the couch I held Excalibur, Cain was impressed since he thought he lost that sword to Magnus
"Did you find the First Blade?" Cain asked.
"Yes and no," I said.
Cain arched a brow. I explained to him that the King of Hell, Crowley stole the First Blade the moment Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb talked behind the demons back on killing him. The Hell Knight sighed, shaking his head. Although I could see why the Winchesters want Crowley dead from all the gossip on the demon radio…they should have done it instead of saying it. Now the Blade is missing once more.
"At least Magnus is dead, and I got the sword back," I said, trying to cheer things up.
"One of the twelve swords of the roundtable," Cain murmured, taking custody of the blade. "The one to rule all of Camelot."
"Out of curiously, how did you acquired the sword?" I asked.
"Simply asked the Lady of the Lake," Cain answered. "A powerful Natural Witch. Of course, never had a chance to return it."
"Do you know what happened to the other eleven?" I asked.
"Buried with their masters or lost through time," he answered.
I sighed, this was a distraction, but the serious conversation will come back.
"How bad are the urges?" I asked.
There was a pause of silence, "Bad."
I bit my lip.
The mark and the blade are an addiction. Those who hold the blade and kill have a fix. Just holding the blade felt the primal urge to kill. Even though I haven't killed yet, I fear the mark in my veins as a ghostly presence. However, with Cain relapsing, I worry how far he will go on killing, especially with Abaddon is hunting for us.
.o0o.
My cell phone buzzed, indicating a text. Checking my phone, I discover it was from an unknown number. Curious, I opened the message to see it was from Dean saying he needed to talk and to come alone. Looking up, I saw Cain on the couch, reading a book. We accommodated a summer cabin that was abandoned for the unwanted months. There were much solitude and peace, away from civilization, yet close to hunting animals. We thought hunting animals could be a substitute in curving his cravings for murder.
"I'm heading out," I said.
"Be careful," Cain said, not breaking away from his book.
I nodded and teleported to the address Dean sent. Not long after, to find myself outside of a bar. Typical. Entering the bar, seeing it pack until spotting Dean at a booth with two bottles beer. I walked over, taking a seat across from him.
"You called," I said.
"Didn't think you will show up," He grumbled.
"Have to," I said. "Since I'm yer keeper."
Dean paused as he raised a brow. "Keeper?"
"The mark has never been transferred before," I said, grabbing the second bottle taking a swig.
"God nor Lucifer left a training manual for what it does."
Dean took a sip of his drink.
"So why am I here?" I asked.
"I, I -uh, wanted to check up on you," Dean said.
"Check on me?" I replied. "That's a first."
He took a deep breath, his right hand shaking slightly.
"The side effects of the blade isn't it," I noted. "The adrenaline, the urges, the withdrawal."
"Yeah," he replied. "And you?"
I sighed, taking a larger gulp, "I don't know how to put it. It's like a meditated state of imaging killing someone but being pulled back. The blade probably didn't affect me as much since I never killed a creature in human form."
This surprised Dean. He was about to speak when his phone rang. He gave an apologetic look and answered, "Hey."
"Well, that took forever," Sam answered on the other end.
"Uh, well, I'm working," Dean lied. "You got anything?"
"Not sure. But, um, a handful of other people have started acting out, too."
"Acting out how?"
"Well, same as the woman – aggressive, violent, impulsive."
"Sounds like you're in a Gold's Gym."
"Yeah. Except it's less steroid-induced, and more…basic instinct. It's like the littlest thing can set them off. Kinda like me."
I listen to their conversation closely and hearing the symptoms. I know these symptoms are seeing them before around the world. The victims are soulless. When souls are the primary source of energy or food in the supernatural, the host would be empty and go by their basic instinct or become apathetic.
"Sounds like he is dealing with soulless victims," I murmured.
Dean raised a brow, "You."
"Yeah, Uh, soulless me. Remember that?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, how could I forget," Dean answered. "But you weren't out of control like these people."
"Everyone acts differently when their soul is extracted. Depends on the extractor too." I added.
"Dean, who is that?"
"Vivian, doing her checkups," Dean answered. "So, what we got? A crossroads demon making deals and taking people's souls?"
"No, I don't think so," Sam said. "I mean, it's not as if these people are making the winning Lotto."
"Okay. Uh, well, that was my best swing."
"I hope not, Dean. I-I could use your help down here. Dean?"
Dean had zoned out until I shoved his leg under the table, "Yeah, no, I—heard you. I just, uh…I'm getting close, Sam. I can't drop the ball on Abaddon right now."
I sighed, "Give me the phone."
Dean was confused until I took the phone and stood up, walking away.
"Hi, Sam," I said.
"Vivian," he greeted.
"Down to business, are the humans are acting more animal or more of Patrick Bateman narcissistic sociopath or a mentally disable..."
"Depends, its different for each, but one of the victims says he felt free after standing the waitress at dinner."
I frown, "And how many people are there?"
"About seven," he answered.
"And when did this start?"
"Three days ago," Sam answered, giving the fine details.
"Sounds like you got yourself a demon," I said.
"Wait, demons can do that?" Sam asked.
"Black Eyes pawns who can be promoted to an independent position under the training of a higher-ranking demon. But that is rare, basically impossible."
"But why?"
"I don't know, souls are souls," I said. "Came across some soulless when hanging out with Manson back in the late '60s. Noticing this behavior in the cult. I was too late to save the girls but sent the demons to hell. Sadly, Manson was a psychopath from the beginning before the possession."
"Thanks," Sam said.
"No problem," I replied before hanging up. When I got back to the table, Crowley was there. I leaned against the booth arms crossed, "My, my, the snake is out of the basket."
Crowley tensed when seeing me. I smirked pleased to know my presence scares the King of Hell. He may be the lord of the underworld, but he was still a third-ranking demon, a crossroads demon. If he were white or yellow eyes, then it would be a problem. Never met Lilith, but crossed paths with a few yellow eyes, although they are never coward like their back and red-eye subordinates, they still are cautious. Dagon, though when I crossed paths with her…she was about going through the motions, not like Ramiel, Azazel and Asmodeus.
Dean got up and went over to the pool table. Crowley and I followed him, as Dean set up the balls. Crowley hovered closely, which irritated the hunter.
"What do you want? "Dean growled.
"You tell me, Romeo," Crowley replied. "You rang. Let me guess - butt-dialed me? "
"Whatever the hell that is. Either way, we done here? "Dean threatens.
"Actually, long as I'm here, last time we chitchatted, we agreed that you were gonna line up Carrot Top." Crowley reminded.
"And you stole the blade." I countered.
Dean puts the balls in a triangle and arranges them in the correct order. He pushes them up the table and takes the triangle off. "Yep, well...I'm on it."
Crowley leaned over the table, "Unless Abaddon likes 10-cent wings, stale beer, and the clap, I doubt that she's here. "
"Go to hell," Dean muttered, grabbing a pool stick. He searched for the chalk, but Crowley held it
"Oh, if only," The demon chirped.
"That can be arranged," I offered, grabbing my pool stick.
Crowley scuttled back, leaning towards Dean in defense. "What's going on with you, huh? You call me, you hang up. You want Abaddon, you don't want Abaddon. You want the blade, you don't want the blade. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're stalling. "
Dean sights the white ball breaking up the triangle then glared at Crowley.
Crowley walked away, going to the other side of the table. "Just between us girls, how did you feel when you sunk the First Blade into Magnus' head? "
Dean was about to shoot, then stop glaring at Crowley, "Not half as good as I'm gonna feel when it's yours." Then strike the ball getting the solid green ball in the hole in front of the demon.
"Love it when you talk dirty," Crowley flirted, stealing the white ball. "You know what I think? I think you felt powerful...Virile...And afraid."
"Afraid? "Dean scoffed.
"Don't scam a scam artist, darling. You're stalling 'cause you're scared," Crowley taunted.
Having enough, I grabbed the demon by the collar and shoved him against the wall. "That's the pot calling the kettle black. Either you return the blade otherwise leave before I trap ya next to lucifer's cell."
Eyes widen in fear, the King of Hell vanished in a blink of an eye. I sighed, facing Dean, who was astounded by all this but nodded in gratitude. We played our game until it was done. The hunter had better skills than I, that won the match. Although, I feel like something was going on, especially in what Crowley said. We both touched the blade and felt the side effects of it. There was an addiction; adrenaline rushed that can only conceive through killing. I never killed a supernatural being or human before, but Dean…he has hundreds of deaths on his soul, and the First Blade awakens it.
"Anything else ya want to add?" I asked.
"No…just wanted to check up on you," Dean answered.
"You're too kind," I said. "Until next time."
With that said, I patted his shoulder and headed out.
.o0o.
Dean's POV
Dean watched her leave through the front door of the bar. When she passed the window, she vanished in a blink of an eye. He sighed, going over to the bar, ordering another beer. There was more to why he asked Vivian over but was not sure how to say it with fear of angering the cambion. He thought about Jesse and how he reacted when he told the bad news. So, to see an adult version of a cambion at a crowded bar was his mistake.
Ever since touching the First Blade and the adrenaline to kill lingered in his system. Crowley was right; he was scared. But was too proud to admit it. However, he thought about what happened at Magnus's estate, when the once Men of Letter's approached Vivian with the first weapon. He saw the fear of the unknown in her brown eyes. The tension and panic were shaking her near fair skin until the psycho put the blade in her hand, and everything changes. Dean had seen battle-ready monsters, and what he saw was a cross between a demon and an Amazon.
Vivian body tensed, her posture straightened as the veins were exposed, and her eyes had changed. They were no longer the light shade of brown. No, the whites of her eyes turned black, and the irises a shade of purple illuminating. Just for a moment, Dean was looking at a monster. But he had a hard time to consider her as a monster, comparing her to Benny. Good souls trapped in monsters' bodies.
"Better me than her," Dean sighed, taking another sip of beer.
And then Crowley came back, whistling for a drink from the Bartender. "I love this. I really do. A couple of cold ones, a kind jukebox... Good and evil, bro-in down."
"Shut your pie hole, Crowley." He muttered. "And didn't Vivian told you to leave."
"Yeah, but she's not here." Crowley defended. "Look, I merely suggested you might be a bit scared."
"Yeah. No, I heard you the first time. You still don't know what the hell you're talking about," Dean countered.
"I know that Cain gave you his mark for a reason," Crowley said, acting as he understands. "And I know that rather than embracing it, rather than looking at it as the gift that it is, you're sulking like you lost your knuffle bunny. Why are you fighting what you really are?"
"I'm a hunter," Dean warned.
"Who's a chip off the old Mark of Cain," Crowley teased.
"No. When I kill, I kill for a reason. I'm nothing like Cain," Dean said, as the Bartender brought to more bottles and he chugged one down. Wanting to prove himself, he wasn't Cain to himself, Castiel, Sam, and Vivian.
"Nothing like - who are you talking to? I know you're not talking to me," Crowley said, confused.
"Eat me," Dean muttered, taking another swig.
"I saw you. I saw the two of you together. Nothing like Cain? What's in that bottle? Delusion? I'm starting to worry about you, Dean." Crowley chastises.
"Yeah, well, why don't you worry about yourself?" Dean assured, taking a seat.
"I will. Cause like it or not, we're in this together." Crowley said. "Your problems, my problems... Our problems."
The demon got up from the stool and started to make his way over towards the back.
"Where are you going now?" Dean asked.
Crowley turned to face the hunter, "I'm going to go water the lily. Care to cross streams?"
Dean rolled his eyes.
"So serious," Crowley murmured, before leaving.
Dean suddenly grabbed his right arm, feeling a slight burn where the mark was. His thoughts drifted as he heard Magnus's voice echoing in his head. "Next time, it will be easier. That's it. Good. You'll get used to the feelings, even welcome them."
Dean held his arm as he stared towards where Crowley disappeared to. Then he remembered Demons don't take a piss. Never in his entire life has he encounter a demon that can-do function humanly. Suddenly he noticed a guy a few stools away holding a rosary and looked like he was prepping for a fight. The stranger even took out a knife from his belt and went after Crowley.
As much as Dean hated doing this, he knows he had to stop it. If it were any Demon, he would let the hunter have his game, even offered to help. But Crowley is in possession of the First Blade. If Crowley even dies, his chances of killing Abaddon are over. Let alone, he could tell the hunter was a greenhorn, a newbie, and didn't have the skills to execute Crowley or a demon. And knowing the King of Hell, more bodies will be dropping out of spite.
Not having a choice, he went after the hunter as much as he hated it.
Episode 9.17: Mother's Little Helper
To those who are wondering, in the Episode with Jesse Turner, he had turned Castiel into an action figure. Vivian was born during the Victorian Era, nearing the end of the Civil War, and her childhood in The Reconstruction Era of America. So, she grew up having porcelain dolls. Thus, her enemies or covering a dead body turns into a porcelain doll.
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