A/N: Thank you Loreley for your review here and on "Being Human," along with Pony and Cruelest Sea on that story!

Chapter 6

Charlie couldn't get her heart to stop thumping like a wild rabbit that was being chased by a mountain lion. A southern fried, terrifying, mountain lion. She'd run—oh god, she'd run and left Ryn bleeding on the floor with those monsters. Not that getting shot again would have helped either of them. Charlie had careened down the halls until she came to one of the storage rooms, and then she'd locked herself inside and started tearing boxes off the shelves in search of a weapon that would work against souped-up Frankenstein creations.

Scattered items clanged across the cement floor with discordant clamors, and if one of those Stynes was coming after her, she was pretty much advertising her location. But maybe she could take on just one of them, if only she could find something decent enough to defend herself with. Metal glinted in her peripheral vision, and she snatched up the blade, only to discard it as a puny letter opener.

Blood was rushing in her ears like thunder. Where was a big-ass sword when you needed it? Especially in a place like this!

Charlie tripped over a decorative box as she scrambled toward the back of the room. Wait, was that a mace? She jumped onto her tiptoes to see onto the higher shelf, and yanked down the medieval weapon. The spiked ball at the end of the iron staff was heavy, but it was the best she could do. Hefting it up over her shoulder like a baseball bat, Charlie turned and crept back toward the door. Her heart rate was pounding too erratically to let her hear whether someone was on the other side, and so she took a deep breath to steel herself, and wrenched the door open.

The hallway was empty. Charlie inched her way out of the storage room and back toward the library. Why did it seem so quiet? She tried to make her footfalls light, but she could hear her own harried breaths echoing in the stone corridor. At the corner, she pressed herself against the wall and tightened her grip on the mace as she peeked around. There was no sign of anyone.

Dread filled Charlie's stomach, and she quickened her pace out toward the study area. She skidded to a stop when she found the Stynes gone, even the one Ryn had decapitated, and please, oh please may he not have gotten up without a head…

Charlie's gaze dropped to the floor, her mind first registering the overturned chair, and then an arm laying between the legs of the table. Her heart seized. "Ryn?"

Charlie shifted to the side, and shot a hand up to cover her mouth. Ryn was covered in blood that was pooling all around her, but the worst was the single rivulet of crimson trickling out of the bullet hole in her forehead. A strangled cry caught in Charlie's throat. Oh no. No, no, no…

The bunker door screeched open, and Charlie nearly yelped in terror. Clutching the mace, she darted to one of the support columns and pressed herself against it, willing herself to breathe and force down her panic. Her palms grew slick with sweat, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she listened to the footsteps clomping down the stairs.

"Charlie! Ryn!"

She squeaked in shock and relief, and whirled out from behind the column just as Sam came sprinting in, hair and jacket soaked. He threw an arm up defensively, and Charlie blinked in stupefaction at the mace still in her hands. She let it drop to the floor with a thud.

"Sam?"

"Charlie, thank god." He scooped her up in a suffocating embrace, her surprised "oomph" muffled against his damp shirt. "The Stynes got the Book, and I thought…" He trailed off, and Charlie pushed away to look up and see his gaze directed at Ryn. "Oh god," he choked.

"They came just after you and Cas left," Charlie said. "Three of them. Ryn killed one, but they shot her, and…" She flicked a glance at the box that had held the Book. The lid was open and the inside empty. Charlie's pulse stuttered, and she whipped her gaze around. "Where are Dean and Cas?"

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked as he visibly clenched his teeth, and Charlie felt the floor drop out from underneath her. She looked back at Ryn. "Is she…? I thought phoenixes couldn't be killed except by the Colt? They- there's no way the Stynes would have had that, right?" She hadn't gotten a good look at the gun, only noticed the shininess of the barrel when it'd swung her way…

Sam's throat bobbed. "I-"

He broke off with a gasp, and Charlie sucked in a sharp breath as fire suddenly spurted from the wound in Ryn's stomach, then another in her chest and shoulder. Lastly, her forehead ignited, and Charlie didn't know whether to be horrified or fascinated, because Mythology 101 said a phoenix burst into flames to be reborn, but Ryn was on fire in front of them…

The flames crackled and spat, staying confined to the bullet wounds instead of engulfing Ryn entirely. There was a spitting hiss, and some of the flames snapped like whips in the air, their edges tinged with purple.

Charlie shot a nervous look at Sam. "Is that normal?"

He didn't answer, but a moment later Ryn let out a low moan and started turning her head. The flames glowed brightly, giving one last surge and whoof before fanning out like mist across her skin and dissipating. The bullet holes were gone, as was all the blood, save for what was already on the floor. Ryn's clothes were singed around where the wounds had been, though.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and then she rolled over to push herself up onto her elbows with a pained grunt.

"Hey, hey," Sam sputtered, rushing over to kneel next to her. "You okay?" His hands hovered as though unsure whether to touch her, even though she wasn't currently on fire anymore.

Ryn made a garbled noise in response, and nearly pitched forward, so Sam finally shot a hand out to grip her shoulder. She gasped, and rocked back in his stabilizing grip. "Ungh, magic bullets sure pack a punch."

"What?"

Ryn lifted a hand to her chest and grimaced. "They had bullets inscribed with magic. I couldn't stop them." She jerked her head up. "Charlie?"

"Yeah, here."

Ryn ran an assessing gaze over her. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," Charlie squeaked. "Are you going to be okay?"

Ryn nodded jerkily. "Slowed me down, that's all. But they got the Book."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said. "They brought it to the exchange and…" He swallowed hard. "They managed to grab Cas, and now they have both him and Dean."

Ryn stiffened. "What?"

Charlie had known as much by Sam's face when he'd come in, but the confirmation doused her in a brand new wave of hopelessness. "What do we do?"

"Find them," Sam said resolutely. "Can you stand?" he asked Ryn.

She nodded, and he slowly helped her to her feet. She had to catch herself on the edge of the table, but still, after being dead only minutes before, this was a big improvement. "How did they manage to capture Cas?"

Sam's eyes darkened. "They used a spell from the Book."

"Dammit," Ryn swore under her breath.

"I'm sorry," Charlie blurted, earning startled looks from both of them. "I ran, and I should have stayed and fought—"

"They would have killed you," Ryn interrupted.

"Yeah, Charlie, it wasn't your fault," Sam chimed in, then turned to Ryn. "It wasn't yours, either. None of us were prepared for these guys. But the three of us are still here, and we will find Dean and Cas and get them back." He raised his brows as though asking them for a similar pledge.

Charlie lifted her chin. "Where do we start?"

"Security footage from the motel," Sam replied. "We track the van they were driving."

"Got it." Charlie headed for her laptop and immediately set to hacking into the Blackbird Motel's digital storage for security feeds.

"I'm gonna change," Ryn said, picking at her hole-ridden shirt. "And prepare an arsenal."

Sam nodded. "Good. Hey, did you find anything on destroying the Book?"

Charlie gave him a regretful grimace. "No. Just that something bad will happen."

"Something bad has already happened." Sam shook his head in frustration. "Alright, first things first."

"Got it!" Charlie exclaimed, clacking rapidly at her keyboard. "License plate, checking DMV…vehicle's registered to the Styne family, housed in Shervenport, Louisiana!" She let out a puff of air; that had to be a new record.

Sam strode forward to look over her shoulder, then kissed the top of her head. "Atta girl, Charlie."

Okay, next step…she hacked into cell phone records until she found a carrier also listed in the Styne's name, and pulled up the GPS tracking in "Eldon's" phone, since that was the one guy Sam had identified. "Oh," Charlie peeped. "I think they might actually be headed home…" The signal was on the highway making its way south.

Sam's lips thinned. "Then that's where we're headed, too."

Dean's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton when he started gradually coming to. God, this was worse than a hangover. He hadn't challenged Ryn to a vodka drinking game, had he? Because he was fairly certain she could probably outdrink him…

Reality slammed into him with a jolt as Dean remembered getting grabbed by the Stynes, chained up in the back of their van… There was something around his wrists again, not the cold bite of steel, but the inflexible band of leather. Dean jerked his arms futilely. Crap.

Blinking some fuzziness from his vision, he strained to lift his head and glance down. He was strapped to a gurney or something…

No, a metal slab. Dean gave his head a sharp shake to dispel the rest of its haze, and noted the somewhat fancy architecture of the chamber he was in. Multiple archways were framed in sickly sea-green tiles that spread down to make up the bottom half of the walls. It was enough to make him queasy. Or maybe that was from whatever those bastards had drugged him with.

A man with white hair dressed in a lab coat suddenly appeared over him. "Morning, Sunshine. Monroe Styne. Pleasure."

Dean grunted. Great, more dickbags. "Ditto," he rejoined. "I'd shake your hand, but uh…" He tugged at his restraints pointedly, and roved his gaze around. To his right was another metal table, this one holding a decapitated body. "Nice digs."

Monroe canted a simpering grin at him and stepped away, giving Dean a full view of another slab. His eyes widened. Cas. The angel was also tied down by his wrists, but he had a cloth gag cinched tightly in his mouth, and his eyes were cloudy as he gazed groggily back at Dean. There was a rune painted on his forehead in blood.

Dean yanked against his bonds. "What did you do to him?" Because there was no way Cas would just lie there languidly, held down by nothing more than leather straps.

Monroe arched a brow, then glanced at Cas. "Oh, just a trick to subdue things that are immune to the standard stuff."

Dean gritted his teeth. Shuffling drew his attention, and as Monroe moved further away, he realized there were several other people in the room—the three Stynes that had nabbed him and Cas, and a woman dressed up in a sexy nurse's uniform, complete with the stupid cap. Any other place and Dean would have been flirting with her. As it was, she was cleaning some scalpels and setting them out on a tray.

Then Dean's gaze latched onto Eldon Styne holding the damned Book of the Damned. How the hell had they gotten it? Sam hadn't brought it to the exchange…that much Dean thought he remembered correctly. He'd been knocked out shortly after Cas had been stuffed in the van with him, and things were still a bit hazy in his recall. But he did remember one of the other goons attacking Sam. And since neither of them were here that Dean could see…that meant either one or both of them were likely dead. Dean was gonna place his money on it being the douchebag, and that Sam was coming for them.

"What do you want?" he demanded. If they'd gotten the Book back, why haul him and Cas to wherever the hell this was?

"It seemed a waste to leave your body behind when we could harvest it," Eldon answered.

"When you what?"

Eldon grinned malignantly. "It's a family specialty…bioengineering. Surgical enhancement. And I'm not talking about nose jobs. See?" He pulled up his shirt, revealing a large surgical scar running down his chest. "Two hearts in here. Bunch of extra muscle, especially in the legs. Every man in the family's had a little something. Pretty much what you'd expect, though, given the family tree."

Dean's stomach churned at the horror of the Styne legacy, because all those 'surgical enhancements' came from other people. Victims. "You mean the Frankensteins," he bit out, affecting an unimpressed tone. He still couldn't believe Ryn had been right about them.

Monroe looked up from the sink in surprise. "Well, now, how did you put that together?"

Dean smirked. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. When my brother finds you, you're gonna wish you never came after my family."

Eldon snorted. "We're not frightened of him."

"You should be. And of a pretty pissed off red-head." Dean paused, and then amended, "Actually, two pissed off red-heads."

"The witch?" Eldon scoffed. "No, I don't think so. Shot her full of witch-killing bullets."

Dean's mouth snapped closed at that. What? What witch…? Wait, did they think Ryn was a witch? Well, why not? There was no reason for them to suspect she was a phoenix. But, when would Eldon have had the chance to shoot her…? When they'd somehow gotten their hands on the Book? Dean's chest tightened. Shit, then what about Charlie?

He glanced at Cas, whose eyes had widened in alarm, but he still looked too out of it to make any effort at fighting back. Dean gave himself a sharp mental shake. No, Eldon was wrong.

"She's not a witch," Dean ground out, as much a warning to the Stynes as an assurance to Cas that Ryn was fine; she had to be. Because witch-killing bullets were meant for witches, not phoenixes. "And they will find you."

Eldon shrugged impassively. "Yeah, well…as mighty as I'm sure your little family is, mine is a juggernaut. We're not ordinary men. We're Spartans."

Dean glanced to his other side at the headless corpse whose arm had the family tattoo. "But you aren't immortal."

"No," Monroe spoke up, voice tight with barely restrained impatience. "Not at the moment, anyway. You see, with the Book back at our disposal, it opens up a whole world of possibilities." He slipped his hand into a latex glove, wiggling his fingers to get a secure fit and then snapping the rim around his wrist. "The first of which—harvesting an angel's grace."

Dean felt as though all the oxygen just got punched from his lungs. What?

Cas's pupils dilated even further as he watched Monroe pick a scalpel off the tray the nurse had wheeled over.

Oh, hell no. They were going to cut out Cas's grace?

Eldon opened the Book of the Damned to a page he'd apparently bookmarked, and went to stand at the foot of the metal slab. Cas finally started to struggle, but his attempts were feeble at best, and it only served to increase his ragged breathing to the point his eyelids started fluttering rapidly as though he were on the verge of passing out.

Dean strained against the leather straps holding him down, spittle flying from his lips as he poured every ounce of strength into snapping them free. But he couldn't do it. "Stay away from him!" he snarled.

Monroe ignored him as he leaned down to undo the top two buttons of Cas's shirt and push the fabric away. Cas tried to thrash away from him, and one of the other Stynes came over to clamp his hands on the sides of Cas's head to hold him still. Monroe lifted the scalpel and brought the edge to the hollow in Cas's throat, right above his clavicle, and made an incision. Just a small one, and Cas didn't even make a sound at the mundane steel cutting his flesh. Dean almost allowed himself a breath of relief, because the Stynes didn't have an angel blade.

But then Monroe lifted the scalpel to his own throat and carved a similar incision at the base of his neck. He set the blood-tinged utensil down and took the Book from Eldon.

"Now, let's see here…" He began to read a spell from the Book, and Dean felt the hairs on his forearms prickle. Cas let out a guttural cry from behind the gag, and the wound in his neck started to glow faint blue. A tiny wisp trickled upward, like gossamer mist floating up to Monroe and settling over his throat. The man's eyes gleamed.

Dean started thrashing against his restraints and spitting curses at them. Dammit, he needed to get free!

The nurse came over and slipped a cloth gag between his teeth, and no amount of bucking could prevent her from tying the knot tightly behind his head, cutting off his shouts. Then she moved to the medical tray and picked up a syringe, casually measuring out some sickly yellow liquid as though her boss wasn't siphoning the life out of someone three feet away. Cas's limbs had gone rigid, locked in spasms as the Book's dark magic dug into his essence and ripped it free, layer by thin layer.

And all Dean could do was watch helplessly.

A/N: Another mean cliffie! And only one more chapter to go. But we'll jump right into the next story in this verse. ;)