Strange Angels

This is set sometime after the end of Season 1. While it doesn't break canon to my knowledge, it is definitely AU. The Winchesters survived – John is off searching for more information on the demon, and the boys are playing knight errant.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, OMC (Alex Masters), OFC (Charlotte Webb)

Disclaimer: The Winchester boys aren't mine. The Colt isn't mine. Wish the car was mine. But I can only blame myself for the Circle of Enoch.

Rating: M (Overall rating. This chapter is fairly tame.)

Summary: Sam gets tested. Dean gets testy. Charlotte wishes she got the nachos.

Feedback: Absolutely!

Miscellaneous: Special thanks to Raven9 for all her hard work being my beta in this section.

Chapter One: I Have the Touch

Back in college, Charlotte would have killed for a bar like Alfie's.

It was dark and more than a little pretentious, tucked between the dorms of Emerson College and a small street of Victorian houses nicknamed Fraternity Row. Someone had decided to cover the walls with devil masks and supernatural scenes, lurid pictures of witches dancing naked around fires or demons chasing down prey – but it had a decent sound system, the beer was cheap and the nachos were tasty.

She would have sat in a pit for a DJ as good as the one who had been spinning at Alfie's for three nights running.

I'm waiting for ignition, I'm looking for a spark –
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark.

"You're unbelievable." Alex's voice interrupted her thoughts, breaking into the music. "We're on a mission, Charlotte."

Alex Masters lived for his missions. If something didn't fulfill the Council's wishes, it was an unnecessary temptation. And the man did not give into temptation. He would let himself bleed out for the Council if it would do the job, believing everything that the Circle of Enoch taught about blood and power, and the only time he smiled were those days when Alex Masters was doing the Council's bidding.

Sometimes she wondered if he went to sleep reciting the Council's mantras to himself.

Pleasure leads to weakness. Weakness is unacceptable. Only the strong will fulfill the mission.

But it wasn't like the mission needed her. Charlotte wasn't a total idiot – traveling with the man for three weeks had taught her one simple fact. Alex Masters thought she was a silly girl best left with her books. What did it matter that she liked Peter Gabriel?

What really mattered was figuring out why the Council sent her along with him. Charlotte's expertise was in research. It wasn't like she could stop a monster by chucking Hesiod's Theogeny at it. And she was weak, listening to music when she wasn't reading poetry instead of following Alex's lead and watching their target. He would have no problem reporting her behavior in the debriefing. He'd probably enjoy it, as much as he enjoyed anything that wasn't following a direct order.

She shouldn't have cared about that. Charlotte had her own reason for staying with the Circle after her mother's death, the means to an end until it was time to set the plan into motion.

"Charlotte!" Alex's dark eyes blazed.

"How are we supposed to blend in if we don't look like we're enjoying ourselves?"

The students who had braved the storm outside were sitting at their tables, nursing drinks and talking softly to each other, but there were two girls in jeans and t-shirts on the dance floor. Charlotte smiled wistfully, watching them sway in time to the music and giggle when they missed the beat.

Seven years ago, Charlotte would have been one of them.

Hell, she was half-tempted to find the DJ, request last night's Orbital remix and join them there. At least it would be five minutes away from Alex's impending heart attack.

"We're supposed to be testing the boy."

Alex sipped at the beer he had been drinking all afternoon, shooting furtive glances in the boy's direction. Anyone watching their table would have would have seen nothing more than an obnoxious frat boy nursing a fetish for a pre-law student instead of a man on a mission for the Circle of Enoch.

It was the third and final night of the test.

And Sam Winchester was taking his own sweet time getting down to business.

The Council had always known about the Winchesters. According to Jacob, Sam was the key to their struggle – dragged into the dark by his father's vengeance the night his mother died – and the Council had used the Circle's resources chasing down rumors. Finding people in small towns and out of the way places whose stories ended up in a file with Sam Winchester's name on it. But John Winchester hid his son well and the Circle had never been able to find Sam Winchester until he showed up as a freshman at Stanford.

"You worry too much, Alex."

Charlotte glanced at the Winchesters' table.

Sam was working on his laptop, ignoring his surroundings and the two girls out on the dance floor who had decided to vie with each other for his attention. Teachers throughout the country had said that about him, that Sam Winchester made a habit of getting lost in his studies until all that was left was Sam and his books. Charlotte could appreciate that; she could lose herself in a library easier than she could lose herself in a song.

Those hours alone with his books had paid off with a full scholarship to Stanford Law and a transcript most people would kill for.

The bigger mystery was actually Dean Winchester. While Sam studied, Dean spent his time chatting with each waitress dropping off drinks at their table. He had even exchanged phone numbers with two of them, slipping napkins into their hands as they bounced on their way.

Charlotte guessed that was a slow night.

She sighed. Dean Winchester didn't even warrant a file of his own and Sam's file only mentioned him peripherally, a wild card with a penchant for chaos. The working theory was that Dean had retrieved Sam from Stanford after John Winchester had dropped completely off of the Circle's radar. That alone should have made him a threat.

But Dean was not one of the Blessed Children.

And, in the Council's view, that only made him expendable. If the test required that Dean die, then both she and Alex had been told to let him die. All that mattered was Sam. Charlotte hoped it wouldn't come to that. Sam was as important to her plans as he was to the Circle of Enoch – but Dean had done a lot of good and that had to count for something, even when the mission was everything.

Alex slammed his beer bottle onto the table. "Why are you even here?" he demanded.

He wouldn't say anything else but Charlotte didn't need her gift to read the frustration in the pose of his tanned face. She had never faced an enemy in battle. Charlotte lived in her books, in dead languages and old prophecies, and had never once enjoyed the life and death struggle of the mission.

She was just as expendable as Dean Winchester.

"You're acting like an idiot."

Charlotte would have said more but Dean Winchester was looking in their direction. His hazel eyes met Charlotte's from across the room. She smiled at him, exuding as much nonchalance as she could muster under the circumstances, but Charlotte didn't think it would stop him. She knew what the brothers were tracking, a succubus the Circle had let loose on campus to lure them to Emerson College, and Charlotte was a viable suspect – especially given Alex's propensity for outbursts. A succubus evoked strong emotions and anyone trained to know the warning signals would recognize emotional agitation when they saw it.

And Dean had no way of knowing that Alex was naturally an asshole.

She took the opportunity to read Dean as he approached. He was surprisingly well-shielded, caution occasionally flickering underneath his charm. The Circle might have believed that he was a reckless hunter but there was nothing reckless in the way he looked at her.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. Dean Winchester's smiled was calculated to set her at ease, watching her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Maybe he wasn't entirely convinced that she was his target but he slid into the booth next to her before Charlotte could respond, cutting off her only means of a quick escape.

"We're busy." Alex swallowed deeply, draining the last of his beer. "Do you mind?"

"Nope." Dean raised an eyebrow. "I've been watching you watch my little brother all night."

Alex frowned. "And your point?"

Dean grinned. "He's not interested in boys."

The smile in his eyes had disappeared.

Don't laugh, Charlotte.

Alex was furious but Charlotte could be as charming as a Winchester if she needed to be. All she had to do was flip the switch and Charlotte Anne Webb would disappear. "I knew all this poetry wouldn't be good for you, Alex." She pushed Alex's feelings aside, smiling brightly at Dean. "The only cure for Emily Dickinson is beer." Charlotte patted the well-worn copy of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson on the table in front of her. "That's a lesser known corollary to the 'Only a lager can kill a vindaloo' axiom," she added.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Alex hissed.

"Jokes aren't funny when you have to explain them, Alex." Charlotte sighed. "But I'll forgive you for asking if you get me another beer." She winked at Dean as she reached for her purse, pulling out a ten dollar bill and handing it to Alex. "And could you buy me some nachos, too, please?"

Alex took the money slowly, grinning at her when their fingers touched, and Charlotte shivered.

He wanted to choke her.

"Get me a beer, too, big boy," Dean added, grabbing some money out of his jeans pocket.

Alex snatched the money from Dean's hand and stalked towards the bar in the back of the room. She was going to get quite the lecture when Alex returned and Charlotte doubted that even Dean Winchester's presence would stop him.

With any luck, it wouldn't matter.

"Nice guy. Boyfriend?" Dean chuckled and goose bumps tingled along the length of her arms.

He had to realize what he was doing every time he smiled.

Charlotte snorted. "I'm his tutor."

"That's cool," he replied simply. The warmth in his smile reached his eyes when they flickered across the title on her book and his body relaxed, curiosity overcoming his caution. She was nothing more to him than what she appeared to be, a mousy young woman sitting in a bar reading Emily Dickinson when a succubus was loose on campus. Charlotte could use that to her advantage.

"I should thank you for rescuing me."

Stop flirting with him.

It had to be his eyes – being on the receiving end of that hazel-eyed stare was a heady experience, even for the girl who realized that Dean Winchester's attention was simply a part of his job.

Charlotte took a deep breath, leaning back in the seat. Alex was waiting for the bartender and he didn't look pleased. He was staring at Sam Winchester pecking away on his laptop and pursing his lips in concentration. Charlotte inclined her head in Alex's direction. "But maybe you should go rescue your brother now."

Dean followed her eyes and laughed outright at that. "Sam can handle himself. It'll just build character." He felt comfortable in the rhythm of the conversation. "I'm Dean. Dean Ables."

Not comfortable enough to use his own name – but that had nothing to do with her.

"Charlotte Webb."

It was the truth.

"No kidding?"

"My father had a unique sense of humor," she answered immediately, her cheeks flushing. She could have kicked herself – mentioning her father was always a mistake, the hole inside of her that she could never fill. And she was still clawing her way out.

It didn't help that Dean Winchester was watching her with the eyes of a son who had lost his mother.

You idiot!

Charlotte immediately closed her inner shields. All he was doing was checking her off of his list of potential threats but that split-second of connection had been dangerous. Unexpected. There was no other reason to explain why she had opened herself up completely to the force of his charm, accepting the comfort offered in his eyes.

Focus on your plan.

"I'm glad I rescued you." Dean's voice was thick.

Charlotte could only nod, trying to call up Miles' face when Dean's arm came around her. He was breathing slowly in her ear, the smell of his leather jacket mingling with the scent coming off of his hair, and Charlotte trembled when a rush of hot air brushed the skin underneath her ear. She was an arrow ready to be loosed from its bow, her body softening against his like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Christo," Dean whispered in her ear.

Charlotte jerked convulsively at the word and caught the look of triumph in his hazel eyes. Dean Winchester was good. Very, very good. Knowing that didn't alleviate the pain of his grip as he pushed her into the corner of the booth. "That was your plan?" Charlotte hissed at him.

I am such an idiot.

"What?" Dean's eyes widened and he leaned into her roughly.

"It caught you, didn't it?" Sam Winchester's angry face appeared over his brother's shoulder. He leaned across Dean, pressing a crucifix into her face – its edges scratching her cheek as she struggled to get free. Sam was holding a leather-bound book and she could hear the cadence of poorly pronounced Latin.

The Winchesters were trying to exorcise her.

"That hurts." Charlotte tried to twist out of Dean's grip. Why isn't anyone trying to help me? Not that she would expect Alex to do a goddamn thing except lean back against the bar and crack open his beer but there were other people in the bar watching two men attacking an unarmed women. The booth wasn't that well-hidden from the rest of the room.

"It burns, doesn't it?" Any semblance of charm was gone from Dean Winchester's eyes. "It's sanctified, demon bitch!"

Charlotte jerked forward with her head, smashing into Dean's mouth with enough force to break the skin. "I said it hurts!" She sensed fear coming from the dance floor and some pervert was actually getting off on what was happening but most people were just trying to ignore it, embarrassed by their inaction. And she sensed panic, as cold as Alex's smile when their eyes met.

I'm part of the test.

It was obvious as soon as she realized it. If sacrificing Dean Winchester didn't work, throw in an innocent girl. Charlotte didn't know who to be angrier at, herself or Alex Masters. Charlotte jerked forward again, hoping to use the momentum to loosen Dean's grip. "I didn't say it burns," she snapped.

It didn't work. Dean Winchester was too strong.

And right now, he's pissed off.

There were times when she was growing up that she wished her gift was something practical like telekinesis, because Charlotte would have happily blasted that self-serving grin off of Dean Winchester's face when he started dousing her with holy water. He actually cackled out loud when she gasped and ended up swallowing a mouthful of water.

Sam frowned suddenly and stopped reciting the ritual.

"She's human, Dean."

"Hell of a head butt, though," his brother replied grudgingly. Dean stopped leaning into her, but he didn't relax his hold on her arm. He touched his lip gingerly with a free hand, looking at the blood on his fingers. Charlotte could sense his confusion, the fleeting spark of longing matching the mistrust. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

"How many times do I have to say Christus before you're satisfied?" Charlotte returned Dean Winchester's smirk with one of her own.

Dean loosened his grip just enough for her to pull herself outside of the circle of his arm. Sam began scanning the bar for signs of danger while Dean slowly backed away from her to get his bearings, sliding off the seat. It would still be hard to get past him – she'd have to go under the table, knocking Sam down to make her escape. Like I could pull that off. Charlotte rubbed her bruised arm and looked directly at Dean, her forehead throbbing where she had hit him. "I can't believe you're supposed to be one of the good guys," she said.

"Shut up," Dean replied. He frowned when he saw the knot on her forehead.

But Charlotte wasn't falling for the act again. "Just how successful is this serial killer approach to dating?" she asked.

Dean stared down at her, his nostrils flaring, and she stared right back. She would have said more but the rush of conversation as the room returned to normal was enough to make the back of her head ache, the shock of people doing their best to ignore what they had seen like it had never happened – all that concerted effort to deny the extraordinary.

It was one of the reasons why monsters walked unrecognized in daylight.

"Here are your drinks."

A new waitress was standing next to them, setting their now-forgotten beers onto the table. Charlotte gagged, her eyes watering, and Dean's nose wrinkled with what Charlotte assumed was disgust because he choked when the waitress moved between the brothers.

Sam returned the woman's smile.

It wasn't simple attraction. It was like the waitress had shoved every sexual fantasy into that smile and Sam's body responded. He dropped the crucifix and reached forward to touch the waitress' cheek.

"Hey, cutie," she drawled.

The goddamn succubus was standing right in front of them and Sam Winchester was getting ready to jump her right in the middle of Alfie's dance floor.

"Stay sharp, Sammy." Dean positioned himself between the succubus and his brother, giving Charlotte the room she needed to run away.

A fierce desire to protect Sam thrummed through Charlotte, matching the wild look in Dean's hazel eyes. That was another thing that made Dean Winchester dangerous, another thing the Circle hadn't documented in their files about the Winchesters. There was a reason why Dean went back into a burning house and he was brushing one long-fingered hand down a succubus' cheek. All that the Winchesters had left were each other.

Charlotte swallowed, focusing on the waitress' name tag as she slid out of the booth. "Leanne?" The succubus turned to look at her, the stench so overwhelming that Charlotte gagged on the name. "Where are the nachos?" she managed.

The waitress shrugged her shoulders. "Not out yet." Her dead eyes focused on Sam – and her smile turned hungry.

Charlotte doubled over when a stab of desire lanced through Sam, followed almost immediately by the overwhelming need to push Sam out of the way. Dean was shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, tension unfurling inside of him as he tamped down the panic. Charlotte tried to get his attention with a shake of her head. He didn't know that the Circle of Enoch would never allow his younger brother to die. Alex Masters would protect him, even if Sam Winchester failed the test.

That was the mission.

"Dean, don't do this. Please. She'll kill you."

Dean Winchester ignored her. Not that Charlotte blamed him – the Circle was taking his baby brother away from him like they would have that night in Palo Alto. And maybe it was better that he did, because Jacob was wrong. Sam Winchester was just a boy, unable to resist a demon's advances – and a succubus was weak compared to one of the Grigori. How could Sam be pivotal to the fight when the demonic equivalent of a Hooter's girl turned him into a drooling moron?

The dreams never lied.

Charlotte lowered her eyes when Dean braced himself for impact.

"Christo," Dean whispered.

The succubus shrieked, her face elongating when she shed her human form – literally – and the stench of rotting flesh washed over them. The succubus pulled back a full-clawed hand and swiped it across Dean's chest, cutting easily through his flannel shirt and his brown leather jacket, and Charlotte gasped right along with him. The poison had already started burning its way through Dean's veins, an ache that made her skin flush, but that didn't keep Dean from moving back in front of his brother and bracing himself for the second blow.

You unbelievably brave bastard.

Charlotte bit her lip. The Circle had charged them both with a task, to not interfere unless Sam's life was in jeopardy. Sam Winchester's awakening to his ultimate purpose required him to manifest powers to protect himself when faced with a lesser foe. If the awakening of that potential also required the death of his brother, it was an acceptable price. Dean Winchester was not one of the Beata. There would be no loss to the bloodline.

But Dean Winchester was not expendable.

The succubus screamed again, raising a claw for the next strike. Charlotte swallowed. It was so much bigger than the picture she had seen once back in Jacob's library, the stench so much stronger than she would have expected based on an entry in a research book, and the only thing keeping her from throwing up all over her shoes was the clench of Dean Winchester's jaw as he faced down a carrion beast seconds away from disemboweling him.

Fear snaked through the room, louder than the screams, and the echo of it hummed through the back of her skull.

Run back to your hole, little rabbit.

Charlotte shook her head sharply and sucked in a breath.

She charged towards Dean, lurching forward when she stubbed the toe of her boot on the concrete floor. She threw her arms around Dean, closing her eyes and hoping it would be enough. The succubus' claw was liquid fire as it raked across her back, burning through her clothes and piercing her flesh and nothing in her books had prepared her for the pain of the connection as they collided with the ground.