Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Author's Note: As always, my heart beats for Maz101. Thanks, Dollface.
Chapter Nine: Three Seconds
Dean was impressed. Eva wasn't just a Drag Queen – she was a resourceful Drag Queen. The only door out of the room they were currently trapped in was locked from the inside and Thing One's key chain had about fifty keys on it. There wasn't enough time to stop and find the right one so Eva pulled out a forgotten bobby pin from the back of her hair.
They were out the door in less than thirty seconds and easily made their way down the hall and out the main door. Dean noticed she paused by another door where they had initially heard screams coming from and hesitated. She then turned her attention to the main door.
One thing at a time.
"Come on, sugar," Dean heard Eva say and she sounded like she was right next to his ear. "You have to find your legs."
Dean opened his eyes - wondered when they had shut - and saw he was outside being half dragged away from the large building. He looked around, trees everywhere now, the wheat field not far off in front of him and behind him - he craned his neck, felt his muscles pull from his shoulder down to his abdomen - behind him was an open side door of the castle where he and Eva had escaped. He let out a relieved breath and felt his body collapse to the ground, skin and bones falling like a pile of mush. Eva sat down next to him, her breaths rapid and shallow. "This body was not made to carry grown men across a field," she panted. Her short hair glistened under the night sky, wet with sweat. She wiped away a line of blood dripping down her chin but she only managed to smear it across her jaw. Her eyes closed and her shoulders rolled forward, her weight resting on her elbows, resting on bent knees.
Dean's hand pulsed. His ribs kicked him from the inside out. His head throbbed to the beat of Black Betty. The world was spinning around him and he felt like he was going to puke. His heart fluttered, skipped a beat, and then pounded in his chest. He smacked Eva's leg with his good hand. "Get up." Tried then to push himself up, could feel the heat light up his upper body. Got to his hands and knees. "Gotta get out of here." Gotta find Sam, he thought.
Eva took longer than expected to rise and even longer to get up the small hill that was in front of them. She had fallen back at some point, Dean wasn't sure when, she had been huffing and puffing for a while behind him. It seemed like forever to reach the top and when he did, he turned to give Eva his hand. That's when he saw it. Through the trees and brushes of wheat, sitting perched on a fence post on the far side of the castle was the dragon. "Mother fucker," Dean breathed.
Eva stopped mid-reach, her hand dangling in the air as Dean shoved past her. "What?" she asked, bending downward in Dean's direction and bringing herself up to a stand. Her foot quivered when she laid eyes on it, her shoe slipping on the loose dirt. "Oh, holy Sir Elton John."
Not taking his eyes from the creature, Dean jutted a chin over his shoulder. "You see it, too?"
"The big ass dragon perched on a fence like a ballet dancer?" Eva moved down the hill, stopped right behind Dean. Then, in a lower voice, "Yeah, I see it." And more. Much, much more: "I see your brother, too. Oh, Jesus, he's going to… Dean, he's going to try and kill the damn thing!"
Dean's eyes scanned the field. A few yards out, still moving through the wheat was Sam. He was holding the handle of a sword close to his abdomen, the blade flat and pointed away. He wasn't trying to sneak up on the dragon, though. No, they were having a staring contest.
Dean took a step, Eva in tow, and that's when it hit.
Whatever it was must have pummeled into Eva first who, like a domino, plastered into Dean. There wasn't a question of what was happening because he got that one right away - the ground rushed up to greet him. His face skidded a few feet down a hill of dirt and grass, wheat whizzing by, slicing his cheeks. His ribs must have exploded because the pain that laced up his side was from the inside and hot and cold at the same time. Dean let out a yelp somewhere between his head hitting a rock in his pathway and a frog that jumped out of the way. His body came to a stuttering halt, night sky above him as he opened his eyes, dirt falling from his eyelashes.
He lifted his head, saw Eva lying in a lifeless lump a few feet ahead of him. He wanted to ask if she was okay but his throat was clogged with earth. Well, that and the fact that slowly pawing its way to him was a large, mangy dog, teeth bared and saliva dripping from its mouth.
Dean grimaced at the sight. He felt his hand heat up, thumping a heartbeat that wasn't there, but screaming in its own way. Clumsily, he shoved away but the dog had him pinned, one large brown paw on his thigh, the other on his chest.
Its hefty head bent down, breath hot against Dean's face and then it released a skanky snuffle, hot and smelly. Dean's stomach tightened and he raised his injured hand in protest, pressed it into the animal's furry neck and pushed.
The dog craned its head over and licked at the wound. Dean pulled away and the dog snarled, nasty and deviant. He owned this package of meat. Dean stilled, watched in horror as the dog followed his maimed hand – deciding – Dean realized, that this was where it would begin in finishing off the job it had previously started. He imagined the dog gone, just disappearing into thin air. Gone. Gone. Gone.
Dean closed his eyes. Sam did that. Sam disappeared. He'd do it again, too. Just needed a reason. Dean bit his lip. Tried to retract his arm again.
The paw on his chest rose and came down angrily, the dog's nails slicing easily through Dean's t-shirt and ripping into flesh. Dean smelled more of his own blood and his body clenched at the rough, knife-like cuts. He hoped this wasn't the way he was going to go and hoped that if it was, he'd be in too much shock from the attack that he wouldn't feel anymore. His head hit the dirt behind him hard and he was panting, his breath wheezy as he exhaled. Sounded like a dying animal lying on the ground.
That's when he felt the dog again, gnawing at his hand. Lapping and nibbling. A little sweet, a little sour and his stomach rolled this time. He sat up suddenly, one hundred fifty pounds of legs and fur losing its grip and, at the same time, digging into him, trying desperately to hang on. Dean was going to throw up or pass out, take your pick.
The dark figure moving just ahead of him, though, made him think maybe he was hallucinating. And then there was Eva, on her knees, behind the dog. Hands the size of the Titanic reached for the animal. She wrapped her brightly red manicured nails around its neck and twisted it violently to the right. Dean heard the snapping sound with the motion and the small yelp the dog managed to squeak out just before it slumped to the ground.
Dean fell forward, on all fours, and vomited in the dirt. He felt Eva sidle up next to him and place a warm hand on his back. One minute, she's killing a dog, the next, she's giving comfort.
"If I had a gun, I woulda shot it," she said matter-of-factly. "More my style."
Dean nodded. He believed her and tried to show his appreciation by flashing her his killer grin but it was weak and he felt himself shaking. It was going to be a long way from the ground to a vertical position. Still, he attempted to stand up. Tried and failed and Eva shifted her hand from his back to his armpit and – there – is was possible to stand. Although he swayed back and forth and thought any minute now, he was going to end up back in the bloody dirty. But for now, he stood.
And there was Sam down the hill from him, sword in hand, staring down a fire breathing dragon which had left its perch on the fence post and was now pacing in front of the door to the castle-like building, waiting with restrained anticipation to see how the story would end.
"Sam!" Dean hollered. He took a step and felt the loose rocks below give way.
"Dean!" Eva's voice and she sounded like she was right in his ear. Everything was magnified.
He was down again, but landed on his ass this time, and was riding the hill and dirt like some kind of sled until he was close to the bottom. Eva was behind him and as they stopped together, the dust and debris wasted no time in coating their bodies and lungs and Dean was thrown into a coughing fit. He tried to call out to his brother but couldn't get past the S-s-s-s.
"Sam!" Eva screamed. "Sam! Wait!"
Not yet, Dean thought. Because Sam was yards away from him, without any back up, about to try and sacrifice himself to a mighty dragon. And then where would Dean be? He wasn't about to lose the only family he had and be truly orphaned.
You have to save Sam.
Fucking right he did. Because if he lost Sam, he lost himself. And one of those things Dean couldn't live without.
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Sometimes Sam knew his ego got in the way of the way he did things. Sure, he fought it - suppressed it sometimes - always tried to remember to put other's feelings first. Tried to remember that every person in this job had a name. That he wasn't the only person that mattered on this Earth.
But there were times, times like now, as he was walking toward a threat that Sam knew, without a doubt, that there were things that he was capable of that no one in the world could ever do.
It amazed him that there had been a time when he thought getting married, raising a family, and paying bills was something that would've sustained his interest. How long would it have been before Sam was looking for extra curricular activities to meet his needs? Hell, the two plus years he had spent in Stanford, he'd hunted two spirits, a chupacabra, and a possessed mouse. Not to mention an apartment, a used car, and a part time job.
Hunting was very versatile work.
And, in the middle of it all, had found love. He had convinced himself and everyone around him that it was enough. That he could be happy on love and books alone. Sam blinked. The dragon had flown off its perch and was pacing the entrance to the castle door now. It walked in a waddle, its huge hind legs moving like mechanical cranes. He could feel the thunder below his own feet whenever it touched ground. The dragon would often stop and check on Sam's progress, assess his threat, and then it would release a groan. Dissatisfied, Sam figured, that he was taking so long. Hurry up so I can eat you already. Sam swallowed. Gripped the handle tighter. He was just about twelve feet out, when he heard them. He almost didn't turn around, but he couldn't help himself. It was in his nature.
Sam turned, his upper torso doing most of the work, and looked to his left. There were some trees off to his side, drooping large leaves that inhibited his vision. Sam squinted. Just beyond the lining of the trees and the fields of wheat, there was a clearing at the end of a hill. There was Eva, screaming Sam's name and in front of her was Dean - bloody, bruised and broken. Sam felt a tug from someplace deep inside himself that he reserved for the people he loved most in the world. Most of whom were now dead. All of whom he could count on one hand.
He took a step toward his brother and felt a rush of heat from behind him. It was like something had lit him on fire and was enjoying the fact that his backside was burning. Sam spun around and brought the sword with him, his shoulder blades pulling with the motion.
The dragon stood at least eight stories tall. It sucked in one hot breath after another, its body swelling and growing with each inhalation. What had been an over grown lizard was suddenly something Sam had truly read about only in fairy tales. It snorted and it grunted until its cheeks filled. Its head fell back and it's mouth opened, filling the night sky with a brilliant light show of radiant reds and burnt oranges.
Then it stomped it's massive legs, it's large abdomen dragging on the ground as it's tail swished back and forth, kicking dust up into the air. It stopped in front of Sam, bent down and roared.
Sam was falling and he knew he didn't have much time. He acted without thinking, without waiting for a decent shot. He slammed the tip of the sword into the nearest mound of meat. Sunk it right into the dragon's right calf.
It screeched in horror. Sam's hand retreated the blade as the dragon took a surprised step back and then charged at Sam, fire spilling around its mouth, singeing part of Sam's bangs. The dragon squawked into the night. It looked at Sam, eyes glimmering as its pupils narrowed and betrayal replaced the adoration it previously held. No longer did it see Sam as beautiful. No, now it knew. It could see beyond the facade. It could see Sam was also made of dark.
Sam pulled back again and pushed the sword into the dragon's skin. This time just piercing its thigh. Didn't even seem to feel it. No reaction, just a small tear from where he withdrew the sword.
Sam swallowed. Stupid. He had to puncture the heart. Every dragon slayer knew that.
The dragon got tired of waiting and being poked like it was some sort of an attraction at a petting zoo. It pushed Sam down with its nose, released a juicy noise and slithered a split tongue in and out of its mouth. Within a blink, it grabbed hold of Sam's waistband between its teeth and picked him up as easy an insect. It tossed him around violently, the world jostling like an earthquake. Sam had a hard time holding on to reality. He wasn't aware of anything except the stomping from the dragon was kicking up more dust than Sam could take and periodically, he would swing uncontrollably past the dragon's chest. He visualized where the heart was caged. And somewhere between the ground and the air, realized he had dropped the goddamn sword.
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Dean wasn't even sure how he made it to where the dragon was, maybe it was Eva. Maybe it was adrenaline. Or maybe it was pure will but by the time he was close enough to do anything useful, the dragon had Sam dangling in its teeth and was shaking the shit out of him. He could see the sword lying in the dirt, dust and rock flying all around, quickly burying it from view.
Dean blinked and watched the quickly moving dust, twisting and twirling the earth. It funneled like a tornado, gaining speed in front of him. Dean frowned and bellowed a "Hey!" at the formation.
The Sylphid spun around, the face that looked down at him looked very human this time. Dean took a step back. Looked very female this time. Long dusty hair cascaded down rocky shoulders and the cone it danced around on looked like a dirty party dress. Very different from its masculine form just the night before. Dean paused… Guessed it was a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world.
"Ah, the disappointing one." It stated, bored that it had to even talk to Dean. "Now you want something from me."
Dean worked his jaw. Tried to slow his breathing, it was one of the only things he could keep control of right then. Really, really didn't want to get help from a creature he should be trying to figure out how to get rid of... his gaze flickered to his brother's body being tossed around like a rag doll and that was enough of a reason to bend the rules.
"I need to kill the dragon." Dean called up to the figure. Not a question and this irritated the Sylphid. It started shrinking. Dean panicked, hit a button before the Sylphid disappeared. "Please."
Out of his periphery, Dean saw the dragon drop Sam. There was no movement from his brother who lay flat on his face while the dragon clomped around his motionless body.
"You are not a righteous man," the Sylphid answered. "You have the tool, yes, but not the purity. Your hands have delivered too much death."
Dean closed his eyes momentarily. Behind his lids, he understood what the creature was saying to him. He blinked and took a breath. "But I need to save my brother... and I don't know how to do that."
The Sylphid waited, its body bouncing as patient as a hungry dog waiting for a bone. MoreMoreMore.
Sam still wasn't moving and the dragon was sniffing him. Dean swallowed. "What do I need to do to save my brother?"
"You are asking, then?" It's smiled said it all. He was caught like a fly in a web.
Dean felt his stomach pitch. "I'm asking."
"With the sword, of course." The Sylphid pointed a blocked finger in the direction of the buried blade. "But you have to be a righteous man, which we've established you are not, so this must not be the saving you are referring to."
Dean paused, eyes fluttered to Sam and back. "How do I save my brother?"
Ask one question and it will demand more. Dean knew how these things worked. It would make you ask it question after question, giving answers in riddles and rhymes until it drove a person mad.
"Oh." The funnel tightened. "Dad's secret." That irked Dean but he stayed quiet. Knew it had said it on purpose. Tried to play the same game the Sylphid was playing but in the background, he could see Sam was trying to push himself up and the dragon was wagging its tail in delight. "He'll be saved soon."
"How?"
"The how doesn't matter, does it? You should be comforted in knowing that he will be saved."
Dean rolled his shoulders. Nope. Not comforting at all.
"It just depends on how you look at being saved. You probably won't like it. You know, you might even go and screw it all up."
Dean's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means..." and the Sylphid twisted away, long dusty hair clouding Dean's vision. "Sometimes you have to let go for someone to truly be saved." It moved and Dean could see again.
Another question. It wanted another question. Every answer will begin another question. He could hear Dad's voice, Don't get sucked in. "So, I'll have to let Sam go and live a normal life?" Recalled his conversation with Sam when Dad was still alive. He'd hated the thought of it then, it had scared him. But now? If it meant Sam was alright, happy, alive... well, he could live with that.
"Why don't you ask what you really want to know?"
Dean could see Sam was up, resting on his knees. He was oblivious to Dean or the Sylphid. The dragon, too, didn't seem to notice them and took a step back, giving Sam room to stand. Sam started to raise, sword dug up for the second time that night and tight in his right hand.
"You want to know if you're going to have to kill your brother."
Oh, God. He was that transparent. Yes, that was it. That was the question he really wanted to know. Dean felt his face soften, embarrassed maybe because there was heat on his cheeks. His head tilted to the right and he stared the Sylphid down. "Yes, that is what I want to know."
"What do you want to know?" Bounced on the end of its tail.
Dean swallowed. The thing wasn't going to make it easy for him. The dust died down and a dirty hand cupped an equally dirty knob on the side of its face. "I'm all ears." It joked.
It's now or never. Dean glared. "Am I going to have to kill my brother?"
The words sounded louder than anything spoken before. It was as if one moment there was a filter, the next there was nothing. Just as quickly as they flew out of his mouth, the rest of the world seemed to move in slow motion. The Sylphid sat back, pleased with itself, long hair blowing in the cool breeze; the dragon's snout turned up as if just noticing that he and Sam were not alone; Eva stopped her descent down the small hill to where Sam was… and then there was Sam. He was standing, body limbs all loose and exhausted and when he turned, his eyes found his brother. Bruised and damaged. All the lies and omissions, the changing of the subject that Dean had managed to pull off these past months - you're not a killer, you have me, it was mind control, Sam! - all of it was thrown out the window because Dean had just asked a mythical creature to tell him the truth and, just like that, whatever faith Sam had in Dean that he could somehow save him from this mess, was gone.
Dean stood for a few heartbeats and just let his brother process. He figured he'd earned the look Sam was giving him. Hell, he probably wanted it. Here he was seconds away from getting the answer that he so desperately wanted to know and it was just a fucking set up. Get him distracted so the dragon could do whatever it was that dragons do. Dean felt guilty about that. Always feeling the guilt. If he had just trusted Sam to go in and do the job alone… but that was the thing, wasn't it? Dean didn't even have enough faith in Sam to slay a dragon without him. What was he really afraid was going to happen if Sam tried this on his own? He couldn't answer that.
The Sylph was laughing open-mouthed at him. The stupid thing wasn't owned by the dragon. It was the dragon's partner. And Marcel, wherever the fuck he had gone to, was an obsessed fan. An obsessed son. Maybe the dragon was getting old. Maybe it was looking for a replacement. Maybe metamorphosis didn't just change him, it saved him.
But Sam was looking at Dean through too long bangs and he knew. Now he knew, no matter what Dean would say later, no matter how much he would deny it. Sam knew. And Dean would give anything to take that back because Dean needed Sam to believe in him, to keep them them because without Dad, they had become so much weaker, even if neither of them would admit it. And then Dean wondered if he and Sam were part of this, too. Part of the morphing and changing that was happening around them. Dean, holding on to what was and to the them and the they. When he and Sam were now a we and an us. And Sam, wanting to be trusted to do things on his own. Not living in a shadow all the time.
The Sylphid leaned forward, dirt and rock scrambled near Dean's feet. "You want to keep playing twenty questions?" It sneered. "Like why you don't believe in anything?"
That, Dean resented. He believed in things. Didn't he? Rock and Roll. Loose women. Winchester Rifles. Roth was better than Hagar. That ghosts really did exist. That what's dead should stay dead. That he was never going to get married. He believed in those things… Dean closed his eyes. Felt his Dad place that baby in his arms and he ran, ran, ran through the hallway, down the stairs, out the door.
Opened his eyes. Could smell the smoke and knew he believed. Dean believed in Sam.
"Or you wonder if you could've done anything to change what happened to dear Mom? You want to talk about why 1983 was your worst year ever?"
Changed? Dean thought. He wondered if this thing was still on. Only one way to find out. Tap, tap. Dean cleared his throat. "1983? The year my brother was born. Fantastic year." He looked beyond the Sylphid's form, saw his brother standing tall now, air brown between them, eyes still fastened on him. Dean believed in Sam and, Jesus Christ, that son of a bitch was going to rip the shit out of that dragon. He smiled, felt dirt pebble his teeth. "Kill the fucking thing, Sammy."
Watched as Sam pulled back, just as the dragon was opening its mouth, teeth plenty and jagged. It shifted its weight. Attack mode. But Sam was faster and all muscle and meat. He hit the dragon first in the belly, nice and deep, wrenched the blade out fast. The dragon whimpered, releasing a puff of smoke. It fell back hard, rumbling the ground and shrieking. And Sam didn't waste any time. He clambered onto the rolling tail and climbed the dragon like a fallen log. Sam raised the sword one more time and slammed the sword into the beast's chest, burying the blade to the hilt and giving it a quick twist. The dragon leered back, its feet flapping air, its head tossing to the left and the right until its body went limp.
Dean took a step, not sure if it was dead or alive. That's when the Sylphid screeched in horror and started shrinking. It gasped for air but it sounded wheezy. A death rattle banged against its windpipe like an empty aerosol can and in a few blinks of the eyes, the Sylphid disappeared into the wind.
Dean's chest hitched. The Sylphid gone, the dragon dead… Marcel. Shit, where the hell was Marcel? Eva was running by him towards the castle and Sam was running towards him. He hurt. Well, he always hurt but this wasn't just the regular hurt. He was in pain. The ground was starting to rush up to him again when he felt Sam slide in front of him like he was coming into home plate. Dean felt arms catch his shoulders and he was being propped up by a solid weight.
"Sorry, Sammy," he said, but his words were interrupted by some kind of cotton material.
Sam, perhaps being fair, he thought, was a good judge and gave him some mercy. He felt a hand on the base of his neck and fingers massaged his upper back for a few seconds. He thought maybe – just maybe – Sam was actually holding him. But that was ridiculous. He sank forward a little more. Finally, he could rest.
Footsteps on his left were getting louder, though, and he heard Eva's deep voice slice through the thick air, "I found three girls tied up in a room! They are alive! I've called 911!" She was excited. It was a rush to save another person. "Candy Ass was in there and she said she heard Marcel tell his other thug to drive him to the club!"
Dean heard it, he did, and he responded. He weakly pushed away from the tree he must have been pressed up against. He felt Sam's hands slide down from his back to his biceps and Dean had to stop. The claw marks on his chest throbbed. His hand felt like it was on fire. Each breath put new pressure on his ribs. Everything was so hot.
"Dean?" Sam whispered.
Couldn't look up, not this time. There was nothing left to shield his eyes. Not even the dark. "Just give me three seconds, Sam." Felt a strong squeeze around his arms that didn't release and Dean was so very grateful when Sam gave him ten.
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Dean was falling fast. Sam guessed this by the way his brother looked - sweaty, hot, bloody, pale - a pool of bodily fluids. He knew his brother was falling because he let Eva drive the Impala. And, man, could she drive. Sam sat in the passenger seat and held on for dear life. Dean was in the backseat and literally took up the entire thing. He moaned at each turn, slurped in a breath at each bump. Released a whimper that had Sam reaching back with a long arm, only to have it batted away. Left it hanging there, though. Just in case.
Eva kept her eyes focused on the road and her trap shut. She said exactly three things during the drive to the club. One when they hit a hole in the gravel and Dean let out that... well, when he made that sound that had Sam's heart falling to his stomach and his hand reaching over the seat. She looked over at Sam and asked, "Should we drive him to the hospital?"
Which prompted Sam to take in a breath and before he could do anything more, Dean shouted back, "Fuck no! Just go to the bar!" Followed by a few more curse words about Marcel and the club, which Dean referred to as a bar and Eva as a club. Different names. Same place. And Sam really just wanted to get there and get it done so Dean would finally accept help.
The second thing Eva said was after a long silence. Sam was planning a strategy when he heard her mumble, "I thought I was the crazy one in the family."
Sam fidgeted at her words, distributed the weight under him. Felt wrong in his own skin and couldn't think of a goddamn word to say back to her.
The third thing Eva said was when they were almost at Knuckers. She put on the turning signal and her body leaned into the curve, her torso crossing the midline of the front seat and her gaze snatched Sam. "Hey, Jolly Green Giant..." the car was slowing up. There was the bar dead ahead. Sam looked over, matched her stare. "Are you doing okay?"
And it was a sudden thing then. All that anger Sam had locked away deep inside him, tidal waves of Dads selling souls and brothers keeping secrets and of Sams being terrified... it was like someone had come along, pulled the plug and, for a moment, it all drained from him. His eyes filled. He had to look away, blink hard. Tried to answer but all that came out was a squeak and he wished he was goddamn angry again because he just wore it better. Then her heard the raspy "Sam?" from the backseat and knew Eva wasn't the only one asking.
The car was put into gear and the ignition turned off. Sam turned his body, looked at the Army before him. Swallowed hard. They'd all seen better days.
"Eva, where will he be now?" The parking lot was still packed. The music spilling out of the building was loud, just like they were at a concert. Eva listened. That's BJ singing so it must be about 1:30. They're close to the finale. I suppose he'd be backstage, making sure everyone was ready for the last number."
"Yeah, that, and who he's going to try and steal. He probably only has one shot tonight at grabbing one of the girls and still attempting to make the formula. That way he can be the next friendly dragon in the neighborhood." Sam nodded, sensed Dean's eyes on him. He looked into the backseat where Dean lay still. Sam offered him a dimpled smile. "Dean-"
"Help me up, Sam."
"I was thinking," Sam hurried. "That maybe this time you could run-" funny choice of words- "interference... outside."
He was offended. Immediate. Recognizable.
Sam tried to save face. "I was just thinking-"
"Screw you and your thinking, Sam!" Dean hollered, started to push himself up. Never mind the grunts and groans. Sam couldn't get his or Dean's car doors opened fast enough. Dean shoving by him like he owned the place. Like he owned his little brother. Held a hand up to Eva who tossed the keys like a baseball and Dean was popping the trunk open, muttering language that would've had Mom slapping his face silly. He grabbed a .45 Wesson, one they hadn't used in a long time, and turned to Sam. He jammed his hand into his pocket, ignored the fact that his shirt was covered in blood and that there was sweat dripping off his forehead.
Sam shook his head. "You're a..." Felt his face flush with heat. Anger back in check. Thank you very much. "Jerk!" Said it. "You know that?"
"Yeah, I do!" Stayed very still, staring at his brother. Not giving up but not giving more, either.
Sam flapped his hands at his sides. And then backed up. Could never stand in Dean's way. Especially when there was a job to do.
Dean brushed by him, but Sam saw the quick twitch of his lip, the roll of his shoulder, and the tired, tired, tired rippling all over his body. Pain inside and out.
Sam felt bad. Felt guilty for this, somehow. And recognized that look on Dean's face, too. The heavy, heavy guilt. Dean turned quickly, then, shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Probably just the aching stinging down to his feet but the move made Sam back up. It reminded him of Dad about to take a swing and even though he knew Dean wasn't heading in that direction, he still balked.
Dean, instead, gestured to the trunk. "Choose your weapon." Smiled a little. A little bit playful, but mostly it was lethal.
Sam shrugged but retrieved a gun. Gave one to Eva, too. Looked up and stared hard at Dean. "Don't get lost in there."
Dean made some kind of tsking noise.
"And keep your phone on." Sam's turn to blow by Dean.
He heard Dean shuffling behind him, trying to keep pace with the other two. They reached the stairs. "Hey, Sam, if we're giving orders here –"
Sam whirled around. Orders? Yeah, Dad, give me the fucking orders.
Dean hopped up on the first step, level with Sam now. He leaned into his brother's personal space. "Just don't get yourself killed, okay?" Left Sam standing there, leading the trio now. Jutted a chin over his shoulder, "Bitch."
Sam sighed. Figured there was one good thing about tonight: with all that blood on his shirt, Sam guessed they wouldn't be paying any sort of cover charge.
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They entered through a side door and Eva pushed by Dean and started a race through the crowd, heading right for the stage. Dean stayed as close to her as he could, not meeting anybody's gaze. Eyes straight ahead, Sam on his heels, Eva too far ahead. Some help he was.
Eva curved around a cocktail waitress, one with an enormous feather hat. The server, having her order to place, turned quickly and bumped into Dean. It was a small collision but his body felt it. He let out a small cry, and sucked in a feather that fell from her hat. He felt Sam's hand from behind and swept it away. Didn't need any guidance or comfort. Idiot. Really wanted to turn around and yell, "Oh my God! I just swallowed a feather!" But there was no time and Dean was still mad. His eyes scanned the room. Found Eva, started after her again.
They were almost at the stage when Eva was spotted and it was just a matter of time really. Judy Garland's daughter eyeballed her and shrieked. Top of her lungs kind of scream. It got kind of crazy then. Dancers swarmed Eva from every direction. A box of Kleenex was passed up through the crowd like a mosh pit diver. There were hands all over her and, even though Eva was trying her best to keep them back, they were like maggots taking over. She was shifting off course, a circle of Drag Queens leading her to the door in the back.
The music never stopped, though, and the dancers on stage were oblivious to anything going on in the middle of the crowd. Dean could see from where he was that Marcel was not near the stage.
Sam bent down behind him, next to his ear. "Do we stay out here or do we follow Liza Minnelli?" he asked just as Judy Garland's daughter sped by them, wet towel in hand.
Thank-you, Dean thought. That was driving him crazy. Should've known Encyclopedia Brown would know. "We follow." Limped after Liza, caught the door right before it shut.
Backstage. Again.
It was easy to find Eva. They just had to follow her bellows. She let up, though, when she saw her friends enter and pulled them inside her dressing room, shooed the others out.
"He was just here," she was saying, hands shaking, eyes round and frightened. "When they brought me back, I saw him, down the other hall way, helping Patty Cakes." Eva looked at Dean who looked at Sam who looked back at Eva.
"How did he look?" Sam asked.
Eva frowned. "Winded."
Dean took a step, pushed Eva into her dressing room chair. "He means did he have arms and legs or arms and a tail?"
"Oh." Eva looked down, thinking. "No, just… no, of course there was no tail."
Sam looked like he had a hundred things running through his mind. Dean pursed his lips, leaned his weight on a dresser behind him because he thought he might pass out and he knew that that was probably the first thing running through his brother's mind. So, he had to be smart. Keep Sam on track.
"Marcel isn't going to kidnap anybody here until the end of the last number."
Sam lifted his eyes. "Why do you think that?"
"Well," Dean tilted his head. Took a shot. "He's a guy who likes a good show. He's going to want finish it through. And…" Tried to hide his worry and certainly didn't want to cause alarm to their guest. "And I think for him, there really is only one Queen that matters." Gave a weak smile at Eva.
There was a pause from Eva. Her chest rose and fell and she finally made a decision: she turned her chair around and got a good look at herself in the mirror. "Well, I guess if we're going to pull this off, the first thing I gotta do is put my face on."
It always amazed Dean how strong other people were. He and Sam had grown up with looking for the monsters under their bed. Eva just woke up a couple of days ago and here she was, ready to fight with them. So that's how he justified the fact that he and Sam had to help her prep for her number. She was the star, of course. She was closing down the house.
"Hand me my red boots, Dean."
Dean walked into her closet, turned on the light. There was about sixty pairs of boots and shoes neatly put away. Every girl's paradise, he was certain. He grabbed a pair of red, leathery boots and walked out.
She laid her hand on the heel, paused as Dean held on to the other end. "Red is my favorite color. The color of love."
Dean felt his cheeks flush. "It's also the color of sirens. You be careful out there." He let go of his end. But not before he smiled at her. She stood up, all 6'6" of her. She wore a red dress with a plunging neckline. Rhinestones caught the dim lights in the dressing area. Her blonde, curly wig was snug and secure and as she sashayed past the brothers she grabbed a red boa, wrapped it around her neck.
"I trust you boys will have my back." Grinned at them. Only a bruised cheek which was barely noticeable. A handler showed up at her dressing room door, ready to knock. She opened it up as he approached.
"You're ready?" he asked, surprised.
"As a lollipop."
He frowned. "You're never ready on time."
She reached a hand out to him and he gave her his elbow. Dean was impressed at how easily she could slide her persona in and out, like a chameleon.
"Dean, are we really going to waste this guy in front of a hundred people?" Sam asked, testy.
Dean stole a look. "It's a lizard, Sam. If it goes after Eva, yeah." Dean pushed away from the dresser. Took a step. Nice and steady. Stopped before he exited the dressing room. "And, come on, dude, give me a break. There's at least two hundred people out there."
Sam stood, sulked next to him with one of those pissy looks on his face. Up close, Dean could see there were bruises where there shouldn't be bruises checker boarding his brother's face, neck and body. He could ask how Sam was doing but he knew the answer and, further more, knew it would just be a set up for Sam to lie to him. So he sighed heavily and instead focused on Sam's half burnt bangs. "Oh, Ponyboy. Your tuff-tuff hair," he roused.
And Sam's expression turned from pissy to deadly, which was exactly the point. Even if it was Dean Sam wanted to kill.
They walked out of the room in tandem and hung out together in silence, stage right. Eva and her crew were just taking their spots. Everything was black, but even in the dark, Dean could still catch some of Eva's sparkles. The announcer was speaking, pumping the crowd up and they could hear the roar of fans calling Eva's name. Dean wondered briefly what that had to feel like: everyone wanting you, wanting to hear you. People getting so energized that there would be no way you couldn't feel all that love.
Surrounded for that moment, Dean realized. In the quiet of her home, Dean had seen it: Eva was lonely.
The purple, velvet curtains were drawing back. A spotlight found their star. Eva looked up, directly into the pouring brightness. She put the microphone up to her lips and took a deep breath. "I'm sailing away, Set an open course for the virgin sea. 'Cause I've got to be free, Free to face the life that's ahead of me…"
Dean felt Sam's elbow nudge his side. It was gentle, but deliberate and Dean leaned back.
"Eleven o'clock," he heard, low and direct. Even felt Sam's nod and Dean followed it, without seeing it. Yup, there it was – Marcel on stage left, watching the Winchesters watching the show.
Nodded at them, eyes blinked, a quick flash of liquid dark, and then back to their normal grey. Dean's skin crawled.
Sam was off like a missile. He found the stairs, took two at a time and was slowed down by the crowd. Dean could see him get by one customer, only to be shoved back by another. His brother gone as his shadow, Dean could finally breathe – painfully. He looked across the stage again, became the night watchman, he guessed because Sam wasn't getting through that crowd fast enough and Dean wasn't about to try and dance his way across the stage to get to him. So he watched. And felt helpless, he had to bite the inside of his cheek from losing it.
Eva was tramping on. "On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard. We'll search for tomorrow on every shore. And I'll try, Oh Lord, I'll try… To Carry On!" Big old clad boots from the other dancers slammed down on the wood floor in synch with her. The noise they made was their own drum solo.
Eva meandered her way to the back of the pack, eyes skated a glance at Dean, standing in her corner, and Dean watched with interest as two guys came out behind a cutout of the set and attached two hooks to the back of her dress. It took all of about five seconds, two quick pulls from each and Eva walked back toward the center of the stage.
And then three things happened at almost the exact same time.
Eva hit the middle part of her song, singing over and over "Come sail away, Come sail away, Come and sail away with me lads…" and her body was effortlessly hoisted into the air. Dean's heart immediately sped up at the sight. She hadn't mentioned this. Goddammit. Wanted to pull her back the fuck down. Dean's eyes ticked over to Marcel who grinned, flicked a reptilian tongue at Dean. And Sam had just reached his destination and first thing he did was run his face into Thing Two's fist.
"Oh, fuck me," Dean breathed. He had no other choice now. Sam was fighting the thug, Marcel was slowly transforming and Eva was dangling in the air above them. Dean had to dance – walk – across the stage to get to the other side.
He took his first step and by this third, a confused dancer in a white leotard whizzed by him. Dean twirled along with her, her fingers tickling his waist, his hiking boots scuffing the floor and smashed into another dancer. Dean's hand landed on her… upper thigh… and he quirked an eyebrow as he kindly tossed her aside and pulled up his jeans a half inch. A boa was in his face and he wondered that the hell was up with all the boas. Pink and red swirls danced by him as he bounced off one dancer and into another who hip bumped him to the other side of the stage. That's where Sammy was getting the crap beat out of him. It wasn't just Thing Two, either. Marcel was all over him, too. Tail and all.
Dean swallowed. Took another step when Marcel swung around, lizard tail gliding across the floor, hitting Sam and Thing Two who both fell and then slid onto the dance floor. The song was ending, but the dancers were caught off guard and as they looked over, Dean removed his gun, pointed it at Marcel.
He heard someone scream, "Gun!" before he even registered that he was the one holding the thing.
Marcel locked eyes with him. He was as changed as he could get. Whichever ingredient he was missing, he hadn't found since his time at the castle and Dean was grateful for that. Whatever it was that Marcel was, Dean couldn't pinpoint and he didn't care. He was there to do a job and all he could do was control his own actions.
"Wait." Marcel said but he wasn't begging. "That gun isn't going to kill me and, really, you should know that I'm more like your brother than my own."
Dean heard him. Didn't pull the trigger yet.
"We're both, you know… chos-s-sen."
"You're not the right age, Old Man." Dean cocked the barrel. Left hand. Felt wrong.
Marcel ticked his head to the side but it moved like an animal. "Different age group. S-same destiny."
Dean felt the sick feeling of nausea churn in his stomach and creep slowly up his throat.
"The man with the yellow eyes-s has big plans-s for him." His tail twitched. "He's a great, great man."
Dean shook his head. Willed the nausea to pass. Shook his head harder. "But not you?"
Marcel shrugged. His arms spread open wide. "This is-s what happens to those who are not chosen. S-Suddenly, you're thrown away. Unwanted. That is, if you s-survive not being chosen. My life could have been a lot shorter." Marcel's eyes dimmed. "Takes-s all your power away. Leaves you to figure out how you can still achieve greatness-ss-ss."
Dean's heart sped up. "Greatness?"
"You just don't know," Marcel went on. "You have no idea how great S-Sam can be."
His eyes tracked over to his brother. He was getting a couple of good swings in now. Sweat poured from his brow and his back looked massive, his neck thick and his fist powerful.
I have to save him, Dean thought.
Marcel took a staggered step. "You don – You –" His words were coming out garbled. The hair on his head started falling off his with each shuffle. "Y… don… S-S-S… great…" He wasn't making sense anymore. Sounds erupted from him that were not human and when Marcel raised his hands up, Dean could see claws tearing out of his nail beds.
There wasn't anymore time to waste so Dean pulled the trigger, hit the thing square in the chest, just as Thing Two threw Sam down to the ground, pounding the side of his face.
The crowd was ballistic, pushing and shoving their way to the door. Dean watched the chaos unfold as Marcel absorbed the bullet, lost his footing and fell backwards into the curtain. The pyrotechnics, working on a timer, went off just as Marcel smashed into the lever that was holding Eva up, sending her plummeting to the stage floor. Right above Sam. Who was watching another terrified blonde fall from the sky. With fire shooting up around them.
Dean ran to the switch and pulled it the other way. He circled around and saw Eva coming to a jerking halt, inches away from Sam. The tips of her wig caught a spark from the pyrotechnics and singed Sam's cheek. Dean felt a muscle pull in his neck at the sight. And Sam…
And Sam…
Dean wanted to rush over, close the distance. Felt it all play out quickly across his face: horror, fear, concern, alleviation, love.
But his attention focused back to Marcel. Finish this fucking job. He wasn't a demon, but he was – morphed – enough to be able to turn his eyes black. Dean kicked the creature in the side.
He – It – moaned.
Dean pointed the pistol at it again. Aimed for its head. A defensive hand came up. Dean stepped on it with his boots and squeezed. Dean almost chuckled. Maybe the thing thought a bullet wouldn't be able to kill it but apparently it had never been shot in the brains before.
Everything was eerily quiet, save the breathing from the two on his right but Dean wasn't able to look over just yet. Because there was a small dragon illuminating from Marcel's arm and attempting to leave its host. Dean frowned, pulled out his dagger that he slept with at night and watched, both horrified and mesmerized, as the tiny dragon snorted a flame out of its nostrils and then flapped its wings, testing them out.
"You're cute," Dean said and the tiny thing looked up at him. "But we were never allowed to have a pet." He pulled the knife back and stabbed the little dragon in the chest. Like a balloon, it deflated at the prick.
Dean let out a held breath. Everything ached. Everything pulled. Everything hurt. He didn't remember walking to Sam and he'd unhooked Eva and got her on her feet before he knew what he was doing. He did remember falling to his knees, though, and the sound of Sam's pain.
There was a desperation lingering then between the two of them. Eyes seeking eyes and finding no comfort in either one. Dean placed a warm palm on Sam's head, fisted his brother's hair and wished that there was something – anything – that he could say. Swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I killed it."
Then, really, he must have passed out. Because he dreamt it was Sam he killed and he was glad he wasn't the psychic one.
Playlist:
Come Sail Away by Styx (performed here by the Lovely Eva Destruction)
A/N: On a side note, every chapter also has a line from the song Lola by the Kinks tucked away in it.
-Chapter 10 (aka the Epilogue aaka The Conclusion) TBC- in 2 days…