And we're baa-aa-ack!! My awesome editor is having massive computer issues, so please be patient with us. I'm writing a story just for her and it starts posting today so keep an eye out for it: The Art of Balance. Thanks again to all you oddballs following this fic. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did!
Chapter 45: Plan B
Under the cover of darkness, Bela slipped into Singer's Salvage. She decided this place had to be just a front for Singer's hunting activities. Further research indicated he also sold 'specialized' armaments to the hunting community. She was hoping to find a way of exploiting some of Singer's connections in order to get closer to Dean. Find Dean, find the angel.
She checked her drugged ground meat. It was gone. Relieved, Bela set to work installing her new cameras. Her buyers would not wait much longer for proof.
"I got it, Sam!" Dean's voice rang through the yard followed by the sound of a door slamming.
Bela froze. It might be time for Plan B after all. She was running out of time and who was she to pass up the perfect opportunity? The dog would be drugged and Dean was coming outside all by his pretty little lonesome. She pulled out her trusty handgun and checked the clip. Ready.
Moving the way Daddy and all of her years of experience had taught her, Bela silently made her way around the junkers littering Singer's yard. She saw Dean Winchester from the back, moving a little stiffly for him. She wondered what had happened. He was pretty reckless; he had probably just hurt himself pulling some stupid stunt. Bela hoped he was hurt, it would make taking him easier.
Bela managed to slide right up behind him without his noticing. With a wide grin, she raised her gun to his head. "Dean?"
His body froze in place. Only his head moved, turning slowly until he could see her. "Shit."
She smiled wider. "I thought it was bitch?" Bela motioned with her head toward the exit. "You and I are taking a little ride now."
Dean's eyes widened as his face expressed his disbelief. "You're abducting me? Are you serious?"
"Just for a little while," Bela replied. "Until your buddy Michael shows up."
"You mean Mike?" Dean turned slowly to face her, his hands up. "Sorry, but I don't think you're his type."
"He more into fluffy clouds and harps?" Bela asked gleefully.
Dean shook his head at her. "Just goes to show that you really don't know what you're dealing with, lady."
A low growl came from behind him. Dean waved one hand in the air. "Go back to the house, Hillary," he ordered.
The monster mutt which had already chased her off twice walked slowly into view. Bela was torn between holding her gun on Dean or the dog. She made a show of the fact her safety wasn't on. "If you have any control over that monster, tell it to go away or I'll shoot it."
For a second, just a split second, she could have sworn she saw Dean's eyes glow. Probably just a trick of the light, a reflection. The monster mutt came to sit right on Dean's left foot, still growling at her.
"Hillary," Dean said in a clear warning voice, "house."
The dog bared its teeth at Bela and snarled. Bela aimed for its head.
"Don't," Dean said with a hand practically in her face. "Look, take both of us. I promise she'll behave."
Bela glared at him. "How stupid do you think I am?"
"Honestly?" Dean asked in an incredulous voice. "How much time do you have?"
"You really expect me to believe that dog will behave? You can't even get her to go back to the house," Bela argued. "I should just shoot her." She lowered her gun to sight on the dog.
Dean's eyes were cold and hard when he told her, "You do, and it'll be the last thing you ever do."
No one could possibly be that attached to a stupid dog. She applied pressure on the trigger. Dean stepped in front of the dog. "You want me, you take both of us. Or you can shoot both of us and just take my amulet." He lifted it on its leather cord. "All or none, babe."
Now how the hell could he possibly know about her amulet deal?
"Fine," Bela huffed. "But if that dog makes one move on me..."
Dean knelt in the dirt, eye to eye with the dog. He did not say anything, but Bela felt as if she was witnessing an unspoken agreement being made between man and dog. Then he stood, slapped his leg, and led the way out of the salvage yard. The monster mutt stayed close by his side and Bela was deciding which offshore accounts she could use to put all her earnings into.
"The van," she told him when they made it to the street. Dean stood beside it docilely, though his eyes were making threats he couldn't possibly follow through with. Bela grinned, knowing how frustrated and humiliated he felt right now. She wished victory could always taste this sweet.
Tie-wraps were useful for many things other than the wires she had planned to use them for, they made wonderful instant handcuffs. Bela considered putting one around the mutt's muzzle, until those teeth made a snap at her and Dean didn't do or say anything about it. Apparently there were limits to his captivity. Well, as long as she had him, fine. His bound hands stroked the mutt's head as he whispered to it. People who had pets were so strange.
"I didn't think you had a dog," Bela said as she started the rental van. Could she take her captive back to her hotel room? Probably not the best idea, someone might see her. There were alternatives.
"Didn't pick up on that while you were spying on us?" Dean asked in his saucy tone.
Bela grinned in her rearview mirror at him. "I guess I was too distracted by your 'friends'."
The dog made some growling noises.
"Yeah, I know," Dean said with a sigh. "What do you want me to do about it?"
The dog made more noises.
Dean scoffed loudly. "She'd shoot you. Forget it."
"Are - Are you talking to the dog?" Bela demanded. Obviously Dean Winchester was not the most stable person, but really...
Dean glared at her in the mirror. "You mind? Private conversation here."
"Sorry." The word was out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about it. Bela sat listening as the dog continued making dog-noises and Dean argued with it. Yeah, all those years hunting spirits and zombies had clearly taken their toll. Dean was clearly off his rocker, or whatever the Americans were calling it these days.
Bela drove them to an abandoned house she had scouted a few days ago. No power, but the water was still on. There was a single mattress in the floor of the den, where some previous squatter had dragged it. She tossed her bag of provisions in a corner of the room. Dean and the mutt headed straight for the mattress. He lowered himself slowly to it before stretching out with a sigh.
"Don't get comfortable," Bela snapped. "You're sleeping on the floor."
Dean closed his eyes with a tight-lipped smile. "Bad back. If I sleep on the floor I won't be able to move tomorrow, and I really don't think you can pick me up."
"I said..." she moved closer, but that demon mutt stood between her and Dean with bared teeth. A low growl vibrated through the room, penetrating her skin right down to her bones.
"Hillary," Dean sighed, "get your furry ass over here." He smacked the mattress with his hands. She bounded across the room. Bela had expected the dog to leap over Dean and plop down next to him. Instead, the dog stopped just short of the mattress. She walked slowly around him, moving as carefully as if she understood Dean had a bad back. When she stood beside Dean on the mattress she sank slowly to lie along his side, her head propped up on his stomach. The monster dog let out a last growl, as though she was claiming her territory. Dean ran his hands over her head before turning his face away from Bela. Before Bela could ask about his back, he started snoring. Loud.
Bela found a chair which still had its back intact to sit and watch over her captives. She might have dozed off and on during the night, but Dean and the mutt never moved. Once when she woke, around three in the morning, she caught the dog watching her. The light from the streetlight outside reflected off the dog's eyes, making them glow an odd golden brown. It was funny, because Bela would have sworn the light didn't penetrate into this room enough to reflect that strongly. Then the dog blinked and the glow was gone. She might have dreamed it.
Morning finally came without any ethereal visitors and Bela was almost disappointed, although she wasn't ready for them yet. She needed to get Dean and her buyer in the same room so they could call Dean's little friend.
Dean groaned as he shifted on the mattress, bound fists going up to rub at his eyes. He looked around groggily, as if he couldn't remember where he was or why. The dog grumbled on his stomach before sitting up. Dean looked like he was struggling to sit. Bela watched, amused and wondering how true his story of a bad back was. That could be valuable information. Finally Dean rolled over on to his stomach, the dog moving nimbly out of his way. He pushed up to all fours and Bela caught a glimpse of the pain on his face, but that might be from the way his hands were bound together. Dean took a few deep breaths. Next he pushed up to his knees. He stayed that way for a moment, his back to her, breathing heavily. One leg moved slowly up until his foot rested flat on the mattress. He braced his bound hands on that knee before pushing up to a stand. When Dean turned around, his face was flush with his exertions.
"You couldn't have gotten the jump on Sam, too?" he demanded in a breathless voice.
"Oh, is he your caretaker?" Bela asked lightly. "I'll keep that in mind for the next time."
Dean stretched his arms over his head, wincing again. "Next time I'll let Hillary have her way, bitch."
Bela tsked at him. "Now, now, Dean. Be nice. I let you have the mattress, didn't I?"
Dean snorted at her. "Like you could've moved Hillary. Or me."
"You really did hurt your back, didn't you?" Bela asked as her curiosity won out. "How?"
"Like you care." Dean glared at her. "Now what? Let's get this show on the road already."
"This show is on the road," Bela replied. "I'm just waiting for my contact to give me a time and place. In the meantime, there's a chair in the corner which might hold your weight."
Dean rolled his eyes as he glanced around the room. He snagged the chair and dragged it to the middle of the room. The monster dog followed his every step like she was attached to his left foot.
"So is there a bathroom around here or what?" he demanded.
"Certainly." Bela stood and motioned with her gun. "Down that hall."
Dean held out his bound hands.
"Deal with it," she told him with a grin. The murderous glare she received was so worth it. When he opened the bathroom door, she announced, "The dog stays out here. With me." Dean gave her a quizzical glance. "If you don't come back out, I shoot it."
His face went hard and cold, showing her the murderous brute under that snide, sarcastic facade. Dean didn't even glance down at the dog as he snapped, "Stay. I'll be right back."
The dog sat with her back to the door, growling low at Bela. Bela kept her gun trained on the monster mutt, not trusting it for a second. At least Dean was a human being, a low-life human being but still human nonetheless, and so could be counted on to react somewhat rationally. A dog? Well, there was no telling what a dog would do, especially this one. This stupid furry mongrel just might rush a loaded gun, since it couldn't know any better. Bela relaxed somewhat when she heard the toilet flush. The door opened and Dean's head poked out. The mutt stood up and moved aside to make room for him to come out into the hallway.
"You do know the dog needs to go, too?" Dean told her with a sly grin. "Unless there's a corner you're not too fond of? And if you don't mind the smell. Personally, I'd rather not smell that all day."
"Fine!" Bela snapped, motioning with her pistol. "Out back."
Dean stood just outside the backdoor while the mutt roamed the entire backyard before finally picking a spot. Bela really didn't care what the dog did or if it even came back, but it did come back. They stepped back inside the house.
"What about breakfast?" Dean asked. "We can wait here." He made a sweeping gesture with his bound hands.
"Ha-ha," Bela said sarcastically. "Den. Move." Her stomach growled uncomfortably at the reminder. She hadn't planned for eating here, the decision had been made in such haste. Well, invention was the mother of necessity and all that. Very well.
Bela called her contact. "I have the bait," she said the moment he answered. "And we need breakfast."
After assurances of food being brought by trusted operatives, Bela slid her phone back in her pocket. Perhaps he would also bring an eyewitness the buyer would trust, that would make this operation a little easier.
Daniel's cab dropped him off in a depressed area of town. Of the houses which were not abandoned, many had cars parked in the yard, some on cinder blocks. A few sported bars over the windows, but such measures in this neighborhood would only encourage them to be targeted since they had something to protect. The trees in the yards were large, no one had bothered to plant saplings in the past ten years, at least.
He hefted his bag of breakfast foods in his right hand as he walked slowly up to the address he had been given over the phone. A lesser emissary could not be trusted, a higher rank would be wasted on a mere errand. If contact with the angel had been made, Daniel had permission to call the others. The Cardinal had also given him leave to wait for a sign and bring the bait, as the woman thief had called her captive, food. They had maybe two days before the Cardinal's patience dissipated. Considering the gravity of their mission, Daniel thought his master was behaving with extreme leniency.
Drapes faded from the sun and age hung in the windows and the single bush in the yard had withered brittle and dry from neglect, much like the entire street. He knocked on the door and it echoed hollowly inside in the manner of empty houses. Low voices followed his knock so he knew it was not completely empty.
"Just shut up and stand there!" a woman's voice snapped harshly. Daniel's feet rooted to the spot on reflex. The door cracked open, revealing only a brown eye. "What?"
"I brought breakfast," Daniel told her, showing the woman the bag he clutched in one hand.
"About time," she hissed as the door widened. She looked outside nervously before admitting him. Daniel walked past her. Just beyond, in the hall, stood a man with a large dog.
"Christo," Daniel said, hoping the woman was still busy worrying about the neighbors, as if she needed to around here.
The man stiffened proudly as his eyes flared green for a moment, the dog's a golden brown. Demons, especially the powerful ones, could have eyes a color other than black, but none should be able to glow with divine light that way. The man's gaze narrowed on Daniel as his heart leaped with joy. Even if they could not find Michael himself, perhaps this one would do. He was clearly not an angel, the fact he had been captured so easily made it an impossibility, but he was certainly special. It was possible this man could be special enough to fool the Pope himself, especially if the talk within his order of the Pope's foolishness and weak mental state were true.
"I am Daniel," he said by way of introduction. "It is an honor to meet you." Daniel bowed deeply with great respect from the waist, as he had been taught from the time he could walk.
The man regarded him contemptuously. "Did you say breakfast?" he demanded.
The woman closed the door quietly. "Back in the den," she ordered. When the man glared at her, she added, "Unless you want the mutt shot."
Daniel felt more than heard a low growl and he could not tell if it came from the dog or the man, even though the dog would be the obvious choice. He followed the others to a larger room where a torn and stained mattress lay on the floor and two chairs stood empty six feet apart.
"You might find another chair in there." The woman jerked her chin towards the kitchen.
"I am fine," Daniel replied. "Are you ready to eat?" He reached into his sack to offer wrapped fast food to the man first. Had he known what he might find here, Daniel would have insisted on preparing a meal himself. It would have been more proper.
Bobby stared at the surface of his desk wondering how in the hell the only people left on the face of the planet he thought of as family could get themselves into such deep, dark trouble. Constantly. If it happened just once or twice, Bobby could chalk it up to bad luck. But this? This smacked of self-infliction, constant stupidity, or a curse. Yeah, a curse would do it.
Dean went missing late last night when he took Hillary for a walk. After twenty minutes, Sam had gone looking for his brother, with no luck. Even though the precious Impala was still parked beside the house, they thought maybe Dean had been called on another one of his jobs. Sam had not been able to sit still, worrying and wondering. It wasn't like Dean to worry his brother like this, so they had to assume something had happened. It was unlikely Dean would be easily found, but that didn't stop them from looking all night for him. Sam was still out in the Impala driving through the neighborhood and searching for his brother. Bobby came back to the house hoping to find some type of scrying spell which might locate the boy. Sam of course jumped to the instant conclusion that Dean's disappearance was demonic in nature, while Bobby wondered if maybe Dean hadn't been called to give testimony in Sam's trial. For all they knew, it could've started already.
"It hasn't." It showed just how much his life had changed lately that the sudden appearance of a huge man with wild, wind-swept hair did not bother him. The fact that this man was an archangel should have him shaking in his boots, but Bobby breathed out a sigh of relief. Reinforcements had arrived.
"But it will soon," Michael continued. "I need to talk to Dean."
"He's not here," Bobby admitted reluctantly, forcing himself to look up at the archangel. "We don't know where he is."
Michael frowned, his eyes taking on an ominous glow. "What do you mean, you don't know? How can you not know?"
"He took Hillary out for a walk last night and we haven't seen him since. I don't suppose you would know if he was called for a job?" Bobby didn't like to think this way, but he didn't have a choice. "Maybe one where he went off and got himself hurt?"
Michael shook his head slowly. "Dean hasn't been called since the girl on the roof. His back is pretty bad right now, so some of us have been covering for him. Besides, we would have been known if he was hurt." He motioned to the books on the desk. "What are you doing? Why aren't you out looking for him?"
"Research," Bobby snapped before he could stop himself. "Sam and I been looking for Dean all damn night. I thought I might be able to find a spell to locate the kid." He glared at the angel. "Unless you got a better suggestion?"
Michael frowned. He grabbed one of Bobby's books. After flipping through the pages, he set it open on Bobby's desk. "I'm not allowed to interfere. Good luck with that," he tapped a finger on the open page, "spell. I hope it works."
"I'll have Dean give you a holler when we find him," Bobby promised.
"I'd appreciate that," Michael replied with a nod as he faded from sight.
Bobby read over the spell. There were a few ingredients he didn't have handy, but were probably in the safe. It might wipe out his stash of one that was pretty rare, but if it found Dean, it would be worth it. After Dean was back home, safe and sound, Bobby had to think about having a long talk with Raphael. Michael was working around the rules, something Dean would do. He wondered if Michael had already had it in him, or if it was new. Bobby loved Dean, more than the kid would ever know if he could help it, but an archangel emulating Dean was downright frightening.