"So the anomaly was a genetic virus?"
Carol balanced the cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she caught her hair back with a barrette, the edges still damp from the shower. Padding barefoot out into the suite, she headed down the hall, hoping the coffeemaker had kicked on like programmed; she needed a hit of caffeine to get going after the late night.
"No, Tony, I really don't think you need …"
Conversation broke off as she came to a stop, her eyes drawn to the man reaching into the cabinet for a glass. Sam had on a low rider pair of well-worn jeans and nothing else, his hair slicked back. Tiny drops of water beaded along his back, tumbling down from the wet tousled ends. With a crack, he opened the top to the orange juice, poured some, and all Carol could do was watch the play of muscles along his well-toned back, the shift of his shoulder blades. Thinking suspended, she simply stared, sure she was making an idiot out of herself, but unable to close her mouth.
"Carol?" Tony's voice was tinny, but clear. Sam heard it and turned, and, damn, the front view was better than the back. The man had a serious six pack, each muscle defined and taut, just crying out for someone to run their fingers into each groove before dipping lower to …
"Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. Just getting some juice. You did say to help yourself." He gave her an easy grin.
Help herself? Oh, yeah, she could help herself. Indeed. Somehow she jerked her eyes away from his amazing pecs, up to his face, and she saw the humor there, the recognition of her reaction. So much for subtlety, she thought.
"Um, yeah, sure, whatever you need." Great. Now she was babbling like a schoolgirl.
"CAROL!" Tony was yelling.
"Yeah, I'm here. Don't shout." She snapped back to him, taking the phone into her hand. Honestly. The man could be so infuriating. If he wasn't so damn smart … and rich … and a nice guy … and a bad ass in the suit … she'd probably still like the son-of-a-bitch.
"Is that one of those Winchester male models?" Tony asked, and Carol could picture his eyebrows rising and that mischievous grin he got when he gave people grief. "Which one is so distracting?"
"There's yogurt in the fridge and some really good granola in the cabinet, locally made. Or order something if you want." She directed that to Sam.
"Why Carol, am I interrupting a morning after breakfast?" Tony's voice was sweet and way too nice.
"Thanks. Sounds good." Sam pulled open the cabinet door she pointed to and took down the bag. "You want a bowl?"
She nodded a yes to Sam's question and mouthed "Tony Stark."
"Why don't you just tell me what the test results said? I've got things to do today and I'd like to get moving on them." She spoke into the phone and as soon as she said it, she knew Tony would jump on that turn of phrase; she felt a flush begin moving up her neck, knowing Sam was listening to her side of the conversation.
"Or is that a certain hottie hunter you're going to do? Bet he can make a move …" Tony was just warming up, she knew.
"Tony. Quit being an ass." What little patience she had was running thin; Tony was never going to let this go. "Test. Results."
"Keep your panties on … you do have them on don't you?" Tony laughed. "I'm sending you the results now along with the names of a couple of scientists down there who are working on genetic anomalies. Might be crackpots, I don't know, but they're publishing on the 'were' gene."
"Were? As in werewolf?"
Sam eyes focused on her with a new intensity when he heard that. "The blood sample?" Sam asked, spooning up a bite of cereal.
"Tony's dug up some specialist on the 'were' gene for us to check out." Here gaze was caught again as Sam leaned his elbows on the counter, jeans dipping down until she could see the dimples in the small of his back. The thought of running her tongue into those indentations popped into her head, and she lost the thread of Tony's conversation in her ear.
"… tomorrow for a day or two. I'll get the adjoining suite unless you want to use the tried and true towel on the door method."
"What? No, Tony, we're fine. We don't need you here. We're investigating right now, no fighting to be done yet. I can call you if we …" Carol tried to forestall Stark.
"Oh, yes, I absolutely have to meet these two. First, Clint, now, you? Hey if they're going to screw around with my team, I get to check them out." Tony interrupted, talking right over her.
"Tony …" she tried to argue, but he would have none of it.
"Tomorrow. Got to meet with the SecNav anyway, so I can kill two birds with one stone. See you then."
And he was gone. Carol shut her eyes, wondering when her life got so messy; a super human team and now a sexy hunter distracting her.
"He's coming?" Sam asked.
"Oh, yeah. He has to stick his nose in. Heaven forbid that Tony Stark isn't at the center of things." She shook her head. "We should check out those scientists first thing, see what they have to say. With any luck, we'll have this figured out just in time to let him do the heavy lifting. Let me grab my tablet and we'll see what info he sent." She went back into her room to get the small computer; thinking about changing from her old gym shorts and USAF t-shirt – maybe putting on a bra at least – she finally shrugged and decided to let it go. After all, Sam had already seen her like this. As she came back into the kitchen, she grabbed two cups, pouring the coffee and passing one to Sam, leaving the sugar and creamer on the counter. Sitting down, she took the extra bowl he'd poured and added some milk, dipping her spoon in.
"Here's the data." She looked over the data that skimmed across the screen. "Viral DNA? A lot of similarities to the variola virus, but look at the genomes affected. Primal survival behaviors. Never seen one that fast acting though."
"Like chicken pox, but the werewolf version?" Carol was surprised Sam made the connection so quickly.
"Exactly. A virus, once introduced into the body, replicates its own DNA. Scientists recently discovered that there are a lot more of these viruses in human DNA than we knew."
"But there's not cure for viruses, right?" A shadow crossed Sam's face, and he took his bowl over to the sink, turning his back on Carol. Something was there, and Carol didn't' have to be psychic to read his change of emotions.
"No. Once a person has it, it's always in their system. But prevention? With this information, we could synthesize a preventative shot. The anti-werewolf vaccine." She couldn't imagine selling that to pediatricians. "Pretty damn complex, but between Bruce and me, I think we can figure it out."
"We should get going," Sam headed back to his bedroom, face closed off, body stiff. "I'll be ready in five."
She watched him go, wondering what she was missing; whoever had compiled that SHIELD file had obviously done a shitty job. Sam Winchester was even more an enigma to her that when she first met him.
….
Shoes and shirt would be nice, Dean thought, but he was happy that he had his jeans back on this morning; thankfully the men were too caught up in their discussion to notice that Clint left the handcuffs loose enough for him to slip out. He took the chance to look them over, the top men of the D. C. pack. One was young, maybe 24, brown hair cut short in the back with long bangs that hung over his forehead, one of those trendy haircuts you'd see on pop singers; he was lean like a runner with an infectious smile that belied a real violent streak, his arms marked with scars and old wounds, nose crooked from at least one bad break. The second was middle-aged, khaki pants and checked button down, glasses perched on his nose. Of the three he was the quietest, rubbing absently along his receding hairline. The final man had the look of a soldier; camouflage pants, black t-shirt stretching across his developed chest and arms, buzz cut and combat boots, he was the biggest of the three. From the minute they'd been called into the conference room, he knew something was wrong; after they entered, the tense discussion had stopped, but not the jockeying and glaring at each other.
"When did he say he'd be here?" Boy Band alpha asked; he was texting, his tennis shoes up on the table, feet crossed. So far, he'd been passive aggressive, pitting the other two against each other and sitting back to enjoy the results.
"Fifteen minutes ago." Camo alpha wasn't happy at all; he was futzing with a pen, clicking it, twirling it and tapping it on the table. Patience wasn't his long suite, Dean decided. "I'm not his fucking beta to dance at his whim. Who the hell does he think he is, keeping us waiting, calling us to heel?"
"You'd best not let him hear you say that." Balding alpha's voice was the calmest. He spoke as if he was lecturing students; too-mild mannered, he set off all of Dean's instincts. "He can eat you for breakfast."
"I've been around for too long to be scared of an ancient moldy Alpha would can't be bothered to leave his cave for centuries at a time." Camo alpha sneered. Dumbass, Dean thought, and that was sure to get him killed with this crowd.
"Age is relative, isn't it?" Boy band alpha smiled, showing his elongated canines; Dean knew that really old weres could change on command, not needing the full moon, which was still a week away. Okay, maybe the kid was the scariest of the batch.
"I'll show you age, punk." Slamming his chair back, Camo alpha stood, flexing his muscles and baring his teeth.
"Big hero with big muscles. Massive anger management issues." Boy Band stayed seated, looking cool and casual.
"Get up. Or are you too scared to go a round with me?" Camo growled, eyes changing. Dean shifted his stance, ready to react.
"Stop it," Baldy stood, voice angry. "This is neither the time nor place …."
"Shut the hell up for once," Camo loomed over Baldy, and waves of tension rolled off of him.
"Well, this doesn't bode well for our conversation today." The new voice spoke from his place in the doorway, and Dean turned.
Dark curly hair, trimmed goatee and olive skinned, the man was wore a very expensive suit, the kind that was made by personal tailors on Fleet Street for absurd amounts of money. He wore the blue pinstripes and red power tie with ease, a man accustomed to luxury.
"Sir, sorry sir." Camo alpha immediately sat back down, bending his head and revealing his neck. Baldy did the same, without words, but Boy Band sat still, face a sullen mask.
"Randolph. I see you haven't changed much. Still angry about Amsterdam?" He moved with a feral kind of grace, an animal's stride with just a hint of humanity. Dean had met the Vampire Alpha, and he knew instantly this was the Werewolf Alpha, deadly and powerful.
Stalking to the table, the Alpha kicked the upended chair legs from under Randolph, who sprang up and stared, still unwilling to bow before the stronger man.
"Silas," the Alpha spoke to the balding man. "Please go and welcome our guests. Bring them here and make sure no one bothers them. You have my permission to kill anyone who so much as blinks wrong."
Keeping his head and shoulders folded over in a bow, Silas's eyes never met the Alpha's as he exited the room.
"Gerald, you are dismissed. And do not make the mistake of challenging me. I will rip your throat out if you ever speak of yourself in that way again."
Chastised, Gerald left as well, but his shoulders were hard set, tense and clenched; Dean knew that the big man was not cowed by today's events.
"Last chance, Randolph." The threat caused chills to roll down Dean's spine; he had no doubt that the young alpha was in serious danger. "Just because I made you doesn't give you any special privilege. You forget your place."
"I'm your favorite son, father." The charming smile was bright and sure. "You'll never hurt …."
Claws ripped through his throat before he could finish his sentence, blood spurting from arterial spray; some splattered onto Dean's chest as shock flashed into the young man's eyes seconds before he folded down to the floor, red puddling around his dying body.
"I've eaten better sons that you, cocky bastard." Taking the time to lick his fingers, cleaning off the gore and blood, the Alpha adjusted his coat, seemingly oblivious to the stains soaking into the fine material. His blue eyes fell on Dean and Clint, the only two people left in the room. "Now, let's get ready for our visitors, shall we?"
"Look, dude, I don't know about you, but I'm not really dressed for a party. Maybe later?" Dean's mouth ran without thinking; he'd faced down gods and the devil himself, so what was an old werewolf in the grand scheme of things? Besides, mouthing off was a requirement for him.
"Dean Winchester." He gave a gravely laugh. "I have a feeling that you and I are going to get along famously. Anyone who ganks gods with regularity already has my admiration. Can't stand the sons of bitches."
"Ummm, thanks. I think." Dean shrugged.
Stepping in front of Clint, the Alpha looked him over from head to toe. "Clinton Barton, aka Hawkeye. Pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand; Clint shook it firmly. "Lucas Kaniedes."
"CEO of Volken Industries. Nice suit." Sassy Clint. Yeah, Dean liked Sassy Clint.
"I assume you're responsible for the tech problems they're having here? Some new Stark prototype, of course. Tony always did have the neatest toys." Kaniedes walked around the table.
"So, is this the time where you let us in on your plan to kill us in an overly complicated, but easily escapable trap?" Dean asked.
"Austin Powers? Good choice." Clint grinned at him.
"Now, boys, settle down, and be on your best behavior. I'd hate to have to serve you up for h'orderves."
The door opened, four people came in, and Dean's blood pressure shot up. Things just went from bad to worse.
"Ah, Kaniedes! You decorated for us." Crowley looked at the dead body, blood droplets painting the walls and table, and then he saw Dean and Clint. "Heckle, but no Jeckle? Where's the moose? And look, you brought your boy toy! Well, well, this is going to be a real party."
"Crowley." Dean made the man's name sound like a curse.
"Those are some lovely bruises you're got there, sport. Our favorite archer's got a kink, huh?"
"Give it a rest, demon," Hera said in her low purr of a voice. "Everyone needs a few love bites now and then. I know I certainly wouldn't mind a few marks from these two."
"As sexually frustrated as ever, eh? No wonder hubby likes passive little mice." Crowley shot back.
"Can we get to business? I have places to be, things to destroy." Kali took the chair Kaniedes pulled out for her, letting him slide it back in. "Dean." She nodded to him.
"I take it you've pissed off everyone in this room?" Clint asked.
"Nope. Never met her." Dean nodded to the blonde standing just inside the door, arms linked across her chest, an angry scowl on her beautiful face. She was built like a gymnast, toned muscular body in brown leather pants and green bustier. Seriously hot, a woman with curves, Dean was pretty damn sure she was going to be trouble.
"I have no time for this." Ire colored her words as she tapped a foot impatiently. "This is mother's problem, not mine. She's the one who has lost her bowl …. And her marbles."
"Artie, stop that. Don't be such a royal bitch for ten minutes." Hera settled herself on the edge of the table, long legs crossing. Crowley and Kaniedes took the time to look. "Sex would take the edge off, darling. Frustration is not good for the soul."
"Mother," Artemis sighed. "Enough with the sex talk. I'm here, aren't I?"
"The huntress is right," Kaniedes said. "We should get to business. I asked you here because it's time to hit this problem head on. I'm taking more control of my wolves; they should have never gotten involved in this in the first place, and I will stop that. Ariadne is doing the same with her people, or trying to. I doubt she has much luck, given her lack of trust and anger management issues."
"That's well and good, but not my problem." Crowley seemed less than interested.
"It will be all of our problems if this consolidation of power continues. We know gods and other powerful beings are disappearing, items are dropping off the grid." Kaniedes grinned towards Dean and Clint. "Our human friends over here are partially responsible for some of that, but I think it's more than the apocalypse and alien invasions. Someone is taking advantage of the upheaval; the Brotherhood of the Moon has been defunct for centuries, and suddenly now it's active again."
"The Brotherhood isn't just defunct; father wiped it off the face of the Earth. Literally." Despite her good looks, Artemis was on the verge of whining. Not attractive. "They aren't a threat any longer."
"Obviously, Zeus was a little premature. So like him." Hera rolled her eyes. "The Brotherhood are the original religious zealots; they worshipped the moon itself to begin with, but changed over the years, even worshipping us for a while. If they are back, they won't be stopped until they're all dead or they reach their goal. Lycanos is right. We need to deal with this."
"The problem is Zeus, as usual in his infinite stupidity, only created more problems when he tried to get rid of them. They went underground and found something or someone new to worship," Kaniedes explained. "They've been gathering power the whole time, and now they're making their move to sweep up the rest. The best thing for us to do is find these items and ensure they stay within the existing power structure. That's why I asked you here. I'm willing to sell the bowl to the highest bidder, one of you. At least then I know it's not going to fuel some unknown threat."
"You expect me to believe you'd get in bed with a god? I know how much you loathe Zeus." Artemis challenged.
"Obviously not bed, Miss Virgin-until-death," Crowley sarcastically commented. "Problem is, it's a nice plan, but I happen to know he doesn't have the bowl. None of us do at the moment."
"And we should trust you?" Hera said. "You're the King of Hell; double crossing is your specialty."
"Enough." Kali spoke, anger evident. She rose gracefully. "This is a waste of time."
"Wait!" Kaniedes growled and everyone looked at him as he walked over to Dean and Clint. With an impossibly tight grip, his hand circled Clint's elbow as his other hand pressed against his skin.
"What the hell?" Clint jumped and Dean could hear the hiss of compressed air. He started to take a swing his cuffed hands at the Alpha, but the man caught his arm easily and a sharp stinging pain lanced up his elbow and to his shoulder. As the Alpha pulled away, Dean looked at the red welt growing just above his wrist; the spot ached and a bump was obvious already.
"Nice thing about having money, as your friend Stark knows, is that you can get almost anything done by tossing enough of it around. I have just injected you with a time released capsule; in a few days, 72 hours to be exact, the outer skin will dissolve and the virus that carries the wolf genes will work its way into your system. You will be one of mine." He actually patted Clint on the cheek, some strange paternal urge at work. "If you find that bowl and return it to me before that time, I'll remove the capsule. No harm, no foul. Although, I have to say, I find myself hoping you aren't successful; I haven't been this excited about new sons in quite a few centuries."
"Son of a bitch." Dean spat the curse at him. "I'll kill you myself."
"Yes, you will make a wonderful addition to the family!" Kaniedes' smile got even wider. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I assume you are all aware of the success rate of these two, so I think I'll set the price at 8 million to start. I'll give you some time to think about your bid, say 24 hours?"
"I have no desire to be part of this." Artemis declared. "Men are useless. My warriors can find my bow easily enough, and I will keep it for myself. Personally, I don't care what happens to mother's bowl." Turning, she stormed out of the room.
"Good lord, what a drama queen," Clint muttered to Dean; Hera cocked her head and winked at that.
"You'll be hearing from me soon, Lycanos," she said as she slid off the table, somehow making the simple act of standing up sexual foreplay. Of course, she made sure to run her hand over Dean's chest, pressing lightly on the finger shaped bruises near the waistband of his jeans before grinning wickedly at Clint. "Remember my offer, boys. There are things I can do for you … to you." With a wink to both, she left the room.
"Good lord, she could give a succubus lessons." Crowley said as he watched her go. "If he weren't such a sanctimonious bastard, I might feel sorry of Zeusy boy. But I don't." Without a further word, he was gone, disappeared from the room.
Kali had been still the whole time, her face impassive and set in a neutral expression. Now she nodded to Kaniedes and came to Dean, looking him in the eyes. "I hear that Samedi is looking for you boys. Something about a debt to pay?"
It clicked then, the reason why Kali would even be here, be interested in Hera's bowl. Bridgette had used the power of Hecate's pin to bring her lover Samedi back from purgatory; Kali had lost her lover, Baldur, the same night, when Lucifer had played god bowling at the Hotel Elysian Fields.
"Well, he can just get in line." Dean couldn't tell what the goddess of destruction was thinking, how she felt about the fact that he and Sam had saved her life that night. "There are a lot of people ahead of him."
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, the only sign of any emotion. "I'll be in touch," she said, and then she too was gone, leaving them alone with Kaniedes.
"Those guys out there are just going to let us go?" Clint raised the question Dean was thinking. "They'll know we're onto them."
"They will do whatever I tell them to do, or they'll be dead. Sometimes, it's good to be the Alpha." Showing his razor-sharp teeth, Kaniedes headed for the door. "You can get your things and go. Don't worry; I'll find you."
For a second, they stood still, processing what had just happened; Dean took off the handcuffs, tucking them in his pocket, and rubbed the bump on his arm. Then he cocked his head to one side and looked at Clint.
"Hawkeye?"
Clint nodded, confused by the question.
"Stark? As in Tony Stark? As in Iron Man?"
Another nod.
"You're a fucking Avenger?"
"It's not a secret, Dean. Heliocopter, SHEILD …." Clint was grinning at him, and he felt like the world's biggest ass for not figuring it out. What the hell, he thought. He had a werewolf virus in his arm, he'd been the main attraction for last night's floor show, and he never realized Clint was a freakin' superhero.
"Well, damn. And I gave Sam grief for sleeping with a goddess. He's never going to let me forget it."