"Dr. Hyderson?" Sam directed the question at the black-haired woman in the lab coat. She was tall and slim, her startling light blue eyes framed by gold-wired glasses. She crinkled her nose in frustration, Sam an unwelcome distraction. But then she caught a glimpse of Carol – in her jeans and boots, Queen t-shirt, and bomber jacket – and she put down the pipette she was holding and turned on her stool.
"No, I'm his assistant, Tessa Black." She gave Carol a tentative smile. "He's in his office." She nodded to a door on the other side of the lab; through the opened blinds, they could see a bear-sized man in a red plaid shirt and jeans pacing back and forth. With a nod, Sam headed into the office, leaving Carol to talk to the young tech.
"Excuse me?" Sam tried to wait for an opportune moment to interrupt, but the man was muttering to himself, a constant stream of what sounded like a one-sided conversation. At Sam's words, he jerked to a stop.
"What? Who are you?" A messy red beard and hair that hadn't seen a comb in a few days only made his red rimmed eyes seem even wilder. "You're with them, aren't you?"
Sam made an instant decision; this man wasn't going to respond to well to authority, so F.B.I. or Homeland Security wouldn't be a good choice. "I'm Sam Winchester. I have questions about the werewolf virus you've discovered. It's a matter of life and death."
That got his attention all right – he settled a little and actually looked at Sam. "Life or death?"
"I think there's a werewolf pack here in D. C. and I need all the help I can to stop them. There have been at least four deaths already." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carol, her blonde head bent down towards the dark-haired tech. She was smiling at the other woman, leaning in, elbow resting on the table; she was definitely flirting, body language clearly inviting.
"Those sons of bitches are building an army, that's what they're doing." The scientist was suddenly in motion, moving to his desk and shoving towers of papers and books out of the way to find a small laptop. Then he froze and looked suspiciously at Sam. "Wait. Prove you're not one of them."
Without hesitation, Sam took out his silver knife, rolled up his sleeve, and sliced a shallow cut until red blood oozed. "Look," Sam said, "Anything you can tell us could help."
The doctor sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his hands. "I wish I could tell you how to destroy them, but I can't. Six years and I couldn't even save my own son."
"He was killed?" That would explain the change; Hyderson had once been at the top of his field, but had spiraled downward, losing his position at a prestigious research school and his funding as well. Now, from what Sam could tell, the man cobbled together money from crackpots and a few anonymous donors.
Carol laughed at something; Tessa shifted on her stool and brushed her fingers over Carol's forearm. The look the dark-haired woman gave Carol was smoldering, and Sam suddenly wondered if he'd been reading Carol wrong the whole time. Maybe, she'd just been being friendly, not interested in him at all because she was certainly giving all the signals that she was open to the woman's overtures.
"No. He was bitten. Became one of them." The doctor's voice was rough and filled with pain. "I didn't believe it at first, the rational scientist, not until I saw him change for myself. I worked for three years trying to find a cure for him."
Carol brushed back a dangling strand of black hair, tucking it behind Tessa's ear; the tech's face flushed as Carol continued talking, paying no attention to anything else but her. With a wave of her hand, Tessa turned to her computer; Carol passed her a jump drive, fingers lingering as they touched.
"There is no cure," Sam said, turning back to the doctor. "But the disease could be prevented."
Hyderson nodded. "We've have success in beta testing, but then the funding ran out and who's going to volunteer to be the guinea pig human who gets injected with werewolf virus?"
That got Sam's complete attention. "You have a working vaccine?"
….
"Did you get anything useful from Hyderson?" Carol slid into the passenger seat of the Impala. She been glad when Sam had offered to drive; why take the mundane rental car when she could ride in style? "Tessa was a fount of information."
"Tessa?" Sam backed out of the parking spot, intent on watching traffic. "She seemed … friendly."
"Thinks the doctor is certifiable for believing in werewolves," Carol plugged her jump drive into an ISB port on her tablet. "But she also says the vaccine is real. Gave me the latest data to review."
"Yeah, and I bet she gave you her number too." Sam tried to sound like he was joking, and Carol just shrugged and smiled. As files appeared on her screen, her phone vibrated. "It's Clint," she said as she answered. "Hey …. yeah … we're not far …. Two o'clock it is … Sure." She offered the phone to Sam. "Dean wants to talk to you."
"Dean?" Sam juggled the phone to his ear as he drove, swerving slightly.
"I need you to call Bobby, see what you can find out about Lucas Kaniedes, CEO of Volkien Industries. We need to know his weaknesses." Dean didn't bother with the niceties, just jumped right in. That was so like him, and the words went a long way to soothing any concerns Sam had about his brother's condition. If he was barking orders, Dean was good.
"Glad you're okay." Sam wasn't above goosing his brother; after all, he'd spent some frantic worried hours, so he deserved some payback. "Thanks for looking for me, Sam. Sorry I worried you."
"You should be thanking me for giving you a free shot at the blonde." Dean gave back as good as he got. "Assuming you manned up and took it."
"Uh, not exactly." Sam glanced over at Carol; she was deep in the science of the vaccine, but he was sure she was listening. "How was your evening with Clint?" At that, Carol cut her eyes over, a little smirk at the corner of her mouth.
Dean just ignored the question. "We need to figure out why Crowley, Hera, Artemis, and Kali are in the market for the bowl. And how this Kaniedes fits in the picture." His voice was muffled for a minute, talking to Clint. "We'll see you in a few. If you get there first, order me a beer battered burger. With battered fries."
"A deep fried hamburger? Seriously? What, did you work up an appetite last night?" Sam couldn't resist the last jab.
"Don't wreck my baby because you're talking and driving, dude." Dean hung up, and Sam had to laugh. His brother's non-answer was a big yes to the question.
"I take it Dean's okay?" Carol was trying not to grin too widely, her amusement evident.
"Oh, he's fine." Sam wasn't sure how much Carol knew about his brother and Clint; the sparkle in her eyes said a lot on that matter, though. "Gave me a name – Lucas Kaniedes. I need to make some calls to see what I can dig up."
"Volkien?" All business after hearing the name, Carol went to work pulling up data. "I have a friend who might have some information on Kaniedes. Let me see if I can get in touch with him if he's in country."
Carol had interesting contacts; the police officer yesterday, now some mysterious international person. Sam wondered for a minute exactly what Carol had done before she was Ms. Marvel; he might know all about Iron Man … after all Tony Stark was all over the TV and news … but Carol's past was more of a secret. As Carol gave him directions for the rendezvous with Dean & Clint, Sam took out his phone and called Bobby; what little he knew about the woman sitting next to him would have to wait until later.
"Kaniedes?" Bobby practically shouted in his ear. "You boys don't do things by halves do you? He's the werewolf Alpha, Sam. Probably one of the most powerful monsters around. Ever heard the story of King Lycaon?"
"Wait, he's that guy? The one Zeus cursed?" Sam asked, his brain making quick connections. "Why would he be dealing with Hera or Artemis? He hated the gods."
"That's what scares me. If these guys are getting together, I'd hate to imagine what they're afraid of. Damn," Bobby said. "Look, let me see what I can dig up. I'll get back to you soon as I can."
"Sure thing, Bobby. Thanks," Sam started to hang up, but Bobby caught him.
"Hey, give Dean a break on the whole Clint thing, okay?" Bobby advised. "And do the same for yourself. She was a goddess, boy. Hell, you came out on the good end of the stick if you ask me. You two need to quit overthinking these things and enjoy the moment while you can."
"Yeah, and you know how that usually turns out," Sam thought of all of the people he'd cared for, the ones he'd let into his life, overwhelmed for a moment by a wave of regret. Relationships for him never ended well.
"You're an idjit, you know," Bobby said affectionately. He didn't disagree, Sam noticed, as he said goodbye and dropped the phone on the seat. After Pennsylvania, he was feeling pretty gun shy; full disclosure suddenly seemed like a really good idea before getting in bed with anyone else. Look at Carol; he thought he'd been getting all the right signals only to find out he might not be her type. His woman radar was definitely on the fritz. Maybe celibacy would be a good idea for a while. Especially if Hera and Artemis were around, and Kali? She probably still held them responsible for Baldur and Gabriel's death. Too many goddesses in the mix; best to just zip it up and stay safe.
"Thanks, Jack. I'll be watching for it." Carol was finishing her own conversation. "I'll be careful. You know me." She gave an easy laugh of someone talking to an old friend. Maybe even an old lover. And why would Sam give a damn about that, he wondered, after he'd just decided to put sex off limits for the time being? "Don't worry; I won't be volunteering to take the ring to Mordor. At least not this time." With one last thanks, she ended the call.
"From Jack's gut response, I have the feeling we are in some deep shit," Carol mused. "He's sending some info; you have any luck?"
"Bobby's on it." Sam hoped that Dean could fill in the blanks when they finally met up, and that he could keep his head on straight when it came to any romantic entanglements, especially with a certain blonde.
…
"Dude? You ordered a salad? Really?" Dean asked, incredulous at his brother's choice. "They have the best burgers in the D.C. area and you go veggie?"
"I seem to remember you deciding to be healthier a while back … something about a poker game and clogged arteries?" Sam looked at the burger the waitress was delivering to another table. Who deep fried a burger? And who wanted to eat one? Obviously Dean did.
"I am not going to pass up this one," Dean argued. "Plus, they have fried cheesecake for dessert."
Sam was glad to see his brother in a decent mood, despite the obvious bruises on his body. The short sleeve t-shirt Dean was wearing showed a lot of what had happened to him, from the circles around his wrists to the fingerprint marks on his biceps; Sam could tell from the way Dean gingerly sat in the chair and carefully held himself that there was more than what he could see. Damn wolves had beaten the shit out of him at least once. But he wasn't going to mention it, not unless Dean brought it up; Sam was smarter than that and had learned to let his brother tell him things in his own good time. Well, most of the time he did.
"So, Kaniedes is selling the bowl to the highest bidder," Carol tried to get the conversation back on track; she was tucked into the small booth seat next to Sam, their legs pressed together, seemingly unbothered by the closeness. In fact, she'd slid in next to Sam, leaving Clint and Dean to share the other bench. "But he doesn't have it? How is that going to work?"
Dean and Clint shared a glance, and Sam knew instantly they were hedging. "He's counting on us finding it for him," Clint said.
The waitress arrived to deliver their food. Clint had opted for a jalapeno cheddar burger and Carol had gone for the Smokey Mountain chicken sandwich; aside from the wilted leaf of lettuce on the burgers, Sam was the only one with anything green on his plate.
"And why would we help him out?" Carol asked the obvious question. There was that look again; something was definitely up, and Carol caught it too. "What aren't you tell us?"
"We have 72 hours … well 70 now … to find the bowl, or Dean and I get to grow fangs and do our best Lon Chaney impressions." Clint shrugged as he laid the situation out. "Some sort of time released capsule under the skin. If you ask me, he has no intention of letting us out of it. The man's got a thing about making new family members."
"We'll figure some way out of it," Dean picked up what was obviously an ongoing argument between the two of them.
"If not, we'll deal. Tony can probably work out something to keep us locked down at full-moon; otherwise we're normal, right?" Clint calmly worked on his burger and fries.
"Guys," Carol tried to interrupt, but Dean kept talking over her.
"Not that easy. If someone bitten by a really old were can control their change, imagine what happens if it comes from Kaniedes?" Dean shot back.
"Guys," Carol said, a little louder.
"Stark Industries has the best R & D in the world. I've seen Bruce and Carol come up with solutions in a far shorter time frame; they'll find a way to remove the capsules or cure the virus." Clint reached over and grabbed a fried pickle spear from Dean's plate.
"We'll be monsters, Clint. All the time." Dean's voice was angry, and Sam could imagine his brother's inner turmoil over the situation. He should probably help Carol tell them the news, but he was more interested in watching the dynamics between Dean and Clint, who were arguing like an old married couple. "You don't know what that means."
"Let's see, I work with a man who transforms into a green rage monster, a guy who shrinks and gets bigger, I've fought aliens, been a god's flying monkey … nah, I don't know anything about the strange and supernatural."
"Excuse me," Carol gave it one last try, then looked to Sam for help. He just smiled and let them continue.
"Damnit, Clint, it's not the same thing, and you know it." Dean's chin was set at a stubborn angle; Clint gave him a lopsided smile.
"Oh, come one, we could take over the pack, organize them, and use them to fight bad guys." Clint winked at Sam & Carol, clearly egging Dean on at this point. "Besides, I imagine the sex would be pretty damn kinky."
Dean sputtered and dropped his burger back on his plate, preparing to launch a reply.
"IF you two would stop the foreplay long enough, Carol might be able to get a word in edgewise about the vaccine." Sam forked up another bit of lettuce and popped it in his mouth, letting his words break the growing sexual tension between the two.
"Vaccine?" They both said at the same time; green and blue eyes lasered in on Carol, who adopted Sam's nonchalance, sitting back in the booth.
"Are you sure you want to hear about it, or would just prefer getting a room first?" She asked, taking the time to drag a fry through the puddle of ketchup she'd poured on her plate. Seemed she like fries with her ketchup. "Or we can wait here if you want to use the backseat for a bit."
Dean actually shut up, and he tried to shift away from Clint a little bit; Clint, however, was amused, his eyes sharing some secret joke with Dean. "All right, spill," he laughingly said to Carol.
As they ate, Carol filled the others in on their visit to the lab and the data they'd found. "I've already sent the info on to Bruce; he's looking over the doctor's research right now, but I can tell you, it looks very viable. Animal trials have over an 80% success rate. What we really need is a live sample to work from."
"What are we waiting for?" Dean was suddenly anxious to get going; he crumpled up his napkin. "We can break in the lab and …"
"Actually, I imagine Carol could just make a phone call, and Tessa would give it to her," Sam said; Carol blinked at him, but then she nodded.
"Let me give it a try," She slid off the bench and headed out of the restaurant to make the call. Clint watched her go then caught Sam's eye.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"Oh, Carol made a friend. The cute lab tech slipped her phone number in with the data." Sam answered.
"Really? Carol usually prefers banging heads to talking," Clint said, pensive; the man's blue-green eyes saw too much, Sam thought. Feigning indifference, Sam kept poking at the remains of the salad, eyes down.
"I wouldn't have pegged her as a …" Dean paused, searching for the right word, but he cut off quickly as Carol came back within earshot.
"Sounds great. See you then." Tone light, Carol ended the conversation and tucked her phone away as she sat down.
"Tessa was more than happy to have a cup of coffee in … "she glanced back at her phone "… about an hour. What?" The last was directed at Clint, who was pretty much staring at her from across the table.
"Wait. Are you telling me you didn't hit her or threaten her? I'm supposed to believe you won her over with your wiles?" He narrowed his eyes. "Where is Carol, and what have you done with her?"
"I am quite capable of being charming when I want to be," she protested. "And I do know how to flirt." She looked to Sam for help, but he held up his hands, unwilling to get involved in that discussion.
A chime sounded from Clint's phone; he pulled it out and read the message. "Ah, looks like we've got a lead on some possible locations for the bowl. With that teapot at the murder scene, I set Jarvis to look for museum items or antiques at auction that might be connected to powerful women. Four possible hits in the area here, all involving known power brokers and D.C. families; three more in New York. Coulson says he'll take the NYC folks for us."
"Good. That gives us a starting point." Dean was happier when he had something concrete to do. "You guys take the sexy lab tech and liquor her up. We'll hit the list and see if we can get a lead on Hera's toy. Don't come back without the vaccine."
"Hey, I'm not going to seduce her or anything," Carol protested, but no one was listening; Clint dropped money on the table and stood up while Sam bumped Carol out of the booth so he could leave.
"Yeah, whatever. Sammy's pretty good at waiting in the car." Dean winked at his brother, and Sam punched him in the shoulder to get him to shut up.
"He's just giving you grief," Sam explained to Carol.
"Oh, it is on. I live with Tony Stark and Clint Barton. You don't know what you've started, Deano."
…..
Sam did end up waiting in the car, still shocked that Dean had let them drive off in the Impala; Dean had bought the argument that they couldn't take the truck Clint was driving because Kaniedes probably had it under surveillance and didn't need to know about the possible vaccine. Sam thought it was pretty lame, considering Hyderson had been publishing his findings; he'd bet anything that Kaniedes was perfectly aware of the doctor's research. In fact, it wouldn't surprise Sam if Volkien was even funding it. Keep your enemies close, as the old saying goes.
Seemingly bemused by the whole situation, Carol had taken a few minutes to brush her hair and put on a little lipstick before she headed into the Starbuck's to meet Tessa. There was something endearing about her jitteriness and the slight blush on her face; she stuttered and tried to explain that this was just to get the information, and Sam wondered if Clint's comments at the diner had been right on the mark. Come to think of it, she'd been a little off her game this morning at breakfast as well as yesterday at times. Maybe she was just out of practice at flirting. Well, better now than never to get back in the swing of things.
He could see them at the small iron table by the window as he played with the tablet Carol had passed over to him. Okay, she had really cool tech, nothing like the heavy ancient laptop that he had, the one that froze if he opened too many windows and had porn pop-ups clogging the screen. He touched the screen and moved quickly through the searches. With a tap, he unmuted the sound and watched a short video from the Smithsonian about items in their collection relating to John Adams – nothing about the bowl there – and then another one about Dolly Madison's china. Frustrated, he started looking for an Adams family genealogy and got a long list of genealogy software and websites that claimed to help find your lost family.
"What I need is to find out what happened to Adams' daughters, trace them down to today," he grumbled to the screen.
"May I help you search?" A male voice said.
Juggling the tablet, Sam looked around outside; no one was there. "Excuse me?"
"Mr. Stark has programmed me to help any way possible, Mr. Winchester. What exactly do you wish to locate."
"Um, you're the computer?" Sam managed to ask.
"You may call me Jarvis."
Well, hell. Why not? It wasn't like he hadn't seen weirder things in his life. "All right, Jarvis, what I want is to find the descendants of John and Abigail Adams, sticking with the female line. I'm specifically looking for any of them who went on to be matriarchs of powerful families. Also any hints of family heirlooms or items passed down." He felt silly talking to the screen, but, hey, he was a talking car once, so this wasn't that bad.
"I assume this is in correlation with Agent Barton's earlier search?" Jarvis politely asked. "If so, I can also prepare a cross-reference between the results as I work."
"Sounds good to me." Sam said, when the door opened and Carol got in. She looked at him odd. "Jarvis," he explained, sounding even lame to his own ears. "That was fast."
"She brought the samples with her, pretty eager to get outside validation. Hyderson's thought of as a crazy; if a secondary lab verifies the findings, the scientific community is much more likely to take the work seriously." Carol showed him the three vials she'd tucked into her jacket pocket. "All she wants is some credit."
"And a date?" Sam pointedly asked, and Carol's cheeks reddened, which he found incredibly hot.
"She brought up dinner and a movie tonight; too bad I'm busy washing my hair." Wrapping the vials, Carol carefully tucked them in a carrier.
"Really? You two were cute together," Sam started the car, laying the tablet on the seat between them.
"Wait. You thought I was interested?" Carol turned in her seat. "Um, no. She's not my type. I mean, she's got the wrong equipment for me. "
"Looked pretty cozy to me." Sam got a goofy grin on his face at her admission; despite the fact he'd already declared a moratorium on dating, the knowledge that Carol liked guys made him feel better.
"Damn it, Sam, I am a confident heterosexual, okay?" She put her arm on the back of the seat and leaned towards him. "I like smart guys with six pack abs, long hair, tattoos, a muscle car, and a penchant for plaid."
She closed the distance and kissed him, strong and sure, a brash press of lips against lips, hair cascading down onto Sam's cheek as she tilted her head to a better angle. He caught the tendrils with his fingers, tugging them as he cupped her face with his hand, taking the kiss and returning it, sucking on her lower lip. She pulled away, let out her breath, and sat back on her side of the seat.
"I think that clears things up, don't you?" Carol asked, arousal in her eyes.
"Perfectly." Sam put the car in reverse and pulled out into traffic.
…
She watched them go through the window, the cup cradled in her hands as she drank the last of the wonderful liquid; even tepid, the sweet brown nectar was a revelation amidst the noisiness of this brave new world. Air blew across her calves, so lovely and free beneath the hem of her skirt, and she could smell the spices they used to make the drinks, the pungent odor of pots brewing. Trapped in nothingness for so long with only her burning desire of revenge as company, she wanted to revel in simply being again – being alive, being free, being strong – but there was so much to accomplish. Finally, after all this time, she could do more than imagine the feel of her enemies beneath her hands; soon, their blood would be flowing through her fingers as she turned their own power back upon them. She could enjoy the taste of food again, find a handsome young man – the one behind the counter would certainly do – to slake her lust; she had taken the time to find this body, one able to handle her essence without burning up too quickly. Even the woman herself wasn't aware of her heritage, the power bequeathed by the father she'd never known. Half-god, this Tessa had been a wonderful choice of a vessel to fulfill her goals.
Then the blonde had walked in, blinding aura preceding her, an alien presence so formidable that she almost jumped bodies right there, in full view of everyone. That was a vessel worthy of her triumphant return. And the man in the conveyance, with echoes of potent forces clinging to him apparent even from a distance, was far too fascinating to let slip through her clutches. Like the randomness of chaos, new elements had been introduced, changing the game in her favor. With such temptations dangling before her, she could enjoy the chase; it was, after all, her favorite part. It had been a long time she she'd tasted the bliss of destruction on her tongue, and she was hungry, so very hungry.
Standing, she threw a suggestive smile at the handsome worker; the evening was young, and a little fresh blood was on the menu.