So here is chapter sixteen. This one took me a long time, mostly because it was so complicated for me to write. I've never had come up with my own hunt before and I'm trying to get in all the plot points I need for my last few chapters. I hope you enjoy it and please review; I'd love to know if it makes any sense.
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"I'm telling you Sam, he's our guy." Dean muttered once more as he unlocked the door to their motel room.
They'd been having the same argument since they'd finished their interview of Ranger Manson. Even when picking up the victims medical records at the local Sheriff's office Dean hadn't let it drop.
"Yeah one problem Dean, our 'guy' is supposed a lion with the head of man and a giant stinger sticking out of its ass. Now I may have missed it, but Ranger Manson looked pretty human to me." Sam pointed out with a sigh.
Dean huffed and sat down in one of the rickety chairs next to what passed for a dining room table. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and shrugged.
"Well maybe it can change its form? It wouldn't be the first monster we've come across that can. Maybe that's how it's survived this long?"
"And maybe it vomits glitter and sings show tunes? Who knows, the lore is hazy at best. What I do know is that we can't going killing a man simply because you get bad vibes from him!"
"Oh come on Sam! You can't tell me you didn't see it?" Dean pushed. "That man is perfect, like ridiculously perfect, like so perfect he shouldn't exist. Nobody is that good looking! He looks like he just walked out of a fucking magazine!"
Sam looked at him like he'd gone mad for a second before understanding sparked in his eyes and his lips curved into a soft smile.
"I get it. This is because you were attracted to him and it's freaking you out. Just because you're with Crowley, it's not a bad thing if you're attracted to other people." Sam promised him soothingly, voice dripping with his best comforting tone.
Dean stared at him blankly for a few seconds, blinking slowly before irritation began radiating off him in waves. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Dean it's al…"
"Fuck you Sam! I know how to keep the job separate from my private life! And I am telling you, Ranger Manson isn't human."
Sam sighed heavily and Dean noticed happily he looked more than a little chastised. Sam sat down at the end of the bed, lifting his hands in surrender. "Alright. What's your theory?"
Dean stood up and picked the medical files off the kitchen counter before handing them to Sam.
"I was reading them in the car. There are no defensive marks on their bodies, no sign any of them fought back. One woman was found barely a hundred feet from a campsite of ten families and no one heard her scream. And where they were staying there are no signs of a struggle."
"What are you saying Dean?" Sam asked as he flipped through the five medical files, grimacing at the horrific pictures that greeted him.
"I'm saying he doesn't take them by force. His victims go with him willingly."
"But he uses his venom to paralyze them. Why do that if he can control them?" Sam wanted to know, reading the toxicology reports on the victims.
"He reverts back to his natural form to kill them. Once they see what he really is, their adrenaline shoots through the roof; survival instincts kick in and overpowers whatever spell he has them under."
"It makes sense Dean, it does. But non of this." Sam waved the medical flies in the air. "Points to Ranger Manson."
"You didn't feel what I felt in that room Sam. When he looked at me, it was overwhelming. It wasn't just everyday attraction, it was complete and utter devotion." Dean admitted, the memory of it making him shiver.
He hadn't realised at the time just how strong the feeling had been, it was only afterward when his head had cleared that he could think back and shiver in horror at how little control he'd really had.
Dean could see Sam hesitating, shifting as he tried to come up with a decision but Dean wasn't worried, he knew he'd won.
"Alright. I trust your instincts but we still need more proof. We need to be sure beyond a shadow of doubt because if we kill Ranger Manson and he's not the Manticore, we've blown it. The real Manticore will go into hiding for another two hundred years and then we're fucked."
Dean wanted to argue and suggest they just stab Range Manson in the throat but he knew Sam was right. They didn't even know how to kill a Manticore and it never hurt to a hundred percent sure you were stabbing the thing you were supposed to.
"Fine but I'll go. You stay here and give Bobby a call." Dean muttered, pulling his jacket back on with a sigh.
"Why do I have to stay here? Not the smartest idea to be alone with Mr Mcdate rape." Sam pointed out.
Dean shrugged and shoved his car keys in his pocket. "Someone has to figure how to kill it other wise all this is useless. And besides, it's seven o'clock. His office will be empty."
Sam sighed but knew it was useless to argue, besides Dean had a point, they didn't have a lot of time to wrap this up. They needed to get this done and it would be quicker if they split up.
"Fine. But ring me when you get there."
"Awwww, you worried about be Sammy?" Dean teased.
"I'm worried about what Crowley would do to me if something happened to you." Sam answered with a dry smile. Crowley may be a bastard but he was a scary bastard.
Dean snorted but he wondered what Crowley would do to Sam if anything happened to him. Or what he'd do to anyone who actually hurt him. Nothing pleasant, he knew that much.
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Dean arrived at the ranger office and looked out of the car window uncomfortably. The forest was especially creepy at night and it made him shiver. Shaking his head and cursing himself for acting like a scared teenage girl, Dean stepped out of the car and headed towards the building. When he reached the door he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his lock picking kit. As he picked the lock he began to wonder exactly what it was about the place that set him on edge. There was just something about the office he didn't like.
Inside was exactly like every other he'd ever been in, the entire office smelled vaguely of dirt and there was a large stuffed bear standing by the front door. Dean wondered if the bear had been killed by one of the rangers or if there was some wholesale warehouse you could buy them from he didn't know about. There was a check in desk on the left and behind it a door that led to what looked to be a staff room.
He had walked past the desk when he froze and backtracked. Turning to face the desk he frowned and swiped his finger across the top of the computer. His finger cut a clean line through a thick layer of dust. Upon further inspection he saw the entire desk was covered in dust. The penholder, the chair and the computer. Nothing had been cleaned in a very long time. The uncomfortable feeling in his stomach started again and his gut told him no one but the Manticore had been in this office for a while.
A check of the staff confirmed his suspicions. The fridge was empty, every file and draw completely bare. No wonder no one had ever raised concerns about the place; there was no one to complain, the Manticore had turned the entire national forest into its own private buffet table. That realization made the place impossibly creeper and not the first time; Dean wished he really didn't have to be there.
Deciding to get this over and done with he headed to Ranger Manson's office. He half expected to see Ranger Manson waiting for him and let out a sigh of relief when the office was empty. Heading over to the desk he stumbled over something and had to catch his balance against the desk. Swearing loudly he bent down to pick up the offending item. It was something roughly thirty centimeters in length. It was black and surprisingly flexible.
"Well I've never seen a Manticore spike before but if I had to guess I'd this is exactly what one would look like." Dean muttered to himself. Smiling smugly he flicked the tip of spike and causing it to spring back and forth. What he wasn't expecting was a small amount of thick, yellow liquid to ooze out of the tip. "It's my lucky day."
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"Right. Let's get this show on the road." Crowley said as he tucked the tin in his suit pocket. "If you leave tonight, you'll be home in two days."
"What are you taking about? We still have a Manticore to deal with."
Crowley froze and turned to face him. Sam eyes widened as he sensed the atmosphere shift in the room. His gaze flicked between Dean and Crowley as he backed away and did his best to blend in the with wall.
"We have the venom, the job is done." Crowley growled out.
Dean blinked at Crowley's answer and shook his head.
"No it's not! That Manticore is killing people, innocent people and I can stop it."
"No one is innocent Dean."
"So they deserve to be torn to shreds? I can't just walk away, not while there's a Job to be done!" Dean answered, his voice rising to a shout.
"Send another hunter! This isn't your job!"
"Yes it is."
"Why? Why is it your job? Why does it always fucking have to be you?"
Crowley was shouting now too and it was making Sam feel very awkward. This was private and he shouldn't be here but he didn't want to leave and draw attention to himself, as they both seemed to have forgotten he existed.
"Someone has to!" Dean had to grit his teeth to stop from outright screaming.
Crowley paused for a moment before narrowing his eyes at Dean. "Bullshit! This your 'save the world so you don't feel guilty' shit!
"I'm a hunter! It's who I am!"
Silence echoed through the room and somewhere in his anger clouded mind Dean realized he was very close to saying something he couldn't take back, something he'd regret.
"No Dean, you used to be a hunter. You gave it up. Or have you forgotten?" Crowley had stopped shouting but anger was still dripping from every word he spoke. "You gave it up for me."
"Well maybe that was a mistake." he growled out before he could stop it.
Dean could almost see Crowley's eyes harden and the last rational part of his mind was screaming at him to take it back.
"Maybe it was." Crowley admitted quietly. "Fine. Do whatever you want, you always do anyway. You wanna get yourself killed? Be my guest. It's not like you're irreplaceable or anything."
Before Dean could answer, Crowley was gone. Dean could only stare at the place the demon had stood seconds before and try to calculate exactly how much damage his words had done. A lot judging by the icy look in Crowley's eyes. He hadn't looked at him like that since the first time they'd met.
"What did Bobby say?" he asked Sam eventually.
Sam was looking at him sadly and it took him a moment to answer. "Are you alright?"
That was most defiantly the last question Dean wanted to answer.
"How do we kill the Manticore Sam?" he asked more forcefully.
Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, knowing better than to push. "Knife coated in the blood of one its victims. Through the heart."
"Isn't it always?" Dean snorted bitterly.
He picked up his keys and pulled on his jacket roughly. "You can deal with it. I'm going out."
"Deal with it? How the fuck am I supposed to deal with it?" Sam yelled.
"Get the blood, its not hard Sam.," he growled, trying hard not to take his lingering anger out on Sam. "there's half a dozen victims in the morgue."
Dean moved towards the door, hoping to get out before he exploded and had a go at Sam.
"Do you not understand the concept of 'bleeding out?' there's no blood left."
"Just fucking figure it out Sam!" he yelled as he slammed the door behind him.
Sam started sullenly at the door before rolling his eyes and sighing heavily. "Just figure it out. How hard can it be? Not the fist time I've broken into a morgue." he muttered to himself as he pulled his own jacket on. He was about to leave when he remembered Dean had taken the car keys. "Fucking hell!"
…
Despite his intention to drive around until he no longer had the urge to punch the first person that looked at him funny, Dean found himself falling back into hold habits and pulled into the first bar he came across.
It wasn't as run down as it had originally appeared from the road and judging from the empty parking lot, there weren't a lot of people out that night; something dean was glad of because the last thing he wanted to do was deal with people.
Walking into the old wooden building he made a beeline for the bar and was thankful to see the pale was empty. Sliding onto a stool he gestured for a bartender. The bartender was a young woman with red hair and two years ago Dean would have been very drawn to her low cut top and low riding jeans but at that moment all he wanted was a beer.
"What can I get for you honey?"
"Beer thanks." he grunted, smiling tightly. It wasn't her fault he was in a crappy mood.
"Any particular kind?"
"A cold one."
A moment passed before there was a crisp crack and a bottle was placed in front of him. Reaching out he took a sip before putting it back down and staring at it sullenly.
"Girlfriend troubles?"
Dean shook his head softly and traced the rim of the bottleneck absently. "Something like that. How'd you know?"
The woman shrugged and wiped the table in front of him with a less than clean cloth. "Comes with the territory. Wanna talk about it?"
"My umm…my boyfriend doesn't approve of what I do for a living." Dean answered, not taking his eyes off the bottle of beer.
The bartender didn't miss a beat at his mention of a boyfriend and smiled down at him sympathetically. "What do you do for a living?"
Dean opened his mouth to answer but the words caught in his throat. It took a moment before he realised why. "I don't know." He answered truthfully.
"How can you not know?" she asked confused. She cocked her head to one side and Dean had to admit, she was beautiful.
"I thought I did. I wasn't always a mechanic, I gave up my job for my boyfriend and everything was fine. We were happy. But recently I've been having some…family issues and it's uncovered a part of me I thought I'd left behind." He explained, trying to reveal too much but still feeling better for getting it off his chest, even if it was to a stranger. "This is the first argument we've ever had and I have absolutely no idea what to do now."
"Maybe that's the problem? You're trying to force yourself to be something you're not and whether your intentions are noble or not, it's tearing you apart. People say you can change who you are, I don't believe that. Maybe you can change the outside, even the first few layers if you really try but deep down? Right in your core? You are you are."
The words hit Dean like a fist to the stomach and made him feel even worse than he had ten minutes ago. Was that really his problem? Had he just been acting for the past year and half? Acting at being normal, acting at being happy? Everything was so much harder now that Sam was back. It had been easy to put aside Dean the hunter when Sam had died but now his brother back and it was getting harder and harder to ignore that part of himself.
"So I think you need to decided Dean Winchester, are you a mechanic or a hunter?"
Those words made his stomach clench for another reason and his head whipped up to comfort the woman who somehow knew who he was. The bar was empty, the woman gone and leaving nothing behind but a bad taste in his mouth. A door to the left of the bar opened and Dean jumped off the bar stool, reaching for the gun he hadn't carried with him in over a year. The man who walked out looked just as startled to see Dean as Dean was to him.
"How did you get in? Bar's closed mate." the man said with a certain degree of aggression.
"The door was open." Dean answered slowly, "Who was the woman who was here?"
"What woman?"
"The bartender. Red hair, green eyes."
"This is my bar, I'm the only one who works here."
The man was looking at him like he was thirty seconds away from a mental breakdown and maybe he was, he certainly felt like it.
"Right. My mistake. Sorry." he muttered as he pulled out his wallet and threw some money down on the bar.
He left the bar with his stomach twisting and his head swimming. He had no idea who the woman had been, in fact he had a strong feeling it hadn't been a woman at all. A brief thought of it being the Manticore flashed through his mind but he pushed it aside, their was no lore to suggest Manticore could turn into women and even if they could, it wouldn't have let Dean leave the bar alive knowing he was a hunter.
No, this was completely different shit to the shit he was already dealing with. So with a deep sigh he pushed the chilling encounter to the back of his mind, adding it to the ever-increasing pile of 'shit to deal with later.'
The ringing of his phone made him startle violently on his way back to the car and after swearing loudly he pulled the phone from his pocket.
"What?" he muttered gruffly, feeling silly for his reaction.
"If you're not too drunk, come back to the motel." Sam's tired voice drifted through the phone and Dean felt a little guilty for snapping at him earlier.
"What makes you think I've been drinking?"
"You and dad have more in common than you like to admit."
Dean tried to tell himself Sam's words didn't sting as much as they did.
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By the time he arrived at the motel room, Sam was standing in the parking lot waiting for him and sporting the most impressive bitch face Dean had seen yet.
"Did you get the blood?"
"Would I have called you otherwise?" Sam bitched, pulling a face.
"Sam, on some days I almost find your bitchiness endearing, almost. But ya know what? Today is not even close to being one of those days." Dean answered drily.
Sam rolled his eyes but didn't argue but kept his mouth shut, something Dean was thankful for.
"So. Let's try again without the attitude. Did you get the blood?" Dean repeated.
Sam pulled a knife from his back pocket and flashed the blade in the light of the streetlight, dry blood staining the blade.
"I found a relatively intact arm from the last victim. There was squeezing involved... I don't really want to talk about it." Sam muttered, screwing his face up at the memory.
Dean blanched at Sam's words and scrunched his nose. "Eww."
"Big time. So what now?"
"Any idea how to lure a Manticore?"
"He seemed to take a shine to you." Sam suggested with a shrug.
"Bait him? Make him think his voodoo mind powers worked?" Dean guessed, getting Sam's hint.
"Do you think you can resist him?" Sam asked.
Dean hesitated for a moment. Could he? He did the first time but he had a feeling the Manticore hadn't really been trying that time.
"I can do it."
Even to his own ears that sounded more like a reassurance than a promise.
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Dean's boots crunched across the dry leaves of the forest floor. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he shivered violently in the freezing night air. Ranger Manson had been contacted easily enough, all it had taken was a well-phrased email to Ranger Manson's private email address, conveniently found on the Gila National Forest website. So now Dean was waiting in the middle of a forest that gave him the creeps waiting to meet up with the date rapist from Hell.
"You came."
The impossibly smooth voice made Dean jump and he spun around to face Ranger Manson. The nervous that had been thrumming through him all night disappeared at the sight of Ranger Manson. It should have been impossible but the man was even more good looking at night, the glow of the moon making him shine.
"Of course. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." He whispered in answer.
No. Manson is the Manticore. A killer.
"I've been thinking about you too…"
"Dean." He answered the unasked question.
He's a killer. Dean, Fight it.
"Dean. What a wonderful name." the man's voice was like butter and it washed over Dean.
He felt his heart stutter at the complement and he was beginning to feel light headed. God the man was gorgeous.
Manson stepped closer until they were inches apart. Dean's mind went completely blank as he inhaled Manson's musky scent and his head spun pleasantly. This man was wonderful, how had he ever thought otherwise. A hand reached up, cupping his face softly and Dean pushed into the touch. He shivered in desire as piercing blue eyes bore into him, causing him to pant.
"Do you want me Dean? I want you." Manson whispered, his breath ghosting across Dean's face.
Their bodies pressed together and Dean found himself arching his body into the touch. Lust pooled in his stomach and his body burned in want. He reached up and dug his fingers into Manson's hair.
"I want you. I want you so much. Please." Dean wasn't sure what he was begging for, but he knew whatever it was; he needed it.
Manson backed him up against the nearest tree, crushing their bodies together and making Dean gasp desperately. He hooked his leg around Manson's waist and rocked his hips, trying to relive some of the pressure in his cock. Manson kissed down the expanse of his neck, biting at the tender skin. When he pulled away Dean raised his left hand and rubbed a thumb across Manson's lips. He blinked when a flash came from his finger, the light from moon hitting something and catching his eye.
Doesn't matter. Manson is only thing that matters.
It happened again and this time something was creeping into the back of mind. Something wasn't right.
He blinked heavily and focused his attention to where the flashing was coming from.
A ring? Why do I have ring? Why is it important?
"Look at me Dean. Just you and me."
His head was swimming but this time it was making him feel sick. He didn't want to look at Manson. There was something important about that ring. It signified something important, something so important. What was it?
Crowley. Oh god, Crowley.
Dean felt like throwing up. What had he done? Manson was still pressed against him and it made him feel sick to his stomach. His skin was crawling with disgust. Towards himself or Manson he wasn't sure.
Both. Definitely both.
Manson reached for is face and he flinched away. Manson froze and frowned at Dean, taken by surprise by the rejection.
"What's wrong Dean?"
The voice that moments ago made his knees weak with desire now made bile rise in his throat. Dean plastered on a fake smile and reached a hand around to the back of his jeans, grabbing the hilt of his knife.
"I'm taken Manson. He may be a sadistic bastard but he's my sadistic bastard. I wouldn't change him for anything. So he may not be tall and tan, with eyes bluer than the sky but that's alright and you know why?"
"Why?" Manson asked, his mouth twisting into a nasty sneer.
"I prefer red eyes."
Dean swung the knife forward, slicing through skin and muscle tissue into Manson's stomach. Normally it wouldn't have been a kill shot but Dean was hoping it wouldn't have to be, the blood and knife would do its job.
It did.
Manson slumped against him, mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes flashed and yellow blood poured from his mouth, he jerked against Dean before slumping to the ground. Dean stared in horror as Ranger Manson disappeared and he saw he true form of a Manticore for the first time.
It was massive, and laying spread out dead on the ground Dean was surprised to see it still had blue eyes. He slumped against the tree and slid to the ground. He could still feel the hickeys Manson had sucked onto his neck and that thought made him vomit uncontrollably on the ground next to him. He was still dry heaving when Sam appeared through the trees running towards him, worry written across every inch of his face. Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Sam accusingly.
"What took so long?" he muttered, voice rough from vomiting.
"You said to keep back!" Sam reminded him loudly.
Dean wanted to argue but all he could think about was Crowley and what he'd done. He was horrified when tears began to flow freely down his checks but he couldn't stop and when Sam pulled him into a hug he cried harder, while Sam pretended not to feel the Dean's tears wetting his neck.
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Well there it is, hoped you enjoyed it.