Sam pulled the Impala into the driveway of my house. He sat in the car for a moment, silent and still.
"I'm sorry, Lucy." He said, breaking his quiet tension. I looked at him, taken aback. I hadn't expected an apology from either of the hunters.
"It's… fine." I sighed. "I can see the reasoning behind keeping me away from the crime scene. I just don't like it." Sam nodded, but didn't say anything. His head sagged a little bit, and he was fiddling guiltily with the buttons on his coat.
"Well! Sitting in silence is always fun, but let's get down to work. Shall we?" I declared sarcastically, hoping lighten the mood. I opened the car door, still clutching at the case files Sherlock had handed to me.
"Right, that sounds like a good idea." Sam emerged from his side of the car. His limbs seemed to stretch out for a mile, making it hard to believe they had fit in the car.
I felt for the house key in my pocket, but I couldn't find it. I patted my other pockets to no avail. In the excitement from this morning I must have forgotten to bring it. "Uhh... Sam could you unlock the door, please?"
"Sure, where's the key?" My face flushed a light pink color.
"I don't have it."
"Oh," Sam laughed in understanding. He bent down in front of the lock, and set to work on it. Less than a minute later he had undone both locks on the door. He twisted the knob and held the door open for me. "After you my lady."
I laughed, entering the house. Sam came in behind me with his eyes alight in happiness. It nearly broke my heart to see how much happier of a person Sam had been before Azazel told him about the demon blood, destroying his self-worth and making him feel like a freak.
I walked into the kitchen, sliding the case files into my back pack to free my hands. "Do you want anything to drink Sammy?"
"Water would be fine."
"Some H20 coming right up." I grabbed two glasses from the nearest cabinet, filled them up, and handed one to Sam. I stalked over to the countertop where the pie was sitting from this morning. Placing two forks into the nearly empty dish, I balanced it in my other hand.
"Let's go, Sammy." I heard him follow me as I went up the stairs for the second time today. Leading him into my bedroom, I placed the pie tin and my water down on the desk, which had been shoved into the corner. I removed my shoes, and carefully set them beneath the window.
"We'll probably be here for a while, Sam. You might as well take of your shoes too."
"Oh, yea… Sure thing," He set his glass next to mine and removed his shoes placing them by the doorway. "Why did you take the pie? We just ate."
"It's a subtle way of telling Dean I'm pissed at him." I responded, sliding my backpack onto my bed.
"You know he'll be upset." Sam looked at the pie as if it was in the act of betraying his brother.
"That's the point." I replied with as much sass as I could muster. Sam looked a bit taken aback by my response, so I added in, "There's another pie downstairs. Dean just won't know that."
"Why do you have two pies?" Sam asked, amused.
"I bake when I'm bored." I replied, defensively. Turning my attention back to my bag, I rifled through its contents taking out the mythology book and the case files.
The pages were much more marked up than they had been before. I had a feeling it was for my benefit. Sherlock must have anticipated that Dean was going to keep me from going onto the crime scene, so he wrote down some of the key points in the hopes I would figure them out. I'm not exactly sure why Sherlock seemed to think so highly of me. I was really just like anyone else. Ordinary. Boring. Yet he had seemed to respect me ever since I ran into them on the street. Perhaps, he had liked the flattery I had offered, or maybe he saw some intelligence in me that I didn't know existed.
I desperately wanted to start reading through the papers, but the room had to be demon proofed a bite further first. Setting the pages aside, I gestured toward the windows, "Would you mind moving those jars to the side, so we can secure the windows?"
"Of course," Sam approached the windows and began to set the jars on the hardwood floor. I walked over to my closet and took out a large box of salt. I poured it by and around the door. By now Sam had taken all of the jars, so I threw him the container of salt. He caught it with an easy grace, pouring it along the closed windows. Truth be told, I hated having the windows closed. It made me feel trapped. I understood the need to keep them shut for further protection, though, so I kept my mouth shut.
Taking the pie tin and my water, I settled back onto my bed, citing cross-legged. Sam finished pouring the salt, and he set the container down next to the jars. Sam grabbed the remaining glass of water and took a sip, causing the ice to clink. Unsure of where to sit, he leaned up against the wall awkwardly. Sam really was a cutie, I thought glancing over at him. The silly boy didn't know what to do with himself half the time.
"Come over here. I know you want to look at the files as much as I do," I invited, patting the bed next to me. I scooted over a few inches to make room for the large hunter, and he sat down beside me, crossing his legs. I set the pie tin between us and the papers in front of us.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Beyond the sound of ruffling paper and the scrape of a fork along the bottom of the pie pan, we were enveloped in silence. I was looking through Sherlock's autopsy report when I found something strange. He had noted there were high levels of Cu3Zn2 in the tissue of the wound, but not in other parts of the body. Freeing the laptop from my bag, I searched Cu3Zn2. The results that popped up showed that Cu3Zn2 was the chemical formula for brass. I sat back a little, looking at Sherlock's notes again.
"So get this," I said breaking the relative quiet of our research time. Sam looked up surprised from the file he had been reading. I pointed to the autopsy report, "Sherlock noted here that there was a high concentration of Cu3Zn2, which is brass. That means the murder weapon had to be made from brass. That's not really the typical way that demons kill."
Sam leaned closer to me to look at the paper. "You're right. Something isn't right about this."
"I don't think the demon is working alone. It must have someone or something else working with it." I chewed on my bottom lip, nervously. Imagine dealing not only with a demon, but also with some other type of monster. "Have you seen anything in the other reports?"
"Umm," Sam riffled through the pages he had been reading. "A couple of these reports mentioned feathers at the scene. The weird thing was that they said the feathers were made out of metal."
"Oh, that could be it." I quickly grabbed Sam's phone (it was the closest) and dialed John's number. The phone rang twice before John picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hi John, it's Lucy."
"Is everything alright?" I could hear him getting nervous for my well being, settling into solider mode.
"Yes. Everything is fine. I just had a question."
"Okay," the relief in his voice was well hidden. "What is it?"
"Have any of you found a feather? A metal one, it would probably be brass?"
"No I… give me a second," his hand covered the receiver as he called for Sherlock. I heard him ask the detective if he had seen a brass feather. The detective was silent for a moment, and I could only imagine him whirling around the room his black coat swirling around him, looking for a feather. A slight "Aha!" reached my ears from the covered receiver, and I looked at Sam nervously. We were both on edge, waiting for a response.
"Yes there is indeed a brass feather on the scene of the crime," Sherlock said into the phone. Apparently he had taken it from John. "Do you think it's connected to the Cu3Zn2 I found in the body?"
"That's exactly what we think, Sherlock." I replied to the detective, excitement rising in my chest.
"I suggest you search for some creature with brass feathers, maybe a bird or something similar." There was a bit of scuffling on their end of the line, before John spoke again. "I don't think Sherlock likes admitting that he doesn't know a thing about the supernatural or any sort of mythology. He would have deleted it all ages ago. I think he managed to answer your question, though."
"Yes he did. Thank you very much Doctor Watson." I clicked the end call button and handed the phone back to Sam. He grinned at me, taking it from my hand and slipping it into his pocket.
"So we're looking for something with metal wings?" Sam asked, scooping my laptop up to put on his lap.
"More than just metal wings," I thought out loud. "Remember the wound? I think it could be from a beak. We're probably looking for something that's either a bird or half bird. Judging by the missing heart, it probably has a taste for human flesh."
"Wonderful, a flesh-eating bird and a demon are both chasing after you."
"Basically," I nodded with a smirk. "It looks like my life is finally getting interesting."
Sam gave me a look that landed somewhere between concerned and smitten. I smiled in response. I found it increasingly harder to ignore that I seemed just as besotted with Sam as he seemed to be with me. Snatching my mythology book, which Sam had been looking through a bit earlier, I began to skim the pages for the monster. After a few minutes here, Sam turned the laptop screen to face me.
"Stymphalian Birds, they fit the criteria perfectly. They have brass wings. They're sometimes depicted with a beak. They also have a penchant for human flesh."
I studied the article Sam had pulled up. "They're from Greek Mythology, one of Hercules's tasks. How do we defend against it?" I asked turning to face Sam.
"Says here that Hercules used a brass castanet, the clashing noise drove the birds crazy. Then he shot them down with a bow and arrow."
"Do you know how to shoot a bow and arrow?"
"Actually, I can." He responded, smiling.
"Really? I shouldn't be surprised by that, but your Dad taught you to shoot a bow and arrow?"
"He taught us just in case, but I've never used one on a gig. We don't have one in the truck either, just the guns."
"What about other weapons? Bo-staff? Nun-chucks?"
"We can use basically anything as a weapon."
"Nice," I said impressed. "Back on topic, we need something that will make loud noises. Gunshots are a bit conspicuous, maybe some cymbals or…. Oh!"
"What?" Sam asked surprised by my sudden outburst.
"I'll be right back." I rushed out of the room, running down the stairs. I turned an immediate right into a room my parents liked to refer to as the music room. There was a piano and a few guitars in there, along with my violin and miscellaneous instruments we've acquired over the years.
"LUCY! You aren't supposed to leave the room!" I could hear Sam chasing after me down the stairs his feet falling heavily on the steps. I found a box over in the corner of the room that contained most of the random instruments from my years as a child. I pulled a tambourine out of the box. Sam can into the room at that moment and upon seeing the tambourine began to laugh.
"That's what you rushed down here for?"
"Oh stop it. You know this is the noisiest thing I have in the house. I think it will do its job well." I stomped past him, picking up my violin case on the way. I marched back up the stairs with the hunter following behind still laughing. I set the tambourine within reach of the where I was sitting on my bed. When Sam entered the room behind me, he found me staring down at my violin case debating to open it or not.
"Why did you bring that up here?"
"I play when I'm nervous. It helps soothe my nerves." I answered honestly.
"Then why aren't you playing?" Sam asked sitting down next to me.
"I don't like having an audience. It's too easy to make one mistake, making everyone think you're terrible." I traced the clasps on the case. Should I play in front of Sam? I didn't really want to, but the comfort the notes would bring would soothe my chaotic thoughts.
"Will you play?" Sam looked at me hopefully. God, it was hard to see him hopeful. I desperately wanted to hug him tightly, keep him from protected from all the harm that comes his way.
"Okay," I replied in a small voice. Who was I to deny him anything? I flipped the silver clasps open with a faint click and pushed back the top of the case, revealing the violin inside it. It really was a beautiful instrument. Its wooden body shined as I tenderly picked it up, setting it on my lap. Next I took the bow out of the case, sliding the rosin along the strings. I closed the case and set it at the side of my bed.
"Just don't… judge me too much okay?"
"Of course not," Sam replied earnestly.
Taking a deep breath, I set the bow to the strings. I had been working on a piece called "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri. A lot of people recognized it from one of the Twilight movies. However, I had come across it while watching Johnlock fan videos. There was one based off an excellently written, but incredibly sad pieced called "Alone on the Water." I watched the video and cried for good hour afterward, repeating the video over and over. It was an addicting sort of sorrow.
The piece was memorized, and I had played it so many times I could probably do it in my sleep. I closed my eyes, letting the first note ring out. I let my fear dissipate in the wake of the pure notes that rung out from my instrument. I thought back to all my beloved characters and how they were here now, sharing the day with me, so I poured my happiness into the music. I thought how Sam, John, Sherlock, they were all going to leave me once this case was solved. I would be all alone again. I thought how being alone was fine, until you got a taste of what it felt like to be with others. Then being alone no longer held its appeal. I let that sadness I knew was coming ripple into the sweet sound of the song.
The song was only a few minutes long, but it felt like an eternity. By the time my bow played the last note, I was too far gone to return to reality. I took a moment before opening my eyes, realizing they were wet. At some point in the song, I had begun to cry. I didn't remember crying.
I lowered the violin and used the hand with the bow to wipe my eyes. I felt a hand on my shoulder and traced it up to the owner's face.
"Lucy, that was… stunning. I've never- I've never heard something so beautiful in my life."
"You really think so?"
"Absolutely," he replied, wiping away the remaining tears on my face away with his thumb. I looked up, our eyes meeting. Sam leaned in brushing his lips against mine gently. I melted into the kiss, his lips much softer than I would have imagined. After a moment, we mutually pulled away. I smiled cautiously at the hunter, and he grinned back, pulling me into a hug.
Three knocks on the door, abruptly pulled us out of the embrace. Dean's voiced carried through the mostly opened doorway, "Is it safe to come in now, or do you girls need a few more minutes Sammy?"
The horror stricken look on Sam's face made me laugh. I scouted back a bit, returning my violin to its place in my lap before calling out "Come on in Dean. We were just waiting for you."
