A/N Hey people! I know I'm supposed to wait a certain amount of time before I post chapters, but I'm an impatient lady. Well, maybe not a lady. I have few ladylike qualities. Any who, I'm having so much fun writing this that I couldn't resist posting a second chapter in the same day. Crazy, right? All the same disclaimers apply, of course. I don't a single darned character, location, or object, damn it. Oh, and I may have made up a couple of locations. I'm only playing with them/torturing them. Fun times. To explain a little...By now you've figured out that I've included Psych, Chuck, True Blood, X-Men, and a bit of Supernatural (Had to explain why Lassie looks so much like Cain, didn't I?) in this sordid tale. Don't worry, I'm not going to keep torturing them for long. I hope you guys have as much fun reading this as I am having fun writing it. I should probably be doing my College Composition and Human Behavior homework, but my characters just won't quit me. As always, read, review, and encourage. E-hugs! Auntie S.
Unable to sleep, Carlton flamed into the secret NSA/CIA satellite substation beneath the Santa Barbara Buy More, appearing behind Morgan, who jumped out of his skin when he saw flames reflected in one of the darker monitors. "Jeez, Carlton! Warn a guy!" He exclaimed, clutching his chest and fanning himself as if he had the vapors. Carlton stepped back, apologetic. "Sorry Morgan, I didn't realize anyone was here. What are you doing here?"
"Chuck called me and asked me to put together intel on some of your cousins, the Children of Lilith." Morgan responded with a yawn, rolling away from his screens.
Carlton sneered. "The Children of Lilith are no cousins of mine."
Morgan frowned. "Aren't you a vampire? You drink blood and have fangs."
"If a thirst for blood and fangs were requirements for being a vampire, a lot of species could claim the name." Carlton countered, sitting at the empty metal table where they usually grouped before or after missions. The electric blue lighting made him look gaunt and tired. Thinking of blood made him thirsty, so he got up again and went to a small refrigerator where donated blood was kept for him.
"If you're not a vampire, what are you?" Morgan asked, watching as he poured half a bag into a white squared off ceramic mug. He heated it in the microwave above the small refrigerator and took his seat again. Morgan tried not to grimace as he watched the man sip the dark red liquid like so much hot cocoa. He licked his lips before he answered. "That's a long story." He replied.
Morgan spun in his chair, motioning around him. "We're all alone down here, and we have all night. I could go for some supernatural story time." He rolled over to the table and propped his face in his hands, blinking brown eyes up at Carlton. Carlton hid a smirk behind his mug and decided it couldn't hurt. It wasn't as if the world wasn't a strange place already.
"Okay, I'll tell you the story." He agreed, took another drink, and set the cup on the table. "Once upon a time," he began, "there was a god. Lower case g, because in the grand scheme of things they're all lower case g's. One day, this god who liked to think he was more important than any of the other deities existing in the universes decided he wanted to recreate the dominant species of this planet in his own image. So he did. A little mud here, a rib there, and he had the first two humans. There were still other humans on this pale blue dot, but they weren't in his favor. In any event, he created a garden for them and animals and told them they had dominion over all. His only restriction was not to eat a piece of fruit from a tree. It was an inane order he knew they wouldn't follow. The guy was like a child, self-centered and mean." He paused, took another drink, and went on. "Lucifer, one of god's fallen angels, took the form of a snake and tricked Adam and Eve into disobeying god, and they were all cast out of the garden to join the rest of humanity, such as it was. For a while, Adam and Eve struggled and toiled and became pregnant with their first children, Cain and Abel. I'm sure you remember the biblical version of their story."
"Right, right." Morgan said in rapt attention. "Abel made good sacrifices, Cain made bad, and Abel found favor with god. Cain became jealous and killed his brother, committing the first recorded murder."
"The first recorded Christian murder." Carlton corrected him. "There were plenty of other murders before them. But that's not exactly how the story goes."
"So what's the real truth?" Morgan asked eagerly.
"The real truth of it is, Lucifer wasn't finished with Adam and Eve and their offspring. He was jealous of the favor god showed the humans, even after they were exiled from Eden, so he pretended to be god. He spoke with Abel, who was born with a twisted, dark soul, and convinced him that he was god. But Cain saw through his guise and knew that if he didn't do anything, his brother's soul would be condemned to hell. So Cain made an offer to Lucifer. If Lucifer left his brother alone and allowed his soul to ascend, he would serve Lucifer for eternity."
He paused again, his eyes growing distant as he drank more. Morgan remained absolutely silent. This wasn't in any version of the bible he'd ever read.
"Lucifer agreed to the condition, with one exception." Carlton continued. "The only way Lucifer would allow Abel's soul to ascend was for Cain to slay his brother himself. Cain grudgingly agreed to kill his brother to save his soul, and as a result committed the first murder of god's favored children. He was cursed by god with the Mark of Cain and wandered the earth alone until his dying day, when he went to hell. Lucifer took him into the fold and he became the first Knight of Hell, the highest rank of demon under Lucifer. He served Lucifer for eons, until one day when Lucifer was locked in a cage and he was free to roam the earth, where he spread his seed and avoided the other Knights he had trained. I am the result of one of his…romantic dalliances. He met my mother in 1835 got her in the family way, and abandoned us soon after I was born."
Morgan's eyes went wide. "You're telling me you're the son of the Cain? You're half demon?"
"Indeed." Carlton agreed, and finished his blood. He licked a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. "As a half demon I have some unexpected abilities and appetites, but like my father, I am good in my soul, and like him, I protect humanity."
"Wow." Morgan exclaimed, slapping his small hands on the table. "Just…wow. How many of you are there? Children of Cain, I mean."
Carlton spread his hands in an 'I have no idea' gesture. "Demons aren't big on family reunions, and some of us have embraced darkness more than others. I try to avoid my brethren as much as possible. We can identify each other on sight, so they're fairly easy to avoid."
"That's a relief. Something tells me we're going to have a rough time of it with vampires coming out of the woodwork. I'd hate to see a demonic showdown thrown into the mix." He yawned again and Carlton went to wash his mug out. "Go home, Morgan. I can comb through the records better than you when it comes to the supernatural anyway." He said over his shoulder. Morgan agreed readily and headed home, slapping Carlton's back on the way to the stairs. "It's good to have you on our side, Carlton. I'd hate to go up against you." And with that Morgan bounced up the stairs to the locker exit and Carlton was left alone with his work.
Hours later, Carlton moved stiffly when he heard the door open again. Casey, an early riser, was there, looking as alert as ever. He nodded to the computer screens. "Find anything useful?" He asked. Carlton gave a noncommittal shrug. "Nothing I didn't know already. They're Children of Lilith, allergic to sunlight and silver, nocturnal, survive on human blood and synthetic human blood, which, incidentally, is made with marine worm, and thus far they haven't made any moves to dominate the human species. That particular idea still rests solely with the darker mutants and aliens, unfortunately. Sometimes I miss the days when it was just us demons trying to one-up the lower life forms. No offense."
"None taken. I miss the days when all we knew about were humans." Casey grunted, turning on the coffee pot. "You sticking around?"
Carlton pushed away from the monitors and stood, stretching his neck. It cracked. "No, I have to get to work. Everything I've gathered is in a file marked 'Children of Lilith'. Have fun." He replied, and then flamed out and back to his home, where he showered, changed his clothes, and checked messages. There was one from the Captain, a text. First casualty found Lawson Pier. En route now. He cursed. So much for a leisurely morning.
The scene at Lawson Pier was, as expected, swarming with cops. He found Chief Vick and she filled him in on the details. "According to the Jamba Juice manager, he heard a young girl scream, followed by gunfire twenty minutes ago. We haven't found her yet."
"Why isn't Spencer here?" Carlton asked, worried. Usually the psychic was first on the scene of a missing person.
"He and Gus are heading up a search further down the boardwalk. He can't sense her, though. I've got uniforms covering both ends of the boardwalk, trying to get any information on the girl. So far we don't have a name yet."
Carlton frowned. It wasn't like Shawn not to know the details before everyone else did. "Okay, I'll go start questioning the locals." He said, and started walking down the boardwalk. He turned back to scan the crowds gathering when something glittering caught the corner of his eye beneath the pier. Narrowing his acute vision, he saw what looked like something sickly and pale clinging to the bank. At first it looked like it was moving with the tide, but then he saw something twitch beneath seaweed. Fingers. He cursed and peeled off his socks and shoes quickly, rolled up his pants, and went running. Chief Vick watched her best detective running like a madman toward something under the pier and shouted after him. "Lassiter! What is it?" She yelled. He didn't respond. He waded shin deep into late November waters and stooped next to something she couldn't quite make out. It looked like garbage washed up on shore. Picking her way down the dunes, she got to Lassiter as he removed garbage and seaweed from a girl, no more than 18.
"She's still alive!" He said urgently, turning her over. There was a gunshot wound in her left shoulder and her lips were blue. Her eyes were ringed with gothic makeup and in her mouth were two plastic fangs glued to her canines. Chief Vick radioed for paramedics as he lifted her in his arms and carried her up the dunes. He laid her gently on the boardwalk and checked her pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He shrugged out of his coat and covered her with it. Hypothermia had set in. She wasn't shivering anymore. Not caring who saw, he took her left hand and sent a pulse of the hellfire within him, willing it to warm her slowly. Heating her too quickly would only complicate things. Chief Vick blinked, sure that she'd seen something strange, but decided that it was a trick of the imagination.
Paramedics came running and transferred the girl to a backboard, raised her onto a gurney, and loaded her into an ambulance. By then Shawn and Gus had returned to the scene. "Did you find out anything?" Carlton asked Shawn. He shook his head. "I'm blocked today. I don't know why." He responded, sounding like he'd failed at saving the planet. Beside him, Gus was doing his best imitation of a trout, his mouth flopping open and shut again. Carlton eyed him, wondering what his problem was. "Out with it, Guster." He growled, his feet cold now that the adrenaline was fading. He hated being cold. Gus looked down at Carlton's feet and back up again. "Feet." Was all he managed to say. Carlton shot a quizzical look at Shawn, who only shrugged. He sighed heavily through his nose. "Get your friend out of here, Spencer. He's malfunctioning." He growled, and then went back to find his shoes.
Shawn attempted to grab his friend's arm and drag him away, but Gus flinched and spun to face Shawn angrily. "Those were the feet!" He insisted adamantly. Shawn nodded slowly. "Yes, Gus, Lassie does have two feet. We bipeds who walk upright often come with a pair." He said sarcastically.
"You know what I'm talking about, Shawn!" Gus hissed, struggling to keep his voice down. His arms, not so much. He was flapping like an angry seagull. "Those were the feet from last night! His feet! Oh God, I have to go scrub my brains out with lye soap." He moaned, holding his head. Shawn got it then and scrubbed his face with both hands, pulling them down and doing his best Droopy impression. "Gus, calm down. You're making a scene." He said for maybe the first time in his life. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to the illicit relationship between himself and Carlton. Gus froze, his eyes blazing. "You're sleeping with Lassiter! What the hell are you thinking?" He demanded, his voice tight and low through clenched teeth. His eyebrows were spasming like epileptic caterpillars. Shawn closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "This isn't the time or the place, Gus. Why don't we go get some food?" He suggested. Gus practically turned green. "I can't think of eating. Like, ever again. Oh God oh God…"
"Will you get a hold of yourself, Gus? You don't know Carlton the way I do. He's a good man."
"He's evil incarnate, and he's at least a decade older than you! I can accept that you're gay, but do you have to be gay with him? He's…Lassiter!" His voice was starting to rise. Thankfully, no one was paying them any attention. Suddenly, one of the posts of a fence that separated the boardwalk from the ocean snapped and Shawn winced. Now that his abilities were evolving, he was having difficulty controlling them. Gus saw the post, snapped like a greenstick break in a bone, and backed away. "Did you…?" He squeaked. Shawn took another cleansing breath. He needed to get away from this new situation for a while. "I'm outa here." He ground through clenched teeth. Gus started to follow, but Shawn warned him off. "Not now, Gus. You'll only make it worse." He seethed, and then took off.
"What's eating him?" Juliet asked. She'd seen their twisted version of charades from the ambulance and came to investigate. An image of the shape of the covers last night flashed in Gus' mind and he groaned, feeling ill. "Wrong question, Jules." He groaned, clutching his stomach and covering his mouth. He ran before he embarrassed himself on the beach, leaving Juliet in the dark. She let her hands flop at her sides. "What is up with everyone?" She wondered aloud, and went back to the car.
Shawn went directly to the most indestructible place he could find, one of the training rooms beneath the Buy More. It was filled with various hand to hand combat weapons mounted on walls in the circular room, all of which rattled in their holders as he entered the room. He knelt in the center of the room, clutching his neck, his head down. It probably wasn't the best place he could have chosen, but he needed to get a handle on these emotions before he hurt someone. The logical part of his brain told him that Gus would get over this, but his reaction brought out shame and anger and a hurt so deep that not even a katana could have inflicted a worse wound.
All of his secrets were coming out all at once, leaving him on shaky ground. Add to it these new abilities surfacing as the flow of psychic abilities returned and he was a Molotov cocktail waiting to be thrown. He yelled his frustration and a sharp scythe went flying across the room, lodging in the wall beside the door and disabling the security panel. Wonderful. Seeing the weapon cause damage helped, though. He stood and gestured at a set of throwing stars mounted in a case. The glass shattered and the stars went flying, all coming directly at him. His spy training kicked in and he dodged them with a twisting backward bend, landing on his right hand hard. It exploded in pain, but the pain urged him on. More weapons went flying, splintering the wooden dojo style walls and burying themselves in the cement behind the façade. It was a beautiful sort of chaos that drained the anger and frustration from him. Sweating from exertion, he panted as a final heavy mace (Who used maces anymore?) rocketed at him. He ducked his head just in time, lost his balance, and fell on his ass. Breathing hard, his mind cleared and he took in the devastation around him. He was going to be in trouble when Casey saw the place. Uh oh. Too late.
"You done with your temper tantrum?" Casey inquired as Shawn yanked the door open telekinetically, his voice unusually average for a guy who normally grunted. Shawn rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I figured here was better than out there." He motioned toward the world above, where a majority of the community was still innocent humans. Casey gave a minimal shrug. "Did we know you could do this?" He asked, pulling the scythe out of the security panel with a grunt.
"My abilities are still evolving, apparently. This just started." Shawn replied lamely and winced as his right hand twinged painfully. It was already swelling. Casey took the hand without asking, turned it over, and huffed something that sounded like, "Sprained." He let go of the hand. "What brought this on?" He asked as they headed into a room where first aid supplies were kept. He grabbed an ice pack, cracked it, and strapped it to Shawn's arm.
"My friend Gus figured out something I wasn't ready for him to know." Shawn replied, wincing.
Casey gave a short grunt. "You and Lassiter?" He inquired. When Shawn didn't reply right away, Casey said, "I can read body language as well as the next spy, kid. Personally, I don't give a rat's ass where you like to plant your flag. Just don't bring your relationship shit to work. It's reckless." He warned, glancing back at the destroyed training room. "Duly noted." Shawn agreed. Casey finished fixing up his arm and they went back to the main room. "I'm going to have to report to Beckman that you now have telekinetic abilities, and put in a requisition for a new training room. You may not want to be here when I do that." He suggested. Shawn agreed that he should probably dodge that particular bullet and thanked him.
At home he showered, rewrapped his wrist, and checked his phone. Chief Vick wanted to see him, of course. With the tantrum out of his system he felt drained, but he had a job to do, so he powered through it. Back to the bike he went, considering a more enclosed vehicle now that the weather was getting cooler and he didn't intend to share a vehicle with Gus anytime soon. Now that he was back in the spy game he had a decent flow of cash again. Maybe he should get a Jeep.
Chief Vick was behind her desk, speaking with the mayor of Santa Barbara. "No Sir, she wasn't a vampire. No, she was just a girl playing dress up." She said, exasperated. She waved him toward a chair and he sat. "Yes, that's right. She's stable, but they're watching her. We will find her shooter." She promised, nodding. "Of course. You'll know the moment I know anything. Thank you." She hung up the phone and let out a string of colorful curse words, along with words like 'incompetent' and 'buffoon'. Finally, she turned her attention back to Shawn, giving him a false smile. "I thought you and I should talk about what happened on the boardwalk today. What's going on with your abilities? You usually have at least some idea which direction to go."
Shawn made a helpless gesture and licked his lips nervously. She didn't know that he'd only been pretending to use psychic abilities for the last four years. "To be honest, Chief, I don't know what's going on. I'm like a teenager going through puberty again. My powers are in flux." He gestured wildly and the pen holder on her desk went skittering to the floor. She backed up a little, but held her composure. "I see." She said dryly. He bent and picked up the pens. "Sorry about that." He set the square wooden container on her desk again. She crossed her arms and eyed him thoughtfully. When she spoke again it was from a place of compassion, one she rarely went to. It was hard enough being a female Chief of Police without people thinking she only thought with her ovaries.
"I can't imagine what it's like to have abilities like yours, Mr. Spencer. From the mutant literature I've read, people who exhibit abilities like yours often have strong ties to their emotions. Now, I don't know if you're a mutant or just an unlucky homo inferior like the rest of us…"
Got the homo part right, Shawn thought wryly. That was part of the problem. His best friend was so disgusted by his relationship with Carlton that he'd nearly puked on Shawn's shoes.
"But I do think that you need a little time to get your head straight. Incidentally, do you possess the X-gene, by chance?"
Shawn's automatic response would have been 'that's classified', but she didn't know about his work with the government. In answering her question, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. He decided to be honest. "I do. I manifested as a psychic when I was a teenager. That's all I'm willing to say about that."
For a moment she looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her opinions to herself. "Very well, Mr. Spencer. I'm pretty sure we can handle this vampire thing for the next few days. Take some time off. Relax. Get a massage, or have your chakras aligned. Whatever it takes to get these new abilities under control, do it. I would rather not have the rest of the department finding out just yet about you. Psychic is one thing, but psychokinetic is an entirely different matter. It would raise too many questions for both of us. You got me?"
"Yes Chief." Shawn replied, relieved. "Thank you for understanding."
"Anytime, Mr. Spencer. Now get out of here. I don't want to see you again until after the holidays."
Shawn had forgotten that Thanks Giving was right around the corner. Great, more tension in his future. He couldn't fathom where all this anger was coming from, but putting his father in its path wouldn't be a good idea, especially when Henry had no idea that Shawn was anything other than a fake psychic whose cover would be blown at any moment. Henry was just waiting for him to fail, and when Shawn did, he would be there to gloat. The window behind Chief Vick cracked as Shawn stood to leave. Chief Vick let out a very uncharacteristic yelp that was almost a scream and sprang to her feet. Shawn paled. "Fuck! I'm sorry, Chief." He apologized. She held up a hand. "Go home, now. I'll take care of it." She said tightly. He left before she made him take care of the bill. As he rushed out, he passed Carlton's desk. Instantly Carlton felt the rage roiling off of him and gave chase, but Shawn didn't want to deal with him at the moment. He needed time to cool off. Again.
Inside his apartment, he shoved the door shut and slammed his fist into it, and then yelled because he'd used his right hand. "Fuck!" He swore, cradling his arm to his chest. Something was definitely wrong. He'd never felt blind rage like this in his life. It made him fill sick and frustrated. He wanted to destroy everything in his sight. Stumbling into the living room, he set his sights on a lamp and the base exploded like a bomb. A terrified yell caught him off guard and he spun to see Gus standing in the kitchen holding a six pack of beer. It went crashing to the floor, the bottles exploding. He jumped back, his eyes wide in horror. "Shawn…your eyes…" He choked out. Shawn barely heard him. All he saw was the guy who was disgusted with him, the guy who judged him for being with Carlton. His voice came out in a snarl of wordless rage and he lunged for the man. Gus let out a girlish scream, and then another when a tower of flames suddenly became a man between them. It was Lassiter. Gus wet his pants a little. "Shawn!" Carlton bellowed, his voice full of demonic power. Shawn tried to get past him, but Carlton wrapped him in an impenetrable steel grip and they both disappeared in more flames, leaving Gus to wonder what the hell he had just witnessed.