CITY OF ANGELS
Tony Anderson was pleased. He had got himself a lump of money after talking Malcolm Merlyn into a deal, after Moira Queen turned him down almost immediately. Merlyn even gave him more money. Time for a vacation out of this dump. He got himself a small house in the nicer parts of the city, but he knew the Glades were a mess.
Back home and smiling to himself, Tony called his guards out of his room, sitting down and casually reading the evening papers. Everything was alright, until the lights started to shake and go out. The businessman put down his newspaper and shouted for his maid to check the electricity supply. No one answered. In fact, not even a squeak came from outside Tony's bedroom.
The light bulbs shattered, the pieces falling and scraping onto his skin. Tony Anderson was panicking, when a man held him by his shirt collar, a knife pressed tight against his neck. Tony let out a whimpering attempt to call his guards, but the man shook his head.
"They're asleep now. They can't hear you," the man whispered emotionlessly. "My commander says hello." There was no time for him to ask who his commander was- Tony Anderson felt his insides burn and he choked on his own fluid. He thought he heard the man whisper something like, Farewell, Brother.
And that was the last thing he felt on Earth, before dropping to the ground with a loud thump.
"Dean, check this out. Rich dude called Tony Anderson murdered, eyes burned out and insides vaporized in Starling City. Just need to wait for the pictures to l- whoa. Dean. Really. Come here."
"What?" Dean mumbled, keeping the annoyance in his voice.
"The guy. He looks like-"
Dean bent a little closer, then retreated in horror. "Dad? What the hell is happening?"
"His name's Tony Anderson. He was killed last night in Starling. No relation to our family, I think."
"Wait. What, Starling City? Last time I went there, Baby got scratched by some stupid gang. And don't even mention the traffic. A nightmare," the older Winchester groaned, a clear scowl on his face as he stuffed the last of his bacon cheeseburger into his mouth. "Ain't riskin' Baby like that, thank you very much. And by the way, Garth just called to chat. There's a rugaru at his. I say we go there, clean little hunt, then come back and get some crap out of Crowley."
"Garth's been hunting for some time. He can handle his own stuff. And last time I checked, you aren't on the best terms with that stubborn old sheriff in Wisconsin," replied Sam.
"I didn't know you liked huge cities and traffic, Sam," said Dean.
"No, you're right, but it's just… I've got a friend living there. Thought I could stop by and you know, say hi." Sam shrugged at Dean's sarcastic remark.
"One of your nerd college buddies?"
Sam sighed. "Dean, you remember that time Dad went for the vamps nest in Vegas?"
"Yeah. Those were deadly. Why?"
"I was in high school. And someone three-sixtied me down the swimming pool."
"Oh, right. Those dicks."
"And they threw not only me, but also my laptop into the water. A girl helped me fix it. She's now in Starling City. I just wanted to say hi. We haven't met in a while."
Dean sat there silently, a crooked smile on his face. "Fine. Just for you, lover boy. You sure your body up for some crashing?"
"Shut up, jerk."
After telling Kevin that they were leaving, the brothers packed and climbed back into the Impala. Sam had tried avoiding Dean's bombing questions at first, but his mind gave in- he fell asleep on shotgun, and Dean finally stopped and started singing along to AC/DC instead. Memories came flooding back to Sam.
(flashback: November 2000)
Sam's luck had pretty much ran out. Dean had just drove out of town to help Dad that same day the school bullies decided to push him down the swimming pool. Well, naturally. There were no ponds around- it was Vegas, and a desert, after all. Sam was used to being called a midget. He had just recently hit five foot five and looked like he was fourteen when the rest of the seniors were all looking like grownups; some of the boys even being six foot or taller. But he wasn't expecting to get wet until the pool came into sight, and now his clothes and hair were soaked. Worse, his laptop was drenched in water and was now reeking in the smell of chlorine. Great. Here goes my midyear Biology essay, he thought. He had to do the damn thing again for the third time.
"Sam, you okay?" asked Wade. The only thing that he was happy about was having a friend. Wade was Sam's lab partner in Biology and pretty much his only friend in the school. "I've got a shirt in my locker, but my jeans are probably too big for you."
"I'll manage. I got my own spare."
"You totally don't look okay. You look like a wet puppy."
"Yeah, they drowned my laptop. Guess I'm stuck doing Boring's essay over and over again for eternity, huh?" A smile crossed Wade's face. "What?"
"You got time after school, Sam?"
"I think so. Why?"
"I know a girl, lives next door to me. She's in eighth and dead smart. She fixed my laptop when my dad found out about my new figurines and smashed it. Maybe she can help." Wade's father was an alcoholic, though far worse than the grumpy Winchester back home- his old man was bloody and violent, and Dean let Wade crash for a couple of nights a week ago.
"I'm in. See ya, buddy," said Sam as he ran into the toilet and got changed. Everyone at the school was staring at the young Winchester as he headed off to his last class for the day with wet, scrambled hair. The class looked at him with a sudden satisfaction, and the jocks were laughing. Sam glared at the big guy who pushed him and cursed under his breath, then sat down and fumbled for his textbook.
"Didn't have your big bro around to save your ass this time, huh, Winchester?" the guy taunted. Sam ignored him. At least he was good at that. The jocks started towards him and wanted to push Sam off his chair- but Mr Boring's entrance saved his life. He silently thanked the teacher despite his dead on hate for his lessons. True to his names, they were great lullabies for seventeen year olds to fall asleep.
After school, Wade was waiting outside the lab and the teens walked the short distance to the girl's house. Wade's house was a couple of blocks away from the motel John, Dean and Sam were staying. Sam recognized his friend's house as Wade stopped a house behind. The boys stepped into the front yard, and Wade knocked on the door. Sam realized the guy was tapping Morse Code for whoever was at home to open the door. Maybe it was a secret passcode or something.
A girl with black hair and a shy smile opened the door, her glasses slightly falling over her nose. "Wade, what's up? Who's that guy?"
"This is Sam. Sam, meet Felicity, the girl who's going to save your Biology essay."
"Hey, Sam."
Sam dug out his laptop from his backpack. "Can you fix this thing? My life depends on it."
"I'll try. Heck, this thing reeks of pool water. Come on in."
"Agents Jackson and Chase, FBI. We're looking into the death of Tony Anderson," Sam said to the detective as Dean fixed his tie.
The detective scrunched his eyebrows together for a moment, then gave Sam a fake smile. He always knew when people were doing that. It sometimes annoyed him. "This way, Agents." The Winchesters followed the man into the room to see the body of the merchant. Or what was left of it. "The guard found him just like that. Scared the living hell out of that poor guy. He just kept on talking a bunch of crap. Not making a lick of sense since Anderson was killed. Eyes burned out, insides vaporized- we've never seen that before. Not in my entire life."
"Can you give us a moment, Detective?"
"Sure. I'll be right outside."
Making sure the detective was right out of sight, Sam turned back to his brother, who was carefully looking at what was left of the merchant.
"Angels. Hundred percent. I've seen this crap a thousand times," Dean muttered.
"But why will an angel be after some random rich guy?"
"Go ask the detective. See if the dude got enemies or something before he died, and stuff. I'll check if he left anything. Looks like we need a night out to the poor guy's house."
Sam nodded silently, heading back out and leaving his seemingly grumpy brother in the morgue. "Hey, uh, Detective, I was just wonderi-"
"Lance, a hand over here?" a girl yelled, and the detective jabbed his finger inside the interrogation room.
"Sorry, Agent. I'll talk to you later," Detective Lance said, running after the girl and the skinny red hoodie guy in cuffs.
"It's okay." Sam looked around the station. It was neater than the previous sheriff's places he'd been. But again, Starling City was huge, so things were probably more in control than a messy small town. He spotted Dean going out of the room and heading towards him. "Anything?"
"Nope. I'm gonna wait outside." Before Sam could stop his brother, he had already half jogged his way out of the place. Detective Lance came back after a couple of minutes.
"Sorry- what were you asking?"
"Did Tony Anderson had any enemies before he died?"
"Well, young man, you don't know these businessmen. They're a hell of a kind of people. All I can help is that Anderson had quite the number of unsuccessful deals. But probably not as bad as to kill him."
"Thanks, Detective," Sam said as he took off to join his brother, waiting outside.
Dean pulled up at the Anderson man's cottage and stepped out of the car. The early July air was damp and warm, making him drowsy. He forced himself to concentrate. They had to make it. Then he could sleep all he wanted in the motel before working next morning.
Tossing Sam a flashlight, the brothers made their way towards the cottage slowly. Sam picked the lock with a few swift strokes, and they slowly stalked in, heading for the bedroom- where the man was killed.
"No EMF, no sulfur. It's gotta be an angel," mumbled Sam under his breath as he covers Dean into the cottage. "Careful, Dean."
"Lights shattered. These guys really know how to make an entrance," added Dean. "Damn, this is seriously expensive stuff. Rich brats and their money. Just, come on. According to that detective, he's just on a trip here."
"I'm sure enough. We can go ask Cas, see if anyone's around, and try to figure things out before he gets the next victim. By now, all the four people killed are rich. Filthy rich. And they ain't the best people ever. I dug into some of the news, and they seem like the sort of people who try to get their hands on as much money as-" Sam reasoned as he and Dean started to go out, only to be stopped by a sudden green arrow trapping the brothers where they are.
"Stay where you are."
"Damn it," cursed Dean under his breath. "Someone got us."
"I've never seen angels using crossbows, Dean. Maybe it's someone else."
"What are you two doing?" the man asked. His voice seemed processed, rather unnaturally deep. Sort of like Cas, Dean thought. Or maybe just some mad ninja. They could handle it. Plus, Cas would probably be mad at him for kicking him out (although nicely) out of the Bunker.
Dean raised his gun. "Well, I think I should be the one asking this. Who the hell carries a bow around in the 21st century? What are you, Robin Hood?"
The connection clicked in Sam's mind, and he slowly tucked his pistol back into the waistband of his jeans, slowly advancing towards the hooded archer.
"What, Sammy, are you freaking insane?" Dean stage whispered.
"Shut up, Dean."
"Dude, I'm serious! You have a frickin' death wish?"
"Just listen to me for once, Dean," Sam retorted. He directed his attention to the guy, who was watching them silently. "You're the Hood, right? I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean, and as much as my brother hates to admit it, we really need your help."
A/N
So what do ya'll think? Leave comments and stuff down here. Seriously. ily all. I'm still figuring out stuff to do with the pjo thing since that was actually the first draft for this one- despite the fandom change and all- so yep
akf x