Wow okay so I wasn't expecting to have this chapter done this fast, but I go really excited. So here it is. I hope you enjoy it. Remember, I don't own Supernatural or Baccano and never will.
His green eyes glimmered in the light that filtered in from the windows above their heads. His hair, while appearing dark in the shadowy room full of books, now lit up with blondish highlights. A few freckles dusted the skin across his cheeks, and Luck wanted to reach out and play connect the dots in order to find the shapes hidden within the gorgeous man's face. However, he had to look down to collect his thoughts. It had been awhile since someone had inspired such vivid desires from him, but he couldn't let that cloud his judgment right now. The man, Dean, however attractive he was, was the enemy. At some point in the near future, Luck would probably have to approve the order to kill him.
The four men had moved back into the storage area, a much more spacious room than one would have guessed from looking at the building from the outside. It was the perfect neutral location for a meeting such as this one. Sam and Dean, the false FBI agents, occupied the seats on one side of the table, while Firo sat across from them. Luck stood, not having taken his seat yet, arms crossed and examining the man in front of him again. He knew everyone in the room was waiting for him to speak. However, he didn't want to break the spell of silence just yet.
Apparently Dean did, however. "Listen, Luck," he said the name as if it was the most ridiculous sounding thing he had ever heard. "We need answers. And we want you to be straight with us. We were pretty straight with you already, alright? We're not Feds, we're not going to arrest anyone. We're just trying to keep innocent people safe, and I'm sure you can appreciate that." He grinned, but the sentiment didn't touch his eyes, which remained hard and determined. Luck enjoyed the look in those eyes more than he probably should have.
"Yes, you have been partially straight with us," Luck said, putting his hands on the back of the empty chair and leaning forward slightly. "But, you still haven't told us what you're doing here and why? I know you've been to the Daily Days, looked into the myth of the Rail Tracer, and had some sort of altercation with my brother. Listen, I would like to be civil with you, but I can't do that if you aren't going to be completely honest with me."
"He's right," Firo said, tilting his head to the side in a manner he must have thought looked intimidating, but only accentuated his boyish features. His trusty green fedora sat on the table in front of him, letting everyone see the mop of blonde hair on top of his head. Luck couldn't help but smile at him, before turning serious again. "I don't really want involved in this at all, but you wandered into my Family's territory so I have to ensure that it doesn't happen again."
"Listen, we never came her to get involved in…this," Sam said. He was taller with shaggy hair that reminded Luck very much of a puppy. He long arms were folded in front of him on the table, his brown eyes wide. This boy could probably make people melt to his whims with just a look. Luck wasn't so easy though. "We're just here because we think that something…non-human is responsible for the deaths on the train a few days ago."
"Yeah, and we're more than a little certain that your brother that you speak so fondly of is the one we're looking for," Dean said, speaking again. When Luck turned his eyes to him, the man shifted uncomfortably, then swallowed thickly.
"And how could you possibly be so certain about this?" Luck asked, finally sitting down in front of the green eyed man, and gazed at him with a small smirk on his face. "Are you psychic?"
"No," Dean said, taking a deep breath. "He confessed to us. After you know, trying to kill us in our sleep."
Luck's smirk slowly fell from his face as he leaned back and glanced over at Firo who was just as surprised. Claire had failed to mention that he had told these two all the gruesome details. He sighed, annoyed. "Well, that's really no matter," he said, crossing his arms again. "My brother's actions were justified. And besides, he's human so I don't know why you two even care. Why are you looking for some ghostly murderer anyway?"
"We never said it was a ghost," Dean said. "But the murders aboard that train were not committed by an ordinary human being. I saw the bodies. They were mutilated so bad that some could not be identified as once being humans themselves. You still wanna stand by your dear brother's actions?"
"Yes," Luck said easily. His smirk returned. "You don't know me, Mr. Winchester, and you certainly don't know the things I've done in my many, many years as Don of the Gandor Family." He tilted his head, glancing between the two men for a moment, wondering if he should say the words that danced on his lips. Finally, he gave in and whispered, "Besides, I never said Claire was an ordinary human."
Firo looked at him surprised for a moment, then reached over grabbing his arm, pulling him down so he could whisper in his ear. "What are you crazy…? We can't actually tell them the truth!"
"Why not?" Luck asked, speaking in his normal voice as he pulled away. "It's not like they're Feds, and I doubt they pose any real threat to us." He slowly turned to gaze at Dean again, who stared at him anxiously. "Besides, if they stay around long enough and keep sticking their noses where they don't belong, they'll either find out or we'll kill them first. Which one do you want it to be, Firo?"
"Honestly, I'd rather just call Claire in here and have him get it over with right now," the younger man said, frowning.
"Wait a minute," Sam said, gaining Luck's attention. "What exactly are you talking about…? Are you and Claire…the same…?"
"Yes," the Mafioso said, smirking. "Me. Claire. Even little Firo here. We're all the same."
"I knew it," Dean muttered. He suddenly stood, going for a weapon. Even noticing this, Luck wasn't quick enough to react before he had the barrel of a gun pointed at his head. He stared at it before looking up at the owner, a trace of annoyance on his features.
"I thought we agreed that weapons weren't allowed…?"
"Yeah, well I've never been one for rules," Dean scowled at him, clicking the safety off. "I'm going to wipe you and your scum of a race off the planet and make sure none of you can ever hurt an innocent person again."
"Good luck with that," Luck muttered sarcastically before the gun was fired, bullet ripping through his skull coming out the other side to bury in the floor. He watched the beautiful green eyed man turn to point the gun at Firo as well as Luck fell out of his seat, red blood exploding around him. Then the world went black, if only for a moment.
Claire heard the crackle of voices over the headset he'd been given by Luck for the express purpose of spying on this little sit down. Their petty arguments drifted in one ear and out the other. Nothing could possibly be more boring than this. However, he did understand his brother's frustration. After all, he had promised two dead "FBI agents" and had instead given him two that were angry and very much alive. Still, Claire knew everything would work out for him as it always did. After all, he was a god.
He was, however, a little surprised when he heard two gunshots. According the Luck, he hadn't planned to kill the two, so that could only mean that one of them had snuck a gun in. It was probably the older one: Dean. He seemed just like the type to mess everything up by being overzealous. By any means, this signaled the end of any peace talks and that Claire had to get in there and stop them from leaving just yet.
This put him in a slightly better mood, and he silently opened the window and dropped down into the room. He landed silently and rolled behind a box, peering out over the top at the two men who were now standing over the bodies of Firo and Luck. Sure enough, Dean was holding the smoking gun in his hand. Quietly, Claire leaped over the box and ran at them. Sam turned just in time to see the sole of Claire's shoe as he jumped up and roundhouse kicked him in the face. The tall man went flying, leaving only Dean, Claire, and the gun as players on the field in this battle.
The assassin narrowed his eyes when he saw Dean's furious expression, the gun now raised to point directly at him. He fired two shots which Claire easily dodged, circling around the bulkier man and sweeping his legs out from under him. The gun fell from his grip and Claire batted it away from his foot. It might have been an easier choice, but honestly, guns just weren't very much fun. Too quick and not messy enough.
"If you hurt my brother again I swear I'll kill you, you son of bitch!" Dean shouted as he struggled up to his feet. He threw a careless punch which the ex-circus star easily avoided. "Come on, stand like a man and fight me!"
"Alright, if you want me to," Claire said with a grin. His eyes glinted manically as he waited for Dean to attack again. Once the larger man was a couple inches away, Claire flipped backwards, toes of his boots connecting under Dean's chin and flipping him back the other direction. The assassin landed perfectly on his feet, in a crouch, while Dean tumbled to the ground, head first. When he finally sat up, blood was rushing down from his hairline and into his eyes.
Claire straightened up, hearing Sam stand up from where he'd been knocked earlier. His heavy footfalls announced exactly where he was at every second of his rush toward the acrobatic fighter. However, just as he was about to turn and intercept his attack, the sound of knives unsheathing and a gasp of pain interrupted the planned attack. Claire turned to see Chane standing, blood dripping down her knife and Sam backing away from her, large gash across his upper arm. A warning cut. Well, people always did say that the best relationships are formed when the other person always watches your back. Or was that assassin partnerships? It didn't really matter, because Claire and Chane were both.
Finally, from across the room, the sound of a scraping chair announced Luck's awakening. He stood up, scowl on his face as he straightened his tousled hair back to perfection. By his standards anyway. Firo also stood, crossing his arms and looking positively annoyed. Then again, it was pretty annoying to be shot through the skull. Or at least Claire could assume; it had never actually happened to him.
"Claire, stop playing around with your wife and get these two tied up," Luck said, glancing over as Dean struggled to his feet, obviously dazed by the last attack. Still, he managed to spot Luck and go for the gun that was no longer tucked into his jeans. Then he just stared, confused, blinking his big dopey eyes. Maybe he'd landed harder on his head than Claire had first thought. Sam backed up, watching everyone warily, eyes falling on Luck and Firo with profound disbelief before he shook it away with some effort. He adapted fast, Claire could tell. An amazing asset to have when fighting.
Claire couldn't help but admire these two. The Winchester's, if he'd heard correctly over the headset. Over the past century he'd fought all kinds of people. Some more of a challenge than others. And while they weren't the hardest he'd had to fight, they were certainly two of the most fun. Mainly because they seemed to care about each other so much. It was interesting to see how these two obviously trained fighters reacted so stupidly when they thought the other was hurt.
Claire motioned to Chane to take care of Dean and he ran over, kicking Sam in the stomach in order to drag him back over to the chair where he belonged. Forcing him to sit down, Claire looked over as Chane placed the tip of her knife under Dean's chin and led him over to his seat. He smiled a bit, thinking of the fact that his wife was such a complete badass in a fight, much like himself. Firo went a retrieved some rope and threw it to Claire, which made him snap out of his loving gaze. He tied up the two men, tight enough that he was sure they couldn't get out of it, then jumped up on the table. He took Chane's hand and pulled her over to him before letting her go, smirking playing across his face.
"You didn't have to do that, you know. I could have handled myself. You really don't have to follow me whenever I have an assignment."
She responded by burying on of her knives in the table about an inch from his hand, making him shrug. She threw this little temper tantrums a lot, more and more recently, but he knew that she would never actually hurt him. As he would never in his life consider hurting her.
"Claire, quit flirting focus," Luck snapped at him, all traces of his previous joviality and good mood vanished entirely. "I want answers out of these two and I want them now!"
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