Daughter of Cain
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones
Chapter 26: Dark Dynasty
Vivian's POV
I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I stared down, seeing the Ash Dagger once more. I gasped, looking up, not seeing Cain but Castiel. The angel kept a neutral face as he pressed the blade deeper. I grabbed his hand, my instincts trying to remove the blade, only to stop as the Mark of Cain presented itself on my forearm.
With a twist of the blade, everything vanished into utter darkness.
.o0o.
A scream escaped me as I clung to my chest, feeling the pain there. My body tensed, the trauma consuming my flesh as it tried to figure out the nightmare from reality. It hurt as the searing stab and chest tightened. Desperately, I tried to breathe, trying to regulate, but I couldn't.
The door burst open as the individual was by my side. Opening my eyes to see it was Dean as he tried to wake me.
"Viv, it's just a dream," Dean said firmly as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe."
I tried to breathe, yet the panic attack continued. This dreading doom drowns me as I hyperventilate, my heart pounding that it might actually stop. I couldn't ground myself. As if I was dying, yet alive. Dean sensed this as he adjusted his hold, placing me on his lap while rubbing my back. I cling to his shirt, pressing my head into his chest and listening to his heartbeat.
"You're safe," he whispered, combing one hand through my hair. "You're safe."
Dean knew that my nightmares were of that day when Cain stabbed me. It has been many weeks since the last episode for me. However, this was not Cain, but Castiel, of what will come. It was the deal I made with the angel that any day now, I would transfer the Mark of Cain onto me, and Castiel would stab me with an Ash Dagger. Even though I have accepted it, the trauma of being stabbed once more terrified me. It is why I wanted Castiel to do it. For I don't think I can make Dean or Sam do it.
"You're safe," Dean murmured.
Some time passed before I managed to calm down. We stayed like this, Dean not setting me down, keeping me on his lap. Everything about him enveloped me. His warmth, his scent. As it smelled of soap, beer, and gunpowder. Everything that I was nearly drowning into him. Craving more than this comfort. However, I can't. Dean made it clear that what happened in the motel was a mistake, and the Mark's doing. Dean only sees me as a friend, and what I am feeling now is adrenaline.
"Want to talk about it?" he asked.
I sighed, "It's just the same nightmare."
"Hmm," he replied. "Still…"
"What's done is done," I said. "My body just remembered the pain."
As I covered the scar that was exposed from my tank top.
Dean gave a sigh as he rubbed my back.
I relaxed, leaning into him. Emotions were stirring, and the longing I once had came to the surface. Quickly, I suppressed those emotions and carefully got off of him. I can't have him touch me.
"Vivian," he spoke with concern.
"Thanks," I mumbled. "I'm gonna go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I nodded, for I can't have him nearby. Dean hesitated before nodding. He got up and left my room. I got under the covers and tried to go back to sleep. Yet sleep never arrived.
.o0o.
Fortunately, Castiel called for backup. This allowed me several days to regain my composure. If not, the boys are silent, not needing assistance. It has been the same for the past several weeks, as I did more research and the Winchesters hunting. If not, grab the ingredients for the curse to work with the Ash Dagger. It was emotional to go back to Jasper Spring, Mississippi. During my errands, I would travel to have a quick moment to see the world before going back to the Empty.
This was my choice. My decision was to save Dean and humanity. But…it means giving up. Giving up on life. Hopefully, the Entity will not be displeased to see me once more. If not putting me in a dream, that is a life's worth. Now, thinking about the Empty, I tried to remember what happened there. I had encountered the Cosmic Entity who took the appearance of Abaddon. However, there was another person there. A voice made out of many voices.
The voice gave me a warning.
A warning I could not remember.
I sighed, staring at the sigils that decorated the panels on the walls in the library. No doubt from a nymph culture, yet I couldn't decipher it.
I distracted myself while researching Stynes.
When the Winchesters returned, they informed me what had happened. Apparently, Castiel's vessel daughter was trying to find her mom. Turns out the mom was being imprisoned by a Grigori for two years, slowly feeding off her soul. When I asked if it was a success, dread could be felt that Amelia Novak died protecting Claire, in which the girl was sent to South Dakota to live with a friend of theirs named Jody Mills. The only good news is that the Grigori is dead.
Days go by as Sam comes and goes running personal errands. Dean was doing his research on possible cases. I did the same, and Dean decided to join in on the Styne research. It wasn't until a software program that Charlie made for the Winchesters popped up. An article about a woman killed with her eyes gouged out. Something told me this was Styne-related since the eyewitness said he saw the culprit jump out of a third-story window and run without complication.
Sam soon arrived, coming down the stairs exhausted.
"Wow," Dean greeted.
"Hey," Sam replied, surprised.
"Well, you look like a crap on toast," Dean said.
I snorted at that.
"I just haven't…. really been sleeping well," Sam explained tiredly.
"There's a woman you haven't mentioned?" Dean asked.
I tried not to laugh, especially at Sam's expression.
"A woman?" Sam replied, confused.
"Well, I'm just saying, you weren't here when I went to bed last night," Dean implied. "You've been running on your own a lot these past couple of weeks."
Sam shrugged, "I do that."
Dean stared at him, "You actually don't."
"Dean, we don't always do the exact same thing and at the exact same time," Sam countered. "Remember when you went off and snuffed that vampire nest by yourself?"
"Have you been snuffing vamps' nests?" Dean asked.
"No, I-I…" Sam tried to find his words, then sighed.
"Boys, behave," I said. "Besides, you two have another case."
"What did you find?" Sam asked as he came over.
"So, those goons that were after the book, the, uh, the Stynes, well, the one that we killed said that he had a big family," Dean explained. "Viv has been keeping an eye out; figure we should probably get to know as much as we can about them."
"And?" Sam asked, grabbing the folder.
"Other than screwing with financial markets, helped Hitler and other things," I listed.
"Probably disco," Dean added.
I snorted at that, "And organ trafficking. So far, they go back to the eighteen hundreds, in which Mary Shelley exposed them, resulting in their changed name."
"Changed them, Mary Shelley?" Sam murmured, then stopped. "Are you saying they are the Frankenstein?"
I nodded, "Their crests match with the change in the shield. I think we are dealing with a cadet branch of House Frankenstein. Ones who know how to do body modification. Just recently, a young woman was murdered in Omaha."
"How do you know it was Stynes doing?" Sam asked.
"Victim's eyes were cut out," I answered. "As the Janitor runs in just as the killer jumps out the window."
"That's it?" Sam asked.
"Third-story window," I added. "Last I check, any human jumping from that height would have broken bones or died."
"Look, man, we're trying to stay busy here, okay?" Dean said as he stood up. "Unless you have bigger fish to fry?"
Sam took this information in, hesitating. Knowing the Stynes are a threat and Sam doesn't seem interested, I stood.
"Look, Dean and I are going to investigate this. Can you keep tabs for us," I said.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "You're not one for hunting."
"Let's just say I have some personal issues," I muttered. "
"All right, well, I'm gonna hit it," Dean said, patting me on the back. "You probably should, too. We'll leave first thing in the A.M."
Afterward, Dean left to get ready for the night. Sam watched him leave before looking at me. I could still tell Sam was hiding something, and it wasn't a mistress of the night or a possible girlfriend. However, it was Sam's choice to tell or not. Not saying anything, I left, going to my room to get some sleep. Dean made it clear we were leaving early in the morning.
.o0o.
Dean took the lead in the investigation, and both of us were FBI agents in Omaha. I stood by, taking notes and examining the premises while Dean asked the questions. The building's manager escorted us through the facilities, answering questions.
"Police told me no one was allowed in. That didn't mean the FBI, right?" the manager asked.
"And a janitor came in right after the killing?" Dean asked.
The manager nodded as he unlocked the door to the office.
"Yeah," he said, ducking down the police tape. "He heard screaming –maybe when her eyeballs were scooped out."
Dean and I ducked and entered the medical office.
The manager gestured to the window, "Janitor saw a man jump out the window and run down the alley."
"Is that so?" I asked. "After a thirty-foot drop?"
"That's what it looked like," the manager answered.
"Security footage?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, sure," the manager said as he pulled out his tablet showing the footage. "Uh, but just one of them caught any action. Out in the alley."
It was black and white, of the alley. At first, nothing happened until a man wearing a lab coat and backpack jumped onto the screen. The way he landed showed he had experience in escaping. Significantly when he corrected his posture with ease. That is when I noticed something on the man's arm.
"That's the guy who rented the office," the manager added.
"That's pretty slick for a three-story drop," Dean murmured.
"Can you play it again and zoom in?" I asked.
The manager played the footage again until I asked him to freeze it. Then, he zoomed in on the arm. It was slightly hard to make out, but it looked like the Styne crest on the man's forearm.
"Same ink as the Stynes," Dean noted.
"How long was he renting here?" I asked.
"Uh, just a month," the manager answered. "But I only saw him a day or so. Some sort of clinical trial using student volunteers. He didn't mention eyeballs."
"Hm," Dean hummed. "Well, I guess you're gonna ask about that from now on, huh?"
"Yeah," the manager agreed.
Dean pulled out his business card, "Listen, you, uh, remember anything else, give us a call."
Afterwards, we made our departure. Once we got in the Impala, Dean started driving towards home.
"It's one way to get fresh organs, by luring college students who need money," I said. "They sign up for a clinical trial, and when they least expect it or under the influence, they harvest what they need."
"Well, when you take a few Stynes down, more pop up," Dean said. "I mean, how many are there?"
"Are you really asking that?" I muttered, then sighed. "Two hundred years, all those lives lost in body modification. Let alone their influence in World War Two and the Thule."
"All I can say is, I'm glad we burned the damn book," Dean murmured. "At least they can't get their mitts on that."
"Agreed," I sighed. "The world is already a shitshow, it doesn't need more corrupt bureaucracy."
"Are you hungry?" Dean asked.
I nodded, "I could use a good burger."
Dean couldn't help but grin.
I stared at him, "How are you doing?"
"Oh, you mean the thing?" he gestured to his arm.
"Ya," I confirmed.
"Yeah," Dean sighed, focusing on the road. "You know, some dark thoughts, creepy visions, violent urges. Same old, same old. I'm happy I got a murder to focus on, though."
I frowned at this, though I focused on the road ahead. Maybe after this case, Castiel and I will make the tradeoff. Even if it means forcing Dean to do it. After everything Dean has done, he should not endure this type of torture. Hopefully, not having killed a human can keep Mark long enough for Castiel to stab me with the Ash Dagger.
"How about you?" Dean asked. "Does your chest still hurt?"
"Not since last week," I answered.
Silence engrossed the Impala.
"I know it's hard…reliving that moment…. especially in a nightmare," he continued. "I had my fair share."
"I'm sure you had more traumatic experiences than me," I said. "It's just hard…"
Dean stared at me for a moment.
I grabbed the necklace I wore with my parents' rings. "My father was the worst man alive, and I was his favorite daughter."
"Viv," Dean started but stopped.
"It doesn't help that he wanted me to be the only survivor of his bloodline while a tenth of the population perished," I said. "That I could not see the signs after he killed that Serial Killer. Now, there is blood on my hands."
"You did not kill those who suffer under Cain," he tried to reason.
"No, but my ignorance did," I said, then stared at his arm that contained the Mark. "And I'm going to make this right."
Dean sighed before focusing on the road.
I glanced over the window at the side mirror. There was a car behind us at a reasonable distance. I frowned at this as I kept watching the vehicle following us. I focused on the car for the next ten minutes, during which Dean got off the highway and into a rest area where food chains were. The vehicle did the same.
"We're being followed," I said.
"Are you sure?" Dean asked.
"That car has been following us for the last ten minutes," I answered.
Dean frowns at that, "Pull up a pizza joint, one that is in an alley."
I nodded, taking my phone out to search for a pizza place. One that was in an alley or inner city away from high traffic. When I found one, I put the address on the GPS. When we were getting near, I ordered a pizza from the place and said my boyfriend would be coming by to get it. A slight smirk could be seen from Dean, yet I vanished in a flash.
I kept looking out, seeing the vehicle still following us, along with a second vehicle. They will no doubt try to trap Dean. I doubt the Styne that attacked us several weeks back knows about the Mark. If it is Stynes, still, we need to be careful. When we were near, I teleported onto the roof while Dean went inside to get the pizza.
After ten minutes, Dean came out with a pizza. Not even a second, a truck pulled in, blocking the Impala. Dean, being prepared, was not impressed as he took a deep breath. No doubt the Mark stirring inside him to kill. A man in his twenties came out. Another car, the one from earlier, pulled in, blocking the other exit. As the driver came out, the same man from the security footage. Late twenties to early thirties with short blonde hair and blue eyes.
"All right, hold it right there," Dean warned calmly.
The men continue to approach.
"Hey. Hold it," Dean said sternly, pulling out his gun and firing it into the air.
The men stopped as Dean aimed at the dark hair man, "I said 'Hold it.'"
When Dean glanced back at our suspect, the dark-haired man approached again. Before Dean could react, the Styne kicked Dean and the man grabbed him, yanking the gun away, and tossed him down. The blonde-haired man stood, watching. Dean was soon in a chokehold.
Not liking this, I jumped down in the center in front of the blonde man. The distraction Dean needed, as he grabbed his knife and started stabbing his captor blindly. The blonde stared at me in shock, and I punched him hard in the face, but not enough to kill, causing the man to stumble back. I punched him again, except he caught my fist. He musters all his strength; bending my arm back, I conjured more of my ability, yet not enough to expose myself. This surprised him before I kicked him in the gut. He groaned slightly. Charging in to grab me, I took hold of his arm, twisting around to his back, then kicked him behind the knees, knocking him down.
Dean, who had finished his opponent, rushed over, placing his bloody bowie knife against the man's throat.
"Don't you know it's rude to attack a lady," I panted, trying to keep him down.
"Oh, madam, I can tell yer no lady," he murmured in a Cajun accent.
Before I could respond, Dean punched the man in the face, knocking him unconscious.
I let go as the man slumps on the ground. We stared at each other and then at the dead body. I stared at Dean, noting he was calm and had restrained himself from killing this man. Realizing there was not enough time to continue this discussion, I transfigured the two vehicles into toy cars and the dead body into a porcelain doll. If not, use electromagnetic interference to sabotage any security cameras. Dean grabbed a few cuffs, securing the Styne, if not gagging him, before tossing him in the trunk.
If not, take his wallet. Revealing his ID to be Eldon Styne from Shreveport, Louisiana.
Covering our bases, we got in the Impala and started driving back to the Bunker.
.o0o.
We took Eldon Styne to the Bunker's dungeon. He was awake, so he stood handcuffed to the ceiling. Sam was there as we secured the Styne. We gathered around, staring at the man, who simply stood there nonchalantly.
"Here's how this works. You're strong. I'll give you that." Dean said, walking around Eldon "But you can bleed and hurt just like the next guy, so I'm gonna ask questions, you're gonna give answers, or it's gonna get crazy really quick."
Eldon smirked at that, "Well, I hope you got some time. I'm not the usual breed of cat."
"Neither are we," I said, arms crossed. "Did you kill Eileen MacCormack in Omaha?"
Eldon smirked at me, "Yeah."
Eldon glanced at the ground where a devil's trap was and then at Dean, more precisely his arm, "So it's true. You have the Mark of Cain. My sympathies."
As the Mark of Cain was exposed. Dean rolled his sleeve to cover the Mark.
"That's why you wanted the book –" Eldon murmured. "To remove it."
"We wanted the book because that's where your power comes from," Sam redirected.
Dean walked away from the Styne.
"See, our family business is putting guys like you out of business," Sam said.
"Oh," Eldon murmured. "It's impressive. You two, I can see the resemblance," as he gestured to Dean and Sam. "But her…she ain't kin. In fact, she is not human. Not with that strength. Let me guess, Amazonian…vampire, wraith, werewolf."
"So, you are aware of the supernatural," I said.
"My family is aware of many things," Eldon said. "Let me tell you about my family business. You're way over your head. The family is vast – spread over the world. And that power that you mentioned. Doesn't come from the book. It comes from intelligence and will. The book facilitates."
We all stared at him.
"Stock market dive, recession, 9/11 – - any ring a bell?" Eldon listed. "Arab spring. Didn't break a sweat."
"Okay," Sam replied, holding back his anger. "Why?"
Eldon scuffs, "Well, you got to be in it to win it. You see, chaos breeds fear. Fear breeds panic, and panic breeds desperation, and there's always profit to be made from desperation. You make a big enough mess. It has to get cleaned up. And we've been in the fix-it business for a thousand years."
"Since the Dark Ages," I assumed.
"Since the crusades, and business has never been better," Eldon said.
Suddenly, Sam's phone rang. Sam quickly pulled it out, staring at his screen before excusing himself. Dean was not pleased, while I focused on the Styne.
"Now, for the last eighty years, we haven't had the book," Eldon said. "With the book, we're unstoppable."
I tried to calculate what happened eighty years ago. It was during the Great Depression, as the Nazi regime was rising in power. The corruption that made millions suffer, either economically or religiously.
"You forgot the organ trafficking," I murmured, keeping my composure. "You killed Eileen for her eyes."
The Styne was impressed, "That whole situation – unfortunate." As he clicked his tongue. "We normally never leave a body when we harvest."
I glared at him.
"It's a family specialty – bioengineering," Eldon continued. "Surgical enhancement. And I'm into talking about nose jobs."
With his free hand, he lifted his shirt, exposing the surgical scar that went down from his chest to his navel.
"See?" Eldon praised. "Two hearts in here. Bunch of extra muscles, especially in the legs. Every man in the family's has a little something." He lowered his shirt and vest. "Pretty much what you'd expect, though, given the family tree."
"Frankenstein," I seethed in the traditional accent of origin.
"The name was altered out of necessity," he murmured. "You have chanced upon a lineage with a long and proud tradition…and some unwanted notoriety. One of Europe's oldest families. I applaud you for knowing us."
I gave a dark chuckle, "You may come from an old family, but yours is not the oldest."
He smirked, "And what is yours?"
I grinned, "I come from the House of Hā·'ā·ḏām."
Eldon's eyes widened before his smirk turned into a Cheshire grin.
"Must be a shame for Mary Shelley exposing you," I murmured.
"She spent a few nights in Castle Frankenstein, stumbled upon our secrets, and forced us to change our name and go underground," he said.
"So, why didn't Shelley go public?" Dean asked.
"She wrote a book," he barked, then regained his composure.
"The Modern Prometheus," I taunted.
"Doesn't get more public than that," he agreed bitterly. "But no one believed it to be true, just like no one's gonna believe you."
I hummed to that.
Dean made his way over, "Well, as long as we believe, that's enough."
"Yeah, well…as mighty as I'm sure your little family is, mine is a juggernaut." Eldon countered. "We're not ordinary men. We're Spartans."
Dean pulled out his bowie knife, "But you aren't immortal."
"What we are is expendable," Eldon challenged casually. "I go down, there's an army of replacements behind me."
"And where does this army call home, hm?" Dean asked. "Who's Big Daddy Frankenstein?"
"Were you here when I mentioned that we're underground?" Eldon taunted. "There are secrets. "
"Well, I'm swell at uncovering secrets," Dean sarcastically said, walking around the Eldon.
I remained where I was, arms crossed, staring at him. He stared at me, evaluating in those blue eyes.
"You give me the book, and it conceivable that we could have a conversation," Eldon murmured.
"The book?" Dean asked, amused. "Dude, we don't have the book. The book was burned."
Eldon expressed something as if he knew the truth, "The book is protected by a spell. It's eternal. It cannot be destroyed."
Dean was behind Eldon, and I could see his expression. I kept my mask on, yet I could sense Dean's emotions, and he could sense mine. During the last several months, we believe the book was destroyed. An object that can manipulate us with ease and without hesitation. Then I thought about the Werther project, the book that was in the vault…why those scriptures looked so familiar. It was written in the same language as the Book of the Damned. A Codex.
The last time the Book of the Damned was seen…Sam had it in his hands. We saw him toss the book into the fireplace, and its presence vanished. I tried to remember that. Remembering Jacob Styne saying Sam was a silly boy. If Sam did not burn the Book of Damned….it all makes sense. The errands that were late in the night. The weird hours that Sam has been absent. Sam was translating the book away from us. Dean and I would have sensed it if he had done it in the Bunker.
Excusing ourselves, we left the dungeon and went to find Sam.
"Look Cas, I got to get back," Sam whispered. "Handle this. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Sam turned the corner, hanging up his phone, only to be startled to see Dean and me.
"What are you doing?" Dean demanded.
"Uh…something came up," Sam replied, trying to regain his composure.
"What?" Dean demanded.
"It's handled," Sam assured, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, what's going on in there? Get any more out of him?
"House of Frankenstein and a lot of information," I confirmed.
Dean nodded and then said, "Let me ask you something."
Sam was hesitant until there was a loud slam.
Quickly, all three of us rushed to the dungeon to see a trail of blood along the hallway. We stopped in the dungeon to see the lone hand that was cuffed dangle off from finger to elbow. It was not a clean cut, but it held bite marks.
"He bit his arm off," I said in disbelief.
The Winchesters agreed.
.o0o.
In the following hours, Dean and I searched for Eldon. We followed a blood trail all the way to the road that led to the city until there was no more blood. The amount of blood loss would have killed any ordinary man. However, this man claimed he had two hearts and extra muscles, especially in his legs. Either Eldon found a way to cauterize the wound, or he knew how to stop blood flow.
We continued our search and found no body. Thus, we returned to the Bunker, where Sam was doing research in the library.
"Hey," Sam greeted. "Any sign of him?"
"Lot of signs – just no him," Dean answered. "We follow the blood trail, which by the way, was like the Mississippi – till he ran dry."
"Meaning what? He bled out?" Sam asked.
"Meaning that the trail stopped," Dean answered. Standing in front of Sam. "Vanished. Nada. He sure must have thought he was gonna win that one, 'cause, phew, was he gabby."
"Indeed," I said, staring down at Sam.
Sam avoided our faces, staring at the papers that were on Frankenstein and Styne's family.
"Well, I've been going through everything we have on the Frankenstein, and it's just like Eldon said," Sam murmured. "I mean, a thousand years of nasty. They made tone mopping up the black plague. They started the Hundred Years War."
"You know, I thought, 'Man, there's a lot of them Stynes,'" Dean said. "You know, it's like, uh, Alpha-male central. And then I thought – and this is key – I thought, 'this is bad, but it would really blow if these guys had the book. At least they don't have the damn book.'"
Sam's posture and expression changed.
I rested my hands on the table, getting in Sam's face. "Good thing you burned the book. Is that right, sugar?"
Sam cleared his throat.
"One thing about cocky men, they can't stop talking, especially about things we don't know," I murmured. "Dean, what did Eldon say about the book?"
"He says that the book can't be destroyed," Dean announced. "Says it can't be sliced, diced, shredded, burned, drowned. Cannot be destroyed. Ain't that crazy?"
Sam remained silent.
"But wait, we saw something burn," I added.
The phone suddenly vibrated on the table, showing the caller ID as Castiel.
Dean and I stared at the phone before staring at Sam, challenging him.
"Sam, you answer that, so help me…." Dean threatened.
Not hesitating, Sam quickly picked up the phone. "Hey."
"Sam, she's gone," Castiel said in a panic.
"Who's gone?" Sam asked.
"I've looked everywhere," Castiel said, slightly panicking in his monotone voice. "Charlie is gone."
I may not know Charlie personally like the Winchesters, but I was about to kill Sam for putting her in this mess.
"You dragged Charlie into this!" I bellowed. "Now she's missing!"
Dean's eyes widened with rage.
Sam hung up on Castiel. Before Dean could reply, his phone rang again; this time, it showed Charlie. Quickly, he answered his phone. I listen closely.
"Charlie, where are you?" Sam asked.
"Um, a—a motel – t-t-the blackbird," Charlie answers in a panic. "Sam, someone is here. T-Th-They think I have the book."
"If you have the book, give it to them," Sam instructed.
"Charlie has the damn "book of the Damned'?!" Dean exclaimed.
"No, I don't have it, I just – I-I – I have my notes," Charlie quickly said.
"Then give them your notes, Charlie!" Sam yelled. "Give them the code – whatever they want!"
Dean took the phone, left the library, and headed to the main entrance. "Charlie, I don't know what the Hell is going on, but you need to listen to me. Give whoever that is whatever they want. You understand?"
Sam and I followed Dean.
"I can't do that, Dean," Charlie mumbled.
Suddenly, her end went silent.
"Charlie!" Dean barked, then cursed. "Viv?"
"On it, the blackbird?" I asked to confirm.
Sam nodded.
The moment I was outside, the Bunkers wards were lifted, and I teleported to the location where Charlie was. There was a storm outside. The rain poured hard, with thunder and lightning. I ran towards the motel, searching every door that showed any sign of forced entry. When I reached room five, I saw blood on the white door. The lock and frame were destroyed because they had been busted down. I rushed in, seeing the bedroom in shambles and bloody footprints on the floor.
"Charlie!" I called out.
I checked the closet, found it empty, and went to the bathroom.
Blood on the tile. A flashback when I found the serial killer dead in the bathtub. Seeing Cain's confirmed victim. Only this time, it was not the serial killer who lay dead. Instead, it was Charlie with her left arm gone. Her heart rate faints as her eyes slightly open. Quickly, I rushed over, getting her out of the tub and onto the floor.
"I… had…too…" she mumbled.
"No, save your words," I ordered, going into combat nursing mode.
I removed my belt, forming a tourniquet over the stump of her left arm. I tighten it to the best of my ability. She winced, yet she lost a lot of blood.
"Tell Dean…I'm…sorry," she whispered.
Suddenly, her heart stopped. Cursing, I started performing CPR. I have to keep her heart pumping, trying to keep her alive. Repeatedly, I pounded her chest, taking every thirty chest compressions before pinching her nose shut, taking a breath, and completely sealing over her mouth, trying to bring her back, putting air back to her lungs before returning to chest compression again.
I need to get her stable.
Blood on the tile.
I shook my head, shutting off my sense of smell, and focused the rest on Charlie. This situation could not be done with an ambulance, not in the way to explain how she lost her arm. Let alone the risk of teleporting her to the hospital that it might actually get her killed. I need to stabilize her enough so the Winchesters can get here and take her to the hospital.
But her pulse was dropping.
Cursing, I pound harder.
"Charlie!" I exclaimed.
I continued until I heard people enter.
"Oh, God," Sam gasped before gagging.
I looked up and saw Sam and Dean standing there.
I stared at them as tears fell. After twenty minutes of CPR, I could not resuscitate her.
"Charlie," Dean whispered.
"I'm sorry," I cried. "I couldn't save her."
Blood on the tile.
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