Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Fey Child ❯ Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Now have a timeline. The first chapters took the place of Croatoan and Hunted.

 

Chapter 6

 

“Welcome to Canton Ohio, home of the NFL Pro Football Hall of Fame.” Dean announced as they entered the city.

 

“It's also home to the National First Ladies Library and Research Center.” Sam added with a grin. Dean gave an annoyed huff and turned the radio up. Sam just smiled and continued to go through their research.

“So we have three days to solve this before we run the risk of people getting hurt. The house was bought by the Long family, husband, wife and two young children. So three families killed over ten years, the last owners before that started were the...Masons. Husband, wife and two young children. All reported dead but there's no definite cause listed. So it could be any or all of them. Salting and burning four graves without being caught is going to be tough.”

 

“If we're lucky the spirit will show up when we're digging and then we won't have to dig them all up.” Dean pointed out cheerfully.

 

“You're enjoying this?” Sam stared at Dean.

 

“Well yeah. We're out here hunting down an evil spirit. This is what we do Sammy.” Dean grinned and Sam laughed.

“And remember, just because you're...sturdier does not mean I'm letting you lead.”

 

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Dean watched as Sam was sent flying across the graveyard only to slam through a headstone. To his relief Sam was instantly back on his feet, shotgun raised. Dean forced himself to keep digging; Sam knew what he was doing. At least they knew they had the right grave now, all he had to do was salt and burn dear Mr. Mason.

 

“Dean!” His head shot up at Sam's scream but it was too late. The spirit lifted him right out of the grave and then Dean was following the same path Sam had earlier. Except he wasn't immortal.

 

Sam watched his brother go down and not get back up, rage flooding his body and stripping him of his glamour as it brought his powers to the surface. The spirit actually looked surprised to see him glowing in the moonlight. Sam focused all his rage on the spirit and it began to squirm and wail before it suddenly compressed and then vanished. Sam dropped a match into the open grave as he ran past, dropping to his knees beside Dean's still form. He gently ran his hands over Dean's body, searching for injuries. He swallowed as his fingers came away bloody, from the exact same spot as when he'd been hurt in the vampire nest. Sam cradled Dean to his chest and ran for the Impala.

 

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Sam nearly knocked the door to the room off its hinges as he ran into the room. He gently lowered Dean to the bed and then began cleaning his wound. Sam was trying desperately not to panic as the blood continued to flow no matter what he did.

 

“Dean you need to wake up. Come on Dean don't do this.” Sam pleaded but Dean didn't even twitch. Sam's head dropped to rest on Dean's chest and he listened intently to the sound of his heartbeat. He'd have to take Dean to a hospital, use a small glamour to alter their features and fake ids. He went to take his hands from the wound and his hands brushed through the blood again, only this time something happened.

 

Sam raised his head only to stare in awe as a soft golden light surrounded his hands and the back of Dean's head. Sam watched as colour slowly flooded back into pale cheeks and Dean's breathing became easier. He was so busy watching that he failed to notice his own increasing weakness and so was caught completely unaware when his vision went black.

 

Dean lay still under the weight pinning him to what felt like a bed. Since the weight was breathing he figured it was a person, one that wasn't moving. He cracked an eye open and then went to sit up as he recognised the hair style but Sam's weight held him down. He managed to get an arm free and felt Sam's body for injuries but didn't find any so he tried shaking his shoulder.

 

“Sam? Sammy come on dude, this isn't funny. Time to wake up Sasquatch.” Dean's worry went up several notches when there was no response and he tried to remember what had happened. He frowned as he slowly remembered the graveyard, Mr. Mason showing up and Sam holding his own and then...Sam screaming his name, a feeling of weightlessness and then pain. Okay so he'd gotten hurt and Sam had had to drag his sorry ass back to the motel. That didn't explain why he felt fine and Sam was out cold though. At least his glamour was still in place, that would be hard to explain if anyone had seen them. Dean tried a few more times to dislodge Sam but he couldn't get the leverage so he settled in to wait for the Fey to wake since he couldn't even reach a phone. It wasn't long before Dean drifted off to sleep, his body still tired from the healing and previous fight.

 

Sam groaned and opened his eyes to find himself sprawled over Dean. He jerked as he remembered what had happened, a hand going to check Dean's pulse. He grinned as Dean's eyes snapped open and his hand came up in defence only to drop as he saw Sam.

 

“You okay?” Dean's voice was rough but Sam was happy to hear it.

 

“I'm not the one who looked like he was dying form a head injury.” Sam answered, unable to stop smiling even if he was still very tired.

 

“No, you're the one I found passed out on top of me and refused to wake up. You're too heavy for me to get you off at this angle so I've been stuck waiting for you to wake up. Couldn't even reach a phone to call for help. So are you okay?” Dean frowned in concern and Sam rolled off him onto the bed.

 

“Just tired. I um, think I got a new power, maybe two.” Sam admitted softly.

 

“Really?” Dean rolled so they were facing each other.

 

“Not wondering what happened to your injuries? I had my hands on your head and there was this glow and you started looking better, then I passed out.” Sam explained and Dean thought it over.

 

“Very useful, as long as you can get past the passing out part. That could be dangerous. So what's the second?” Sam relaxed at Dean's reaction.

 

“Not sure. I did something to Mr. Mason though after you were knocked out. I was just so mad and then he sort of started acting like he was in pain, before he sort of collapsed in on himself and vanished. Looked weird and painful. I dropped a match in the grave anyway just in case.”

 

“Okay that one's really useful if we can figure out what you did. Imagine being able to take out spirits without all the digging!” Sam chuckled; trust Dean to point that out.

“What? You know you hate digging.”

 

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“So where to next?” Sam asked as he joined Dean in the diner's booth.

 

“How does Milwaukee sound?” Dean passed him the paper.

“Two robberies, same M.O. and everything. Looks like it could be our thing.” Sam read through the article as he ate his pancakes.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“Milwaukee it is.”

 

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“Why do the cops always have to take the tapes?” Dean grumbled and Sam smiled.

 

“Evidence Dean. The first robbery, a security guard was beaten we should talk to him; see if his story is the same as the one we got from the jewellery store.” Sam studied the house numbers.

“This is it.”

 

“Ugh, friggin' cops.” Sam smiled as Dean couldn't help but continue to complain.

 

“They're just doing their job.” Sam soothed but Dean scowled.

 

“No, they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it. Talk to me about this bank.” Dean said as they walked up to the house.

 

“Milwaukee National Trust -- it was hit about a month ago.” Sam told him.

“Inside job, long-time employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.”

 

“And this guy, Resnick -- he was a security guard on duty?”

 

“Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.”

 

“God…”

 

“Yeah. Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?” Sam called as Dean knocked on the door. A bright porch light almost blinded them.

 

“Son of a…” Dean threw a hand up to shield his eyes for a second.

 

“FBI, Mr. Resnick.” Sam called out as the man approached.

 

“Let me see the badge.” They placed their badges against the glass.

“I already gave my statement to the police.”

 

“Yeah, listen, Ronald. There's just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.” Dean replied.

 

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“Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. You tell that poor son of a bitch that -- what did you say? Remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation? That's messed up.” Dean said as he slumped back on his bed, watching Sam as he dropped his glamour. He'd gotten used to the different features and the soft glow of Sam's skin didn't bother him anymore.

 

“What, are you pissed at me or something?” Sam asked as he set the tape up.

 

“No, I just think it's a little creepy of how good of a Fed you are. Come on, we could've at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here.” Dean shrugged and Sam turned to stare at him.

 

“Mandroid?” Sam scoffed, turning back to the VCR.

 

“Except for the mandroid part. I liked him. He's not that different from you and me. People think we're crazy.”

 

“Yeah, except he's not a hunter, Dean. He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing, he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive.” Sam started the tape.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam wasn't listening as he stopped the tape, pausing it on Juan and his silver eyes.

 

“Shape shifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video.” Sam stated.

 

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those freakin' things.” Dean complained and Sam looked at him.

 

“You think I don't?”

 

“Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder.” Dean sketched as he talked, drawing out a pattern on a map of the city.

 

“Look, if the shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri...“ Sam trailed off.

 

“Then Ronald's right. All right, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. Now, all the robberies have been connected so far, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Sam shifted in his seat and Dean held his arm out, letting Sam settle in at his side. In private like they were the action barely registered with Dean anymore. He'd adapted very fast to Sam's need for physical contact. The second bed was pretty much for show and a force of habit.

 

“To the sewer main layout.” Dean pointed to the map.

“There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main.”

 

“So tomorrow?” Sam asked as he curled closer.

 

“Tomorrow.” Dean replied. He smiled as Sam dropped off to sleep, carefully removing the map and then turning off the lamp. Dean froze as he found himself running his fingers through Sam's hair and then shrugged it off. Not like Sam was awake to know about it and the memories of St. Louis, of seeing himself trying to choke the life out of Sam, always made him want to make sure Sammy was okay. He was not going to let Sam out of his sight tomorrow, there was no way another shape shifter was getting close to him.

 

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“Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, you understand?” Ronald was yelling as Dean and Sam made it back into the main room.

 

“Hey, buddy? Calm down. Just calm down.” Dean called out, trying to defuse the situation.

 

“What? You?! Get on the floor, now!” Ronald looked completely shocked to see them and Sam couldn't blame him. It was annoying that he had figured out the pattern as well though since it made their job harder.

 

“Okay, we're doing that.” Dean assured him as they got to their knees.

“Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.”

 

“I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who you working for, huh? The Men in Black? You workin' for the mandroid?!” Ronald asked and Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Paranoid human. Sam blinked at that thought but pushed it aside since he was more worried about Dean being shot. Though if it came to it he would shield the older man with his own body.

 

“We're not working for the mandroid!” Sam tried in his calmest voice.

 

“You, shut up! I ain't talking to you, I don't like you!” Dean shot him a smirk and Sam grimaced.

 

“Fair enough.” The endured being frisked though Sam glared at Dean for actually being armed even if it was just a knife.

 

“Think you can mojo him or something? We need to get to the manager.” Dean hissed at him and Sam shook his head.

 

“I could drop my glamour but all that will do is expose the supernatural on camera worse than that shape shifter has though everyone in here would be willing to do as I say.” Sam answered back quietly.

 

“What about those illusions? Could you distract him long enough for us to disarm him?”

 

“Maybe. But that won't help with the shape shifter.” Sam shifted nervously. He wasn't that confident in his illusion skills, sure changing Dean so he looked like a girl for a bit hadn't been hard but there had been no pressure either. Sam suddenly went still and tilted his head, listening intensely.

 

“What?”

 

“Police. They're outside and there's a lot of them.”

 

“Just when you think things can't get worse. Can you change us just enough that we can pass as simply looking similar to ourselves?” Sam nodded in answer to Dean's question.

 

“But we'll have to split up and answer to different names or it'll look really suspicious and it's not like I can change or DNA or fingerprints so be careful.” Sam closed his eyes and Dean felt the now familiar flow of Sam's magic. Sam opened his eyes and nodded.

 

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“This is Special Agent Victor Henricksen.”

 

“Yeah, listen, I'm not really in a negotiating mood right now, so...” Dean wasn't really paying attention to the agent on the other end of the line.

 

“Good, me neither. It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus but not necessary.” That got Dean's attention rather quickly.

 

“Whoa. That's kind of harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?” He frowned, that was not good news.

 

“Well, you're not the typical suspect, are you, Dean? I want you and Sam out here, unarmed, or we come in. And yes, I know about Sam, too -- Bonnie to your Clyde.” Dean's jaw almost dropped as the4 Agent said their names. How did he know them? But with Sam's illusion on him and Sam having altered his own glamour...

 

“Look Agent Henricksen, I have no clue what you're talking about. My name is Andrew and the only person I was here with your police friends shot. So sorry but you've got the wrong guy. Now if you'll excuse me I'm kind of busy at the moment.” Dean hung up on the man and leant against the wall. Some Fed knowing their names was not a good thing. Bluffing would only get them so far, especially once they took fingerprints. So they had to get out without being arrested.

 

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Dean put a hand on Sam's back as he closed his eyes. Suddenly `Andrew' came around a corner only to be gunned down by the SWAT team when he raised his own gun. Another figure walked into the room, hands up as much as they could be while helping one of the banks employees. He was quickly taken into custody. Dean could only watch as Sam began to sweat, the strain of holding the illusion and making them solid was taking its toll but it needed to last long enough for the police to leave the bank. Dean wished they would hurry up, squishing the two of them into a ventilation duct was not fun but it was the only place to hide where they would have a relatively clear view of things.

 

They waited ten minutes after the last person had left to leave the duct, Dean having to help a clearly exhausted Sam down and then they headed for the back of the building. No point getting caught when they were almost clear.

 

“How long till my body and you double vanish?” Dean asked softly, thankful the cameras were still out.

 

“Not long. Sorry.” Sam panted.

 

“Hey, you're doing great Sammy. If it weren't for you we'd be in big trouble right now. Though I'd love to see Henricksen's face when they vanish.”

 

“I'd rather be several states away Dean.” Sam let Dean help him into the car and then they left, thankful that they had already checked out of their motel.

“Think he'll still pin this on us with no real evidence since anyone who studies the video closely will see it isn't us?”

 

“Don't know, but he strikes me as the type that might.”

 

“Great.”

 

TBC...