Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Kashmir ❯ 1: Ace of Spades ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Kashmir

Summary

This story diverges from cannon at 9.23, “Do You Believe in Miracles?”. Instead of going with Crowley, Dean strikes off on his own after awakening as a demon. In his desperation to save his brother, Sam enlists an old family of hunters to track him down and bring him back. As the brothers continue to cross paths with this family of hunters, changes occur in all of their lives that none of them could foresee.

Authors Note

The parings for this story will be Dean/OC, with some Sam/OC in later chapters, and will be mostly from my OC's point of view. Also, because I'm lazy, we are just going to assume that in curing Dean of his demonism, Sam also found a way to cure him from The Mark of Cain. Sorry, but it's just easier. Chapter titles are named after the songs where I drew my inspiration. Eventually, there will be some smut because… well WINCHESTERS. I don't own anything except my OCs.

1: Ace of Spades - Motörhead

It was always a tragedy that brought someone into the life. Every case she had come across, there were monsters, demons, and death. But not her. Her family had been in the life as far back as anyone could trace. She was brought up in it. Thrived on it.

They could only be described as old Southern money. Home base was the family compound, set back on over 400 acres of Mississippi Delta mud. The house was monstrous with so many rooms you could get lost. It was here where she would be educated in the ways of a hunter. She was homeschooled, along with the rest of her clan. Traditional lessons in the mornings and Hunting 101 in the afternoons. This was her life until her 18th birthday when she was formally inducted into the family business. The family insignia tattooed on her inner right bicep would protect and mark her for life.

That was ten years ago. Now, at 28, she was a well-oiled machine; inconspicuous and deadly. At five foot ten, she kept in shape to do her job. She wasn't overly muscular, preferring to keep her curves in all the right places. Long ash blonde hair hung to her waist in loose waves. She was too much of a tomboy to make a fuss over hairstyles, makeup, or clothes. The easier the better was her motto.

She hunted alone. It was their tradition. No ties or distractions, just the job. It was one such job that sent her life on a crash course with the man who would change her irrevocably.

She received her orders from her grandfather, a walking encyclopedia of monster lore and the patriarch of the family. This was not her typical job. She was an exterminator; always sent in for the kill, never to simply observe.

She knew of her target. Her family kept an eye on the brothers, but never interfered. Her task was simple: find the eldest Winchester and assess the situation. They were aware he bore the mark, and of what he had become since battling Metatron. She was to make contact and attempt to return him to his younger brother to be `cured'. Whatever that meat. Simple.

It was well after one in the morning by the time she pulled her Mercedes SUV in the parking lot of the dilapidated motel with the vacancy sign flashing. Sure, she came from money, but she preferred ordinary lodgings that drew no additional attention. After checking in, she prepared to settle in for the night to brace for her mission. Popping the hatch on her SUV, she unloaded her luggage. Lifting the false bottom from the trunk, she removed the hidden duffel she needed to guard her room for her stay. After going through her nightly ritual, she surrendered to sleep.

She awoke to sunlight streaming through the break in the motel curtains. As she munched on her breakfast bar, she opened her laptop to study the files her grandfather had sent. Everything they knew about the eldest brother was there. She couldn't help but stop short as his photo scrolled across her screen. He was attractive, but she couldn't afford to let herself get distracted. As she read through his file, she mentally prepared herself for how to approach her mission.

It was late. Later than she would have liked to be preparing for an assignment, but her intel placed her target at a local bar. She honestly couldn't say she was surprised after researching him. She prided herself on knowing her marks inside and out, and she would treat him no differently.

Her first priority was to keep her identity as ambiguous as possible. Just keep it simple. Her ashen hair hung limply around her shoulders, and her head was covered by a light blue beanie. She donned an old cut-off Motörhead shirt under an open flannel button-up with her dark skinny jeans and combat boots on her feet. She made sure the rosary around her neck, a gift from her mother that never left her skin, was covered. She was ready.

She made her mark as soon as she walked in to the nearly empty bar. He sat alone at a pub table, next to the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey with the half empty bottle sitting close by. She ignored him. That is what thrilled her most about the hunt, letting her prey believe themselves the predator. It wasn't long after she ordered her beer that she sensed him approach. She turned to inspect her company and regarded him with a small, tight-lipped smile. The picture she had been given did not do him justice. If she had ever seen a man she would describe as beautiful, it was him.

He was wearing a light gray tee underneath an unbuttoned black shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His jeans were faded and pooled over worn work boots.

“I would offer to buy you a drink, but I see you beat me to it”

She smiled to herself, but extended her hand anyway. She knew his game.

“Kat. If you hang around, I just might let you get the second round.”

He took her small hand in his larger one. His smug grin gave away his assumed victory as he shook her hand and took a seat next to her.

“Well Kat, I'm Dean. I don't have anything better to do, so I may as well take you up on that.”

The night passed quickly. He seemed genuine enough. If she didn't know better, she would have mistaken him for your average Joe, drinking alone after a rough day. The hair on the back of her neck standing on end kept her in check. She could tell from his demeanor that he presumed she was a done deal. She laughed internally at the thought. She could only image how many innocent girls had fallen prey to his charms.

Several rounds later, she felt as though she had enough information. Phase one was a success. Phase two would be figuring out how to get this wolf in sheep's clothing back to his brother. She planned to casually leave the bar, send her check-in text, and give her full report in the morning. As she finished her beer, she stood and laid her cash on the bar.

“Leaving already? We were just starting to have fun.”

Obviously, this turn of events was not what he had in mind. She gave him the same guarded smile she had been giving him all night.

“Gotta hit the road early in the morning. My family is expecting me home”

Keep it simple. She thanked him for keeping her company as she exited the bar, but he was hot on her heels, not ready to admit defeat just yet. She unlocked her car and opened the door just as he caught her wrist. She turned on her heels, resisting her years of training insisting that she respond to the threat. As she turned, she realized that he was much larger than she had originally thought. While she was tall, he had several inches on her. Her hazel eyes met the column of his throat, then up to emerald-green. He gave her a small smile and held out her phone.

“Left this at the bar. I took the liberty of adding my number. Just in case.”

The wink he added ran a chill down her spine, but she laughed despite herself. This man was trying hard. She knew she had never taken her phone out of the small bag she brought with her, but she wondered how he had gotten it without her noticing.

“Thanks. I swear I would lose my head…but adding your number will do you no good. A gentleman always makes the first call.”

His expression once again gave away his intentions as he pulled a phone from his pocket and placed it in her hand. This was unexpected, but she took his phone and added her primary number. She was curious as to what he would do next. The victorious grin that spread across his face told her all she needed to know. As she once again said goodbye, he let her go without protest. This had gone much smoother than she assumed it would.

Once she was safely back in her motel room, she sent the standard text to check-in and prepared for bed. She was climbing between the sheets when she heard a knock on her door. Call it a gut feeling, but she knew it was him. She gave a small laugh, grabbed her cell, and proceeded to open the door. He resembled a normal guy, the way he was leaning in her door way, but she knew better than to let her guard down.

“Dean… Hi. What can I do for you?”

He smiled the same smile that made her heart race and skin crawl all at the same time.

“Honestly, I was surprised to see your car once I got back to my room. I didn't picture you staying somewhere like this and wanted to make sure you got back alright.”

Suddenly, she had an idea. She had never been one to break from a mission, but this was different. He made it so easy. She already had the devils trap painted on the ceiling, just a few step inside the door. All she had to do would be to get him to his brother. Her mind was made up, deciding that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.

“Yea, fine. Thank you. Look, uh… do you want to come in and have a drink?”

His smile never left his face, thinking that she finally decided to give in to him. When he had first noticed her at the bar, he couldn't help himself. The old Dean pushed his way to the surface, approaching the tall blonde. After talking for a few hours, he realized she was more than a pretty face to sate the darker desires that lurked inside his demon self. She was the kind of girl the old Dean would have been impressed by. Smart, funny, and best of all… educated in classic rock. An unseen force pulled him from his thoughts as he crossed the threshold and took another few steps into her room.

To say he was pissed would be an understatement. The moment he discovered he was stuck in a devil's trap, a vicious snarl ripped itself from his throat. His eyes flashed from emerald to black. She was a little surprised by his reaction, but she held her ground. Black as the ace of spades. At that moment, she had to suppress the snicker that threaten to come out. How ironic to have that song stuck in my head… `The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say…'

“Hunter! You're a hunter? Do you know what I am… who I am?”

“I know exactly who and what you are Dean Winchester. Now, excuse me for a moment, I have to make a call.”

She stepped around the trap and out the front door of the hotel room before Dean could protest. On the second ring, a voice came through the line. After the voice confirmed his identity, she jumped straight to the point.

“I have your brother, Dean. I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if I returned him to you immediately.”

After a short pause, she could hear the anger and veiled concern in his voice.

“Is he alright? What did you do?”

She rolled her eyes despite herself. She quickly filled Sam in on her mission and the events of the evening. In the end, the younger brother sounded almost relieved as she gave him the coordinates for the tiny motel in the middle of nowhere. After promising to be there before noon the next day, she ended the call to return to her room.

Upon her return, she was mildly surprised to find Dean casually lounging on the floor with his arms cradled behind his head, one leg bent at the knee with the other draped across, and eyes closed. She knew better than to think he was asleep, but she ignored him anyway. She was just sliding back between the sheets and reaching to turn out the small lamp when his voice broke the silence.

“So, you're just going to leave me here?”

At that, she laughed out. Does he actually think I'm going to let him in my bed? She was truly baffled as she made her way down the length of the bed, on her knees, to peer over the edge at him. Irritation was all she could discern from his eyes, and she laughed again.

“Really, Dean? What? You think I'm just going to let you out of your trap to crawl in bed with me? I might be blonde, but I'm not stupid. You'll kill me and take off the moment I let you out.”

She had him there, and the look on his face said it all. She was right, and they both knew it. Seeming to resign to his fate, he closed his eyes again with a frustrated sigh. She turned back towards the head of the bed, but in a moment of pity for the human she could see just beneath the surface, she partially caved. Grabbing a pillow, she made her way back towards him.

“Here.”

She tossed the pillow towards him before he had time to fully open his eyes. With a noncommittal grunt, he took the pillow and closed his eyes once more. She shrugged at his silence, but was partially grateful that the evenings events hadn't gone any worse. With that final thought, she killed the lights and tried her best to sleep with the trapped hunter turned demon at her feet.

For the second morning in a row, light streamed through the crack in the curtain as she became aware of her surroundings. She sat up quickly at the feeling of eyes on her. There he was, still trapped, standing at the foot of her bed. Again, choosing to ignore him, she got up to prepare for the meeting with the younger brother.

After checking her phone for the time, she climbed from bed to get dressed. Dean watched her intently. She could feel his eyes on her, but she never acknowledged him. She pulled a bandeau from her bag and, with her back to the demon, pulled it over her legging-clad legs and in place under the cutoff t-shirt she had worn the previous night. Stepping to the sink, she brushed her teeth and pulled her messy hair into a loose braid at the nape of her neck. She secured her beanie to her head and her boots to her feet before grabbing her flannel to cover her bare shoulders. Once again, she carefully stepped around the trap containing the brooding demon. The silence was deafening and the look in his eyes was set to kill. She felt her hair standing on end again as she made her way for the door. Just as she turned the knob to a few precious moments of freedom, his voice snapped her back to herself.

“Leaving me again?”

He huffed and sat impatiently on the floor with eyes closed. He reminded her of a spoiled child, pouting because he didn't get his way. She continued to ignore him as she shut the door behind her, grateful to have made her way out of the room without further incident. Taking a step into the warm sunlight, she took a deep breath. Relax. Only two short hours until the younger brother shows up to get him. On autopilot, she opened the door of her Mercedes and snatched a pack of menthols and a lighter from the door pocket. Lighting the cigarette, she inhaled deeply for a moment. Moving again, she reached into the backseat to grab one of her granola bars for breakfast. She sat on the curb in silence. Smoking and trying to remember why she had thought this was a good idea to begin with.

Thirty minutes later found her opening the door to her room, with Dean in the same pouty position he was when she left. The only acknowledgment she received was his head turning away from her. She rolled her eyes and positioned herself at the end of her bed with her laptop. She had to send in her mission report and catch up on some emails before Sam arrived. She glanced at the clock, and with what felt like the millionth sigh, she realized that she only had a little less than an hour, if the younger one was punctual, to suffer alone with the demon.

She couldn't work like this. He still sat defiantly on the floor, refusing to look in her direction. Her head was starting to ache from the silence.

The loud pounding on the door burst their awkward bubble. She leapt to answer it, and as the door slung open, she was face to face with a broad chest. She had to crane her neck to make eye contact. Before either of them could greet the other, Dean spoke up.

“Little brother, so nice that you're here to rescue me.”

The pair standing in the doorway both ignored him as she pressed the newcomer out of the room and closed the door behind them. After introductions were out-of-the-way, they quickly devised a plan to subdue the demon version of his brother and safely transport him back to the bunker. She decided it would be best to let the younger Winchester take control of the situation.

As he entered the room to subdue Dean with a bullet etched with a devils' trap, she set about getting her car ready to leave. She couldn't help but cringe when she heard the gun fire once, followed by pained yelp, from inside the room. She rushed in to grab her packed bags as Sam carried Dean, in cuffs, from the room and placed him in the trunk of the Impala. The look exchanged between the huntress and the little brother spoke volumes.

Good luck saving him.

Thank you for catching him.

As she pulled away from the motel, she could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. She had made sure there was no evidence of herself or either Winchester left behind. She sent up a quiet prayer for the two brothers as she put more pavement between them. She knew this would be the last time she saw them.