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Entry tags:
Captivus, Part II, Supernatural, PG-13, Keeper!Verse
Fandom: Supernatural, Keeper!Verse
Title: Captivus, Part II (Other Keeper!Verse stories can be found Here
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, John
Rating: Overall PG-13 (with a touch of R in places)
Word Count: 17, 972 (total)
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shotofjack, who bought me in the Sweet Charity auction. She asked for Keeper Verse and a look at Dana actually growing up and working with Sam to rescue Dean. So, this is Dana at 16, half way to seventeen. A dream offers the Winchesters two hunts at once, though with John suffering with a broken arm, and Sam hurting from a life time of physical abuse, it's time for Dana to step up to the plate. When Dean's hunt goes terribly wrong, it's up to Dana and Sam to figure out why and rescue him, before it's too late.
A/Ns & Warnings: Unfortunately there is no sex here, though there is some nakedness. There is also a fair amount of schloomp and not a small amount of angst. This story is complete and will be posted in sections because LJ won't let me post it as one.
It was nearly dawn before John came in from the car. Dana was dozing in Sam’s arms. “You’re all set. I’ll follow as soon as I can get the garage set up to run without me. I’ve already called Bill.”
Sam would argue, he knew Dean had concerns about John going down there with the arm in the state it was in, but couldn’t bring himself to. “Thank you. We’ll get set up, do some recon.” He rubbed a hand over Dana’s arm. “You ready, honey?”
She drew in a breath and stretched, nodding slowly. “Why don’t you go in and splash some water on your face, take care of everything and get Aristotle in the car. We’ll drop her off at Missouri’s.”
“You need anything else, Sam?”
“No Dad. I’ve got this. I’ll see you down there.”
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
Sam smiled up at him, pulling a worn leather bracelet from his pocket and snapping it around his right wrist, closing his eyes as the old magic mixed with the new he’d worked a little while before in the bathroom. The glamour settled over him, banishing the scars and with it came a brief respite from the pain and fatigue. He’d pay the price later, but it would give him a good thirty-six hours without the agony he’d been in the last few days.
“I’m good.” He stood up, relishing the ease of movement. Aristotle followed Dana closely as she came out of the hall with her leash. Sam let his eyes sweep the room, hoping he wasn’t forgetting something important.
They had left Aristotle in Missouri’s care, and accepted bags full of food she pressed on them, and were finally on the road when Dana tapped the bracelet with one finger.
“Haven’t seen that in a while.”
“Nope. Haven’t needed it in a while.”
“Why now?”
He sighed. He knew she could probably feel the difference, the extra something. “Small towns…people can be strange, Dana, and scars like mine make them uncomfortable. We need all the help we can get.”
“Don’t think I don’t know there’s more.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “If I pulled a stunt like that, Dad would ground me for a month.”
He had to agree. Dean would. “I know what I’m doing Dana.”
“I hope so.”
Hold on Dean. We’re coming.
It was Sam’s voice…though how that was possible Dean wasn’t sure. He opened his eyes slowly, knowing things weren’t good. Not good. That was an understatement.
He was hanging. Spread eagle on his stomach. Suspended by a rope harness. He took a deep breath and wiggled, testing the limits of his bondage, but he was pretty secure.
The room was fairly dark, but he thought the floor under him was moving. He closed his eyes, cursing whatever drug they’d hit him with. When he reopened them, he tried to focus on whatever was under him.
The lights came up unexpectedly and Dean flinched, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Hey, he’s awake.”
Dean looked toward the voice, blinking in the bright overhead lights. “I don’t know what you’re playing at kid.”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand and Dean couldn’t speak. He tried, but nothing came out. Fuck.
The two “parents” appeared then. “Go finish your homework, Paul.”
The woman was pretty, in that unholy and going to bleed you dry sort of way. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, her eyes black, her lips painted red. “Look baby, they’re almost ready.”
Dean followed her eyes to the floor beneath him and really wished he hadn’t. A half-dozen…eggs, for lack of a better name, were cocooned in a nest of blankets beneath him. The smell of sulfur filled the air as the slimy coating of one started to crack.
“Patience, my dear. If we cut him too soon, he’ll be dry too fast and we’ll have to get another…”
“Maybe the other one will come,” she said excitedly. “Imagine giving them that much power…They’re so beautiful.”
Dean was going to be sick. Especially when she squealed as the first one began to open, a tiny, red skinned claw reaching up out of the oily shell. Not good. He decided that his first assessment was the best for the occasion.
They pulled into Garmont at around ten on Sunday morning. Dana was asleep as they drove up to the only motel in town, but she was awake when Sam came out with a key. “Your father’s registered here, but no one’s seen him since he checked in yesterday morning.” Sam said as he got into the car. “The impala’s not here.”
“It’s….outside the drug store.” Dana said, her eyes a little glazed, unfocused. “Dad’s…not far…hidden…damn.”
“The kid’s good.” Sam said for her and she nodded. “I brought the spare keys, want to go get the car?”
She smiled. “Dad never lets me drive it.”
“You’ve got your license Dana, and I’m not walking the mile and a half to get it. Straight back though…and if you tell your father I let you drive it, I’ll tell him about the little thing with the school skipping a few weeks ago.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “Deal.”
He dropped the keys in her hand and moved to their room. “I’ll get us set up.”
Sam moved into the room, dropping duffel bags onto the first bed and going back for the rest. When he had everything in and the door shut he exhaled slowly and sank to a seat on one of the beds. His hands were shaking as he pulled them through his hair.
He hated to admit to Dana or his father how scared he was. These kinds of demons didn’t get gifted kids given to them. They stole them. Usually to…do things he didn’t want to think about…and if they wanted a psychic…but were happy to have Dean…
At least it narrowed down the list. Off the top of his head he could think of 4, maybe 5 kinds of demon that could be responsible. There could be more, but…the reasons they’d want a psychic or hunter weren’t pleasant no matter what kind they were.
From the ones who just liked to fuck with humans…tormenting them for no other reason than to break them…to the ones who wanted certain kinds of humans to possess…to those who wanted them for breeding.
Sam shivered. Hybrids still shook him. Of course, the worst were the Harriers…who were bred from several kinds and classes of demons…but they weren’t alone…and the ones that mixed human DNA with demon…Sam shook his head. No. They could rule those out. They usually required a human mother, not father.
What he did know was that they were planning on bleeding him. Probably slowly. The set up he saw would restrict the flow of blood. Probably designed to draw out the process…though whether that was just to cause more pain or for some other purpose, he wasn’t sure. Sam reached for the bag with the books, and opened the Davers text, skipping to the back and skimming through the index, before turning to the section on lower level demons.
He looked up when Dana knocked, then the door opened and she came in. He raised an eyebrow. “Practicing,” she said defensively.
“Just don’t get caught.”
“It beats picking locks with those little tools of yours.”
“All right, Ms. Smarty Pants. Why don’t you figure out which room is your father’s, and practice on his door? Maybe he left the compendium in there.”
“Really?”
Sam put the book down and looked at her. “This is the real thing, Dana. Not training, not practice. This is the real world, where you have to make decisions about when and how to use your gifts. This is what we’ve trained you for. It’s now or never.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
Dana knew she could handle something this simple. It was a matter of sniffing out her father’s…essence. That something that lingers over items, marks them as belonging. Psychic ownership. It was a forty room motel though…and she didn’t want to look like she was casing the joint looking for a room to break into.
Which is exactly what she was doing.
She walked slowly along the bottom floor of the block their room was in. Five rooms down. Nothing. Around the back, another five rooms. She could feel Sam. She was directly opposite their room. He was…shaking. His whole being was shaking.
Dana exhaled and gathered herself. She had a task to do. Sam had made it clear he would handle himself. She couldn’t offer him the help he needed. He knew what he was doing. She had to believe that. Because the last time she hadn’t believed it, she’d done terrible things to him.
She made it to the end of the block and looked up. The second floor, another ten rooms. Still nothing. She stopped, leaning on the balcony railing, gazing out into the woods. Like she was just a tourist, trying to get a feel for things…see the sights. Nothing to be suspicious about.
She was half way down the other block of rooms when she felt it. Like a tremor…a glimmer of her father…not really him…she stopped beside room 24, resting her palm on the door. She needed to be sure, not just go barging in.
That was when she felt it.
Right room. But she wasn’t getting into it. Not easily. She could unlock the door, but there was something else…and she couldn’t tell if it was something he did, or someone else. She chewed on her lower lip and tried to feel her way around it.
It was good. Not perfect. She could get through it eventually.
But it would mean lingering there, in front of a room that wasn’t hers. She turned her back to the door, pressing both hands against it, her eyes skipping over the parking lot, falling on the impala.
The energy of it tingled on her palms. It felt vaguely familiar. Like….The door to their room opened and Sam was there, looking at her. She stepped away from the door immediately. He was pale and she could see from across the parking lot he’d found something.
She jogged to him and he pulled her inside. “What were you doing?”
She frowned at him. “He’s got some…psychic lock on the door.”
“I could feel you, even with the wall up. Fuck, half the town probably felt it.”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just searching out the boundaries…so I could get through it.”
“Your father couldn’t do that Dana. He knows some simple spell work…but nothing like that.”
She blinked at him…but of course he was right. She bit her lip. “Fuck.” She blushed red. She’d blundered. Again. The trap had been meant for her. Maybe not her specifically, but they wanted a psychic…and she’d sent her father. Then they marked his door…content to use him, but happier still to get the one who’d sent him.
“I just let them know I was here, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes. Yes it is. I didn’t think. Again. Fuck.”
“Calm down Dana. We’ll be fine.”
“I should know better.”
He raised both eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “So…are you going to stand there and pout about it, or get with the helping?” He held up the Michaels text and she rolled her eyes before reaching for it.
“Don’t suppose it would help to try to find the text of the compendium online?” Dana asked a few minutes later, looking up from her spot on the floor between the beds.
Sam frowned. “I doubt it. Magical and demonic texts are notorious for being archaic. I’d be surprised if anyone would be willing to put anything like that out where anyone could stumble across it. We’re not even supposed to know it exists.”
“No? Then why did Papa have it, instead of keeping it in the trunk?”
“Because, he needed it for something, and no one knows we have it…and stop asking silly questions and read.”
He had that annoyed tone. The one he got when she asked too many questions or pushed too deeply into private territory. She put the weighty book on the floor and got up to get her laptop.
Sam watched for a few minutes as she got settled on the floor. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me.” Dana said, her tongue sticking through her lips as she finessed her way onto some errant wireless network.
His cell phone rang before she stopped typing and he flipped it open after seeing it was his father. “Hey…no, we’re here. The Forty-Acres Motel, on Main.”
He closed the phone and looked back at Dana who was squinting at her screen. “That was Dad. He’s about twenty minutes away. He’s gonna bring lunch.”
She nodded distractedly, flipping open the Michaels with one hand while she scrolled down whatever was on the screen with the other. He’d seen that look before. She was on to something.
Dean wiggled his fingers and his toes, just to make sure they were still working. His ankle twinged, and it almost felt like he might have broken it, but in his current position, he couldn’t see it.
Daylight filtered into the room, which he could now see was some sort of shed or work space. The floor was cement, what he could see of it under the bloody, slimy mess below him.
All of the eggs were hatched, six…monstrous spawn had climbed from their grotesque shells of soft tissue and slime. The proud parents had poked him with…something, six pronged and deadly…and blood had spurted out of his chest onto the disgusting creatures, the woman squealing with glee as they reached up with open mouths and he was lowered so that the blood flowed into them.
He’d passed out to the sound of her cooing to her babies and the feeling of a hand passing over the wounds. He was a good four feet off the ground again as he came to…out of reach of the little bastards.
He had his voice back, judging by the noises he’d made as he woke. Not that he figured he’d get to use it much. At least he knew what they wanted him for now. He got the dubious honor of being their fucking wet nurse.
And the kid, Paul. He was certainly abused, but not in any hurry to escape. He was powerful. Not like Dana, but that would come with time. He’d learned a lot about these things in 16 years with Dana and Sam.
Dana and Sam. Who were probably looking for him. Dean wiggled around in the demonic hammock and tried to get free. He was so intent on his exploration of the knots and ropes that he didn’t hear the door open.
“You’re wasting your time.” Paul said.
Dean looked at him, his eyes snapping over his dusty blond hair, freckles. “I know a thing or two about knots, kid.” Dean said, turning his attention back to his left hand.
“Maybe. But it’s still a waste of time. Those aren’t regular knots…and you’re a pretty regular guy…for all that you are a hunter.”
“What would you know?”
“My daddy was a hunter.” Paul moved further into the shed, cocking his head as he watched Dean struggle. “Who is she?”
“She who?”
“The one who sent you? The one who was dreaming about the ghost?”
“Like I’m telling you.” Dean pressed his face into the rope running under his head, feeling it scrape across stubbly cheeks, burning.
“She felt like you…so she’s related…sister, maybe?” Paul moved still closer. “Younger though. Angie says I had a kid sister, but I don’t remember.”
“Yeah?” Dean looked at him. It was hard to be angry with him. There was just too much that reminded him of Sam. The Sam he met in Palo Alto. Trying to exert his independence, yet blindly loyal to the only thing he knew. “How’d you end up here?”
“My daddy sent me away. Found out I had these powers. Called me a freak. Donnie found me.”
“Nice. You realize they’re demons, right?”
Paul shrugged. “They’re good to me.”
Dean squeezed out a laugh. “If that’s what you call those bruises.”
“Boys need discipline.” Paul recited to him.
“Right. And that means beatings.”
“Sometimes. So, sister?” He squinted at Dean and he could vaguely feel…something…like just before Dana touched his mind. He consciously pulled his mind as much behind the wall Sam had helped him build as he could.
“Dana, eh? I like that. But she’s not your sister is she?”
Dean stared back at him and the kid smiled. “You’re pretty good. She must have taught you stuff. That’s cool. Maybe Angie will let me play later.”
“Oh, yeah, something to look forward to.” Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You want something to look forward to?” Paul smiled, but Dean didn’t think he looked happy. “They grow fast. Feeding’s every few hours now…but as they grow, they require more. By tonight, they’ll have their teeth, and we won’t need to poke you…they’ll just drop you down so that you’re in reach. They’ll eat the flesh off your bones, little by little. Last time I had to keep silencing the guy. He screamed like a girl. Then he wasn’t even enough, they lost like half the litter because he wasn’t strong enough. If you’re lucky, you’ll be dead before they get to your organs.”
“Thanks, that’s…very helpful.” Dean managed to keep his voice even, with a touch of humor still in it.
“So…I came down because it’s my job to keep you fed and shit. You don’t get much, but I got protein shakes. It’s less messy than trying to actually feed you anything. I’ve got chocolate and vanilla. Which do you want?”
Dean stared at him, incredulous. “What?”
“They both taste like shit, but you know…last meals and all? You should get a choice.”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “Surprise me.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
And just like that, he was alone again, staring at the place where the boy had been standing.
Sam felt it first, an odd questing feeling that he didn’t recognize at first. Dana. Just like that. Her name, floating in that space that wasn’t dream and wasn’t awake.
Her head snapped up, and he reached for her mentally. She latched onto him almost automatically, and together they erected a barrier of sorts. What was that?
Sam looked at his father, who was watching them, realizing something was going on. Don’t know.
“Sam?”
“Hang on a sec. We’re trying to—“
I know you can hear me Dana.
“Shit.” Sam sat up, strengthening the barrier, even as he pulled his father inside it, both physically dragging him closer and mentally, extending the wall around him. “Dana, look at me. Don’t listen to it.”
Her green eyes were wide when they met his. “It’s him,” she said, letting him take her hand. “He found me.”
“Him?”
Sam nodded. “The one who gave Dana the vision that brought Dean down here.”
We have him Dana. He’s already bled for us
Dana blanched white as an image of Dean came, trussed up in some harness and bleeding, his face contorted in pain.
I can give him back to you.
“Dana, honey, don’t listen.” Sam said, dragging her eyes back to his. “He’s trying to trick you.”
“Sam…Dad.” Her voice was anguished and he squeezed her hand.
“I know, baby, I know. Hold on.” He flipped up something of the wall between them and blasted mentally at the kid, pushing him away almost violently.
Dana sagged back against the dresser and nodded weakly.
“What was that?” John asked, moving back to the bed.
“I…encouraged him to go bug someone else.” Sam said.
“I don’t like this kid.”
Sam looked at him and nodded, but it wasn’t that easy for him. “He’s definitely wherever Dean is…or has been recently.”
Dana picked herself up shakily. “I…I’ll be back in a minute. I think…maybe…I found something.”
Sam pulled one hand through his hair and paced. “Shit. This kid is good, Dad. Good.”
“No. Not better than Dana anyway. Maybe a match for me. But he’s cocky. He’s never met someone like himself before. Not someone who can defend themselves.” Sam turned and exhaled slowly. “He’s…just a kid. If…if they raised him…like I was raised, he probably is only barely conscious that what he’s doing is wrong.”
“You haven’t even met the kid and you’re making excuses for him?” John asked.
Sam shook his head. “No…not excuses. I just. I used to be that kid.”
John stood and came to where Sam stood near the door. “No. Sam. By the time you were his age, you were a victim…you’d been…”
“And we don’t know that he hasn’t been. I doubt low level demons like these two have access to Harriers…but it doesn’t have to be Harriers to be bad.”
Sam pushed away memories of exactly what he’d been at fourteen…of what he let himself become. Dwelling on that wouldn’t help him, or Dean.
Dana came out of the bathroom, still looking pale. “So…I…did some searching…and I came up with two probable culprits. Both of them are…bad.”
She picked up her laptop and put it on the bed. “The give away is the harness. I wasn’t sure before…but now…” She shook her head and Sam felt her push her fear into a corner to be dealt with later. “It’s called a feeding hammock.” She clicked a picture and an image filled the screen. “You can see why.”
A middle aged man was suspended in the harness, arms and legs spread, rope conforming to his body on all sides, holding him naked and helpless over a…nest…of what might to an untrained eye, look like baby birds…big damn birds…but Sam knew better.
“Carrion demons?” How the hell had they gotten loose?
“Sam?”
He shook his head and paced away. “I said bottom feeders, but this? Generally, they’re…harvesters. They’re kept on leashes by higher order demons. They eat flesh…usually of the soul their harvesting.”
The thought of Dean in the hands of…”They’re part of the cocktail that Harriers come from. They’re mean and nasty and the most vile hell spawn capable of taking a human host.”
Dana flipped the screen. “Two kinds I found. Not sure what the differences are, other than how they spawn.”
“What does this mean, for Dean?” John asked, his eyes flipping between Sam and Dana.
“Both have a gestational period of eight weeks, after which the one lays eggs and the other gives birth. Both have between 2 and 12…babies.” Dana mouthed the word like it was distasteful. “The eggs lay for another three weeks, then start hatching. When they’re out…they need blood for the first seventy two hours, then a mixture of blood and flesh.”
“He’s a strong one, baby. He’s going to make our babies grow up big and happy.”
Dean’s eyes rolled toward her. The kid had put the whammy on him when he couldn’t help but yell as six little mouths bit into him. Not that he would have known what to say. She squatted in front of him, cooing at the monsters sucking blood out of him.
“Paul says the other one is here. That she’s quite powerful.”
Her eyes glittered as she stood and moved back to the man. “We could have more…by the time Gonle finds us, we’ll have an army. They won’t be able to make us go back.”
“Gonle isn’t finding us anytime soon, darling. We made sure of that when we found Paul.”
“Yes, but eventually he’ll be old enough to feed a full litter. All twelve…can you imagine, darling? Two full litters brought to adulthood on the blood of power? They’ll be unstoppable.”
“And raised by us instead of some overlord, they’ll be loyal to us.” Dean watched as they kissed and groaned, even though no sound came out. “Now…let’s not let them over feed…or he’ll die before his time.”
Dean felt his body jerk upward, felt little mouths clamoring against his skin for just a little more, then the dark swooped in on him.
Sam sat up with a jerk. The dreams were worse than they’d been in a while, all mixed up with imaginings of Dean and what he was going through. His father was asleep beside him. Dana sat on the other bed, still awake, the laptop in her lap, tears rolling down her face.
“Dana?”
She sniffed and looked up. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Sam got up and went to sit beside her. “Did you even try?”
She nodded miserably. “I just kept seeing him like that…all tied up.”
“And my nightmares couldn’t have helped.”
She shook her head and pointed to the computer. “So I thought I’d see what I could find out about the names we got from the dream.” She wiped tears off her face. “Donald Marks is the football coach at the school, and he teaches wood shop. His wife, Angelica, she’s the Home Ec teacher. They live just outside of town, on land that’s been in his family since the 1800s.”
Sam sighed and reached for the computer. “There’s time for that in the morning. You’ve had less than two hours of sleep in the last twenty four, and most of that was in the car. Lay down. Let me help you sleep.”
“I don’t think I can Sam.” She lay down, letting Sam tuck the blanket around her.
“I can give you something.” Sam said even more softly. “To help.”
“I’ll dream. I know I will.”
Sam sighed again, one hand caressing over her face. “Dana, you can’t help your father if you’re worn out and tired from not sleeping. It will make you sloppy. You’ll miss stuff. You’ll get hurt.”
His mind brushed over hers, feeling her turmoil, but feeling the smoothing brought about by his touch. He’d been able to do this since she was an infant, press all the right buttons to move her toward sleep, to ease her past whatever was holding her awake and bring her a certain peace.
She resisted longer than usual, the space between them filling involuntarily with her fears, but slowly he overcame them and she drifted. When he was sure she was asleep he took the computer to the dresser, closing it before sighing again. He wasn’t sure he would sleep more either, but he went back to the bed, surprised when his father’s eyes were open. “You need someone who can do that for you.” John said softly .
Sam smiled, but wasn’t sure he’d see it in the dark. “Usually I have Dean.” He sat on the bed his back to his father. “It isn’t always enough, but he takes the edge off.”
“I can give you something.” John said, echoing his words.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
He laid down, though he doubted he’d be sleeping. The spell he’d worked yesterday would be enough to keep the fatigue at bay if he didn’t, at least for a little while more. He didn’t want to think what would happen if they hadn’t found Dean by the time it wore off. He’d brought the stuff to work it one more time, but the payback was going to be hard enough with having done it only once.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to still his mind. Dean would be fine. He had to believe that. He was a strong man. He could hold on for them. And they would find them. They had the names of the people, it was a relatively small town, how hard could it be?
Part Three
Title: Captivus, Part II (Other Keeper!Verse stories can be found Here
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, Dana, John
Rating: Overall PG-13 (with a touch of R in places)
Word Count: 17, 972 (total)
Summary: For
shotofjack, who bought me in the Sweet Charity auction. She asked for Keeper Verse and a look at Dana actually growing up and working with Sam to rescue Dean. So, this is Dana at 16, half way to seventeen. A dream offers the Winchesters two hunts at once, though with John suffering with a broken arm, and Sam hurting from a life time of physical abuse, it's time for Dana to step up to the plate. When Dean's hunt goes terribly wrong, it's up to Dana and Sam to figure out why and rescue him, before it's too late.A/Ns & Warnings: Unfortunately there is no sex here, though there is some nakedness. There is also a fair amount of schloomp and not a small amount of angst. This story is complete and will be posted in sections because LJ won't let me post it as one.
It was nearly dawn before John came in from the car. Dana was dozing in Sam’s arms. “You’re all set. I’ll follow as soon as I can get the garage set up to run without me. I’ve already called Bill.”
Sam would argue, he knew Dean had concerns about John going down there with the arm in the state it was in, but couldn’t bring himself to. “Thank you. We’ll get set up, do some recon.” He rubbed a hand over Dana’s arm. “You ready, honey?”
She drew in a breath and stretched, nodding slowly. “Why don’t you go in and splash some water on your face, take care of everything and get Aristotle in the car. We’ll drop her off at Missouri’s.”
“You need anything else, Sam?”
“No Dad. I’ve got this. I’ll see you down there.”
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
Sam smiled up at him, pulling a worn leather bracelet from his pocket and snapping it around his right wrist, closing his eyes as the old magic mixed with the new he’d worked a little while before in the bathroom. The glamour settled over him, banishing the scars and with it came a brief respite from the pain and fatigue. He’d pay the price later, but it would give him a good thirty-six hours without the agony he’d been in the last few days.
“I’m good.” He stood up, relishing the ease of movement. Aristotle followed Dana closely as she came out of the hall with her leash. Sam let his eyes sweep the room, hoping he wasn’t forgetting something important.
They had left Aristotle in Missouri’s care, and accepted bags full of food she pressed on them, and were finally on the road when Dana tapped the bracelet with one finger.
“Haven’t seen that in a while.”
“Nope. Haven’t needed it in a while.”
“Why now?”
He sighed. He knew she could probably feel the difference, the extra something. “Small towns…people can be strange, Dana, and scars like mine make them uncomfortable. We need all the help we can get.”
“Don’t think I don’t know there’s more.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “If I pulled a stunt like that, Dad would ground me for a month.”
He had to agree. Dean would. “I know what I’m doing Dana.”
“I hope so.”
Hold on Dean. We’re coming.
It was Sam’s voice…though how that was possible Dean wasn’t sure. He opened his eyes slowly, knowing things weren’t good. Not good. That was an understatement.
He was hanging. Spread eagle on his stomach. Suspended by a rope harness. He took a deep breath and wiggled, testing the limits of his bondage, but he was pretty secure.
The room was fairly dark, but he thought the floor under him was moving. He closed his eyes, cursing whatever drug they’d hit him with. When he reopened them, he tried to focus on whatever was under him.
The lights came up unexpectedly and Dean flinched, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Hey, he’s awake.”
Dean looked toward the voice, blinking in the bright overhead lights. “I don’t know what you’re playing at kid.”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand and Dean couldn’t speak. He tried, but nothing came out. Fuck.
The two “parents” appeared then. “Go finish your homework, Paul.”
The woman was pretty, in that unholy and going to bleed you dry sort of way. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, her eyes black, her lips painted red. “Look baby, they’re almost ready.”
Dean followed her eyes to the floor beneath him and really wished he hadn’t. A half-dozen…eggs, for lack of a better name, were cocooned in a nest of blankets beneath him. The smell of sulfur filled the air as the slimy coating of one started to crack.
“Patience, my dear. If we cut him too soon, he’ll be dry too fast and we’ll have to get another…”
“Maybe the other one will come,” she said excitedly. “Imagine giving them that much power…They’re so beautiful.”
Dean was going to be sick. Especially when she squealed as the first one began to open, a tiny, red skinned claw reaching up out of the oily shell. Not good. He decided that his first assessment was the best for the occasion.
They pulled into Garmont at around ten on Sunday morning. Dana was asleep as they drove up to the only motel in town, but she was awake when Sam came out with a key. “Your father’s registered here, but no one’s seen him since he checked in yesterday morning.” Sam said as he got into the car. “The impala’s not here.”
“It’s….outside the drug store.” Dana said, her eyes a little glazed, unfocused. “Dad’s…not far…hidden…damn.”
“The kid’s good.” Sam said for her and she nodded. “I brought the spare keys, want to go get the car?”
She smiled. “Dad never lets me drive it.”
“You’ve got your license Dana, and I’m not walking the mile and a half to get it. Straight back though…and if you tell your father I let you drive it, I’ll tell him about the little thing with the school skipping a few weeks ago.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “Deal.”
He dropped the keys in her hand and moved to their room. “I’ll get us set up.”
Sam moved into the room, dropping duffel bags onto the first bed and going back for the rest. When he had everything in and the door shut he exhaled slowly and sank to a seat on one of the beds. His hands were shaking as he pulled them through his hair.
He hated to admit to Dana or his father how scared he was. These kinds of demons didn’t get gifted kids given to them. They stole them. Usually to…do things he didn’t want to think about…and if they wanted a psychic…but were happy to have Dean…
At least it narrowed down the list. Off the top of his head he could think of 4, maybe 5 kinds of demon that could be responsible. There could be more, but…the reasons they’d want a psychic or hunter weren’t pleasant no matter what kind they were.
From the ones who just liked to fuck with humans…tormenting them for no other reason than to break them…to the ones who wanted certain kinds of humans to possess…to those who wanted them for breeding.
Sam shivered. Hybrids still shook him. Of course, the worst were the Harriers…who were bred from several kinds and classes of demons…but they weren’t alone…and the ones that mixed human DNA with demon…Sam shook his head. No. They could rule those out. They usually required a human mother, not father.
What he did know was that they were planning on bleeding him. Probably slowly. The set up he saw would restrict the flow of blood. Probably designed to draw out the process…though whether that was just to cause more pain or for some other purpose, he wasn’t sure. Sam reached for the bag with the books, and opened the Davers text, skipping to the back and skimming through the index, before turning to the section on lower level demons.
He looked up when Dana knocked, then the door opened and she came in. He raised an eyebrow. “Practicing,” she said defensively.
“Just don’t get caught.”
“It beats picking locks with those little tools of yours.”
“All right, Ms. Smarty Pants. Why don’t you figure out which room is your father’s, and practice on his door? Maybe he left the compendium in there.”
“Really?”
Sam put the book down and looked at her. “This is the real thing, Dana. Not training, not practice. This is the real world, where you have to make decisions about when and how to use your gifts. This is what we’ve trained you for. It’s now or never.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
Dana knew she could handle something this simple. It was a matter of sniffing out her father’s…essence. That something that lingers over items, marks them as belonging. Psychic ownership. It was a forty room motel though…and she didn’t want to look like she was casing the joint looking for a room to break into.
Which is exactly what she was doing.
She walked slowly along the bottom floor of the block their room was in. Five rooms down. Nothing. Around the back, another five rooms. She could feel Sam. She was directly opposite their room. He was…shaking. His whole being was shaking.
Dana exhaled and gathered herself. She had a task to do. Sam had made it clear he would handle himself. She couldn’t offer him the help he needed. He knew what he was doing. She had to believe that. Because the last time she hadn’t believed it, she’d done terrible things to him.
She made it to the end of the block and looked up. The second floor, another ten rooms. Still nothing. She stopped, leaning on the balcony railing, gazing out into the woods. Like she was just a tourist, trying to get a feel for things…see the sights. Nothing to be suspicious about.
She was half way down the other block of rooms when she felt it. Like a tremor…a glimmer of her father…not really him…she stopped beside room 24, resting her palm on the door. She needed to be sure, not just go barging in.
That was when she felt it.
Right room. But she wasn’t getting into it. Not easily. She could unlock the door, but there was something else…and she couldn’t tell if it was something he did, or someone else. She chewed on her lower lip and tried to feel her way around it.
It was good. Not perfect. She could get through it eventually.
But it would mean lingering there, in front of a room that wasn’t hers. She turned her back to the door, pressing both hands against it, her eyes skipping over the parking lot, falling on the impala.
The energy of it tingled on her palms. It felt vaguely familiar. Like….The door to their room opened and Sam was there, looking at her. She stepped away from the door immediately. He was pale and she could see from across the parking lot he’d found something.
She jogged to him and he pulled her inside. “What were you doing?”
She frowned at him. “He’s got some…psychic lock on the door.”
“I could feel you, even with the wall up. Fuck, half the town probably felt it.”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just searching out the boundaries…so I could get through it.”
“Your father couldn’t do that Dana. He knows some simple spell work…but nothing like that.”
She blinked at him…but of course he was right. She bit her lip. “Fuck.” She blushed red. She’d blundered. Again. The trap had been meant for her. Maybe not her specifically, but they wanted a psychic…and she’d sent her father. Then they marked his door…content to use him, but happier still to get the one who’d sent him.
“I just let them know I was here, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry about it. It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes. Yes it is. I didn’t think. Again. Fuck.”
“Calm down Dana. We’ll be fine.”
“I should know better.”
He raised both eyebrows as she crossed her arms. “So…are you going to stand there and pout about it, or get with the helping?” He held up the Michaels text and she rolled her eyes before reaching for it.
“Don’t suppose it would help to try to find the text of the compendium online?” Dana asked a few minutes later, looking up from her spot on the floor between the beds.
Sam frowned. “I doubt it. Magical and demonic texts are notorious for being archaic. I’d be surprised if anyone would be willing to put anything like that out where anyone could stumble across it. We’re not even supposed to know it exists.”
“No? Then why did Papa have it, instead of keeping it in the trunk?”
“Because, he needed it for something, and no one knows we have it…and stop asking silly questions and read.”
He had that annoyed tone. The one he got when she asked too many questions or pushed too deeply into private territory. She put the weighty book on the floor and got up to get her laptop.
Sam watched for a few minutes as she got settled on the floor. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me.” Dana said, her tongue sticking through her lips as she finessed her way onto some errant wireless network.
His cell phone rang before she stopped typing and he flipped it open after seeing it was his father. “Hey…no, we’re here. The Forty-Acres Motel, on Main.”
He closed the phone and looked back at Dana who was squinting at her screen. “That was Dad. He’s about twenty minutes away. He’s gonna bring lunch.”
She nodded distractedly, flipping open the Michaels with one hand while she scrolled down whatever was on the screen with the other. He’d seen that look before. She was on to something.
Dean wiggled his fingers and his toes, just to make sure they were still working. His ankle twinged, and it almost felt like he might have broken it, but in his current position, he couldn’t see it.
Daylight filtered into the room, which he could now see was some sort of shed or work space. The floor was cement, what he could see of it under the bloody, slimy mess below him.
All of the eggs were hatched, six…monstrous spawn had climbed from their grotesque shells of soft tissue and slime. The proud parents had poked him with…something, six pronged and deadly…and blood had spurted out of his chest onto the disgusting creatures, the woman squealing with glee as they reached up with open mouths and he was lowered so that the blood flowed into them.
He’d passed out to the sound of her cooing to her babies and the feeling of a hand passing over the wounds. He was a good four feet off the ground again as he came to…out of reach of the little bastards.
He had his voice back, judging by the noises he’d made as he woke. Not that he figured he’d get to use it much. At least he knew what they wanted him for now. He got the dubious honor of being their fucking wet nurse.
And the kid, Paul. He was certainly abused, but not in any hurry to escape. He was powerful. Not like Dana, but that would come with time. He’d learned a lot about these things in 16 years with Dana and Sam.
Dana and Sam. Who were probably looking for him. Dean wiggled around in the demonic hammock and tried to get free. He was so intent on his exploration of the knots and ropes that he didn’t hear the door open.
“You’re wasting your time.” Paul said.
Dean looked at him, his eyes snapping over his dusty blond hair, freckles. “I know a thing or two about knots, kid.” Dean said, turning his attention back to his left hand.
“Maybe. But it’s still a waste of time. Those aren’t regular knots…and you’re a pretty regular guy…for all that you are a hunter.”
“What would you know?”
“My daddy was a hunter.” Paul moved further into the shed, cocking his head as he watched Dean struggle. “Who is she?”
“She who?”
“The one who sent you? The one who was dreaming about the ghost?”
“Like I’m telling you.” Dean pressed his face into the rope running under his head, feeling it scrape across stubbly cheeks, burning.
“She felt like you…so she’s related…sister, maybe?” Paul moved still closer. “Younger though. Angie says I had a kid sister, but I don’t remember.”
“Yeah?” Dean looked at him. It was hard to be angry with him. There was just too much that reminded him of Sam. The Sam he met in Palo Alto. Trying to exert his independence, yet blindly loyal to the only thing he knew. “How’d you end up here?”
“My daddy sent me away. Found out I had these powers. Called me a freak. Donnie found me.”
“Nice. You realize they’re demons, right?”
Paul shrugged. “They’re good to me.”
Dean squeezed out a laugh. “If that’s what you call those bruises.”
“Boys need discipline.” Paul recited to him.
“Right. And that means beatings.”
“Sometimes. So, sister?” He squinted at Dean and he could vaguely feel…something…like just before Dana touched his mind. He consciously pulled his mind as much behind the wall Sam had helped him build as he could.
“Dana, eh? I like that. But she’s not your sister is she?”
Dean stared back at him and the kid smiled. “You’re pretty good. She must have taught you stuff. That’s cool. Maybe Angie will let me play later.”
“Oh, yeah, something to look forward to.” Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You want something to look forward to?” Paul smiled, but Dean didn’t think he looked happy. “They grow fast. Feeding’s every few hours now…but as they grow, they require more. By tonight, they’ll have their teeth, and we won’t need to poke you…they’ll just drop you down so that you’re in reach. They’ll eat the flesh off your bones, little by little. Last time I had to keep silencing the guy. He screamed like a girl. Then he wasn’t even enough, they lost like half the litter because he wasn’t strong enough. If you’re lucky, you’ll be dead before they get to your organs.”
“Thanks, that’s…very helpful.” Dean managed to keep his voice even, with a touch of humor still in it.
“So…I came down because it’s my job to keep you fed and shit. You don’t get much, but I got protein shakes. It’s less messy than trying to actually feed you anything. I’ve got chocolate and vanilla. Which do you want?”
Dean stared at him, incredulous. “What?”
“They both taste like shit, but you know…last meals and all? You should get a choice.”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “Surprise me.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
And just like that, he was alone again, staring at the place where the boy had been standing.
Sam felt it first, an odd questing feeling that he didn’t recognize at first. Dana. Just like that. Her name, floating in that space that wasn’t dream and wasn’t awake.
Her head snapped up, and he reached for her mentally. She latched onto him almost automatically, and together they erected a barrier of sorts. What was that?
Sam looked at his father, who was watching them, realizing something was going on. Don’t know.
“Sam?”
“Hang on a sec. We’re trying to—“
I know you can hear me Dana.
“Shit.” Sam sat up, strengthening the barrier, even as he pulled his father inside it, both physically dragging him closer and mentally, extending the wall around him. “Dana, look at me. Don’t listen to it.”
Her green eyes were wide when they met his. “It’s him,” she said, letting him take her hand. “He found me.”
“Him?”
Sam nodded. “The one who gave Dana the vision that brought Dean down here.”
We have him Dana. He’s already bled for us
Dana blanched white as an image of Dean came, trussed up in some harness and bleeding, his face contorted in pain.
I can give him back to you.
“Dana, honey, don’t listen.” Sam said, dragging her eyes back to his. “He’s trying to trick you.”
“Sam…Dad.” Her voice was anguished and he squeezed her hand.
“I know, baby, I know. Hold on.” He flipped up something of the wall between them and blasted mentally at the kid, pushing him away almost violently.
Dana sagged back against the dresser and nodded weakly.
“What was that?” John asked, moving back to the bed.
“I…encouraged him to go bug someone else.” Sam said.
“I don’t like this kid.”
Sam looked at him and nodded, but it wasn’t that easy for him. “He’s definitely wherever Dean is…or has been recently.”
Dana picked herself up shakily. “I…I’ll be back in a minute. I think…maybe…I found something.”
Sam pulled one hand through his hair and paced. “Shit. This kid is good, Dad. Good.”
“No. Not better than Dana anyway. Maybe a match for me. But he’s cocky. He’s never met someone like himself before. Not someone who can defend themselves.” Sam turned and exhaled slowly. “He’s…just a kid. If…if they raised him…like I was raised, he probably is only barely conscious that what he’s doing is wrong.”
“You haven’t even met the kid and you’re making excuses for him?” John asked.
Sam shook his head. “No…not excuses. I just. I used to be that kid.”
John stood and came to where Sam stood near the door. “No. Sam. By the time you were his age, you were a victim…you’d been…”
“And we don’t know that he hasn’t been. I doubt low level demons like these two have access to Harriers…but it doesn’t have to be Harriers to be bad.”
Sam pushed away memories of exactly what he’d been at fourteen…of what he let himself become. Dwelling on that wouldn’t help him, or Dean.
Dana came out of the bathroom, still looking pale. “So…I…did some searching…and I came up with two probable culprits. Both of them are…bad.”
She picked up her laptop and put it on the bed. “The give away is the harness. I wasn’t sure before…but now…” She shook her head and Sam felt her push her fear into a corner to be dealt with later. “It’s called a feeding hammock.” She clicked a picture and an image filled the screen. “You can see why.”
A middle aged man was suspended in the harness, arms and legs spread, rope conforming to his body on all sides, holding him naked and helpless over a…nest…of what might to an untrained eye, look like baby birds…big damn birds…but Sam knew better.
“Carrion demons?” How the hell had they gotten loose?
“Sam?”
He shook his head and paced away. “I said bottom feeders, but this? Generally, they’re…harvesters. They’re kept on leashes by higher order demons. They eat flesh…usually of the soul their harvesting.”
The thought of Dean in the hands of…”They’re part of the cocktail that Harriers come from. They’re mean and nasty and the most vile hell spawn capable of taking a human host.”
Dana flipped the screen. “Two kinds I found. Not sure what the differences are, other than how they spawn.”
“What does this mean, for Dean?” John asked, his eyes flipping between Sam and Dana.
“Both have a gestational period of eight weeks, after which the one lays eggs and the other gives birth. Both have between 2 and 12…babies.” Dana mouthed the word like it was distasteful. “The eggs lay for another three weeks, then start hatching. When they’re out…they need blood for the first seventy two hours, then a mixture of blood and flesh.”
“He’s a strong one, baby. He’s going to make our babies grow up big and happy.”
Dean’s eyes rolled toward her. The kid had put the whammy on him when he couldn’t help but yell as six little mouths bit into him. Not that he would have known what to say. She squatted in front of him, cooing at the monsters sucking blood out of him.
“Paul says the other one is here. That she’s quite powerful.”
Her eyes glittered as she stood and moved back to the man. “We could have more…by the time Gonle finds us, we’ll have an army. They won’t be able to make us go back.”
“Gonle isn’t finding us anytime soon, darling. We made sure of that when we found Paul.”
“Yes, but eventually he’ll be old enough to feed a full litter. All twelve…can you imagine, darling? Two full litters brought to adulthood on the blood of power? They’ll be unstoppable.”
“And raised by us instead of some overlord, they’ll be loyal to us.” Dean watched as they kissed and groaned, even though no sound came out. “Now…let’s not let them over feed…or he’ll die before his time.”
Dean felt his body jerk upward, felt little mouths clamoring against his skin for just a little more, then the dark swooped in on him.
Sam sat up with a jerk. The dreams were worse than they’d been in a while, all mixed up with imaginings of Dean and what he was going through. His father was asleep beside him. Dana sat on the other bed, still awake, the laptop in her lap, tears rolling down her face.
“Dana?”
She sniffed and looked up. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Sam got up and went to sit beside her. “Did you even try?”
She nodded miserably. “I just kept seeing him like that…all tied up.”
“And my nightmares couldn’t have helped.”
She shook her head and pointed to the computer. “So I thought I’d see what I could find out about the names we got from the dream.” She wiped tears off her face. “Donald Marks is the football coach at the school, and he teaches wood shop. His wife, Angelica, she’s the Home Ec teacher. They live just outside of town, on land that’s been in his family since the 1800s.”
Sam sighed and reached for the computer. “There’s time for that in the morning. You’ve had less than two hours of sleep in the last twenty four, and most of that was in the car. Lay down. Let me help you sleep.”
“I don’t think I can Sam.” She lay down, letting Sam tuck the blanket around her.
“I can give you something.” Sam said even more softly. “To help.”
“I’ll dream. I know I will.”
Sam sighed again, one hand caressing over her face. “Dana, you can’t help your father if you’re worn out and tired from not sleeping. It will make you sloppy. You’ll miss stuff. You’ll get hurt.”
His mind brushed over hers, feeling her turmoil, but feeling the smoothing brought about by his touch. He’d been able to do this since she was an infant, press all the right buttons to move her toward sleep, to ease her past whatever was holding her awake and bring her a certain peace.
She resisted longer than usual, the space between them filling involuntarily with her fears, but slowly he overcame them and she drifted. When he was sure she was asleep he took the computer to the dresser, closing it before sighing again. He wasn’t sure he would sleep more either, but he went back to the bed, surprised when his father’s eyes were open. “You need someone who can do that for you.” John said softly .
Sam smiled, but wasn’t sure he’d see it in the dark. “Usually I have Dean.” He sat on the bed his back to his father. “It isn’t always enough, but he takes the edge off.”
“I can give you something.” John said, echoing his words.
Sam shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
He laid down, though he doubted he’d be sleeping. The spell he’d worked yesterday would be enough to keep the fatigue at bay if he didn’t, at least for a little while more. He didn’t want to think what would happen if they hadn’t found Dean by the time it wore off. He’d brought the stuff to work it one more time, but the payback was going to be hard enough with having done it only once.
Sam closed his eyes and tried to still his mind. Dean would be fine. He had to believe that. He was a strong man. He could hold on for them. And they would find them. They had the names of the people, it was a relatively small town, how hard could it be?
Part Three