Even Monsters have a Social 9/?

[emebalia]

Chapter 9

"Keys." Dean demanded, holding his hand out to Harold while he absently hung the phone back up.

"What?" Still dumbfounded by the suddenly dead line Harold blinked up at him.

"Give me the keys. We take your car." Dean repeated, now looming over Harold, just seconds from forcefully taking what he wanted, Harold had no doubt. "I'm driving."


Harold barely had time to get Bear in the backseat before the engine howled to life. Mr. Winchester clearly wasn't a patient man but right now neither was Harold. Mr. Reese and the younger Winchester could be dead by now and the way Dean drove, he was aware of that.
Harold could only hope they weren't too late. Neither Sam nor John answered their phones and at this point he would be happy if Ms. Martin picked up again. But all he got was ringing and voicemail.

In the backseat Bear made a whining noise, clearly sensing his owner's distress.

"What's with the dog anyway?" Dean asked without taking his eyes off the traffic in front him.

"I am currently associated with a dangerous mass murderer, Mr. Winchester." Harold opened his laptop and tried hard to not show his fear of said mass murderer right next to him. "Bear is here for protection."

For a moment it looked like Dean wanted to say something but then he just gave a sharp nod with the muscles in his jaw twitching.

Then he turned his head to have a look at the dog in the backseat. Bear gave him a doggy laugh with his tongue lolling out. Not exactly frightening, Harold had to admit.

Harold let out the breath he had been holding. Saying things like this so openly was risky but he'd figured this was the best way to deal with Mr. Winchester, letting him know that he knew who he was. And Dean hadn't killed him for it. Yet. But for now Dean kinda needed him to find his brother so Harold figured he was safe for the moment.

"So, you read my file?" Dean's attention was back on driving.

"Yours and your brother's, Mr. Winchester." He checked the location of the phones but they hadn't moved since the interrupted phone call. Which meant what? "Turn right."

"And still." Dean smoothly maneuvered the car through the traffic. "You came to us for help."

"You seemed to be the lesser evil at that point."

They fell silent for a while and Harold had to admit it was an almost comfortable one. They both worried about somebody close and Harold couldn't help but feel somewhat connected to the other man. Just like John and him the Winchesters didn't really have anybody else. With the difference that Harold and John weren't murderers.

"Try Sam again." Dean suddenly spoke up, drawing Harold out of his thoughts. If Sam was able to use a phone right now he would have called his brother, they both knew that, but Harold tried anyway.

"Voicemail." He said with a resigned sigh and tried another number. "Same with Mr. Reese."

Dean nodded to that, he'd probably expected that much, and put his foot down on the accelerator.

They still had at least an eight minutes drive ahead, maybe six the way Dean was driving, but it was still too long for Harold's liking.

"Who are you guys anyway?" Dean changed the topic with a curious look at Harold.

The question wasn't unexpected, however, it surprised him that it came up now.

"You're no hunters." Dean continued when Harold failed to answer immediately. "But you were after Rachel." He paused, thinking. "Or were you after us and Rachel just got in the way?"

Dean threw him a side-glance while Harold's mind was still on the term hunter. Did the Winchesters see themselves that way? It did sound better than vigilantes, though.

Harold pondered what he should tell the other man. So far Dean had played along, had helped him, even when he had no reason to do so. Quite the opposite, the Winchesters should appreciate the fact that one of their enemies was out of the picture. But they didn't.

Dean didn't come across as the maniac he was supposed to be. And Bear liked him. The dog had good instincts when it came to people.

There was still the video of the killing spree in the diner. No matter how nice and caring Dean seemed to be, Harold kept that side of him in mind.

"We knew Ms. Martin would be in danger." He finally answered the question without elaborating how they knew. For some reason he didn't want to lie to this man. He wouldn't tell him the whole truth and he was far from trusting him but Harold decided to be as open as he could be.

Dean just snorted to that.

"At that point we didn't know she was a serial killer." Harold admitted.

"Serial killer?" Dean threw him an almost amused glance. "That's one way to put it."

Harold ignored that and had a look at the laptop again.

"We should be there in a minute, Mr. Winchester."

There was something Harold needed to address before they confronted Ms. Martin and he was running out of time. Gathering all his courage he spoke up.

"When I spoke to Ms. Martin earlier." He began but wasn't sure on how to continue.

"Yeah?"

"I think she wants to stop." Harold didn't look at him. "I know you think she's a monster and for some reason she plays right into that but I really think she wants help. She said she was trying to stop killing people but couldn't."

"What are you trying to say?" Dean asked, his expression carefully guarded. However, Harold was pretty sure the other man knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"There is no need to kill her." There, he'd said it. "We should hand her over to the police, I know somebody we could call in." Detective Carter was only one phone call away.

For a long moment Dean didn't say anything.

"Let's find our people first." Dean parked the car. "There's the Impala." With that he was out of the car and already peering through the window of the other one before Harold could even open his door.

"Sam's not here." Dean informed him when he finally joined him with Bear's leash in a tight grip.

"That should be Ms. Martin's car." Harold had spotted it around the corner of the building. Like he'd guessed this was an industrial area but it was long out of use. Weeds had broken the concrete, tagged walls and broken windows, a good place to get rid of a hostage. One way or another.

"Stay behind me." Suddenly Dean was in front of him, a knife in his hand. It was a rather odd weapon but this way he couldn't just shoot Ms. Martin at sight, Harold guessed and didn't object.

The car was abandoned, the door on the driver's side open and blood on the seat. Harold hurried to look the other way while Dean had a closer look.

"This your friend's?" He came up with a phone.

"Yes." Harold took it and had to readjust his hold on the leash because Bear wanted to get closer. With his head low between his shoulder and a deep growl in his throat the dog stood between the open door of the car and Harold.

"I'd say Sammy got her but not good enough." Dean straightened up and had a look around the place. They were surrounded by empty buildings.

"Sam?" Dean yelled and then stood in silence, waiting for an answer. Which didn't come.

"Super." He muttered and washed a hand down his face. Then his eyes fell on Bear who still growled at the bloody seat. "Looks like he doesn't like what he smells."

"I'm not sure why he does this." Never before had Harold seen the dog reacting this strong to something else than a person holding his owner at gunpoint.

Dean nodded like he knew exactly what the dog was trying to tell them. "He any good at tracking?"

Whoever was bleeding, most likely Ms. Rachel, needed help fast. And chances were good to find the others in the same place. Harold reached down and clicked the leash off Bear's collar.

"Zoek!" And with that the dog went off.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Harold who already hurried to keep up with the dog.

"He only responds to Dutch commends."

"Of course he does."

They probably could have followed the blood trail without Bear's help, somebody was losing a lot of blood, but with his help it was way faster. And they needed to be fast. Harold only hoped it wasn't John's blood they were following. It wasn't likely but they needed to find John first to know for sure.

Their short journey ended in what used to be an office.

Dean pointed at a bloody hand-print on a filing cabinet and once again stepped in front of Harold.

They found Ms. Martin pressed in a corner, her clothes soaking with her own blood and Bear standing over her, ready to rip her apart.

Dean reached for the dog's collar and dragged him backwards. Getting the hint Harold clicked the leash back on.

"Where's Sam?" Dean crouched in front of her. How she was still alive Harold had no idea but she meant no danger anymore, that much was obvious.

"Who?" She visibly teared her eyes off Bear and then looked up at Harold. "Who's that?"

"I'm Harold." He gave her a smile. "Don't worry, we're getting you help." He reached for his phone to call 911 but without even looking at him Dean swept it out of his hand. Same with Mr. Reese's.

Realization dawned on her face. She let her head fall back against the wall with a laugh. The sound bubbled in her chest and the laugh came out with splatters of blood.

"Four hunters?" She asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Only me and my brother." Dean answered. "The others are civilians stumbling in on something."

She licked the blood off her lips and for a second she didn't look human at all. Harold rubbed his eyes and the grotesque thing was gone. Must have been a trick of the light.

"Where's my brother?" Dean repeated his question and Harold added: "And Mr. Reese."

Dean adjusted his position and the knife in his hand caught her attention.

"Please." She begged. "They're alive, please, I just had to get away."

"You touched them?" Dean asked. By now Harold had decided to just listen, he felt like he was missing huge parts of the story here.

"They'll be fine when they come out of the nightmare, I swear." Her eyes were still on the knife.

"You know, I like you, Rachel." Dean said with a sigh.

"Please, I just want to live." The words came out stronger now and Harold wondered if she wasn't as badly injured as he'd first thought.

"Can you live without killing people?"

"No." Eyes on the floor she shook her head.

"I'm sorry."

"You know." Rachel coughed and fresh blood covered her lips. "The weird thing is, I think you really are."

Harold couldn't see Dean's face but to him he sounded sorry, too. Sincere. After seeing the man killing in cold blood it was unexpected to see him showing empathy to say the least.

"How often did Sam get you?"

"Four." She looked up at Dean with tears in her eyes.

After the calm talking Harold got caught by surprise with what happened next. Without a warning Dean lunched forward and buried the knife to the hilt in Rachel's chest.

"No!" Harold screamed but he was too late.

Rachel arched under the knife and she flickered between her human figure and something else entirely before she slumped down, looking human once again.

"Mr. Winchester?" Harold stared at the body but it had stopped changing. "What …?"

Chapter 10
Masterpost