Fic: The Price of Love (2/7)
Back to Part 1
* * * DW * * *
"Well, don't you look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary," Benny chuckled, leaning back in the back-corner booth of Dean's favorite diner, The Roadhouse. "Sit down and have a cup. The waiter will be right here, I told him to come over soon as you got here."
"Ate something all right, but wasn't a stupid canary," Dean replied with a smirk. He slid onto the rusty brown pleather-cushioned bench and watched Benny pour a cup of steaming black goodness into a thick white china mug. Dean was rich, but he still loved The Roadhouse with its plain, homey feel and plain, solid food. He'd found it soon after buying the building that had become Iniquity. Even with the wealth and power he'd since accrued, it was his favorite spot to meet Benny for breakfast. Especially on a day that looked to be as trying as today did.
Benny raised his eyebrows. "Start the day with a bang, didja?" He winked. "That Lisa, she's a honey."
"She is indeed," Dean agreed, sipping the hot coffee with a sigh of pleasure. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long."
"Hope you didn't keep her waiting long," Benny retorted. "Best way to start the day." They both laughed.
"Yeah, can't complain." Dean's stomach growled. "Worked up an appetite though."
The waiter approached their booth. "I'm happy to take your order, if you're ready," he said politely.
Dean looked at him with a slight frown. "You new here?"
"Yes, I'm Kevin, Kevin Tran. I just started last week." Kevin bobbed his head. He was a young Asian man with thick, dark hair in a bowl cut. Dean thought he might be twenty, but barely.
Dean was always wary about new people in places he considered safe. "Never know who's going to try sneaking into our business," he would remind his security team. To Dean, that included places like this diner. He made a mental note to have Benny check this kid out.
"I'll have an egg, bacon, and cheese on an everything bagel, bacon extra crisp. French fries instead of home fries." Dean motioned to the coffee carafe. "And another one of these."
"Of course," Kevin replied. He turned to Benny. "And for you, sir?"
"Steak and eggs, steak extra rare and eggs nice and runny," Benny answered.
Kevin nodded and scurried off.
"You ready to see little bro?" Benny studied Dean over his coffee cup. "I suspect he's going to be loaded for bear after the last time."
Dean snorted. "Sam is nothing if not persistent. Also smarter than anyone should be." He didn't comment on how having those smarts on his side was terrific, but facing them was a giant pain.
"Yeah, no flies on that boy." Benny smiled at Kevin, who returned with their plates. "Or this one. What a cute little thing you are, Kevin. You got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"
Kevin looked between Benny and Dean, his dark eyes darting nervously. "Um, no, neither. I'm studying too much to, um, date. I'm an AP student-Advanced Placement-and I'm in the middle of applying to colleges. I'm working here for extra money for my tuition."
"Oh, are ya?" Benny winked at Dean, who smiled, knowing where Benny was going with this conversation. Benny enjoyed both men and women, favoring petite ones. It always amused Dean how Benny, formidable when he needed to be, was a cuddly teddy bear with his lovers. "Well, cher, I could maybe help you with that problem. I happen to like pretty boys like you." He leaned closer to Kevin, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble. "Think we could go on a. . . date?"
Kevin trembled, his hand shaking when he tried to pour coffee into Dean's mug and slopping it on the table instead. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I'll be right back with a towel!" He scurried off again.
"You scared the lad," Dean said, biting into his breakfast sandwich. "Isn't he a little. . . little for you?"
"Oh, he looks so light and flexible! And he is pretty. I won't hurt the boy, just give him his first orgasm, by the look of things." Benny chuckled and dug into his bloody steak. "No biting or anything, just some sweet sweet lovin'."
"You do you, I can't do the twink thing," Dean said. "And yes, I can't say I'm entirely looking forward to this meeting but I gotta do what I gotta do."
"Well, let's eat up and go face the lion in his den then." Benny took a napkin and wrote his number on it. When Kevin returned and mopped up the coffee, Benny hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and pulled him close. "Here, mon doux petit, give me a call and we can go out for ice cream, or something innocent like that, oui?" He leaned over and quickly kissed Kevin's cheek. "Mm mm, yes."
Kevin's eyes were round and wide and his cheeks pinked under the kiss. He didn't look adverse to the suggestion though, Dean thought, and decided he'd be amused to see how this played out.
"Yeah, eat up indeed," he murmured, and Benny laughed loudly.
* * * DW * * *
Striding confidently into Sam's office, Dean watched Jo Harvelle's eyes dilate when she looked up at him. He knew she'd had a thing for him forever, since her first days working for Sam, and he knew he looked pretty good in his well-fitted charcoal gray suit. He would never act on his advantage with her; she was totally not his type, to begin with, and he wasn't going to play in his brother's pool. It was fun to flirt with her though and watch her attraction to him war with her self-righteousness.
"Could you let your boss know I'm here for our meeting, sweetcheeks?" He gave her a big smile. Her cheeks flushed as he leaned over her desk. "Looking pretty fine there, darlin'. New 'do?"
"I-uh-" she stammered before collecting herself. "Yes, I'll tell him. Excuse me."
Dean winked at her, then watched appreciatively as she came out from behind her desk and walked briskly over to Sam's door. Just because he'd never tap that didn't mean he didn't like to observe. Behind him, he heard Benny stifle a laugh.
"Dean Winchester is here," Jo announced, opening the door to Sam's office and stepping inside. "Do you want him-"
"I'll see myself in," Dean said as he breezed in past her. "Coffee, black, okay? Thanks, doll-face." He walked over to one of the chairs facing Sam's desk and sat down, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and slinging one arm on the chair's arm. "Hey there, Sammy."
He acted relaxed and casual, but as always, the moment he saw Sam, Dean felt the tug of old emotions. Sam was a far cry from the coltish teenager he'd been during their shared youth. He'd outgrown Dean height-wise, now a good four or five inches taller. Big and strong now instead of rangy and wiry, his waist was still slim but his upper body was packed with muscles that even beneath his suit could easily be discerned. Strong angles defined his face, with high cheekbones, an imposing forehead, and a sharp nose. Dark hair still swung into his eyes sometimes though, since Sam kept it longer than one would expect for someone in his professional position but it suited him, the wave of it softening what might otherwise be a harsh face.
Goddamnit, why did he have to be so fucking attractive? Dean couldn't hold back the thought, but as soon as it manifested he pushed it away. Not now. Those days are long over.
"Thanks anyway, Jo." Sam nodded at her to leave, and Dean snickered when she rolled her eyes but exited, shutting the door firmly behind her. It promptly opened again and Benny walked in, taking a stance near the door after closing it in Jo's startled face. "What, you brought your watchdog? Afraid to face me alone, Dean? And it's Assistant District Attorney Winchester."
"Just want a witness, Sammy." Dean looked around the office. It was all plain wood furniture and boring abstract art prints on the walls. "This the best they can do for you? I thought high-falutin' lawyers had all the plush perks."
"I work for the city, not a fancy firm." Sam went behind his desk and sat down. "Let's talk about something else, like what kind of crap goes on in your brothel and drug den, not about my office."
"I provide personal entertainment in a private setting. And there are no illegal substances involved." Dean waved a hand. "Is that all?"
Sam frowned. "That's completely untrue and you know it. You and your whores sell drugs there as well. You know it and I know it and even your hired ape over there knows it."
Dean leaned forward, dropping the air of casual amusement. "I have several escorts and entertainers in my employ. Let me remind you that sex work, in a properly licensed establishment such as Iniquity, is in fact perfectly legal. And I do not allow drugs inside my door. No coke, no speed, no E, or any other letter of the alphabet. I don't even offer weed, despite the fact that it is legal."
Sam stood up and rested his hands on his desk. "You have several substances that are not legal and you know it! I have reports of exotic superna-"
"I don't have anything like that on the premises!" Dean stood up, facing Sam directly across the desk. "So simmer down, Legal Eagle, admit you don't have anything on me, and leave me the fuck alone!"
They stared at each other angrily. Dean's body thrummed with Sam's proximity. In his mind's eye, Dean flashed on grabbing Sam and kissing him, replacing the hot anger on his face with hot desire instead. Reminding Sam what they were to each other, what they could still be, if Sam just-
"Dean?" Benny coughed. "We all done here or what?"
Dean came to himself with a little shake. Sam's eyes glared into his, the crystalline green-blue of them clouded with anger but still stunning.
"Yeah, I think so. Assistant District Attorney?" Dean stepped back and gave a slight bow. "Please feel free to contact my office if you have any other questions."
"Oh, I do, Dean. And I will." Sam crossed his meaty arms over his chest, and Dean took a second to appreciate how they bulged under the fabric. "This isn't over."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Lawyer Boy." Dean turned and waved as he and Benny walked out the door.
Dean sighed with relief when they got back to Iniquity. He tore off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them onto the armchair in his office while he made a beeline for the bar. He poured a quick shot of Jack, threw it down his throat, immediately pouring both a second for him as well as one for Benny.
Benny took his glass and they toasted silently. Benny reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a cold water bottle for Dean, who took it gratefully.
"Never gets easier, eh?" Benny asked sympathetically.
"God, why is it still so hard to face off against him?" Dean complained, plopping on to the couch. "Tell me I didn't show anything."
"Nope, you had the brass ones on today," Benny chuckled. "And give yourself a break. He may be your biggest pain in the ass, but he's still your brother. Despite him being a giant and Mr. By-the-Book, inside he is your little brother and you can't help reacting to that."
That wasn't all he was, thought Dean, but he'd never shared that part of his history with Benny and he wasn't going to start now.
"What else is on today's agenda, now that we are done with that for the moment?" he asked instead, ready to change the subject.
Benny thumbed at his phone. "Ah! Rowena is coming by today. It's time for the six-month warding reset."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm really in the mood for her," he said sarcastically. Benny laughed.
Rowena arrived at one p.m., gliding into the brothel with a grand flourish of her skirt. As usual, she was resplendent in copper curls, exotic makeup, and a floor-length gown, this one in sapphire blue crushed velvet.
"Hello, Dean." She smiled broadly at him, her white teeth showing off the crimson of her lipstick. "Benny." She acknowledged him with a nod. "I'm here to reset the wards."
Dean had contracted with Rowena to set wards around the brothel for both keeping certain supes out and also keeping his people safely in. Only the supes he employed could pass through the wards; they were equipped with an amulet that allowed them access. Dean didn't allow any supes in as guests, or at least on the rare occasion he did, he gave them a temporary charm that only lasted for the one visit.
These wards needed recharging regularly to stay at full potency, so every six months Rowena came by to perform the recharging ritual. Dean was grateful for her services and competency, but he found her grandiose and provocative manner somewhat trying at times. Like today, when he was already strung out from dealing with his brother.
Rowena stopped in front of Dean, eyeing him speculatively.
"What's with the dour face, Dean?" She tapped her crimson lips with one matching crimson nail. "Had a stressful morning, did we?" Her eyes flicked from his face down to his crotch and back again.
Dean glared at her. Could she see inside him, see the effect Sam had had on him? "Never mind. Just. . . do your thing." He waved one hand around. "Have at it and move along."
She pursed her lips. "Now, Dean, don't take your bad mood out on me. Besides, your aura is far too dark and knotty for you to be here. Your angst will get the magic all riled up, and the wards won't set properly. That can be dangerous, and I won't be responsible for any resultant mishaps."
Dean gritted his teeth to keep himself from cursing at the witch. She might be annoying, but she was also quite powerful, and he didn't need to lose her services or her good will. "Fine. I'll send Madison in to help do whatever is necessary. Benny, I'm sure we have business elsewhere."
He strode out of his office, although not fast enough to avoid seeing Benny wink at Rowena and her answering simper.
Once they were outside of the building, Dean turned to his lieutenant. "Dammit, Benny, tell me you aren't porking the bitch."
Benny 's eyes widened and he held his hands up. "No, I'm not. Just a little flirting." He smirked. "She brings out the French in my blood."
Dean grimaced. "Ugh, there's an image I don't need to see." He checked his watch. "Fine, so what are we going to do this afternoon now? She'll need a good couple of hours. God forbid I disturb her with my 'dark and knotty aura'."
"Well, how about we lighten and untangle that aura with a good sauna and massage?" Benny asked. "That'll put you back right with the world."
Dean thought it over. He definitely could use a mood-changer. A little pampering sounded like just the ticket. "Sure, that sounds great."
They went to a masseuse they liked to frequent. Carmen Porter, a sultry Latina woman, used to be a nurse, but had quit when the pay stayed down and the workload went up. Instead, she'd gotten licensed as a massage therapist, using all of her anatomy know-how to provide soothing or invigorating massages. She'd opened her own place now, and had a couple of other masseuses working with her. There was no funny business at Carmen's Tranquility Oasis, no hanky-panky or happy endings; just soothing music, aromatic incense, and strong hands that worked out any knots or tension and left one boneless and relaxed. She'd recently expanded her place to include various spa treatments as well.
Benny and Dean opted for a little dip in the seaweed and mud bath first, followed by a refreshing green tea and lemongrass shower. After enjoying some cooling cucumber water, they were laid out on two massage beds with Carmen working on Dean and one of her assistants, Andrea, working on Benny.
Dean huffed softly while Carmen manipulated his arms and hands in long slow movements, releasing stress and stretching his muscles. He let his mind drift into a pleasing doze, where crystalline blue-green eyes and dark hair drifted through misty clouds.
After an hour under Carmen's hands, Dean felt like a new man. He sat up, smiling at her and raising his hand that he was done. "Excellent as always, baby. Thank you." He dropped a kiss on her cheek while he gathered up his towel and headed off to the dressing room. Benny hopped off his table and followed.
They finished up by lying outside on bamboo chaises situated near the pond in the spa's garden. The soothing sound of water trickling over a small stone waterfall filled the air and glasses of cool mojitos filled their hands.
"I've never asked, you know," Benny said, sipping on his mojito.
"Asked what?"
"What happened to the brothers' Winchester. How you took this path and Sam took that one, and what originally created the divide." Benny leaned his head back against the chaise. "I always figured one day you'd just talk about it."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I'm such a chatty guy." Benny snickered. Dean thought for a moment. "My dad-he was. . . not an up-and-up guy. He didn't really worry about having a job. It was all card games, a hustle here and there, pulling some kind of shady deal. We were always on the move. . . well, a lot of the time anyway. Always headed to the next deal, the next big game. And if we weren't traveling to that, we were running from the cops, or the local sheriff, or even just angry marks."
Thanks to the relaxation of the massage and the drink, Dean's memories were flowing now, and they weren't all that pleasant. "Me and Sammy, we just--we were incidental to his life. He managed to mostly keep us fed and housed, if you can call living in crap motels and squatting in empty houses housed. I quit school in high school, but Sammy stuck it out, even with the constant transferring." He smiled, closing his eyes and remembering a thin, intense boy who was always reading. "He just studied his ass off all the time. So freakin' smart. Got into an Ivy League school, even with our ragtag history. Full ride, you know? Everything paid for, because he's a fucking genius."
Dean had to stop for a moment; his throat was suddenly choked with emotion, and his heart ached. God, how he'd loved that boy. Still did. Despite the years and antagonism between them, the gulf between the different paths they'd chosen, Dean's heart still belonged to Sam. Friends, lovers, success-Dean had all of these. But he didn't have his Sammy, and that would always be an ache inside him, deep down to his core.
Dean's eyes had closed while he remembered, and he opened them to find Benny's blue ones studying him.
"Uh huh," Benny said. He didn't know, of course. Dean hadn't told him about the role Sam had ended up playing in Dean's life. He'd never told anyone. Benny's gaze was intent, and Dean felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Benny was well-versed in the quirks of life and had surprised Dean more than once with his astuteness.
"It really started when my mother left," Dean said, partly in an effort to break that steady gaze on him. "That's when my dad started kinda losing it. Like, he just didn't care about anything except escaping into poker and crap games, or the thrill of the hustle."
"Why did she leave? Were you just a kid then? Sounds like most of your life was a shitshow." Benny's voice was soft, easy to listen to and answer.
Dean closed his eyes again. He still had a memory of his mother's face; all fair skin, blonde curls, a sweet smile. It was a little vague, like a slightly blurred photo that's been worn over time.
"She was. . . overwhelmed? Fed up with Dad? I don't really know, I guess. I was around 4 and Sammy was a baby. My dad never got into explaining what happened." He paused to reflect. "Dad put Sammy in my arms one day and said it was just us now. And that's all I know, because he never talked about her again."
"Really? Never talked about her again? That's kind of weird." Benny hummed a second. "Although if she just up and left, that's not something a man likes to think about."
"Nope. Not a word. And if I said anything, he'd shut me down. Sammy-'course he doesn't have any memories, he was just a baby. And he learned real quick not to ask Dad anything. He'd ask me, but I couldn't tell him much."
"Wow, that really sucks." Benny tsked. "So then your father just-"
"Yeah. And I got sucked into that life, and Sam rebelled against it. Only I learned how to do things a thousand times better than my dad did, so he died broke, and I-I'm here getting this sweet massage. Later I'll drink some excellent liquor, have a fine meal, and then I'll fuck my hot, beautiful lover. So I'm good."
Benny was silent, and Dean felt drained from everything he'd said. He didn't often take the time to reflect on the past; it seemed pointless, what was done was done and you just had to move on from there. Rehashing it made him feel a little raw, like he'd pulled off a protective coating that shielded him from emotional issues like this. He needed to break the reverie it had put him in, get back to the now that was his real life.
* * * SW * * *
After a quick sandwich at his desk for lunch, Sam went to meet with his superior. District Attorney Fergus Crowley was a short, burly man, balding and bearded, with sharp eyes and an affable facade that concealed a shrewd mind. Sam had learned a lot from his boss, including where his own personal moral boundaries lay. Crowley's were a little more. . . flexible.
"Samuel! Sit down." Crowley gestured to the chair across from his desk. "I want to discuss this Iniquity issue."
Sam sat with a slight internal groan. This case was beginning to dominate his time and thoughts, and the more it did, the more aggravated and angry he became. It was starting to bleed into the rest of his life, and he wondered if that-along with having to confront Dean on a regular basis now-was what was triggering fresh memories of his unfortunate childhood. He couldn't imagine what pressure Crowley was now going to add.
"I just met with Dean Winchester this morning and got nowhere." Sam pressed his lips together, trying to parse his thoughts in a suitable manner. "I was thinking-"
"Ah yes, thinking. Well, stop thinking for the moment. An idea has been broached that I'm seriously considering." Crowley sat back in his executive chair. "In fact, I think we'll implement this plan as soon as possible."
Sam gaped at him. A plan? One that Sam had had no idea of or input into?
"I thought-this is my case, who's-"
Crowley snapped his fingers at Sam's outburst. "Quiet! I know this is your case, but there's been no headway in weeks. We even had Dean locked up overnight and we still couldn't shake anything loose. No, it's time to move onto a different stratagem." He pressed a button on the phone/intercom on his desk and said, "Meg, will you send Mr. Henriksen in now?"
Sam sat silently fuming, trying to stifle his anger at being overridden like some newbie intern. The door to Crowley's office opened and his assistant Meg stepped in. Meg Masters was a dark-haired woman with a round kewpie-doll face and deceptively mild manner that masked a somewhat shrewish nature. Her white blouse and dark skirt were perfectly appropriate for a legal office, but somehow the blouse pulled a bit too much over her small, firm breasts and the skirt was a hair too tight across her little round ass.
Her crimson lips smirked at Sam before smiling professionally at Crowley. "Mr. Henriksen, sir. I've given him the file containing the background of the case, and he's up to speed." She turned and ushered in a handsome Black man, whose square jaw and solid build exemplified the idea of stalwart, law-abiding men. "Victor Henriksen, Fergus Crowley." She smirked again at Sam. "Oh, and Samuel Winchester." Meg withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
Henriksen looked quizzically at Sam. "Winchester? As in-"
"Yes. Dean Winchester, owner and proprietor of Iniquity. He's my. . . " Sam cleared his throat. "He's my brother."
Henriksen's eyes widened, and his full lips silently said 'oh.' Turning to Crowley, he stuck his hand out. "Victor Henriksen, FBI."
Sam groaned internally. Great, a Fed. Just what we needed. Someone to get underfoot and then claim all the credit.
Crowley stood and shook Henriksen's hand. "Pleased to meet you. Sam is our Assistant District Attorney on this case." He waved to another chair. "Please, sit down."
Henriksen sat, shooting Sam another curious look. "What is the reason for the brother of the man we are investigating being here? Is he to be trusted? It seems an egregious conflict of interest."
Crowley came around from behind the desk, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, it's unusual, to be sure. However, I felt that Samuel here has greater insight into Dean, and we need every asset we have to nail him. Only now we're rather stuck, which is why I asked for an outside Federal agent to join us."
Henriksen nodded. "Okay. I've read the file your assistant prepared, so I have the background of the situation. From what I understand, you want to close down the brothel known as Iniquity and prosecute Dean Winchester for drug dealing. We, the FBI, want to investigate the possibility that he's money laundering for other criminal interests in the area." He looked over at Sam. "The file didn't specify what drugs are being dealt there. Cocaine? Heroin?"
Sam cleared his throat. "We suspect at the least there is vampire venom and djinn juice. There may be other. . . psychotropic fluids such as siren saliva, but that rumor is unsubstantiated."
Henriksen stared at him. "What? I never heard of-what do those things even do?" He frowned. "Technically, I'm not sure those are even classified as illegal."
"Well, they should be! They're unregulated as of now, but they're dangerous and potentially lethal. That's part of what we want to accomplish." Sam leaned forward in his chair. "They use supes to produce these. . . substances. . . and then sell them off for their clients' use. So they're exploiting the supes, and then distributing dangerous materials to humans."
"What does the vampire venom and-djinn? What does djinn juice do?" Henriksen shook his head. "Wow, things I've never heard myself say before."
"Vampire venom, ahh well," Crowley pronounced. "Gives one a feeling of euphoria and power. And a very healthy sex drive, which the prostitutes then sell their services to satisfy." He flicked his eyes between Sam and Henriksen. "I understand that the, ah, pleasure is both vigorous and visceral."
"Siren saliva is a potent aphrodisiac even in minute quantities. Djinn are noted for putting people into what amounts to a delusional trance or coma," Sam explained. "They live out their fantasy life, while the djinn drinks some of their life essence in order to manufacture more juice. It's fatal when unsupervised. What we've heard about it being used is that the client experiences a light trance that they are unharmed in." He snorted. "At least, physically."
"Wow," Henriksen commented. "This is about the trippiest thing I ever heard of."
Sam continued the narrative. "Djinn juice actually has possibilities as a beneficial psychotropic drug. It's being studied in laboratories now, much as LSD, psilocybin, and ketamine have been to target mental illnesses like schizophrenia."
"Of course, that's not what we think is happening at Iniquity. Anything going on there is solely to service base urges," Crowley interjected.
Henriksen nodded. "I see we have our work cut out for us. In addition to those concerns, however, the FBI is suspicious that Iniquity is serving as a money laundering center for various criminal organizations." He looked at Crowley with a frown. "Please don't tell me that this possibility hadn't occurred to you."
Crowley coughed, which Sam knew was his tell for when he'd been caught off-guard and was covering for a moment.
"Of course it did," Crowley answered gruffly. "We were primarily concerned about the drug angle, but the money laundering is certainly an area of interest as well."
Sam mentally rolled his eyes. Money laundering hadn't even been a blip on the D.A. office's radar until Henriksen mentioned it.
Oblivious to Crowley's discomfiture, Henriksen carried on. "I do have a suggestion of where to begin though. I think we need to send someone in undercover, get some real information about what is going on inside, both about the money and the drugs."
Crowley shook his head. "We considered that approach. Dean keeps wards up on the building. Primarily it's to keep anyone from attacking or hurting his stable, but it's strong and all-encompassing enough that the couple of times we've tried to slip someone in as a would-be client, they've been revealed and promptly ejected."
Henriksen nodded. "Yes, I saw that in the file. This time, we'll come in from a different angle." He smiled. "We'll send in a witch."
Both Sam and Crowley stared at him in surprise.
"We have a pair of agents, brother and sister." Henriksen cleared his throat. "Twins actually. He's quite a strong witch. She's not magically gifted, but she's smart, shrewd, a capable fighter, and beautiful. Her beauty is their ticket into Iniquity." Henriksen shuffled to another paper. "Alicia Banes. Her brother, the witch, is Max Banes. With her looks to gain entry and his spellwork to elude the wards, we figure they can get inside Iniquity and suss out some info."
He handed a printed photo to Sam, who took it and looked it over. Alicia Banes was a beautiful young Black woman; dark eyes, long wavy hair, full lips, oval face. Standing next to her was a handsome young Black man, with hair cut close to his scalp, high cheekbones, and the same full mouth.
"They're certainly attractive," Sam managed to say. He was surprised at their apparent youth, as well as struck by their good looks.
"Yes, they are. We're pinning a lot on both that and his skill as a witch." Henriksen put his papers back into a file folder. "We're inserting them within the week."
"Excellent," Crowley said, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to see what they are able to ferret out."
"Yeah," said Sam. "Can't wait." He couldn't help feeling some dread about the operation; he wasn't sure Henriksen truly understood Dean's wily nature and his ability to avoid any attack.
Sam didn't mention to the other two men that when he'd looked at the photo of the twins, he'd seen skulls blooming beneath their lovely features.
On to Part 3
* * * DW * * *
"Well, don't you look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary," Benny chuckled, leaning back in the back-corner booth of Dean's favorite diner, The Roadhouse. "Sit down and have a cup. The waiter will be right here, I told him to come over soon as you got here."
"Ate something all right, but wasn't a stupid canary," Dean replied with a smirk. He slid onto the rusty brown pleather-cushioned bench and watched Benny pour a cup of steaming black goodness into a thick white china mug. Dean was rich, but he still loved The Roadhouse with its plain, homey feel and plain, solid food. He'd found it soon after buying the building that had become Iniquity. Even with the wealth and power he'd since accrued, it was his favorite spot to meet Benny for breakfast. Especially on a day that looked to be as trying as today did.
Benny raised his eyebrows. "Start the day with a bang, didja?" He winked. "That Lisa, she's a honey."
"She is indeed," Dean agreed, sipping the hot coffee with a sigh of pleasure. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting long."
"Hope you didn't keep her waiting long," Benny retorted. "Best way to start the day." They both laughed.
"Yeah, can't complain." Dean's stomach growled. "Worked up an appetite though."
The waiter approached their booth. "I'm happy to take your order, if you're ready," he said politely.
Dean looked at him with a slight frown. "You new here?"
"Yes, I'm Kevin, Kevin Tran. I just started last week." Kevin bobbed his head. He was a young Asian man with thick, dark hair in a bowl cut. Dean thought he might be twenty, but barely.
Dean was always wary about new people in places he considered safe. "Never know who's going to try sneaking into our business," he would remind his security team. To Dean, that included places like this diner. He made a mental note to have Benny check this kid out.
"I'll have an egg, bacon, and cheese on an everything bagel, bacon extra crisp. French fries instead of home fries." Dean motioned to the coffee carafe. "And another one of these."
"Of course," Kevin replied. He turned to Benny. "And for you, sir?"
"Steak and eggs, steak extra rare and eggs nice and runny," Benny answered.
Kevin nodded and scurried off.
"You ready to see little bro?" Benny studied Dean over his coffee cup. "I suspect he's going to be loaded for bear after the last time."
Dean snorted. "Sam is nothing if not persistent. Also smarter than anyone should be." He didn't comment on how having those smarts on his side was terrific, but facing them was a giant pain.
"Yeah, no flies on that boy." Benny smiled at Kevin, who returned with their plates. "Or this one. What a cute little thing you are, Kevin. You got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"
Kevin looked between Benny and Dean, his dark eyes darting nervously. "Um, no, neither. I'm studying too much to, um, date. I'm an AP student-Advanced Placement-and I'm in the middle of applying to colleges. I'm working here for extra money for my tuition."
"Oh, are ya?" Benny winked at Dean, who smiled, knowing where Benny was going with this conversation. Benny enjoyed both men and women, favoring petite ones. It always amused Dean how Benny, formidable when he needed to be, was a cuddly teddy bear with his lovers. "Well, cher, I could maybe help you with that problem. I happen to like pretty boys like you." He leaned closer to Kevin, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rumble. "Think we could go on a. . . date?"
Kevin trembled, his hand shaking when he tried to pour coffee into Dean's mug and slopping it on the table instead. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I'll be right back with a towel!" He scurried off again.
"You scared the lad," Dean said, biting into his breakfast sandwich. "Isn't he a little. . . little for you?"
"Oh, he looks so light and flexible! And he is pretty. I won't hurt the boy, just give him his first orgasm, by the look of things." Benny chuckled and dug into his bloody steak. "No biting or anything, just some sweet sweet lovin'."
"You do you, I can't do the twink thing," Dean said. "And yes, I can't say I'm entirely looking forward to this meeting but I gotta do what I gotta do."
"Well, let's eat up and go face the lion in his den then." Benny took a napkin and wrote his number on it. When Kevin returned and mopped up the coffee, Benny hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and pulled him close. "Here, mon doux petit, give me a call and we can go out for ice cream, or something innocent like that, oui?" He leaned over and quickly kissed Kevin's cheek. "Mm mm, yes."
Kevin's eyes were round and wide and his cheeks pinked under the kiss. He didn't look adverse to the suggestion though, Dean thought, and decided he'd be amused to see how this played out.
"Yeah, eat up indeed," he murmured, and Benny laughed loudly.
* * * DW * * *
Striding confidently into Sam's office, Dean watched Jo Harvelle's eyes dilate when she looked up at him. He knew she'd had a thing for him forever, since her first days working for Sam, and he knew he looked pretty good in his well-fitted charcoal gray suit. He would never act on his advantage with her; she was totally not his type, to begin with, and he wasn't going to play in his brother's pool. It was fun to flirt with her though and watch her attraction to him war with her self-righteousness.
"Could you let your boss know I'm here for our meeting, sweetcheeks?" He gave her a big smile. Her cheeks flushed as he leaned over her desk. "Looking pretty fine there, darlin'. New 'do?"
"I-uh-" she stammered before collecting herself. "Yes, I'll tell him. Excuse me."
Dean winked at her, then watched appreciatively as she came out from behind her desk and walked briskly over to Sam's door. Just because he'd never tap that didn't mean he didn't like to observe. Behind him, he heard Benny stifle a laugh.
"Dean Winchester is here," Jo announced, opening the door to Sam's office and stepping inside. "Do you want him-"
"I'll see myself in," Dean said as he breezed in past her. "Coffee, black, okay? Thanks, doll-face." He walked over to one of the chairs facing Sam's desk and sat down, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and slinging one arm on the chair's arm. "Hey there, Sammy."
He acted relaxed and casual, but as always, the moment he saw Sam, Dean felt the tug of old emotions. Sam was a far cry from the coltish teenager he'd been during their shared youth. He'd outgrown Dean height-wise, now a good four or five inches taller. Big and strong now instead of rangy and wiry, his waist was still slim but his upper body was packed with muscles that even beneath his suit could easily be discerned. Strong angles defined his face, with high cheekbones, an imposing forehead, and a sharp nose. Dark hair still swung into his eyes sometimes though, since Sam kept it longer than one would expect for someone in his professional position but it suited him, the wave of it softening what might otherwise be a harsh face.
Goddamnit, why did he have to be so fucking attractive? Dean couldn't hold back the thought, but as soon as it manifested he pushed it away. Not now. Those days are long over.
"Thanks anyway, Jo." Sam nodded at her to leave, and Dean snickered when she rolled her eyes but exited, shutting the door firmly behind her. It promptly opened again and Benny walked in, taking a stance near the door after closing it in Jo's startled face. "What, you brought your watchdog? Afraid to face me alone, Dean? And it's Assistant District Attorney Winchester."
"Just want a witness, Sammy." Dean looked around the office. It was all plain wood furniture and boring abstract art prints on the walls. "This the best they can do for you? I thought high-falutin' lawyers had all the plush perks."
"I work for the city, not a fancy firm." Sam went behind his desk and sat down. "Let's talk about something else, like what kind of crap goes on in your brothel and drug den, not about my office."
"I provide personal entertainment in a private setting. And there are no illegal substances involved." Dean waved a hand. "Is that all?"
Sam frowned. "That's completely untrue and you know it. You and your whores sell drugs there as well. You know it and I know it and even your hired ape over there knows it."
Dean leaned forward, dropping the air of casual amusement. "I have several escorts and entertainers in my employ. Let me remind you that sex work, in a properly licensed establishment such as Iniquity, is in fact perfectly legal. And I do not allow drugs inside my door. No coke, no speed, no E, or any other letter of the alphabet. I don't even offer weed, despite the fact that it is legal."
Sam stood up and rested his hands on his desk. "You have several substances that are not legal and you know it! I have reports of exotic superna-"
"I don't have anything like that on the premises!" Dean stood up, facing Sam directly across the desk. "So simmer down, Legal Eagle, admit you don't have anything on me, and leave me the fuck alone!"
They stared at each other angrily. Dean's body thrummed with Sam's proximity. In his mind's eye, Dean flashed on grabbing Sam and kissing him, replacing the hot anger on his face with hot desire instead. Reminding Sam what they were to each other, what they could still be, if Sam just-
"Dean?" Benny coughed. "We all done here or what?"
Dean came to himself with a little shake. Sam's eyes glared into his, the crystalline green-blue of them clouded with anger but still stunning.
"Yeah, I think so. Assistant District Attorney?" Dean stepped back and gave a slight bow. "Please feel free to contact my office if you have any other questions."
"Oh, I do, Dean. And I will." Sam crossed his meaty arms over his chest, and Dean took a second to appreciate how they bulged under the fabric. "This isn't over."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Lawyer Boy." Dean turned and waved as he and Benny walked out the door.
Dean sighed with relief when they got back to Iniquity. He tore off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them onto the armchair in his office while he made a beeline for the bar. He poured a quick shot of Jack, threw it down his throat, immediately pouring both a second for him as well as one for Benny.
Benny took his glass and they toasted silently. Benny reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a cold water bottle for Dean, who took it gratefully.
"Never gets easier, eh?" Benny asked sympathetically.
"God, why is it still so hard to face off against him?" Dean complained, plopping on to the couch. "Tell me I didn't show anything."
"Nope, you had the brass ones on today," Benny chuckled. "And give yourself a break. He may be your biggest pain in the ass, but he's still your brother. Despite him being a giant and Mr. By-the-Book, inside he is your little brother and you can't help reacting to that."
That wasn't all he was, thought Dean, but he'd never shared that part of his history with Benny and he wasn't going to start now.
"What else is on today's agenda, now that we are done with that for the moment?" he asked instead, ready to change the subject.
Benny thumbed at his phone. "Ah! Rowena is coming by today. It's time for the six-month warding reset."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm really in the mood for her," he said sarcastically. Benny laughed.
Rowena arrived at one p.m., gliding into the brothel with a grand flourish of her skirt. As usual, she was resplendent in copper curls, exotic makeup, and a floor-length gown, this one in sapphire blue crushed velvet.
"Hello, Dean." She smiled broadly at him, her white teeth showing off the crimson of her lipstick. "Benny." She acknowledged him with a nod. "I'm here to reset the wards."
Dean had contracted with Rowena to set wards around the brothel for both keeping certain supes out and also keeping his people safely in. Only the supes he employed could pass through the wards; they were equipped with an amulet that allowed them access. Dean didn't allow any supes in as guests, or at least on the rare occasion he did, he gave them a temporary charm that only lasted for the one visit.
These wards needed recharging regularly to stay at full potency, so every six months Rowena came by to perform the recharging ritual. Dean was grateful for her services and competency, but he found her grandiose and provocative manner somewhat trying at times. Like today, when he was already strung out from dealing with his brother.
Rowena stopped in front of Dean, eyeing him speculatively.
"What's with the dour face, Dean?" She tapped her crimson lips with one matching crimson nail. "Had a stressful morning, did we?" Her eyes flicked from his face down to his crotch and back again.
Dean glared at her. Could she see inside him, see the effect Sam had had on him? "Never mind. Just. . . do your thing." He waved one hand around. "Have at it and move along."
She pursed her lips. "Now, Dean, don't take your bad mood out on me. Besides, your aura is far too dark and knotty for you to be here. Your angst will get the magic all riled up, and the wards won't set properly. That can be dangerous, and I won't be responsible for any resultant mishaps."
Dean gritted his teeth to keep himself from cursing at the witch. She might be annoying, but she was also quite powerful, and he didn't need to lose her services or her good will. "Fine. I'll send Madison in to help do whatever is necessary. Benny, I'm sure we have business elsewhere."
He strode out of his office, although not fast enough to avoid seeing Benny wink at Rowena and her answering simper.
Once they were outside of the building, Dean turned to his lieutenant. "Dammit, Benny, tell me you aren't porking the bitch."
Benny 's eyes widened and he held his hands up. "No, I'm not. Just a little flirting." He smirked. "She brings out the French in my blood."
Dean grimaced. "Ugh, there's an image I don't need to see." He checked his watch. "Fine, so what are we going to do this afternoon now? She'll need a good couple of hours. God forbid I disturb her with my 'dark and knotty aura'."
"Well, how about we lighten and untangle that aura with a good sauna and massage?" Benny asked. "That'll put you back right with the world."
Dean thought it over. He definitely could use a mood-changer. A little pampering sounded like just the ticket. "Sure, that sounds great."
They went to a masseuse they liked to frequent. Carmen Porter, a sultry Latina woman, used to be a nurse, but had quit when the pay stayed down and the workload went up. Instead, she'd gotten licensed as a massage therapist, using all of her anatomy know-how to provide soothing or invigorating massages. She'd opened her own place now, and had a couple of other masseuses working with her. There was no funny business at Carmen's Tranquility Oasis, no hanky-panky or happy endings; just soothing music, aromatic incense, and strong hands that worked out any knots or tension and left one boneless and relaxed. She'd recently expanded her place to include various spa treatments as well.
Benny and Dean opted for a little dip in the seaweed and mud bath first, followed by a refreshing green tea and lemongrass shower. After enjoying some cooling cucumber water, they were laid out on two massage beds with Carmen working on Dean and one of her assistants, Andrea, working on Benny.
Dean huffed softly while Carmen manipulated his arms and hands in long slow movements, releasing stress and stretching his muscles. He let his mind drift into a pleasing doze, where crystalline blue-green eyes and dark hair drifted through misty clouds.
After an hour under Carmen's hands, Dean felt like a new man. He sat up, smiling at her and raising his hand that he was done. "Excellent as always, baby. Thank you." He dropped a kiss on her cheek while he gathered up his towel and headed off to the dressing room. Benny hopped off his table and followed.
They finished up by lying outside on bamboo chaises situated near the pond in the spa's garden. The soothing sound of water trickling over a small stone waterfall filled the air and glasses of cool mojitos filled their hands.
"I've never asked, you know," Benny said, sipping on his mojito.
"Asked what?"
"What happened to the brothers' Winchester. How you took this path and Sam took that one, and what originally created the divide." Benny leaned his head back against the chaise. "I always figured one day you'd just talk about it."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I'm such a chatty guy." Benny snickered. Dean thought for a moment. "My dad-he was. . . not an up-and-up guy. He didn't really worry about having a job. It was all card games, a hustle here and there, pulling some kind of shady deal. We were always on the move. . . well, a lot of the time anyway. Always headed to the next deal, the next big game. And if we weren't traveling to that, we were running from the cops, or the local sheriff, or even just angry marks."
Thanks to the relaxation of the massage and the drink, Dean's memories were flowing now, and they weren't all that pleasant. "Me and Sammy, we just--we were incidental to his life. He managed to mostly keep us fed and housed, if you can call living in crap motels and squatting in empty houses housed. I quit school in high school, but Sammy stuck it out, even with the constant transferring." He smiled, closing his eyes and remembering a thin, intense boy who was always reading. "He just studied his ass off all the time. So freakin' smart. Got into an Ivy League school, even with our ragtag history. Full ride, you know? Everything paid for, because he's a fucking genius."
Dean had to stop for a moment; his throat was suddenly choked with emotion, and his heart ached. God, how he'd loved that boy. Still did. Despite the years and antagonism between them, the gulf between the different paths they'd chosen, Dean's heart still belonged to Sam. Friends, lovers, success-Dean had all of these. But he didn't have his Sammy, and that would always be an ache inside him, deep down to his core.
Dean's eyes had closed while he remembered, and he opened them to find Benny's blue ones studying him.
"Uh huh," Benny said. He didn't know, of course. Dean hadn't told him about the role Sam had ended up playing in Dean's life. He'd never told anyone. Benny's gaze was intent, and Dean felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Benny was well-versed in the quirks of life and had surprised Dean more than once with his astuteness.
"It really started when my mother left," Dean said, partly in an effort to break that steady gaze on him. "That's when my dad started kinda losing it. Like, he just didn't care about anything except escaping into poker and crap games, or the thrill of the hustle."
"Why did she leave? Were you just a kid then? Sounds like most of your life was a shitshow." Benny's voice was soft, easy to listen to and answer.
Dean closed his eyes again. He still had a memory of his mother's face; all fair skin, blonde curls, a sweet smile. It was a little vague, like a slightly blurred photo that's been worn over time.
"She was. . . overwhelmed? Fed up with Dad? I don't really know, I guess. I was around 4 and Sammy was a baby. My dad never got into explaining what happened." He paused to reflect. "Dad put Sammy in my arms one day and said it was just us now. And that's all I know, because he never talked about her again."
"Really? Never talked about her again? That's kind of weird." Benny hummed a second. "Although if she just up and left, that's not something a man likes to think about."
"Nope. Not a word. And if I said anything, he'd shut me down. Sammy-'course he doesn't have any memories, he was just a baby. And he learned real quick not to ask Dad anything. He'd ask me, but I couldn't tell him much."
"Wow, that really sucks." Benny tsked. "So then your father just-"
"Yeah. And I got sucked into that life, and Sam rebelled against it. Only I learned how to do things a thousand times better than my dad did, so he died broke, and I-I'm here getting this sweet massage. Later I'll drink some excellent liquor, have a fine meal, and then I'll fuck my hot, beautiful lover. So I'm good."
Benny was silent, and Dean felt drained from everything he'd said. He didn't often take the time to reflect on the past; it seemed pointless, what was done was done and you just had to move on from there. Rehashing it made him feel a little raw, like he'd pulled off a protective coating that shielded him from emotional issues like this. He needed to break the reverie it had put him in, get back to the now that was his real life.
* * * SW * * *
After a quick sandwich at his desk for lunch, Sam went to meet with his superior. District Attorney Fergus Crowley was a short, burly man, balding and bearded, with sharp eyes and an affable facade that concealed a shrewd mind. Sam had learned a lot from his boss, including where his own personal moral boundaries lay. Crowley's were a little more. . . flexible.
"Samuel! Sit down." Crowley gestured to the chair across from his desk. "I want to discuss this Iniquity issue."
Sam sat with a slight internal groan. This case was beginning to dominate his time and thoughts, and the more it did, the more aggravated and angry he became. It was starting to bleed into the rest of his life, and he wondered if that-along with having to confront Dean on a regular basis now-was what was triggering fresh memories of his unfortunate childhood. He couldn't imagine what pressure Crowley was now going to add.
"I just met with Dean Winchester this morning and got nowhere." Sam pressed his lips together, trying to parse his thoughts in a suitable manner. "I was thinking-"
"Ah yes, thinking. Well, stop thinking for the moment. An idea has been broached that I'm seriously considering." Crowley sat back in his executive chair. "In fact, I think we'll implement this plan as soon as possible."
Sam gaped at him. A plan? One that Sam had had no idea of or input into?
"I thought-this is my case, who's-"
Crowley snapped his fingers at Sam's outburst. "Quiet! I know this is your case, but there's been no headway in weeks. We even had Dean locked up overnight and we still couldn't shake anything loose. No, it's time to move onto a different stratagem." He pressed a button on the phone/intercom on his desk and said, "Meg, will you send Mr. Henriksen in now?"
Sam sat silently fuming, trying to stifle his anger at being overridden like some newbie intern. The door to Crowley's office opened and his assistant Meg stepped in. Meg Masters was a dark-haired woman with a round kewpie-doll face and deceptively mild manner that masked a somewhat shrewish nature. Her white blouse and dark skirt were perfectly appropriate for a legal office, but somehow the blouse pulled a bit too much over her small, firm breasts and the skirt was a hair too tight across her little round ass.
Her crimson lips smirked at Sam before smiling professionally at Crowley. "Mr. Henriksen, sir. I've given him the file containing the background of the case, and he's up to speed." She turned and ushered in a handsome Black man, whose square jaw and solid build exemplified the idea of stalwart, law-abiding men. "Victor Henriksen, Fergus Crowley." She smirked again at Sam. "Oh, and Samuel Winchester." Meg withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
Henriksen looked quizzically at Sam. "Winchester? As in-"
"Yes. Dean Winchester, owner and proprietor of Iniquity. He's my. . . " Sam cleared his throat. "He's my brother."
Henriksen's eyes widened, and his full lips silently said 'oh.' Turning to Crowley, he stuck his hand out. "Victor Henriksen, FBI."
Sam groaned internally. Great, a Fed. Just what we needed. Someone to get underfoot and then claim all the credit.
Crowley stood and shook Henriksen's hand. "Pleased to meet you. Sam is our Assistant District Attorney on this case." He waved to another chair. "Please, sit down."
Henriksen sat, shooting Sam another curious look. "What is the reason for the brother of the man we are investigating being here? Is he to be trusted? It seems an egregious conflict of interest."
Crowley came around from behind the desk, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, it's unusual, to be sure. However, I felt that Samuel here has greater insight into Dean, and we need every asset we have to nail him. Only now we're rather stuck, which is why I asked for an outside Federal agent to join us."
Henriksen nodded. "Okay. I've read the file your assistant prepared, so I have the background of the situation. From what I understand, you want to close down the brothel known as Iniquity and prosecute Dean Winchester for drug dealing. We, the FBI, want to investigate the possibility that he's money laundering for other criminal interests in the area." He looked over at Sam. "The file didn't specify what drugs are being dealt there. Cocaine? Heroin?"
Sam cleared his throat. "We suspect at the least there is vampire venom and djinn juice. There may be other. . . psychotropic fluids such as siren saliva, but that rumor is unsubstantiated."
Henriksen stared at him. "What? I never heard of-what do those things even do?" He frowned. "Technically, I'm not sure those are even classified as illegal."
"Well, they should be! They're unregulated as of now, but they're dangerous and potentially lethal. That's part of what we want to accomplish." Sam leaned forward in his chair. "They use supes to produce these. . . substances. . . and then sell them off for their clients' use. So they're exploiting the supes, and then distributing dangerous materials to humans."
"What does the vampire venom and-djinn? What does djinn juice do?" Henriksen shook his head. "Wow, things I've never heard myself say before."
"Vampire venom, ahh well," Crowley pronounced. "Gives one a feeling of euphoria and power. And a very healthy sex drive, which the prostitutes then sell their services to satisfy." He flicked his eyes between Sam and Henriksen. "I understand that the, ah, pleasure is both vigorous and visceral."
"Siren saliva is a potent aphrodisiac even in minute quantities. Djinn are noted for putting people into what amounts to a delusional trance or coma," Sam explained. "They live out their fantasy life, while the djinn drinks some of their life essence in order to manufacture more juice. It's fatal when unsupervised. What we've heard about it being used is that the client experiences a light trance that they are unharmed in." He snorted. "At least, physically."
"Wow," Henriksen commented. "This is about the trippiest thing I ever heard of."
Sam continued the narrative. "Djinn juice actually has possibilities as a beneficial psychotropic drug. It's being studied in laboratories now, much as LSD, psilocybin, and ketamine have been to target mental illnesses like schizophrenia."
"Of course, that's not what we think is happening at Iniquity. Anything going on there is solely to service base urges," Crowley interjected.
Henriksen nodded. "I see we have our work cut out for us. In addition to those concerns, however, the FBI is suspicious that Iniquity is serving as a money laundering center for various criminal organizations." He looked at Crowley with a frown. "Please don't tell me that this possibility hadn't occurred to you."
Crowley coughed, which Sam knew was his tell for when he'd been caught off-guard and was covering for a moment.
"Of course it did," Crowley answered gruffly. "We were primarily concerned about the drug angle, but the money laundering is certainly an area of interest as well."
Sam mentally rolled his eyes. Money laundering hadn't even been a blip on the D.A. office's radar until Henriksen mentioned it.
Oblivious to Crowley's discomfiture, Henriksen carried on. "I do have a suggestion of where to begin though. I think we need to send someone in undercover, get some real information about what is going on inside, both about the money and the drugs."
Crowley shook his head. "We considered that approach. Dean keeps wards up on the building. Primarily it's to keep anyone from attacking or hurting his stable, but it's strong and all-encompassing enough that the couple of times we've tried to slip someone in as a would-be client, they've been revealed and promptly ejected."
Henriksen nodded. "Yes, I saw that in the file. This time, we'll come in from a different angle." He smiled. "We'll send in a witch."
Both Sam and Crowley stared at him in surprise.
"We have a pair of agents, brother and sister." Henriksen cleared his throat. "Twins actually. He's quite a strong witch. She's not magically gifted, but she's smart, shrewd, a capable fighter, and beautiful. Her beauty is their ticket into Iniquity." Henriksen shuffled to another paper. "Alicia Banes. Her brother, the witch, is Max Banes. With her looks to gain entry and his spellwork to elude the wards, we figure they can get inside Iniquity and suss out some info."
He handed a printed photo to Sam, who took it and looked it over. Alicia Banes was a beautiful young Black woman; dark eyes, long wavy hair, full lips, oval face. Standing next to her was a handsome young Black man, with hair cut close to his scalp, high cheekbones, and the same full mouth.
"They're certainly attractive," Sam managed to say. He was surprised at their apparent youth, as well as struck by their good looks.
"Yes, they are. We're pinning a lot on both that and his skill as a witch." Henriksen put his papers back into a file folder. "We're inserting them within the week."
"Excellent," Crowley said, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to see what they are able to ferret out."
"Yeah," said Sam. "Can't wait." He couldn't help feeling some dread about the operation; he wasn't sure Henriksen truly understood Dean's wily nature and his ability to avoid any attack.
Sam didn't mention to the other two men that when he'd looked at the photo of the twins, he'd seen skulls blooming beneath their lovely features.
On to Part 3