My Brothers' Keepers - Cut and Alternate Scenes
These are our cut scenes for My Brothers’ Keepers. A collection of things cut for pace, style, or poor homeless quotes we couldn’t make fit, all gathered for your convenience. I will admit that the majority of these scenes are mine, because I am one of those authors that likes enough background to choke a yak. brighteyed_jill went after my prose with a loving, well-honed machete, and she helped me cut out the fat in the narrative. But like any Special Edition DVD, now you can see these scenes for yourself!
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Caroline Makes Some Friends - I originally wrote this scene to be a prologue like they have in Supernatural. However, it was more fun (and relevant) to have the bit where Sam is “selling” Peter to Caroline be the prologue, so this was scrapped. This is basically how Caroline got started with her road to being a force for evil.
“Where the hell is this place Caroline?” Rourke bitched from the driver’s seat. “You said there was a place to party out here, but I haven’t seen anything but trees.” Caroline shoved her hair out of her face with her hands, and then pushed her glasses up her nose nervously.
“It’s close, just keep going,” she said deferentially.
Behind them the four other grad students grumbled in agreement with Rourke, adding a few pointed catty remarks. Caroline wasn’t part of their clique and would normally never hope to be, but she hoped tonight, if everything went right, they would become her friends.
“So, you found this place in a book?” Paula asked, not quite sneering. Caroline blushed. She was the only linguist and apprentice archivist in the grad student lounge, everyone else being in far more interesting career paths like public relations, business, sports management, anything but burying themselves in books all day, trying to read languages that had died out centuries ago.
“This site used to be… special to someone. I came out here to find it and discovered someone had built a house right on top of it, then abandoned it a while ago,” Caroline explained softly.
“So, what is it?” Cindy demanded.
“A seal,” Caroline said. Behind her, Chaz made mocking seal barks until Al plied him with another beer to shut him up.
“Seal to what?” Al asked.
“Hell, so the book says.” Everyone in the car went “ooo, aaahh,” but Caroline only shrank farther into her seat. All she ever wanted was them to be friends, for them to not mock her, to include her…
“Hey, we can have a séance or something…” Paula started.
“Don’t fucking think so!” Rourke barked. “I got a great aunt who’s seen that stuff work. That’s heavy shit, and I don’t want to screw around with it.”
“Stop being such an asshole Rourke,” Chaz complained.
“Here, it’s here, turn right and park,” Caroline said suddenly.
Everyone piled out of the car, Caroline toting her bag of books, the rest carrying their part supplies and clinking cases of booze. Rourke and the others looked around the empty clearing with increasing irritation.
“What the hell Caroline? You drag us out here for a damn joke?” Al demanded.
“No, no, it’s right over here,” Caroline said, heart pounding. A few steps forward, crossing over an invisible line, a foreign phrase muttered under her breath and-.
“Whoa, how’d I miss that?” Paula said.
Looming out of the mist of the bayou was a sprawling, decaying mansion, gleaming in the moonlight with the remnants of white paint. Caroline smiled as everyone stumbled inside, mouths agape at the old manor, and led them to the old ballroom in the center of the house.
Despite Rourke almost balking at the seal set into the stone floor, everyone else simply laughed and spread out. They hauled over old chairs and padded them with blankets, set up a portable stereo, lit lanterns, flopping down and cracking open bottles of beer and whiskey. Caroline only watched, peeking at them between pouring over her books, as they began to laugh and talk and touch around her. She was ignored, and almost preferred it that way. Midnight wasn’t far off and she had to be ready.
Caroline stared at them behind the curtain of her hair, glancing back down at the tome in her hands. It had come from this very estate as a death gift from the will, along with many others of similar age. Originally brought over from the Old World and added onto over the course of generations, the books were in a hodgepodge of tongues that no one had been able to translate. Until recently, she hadn’t been able to either, but about six months ago, everything had suddenly clicked, and now the books made sense.
She had ignored the ominous warnings in favor of the promises in its pages. Say the right words at the right times, the book informed her, and the desires of the speaker would be met. All it took were the right phrases, willpower, and belief. Caroline was ready to believe. She’d spoken words of concealment and protection over the house, and no one had seen it before she’d let them.
Now all she wanted was for these people, fellow students, beautiful, popular, and talented, to be friends with her. She wanted to share her secrets with them, like how she made herself learn about everything, including current events. Like how she knew her sudden facility with a jumble of incomprehensible tongues had little to do with her exhaustive studies… how she knew what Rourke could do with light was no parlor trick, but she wouldn’t do that until they were friends.
As midnight burned near, Paula’s tongue and inhibitions loosened in proportion to the damage she’d done to the case of beer.
“Whatcha doin’ with a book, Caroline? This is a party!” she declared.
“It’s almost midnight,” Caroline said, her tone making it a question.
“Yeah, time for the séance!” Cindy said gleefully. Rourke, half-stuporous, looked up in alarm, trying to form a protest.
“Don’t be a jerk Rourke. Why else have her along?” Chaz said, punching him in the shoulder.
Caroline bit her lip and stood at the edge of the circle. All the ever wanted was to be friends with beautiful people like this. And they would be, soon, she had to believe that. She didn’t just want to be their essay-writer, researcher, and general whipping-girl. She wanted them to like her.
Smoothing the page with great care for its age, Caroline swept her hair back and straightened her shoulders.
“Call up Elvis!” Paula suggested with a drunken laugh.
Caroline smiled slightly. She forgave Paula her arrogance, just as she forgave Cindy, Al, Chaz, and even special Rourke. Of all of them, he should have known; they should have had a bond. And they would, soon.
“Tu cara me-daris, ju kul mekindia basar!” Everyone jerked upright as Caroline thundered out the invocation. The words had to be said forcefully, but no one here had heard the mousy linguist so much as raise her voice before.
Caroline’s words seems to fill the huge room, echoing in a language not heard aloud for centuries on the surface of the Earth. She kept speaking, the words making sense to her as they would to no one but whom she was calling.
“I conjure thee, by my heart and will, by my power and words, fulfill my heart’s desire, I command you!” The strange words threatened to twist in Caroline’s mouth, but she held firm and burned her purpose into her mind. Spells like these, ancient beyond knowing, needed no candles or herbs or blood sacrifice, only the right place, right words, and right will… and Caroline wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Astarte, Carreau, Diaka, Labash, Saleos!”
At each name, she pointed at one of the group of five, standing slack-jawed and stunned. At the center of the seal, burning through the stone, came five columns of sulfurous black smoke that leapt to each of the five bodies, forcing their way inside.
Caroline shouted the final words in triumph and exultation, so pleased, so sure it had worked that she had no room for fear. The five fell to the ground for a long moment, and Caroline waited anxiously for what they’d say to her. Rourke picked himself up first; his eyes completely black as he stared at her, stared right at her as he never had before, a satisfied grin on his face.
“No bad Caroline. This one’s really special.”
“I know. I wanted to find more like me, like you…”
“I know. We can help find them,” Rourke said, his smile broadening. Caroline beamed as the others rose, all of the smiling at her.
“All I ever wanted were friends.”
“And now you have us,” Cindy said, as the rest piped up with their own comments.
“This is only a start.”
“We’ll bring more.”
“And have so much fun. All for you, sweet Caroline.”
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[WARNING] Dean/Peter “snuff” - This was the original version of the flashback scene at the beginning of the story where Dean and Peter break the bed. It started one way, picking up emotionally where Wait For Danger left off, but ended up veering straight into very dark territory. If that scene had stood, it would have overshadowed a lot of what we had going for both Dean and Peter’s story arcs, and messed up the tone. And it’s like seriously hardcore. Seriously. NC-17 for sex and gore and death.
Peter writhed underneath him, arms and legs straining against the leather belts Dean had tied him down with, his body glistening with sweat as the deep cut on his arm sealed. Dean knew he was cutting deeper tonight than he ever had been, sickly fascinated with watching Peter heal himself from any abuse. Blood already stained the comforter in too many places to count, both of their bodies smeared with the drying scarlet paint. Peter practically sobbed as he threw his head back, but as he tightened himself around Dean, Peter's cock twitched and strained between them. It was so wrong, so absolutely God-damned fucking wrong to be enjoying this as much as they both were, but Dean needed even more.
He needed to hurt, to claim, to lay Peter open so bad it had to be dangerous for both of them. What had started as rough play and a little knifework had progressed into this over the past few months; Peter strapped down like a torture victim, Dean slicing him open until they both came so hard it sent them into unconsciousness. It was like being back in Hell, except this one victim was asking to be hurt, and couldn't be killed, no matter what Dean did to him. Dean had told Sam that he'd enjoyed his role as one of Hell's torturers, but only Peter was allowed to see what that made him into. Sam only ever saw him waking up from nightmares, drinking himself into a stupor, not Peter under him begging with his eyes for everything Dean wanted to do to him.
Dean growled, feeling himself throb inside the vice of Peter's body, and brought the knife up farther, this time laying it across Peter's throat. He'd never done this before, always pulling away from that final slice, just the knowledge that he could, that Peter would let him, being enough. Not tonight. Peter keened, baring his beautiful pale throat, and Dean had to see red. A hard slice, a powerful cut with far too much experience behind it, and a ruby spray hit him, warmth dripping down his face. Dean felt his whole body seem to explode as Peter arced in a gorgeous display of death, and thrust into him, riding out the powerful orgasm. The spray stopped, and Peter gasped through his newly healed throat, spurts of semen staining both of their stomachs in his own release.
Then Dean looked around, seeing the bed a red ruin, the blood running down his own body, and nearly threw up. He pulled himself away, fled to the bathroom, and put himself under a scalding hot spray of water. He didn't realize for several minutes that he still had the hunting knife in his hands. Breathing harshly, leaning against the wall with one hand, he only lifted his head when Peter walked in. If he'd seen any kind of regret or betrayal in Peter's expression, he would have had to go out and gotten completely wasted, but Peter looked remarkably calm.
"I had to get rid of the bedding. Uh, you might just want to, you know, leave the key behind and not check out," Peter offered almost diffidently. Dean felt his stomach quiver, and took a deep, steadying breath. Peter wasn't going to get freaked out about this. Peter was ok. Dean deliberately leaned out of the shower and slowly put the knife on the bathroom counter, setting it down decisively. Then he pulled Peter into the shower with him, just to reassure himself that he was still alive.
"I'm ok," Peter said, and Dean leaned his head on Peter's shoulder. He slowly ran his hands over Peter's body, washing away any kind of blood, until he looked new and clean again. Sighing explosively, he leaned against Peter's back, one arm loosely circling his waist.
"Are you... ok?" Peter asked.
“You’re bad for me,” Dean said, in partial explanation. Peter snorted.
“That’s what Nathan says about me and him.”
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Demon of the Evening - This was originally intended to be a companion scene to the one with Castiel warning Dean about the seal, but since most of the information came up later and in greater detail, this slowed down the pace too much. But I liked the idea of having mirroring scenes, so here it is for your amusement.
When Sam heard the door of the hotel room open and shut while he was in the bathroom, he didn't initially pay it any mind. When he heard voices talking, he didn't worry either; Nathan had ordered from room service, after all. It was only after the conversation had dragged on for several minutes and he heard his own name mentioned that he felt alarmed. Rushing out in only his pants, he saw Nathan practically tête-à-tête with Ruby on the sofa.
"What the hell?" Sam demanded. Ruby only smirked and Nathan raised an eyebrow.
"So I take it you really do know her," Nathan asked.
“Yeah, I do- Ruby, what are you doing here?” Sam hissed. Every instinct he had told him that this job was going to be both a major hassle and extremely dangerous. And, like Nathan, he wanted a night off before they threw themselves into the fray. But he knew that Ruby showing up uninvited was never exactly good news.
“I had a warning I needed to give you… but if boys are busy, I’ll just wait right here until you’re done,” Ruby said with a saucy smile.
“Well, I’d hate to leave you out,” Nathan protested smoothly.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I know Sam’s a little possessive.”
“Well, you’ve never seen me in action…”
Sam wanted to puncture his own eardrums as Nathan and Ruby continued with their heavy-handed flirting and innuendo. His own evening out was slowing going down in flames.
He broke in abruptly, ready to use any weapon at his disposal before Ruby managed to finagle herself into a ménage-a-tois. “Nathan, you know Ruby’s a demon, right?”
They both paused and looked at him curiously. “And?” Nathan asked, not moving away. “Since we’re not dead and we’re still having a conversation, I’m guessing she’s not an enemy.”
“Uh… no… She’s been helping me with-. How are you ok with this?” Sam demanded. He’d expected Nathan to react a lot more violently to the news, considering his last entanglement with a demon.
“I used to be a lawyer,” Nathan reminded him. “I’m used to working alongside enemies. Doubly so considering what’s happened in the last few years.”
“Oh… uh… ok… So, what’s this warning?” Sam asked, turning to Ruby, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible so he could go back to his evening plans.
Ruby rolled her eyes. “You ruin all the fun sometimes Sam,” she said regretfully, eyeing Nathan.
“I’m not in the mood,” Sam warned.
“I thought you were.”
“Ruby! Please…” Sam almost pleaded.
“Oh fine. There’s someone starting up a little cult up here, and calling demons up by name to join in,” Ruby said, abruptly dropping most of her flirting act.
“Cult?” Sam prompted.
“Yeah, using some really ancient magic. Believe me, some of the others want to pop up here to see what’s going on, but this party is strictly invitation-only.”
“What about what we saw the other week, with specials being possessed?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know what that’s about, but I do know that anyone that’s called can’t refuse to come up. Wherever this is, it’s protected from intrusion, and whoever this is has gotten ahold of some really old spells, because no one’s seen anything like this for centuries. We’re talking ancient grimoires, scrolls, manuscripts, something that’s probably been buried or stored somewhere for a long time. All this mess you’re trying to take on? I’d be this is at the center of it,” Ruby said with conviction.
“No joke,” Sam muttered. This fit far too well with what they already knew, and added some new wrinkles besides. “Thanks Ruby.”
“Be careful. You don’t screw around with magic like this. It’d old, it’s powerful, and anyone using it could be nearly as dangerous as Lilith,” she finished. Ruby got up abruptly, winked broadly at Nathan, and finally sauntered out.
Sam locked the door behind her, and whirled to face Nathan. He was slowly putting his gun back in its holster, where it had been concealed at the side of the sofa. Sam sighed in relief; he would have been really concerned for Nathan’s instincts if he had taken Ruby at face value.
“So, you have a pet demon?” Nathan asked.
“She’s the enemy of our enemy,” Sam explained. “And I know what you’re thinking, and she’s wearing a coma victim.”
Nathan made a faint hmph of neutrality, neither approving nor disapproving, and shrugged slightly.
“You’re still ok with her?” Sam asked, wondering if the whole evening was ruined.
“Did I ever tell you the mother of my first child can light herself on fire?” Nathan asked casually.
“Uh… your wife can-?”
“Not my wife. The mother of my first child. Gives you an appreciation for danger when you know something like that.”
Oh, Sam thought faintly, and jumped as there was a knock on the door.
“Ah, room service is here,” Nathan said, and this time smiled in a way that told Sam the evening was far from over. “I think you’ll like the dessert…”
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House of M - Originally I had a lot of extra crap in the scenes at the company facility and Matt/Mohinder/Molly’s apartment. BrightEyed Jill informed me I was being excessively repetitive and we were wasting too much time getting to the action, so I cut these parts (but left in the beginning and ending sentences you might recognize so you can see where they were supposed to go). So now I get to inflict it on you. BWHAHAHAHAHA!
“I understand. What happened?” Sam asked, needing to hear what the hell had happened.
“The agents needed to subdue her so I could draw blood for genetic testing. They injected her with a sedative and truth serum and started asking her questions. She answered in a language none of us understood. Then she vomited black smoke and died,” Mohinder said, his sentences clipped as if too much description would awaken bad memories.
Sam and Dean exchanged sharp glances.
“Died from what?” Dean asked.
Mohinder looked grim. “A broken neck, along with dozens of lacerations, just like-.”
“She’d fallen into a steep ravine?” Sam finished.
“Exactly.” Mohinder looked positively haunted. “The agents swore they hadn’t inflicted those injuries on her. I still have her body in the morgue… And it’s standard procedure to tape all interrogations. If this sounds like anything you’re familiar with-.”
“Yeah,” Dean cut in quickly, probably too quickly for Mohinder’s peace of mind.
“Every test I’ve run on her DNA shoes no signs of regenerative abilities. I’m at a complete loss to explain how she was living with no sign of her fatal injuries for almost two days,” he said, desperate for answers.
“Can you take us there and let us look around? If we can see everything you have, I think we can explain what happened,” Sam said.
Mohinder breathed in a sigh of what sounded like relief, and acquiesced. In an act of subterfuge almost as good as any the Winchesters had pulled off, he led them down through the basement of his building, through a connecting door to the next building, and down an alley before hailing a cab. It dropped them at the back entrance to a perfectly boring office building, precisely the same as any of a two dozen or more in New York.
Hurrying them through the door, pressing ID badges into their hands, Mohinder led them through deserted corridors before stopping in front of a locked, windowless room. Swiping the card lock, he preceded them in. Inside the place was nothing but sterile concrete with a drain in the middle of the floor. The room held a faint but distinct odor of sulfur, and there was a black, burned-looking spot on the ceiling.
Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded. It was almost a relief to have a direct and immediate answer to a supernatural problem, even if that answer was bad. Sam let Dean break the news; Mohinder’s beliefs had taken quite a beating in the past few days if he was any judge of things, and Nathan’s warnings to the contrary, Mohinder needed to hear this straight. Dancing around the subject would just prolong the man’s uncertainty.
“Demon,” Dean said succinctly. “That girl was possessed by a demon. The black smoke you saw was the demon leaving her meat-suit.”
“You’re serious?” Mohinder’s tone wasn’t incredulous, but rather terrified.
“Did her eyes turn solid black?” Sam asked.
Mohinder paled. “Yes.”
“What I don’t get is why the demon left. No offense, I haven’t seen your security, but possessed people are pretty tough. They’re stronger than normal, heal from fatal wounds, move stuff with their minds…” Dean trailed off, seeing if this was ringing any bells with the scientist.
Mohinder practically turned ashen. “That’s what the agents said. They were prepared for a fire-breather; they didn’t expect her to start throwing people through walls. Two people died trying to capture her.” “
It was the demon who did it,” Sam said quietly. “The girl wasn’t in control.” Maybe it would ease Mohinder’s conscience to know it had been out of his hands. Maybe not, but he had to try.
“What about her wounds?” Mohinder asked instead.
“You said you had the body?” Dean asked. Instead of answering directly, Mohinder led them back into the hall and into the echoing morgue. Steeling their stomachs, they waited for Mohinder to pull the body from the drawer and unzip the body bag. The girl had been pretty at one point, raven-haired and pale-skinned, but was marred by deep scratches and a horribly unnatural easy roll to her neck.
“You said… possessed people could heal from wounds, but how did they all reappear?” Mohinder asked, his voice unsteady.
“Demons take care of their meat-suits only as long as they’re in them,” Dean said bluntly. “They can hold them together no matter what damage they take. But if it’s fatal, once the demon goes, the injuries come back. If she fell into the ravine, then the meat-suit died there-.”
“She had a name,” Mohinder snapped suddenly. Dean shut up. “Ashley Rose Anderson.” Neither pointed out that the other had been deliberately trying to keep things impersonal up until now. Mohinder heaved a sigh and slid Ashley’s body back into the cooler.
“I apologize, that was uncalled for.”
“We understand,” Sam said, biting his bottom lip for a second. Heaven knew the Winchesters had tried to keep things impersonal when fighting demons, not trying to think about their hosts in an effort to get the demons off the planet. It was only in the past year or so that things had been different, ever since Sam had realized that he had the power to make sure the hosts didn’t die when the demon left. The exact kind of thing Dean didn’t want him to do…
A chill touched his spine when he thought about his powers, realizing in a powerful moment of déjà vu that Peter’s drawing had just come to pass. Why was this moment so important to the future?
“You said you had this on tape?” Dean asked, oblivious to fate, more interested in keeping the investigation going.
“Yes, this way. I don’t know what she was saying, but I thought it was Latin. I couldn’t translate-,” Mohinder started, waving them to an adjacent room.
“I might be able to,” Sam offered. Mohinder raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
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“First thing’s first, we have to find Caroline’s place,” Sam pointed out.
“It sounds like you didn’t exactly get an address,” Matt said, exasperated.
“More than you think. Can I use your computer?” Sam asked, and slid in behind Matt’s laptop, calling up a search engine.
“Ok, this girl that the Company caught couldn’t fly, not even being possessed, so she probably wasn’t captured too far away from where Caroline’s place is,” Dean started.
Mohinder caught on, and supplied what he could. “She was captured in a town called Woodville, in southern Mississippi.”
“So we start looking around there,” Sam explained, and started calling up maps.
“Don’t you have any name other than Caroline? There are too many Carolines,” Molly piped up.
“Sorry kid, wish we did,” Dean said ruefully. Molly heaved a sigh, and Matt reached down to squeeze her shoulder.
“So we’ll have to do this the hard way. Ah, Ashley said something about ‘heat, brackish water, and tortured trees,’” Sam said, and looked up at everyone else.
“Well, we’re already in the South, so there’s the heat,” Dean pointed out.
“Brackish water… that’s partial salt water, so maybe we’re looking at a coastline,” Nathan suggested.
“Tortured trees? Like mangrove trees!” Molly said suddenly.
Sam and Dean looked at her simultaneously.
“What? That’s what my teacher calls them. I’m very good at geography!” Molly said emphatically. Almost everyone in the room was hiding grins as Sam turned back to the computer.
“Closest coast and mangrove swamps from Woodville is in Louisiana. I’ll start checking for signs,” Sam said. Someone made an interrogative noise and Dean took it upon himself to answer.
“If a demon hangs around they make nature go haywire. Lots of storms, plants and animals die…”
“There’s a really tiny town near Tidewater, in Plaquemines Parish, that’s been having unseasonable storms for going on three months,” Sam said, blessing the diligence of the meteorologists. [A/N, when I wrote this scene, I was somehow fixated on having Caroline’s place set in a mangrove swamp, so I put our town much farther south. BrightEyed Jill wanted an underground rock room, so we ended up in a town and parish much farther north.]
That’s it,” Dean said positively, standing up. He looked practically thrilled to have a goal… or maybe he was just missing his car.
“Then we better get going,” Nathan said. “Mohinder, how long do you think it’s going to take the Company to figure out the location?”
“A little over two weeks, at best,” Mohinder said hesitantly.
“That long?”
“There’s no one in the Company that speaks Latin. They’ll have to bring in an outside translator, and they won’t do that until the Bennet and the Haitian come back to take care of the security problem. They’re due back in two weeks.” That statement made the Petrellis wince, and Dean’s raised eyebrow begged an explanation.
“The Haitian,” Matt stated flatly, “make people forget. That’s his power. He cancels out other abilities and erases memories.”
“Damn…” Dean said, a longing look on his face. Sam turned away slightly, knowing the same thoughts that were running through Dean’s head were going through his as well. There was a lot they’d both like to forget.
“They’ll find someone from the local university to translate and them make them forget. Bennet is smart; I don’t think it will take him long to figure out where Caroline’s place is located once he’s heard what we did. So you have until then before the Company arrives,” Mohinder said, spreading his hands.
“Bennet could be useful, assuming we can convince him not to shoot us on sight,” Nathan opined.
“He’s too dangerous, and he’s chased you for too long. I wouldn’t count on his help, and I definitely wouldn’t trust him,” Mohinder said forcefully.
“So, just us,” Dean said a little too loudly, clearly ready to get this show on the road. Sam picked up their bags as Peter and Nathan made their good-byes, and watched as Dean went to briefly talk to Matt.
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At Caroline’s mansion - Theses were a pair of short scenes I originally wrote to plug some plot holes. The first was one to establish that only a few people at Caroline’s place actually had abilities. The second was to show that Rourke could make things out of light, which we had already put in the endgame when Peter made a light devil’s trap. We ended up incorporating this information into other scenes and didn’t need these.
"You said you always wanted more friends like you," Sam commented idly to Caroline as she painstakingly turned the page of an extremely old book. "But that woman, the one Aaron found, she was one of you, wasn't she?"
"Oh. Her. She was, but she would have been... disruptive. Could you honestly see an ability like that in this place? We're lucky I've strengthened the house or her temper tantrum could have knocked down walls," Caroline said.
"But everyone else has an ability?" Sam was careful to sound only mildly curious, not like he was trying to ascertain if Peter was about to blow up, like he'd promised.
Caroline sighed in regret. "I wish they did... but no. I've found plenty of people with abilities, but most of them are needed to find others like me. Out there." Caroline waved her hand slightly, indicating the outside world. "It's only Rourke, Tamara, and Aaron here, but they're good helpers."
"Ah, I understand. And they are loyal. So, what are these others then?"
"Just casual friends. I didn't need the same ritual for all of them, obviously, but I wanted to make sure they'd fit in here. They came out here looking for a good time, and who was I to dissuade them?" Caroline actually giggled, and tossed her hair in an ostentatiously flirtatious gesture. Sam wondered what movie she'd stolen that from.
"Who, indeed?" Sam answered, smiling to cover up the rising anger.
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"No, I think I like it the other way." Sam could hear Caroline's voice through the thin wood of the door.
"How's that?" Rourke replied.
"Better, but it's still not quite..."
Sam knocked and entered almost in the same motion, and then stood in the doorway, staring. Rourke was standing, a strange symbol floating in the air before him, its lines made of many colors of glowing light. Caroline was pointing at some lines on one side, and as he watched, Rourke seemingly moved the lines of light with his hands, like he was painting, and now they curved to connect with the rest of the symbol more smoothly.
"That's it! Perfect," Caroline said, clasping her hands. "Put it down, I need to see it from above..."
At a gesture from Rourke, the entire glowing symbol rotated in mid-air and then sank to within an inch of the floor. Caroline stood to examine it, her white dress illuminated by the rainbow light, and nodded in satisfaction.
"That's just right. You have it memorized now?" Caroline asked.
"Yes ma'am."
"All right, let it go. Go ahead and relax, I have to talk to Sam," she said, smiling in satisfaction. Rourke bowed, clenched his fist, and the symbol faded into nothingness. His smile held more than a touch of arrogance as he brushed past Sam in the doorway, and Sam turned to regard Caroline with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, Rourke's a much better artist than me," Caroline said, answering Sam's unspoken question. "I just had to work out this one symbol, and I couldn't quite get it right. He's very good at that kind of thing."
"I see..."
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Nathan Thinks, Then Writes - One thing I tend to do a lot of in my own writing is character-driven introspection, or internal monologues. This is something my favorite author tends to do a lot, and I tend to do it too. This scene had Nathan doing some cogitating before starting to write his “legacy” letter to his sons. However, no other character in the story got this kind of internal press time, and it was unfair to devote several paragraphs to Nathan when we had no balancing paragraphs from the other three protagonists. Basically, this was cut for pacing and style.
Nathan had learned a fair amount of the Winchesters’ lives from Sam, how they had basically grown up on the road, with Dean taking care of Sam every time their father had to leave them for a job. Hearing that, and then seeing how used Dean was to employing every trick in the book to float himself along with virtually no resources but his skills… That had pulled at new scars. To be sure, that kind of life was uncertain and dysfunctional and dangerous, but the Winchesters had grown up with a special closeness.
The Petrellis hadn’t been terribly close, not being from a high society family full of secrets. They had been raised by nannies and tutors, with their parents bestowing their affection like blessings from Olympus on high, infrequently and at random intervals. That had made it too easy for Nathan and Peter to seek out real affection in the worst and best possible place, each other. In that respect, they couldn’t have been that different from Sam and Dean.
But loving Peter had made it easy, far too easy, for Nathan give up Heidi, Simon, and Monty for his brother. He’d wanted to stay with his first love, afraid to give it up for normalcy. And while he loved Peter more than his own life, being away from Heidi and the boys for so long made him miss them. It wasn’t the all-consuming obsession he’d had when Peter was gone, but still a genuine pain, a regret that he couldn’t have been there for his family, loved them better, been a better husband and father.
For them, he wished he could have been normal; that no one would have had powers, that him and Peter might have remained only loving brothers instead of what they were, that Nathan could have never gotten involved in his father’s schemes or his mother’s plans…
But none of that was possible on the path he’d chosen. So he wanted to leave behind something for his children, whatever scraps of wisdom and experience were his to impart, whatever feeble interactions he could make that would allow him to be some kind of father to his sons. And while he’d never be able to be with them while they were growing up, maybe Simon and Monty would realize that their dad loved them in spite of his absence.
Taking out his legal pad and a pen, Nathan set down to write.
------------------------------------------
Endgame, Nathan saves the day - Because poor Nathan didn’t get a lot to do in The Secret’s in the Telling, we had kicked around the idea of having him save the day through passionate speechifying. We originally wrote this scene in a mid-morning IM session together and thought it was pretty phat. However, it was much more emotional for Sam to stab Dean than to hesitate in stabbing Nathan, not to mention that stabbing Dean ramped up the urgency of the situation. But this scene is still pretty boss, if we say so ourselves, even if we didn’t end up using it.
"Sam, look what you're doing to Dean. You're going to kill him. You're going to kill your brother. You're going to kill the only family you have left. He was willing to die to save you, more than once, and he's going to make you kill him before you open this seal.
"I can't let you hurt him... You don't know what it's like, living with yourself after you've done something unforgivable. I can't let that happen. I'm not your family; I'm only your friend. But I can't let this happen any more than he can." Nathan stepped forward and let the tip of the dagger in Sam's hand press against his chest. "Go through me Sam. It's the only way. Go through me to get to him."
Sam stared at Nathan, at the dagger, at Dean, and began to shake. The point trembled, about to slam home in Nathan's chest, when Sam's hand spasmed and dropped it, the clatter of metal against stone shocking loud.
"I can't..." Sam said, his entire frame wracking with sobs as he sank to his knees.
Dean pulled himself across the floor to gather Sam in his arms. For once, as Dean rocked him and shushed him, Sam looked like the more fragile of the two Winchester brothers.
-----------------------------------
Post Endgame, after Caroline’s defeat - I have this distressing tendency to belabor issues half to death and to want to tie up every possible loose end. In an attempt to keep this story from going over 200,000 words, BrightEyed Jill was like, “We can imply things! It’s ok, we don’t have to get explicit! Our audience is a bunch of smarty pants, they’ll understand!”
So I had a bunch of extra stuff for handing Caroline over to Bennet and the Winchesters and Petrellis posturing and angsting and stuff. These were cut both for pace, and the fact that essentially Nathan and Sam would have had to hold onto Caroline for several days, which would prove to be pretty impractical.
A day later…
“You gave her to Bennet?” Peter asked, incredulous.
“It was either that or shoot him,” Nathan said blandly. “Pete, Bennet is the only person I know that could keep someone like Caroline under control.”
“And how did you get past the whole ‘demon spell’ thing?” Dean asked. He felt amazingly good for someone that had been stabbed in the gut.
"Left out a few details," Nathan said. "But our resident cult expert," he clapped Sam on the shoulder, "Was able to provide some insight into what happened at the mansion.”
-------- [An alternate, alternate version of the scene continues below, just cut out the previous Nathan sentence.]
“I didn’t have to ‘get past’ it,” Nathan replied evenly.
“He had me there,” Sam added, still looking haunted. He was sitting on the floor of the hotel room, almost huddling, as if afraid to loom over anyone. “I convinced him.”
Dean kept himself from clenching his jaw, and counted to ten. In English and Latin. Twice. I am not going to yell at Sam, I am not going to yell at Sam…
“And?” he asked finally, proud that his voice was so even. He didn’t want to lose his cool before him and Sam had gotten some time to fix things properly between them.
“He believed me.”
“Peter, you and I are going to have a long talk with Bennet sometime soon. He agreed to take Caroline off our hands, but he wants answers. I said we’d discuss it. If he’s lucky, and we’re feeling generous, we might get back to him in a month or so.”
“We can do more than just try to beat Bennet at his own game, Nathan. We can do a lot more, like them,” Peter said, nodding at the Winchesters. “Save the world.”
"If you're trying to use us as role models, seriously, think again. This? Was a good week," Dean said. Sam actually cracked a smile at that.
"Hey, we stopped a apocalypse once..." Peter protested. The Winchesters exchanged amused glances. "Ok, so it was a small one." They actually started grinning. "Ok, ok, it was only New York, but we did stop it!"
“So you’re talking about, what? Joining forces?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. Maybe just… stop running and start shouldering more of our share of the problem.” Peter was looking right at Nathan when he said it, and Nathan… actually looked relieved.
“I’d like that.”
“Tell you what I’d like is to get the hell out of this state,” Dean opined. “We have about five counties’ worth of sheriffs that are just looking for people to bust. After that, then you guys can jaw all you want.”
"Yeah." "Totally." "Let's go."
-----------
[Yet another version of handing Caroline over to Bennet, this one with actual Bennet in it!]
Dean drove them out Lake End that evening, Peter getting them past the ragged remains of the sheriffs still standing guard at the periphery of the property. Apparently they had been very busy arresting the two dozen or so “dirty hippies” that had run screaming out of the woods earlier that day, and would have happily added the Winchesters and Petrellis to the list.
Nathan was definitely repressing a smile, and Dean was outright smirking as Peter pulled a “these are not the droids you’re looking for,” to get them free of the mess they’d made.
“What the heck did you two do?” Peter asked as they finally turned onto the highway.
“Political firestorm,” Dean said, and Nathan actually laughed out loud.
---
They stayed in a no-tell motel some hundred miles from Lake End for almost two days, the first day more or less sleeping the whole time, Caroline safely knocked out in the bathroom courtesy of drugs Peter has swiped from the hospital. But the second day was for one thing: making amends.
----
"Nathan, we've been spitting on a bonfire,” Peter said. They were in the back seat of the Impala, Caroline half-awake beside them, the Winchesters in the front, driving them back to Nathan’s car.
"After what you just went through?" Nathan asked incredulously.
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "No, look... We could be doing more. I mean, look at what Sam and Dean are doing."
"If you're trying to use us as role models, seriously, think again. This? Was a good week," Sam said. Dean snorted in amusement from the front seat. Whatever they had talked about during their day off had substantially cleared the air between them. A lot of it was a combination of relief and a stoic façade, but Peter could tell there was some actual easing of tension between them.
"Hey, we stopped a apocalypse once..." Peter protested. The Winchesters exchanged amused glances. "Ok, so it was a small one." They actually started grinning. "Ok, ok, it was only New York, but we did stop it!"
"Pete, what are you getting at?"
"Matt and Mohinder are running their end of things pretty much all alone. And we're only helping one person at a time. Make a fake ID, give them some tips on staying hidden and a little extra cash; Nathan, we can do more! There are plenty of people out there that would help us, if we just could stop having to run from the Company."
"You were reading my mind, weren't you?"
"About making a deal with Bennet? Yeah."
"Are you on board about that?"
Peter regarded the stunned Caroline next to them, turned back to Nathan, and nodded firmly.
"Sam, Dean, would you mind helping us one last time?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Noah Bennet was waiting for them back at Nathan and Dean's hotel, standing next to his car, the Haitian by his side, watching them with a raised eyebrow as they all piled out of the Winchester's Impala.
"Where was the transmitter?" Nathan said in greeting.
"ID box, NYPD badge. You never use that one," he said in response. Caroline, entirely bewildered, stood between Peter and Sam, looking like she was torn between being interested and being scared out of her mind.
"I'll remember that for next time."
"So, this is Caroline?" Bennet asked.
"Yes..." Caroline said softly, and Nathan and Dean took a step to get in between her and Bennet.
"My colleagues got the other three that escaped from Tidewater. They have some very interesting stories to tell. Stories that put you at the center of a great deal of mayhem. There's been a great deal of damage, and deaths. Someone has to answer for that," Bennet said. His tone managed to convey both fatherly disapproval and a subtle threat.
"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what this would lead to, what was happening to me... Please..." Caroline said, blinking back tears. "What can I do?"
"That depends. What can you do?"
"You don't have to be such as ass, for starters," Dean said loudly, glaring at Bennet.
"Noah, she needs help and training. Locking her in the Company basement isn't going to do anyone any good," Nathan said.
"It's been us against the world for all this time, but you know things have been getting worse," Peter added. "And not just for us. For you. For them too," he said, nodding at the Winchesters. "Everything's going wrong, and it's going to get worse if you just keep locking everyone up."
"Wait, what?!" Caroline asked, and Sam just tightened his grip on her arm. She was damn lucky not to be dead with a bullet in her brain... if Sam hadn't done something worse to her.
"And what are you proposing?" Bennet asked, seemingly ignoring the byplay.
"Bennet, we saved the world back there, and succeeded without anyone blowing up. All of us together, them, and us. They knew the source of the things you couldn't explain; we had extra skills to give them an edge. Our worlds are running up against each other. We all have to adapt, you and the Company included. We need everyone's help," Nathan said.
"And Caroline?"
"She needs supervision, training, and has a hell of a lot to pay off. To be frank, Peter and I don't have the time. You do, and you're better at this than us," Peter said.
Bennet looked pensive, and regarded Caroline thoughtfully.
"Her ability?"
"Language Acquisition," Peter said. Just for kicks, he repeated it in Japanese and French, and smirked to see Bennet and the Haitian look at him, then Caroline, with some respect.
"I see... I don't suppose you'd all be willing to come in and talk about this further?"
"We're looking for a sea change, but we're not idiots."
Bennet actually smiled. "I could make you come in, you realize."
"Maybe your friend can negate our abilities, but not theirs," Peter pointed out. Bennet took a slightly longer look at the heavily-armed, tall, strong Winchesters, and seemed to reconsider his options. Dean and Sam gave him their best, "Do ya, punk?" grins, and Bennet nodded once, sharply.
"So you're looking to renegotiate?"
"No, we're looking to make a real difference. If people had known they weren't alone, Caroline would have never been able to start her little cult."
"I-," Caroline started.
"Don't talk. Really. Just don't," Sam advised. Caroline shut up.
"If you wanted to take off the veil, you shouldn't have killed yourself, Nathan."
"I'm not coming back to life, not even for this. But you damn well know you can do it."
"You overestimate my influence."
"Considering that you're here? I doubt it Noah. Take Caroline with you, and listen to what she has to say. It might be enlightening. We'll call you after you've had a chance to think it over."
Bennet stepped forward, and Nathan and Dean let him pass between them to get to Caroline. He paused for a second, his hand on her elbow, knowing full well he was between four wanted criminals, and walked her to the car with deliberate slowness.
"I'll be waiting for your call," Bennet said over his shoulder. "I think we'll have quite a bit to discuss."
There was a long pause as Bennet, Caroline, and the Haitian finally got in their car and rolled down the road. There was a longer pause as they finally got out of sight.
"So, I'm all for being not in Louisiana right now," Peter said suddenly.
"Yeah." "Totally." "Let's go."
-------------
Peter and Dean at the hospital - These were a few scenes of Dean and Peter at the hospital after Dean got stabbed. Essentially cut for running time and pacing.
Peter blinked into existence behind a pillar outside the Emergency Room entrance to St. Mary's Hospital in New York. Of every hospital that he'd ever visited, this one, where he'd spent hundreds of hour while getting his nursing license, was the easiest to find even when exhausted.
"Help! Please, we need help!" Peter shouted, the weight of Dean's nearly unconscious body bearing him to the pavement. In seconds, they were enveloped in stethscopes and white coats, and Peter let them take charge with gratitude.
-------
When Dean woke up again, he was in a hospital room, not a completely uncommon occurrence, feeling like his stomach was on fire and generally aching like a sonofabitch.
"Hey."
Dean turned to find Peter sitting at his bedside. Or, more correctly, waking up after having nodded off in his chair leaning against the foot of Dean's bed. A quick look out of the window told Dean it was night; he'd lost at least a good eight hours, maybe more.
"Surgery went well, I mean, as well as it could, considering," Peter said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Sam and Nathan are ok; I've been checking up on them."
Dean kept himself relaxed against the pillows. Having a telepathic friend had its advantages. He had answers before he even had to talk.
"We're in New York, sorry, it was the only place I could think of in a pinch. And it's almost eleven. I think we better get out of here before the friendly police officers I sent on a wild goose chase remember they were supposed to question you."
"I'm all for that," Dean said, and tried to sit up. He regretted it at once, both for the fact that he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, and the fact that he nearly fainted from the pain.
"Wait, wait, hang on, let me try something," Peter said, standing up to keep Dean pressed into the pillows. Dean flopped back, pissed off at being so helpless, as Peter started tugging at his gown.
"Dude, if I can't sit up, I don't think I'm-," Dean started, and then stopped himself before he turned down good nookie. He had a reputation to maintain.
Peter smirked, but shook his head, only shoving the gown aside enough to get at Dean's wound. With one hand, Peter unbuttoned his own shirt, and Dean raised his eyebrow as high as it would go.
"Sorry, I only saw Aaron do this a few times, and I don't want to bleed on another shirt..."
Before Dean had a chance to ask, "Wha...?" Peter placed both warm hands on Dean's abdomen. There was a thrilling rush of energy that erased every trace of pain, and then Peter bit back a scream as Dean's gut-stab appeared on Peter's unmarked skin. Dean stared in astonishment as Peter breathed through the pain, watching the wound fade as Peter's healing ability kicked in. In under thirty seconds, the wound was gone completely.
"Sorry I couldn't do that before..." Peter whispered. I was running too hot, too damn close to going nuclear again. I'm so sorry...
Dean wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but-. "Ask Sam, he'll tell you," Peter broke in.
"Yeah. I will," Dean said solemnly, and reached over to grab his clothes from the floor. "Let's get out of here, man. I think we have shit to do."
Peter held out his hand, and the two of them vanished.
----------------------------
Peter and Sam Talking About... Stuff - These were a few short scenes, scene sketches, and/or sentences we never ended up finding a home for.
Sam - "Why's this 'Company' have to keep everyone contained so brutally?" Peter - "They were going to get someone in high office to help keep things covered up, but that kinda fell through when their guy had other priorities." Sam - "What guy was that?" Peter - "Nathan."
--
Peter knelt on the floor at Sam's side, silently fuming. Sam was being treated like visiting royalty, which is what he was, in Caroline's eyes.
--
Sam hadn't slept. He wanted to sleep. He was tired. He even went to his room, sometime after dawn, and lay down. But sleep wouldn't come.
--
Not for the first time, Sam wished Dean or Nathan was here to talk some sense into Peter. He seemed almost disturbingly comfortable with taking orders from older brother types.
--
Peter gently brushed Sam's hand off him. "Your powers are dangerous, Sam. You know that, right?"
"Just because a demon tells me to use them doesn't mean I shouldn't."
"Doesn't it?" Peter asked, giving him a skeptical look.
"Do you have a better idea as to how exactly we're supposed to stop Caroline? In case you haven't noticed, she's not getting any weaker."
"I know," Peter said. He looked searchingly at Sam for a moment, and then darted forward to press a kiss to Sam's lips.
Startled, Sam pulled away. "Whoa, what...?"
--------------------------------------
Caroline Makes Some Friends - I originally wrote this scene to be a prologue like they have in Supernatural. However, it was more fun (and relevant) to have the bit where Sam is “selling” Peter to Caroline be the prologue, so this was scrapped. This is basically how Caroline got started with her road to being a force for evil.
“Where the hell is this place Caroline?” Rourke bitched from the driver’s seat. “You said there was a place to party out here, but I haven’t seen anything but trees.” Caroline shoved her hair out of her face with her hands, and then pushed her glasses up her nose nervously.
“It’s close, just keep going,” she said deferentially.
Behind them the four other grad students grumbled in agreement with Rourke, adding a few pointed catty remarks. Caroline wasn’t part of their clique and would normally never hope to be, but she hoped tonight, if everything went right, they would become her friends.
“So, you found this place in a book?” Paula asked, not quite sneering. Caroline blushed. She was the only linguist and apprentice archivist in the grad student lounge, everyone else being in far more interesting career paths like public relations, business, sports management, anything but burying themselves in books all day, trying to read languages that had died out centuries ago.
“This site used to be… special to someone. I came out here to find it and discovered someone had built a house right on top of it, then abandoned it a while ago,” Caroline explained softly.
“So, what is it?” Cindy demanded.
“A seal,” Caroline said. Behind her, Chaz made mocking seal barks until Al plied him with another beer to shut him up.
“Seal to what?” Al asked.
“Hell, so the book says.” Everyone in the car went “ooo, aaahh,” but Caroline only shrank farther into her seat. All she ever wanted was them to be friends, for them to not mock her, to include her…
“Hey, we can have a séance or something…” Paula started.
“Don’t fucking think so!” Rourke barked. “I got a great aunt who’s seen that stuff work. That’s heavy shit, and I don’t want to screw around with it.”
“Stop being such an asshole Rourke,” Chaz complained.
“Here, it’s here, turn right and park,” Caroline said suddenly.
Everyone piled out of the car, Caroline toting her bag of books, the rest carrying their part supplies and clinking cases of booze. Rourke and the others looked around the empty clearing with increasing irritation.
“What the hell Caroline? You drag us out here for a damn joke?” Al demanded.
“No, no, it’s right over here,” Caroline said, heart pounding. A few steps forward, crossing over an invisible line, a foreign phrase muttered under her breath and-.
“Whoa, how’d I miss that?” Paula said.
Looming out of the mist of the bayou was a sprawling, decaying mansion, gleaming in the moonlight with the remnants of white paint. Caroline smiled as everyone stumbled inside, mouths agape at the old manor, and led them to the old ballroom in the center of the house.
Despite Rourke almost balking at the seal set into the stone floor, everyone else simply laughed and spread out. They hauled over old chairs and padded them with blankets, set up a portable stereo, lit lanterns, flopping down and cracking open bottles of beer and whiskey. Caroline only watched, peeking at them between pouring over her books, as they began to laugh and talk and touch around her. She was ignored, and almost preferred it that way. Midnight wasn’t far off and she had to be ready.
Caroline stared at them behind the curtain of her hair, glancing back down at the tome in her hands. It had come from this very estate as a death gift from the will, along with many others of similar age. Originally brought over from the Old World and added onto over the course of generations, the books were in a hodgepodge of tongues that no one had been able to translate. Until recently, she hadn’t been able to either, but about six months ago, everything had suddenly clicked, and now the books made sense.
She had ignored the ominous warnings in favor of the promises in its pages. Say the right words at the right times, the book informed her, and the desires of the speaker would be met. All it took were the right phrases, willpower, and belief. Caroline was ready to believe. She’d spoken words of concealment and protection over the house, and no one had seen it before she’d let them.
Now all she wanted was for these people, fellow students, beautiful, popular, and talented, to be friends with her. She wanted to share her secrets with them, like how she made herself learn about everything, including current events. Like how she knew her sudden facility with a jumble of incomprehensible tongues had little to do with her exhaustive studies… how she knew what Rourke could do with light was no parlor trick, but she wouldn’t do that until they were friends.
As midnight burned near, Paula’s tongue and inhibitions loosened in proportion to the damage she’d done to the case of beer.
“Whatcha doin’ with a book, Caroline? This is a party!” she declared.
“It’s almost midnight,” Caroline said, her tone making it a question.
“Yeah, time for the séance!” Cindy said gleefully. Rourke, half-stuporous, looked up in alarm, trying to form a protest.
“Don’t be a jerk Rourke. Why else have her along?” Chaz said, punching him in the shoulder.
Caroline bit her lip and stood at the edge of the circle. All the ever wanted was to be friends with beautiful people like this. And they would be, soon, she had to believe that. She didn’t just want to be their essay-writer, researcher, and general whipping-girl. She wanted them to like her.
Smoothing the page with great care for its age, Caroline swept her hair back and straightened her shoulders.
“Call up Elvis!” Paula suggested with a drunken laugh.
Caroline smiled slightly. She forgave Paula her arrogance, just as she forgave Cindy, Al, Chaz, and even special Rourke. Of all of them, he should have known; they should have had a bond. And they would, soon.
“Tu cara me-daris, ju kul mekindia basar!” Everyone jerked upright as Caroline thundered out the invocation. The words had to be said forcefully, but no one here had heard the mousy linguist so much as raise her voice before.
Caroline’s words seems to fill the huge room, echoing in a language not heard aloud for centuries on the surface of the Earth. She kept speaking, the words making sense to her as they would to no one but whom she was calling.
“I conjure thee, by my heart and will, by my power and words, fulfill my heart’s desire, I command you!” The strange words threatened to twist in Caroline’s mouth, but she held firm and burned her purpose into her mind. Spells like these, ancient beyond knowing, needed no candles or herbs or blood sacrifice, only the right place, right words, and right will… and Caroline wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Astarte, Carreau, Diaka, Labash, Saleos!”
At each name, she pointed at one of the group of five, standing slack-jawed and stunned. At the center of the seal, burning through the stone, came five columns of sulfurous black smoke that leapt to each of the five bodies, forcing their way inside.
Caroline shouted the final words in triumph and exultation, so pleased, so sure it had worked that she had no room for fear. The five fell to the ground for a long moment, and Caroline waited anxiously for what they’d say to her. Rourke picked himself up first; his eyes completely black as he stared at her, stared right at her as he never had before, a satisfied grin on his face.
“No bad Caroline. This one’s really special.”
“I know. I wanted to find more like me, like you…”
“I know. We can help find them,” Rourke said, his smile broadening. Caroline beamed as the others rose, all of the smiling at her.
“All I ever wanted were friends.”
“And now you have us,” Cindy said, as the rest piped up with their own comments.
“This is only a start.”
“We’ll bring more.”
“And have so much fun. All for you, sweet Caroline.”
------------------------------------------------------
[WARNING] Dean/Peter “snuff” - This was the original version of the flashback scene at the beginning of the story where Dean and Peter break the bed. It started one way, picking up emotionally where Wait For Danger left off, but ended up veering straight into very dark territory. If that scene had stood, it would have overshadowed a lot of what we had going for both Dean and Peter’s story arcs, and messed up the tone. And it’s like seriously hardcore. Seriously. NC-17 for sex and gore and death.
Peter writhed underneath him, arms and legs straining against the leather belts Dean had tied him down with, his body glistening with sweat as the deep cut on his arm sealed. Dean knew he was cutting deeper tonight than he ever had been, sickly fascinated with watching Peter heal himself from any abuse. Blood already stained the comforter in too many places to count, both of their bodies smeared with the drying scarlet paint. Peter practically sobbed as he threw his head back, but as he tightened himself around Dean, Peter's cock twitched and strained between them. It was so wrong, so absolutely God-damned fucking wrong to be enjoying this as much as they both were, but Dean needed even more.
He needed to hurt, to claim, to lay Peter open so bad it had to be dangerous for both of them. What had started as rough play and a little knifework had progressed into this over the past few months; Peter strapped down like a torture victim, Dean slicing him open until they both came so hard it sent them into unconsciousness. It was like being back in Hell, except this one victim was asking to be hurt, and couldn't be killed, no matter what Dean did to him. Dean had told Sam that he'd enjoyed his role as one of Hell's torturers, but only Peter was allowed to see what that made him into. Sam only ever saw him waking up from nightmares, drinking himself into a stupor, not Peter under him begging with his eyes for everything Dean wanted to do to him.
Dean growled, feeling himself throb inside the vice of Peter's body, and brought the knife up farther, this time laying it across Peter's throat. He'd never done this before, always pulling away from that final slice, just the knowledge that he could, that Peter would let him, being enough. Not tonight. Peter keened, baring his beautiful pale throat, and Dean had to see red. A hard slice, a powerful cut with far too much experience behind it, and a ruby spray hit him, warmth dripping down his face. Dean felt his whole body seem to explode as Peter arced in a gorgeous display of death, and thrust into him, riding out the powerful orgasm. The spray stopped, and Peter gasped through his newly healed throat, spurts of semen staining both of their stomachs in his own release.
Then Dean looked around, seeing the bed a red ruin, the blood running down his own body, and nearly threw up. He pulled himself away, fled to the bathroom, and put himself under a scalding hot spray of water. He didn't realize for several minutes that he still had the hunting knife in his hands. Breathing harshly, leaning against the wall with one hand, he only lifted his head when Peter walked in. If he'd seen any kind of regret or betrayal in Peter's expression, he would have had to go out and gotten completely wasted, but Peter looked remarkably calm.
"I had to get rid of the bedding. Uh, you might just want to, you know, leave the key behind and not check out," Peter offered almost diffidently. Dean felt his stomach quiver, and took a deep, steadying breath. Peter wasn't going to get freaked out about this. Peter was ok. Dean deliberately leaned out of the shower and slowly put the knife on the bathroom counter, setting it down decisively. Then he pulled Peter into the shower with him, just to reassure himself that he was still alive.
"I'm ok," Peter said, and Dean leaned his head on Peter's shoulder. He slowly ran his hands over Peter's body, washing away any kind of blood, until he looked new and clean again. Sighing explosively, he leaned against Peter's back, one arm loosely circling his waist.
"Are you... ok?" Peter asked.
“You’re bad for me,” Dean said, in partial explanation. Peter snorted.
“That’s what Nathan says about me and him.”
--------------------------------------------------
Demon of the Evening - This was originally intended to be a companion scene to the one with Castiel warning Dean about the seal, but since most of the information came up later and in greater detail, this slowed down the pace too much. But I liked the idea of having mirroring scenes, so here it is for your amusement.
When Sam heard the door of the hotel room open and shut while he was in the bathroom, he didn't initially pay it any mind. When he heard voices talking, he didn't worry either; Nathan had ordered from room service, after all. It was only after the conversation had dragged on for several minutes and he heard his own name mentioned that he felt alarmed. Rushing out in only his pants, he saw Nathan practically tête-à-tête with Ruby on the sofa.
"What the hell?" Sam demanded. Ruby only smirked and Nathan raised an eyebrow.
"So I take it you really do know her," Nathan asked.
“Yeah, I do- Ruby, what are you doing here?” Sam hissed. Every instinct he had told him that this job was going to be both a major hassle and extremely dangerous. And, like Nathan, he wanted a night off before they threw themselves into the fray. But he knew that Ruby showing up uninvited was never exactly good news.
“I had a warning I needed to give you… but if boys are busy, I’ll just wait right here until you’re done,” Ruby said with a saucy smile.
“Well, I’d hate to leave you out,” Nathan protested smoothly.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I know Sam’s a little possessive.”
“Well, you’ve never seen me in action…”
Sam wanted to puncture his own eardrums as Nathan and Ruby continued with their heavy-handed flirting and innuendo. His own evening out was slowing going down in flames.
He broke in abruptly, ready to use any weapon at his disposal before Ruby managed to finagle herself into a ménage-a-tois. “Nathan, you know Ruby’s a demon, right?”
They both paused and looked at him curiously. “And?” Nathan asked, not moving away. “Since we’re not dead and we’re still having a conversation, I’m guessing she’s not an enemy.”
“Uh… no… She’s been helping me with-. How are you ok with this?” Sam demanded. He’d expected Nathan to react a lot more violently to the news, considering his last entanglement with a demon.
“I used to be a lawyer,” Nathan reminded him. “I’m used to working alongside enemies. Doubly so considering what’s happened in the last few years.”
“Oh… uh… ok… So, what’s this warning?” Sam asked, turning to Ruby, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible so he could go back to his evening plans.
Ruby rolled her eyes. “You ruin all the fun sometimes Sam,” she said regretfully, eyeing Nathan.
“I’m not in the mood,” Sam warned.
“I thought you were.”
“Ruby! Please…” Sam almost pleaded.
“Oh fine. There’s someone starting up a little cult up here, and calling demons up by name to join in,” Ruby said, abruptly dropping most of her flirting act.
“Cult?” Sam prompted.
“Yeah, using some really ancient magic. Believe me, some of the others want to pop up here to see what’s going on, but this party is strictly invitation-only.”
“What about what we saw the other week, with specials being possessed?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know what that’s about, but I do know that anyone that’s called can’t refuse to come up. Wherever this is, it’s protected from intrusion, and whoever this is has gotten ahold of some really old spells, because no one’s seen anything like this for centuries. We’re talking ancient grimoires, scrolls, manuscripts, something that’s probably been buried or stored somewhere for a long time. All this mess you’re trying to take on? I’d be this is at the center of it,” Ruby said with conviction.
“No joke,” Sam muttered. This fit far too well with what they already knew, and added some new wrinkles besides. “Thanks Ruby.”
“Be careful. You don’t screw around with magic like this. It’d old, it’s powerful, and anyone using it could be nearly as dangerous as Lilith,” she finished. Ruby got up abruptly, winked broadly at Nathan, and finally sauntered out.
Sam locked the door behind her, and whirled to face Nathan. He was slowly putting his gun back in its holster, where it had been concealed at the side of the sofa. Sam sighed in relief; he would have been really concerned for Nathan’s instincts if he had taken Ruby at face value.
“So, you have a pet demon?” Nathan asked.
“She’s the enemy of our enemy,” Sam explained. “And I know what you’re thinking, and she’s wearing a coma victim.”
Nathan made a faint hmph of neutrality, neither approving nor disapproving, and shrugged slightly.
“You’re still ok with her?” Sam asked, wondering if the whole evening was ruined.
“Did I ever tell you the mother of my first child can light herself on fire?” Nathan asked casually.
“Uh… your wife can-?”
“Not my wife. The mother of my first child. Gives you an appreciation for danger when you know something like that.”
Oh, Sam thought faintly, and jumped as there was a knock on the door.
“Ah, room service is here,” Nathan said, and this time smiled in a way that told Sam the evening was far from over. “I think you’ll like the dessert…”
-----------------------
House of M - Originally I had a lot of extra crap in the scenes at the company facility and Matt/Mohinder/Molly’s apartment. BrightEyed Jill informed me I was being excessively repetitive and we were wasting too much time getting to the action, so I cut these parts (but left in the beginning and ending sentences you might recognize so you can see where they were supposed to go). So now I get to inflict it on you. BWHAHAHAHAHA!
“I understand. What happened?” Sam asked, needing to hear what the hell had happened.
“The agents needed to subdue her so I could draw blood for genetic testing. They injected her with a sedative and truth serum and started asking her questions. She answered in a language none of us understood. Then she vomited black smoke and died,” Mohinder said, his sentences clipped as if too much description would awaken bad memories.
Sam and Dean exchanged sharp glances.
“Died from what?” Dean asked.
Mohinder looked grim. “A broken neck, along with dozens of lacerations, just like-.”
“She’d fallen into a steep ravine?” Sam finished.
“Exactly.” Mohinder looked positively haunted. “The agents swore they hadn’t inflicted those injuries on her. I still have her body in the morgue… And it’s standard procedure to tape all interrogations. If this sounds like anything you’re familiar with-.”
“Yeah,” Dean cut in quickly, probably too quickly for Mohinder’s peace of mind.
“Every test I’ve run on her DNA shoes no signs of regenerative abilities. I’m at a complete loss to explain how she was living with no sign of her fatal injuries for almost two days,” he said, desperate for answers.
“Can you take us there and let us look around? If we can see everything you have, I think we can explain what happened,” Sam said.
Mohinder breathed in a sigh of what sounded like relief, and acquiesced. In an act of subterfuge almost as good as any the Winchesters had pulled off, he led them down through the basement of his building, through a connecting door to the next building, and down an alley before hailing a cab. It dropped them at the back entrance to a perfectly boring office building, precisely the same as any of a two dozen or more in New York.
Hurrying them through the door, pressing ID badges into their hands, Mohinder led them through deserted corridors before stopping in front of a locked, windowless room. Swiping the card lock, he preceded them in. Inside the place was nothing but sterile concrete with a drain in the middle of the floor. The room held a faint but distinct odor of sulfur, and there was a black, burned-looking spot on the ceiling.
Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded. It was almost a relief to have a direct and immediate answer to a supernatural problem, even if that answer was bad. Sam let Dean break the news; Mohinder’s beliefs had taken quite a beating in the past few days if he was any judge of things, and Nathan’s warnings to the contrary, Mohinder needed to hear this straight. Dancing around the subject would just prolong the man’s uncertainty.
“Demon,” Dean said succinctly. “That girl was possessed by a demon. The black smoke you saw was the demon leaving her meat-suit.”
“You’re serious?” Mohinder’s tone wasn’t incredulous, but rather terrified.
“Did her eyes turn solid black?” Sam asked.
Mohinder paled. “Yes.”
“What I don’t get is why the demon left. No offense, I haven’t seen your security, but possessed people are pretty tough. They’re stronger than normal, heal from fatal wounds, move stuff with their minds…” Dean trailed off, seeing if this was ringing any bells with the scientist.
Mohinder practically turned ashen. “That’s what the agents said. They were prepared for a fire-breather; they didn’t expect her to start throwing people through walls. Two people died trying to capture her.” “
It was the demon who did it,” Sam said quietly. “The girl wasn’t in control.” Maybe it would ease Mohinder’s conscience to know it had been out of his hands. Maybe not, but he had to try.
“What about her wounds?” Mohinder asked instead.
“You said you had the body?” Dean asked. Instead of answering directly, Mohinder led them back into the hall and into the echoing morgue. Steeling their stomachs, they waited for Mohinder to pull the body from the drawer and unzip the body bag. The girl had been pretty at one point, raven-haired and pale-skinned, but was marred by deep scratches and a horribly unnatural easy roll to her neck.
“You said… possessed people could heal from wounds, but how did they all reappear?” Mohinder asked, his voice unsteady.
“Demons take care of their meat-suits only as long as they’re in them,” Dean said bluntly. “They can hold them together no matter what damage they take. But if it’s fatal, once the demon goes, the injuries come back. If she fell into the ravine, then the meat-suit died there-.”
“She had a name,” Mohinder snapped suddenly. Dean shut up. “Ashley Rose Anderson.” Neither pointed out that the other had been deliberately trying to keep things impersonal up until now. Mohinder heaved a sigh and slid Ashley’s body back into the cooler.
“I apologize, that was uncalled for.”
“We understand,” Sam said, biting his bottom lip for a second. Heaven knew the Winchesters had tried to keep things impersonal when fighting demons, not trying to think about their hosts in an effort to get the demons off the planet. It was only in the past year or so that things had been different, ever since Sam had realized that he had the power to make sure the hosts didn’t die when the demon left. The exact kind of thing Dean didn’t want him to do…
A chill touched his spine when he thought about his powers, realizing in a powerful moment of déjà vu that Peter’s drawing had just come to pass. Why was this moment so important to the future?
“You said you had this on tape?” Dean asked, oblivious to fate, more interested in keeping the investigation going.
“Yes, this way. I don’t know what she was saying, but I thought it was Latin. I couldn’t translate-,” Mohinder started, waving them to an adjacent room.
“I might be able to,” Sam offered. Mohinder raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
-------
“First thing’s first, we have to find Caroline’s place,” Sam pointed out.
“It sounds like you didn’t exactly get an address,” Matt said, exasperated.
“More than you think. Can I use your computer?” Sam asked, and slid in behind Matt’s laptop, calling up a search engine.
“Ok, this girl that the Company caught couldn’t fly, not even being possessed, so she probably wasn’t captured too far away from where Caroline’s place is,” Dean started.
Mohinder caught on, and supplied what he could. “She was captured in a town called Woodville, in southern Mississippi.”
“So we start looking around there,” Sam explained, and started calling up maps.
“Don’t you have any name other than Caroline? There are too many Carolines,” Molly piped up.
“Sorry kid, wish we did,” Dean said ruefully. Molly heaved a sigh, and Matt reached down to squeeze her shoulder.
“So we’ll have to do this the hard way. Ah, Ashley said something about ‘heat, brackish water, and tortured trees,’” Sam said, and looked up at everyone else.
“Well, we’re already in the South, so there’s the heat,” Dean pointed out.
“Brackish water… that’s partial salt water, so maybe we’re looking at a coastline,” Nathan suggested.
“Tortured trees? Like mangrove trees!” Molly said suddenly.
Sam and Dean looked at her simultaneously.
“What? That’s what my teacher calls them. I’m very good at geography!” Molly said emphatically. Almost everyone in the room was hiding grins as Sam turned back to the computer.
“Closest coast and mangrove swamps from Woodville is in Louisiana. I’ll start checking for signs,” Sam said. Someone made an interrogative noise and Dean took it upon himself to answer.
“If a demon hangs around they make nature go haywire. Lots of storms, plants and animals die…”
“There’s a really tiny town near Tidewater, in Plaquemines Parish, that’s been having unseasonable storms for going on three months,” Sam said, blessing the diligence of the meteorologists. [A/N, when I wrote this scene, I was somehow fixated on having Caroline’s place set in a mangrove swamp, so I put our town much farther south. BrightEyed Jill wanted an underground rock room, so we ended up in a town and parish much farther north.]
That’s it,” Dean said positively, standing up. He looked practically thrilled to have a goal… or maybe he was just missing his car.
“Then we better get going,” Nathan said. “Mohinder, how long do you think it’s going to take the Company to figure out the location?”
“A little over two weeks, at best,” Mohinder said hesitantly.
“That long?”
“There’s no one in the Company that speaks Latin. They’ll have to bring in an outside translator, and they won’t do that until the Bennet and the Haitian come back to take care of the security problem. They’re due back in two weeks.” That statement made the Petrellis wince, and Dean’s raised eyebrow begged an explanation.
“The Haitian,” Matt stated flatly, “make people forget. That’s his power. He cancels out other abilities and erases memories.”
“Damn…” Dean said, a longing look on his face. Sam turned away slightly, knowing the same thoughts that were running through Dean’s head were going through his as well. There was a lot they’d both like to forget.
“They’ll find someone from the local university to translate and them make them forget. Bennet is smart; I don’t think it will take him long to figure out where Caroline’s place is located once he’s heard what we did. So you have until then before the Company arrives,” Mohinder said, spreading his hands.
“Bennet could be useful, assuming we can convince him not to shoot us on sight,” Nathan opined.
“He’s too dangerous, and he’s chased you for too long. I wouldn’t count on his help, and I definitely wouldn’t trust him,” Mohinder said forcefully.
“So, just us,” Dean said a little too loudly, clearly ready to get this show on the road. Sam picked up their bags as Peter and Nathan made their good-byes, and watched as Dean went to briefly talk to Matt.
------------------------------------------
At Caroline’s mansion - Theses were a pair of short scenes I originally wrote to plug some plot holes. The first was one to establish that only a few people at Caroline’s place actually had abilities. The second was to show that Rourke could make things out of light, which we had already put in the endgame when Peter made a light devil’s trap. We ended up incorporating this information into other scenes and didn’t need these.
"You said you always wanted more friends like you," Sam commented idly to Caroline as she painstakingly turned the page of an extremely old book. "But that woman, the one Aaron found, she was one of you, wasn't she?"
"Oh. Her. She was, but she would have been... disruptive. Could you honestly see an ability like that in this place? We're lucky I've strengthened the house or her temper tantrum could have knocked down walls," Caroline said.
"But everyone else has an ability?" Sam was careful to sound only mildly curious, not like he was trying to ascertain if Peter was about to blow up, like he'd promised.
Caroline sighed in regret. "I wish they did... but no. I've found plenty of people with abilities, but most of them are needed to find others like me. Out there." Caroline waved her hand slightly, indicating the outside world. "It's only Rourke, Tamara, and Aaron here, but they're good helpers."
"Ah, I understand. And they are loyal. So, what are these others then?"
"Just casual friends. I didn't need the same ritual for all of them, obviously, but I wanted to make sure they'd fit in here. They came out here looking for a good time, and who was I to dissuade them?" Caroline actually giggled, and tossed her hair in an ostentatiously flirtatious gesture. Sam wondered what movie she'd stolen that from.
"Who, indeed?" Sam answered, smiling to cover up the rising anger.
----------------------
"No, I think I like it the other way." Sam could hear Caroline's voice through the thin wood of the door.
"How's that?" Rourke replied.
"Better, but it's still not quite..."
Sam knocked and entered almost in the same motion, and then stood in the doorway, staring. Rourke was standing, a strange symbol floating in the air before him, its lines made of many colors of glowing light. Caroline was pointing at some lines on one side, and as he watched, Rourke seemingly moved the lines of light with his hands, like he was painting, and now they curved to connect with the rest of the symbol more smoothly.
"That's it! Perfect," Caroline said, clasping her hands. "Put it down, I need to see it from above..."
At a gesture from Rourke, the entire glowing symbol rotated in mid-air and then sank to within an inch of the floor. Caroline stood to examine it, her white dress illuminated by the rainbow light, and nodded in satisfaction.
"That's just right. You have it memorized now?" Caroline asked.
"Yes ma'am."
"All right, let it go. Go ahead and relax, I have to talk to Sam," she said, smiling in satisfaction. Rourke bowed, clenched his fist, and the symbol faded into nothingness. His smile held more than a touch of arrogance as he brushed past Sam in the doorway, and Sam turned to regard Caroline with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, Rourke's a much better artist than me," Caroline said, answering Sam's unspoken question. "I just had to work out this one symbol, and I couldn't quite get it right. He's very good at that kind of thing."
"I see..."
----------------------------------
Nathan Thinks, Then Writes - One thing I tend to do a lot of in my own writing is character-driven introspection, or internal monologues. This is something my favorite author tends to do a lot, and I tend to do it too. This scene had Nathan doing some cogitating before starting to write his “legacy” letter to his sons. However, no other character in the story got this kind of internal press time, and it was unfair to devote several paragraphs to Nathan when we had no balancing paragraphs from the other three protagonists. Basically, this was cut for pacing and style.
Nathan had learned a fair amount of the Winchesters’ lives from Sam, how they had basically grown up on the road, with Dean taking care of Sam every time their father had to leave them for a job. Hearing that, and then seeing how used Dean was to employing every trick in the book to float himself along with virtually no resources but his skills… That had pulled at new scars. To be sure, that kind of life was uncertain and dysfunctional and dangerous, but the Winchesters had grown up with a special closeness.
The Petrellis hadn’t been terribly close, not being from a high society family full of secrets. They had been raised by nannies and tutors, with their parents bestowing their affection like blessings from Olympus on high, infrequently and at random intervals. That had made it too easy for Nathan and Peter to seek out real affection in the worst and best possible place, each other. In that respect, they couldn’t have been that different from Sam and Dean.
But loving Peter had made it easy, far too easy, for Nathan give up Heidi, Simon, and Monty for his brother. He’d wanted to stay with his first love, afraid to give it up for normalcy. And while he loved Peter more than his own life, being away from Heidi and the boys for so long made him miss them. It wasn’t the all-consuming obsession he’d had when Peter was gone, but still a genuine pain, a regret that he couldn’t have been there for his family, loved them better, been a better husband and father.
For them, he wished he could have been normal; that no one would have had powers, that him and Peter might have remained only loving brothers instead of what they were, that Nathan could have never gotten involved in his father’s schemes or his mother’s plans…
But none of that was possible on the path he’d chosen. So he wanted to leave behind something for his children, whatever scraps of wisdom and experience were his to impart, whatever feeble interactions he could make that would allow him to be some kind of father to his sons. And while he’d never be able to be with them while they were growing up, maybe Simon and Monty would realize that their dad loved them in spite of his absence.
Taking out his legal pad and a pen, Nathan set down to write.
------------------------------------------
Endgame, Nathan saves the day - Because poor Nathan didn’t get a lot to do in The Secret’s in the Telling, we had kicked around the idea of having him save the day through passionate speechifying. We originally wrote this scene in a mid-morning IM session together and thought it was pretty phat. However, it was much more emotional for Sam to stab Dean than to hesitate in stabbing Nathan, not to mention that stabbing Dean ramped up the urgency of the situation. But this scene is still pretty boss, if we say so ourselves, even if we didn’t end up using it.
"Sam, look what you're doing to Dean. You're going to kill him. You're going to kill your brother. You're going to kill the only family you have left. He was willing to die to save you, more than once, and he's going to make you kill him before you open this seal.
"I can't let you hurt him... You don't know what it's like, living with yourself after you've done something unforgivable. I can't let that happen. I'm not your family; I'm only your friend. But I can't let this happen any more than he can." Nathan stepped forward and let the tip of the dagger in Sam's hand press against his chest. "Go through me Sam. It's the only way. Go through me to get to him."
Sam stared at Nathan, at the dagger, at Dean, and began to shake. The point trembled, about to slam home in Nathan's chest, when Sam's hand spasmed and dropped it, the clatter of metal against stone shocking loud.
"I can't..." Sam said, his entire frame wracking with sobs as he sank to his knees.
Dean pulled himself across the floor to gather Sam in his arms. For once, as Dean rocked him and shushed him, Sam looked like the more fragile of the two Winchester brothers.
-----------------------------------
Post Endgame, after Caroline’s defeat - I have this distressing tendency to belabor issues half to death and to want to tie up every possible loose end. In an attempt to keep this story from going over 200,000 words, BrightEyed Jill was like, “We can imply things! It’s ok, we don’t have to get explicit! Our audience is a bunch of smarty pants, they’ll understand!”
So I had a bunch of extra stuff for handing Caroline over to Bennet and the Winchesters and Petrellis posturing and angsting and stuff. These were cut both for pace, and the fact that essentially Nathan and Sam would have had to hold onto Caroline for several days, which would prove to be pretty impractical.
A day later…
“You gave her to Bennet?” Peter asked, incredulous.
“It was either that or shoot him,” Nathan said blandly. “Pete, Bennet is the only person I know that could keep someone like Caroline under control.”
“And how did you get past the whole ‘demon spell’ thing?” Dean asked. He felt amazingly good for someone that had been stabbed in the gut.
"Left out a few details," Nathan said. "But our resident cult expert," he clapped Sam on the shoulder, "Was able to provide some insight into what happened at the mansion.”
-------- [An alternate, alternate version of the scene continues below, just cut out the previous Nathan sentence.]
“I didn’t have to ‘get past’ it,” Nathan replied evenly.
“He had me there,” Sam added, still looking haunted. He was sitting on the floor of the hotel room, almost huddling, as if afraid to loom over anyone. “I convinced him.”
Dean kept himself from clenching his jaw, and counted to ten. In English and Latin. Twice. I am not going to yell at Sam, I am not going to yell at Sam…
“And?” he asked finally, proud that his voice was so even. He didn’t want to lose his cool before him and Sam had gotten some time to fix things properly between them.
“He believed me.”
“Peter, you and I are going to have a long talk with Bennet sometime soon. He agreed to take Caroline off our hands, but he wants answers. I said we’d discuss it. If he’s lucky, and we’re feeling generous, we might get back to him in a month or so.”
“We can do more than just try to beat Bennet at his own game, Nathan. We can do a lot more, like them,” Peter said, nodding at the Winchesters. “Save the world.”
"If you're trying to use us as role models, seriously, think again. This? Was a good week," Dean said. Sam actually cracked a smile at that.
"Hey, we stopped a apocalypse once..." Peter protested. The Winchesters exchanged amused glances. "Ok, so it was a small one." They actually started grinning. "Ok, ok, it was only New York, but we did stop it!"
“So you’re talking about, what? Joining forces?” Sam asked.
“Maybe. Maybe just… stop running and start shouldering more of our share of the problem.” Peter was looking right at Nathan when he said it, and Nathan… actually looked relieved.
“I’d like that.”
“Tell you what I’d like is to get the hell out of this state,” Dean opined. “We have about five counties’ worth of sheriffs that are just looking for people to bust. After that, then you guys can jaw all you want.”
"Yeah." "Totally." "Let's go."
-----------
[Yet another version of handing Caroline over to Bennet, this one with actual Bennet in it!]
Dean drove them out Lake End that evening, Peter getting them past the ragged remains of the sheriffs still standing guard at the periphery of the property. Apparently they had been very busy arresting the two dozen or so “dirty hippies” that had run screaming out of the woods earlier that day, and would have happily added the Winchesters and Petrellis to the list.
Nathan was definitely repressing a smile, and Dean was outright smirking as Peter pulled a “these are not the droids you’re looking for,” to get them free of the mess they’d made.
“What the heck did you two do?” Peter asked as they finally turned onto the highway.
“Political firestorm,” Dean said, and Nathan actually laughed out loud.
---
They stayed in a no-tell motel some hundred miles from Lake End for almost two days, the first day more or less sleeping the whole time, Caroline safely knocked out in the bathroom courtesy of drugs Peter has swiped from the hospital. But the second day was for one thing: making amends.
----
"Nathan, we've been spitting on a bonfire,” Peter said. They were in the back seat of the Impala, Caroline half-awake beside them, the Winchesters in the front, driving them back to Nathan’s car.
"After what you just went through?" Nathan asked incredulously.
Peter ran a hand through his hair. "No, look... We could be doing more. I mean, look at what Sam and Dean are doing."
"If you're trying to use us as role models, seriously, think again. This? Was a good week," Sam said. Dean snorted in amusement from the front seat. Whatever they had talked about during their day off had substantially cleared the air between them. A lot of it was a combination of relief and a stoic façade, but Peter could tell there was some actual easing of tension between them.
"Hey, we stopped a apocalypse once..." Peter protested. The Winchesters exchanged amused glances. "Ok, so it was a small one." They actually started grinning. "Ok, ok, it was only New York, but we did stop it!"
"Pete, what are you getting at?"
"Matt and Mohinder are running their end of things pretty much all alone. And we're only helping one person at a time. Make a fake ID, give them some tips on staying hidden and a little extra cash; Nathan, we can do more! There are plenty of people out there that would help us, if we just could stop having to run from the Company."
"You were reading my mind, weren't you?"
"About making a deal with Bennet? Yeah."
"Are you on board about that?"
Peter regarded the stunned Caroline next to them, turned back to Nathan, and nodded firmly.
"Sam, Dean, would you mind helping us one last time?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Noah Bennet was waiting for them back at Nathan and Dean's hotel, standing next to his car, the Haitian by his side, watching them with a raised eyebrow as they all piled out of the Winchester's Impala.
"Where was the transmitter?" Nathan said in greeting.
"ID box, NYPD badge. You never use that one," he said in response. Caroline, entirely bewildered, stood between Peter and Sam, looking like she was torn between being interested and being scared out of her mind.
"I'll remember that for next time."
"So, this is Caroline?" Bennet asked.
"Yes..." Caroline said softly, and Nathan and Dean took a step to get in between her and Bennet.
"My colleagues got the other three that escaped from Tidewater. They have some very interesting stories to tell. Stories that put you at the center of a great deal of mayhem. There's been a great deal of damage, and deaths. Someone has to answer for that," Bennet said. His tone managed to convey both fatherly disapproval and a subtle threat.
"I know, I know. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what this would lead to, what was happening to me... Please..." Caroline said, blinking back tears. "What can I do?"
"That depends. What can you do?"
"You don't have to be such as ass, for starters," Dean said loudly, glaring at Bennet.
"Noah, she needs help and training. Locking her in the Company basement isn't going to do anyone any good," Nathan said.
"It's been us against the world for all this time, but you know things have been getting worse," Peter added. "And not just for us. For you. For them too," he said, nodding at the Winchesters. "Everything's going wrong, and it's going to get worse if you just keep locking everyone up."
"Wait, what?!" Caroline asked, and Sam just tightened his grip on her arm. She was damn lucky not to be dead with a bullet in her brain... if Sam hadn't done something worse to her.
"And what are you proposing?" Bennet asked, seemingly ignoring the byplay.
"Bennet, we saved the world back there, and succeeded without anyone blowing up. All of us together, them, and us. They knew the source of the things you couldn't explain; we had extra skills to give them an edge. Our worlds are running up against each other. We all have to adapt, you and the Company included. We need everyone's help," Nathan said.
"And Caroline?"
"She needs supervision, training, and has a hell of a lot to pay off. To be frank, Peter and I don't have the time. You do, and you're better at this than us," Peter said.
Bennet looked pensive, and regarded Caroline thoughtfully.
"Her ability?"
"Language Acquisition," Peter said. Just for kicks, he repeated it in Japanese and French, and smirked to see Bennet and the Haitian look at him, then Caroline, with some respect.
"I see... I don't suppose you'd all be willing to come in and talk about this further?"
"We're looking for a sea change, but we're not idiots."
Bennet actually smiled. "I could make you come in, you realize."
"Maybe your friend can negate our abilities, but not theirs," Peter pointed out. Bennet took a slightly longer look at the heavily-armed, tall, strong Winchesters, and seemed to reconsider his options. Dean and Sam gave him their best, "Do ya, punk?" grins, and Bennet nodded once, sharply.
"So you're looking to renegotiate?"
"No, we're looking to make a real difference. If people had known they weren't alone, Caroline would have never been able to start her little cult."
"I-," Caroline started.
"Don't talk. Really. Just don't," Sam advised. Caroline shut up.
"If you wanted to take off the veil, you shouldn't have killed yourself, Nathan."
"I'm not coming back to life, not even for this. But you damn well know you can do it."
"You overestimate my influence."
"Considering that you're here? I doubt it Noah. Take Caroline with you, and listen to what she has to say. It might be enlightening. We'll call you after you've had a chance to think it over."
Bennet stepped forward, and Nathan and Dean let him pass between them to get to Caroline. He paused for a second, his hand on her elbow, knowing full well he was between four wanted criminals, and walked her to the car with deliberate slowness.
"I'll be waiting for your call," Bennet said over his shoulder. "I think we'll have quite a bit to discuss."
There was a long pause as Bennet, Caroline, and the Haitian finally got in their car and rolled down the road. There was a longer pause as they finally got out of sight.
"So, I'm all for being not in Louisiana right now," Peter said suddenly.
"Yeah." "Totally." "Let's go."
-------------
Peter and Dean at the hospital - These were a few scenes of Dean and Peter at the hospital after Dean got stabbed. Essentially cut for running time and pacing.
Peter blinked into existence behind a pillar outside the Emergency Room entrance to St. Mary's Hospital in New York. Of every hospital that he'd ever visited, this one, where he'd spent hundreds of hour while getting his nursing license, was the easiest to find even when exhausted.
"Help! Please, we need help!" Peter shouted, the weight of Dean's nearly unconscious body bearing him to the pavement. In seconds, they were enveloped in stethscopes and white coats, and Peter let them take charge with gratitude.
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When Dean woke up again, he was in a hospital room, not a completely uncommon occurrence, feeling like his stomach was on fire and generally aching like a sonofabitch.
"Hey."
Dean turned to find Peter sitting at his bedside. Or, more correctly, waking up after having nodded off in his chair leaning against the foot of Dean's bed. A quick look out of the window told Dean it was night; he'd lost at least a good eight hours, maybe more.
"Surgery went well, I mean, as well as it could, considering," Peter said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Sam and Nathan are ok; I've been checking up on them."
Dean kept himself relaxed against the pillows. Having a telepathic friend had its advantages. He had answers before he even had to talk.
"We're in New York, sorry, it was the only place I could think of in a pinch. And it's almost eleven. I think we better get out of here before the friendly police officers I sent on a wild goose chase remember they were supposed to question you."
"I'm all for that," Dean said, and tried to sit up. He regretted it at once, both for the fact that he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, and the fact that he nearly fainted from the pain.
"Wait, wait, hang on, let me try something," Peter said, standing up to keep Dean pressed into the pillows. Dean flopped back, pissed off at being so helpless, as Peter started tugging at his gown.
"Dude, if I can't sit up, I don't think I'm-," Dean started, and then stopped himself before he turned down good nookie. He had a reputation to maintain.
Peter smirked, but shook his head, only shoving the gown aside enough to get at Dean's wound. With one hand, Peter unbuttoned his own shirt, and Dean raised his eyebrow as high as it would go.
"Sorry, I only saw Aaron do this a few times, and I don't want to bleed on another shirt..."
Before Dean had a chance to ask, "Wha...?" Peter placed both warm hands on Dean's abdomen. There was a thrilling rush of energy that erased every trace of pain, and then Peter bit back a scream as Dean's gut-stab appeared on Peter's unmarked skin. Dean stared in astonishment as Peter breathed through the pain, watching the wound fade as Peter's healing ability kicked in. In under thirty seconds, the wound was gone completely.
"Sorry I couldn't do that before..." Peter whispered. I was running too hot, too damn close to going nuclear again. I'm so sorry...
Dean wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but-. "Ask Sam, he'll tell you," Peter broke in.
"Yeah. I will," Dean said solemnly, and reached over to grab his clothes from the floor. "Let's get out of here, man. I think we have shit to do."
Peter held out his hand, and the two of them vanished.
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Peter and Sam Talking About... Stuff - These were a few short scenes, scene sketches, and/or sentences we never ended up finding a home for.
Sam - "Why's this 'Company' have to keep everyone contained so brutally?" Peter - "They were going to get someone in high office to help keep things covered up, but that kinda fell through when their guy had other priorities." Sam - "What guy was that?" Peter - "Nathan."
--
Peter knelt on the floor at Sam's side, silently fuming. Sam was being treated like visiting royalty, which is what he was, in Caroline's eyes.
--
Sam hadn't slept. He wanted to sleep. He was tired. He even went to his room, sometime after dawn, and lay down. But sleep wouldn't come.
--
Not for the first time, Sam wished Dean or Nathan was here to talk some sense into Peter. He seemed almost disturbingly comfortable with taking orders from older brother types.
--
Peter gently brushed Sam's hand off him. "Your powers are dangerous, Sam. You know that, right?"
"Just because a demon tells me to use them doesn't mean I shouldn't."
"Doesn't it?" Peter asked, giving him a skeptical look.
"Do you have a better idea as to how exactly we're supposed to stop Caroline? In case you haven't noticed, she's not getting any weaker."
"I know," Peter said. He looked searchingly at Sam for a moment, and then darted forward to press a kiss to Sam's lips.
Startled, Sam pulled away. "Whoa, what...?"