Vengeance Is Mine 7/?
Title: Vengeance Is Mine
Genre: gen, h/c
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence,
Characters: Sam, Dean/OFC,
Chapter word count: 2667
Warning: Season 2 Finale Spoiler
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. =( Just having fun with them.
~*~*~
Sam smiled and disappeared up the stairwell and Blanche listened to his steps over her head.
"Where'd Sam go?" She turned at Dean's voice behind her and pointed a finger up towards the ceiling.
"Upstairs. He took his laptop." She glanced at the phone in Dean's hand. "Did you reach Bobby?"
Dean shook his head and slid the phone into his pocket. "I left a message. he must be out on a hunt." Dean frowned. "i just hope he gets it soon. We don't have much time."
Blanche looked past him to the Impala in the yard and nodded conversationally toward it.
"Nice car," she commented. "A '67 or '68?"
Dean looked pleased. " '67," he confirmed and Blanche smiled.
"She's in wonderful condition. Had her long?"
Pride practically poured off Dean as he moved to the door, looking fondly at the Impala.
"My dad gave her to me years ago," he said quietly. "There's not a better car in the country," he added boastfully and Blanche hid her smile as she stepped to his side and gazed at the Impala.
"I wouldn't disagree," she smiled and Dean glanced down at her and back at the Impala.
"You wanna go for a ride? We can drive out to the reservoir. I want to look around anyway and see if we can find any evidence that Jenny's ghost has been by."
Blanche's face brightened slightly. "Yeah, that'd be cool," she accepted. "She looks like a smooth ride."
"She is," Dean stated with a grin and a flick of his eyebrows. "I'll tell Sam we're going out." He turned and tramped up the stairs, hollering for his brother.
"Sam. Sammy!"
"What is it Dean?" Sam burst out of the bedroom and started down the stairs, looking worried. Dean stopped on the fifth step and raised his eyebrows.
"Blanche and I are going to check out the reservoir. You stay here and wait for Bobby's call. I don't know if we get service out there."
Sam looked suspicious. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "I'll call you and let you know what he says."
Dean nodded. "Right." Turning, he rejoined Blanche in the doorway. "Alright, let's go," he grinned and she smiled back, her clear gray eyes playful.
"Can I drive?" she requested as they crossed the yard and Dean was quick to respond.
"Nononono. No," Dean denied instantly, chuckling. "Uh uh. Nobody drives my baby but me. Sam sometimes. No one else."
Blanche rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Okay. Shotgun then." She laughed and opened the door, sliding in and slamming it behind her. "Nice. Leather seats."
Dean slammed his door and started the engine, grinning over at Blanche. "Purrs like a kitten," he boasted and she laughed and nodded.
"Yes she does." Men. Men and cars. She shook her head. The way to a man's heart wasn't through his stomach. It was through his car. She bit back her smile and rolled down the window, letting the warm, indian summer air wash over her, tossing her hair in her face.
Sam thumped himself onto the couch as listened as the Impala cruised out of earshot. Might as well relax while Dean was off fooling around under pretenses of work. He rolled his eyes and flicked on the television, browsing lazily through the channels.
At the bottom of the road, Blanche motioned for Dean to turn left, away from town. "It's about five minutes up that way," she informed him. Real pretty spot."
Minutes later, Dean was slowing and turning onto a smooth dirt road, at Blanche's direction.
Bright red, bronze and yellow leaves drifted lazily down on the Impala from the canopy of trees above, swirling around her tires as his alive.
The car slowed further and then pulled off into a clearing, crunching across the drifts of dry leaves.
"Just park here," Blanche instructed, and Dean stopped in the center.
Twisting the key, he removed it and tucked it into his pocket as he opened his door and stepped out, stirring the leaves under foot.
Blanche swung her door closed and crunched around to Dean's side, grabbing his hand.
"Come on," she urged, pulling him across the clearing. "This way."
Dean went willingly and was almost disappointed when Blanche dropped his hand. Hers was warm and her grip firm. The hard and soft combination of her personality intrigued him and made his head swim.
"There it is." Blanche stopped at the tree line and stood gazing across the huge manmade lake. It's cement sides sloped down to form a bowl, cupping the water 50 feet below.
Dean moved past Blanche and gazed over the edge, staring at the ripples far below.
Blanche had moved closer when he turned, but remained standing slightly behind him.
"You're not afraid of falling in are you?" he asked, vaguely surprised to find her weakness.
Blanche flushed slightly. "Any sensible person would be," she defended. "If the fall didn't kill you, good luck getting out."
She took a step back. "Come on. Let's look around now; see if there are any buildings nearby or anywhere Jenny's ghost could be living. To use that word very loosely." She grinned at the irony and Dean looked amused.
Falling into step they moved slowly parallel with the reservoir, eyes roaming across the vicinity. They completed a circuit around the lake, not finding any signs that anyone at all had been there recently.
"How long have you been a hunter Dean?" Blanche broke a branch of a sapling and began tearing little pieces of off the leaves, moving slowly to edge of the reservoir to drop the tiny fragments out over the water.
Dean stopped beside her and watched them spiral down to turn to damp specks of the waters surface.
"I went on my first hunt when I was 16," he replied. "My dad trained me from a very young age. Sam was older though, before he found out what it was Dad actually did for a living." He aimlessly kicked leaves over the edge.
Blanche cast a look at him. "Sam told me he died about two years ago," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."
The muscles in Dean's jaw clenched momentarily and he was slow to answer. "yeah."
"How did it happen?" she wondered and Dean hesitated again.
"He made a deal with a demon," he said finally and Blanche turned to give him a surprised look.
"Why on earth would he do that?" she asked incredulously. "Every hunter knows better than to deal with a demon."
Before Blanche could blink Dean had grabbed her shoulders in an iron grip and was shaking her.
"Don't you ever talk about my dad like that you-- Bitch," he hissed in her face, eyes hot red-hot and angry. Blanche was too surprised to resist and hung stunned in his grasp.
"You have no idea why he made that deal," Dean spat. "He traded his life for mine. So keep your filthy mouth shut about him."
Blanche blinked rapidly and leaned back. Dean gave her one last shake before shoving her away from him.
He'd forgotten how near the edge they were. Blanche stumbled back, her eyes huge as one foot slipped off into space.
A desperate scream tore from her throat as she fell backwards, hands reaching for Dean.
Without a second thought he threw himself to his stomach and grabbed for her, his fingers brushing her arm and snagging several of her bracelets.
She jerked to stop, dangling below the lip of the reservoir, her feet scuffing for a purchase on the steep walls, Dean's touchy hold on the thin leather straps the only thing keeping her from falling.
"Hang on," Dean grunted. He inched forward, wincing at his bruised ribs, and leaned down, grabbing onto her wrist with his other hand.
"Try and crawl up," he urged, shifting to his knees. Blanche's free hand searched for a purchase and found none so she latched frantically onto Dean's wrist.
With a burst of motion, Dean lunged to his feet, stepping backwards and yanking her up to safety.
Blanche fell to her knees, heart racing and terrified tears tracking down her ashen cheeks.
Dean reached down and help her gently to her feet, breathing heavily as he helped her up with unsteady hands.
"Are you okay? Are you alright?" he asked anxiously, noting the cement-burn marks on her arm and hip where the skin had been scraped off in her fall. Angry red marks showed on her wrists as well where the bracelets had dug into the skin, but other than those, Dean couldn't find anything else.
Cupping her face in his hands, he turned her face up, anxiously peering at her.
"Are you okay?" he repeated and suddenly Blanche had caught her breath and there was fire in her eyes.
Curling her hand into a fist, she drew it back and punched Dean in the face.
Dean staggered back, hand going to his jaw as Blanche doubled over, wincing and cradling her throbbing hand.
"You almost killed me," she gasped hoarsely, voice failing her as she wiped at her tears. Dean rubbed his jaw, stepping toward her.
"Blanche, I didn't mean--"
"Stay away from me," she hissed between clenched teeth, but Dean leapt forward and jerked her away from the edge, steering her to a safe distance away.
"Blanche, I'm sorry--" he tried to reach out to her but she struck at him, tears blinding her vision.
Dean dodged easily this time and caught hold of her wrists, forcing them down and catching her tightly to his chest, holding her immovable.
She fought him weakly for a moment, the rush of fear and anger draining her and leaving her wobbly.
"You're safe now," he murmured, holding her tightly and stroking her hair comfortingly until she relaxed against him, crying softly into his tee shirt.
"I'm sorry," he said again, tilting her face up and wiping away her tears with his thumb. The sight of those gray eyes drowning in tears was too much and he lowered his head to catch her lip in his.
She jerked away and wiggled an arm free to slap him across the face. Dean winced at the impact on his already bruised cheek but did not react.
Blanche sniffed and glared at him, chest heaving with deep breaths and then suddenly she grabbed his jacket, jerking him close as she pulled his head down to kiss him hard.
Her tears were wet and salty on her lips and he tasted them on her tongue, bittersweet. Blanche's arms stole around his neck and he felt her fingers on the back of his neck.
And then suddenly it was so much more than just a spontaneous kiss and Dean felt himself grabbing her hips, pulling her up to hold her, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Heat waves spread through his veins and he could tell by the desperate way Blanche twisted her left hand into his jacket as she kissed him, that she was feeling it too.
Without his instructions, his legs carried him toward the Impala, moving fast, hands fumbling for the door handle as he balanced Blanche against the side of the car.
Then the door was open and he was tossing Blanche onto the bench and clambering in after her. The door slammed behind him and Blanche grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down hard onto her, kissing him urgently.
He groaned as she pushed him off and slammed him against the seat back, straddling him as she pulled up his shirt with feverish haste.
He helped, pulling it over his head. It dropped to the bench and was quickly joined by Blanche's tank and jeans.
Blanche lowered her head to trail slow, soft kisses down Dean's jaw and neck and across his scarred shoulder. She lingered on the handprint, kissing each fingermark before moving across chest and back up to his mouth.
She gave a little moan as she pulled his lip into her mouth, biting down on it.
The rush of pain and pleasure was heady as a shot of whiskey and Dean clenched his fingers in her hair, his other hand digging into her bare leg.
Outside, a light wind rose, swirling a smattering of bright leaves again the windows and sides of the Impala.
~*~*~
Sam woke with a start to the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously from his pocket. Jerking upright, he swung his legs over the side of the couch and dug out his phone.
"Hello?" He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to orient himself and brush away the cobwebs of sleep from his mind.
"Sam? Where th' hell is Dean?"
Sam grinned slightly and stood, stretching. "Hey Bobby," he greeted dryly. "Nice to hear your voice too."
Bobby grunted on the other end and there was a slight pause.
"Yeah. Where are you boys?"
"Little town in Tennessee. Did you get Dean's message?"
" 'Course I did. Why else would I be calling? I tried that blasted boy's cell 3 times with no answer. Where is he?"
"He went to checkout a possible ghost haunt with Blanche."
"Who th' hell's Blanche? A girl? Never mind. I can imagine what he's checking out."
Sam snorted. "Maybe. But what did you find out about the thing that's been doing the killings up here?"
Bobby's sigh was distinctly audible. "Well, from what Dean told me-- did you know that boy left two long messages on my phone? Two long long ones. Used up all my message time."
Bobby sounded disgruntled and Sam bit back a grin. "Just tell me what it is Bobby."
"Well it ain't no ghost Sam, I can tell you that much for certain. And the only thing I'm turning up is a Rusalki."
"Rusalki?" Sam repeated, pushing open the front door to move onto the porch, pacing aimlessly as he listened. "What's that?"
"It's a water spirit. Always female, either a child or adult who was drowned either through suicide or homicide. From Dean's messages I gather this girl was drowned by some high school friends. And now people are getting their throats ripped out, starting on the twentieth anniversary of her death.
Sam could practically hear Bobby's shrug. "Sounds like a Rusalki then," Sam agreed. "How do we get rid of her? Burn her bones as usual?"
"Nope."
Sam stopped pacing, surprised by the answer. "How then?" he demanded, puzzled.
"Hold your horses kid," Bobby's gruff voice rumbled on. "Apparently the Rusalki vanishes after its death is avenged, but from the sound of it, that could be a couple dozen deaths later. Am I right?"
"Yes." Sam's eyebrows puckered and he balanced himself on the edge of the step. "Go on."
"Well, I don't think anyone's ever managed to actually kill one of these things, but she might die if you keep her out of water long enough for her hair to dry."
"Really." Sam's voice was flat and his expression almost sarcastic; Bobby could clearly hear it.
"Look kid, I'm only telling you what I know. You'll just have to try it."
Sams voice was skeptical. "And what if it doesn't work?" he wondered and could almost hear Bobby shrug.
"I'll keep looking and asking for information, but you boys may just have to wing it. You're resourceful; think of something. I'll call you if I turn up anything new. Oh, and call that idjit brother of yours and find out if his ass is safe."
"Will do Bobby. Thanks, I'll pass the information along to Dean. Bye."
"Bye kid."
Sam flipped his phone shut and debated calling Dean. He glanced down at his watch.
Four o'clock. Dean had been gone for almost two hours. Maybe he should call him.
He'd just flipped his phone back open when he heard the Impala returning. So Bobby's fears were unfounded. That was good.
Sam turned and tramped into the house, flinging himself down in front of the television again.
Chapter 8