Shadows of the Night - 14/15 - AU - SPN fic
Title: Shadows of the Night
Author: starpixie16
Chapters: 14/15
Rating: NC-17 [mild language, explicit sexual content (chapter 9)]
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean/OFC
Warning/Spoilers: AU, sexual situations; vague allusions to events from season one.
Summary: In September 1932, Sam and Dean Winchester receive a telegram leading them to California. On their last night there, Sam suddenly has a nightmare of a man's death at the hands of a mysterious woman. The brothers investigate, and in the process, Sam learns a few secrets about Dean's past.
Author's Notes: Many huge thanks to elanurel for being my beta. This story also serves as my response to challenge #8 at spn_het_love: Then She Appeared.
<< Previous Chapter
Shadows of the Night
______________________________
Chapter Fourteen
Sam opened his eyes slowly, the earlier agony diminished to a dull ache throughout his skull. Glancing out the window, he saw that the Chevy was no longer parked outside of the Golden Peacock. Their surroundings had transformed into a darkened neighborhood of closed shops and apartment buildings.
"Where ... are we?" Sam inquired, voice clouded with the grogginess of lingering pain and sleep.
Dean had rolled down his window, resting his arm along the door, a lit cigarette burning between his fingers. He turned to Sam, evidently surprised to see him awake. "After you dozed off, Sid came out and hailed a taxi. I tailed her the whole way here." He gestured to the building across from where they were parked. "She went into that building."
Sam rubbed at his eyes, his fingers feeling a little heavy. "What was in those aspirin you gave me?"
"Same thing that's always in 'em," Dean responded easily. "Codeine."
Sam sighed. He had forgotten that the aspirin pills Dean kept on hand were a prescription brand laced with codeine; if he hadn't, he would have only taken one.
"You needed the rest anyway, kiddo," Dean continued. "Feel any better?"
"Well, the pain seems to be gone for the most part," Sam answered, sitting up. His muscles ached from sleeping in such a cramped position. "Not sure how I'll hold up against all the codeine."
"Oh, the worst of it ought to be out of your system by now. It's been over two hours." Dean took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of hazy smoke into the night air.
"I guess so," Sam agreed, mentally trying to calculate how long it might take for a person's body to dispel the content of two aspirin tablets. Factoring in when he'd last eaten, he decided that maybe Dean was right. "Say, what time is it?"
Dean checked his watch. "12:15." He flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement outside. "Still another 30 minutes to wait."
And, fortunately, enough time for Sam to overcome the bleariness weighing him down.
At least ten minutes before 12:45, the brothers got out of the car. Dean reached under the dash, pulling out his favorite automatic -- a Colt M1911 that he'd been using since John Winchester had taken him on his first hunt. Sam pocketed his own weapon as he walked around the front of the automobile. Each was loaded with iron rounds that had been blessed by an honest and true man of God, a family friend that lived in Minnesota.
Dean tucked a flask inside his jacket, but it wasn't the one that he kept filled with whiskey. This one contained pure holy water.
When they were ready, they crossed the street in rapid strides, wasting no time in searching for an entrance. They found the fire escape impossible to scale, the ladder folded underneath the first platform on a hinge that could only be accessed from the platform itself. This led them to the main door, which was locked, but Dean picked it easily, smiling as he turned the knob to allow them access inside. The halls and stairways were quiet as they crept through the building.
"Any idea what floor this dame was on?" Dean demanded in a whisper.
Sam shook his head. "Didn't you notice when she came in?"
"Well, a light went on about five stories up. That could've been her." He nodded to his right. "The apartment was facing the street."
"You sure?" Sam really didn't care to be involved in breaking into the wrong residence.
"Rely on my instincts, Sammy," Dean returned with a sly smile as he started up the stairs.
All of the tenants seemed to be in bed, which made perfect sense considering the hour. The entire building was blanketed in a heavy stillness. Sam and Dean's ears were attuned to every sound -- the soft tapping of their footsteps on the wooden stairs, the subtle creaks of the floorboards, and the deafening silence of the occupants' slumber behind closed doors.
They were on the stairs halfway up to the fifth floor when an abrupt thud shattered the quiet. The brothers exchanged a sharp look before hurrying toward the source of the sound.
The apartment had a number on the door, but Dean didn't give the numeral the slightest attention as he tried the knob. Locked. Drawing his gun, he stepped back, raising his foot to deliver a swift kick to the sealed door. The deadbolt broke, the door swinging in hard on its hinges as Dean and Sam burst through the entrance.
A bedroom led directly off from the parlor, and inside was Sam's nightmare playing out like a horrifying reel of film. Helena had her hands wrapped around Sidney Sheridan's throat, the young woman fighting against her attacker as the life was drained from her. There was a clock lying on its side against the hardwood floor -- the origin of the thud that had alerted them seconds earlier.
Dean aimed the gun at Helena's back, face set in an expression of ferocious determination. "Hey!"
Helena stiffened, loosening her grip on Sidney. She turned to face the hunters, a wicked smile tugging at her blood-red lips. Before Dean could press his finger against the trigger, the mara extended her arms, flinging the men aside as if they were nothing.
"Didn't expect that, did you, fellas?" She sneered, walking toward them. Her nightgown was as white as her platinum hair, the fabric flowing loosely from her body like ribbons of smoke in a breeze. She glanced carefully at Dean, whose head had crashed into a nearby chair before his body sunk to the floor. Shaking her head, she smiled as she turned to Sam. She was on him in an instant, pressing his back against the wall. "Looks like it's just me and you, dear."
Sam swallowed the bile rising in his throat. His eyes darted toward Dean, who lay slumped unresponsively on the floor, and Sidney who was dazedly struggling to pull herself out of bed.
"Sam, is it?" Helena stared at him with a penetrating gaze, her eyes taking on an unusual sheen of silvery light. "It's been such a pleasure, you know." Her hand came up to stroke his cheek roughly. "A psychic. You can't imagine how delicious it is to feed off of someone like you." She flashed her teeth in a devious grin. "Why, you could have kept me going for weeks. First nightmares, then visions. I'd barely have to bother with anybody else."
Sidney had softly tumbled out of bed behind Helena and was now crawling across the floor. She stopped as she reached her vanity table, pressing her back against the row of drawers as she stared toward Helena with wide-eyed fear. Sam waited for her to scream or faint, but she did neither, too paralyzed by shock to react.
"It's a shame, Samuel," Helena continued, making another rough caress over his cheek. "Your nightmares were so wonderful. I didn't even have to work on them. You simply created them yourself." Her face hovered less than an inch from his, silver eyes glinting. "See, that's why psychics are such grand playthings."
Dean could hear the evil thing's voice taunting his brother as his eyelids fluttered open. His head swam as he drug himself up from the floor, but he'd fought through much worse injuries than this -- a little bump on the head couldn't keep him down for very long.
He rose to his feet, glancing over at Sidney who was staring up at him in confusion. Leaning down to pick up his gun from where it had dropped nearby, he paused to whisper to her. "You okay?"
Sidney nodded, swallowing as she replied with a weak, "Y-yes, I believe so." Her brown hair was rumpled, and she was gingerly clutching her throat with one hand. Dean noticed traces of darkening bruises appearing beneath Sidney's protective fingers.
Dean turned his attention back to Helena as she hungrily eyed his little brother. Nothing ever looked at Sammy like that and lived to tell about it. At least not as long as Dean was around.
"Hey," Dean spoke up, gun once again targeted on Helena's back, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. "Get away from him."
Helena whirled around so quickly that it was if she had appeared next to Sam without the movements in between. "Now, Dean," she cooed, regarding him with a feral grin, "You wouldn't dare shoot me when I'm so close to your dear brother." Her grin widened. "Now what if you missed?"
Dean revealed a grin of his own. "Oh, I wouldn't miss."
Helena growled, forcefully grabbing Sam by the hair. She bent his head back, shooting Dean a defiant stare. "Here's how it goes, honey: you shoot me, I snap his neck so quick you won't believe your eyes."
Dean's expression hardened, but an unmistakable glimmer of fear and pain washed over his gaze. He lowered his weapon, placing it at his feet.
"Oh, you're such a good little boy," Helena praised in a mocking tone. She released her grip on Sam's scalp, but didn't move from his side. "Too bad I'll probably have to kill you anyway."
Dean brought out the flask he had concealed inside his jacket, stepping forward. "How about one last drink then? On you." He splashed the contents on Helena's skin, the water burning the mara's unholy flesh as it hissed and steamed.
Helena recoiled from Sam, staggering to her feet with rage in her eyes as she shrieked furiously. "You mother ..." She snarled, erupting into hysterical laughter as her platinum waves fell into her face. "Holy water, you little shit!"
"That's right, sister." Dean's lips curled into a smirk of satisfaction. "Burns like hell, doesn't it?"
"You haven't seen hell yet, Winchester," Helena screamed. "I'll show you, you son of a bitch! I'll give you the personal tour myself when I flay you with my bare hands!"
"I hardly think so, baby." Dean snatched up his gun and fired. The iron slug embedded itself in Helena's heart, and she crumpled to the floor with a groan. Her body flickered, giving way to the appearance of a hideous old hag before crumbling into a pile of dust.
Dean rushed over to Sam, patting him firmly the shoulder. "You okay, little brother?"
Sam nodded. "Swell." He rose to his feet, gaze shifting directly toward Sidney. "Is she okay?"
Sidney shakily stood, leaning against her vanity table as if she feared she might collapse. "What happened? What did you do? Who are you?"
Dean looked to Sam with a wry smile. "Maybe not, but she's asking a lot of good questions for a dame who's not too well."
Sam came closer to Sidney, reaching out a hand to steady her. "You're going to be all right. We won't hurt you."
"You killed Helena." Sidney stared at them in shock. "Didn't you?"
"Well, yeah," Dean admitted. "Your friend ... she wasn't quite human."
Sidney put a hand to her head, cheeks pale from the events that had taken place mere seconds ago. "I'm afraid I may faint."
Dean quickly offered her a flask. "Take a belt of this."
"Water?" she inquired curiously.
Dean grinned. "Nope. This one's all whiskey."
Next Chapter >>
Author: starpixie16
Chapters: 14/15
Rating: NC-17 [mild language, explicit sexual content (chapter 9)]
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean/OFC
Warning/Spoilers: AU, sexual situations; vague allusions to events from season one.
Summary: In September 1932, Sam and Dean Winchester receive a telegram leading them to California. On their last night there, Sam suddenly has a nightmare of a man's death at the hands of a mysterious woman. The brothers investigate, and in the process, Sam learns a few secrets about Dean's past.
Author's Notes: Many huge thanks to elanurel for being my beta. This story also serves as my response to challenge #8 at spn_het_love: Then She Appeared.
<< Previous Chapter
Shadows of the Night
______________________________
Chapter Fourteen
Sam opened his eyes slowly, the earlier agony diminished to a dull ache throughout his skull. Glancing out the window, he saw that the Chevy was no longer parked outside of the Golden Peacock. Their surroundings had transformed into a darkened neighborhood of closed shops and apartment buildings.
"Where ... are we?" Sam inquired, voice clouded with the grogginess of lingering pain and sleep.
Dean had rolled down his window, resting his arm along the door, a lit cigarette burning between his fingers. He turned to Sam, evidently surprised to see him awake. "After you dozed off, Sid came out and hailed a taxi. I tailed her the whole way here." He gestured to the building across from where they were parked. "She went into that building."
Sam rubbed at his eyes, his fingers feeling a little heavy. "What was in those aspirin you gave me?"
"Same thing that's always in 'em," Dean responded easily. "Codeine."
Sam sighed. He had forgotten that the aspirin pills Dean kept on hand were a prescription brand laced with codeine; if he hadn't, he would have only taken one.
"You needed the rest anyway, kiddo," Dean continued. "Feel any better?"
"Well, the pain seems to be gone for the most part," Sam answered, sitting up. His muscles ached from sleeping in such a cramped position. "Not sure how I'll hold up against all the codeine."
"Oh, the worst of it ought to be out of your system by now. It's been over two hours." Dean took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of hazy smoke into the night air.
"I guess so," Sam agreed, mentally trying to calculate how long it might take for a person's body to dispel the content of two aspirin tablets. Factoring in when he'd last eaten, he decided that maybe Dean was right. "Say, what time is it?"
Dean checked his watch. "12:15." He flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement outside. "Still another 30 minutes to wait."
And, fortunately, enough time for Sam to overcome the bleariness weighing him down.
At least ten minutes before 12:45, the brothers got out of the car. Dean reached under the dash, pulling out his favorite automatic -- a Colt M1911 that he'd been using since John Winchester had taken him on his first hunt. Sam pocketed his own weapon as he walked around the front of the automobile. Each was loaded with iron rounds that had been blessed by an honest and true man of God, a family friend that lived in Minnesota.
Dean tucked a flask inside his jacket, but it wasn't the one that he kept filled with whiskey. This one contained pure holy water.
When they were ready, they crossed the street in rapid strides, wasting no time in searching for an entrance. They found the fire escape impossible to scale, the ladder folded underneath the first platform on a hinge that could only be accessed from the platform itself. This led them to the main door, which was locked, but Dean picked it easily, smiling as he turned the knob to allow them access inside. The halls and stairways were quiet as they crept through the building.
"Any idea what floor this dame was on?" Dean demanded in a whisper.
Sam shook his head. "Didn't you notice when she came in?"
"Well, a light went on about five stories up. That could've been her." He nodded to his right. "The apartment was facing the street."
"You sure?" Sam really didn't care to be involved in breaking into the wrong residence.
"Rely on my instincts, Sammy," Dean returned with a sly smile as he started up the stairs.
All of the tenants seemed to be in bed, which made perfect sense considering the hour. The entire building was blanketed in a heavy stillness. Sam and Dean's ears were attuned to every sound -- the soft tapping of their footsteps on the wooden stairs, the subtle creaks of the floorboards, and the deafening silence of the occupants' slumber behind closed doors.
They were on the stairs halfway up to the fifth floor when an abrupt thud shattered the quiet. The brothers exchanged a sharp look before hurrying toward the source of the sound.
The apartment had a number on the door, but Dean didn't give the numeral the slightest attention as he tried the knob. Locked. Drawing his gun, he stepped back, raising his foot to deliver a swift kick to the sealed door. The deadbolt broke, the door swinging in hard on its hinges as Dean and Sam burst through the entrance.
A bedroom led directly off from the parlor, and inside was Sam's nightmare playing out like a horrifying reel of film. Helena had her hands wrapped around Sidney Sheridan's throat, the young woman fighting against her attacker as the life was drained from her. There was a clock lying on its side against the hardwood floor -- the origin of the thud that had alerted them seconds earlier.
Dean aimed the gun at Helena's back, face set in an expression of ferocious determination. "Hey!"
Helena stiffened, loosening her grip on Sidney. She turned to face the hunters, a wicked smile tugging at her blood-red lips. Before Dean could press his finger against the trigger, the mara extended her arms, flinging the men aside as if they were nothing.
"Didn't expect that, did you, fellas?" She sneered, walking toward them. Her nightgown was as white as her platinum hair, the fabric flowing loosely from her body like ribbons of smoke in a breeze. She glanced carefully at Dean, whose head had crashed into a nearby chair before his body sunk to the floor. Shaking her head, she smiled as she turned to Sam. She was on him in an instant, pressing his back against the wall. "Looks like it's just me and you, dear."
Sam swallowed the bile rising in his throat. His eyes darted toward Dean, who lay slumped unresponsively on the floor, and Sidney who was dazedly struggling to pull herself out of bed.
"Sam, is it?" Helena stared at him with a penetrating gaze, her eyes taking on an unusual sheen of silvery light. "It's been such a pleasure, you know." Her hand came up to stroke his cheek roughly. "A psychic. You can't imagine how delicious it is to feed off of someone like you." She flashed her teeth in a devious grin. "Why, you could have kept me going for weeks. First nightmares, then visions. I'd barely have to bother with anybody else."
Sidney had softly tumbled out of bed behind Helena and was now crawling across the floor. She stopped as she reached her vanity table, pressing her back against the row of drawers as she stared toward Helena with wide-eyed fear. Sam waited for her to scream or faint, but she did neither, too paralyzed by shock to react.
"It's a shame, Samuel," Helena continued, making another rough caress over his cheek. "Your nightmares were so wonderful. I didn't even have to work on them. You simply created them yourself." Her face hovered less than an inch from his, silver eyes glinting. "See, that's why psychics are such grand playthings."
Dean could hear the evil thing's voice taunting his brother as his eyelids fluttered open. His head swam as he drug himself up from the floor, but he'd fought through much worse injuries than this -- a little bump on the head couldn't keep him down for very long.
He rose to his feet, glancing over at Sidney who was staring up at him in confusion. Leaning down to pick up his gun from where it had dropped nearby, he paused to whisper to her. "You okay?"
Sidney nodded, swallowing as she replied with a weak, "Y-yes, I believe so." Her brown hair was rumpled, and she was gingerly clutching her throat with one hand. Dean noticed traces of darkening bruises appearing beneath Sidney's protective fingers.
Dean turned his attention back to Helena as she hungrily eyed his little brother. Nothing ever looked at Sammy like that and lived to tell about it. At least not as long as Dean was around.
"Hey," Dean spoke up, gun once again targeted on Helena's back, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. "Get away from him."
Helena whirled around so quickly that it was if she had appeared next to Sam without the movements in between. "Now, Dean," she cooed, regarding him with a feral grin, "You wouldn't dare shoot me when I'm so close to your dear brother." Her grin widened. "Now what if you missed?"
Dean revealed a grin of his own. "Oh, I wouldn't miss."
Helena growled, forcefully grabbing Sam by the hair. She bent his head back, shooting Dean a defiant stare. "Here's how it goes, honey: you shoot me, I snap his neck so quick you won't believe your eyes."
Dean's expression hardened, but an unmistakable glimmer of fear and pain washed over his gaze. He lowered his weapon, placing it at his feet.
"Oh, you're such a good little boy," Helena praised in a mocking tone. She released her grip on Sam's scalp, but didn't move from his side. "Too bad I'll probably have to kill you anyway."
Dean brought out the flask he had concealed inside his jacket, stepping forward. "How about one last drink then? On you." He splashed the contents on Helena's skin, the water burning the mara's unholy flesh as it hissed and steamed.
Helena recoiled from Sam, staggering to her feet with rage in her eyes as she shrieked furiously. "You mother ..." She snarled, erupting into hysterical laughter as her platinum waves fell into her face. "Holy water, you little shit!"
"That's right, sister." Dean's lips curled into a smirk of satisfaction. "Burns like hell, doesn't it?"
"You haven't seen hell yet, Winchester," Helena screamed. "I'll show you, you son of a bitch! I'll give you the personal tour myself when I flay you with my bare hands!"
"I hardly think so, baby." Dean snatched up his gun and fired. The iron slug embedded itself in Helena's heart, and she crumpled to the floor with a groan. Her body flickered, giving way to the appearance of a hideous old hag before crumbling into a pile of dust.
Dean rushed over to Sam, patting him firmly the shoulder. "You okay, little brother?"
Sam nodded. "Swell." He rose to his feet, gaze shifting directly toward Sidney. "Is she okay?"
Sidney shakily stood, leaning against her vanity table as if she feared she might collapse. "What happened? What did you do? Who are you?"
Dean looked to Sam with a wry smile. "Maybe not, but she's asking a lot of good questions for a dame who's not too well."
Sam came closer to Sidney, reaching out a hand to steady her. "You're going to be all right. We won't hurt you."
"You killed Helena." Sidney stared at them in shock. "Didn't you?"
"Well, yeah," Dean admitted. "Your friend ... she wasn't quite human."
Sidney put a hand to her head, cheeks pale from the events that had taken place mere seconds ago. "I'm afraid I may faint."
Dean quickly offered her a flask. "Take a belt of this."
"Water?" she inquired curiously.
Dean grinned. "Nope. This one's all whiskey."
Next Chapter >>