In the Shadows
Title: In the Shadows
Summary: When a café owner finds a bloody man tied up naked in her bathroom, she assumes it's going to be the strangest part of her day, but it's only the beginning.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Vaguely implied non-consenting activities by a vengeful spirit. Mostly just general pain and torment onto Dean.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 6,577
Author’s Note: Mid-Season 2 outsider POV. Birthday fic for the wonderful 888mph - happy belated birthday, darling! Countless thanks to yasminke for saving me with her absolutely awesome beta work.
~~~
It wasn’t like Joana had been delusional enough to think that the grand opening would go without a hitch. But there was a hitch, and then there was some jackass breaking into her refurbished café and smashing half her newly purchased décor to bits.
The toe of her biker boot nudged at shattered bits of ceramic. Someone had gone to town heaving her new coffee mugs all over the place. Then they’d set in on the furniture, which was knocked over and shoved against walls. A couple of the chairs and one of the tables had been splintered to pieces. Behind the table, the formerly pristinely white cabinets were smeared with something dark red that she didn’t even want to think about.
So much for this being a nice neighborhood. No wonder the old owner had sold her this place so cheap right before he’d ran out of here like his hair was on fire. The jerks who had done this better hope the police found them before she did.
With an agitated sigh, she straightened her dress and headed for the supply closet. This place wasn’t going to clean itself.
Her footsteps fell heavy down the hall until a cold breeze raise the hairs at the back of her neck. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
It was stupid. Sure, she couldn’t help but feel violated and pissed off and she wasn’t going to feel like being here alone in the café after dark for a good long while. Only it wasn’t dark right now. The sun was streaming in through the front windows and the streets outside were filled with people.
It shouldn’t feel like three in the morning at the back of a dark alley surrounded by shadows. She shouldn’t feel like she was about to get jumped, but she also wasn’t stupid enough to ignore her instincts. Joana pulled the pepper spray from her jacket pocket.
She hugged herself, rubbing her hand over her arm to return the stolen warmth. As she stood frozen in the hall, she picked up on what was off, or at least one of the many things that were.
The door to the woman’s bathroom was closed. She always left it opened.
Her hand hovered over the door, lost somewhere between wanting to knock and wanting to silently fling it open to prove to herself that nothing was there. She took the middle ground and slowly opened the door, gripping her pepper spray.
Snaking her hand in just far enough, she caught the light switch and flicked it on then stumbled backwards so fast that she only barely managed to catch herself against the wall.
It had just been a flicker at the corner of her eye, something so quick that the rational part of her brain was sure she hadn’t actually seen it. But the thundering of her heart said she had, and it left her feeling all the colder inside.
She was actually relieved when she saw a man. Not whatever bone chilling creepy-ass horror her imagination had thought she’d seen, but just a regular guy sitting on the floor.
When shock gave way, her brain caught up and relief went out the window. There was a guy in her café’s bathroom, legs sprawled out beside the toilet like he owned the place.
Oh yeah, and he was buck naked.
If he had been some shriveled up old fart she might have been able to look away a lot faster, but this guy didn’t even look real. He was sculpted, lean muscles like one of those movie stars who spent months getting pumped up for a thirty second shirtless scene.
She might’ve remained there with shock holding her in place, if the guy hadn’t spoken and sparked fury inside her.
“You stay the hell away from me, bitch,” he said.
His voice was a low rumble, the words a clear threat. Joana didn’t take kindly to threats.
At that point she should have hightailed it and run from the store, but damn it, this was her café and she wasn’t going to be the one running from it.
Joana tightened the grip on her pepper spray and pointed it towards the man’s face.
“You listen to me, moron,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’ve put everything I got into this café. If you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna march that hot, little naked ass right out the door.”
The goal had been to sound tough as nails. She’d made an art form out of emotional repression and had the whole grin-and-bear-it tactic down to a science. But the voice in the back of her mind was still screaming to run, scraping her nerves ragged. She was afraid her voice was as unsteady as her hands.
“What?” the man asked.
He sounded genuinely confused and it was then that the blur of adrenaline eased enough that she could really focus her eyes on him.
There was something off in the way he held his body. It wasn’t casual like she’d first thought. Instead, it looked like his legs were lying haphazardly only because he lacked the energy to do anything else with them. His breathing was labored and something was wrong about the way he held his hands looped over the bathroom’s handicap bar.
There was blood trickling down his body. It was smeared over the floor.
When she gasped, the man drew his eyes open. She’d been too focused on the whole naked thing to realize they’d been closed. The eyes beneath his heavy lids were nearly as green as hers, but were dark with pain.
She was beginning to wonder if his head was only upright only because he had the wall to hold it up. His hands, likewise, weren’t held over his head because he was gripping the bar. His wrists were bound together restraining him to it.
The dark marks on his body weren’t the shadows she’d initially taken them for, but forming bruises bigger than she’d ever seen on a person. Rising welts crisscrossed his torso. When she titled her head, she could see that the gashes on his back were the source of most of the blood he sat in.
Joana looked around uneasily. She didn’t see anyone, but the man looked like he was expecting an attack. Of course, he also looked like he’d just been run over by a truck after being attacked by a cougar. She’d be a little jumpy too.
It didn’t matter who else was here. She couldn’t just leave somebody like this. Nerves took a backseat as she strode forward and crouched beside the man, ignoring the blood that stained the soft fabric of her dress.
His jaw flexed like he wanted to speak, but it was too much effort to open his mouth. Up close, he looked even worse than she’d thought.
“Hey, buddy,” she said gently. “Who did this to you?”
“My brother...” He shifted his position, his voice trailing off as he winced, swallowing down a groan.
“Wow. And here I thought my family had issues.”
The man screwed his eyes closed and bit his lip before he again looked vaguely in her direction. “No,” he rasped. “I need my brother.”
There was a quiet desperation to his words and a need so heavy that it pulled at Joana’s heart even more than just seeing the guy like this.
“Okay, we’ll find him, but first, we need to get you to a hospital.” She replaced the pepper spray in her hand with a cell phone and glanced back to him as she flipped it open. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He grimaced, turning his head away. “No hospitals. Just untie me so I can save your ass.”
“So you can save my ass?” Despite the fear for herself and the man, who looked half dead on the floor, Joana snorted. “I guess you hit your head there too. How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Bite me.”
“I’d love to, gorgeous, but I think you’ve had enough of that for one day. Besides, I usually make guys buy me a drink before I tie them up.”
He tugged weakly at the restraints and Joana set aside her phone. There was no way the guy was getting out of a visit to the hospital, but she got him not wanting anyone else to see him like this.
It wasn’t until she touched his wrists that she realized he was bound up with an electrical cord and it wasn’t loosely looped around him.
“Damn. How did they even get this so tight?” she asked beneath her breath.
She couldn’t even work her fingers into any of the loops. His hands had to be numb, probably ready to fall off depending on how long he’d been here.
“There’s a knife in my pants,” he said.
Joana jumped slightly at the sound of his voice before looking over her shoulder for a pile of clothing. Nothing was there. The only thing that didn’t belong in the bathroom was the guy tied to the wall. She looked back to the man and quirked a brow.
“Great,” she said. “Nice pickup line. So where are your pants, Rambo?”
He dropped his head back against the wall and hissed, “Bitch.”
“Hey! I’m not the one that got myself tied up. When people say get a room, they mean get your own. I’m calling the police and getting you an ambulance before you die in my café.”
She grabbed her phone and was halfway to her feet before he spoke again. “Not you,” he said, frustration lacing his tone, though this time she could tell it wasn’t directed towards her. “Just hold on a minute.”
The urgency in his voice stopped her thumb from pressing down on the call button of the phone.
“What?” Joana asked. “You want me to let you die?”
“No cops, okay? No anyone...just listen to me.”
“There aren’t words for how much I don’t need this right now,” Joana groaned. “You’re some serial killer aren’t you? You probably have the whole freaking FBI looking for you and here you are bleeding to death in my bathroom. I knew I should’ve just stayed in bed this morning.”
“It’s not like that. It’s just...” He raised his brows as his eyes found hers. “This is gonna sound crazy.”
“And up to his point, it’s all been so very normal. You’re like the fifth guy I’ve found tied up in my bathroom today.”
A shiver shook through the man and Joana shrugged out of her khaki, army-style jacket. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t exactly keep extra men’s clothes and blankets lying around here. She laid it over his lower torso.
“I’m Dean, by the way,” he said. “I usually do this in reverse order.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. I’m Joana, now are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”
“You’re the new owner, right?” Dean asked. “Got a hell of a deal on the place I bet.”
“Uh huh...so what? I outbid you, so you came here to screw up my grand opening?”
“Look, I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” Somehow he seemed to have more energy than he had earlier and this time gave a firmer jerk at the restraints. “Just untie me first.”
“They’re too tight.” Joana leaned over him to give it one more shot before stepping back again with a shake of her head. “I need to go get something to cut it with.”
“Yeah, you do that. Just hurry.”
She should have thought twice about the edge of urgency in his voice. She should also be calling the police, but there was something weird about this guy. Not just weird as in he had a funny idea of extra curricular activities, but weird, as in she trusted him.
Trust wasn’t something she just threw around and he seemed like a man with a hundred and one secrets. She knew he could be nuttier than a fruitcake, but there was a level of sincerity in him that she’d never seen before. Somehow, she believed he wouldn’t hurt her and that he believed whatever it was he was trying to say.
She was coming out of the storage room with cutters in hand when the bathroom door slammed, the hollow sound echoing down the hall. It wasn’t the first time doors had closed on their own around here. There must be a wicked draft coming from somewhere. She just hadn’t figured out where yet.
Something again tickled the back of her neck and shivered a chill down her spine. She picked up her steps to a jog as she hurried back down the hallway.
The bathroom’s doorknob felt colder than it should when she gripped it. The man’s name was almost on her lips when she heard ragged breathing. She pressed her ear closer to the door as someone inside spoke.
“Maybe not,” someone said. Someone who wasn’t Dean just talking to himself. This was very clearly a woman’s voice though there was a hollow ting to it. “But I can make each and every one of you feel it, just like I did.”
Joana didn’t understand what was being said, but the intent to hurt was loud and clear. She didn’t hesitate any longer.
The doorknob turned easily, but the door didn’t budge. She had to slam her shoulder twice into the hard wood before the resistance gave way and the door swung open, slamming against the wall.
Dean was where she had left him, still bound by the unnaturally tight restraints, but he wasn’t alone.
There was a woman as naked as him, her skin pale to the point that she was nearly grey. She was settled with her legs looped over Dean’s thighs, her mouth locked over his so tightly Dean was left struggling for air. One of her hands gripped Dean’s chest over his heart while the other clawed over his chest, drawing trails of blood in their wake.
“Hey! Get off him!”
The thing - and it was a thing, face mutilated and life gone from it - turned towards her, hissing, before flickering from sight.
Joana’s legs felt unsteady and her head swam. It was what she had seen in her peripheral vision the first time she’d opened the bathroom door, but this time it had remained in view too long for her to deny it.
Even once it was gone, Joana couldn’t move. It took a pained noise from the man on the floor to pull her back. He was slack against the restraints with fresh blood winding down his side. She scanned the room for any further sign of the thing before rushing to his side.
“Please tell me I have a gas leak,” she said as she fumbled with the wire cutters in her hands.
It was almost annoying how not freaked out he seemed. He looked like he was hurt, on edge, but not surprised - not afraid. It was like this was his version of a sucky day, not like reality had just fallen out from beneath him.
Maybe he was just in shock, but she had a feeling he knew what was going on. It was a truth that she hadn’t been ready to hear two minutes ago, but was ready for now. He searched her eyes, before letting his head again fall to the side.
“No,” Dean mumbled. “Cheaper fix, but way bigger pain in the ass.”
Joana had to try a few times to get an angle with the cutters that she didn’t think would pinch Dean’s skin. The moment the wire was cut, Dean slumped against the wall, arms collapsing limply to the floor beside him. The angry red lines imbedded in his wrist said those cords had been holding him for far longer than she wanted to consider.
He flexed his fingers, obviously in a hurry to get going, but the movements of his arms were jerky and uncooperative. Without waiting for his body to come around, he tried to force his feet beneath him as his numb hands grappled for support from the bar he’d been restrained to.
Joana was on her feet before she realized it. Her arm slipped awkwardly around his torso. It wasn’t that he was naked - that had slipped so far from her radar that she didn’t even think about it. It was that without clothing to cover his skin, she could see that there was nowhere she could grab him that wasn’t going to hurt him.
She couldn’t just steady him either. At five feet and six inches she wasn’t small by female standards and she had a decent amount of heft to her. But even though this guy had looked slender on the ground, he was solid muscle and made her feel small as she securely wrapped her arm around his midsection.
“You know, there are easier ways to get a date,” Joana said.
Dean grunted, looping his arm over her shoulder like this was a familiar position for him. “Plenty harder ones, too. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.”
Joana laughed, not that she believed it for one second. This was the hottest guy she’d ever met, and she wasn’t one to settle, she’d been with a lot of guys. There was no way she believed this one struggled to find a date. Not unless this was all as normal for him as his calmness suggested.
“That thing...” She couldn’t bring herself to ask what it had been, especially since she was pretty sure she knew but didn’t want the confirmation. “What was it doing to you?”
Dean again clenched his jaw. “She should’ve bought me a drink first. Come on, I gotta get to the basement and you gotta grab some salt.”
There was a command to his voice that usually would have pissed her off, but right now it was a comfort for her frazzled mind to be given a direction - even if that direction was to gather condiments.
It wasn’t until she tried to lead him to the back counter that she realized he was intent on going the other way alone.
“What are you doing?” Joana asked. “You can’t walk.”
“Like hell I can’t,” Dean replied. “Just ‘cause some undead bitch got frisky doesn’t mean my legs stopped working. I’m just a little tired is all.”
“Right, and I’m just a little Portuguese,” she replied, letting the full thickness of her accent speak to the contrary. “I don’t know what you want down there, but those basement stairs are steep and I’m not gonna have you breaking your neck right after I saved your ass.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully before giving a half-hearted shrug. “I should probably keep you in sight.” Dean looked down as if he was missing something, but the lack of clothing didn’t seem to be the concerned. “You got a lighter?”
Joana narrowed her eyes. There was some kind of freaky ghost thing ripping this guy up and he wanted a smoke. On second thought, she really couldn’t blame him. She’d sworn she’d never light up again and a whole carton of cigarettes weren’t sounding bad now.
“I haven’t smoked for six months,” she replied.
“Congratulations,” Dean said, though the words seeped with an impatient sarcasm. As much as he was putting on a brave face, she was starting to see through the cracks. “You know who counts how long it’s been since their last cigarette? People who’ve been smoking for a long time.”
Joana repositioned her grip on him as she felt him slipping. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying to sneak off or if he was just having that much trouble standing. “Yeah...I quit after fifteen years. Maybe I don’t like the temptation around. Or maybe I just don’t want the half unconscious guy with the invisible friend setting my new café on fire.”
“Miss Touchy-Feely isn’t gonna be put off by you for long. Unless you never want another male customer, I think you should get me that lighter so I can burn the remains.”
“Burn the remains of what?” The question left Joana’s lips before her mind caught up with her. “Never mind, I don’t even want to know. Just know that you’re paying for this mess.”
She wasn’t serious, but she didn’t mind if he thought she was because the more they talked, the more the look of pain subsided from his pinched features. Despite the fact that blood still oozed down his back, her arm was wet with it, he seemed to have forgotten about it. It was like someone had flipped a switch and his only concern had become whatever weirdo mission he was on.
While she didn’t like the idea of giving a probably insane stranger fire to play with, there was still something in his eyes that made her trust him even though she had every reason in the world not to. She also didn’t have a lot of other choices.
“Fine. You just wait here,” she said as she helped prop him up against the counter. “It’s in my jacket. I’ll go get it.”
“Make it fast.”
As soon as she walked away, he started reading labels. Apparently the whole salt thing wasn’t just busy work. He was raiding the cupboard before she turned her back.
She rushed down the hallway even as everything in her screamed to stay as far away from that bathroom as she could get. The image of that thing was seared into her mind. A frigid chill washed over her just thinking about it.
After a deep breath, Joana darted into the bathroom and snatched her jacket from the floor where the thing must have flung it from Dean. She backed out of the room and slammed the door behind her for good measure.
“Everything okay?” Dean called from down the hall.
Joana rolled her eyes, hurrying back to him. “Oh yeah, I’m having a great day.”
He was still draped over the counter, but he had one hand on an open salt container while the other was holding her phone.
“Yeah, seriously Sammy, I’m fine,” he said into the phone. “I’m wondering about your head since you let a damn spook talk you into driving hundred miles in the wrong direction, but I’m fine.”
Joana stepped closer. “Is that your brother?”
Dean gave her a questioning look, leaning so heavily on the counter she was sure he’d be on the floor without it.
Joana held out her hand for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
“Uh...no.”
The guy glared at her as she reached for the phone anyway, pulling it out of her reach. He obviously already knew what she wanted to say to the person on the other end. She stomped around the front of the counter where he couldn’t maneuver away and swiped the phone from him.
“Hey!” Dean protested
Joana ignored him, speaking into the phone and stepping away from the counter where Dean wouldn’t be able to follow her. “Sammy? Are you this guy’s brother?”
“It’s Sam, and yeah…who’s this?”
“I’m the girl who found your brother tied up in my bathroom with this succubus-like disappearing woman tearing into him. He is seriously not okay.”
There was silence on the other end where all she heard was the rumbling of an engine loud enough that she could make out the sound of the car speeding up.
“I guessed that. I’m getting there as fast as I can.” There was an uneasy sigh on the other end of the phone. When the other man spoke again, his voice was heavy with concern. “How bad is he?”
“He’s covered in blood and can’t stand on his own. I’d say it’s pretty damn bad.”
Joana nearly leapt from her own skin as the phone was pulled from her hands. She spun around to see Dean standing behind her. He looked ready to drop and only barely made it back to the counter on his own, but somehow the guy had actually walked, which was insane given that she didn’t even know how he was still conscious.
“She’s completely exaggerating.” Dean leaned forward over the counter and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got it. Sam...no. I know what this bitch does. I’m the one she was snacking on. Whatever. It’s gonna be taken care of by the time you get here anyway. Shut up.” It was obvious by the ease of Dean’s tone just how close these two were. “Yeah, you too.”
Dean snapped closed the phone. “Now let’s go fry us up some little fuzzy animals.”
There wasn’t enough sarcasm in the words to put her at ease. If this guy turned out to be some Satan-worshipping cult leader she was catching the first plane back to Portugal.
“Do I want to know?” she asked.
“Have you seen that box of animal figurines you got in the basement?”
She brushed back a few locks of red hair that had slipped from behind her ear. Her head was going to explode. There was no way around it.
“Yeah...I guess. The little rabbit fur kittens? You want them? You can have them. They creep me out and they’re not mine.”
Dean pushed up from the counter. “They’re also not all rabbit fur.”
“So what? PETA sent you?” She watched his face for a moment longer, following his eyes to her fingers where they still nervously twirled in her hair. “Oh...” She dropped her hand to her side. “Gross.”
He stepped away from the counter with enough confidence that she almost believed he was steady on his feet. The next moment, she had to rush in to catch him as his steps faltered, though he seemed more worried about spilling the salt than catching himself.
“I’m good,” he said.
The statement would have been a lot more convincing if it hadn’t sounded more like a groan than words. She again wrapped her arm around him. He needed it enough that he didn’t protest and he let her carry the salt jar. Why he wanted to lug around salt was the least of her questions right now.
“You told your brother you know what this thing is,” Joana said. “How about filling me in?”
“How do you know what a succubus is?” he asked.
“I do own a television.” Her stomach twisted as she led him down the hall towards the basement steps. “Is that what this is?”
“Nah.” The arm he had wrapped around her shoulder tightened while his other hand gripped the railing of the stairs. “More like a vengeful spirit on steroids.”
“Oh, is that all?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “She doesn’t seem to like you much.”
“Story of my life. She took it kind of personally when I tried to light her up, but it’s also just men in general.” Dean went quiet as they neared the bottom step. He pulled his arm from around her shoulder and held his hand out. “Give me your lighter.”
The moment she took her hand from his shoulder, he was flung forward. Something had shoved him hard from behind. He somehow managed to roll down the last of the steps before hitting the ground.
By the time Joana turned her head there was only a flash of faded grey light. She rushed down the steps towards Dean, not making it before the horrific excuse for a woman reappeared beside him.
Despite his condition, Dean sprung to his feet like some superhero without his leotard. He stumbled to the side to put himself between the spirit and Joana, when he should be getting behind her. The thing was after him, but he was obviously way too practiced at pulling macho crap.
She could only stare as he turned around and shoved his hand into the salt jar. His stance was firm and expression set in determination. Dean barely flinched as the spirit surged forward. He flung the salt at the thing and it instantly vanished.
Joana was so ready to wake up now.
Dean spun back towards her, putting a hand on her arm to draw her attention. “Joana, you with me?”
Her eyes darted from where the spirit had been to meet his eyes, which had a starling intensity and commanded her full attention. She managed a nod.
“Good,” he replied. “You see her again, you salt her. Got it? I need to get to that box over there and I can’t wait for Sam. You gotta cover me, okay?”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. This was certifiably insane.
“Would she follow us out to the street?” Joana asked.
For the first time, Dean looked confused. “What? No…but she managed to drag me up into the bathroom. She’ll find a way to hide those creepy ass kittens.”
“So?”
Dean stared at her like the answer was obvious. “So I gotta stop her before she does so no one else gets hurt.”
“What are you? The ghost police?” Joana asked. “How is this even your problem?”
Something in his expression shifted, like a light bulb going off, and his expression softened. “Hey, it’s okay. You get out of here. I got this.”
He tried to snag the salt from her, but she twisted it out of his reach. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I don’t know why you’re so gung-ho to save my café, but it’s my café and she can’t have it.”
“Okay then,” Dean said. “Just man the salt jar and we’ll be fine.”
Instead of attending to opening day festivities on what was going to be one of the biggest days of her life - now officially the biggest - she was arming herself with salt to heave at an angry spirit. Meanwhile, Mister Universe was streaking around her basement in search of furry animal figurines. Yet, there had been enough comfort in his eyes that she still believed him. Somehow, this was going to be okay.
The spirit waited until Dean left Joana’s side to materialize again. It wasn’t until it was her turn to throw the salt that Joana realized how fast Dean’s reflexes were. She’d barely gotten over the shock of the thing reappearing, barely raised her arm, before it raked its nails over Dean’s already torn up back.
She grimaced, pain clutching her own heart as Dean bit back a cry and staggered. The spirit was gone a moment later as Joana’s body caught up with her mind and she threw the salt. She didn’t hesitate to grab more, this time, raising her fist preemptively and keeping on guard for the next shot.
“Sorry.” The word tumbled from her mouth as her eyes locked on the freshest blood flow.
“You’re doing fine.” Dean grabbed the box, half-kneeling, half-falling to the dirty cement. His shoulders were hunched and his breath hitched. “Just stay back.”
“No,” she replied, closing the distance between them. “It won’t go for you if I’m next to you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m about to really piss it off and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
Joana rolled her eyes as Dean shook out the box, tossing it aside to leave a pile of figurines on the floor in front of him. This guy was dead wrong if he thought she expected him to take care of this himself.
“Shut up and burn those kittens already,” she said.
This time when the spirit appeared, Joana was ready for it, sending the salt flying straight through its mangled face. Dean set the lighter’s flame to the kitten figurines just long enough for them to ignite. An inhuman screech rippled through the basement right before the warmth set back in.
Dean rocked back on his knees, scrubbing a hand over his face as the carcinogenic smell of burning plastic wafted up into the stagnant air. He was battered and bloody, though what she couldn’t help but notice was the look of satisfaction on his face as he glanced up to her.
“She’s gone,” he said. His eyes drifted to the corner of the room and a smirk touched his lips. “And, hey, I found my pants. Awesome.”
He honestly didn’t look the least bit fazed by any of this, while she was too stunned to even give him privacy as he stumbled over to grab his jeans. Dean didn’t hesitate to pull them up over his bloody skin and it wasn’t until he went to slip on his shirt that Joana came back to her senses enough to stop him.
“If I can’t make you go to hospital, fine, but I am not going to have that brother of yours show up here and see that I didn’t take care of you.”
“Not your job,” Dean replied dismissively.
She put out her hand to stop him as he again tried to tug the t-shirt over his clawed-up back. “So you swept in here to stop this ‘vengeful spirit’ that you knew hated men, knew could kill you and you don’t think I owe you a thing?”
Dean stood there holding the shirt at his side, wringing it in his hands as he stared at her. He rubbed the back of his neck. A flash of genuine confusion came to his face before he shrugged.
“Yeah, that’s how it works.”
“This is seriously normal for you? Risking your life to save random strangers then limping off to lick your own wounds?” The expression on his face was answer enough. “Well, no offense, but that’s stupid. You saved my café, hell you probably saved me...or at least every future boyfriend I would’ve dragged in here before they ran off screaming like a little girl. You’re going to let me patch you up and you’re going to let me make you some coffee because coffee makes everything better.”
“That’s pie, but I could use some coffee, anyway,” Dean said as he snatched up a flannel shirt and looped it over his arm with the t-shirt.
Joana could recognize a fellow master of suppression when she saw one and let it drop. She instead focused on getting him up the stairs. With her support, he managed to make his way up even though she didn’t know how he had the energy left to lift his own feet.
Dean leaned against the wall as she grabbed one of the fallen chairs and set it up out of view of the windows. Once it was upright, he plopped down onto it.
“Were you and that thing the ones that trashed this place?” Joana asked.
Dean gave another shrug, seeming to regret the sharp movement of his shoulders. “If I say yes, am I gonna lose my coffee privileges?”
Joana shook her head as she grabbed a clean washrag and wetted it in the sink. “Pretty much the exact opposite.”
Her eyes lingered on the broken table. She didn’t want to think how hard a body would have had to hit it to make it splinter like that. Her gaze then wandered over to one of the darkening bruises on Dean’s torso, so large that it discolored most of his left side.
“Is anything broken?” she asked.
Dean’s eyes followed hers to the injury before looking back at the wall, apparently unconcerned. “Nah, just bruised.”
She could tell that it was really hurting him and, she was no doctor, but she was sure a normal person couldn’t just sit there and tell the difference between bruised or cracked ribs. But watching his disregard for the situation, she got the impression that this man, who looked even younger than her thirty-two years, had during those years been thrown into enough tables, and tossed down enough stairs to easily know the difference.
And he didn’t even care. Worse, he didn’t seem to think anyone else should either.
Gently she pressed the moistened cloth to the drying blood smeared over his back. Wiping it away only revealed more bruises and hinted at old scars disguised beneath the newest cuts. It was now easy to see why he didn’t think he needed medical attention. The little that remained of older injuries said that to him, today had been just walk in the park.
“Look,” she says she pulled out the first aid kit. “I don’t know who you are or why you do whatever it is you do and I know you’re not going to tell me, but I hope you know you’re a hero.”
The expression on his face tightened, his eyes searching the distance as if the conversation was making him uncomfortable. She didn’t get a chance to push him further before the bell on the front door chimed, the door clanging behind it.
Joana spun on her heels, ready to tell someone off, but from the corner of her eyes she saw the tension in Dean’s body immediately ease. There was no need to ask who the new man was.
“Dean!” Sam called out as he sprinted towards them.
He was even younger and taller than Dean. Like crazy-ass giraffe tall with long, shaggy bangs that he brushed away when he stopped at Dean’s side. It was as if he didn’t see Joana as he bent over Dean, hands instantly on his brother.
“Dean, are you okay?”
“Super,” Dean deadpanned.
Sam was obviously used to getting crap answers from Dean. The urgency remained in his eyes as he examined his brother, grabbing Dean’s chin to make him look at him. Dean halfheartedly swatted at him, but Sam ignored it, jumping right in to take over with the first aid kit.
“Chill out, Sammy,” Dean grumbled. “It’s nothing a couple of beers...or a really big bottle of whiskey won’t fix. And you’re not gonna go wrapping me up like the mummy again.”
“We’ll see.”
At first glance, she wondered if ‘brother’ was a euphemism. They moved so in tandem with each other and with such closeness that they clearly only had eyes for each other. It almost felt voyeuristic watching their reunion.
But it only took watching a moment longer to see that even though they looked different in so many ways, in other ways they were practically identical twins - right down to their flannel shirts. It would be really cute if she wasn’t stuck on how familiar this ritual between them seemed. Sam taped over Dean’s wounds with the same mindless ease that Joana would brew up a cup of coffee.
Sam glanced over at her. It was hard to miss the fact that he looked nothing like Dean, but was every bit as handsome in his own way. He also carried that same, deep sincerity in his eyes.
“Thanks for watching out for him,” Sam said.
“What?” Dean asked indignantly. “Like I need a babysitter.”
“Well, obviously you do. I mean, come on, Dean. What were you thinking...”
Definitely brothers.
Joana laughed to herself, listening to their casual argument continue while she filled up three of the only unbroken coffee mugs. Their dispute carried more love and concern than most families ever knew.
They were the kind of people who it was a privilege just to meet. She wished they didn’t have to do what they did, but knowing they were out there doing it softened the blow of discovering what else was out there.
Summary: When a café owner finds a bloody man tied up naked in her bathroom, she assumes it's going to be the strangest part of her day, but it's only the beginning.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Vaguely implied non-consenting activities by a vengeful spirit. Mostly just general pain and torment onto Dean.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 6,577
Author’s Note: Mid-Season 2 outsider POV. Birthday fic for the wonderful 888mph - happy belated birthday, darling! Countless thanks to yasminke for saving me with her absolutely awesome beta work.
~~~
It wasn’t like Joana had been delusional enough to think that the grand opening would go without a hitch. But there was a hitch, and then there was some jackass breaking into her refurbished café and smashing half her newly purchased décor to bits.
The toe of her biker boot nudged at shattered bits of ceramic. Someone had gone to town heaving her new coffee mugs all over the place. Then they’d set in on the furniture, which was knocked over and shoved against walls. A couple of the chairs and one of the tables had been splintered to pieces. Behind the table, the formerly pristinely white cabinets were smeared with something dark red that she didn’t even want to think about.
So much for this being a nice neighborhood. No wonder the old owner had sold her this place so cheap right before he’d ran out of here like his hair was on fire. The jerks who had done this better hope the police found them before she did.
With an agitated sigh, she straightened her dress and headed for the supply closet. This place wasn’t going to clean itself.
Her footsteps fell heavy down the hall until a cold breeze raise the hairs at the back of her neck. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
It was stupid. Sure, she couldn’t help but feel violated and pissed off and she wasn’t going to feel like being here alone in the café after dark for a good long while. Only it wasn’t dark right now. The sun was streaming in through the front windows and the streets outside were filled with people.
It shouldn’t feel like three in the morning at the back of a dark alley surrounded by shadows. She shouldn’t feel like she was about to get jumped, but she also wasn’t stupid enough to ignore her instincts. Joana pulled the pepper spray from her jacket pocket.
She hugged herself, rubbing her hand over her arm to return the stolen warmth. As she stood frozen in the hall, she picked up on what was off, or at least one of the many things that were.
The door to the woman’s bathroom was closed. She always left it opened.
Her hand hovered over the door, lost somewhere between wanting to knock and wanting to silently fling it open to prove to herself that nothing was there. She took the middle ground and slowly opened the door, gripping her pepper spray.
Snaking her hand in just far enough, she caught the light switch and flicked it on then stumbled backwards so fast that she only barely managed to catch herself against the wall.
It had just been a flicker at the corner of her eye, something so quick that the rational part of her brain was sure she hadn’t actually seen it. But the thundering of her heart said she had, and it left her feeling all the colder inside.
She was actually relieved when she saw a man. Not whatever bone chilling creepy-ass horror her imagination had thought she’d seen, but just a regular guy sitting on the floor.
When shock gave way, her brain caught up and relief went out the window. There was a guy in her café’s bathroom, legs sprawled out beside the toilet like he owned the place.
Oh yeah, and he was buck naked.
If he had been some shriveled up old fart she might have been able to look away a lot faster, but this guy didn’t even look real. He was sculpted, lean muscles like one of those movie stars who spent months getting pumped up for a thirty second shirtless scene.
She might’ve remained there with shock holding her in place, if the guy hadn’t spoken and sparked fury inside her.
“You stay the hell away from me, bitch,” he said.
His voice was a low rumble, the words a clear threat. Joana didn’t take kindly to threats.
At that point she should have hightailed it and run from the store, but damn it, this was her café and she wasn’t going to be the one running from it.
Joana tightened the grip on her pepper spray and pointed it towards the man’s face.
“You listen to me, moron,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’ve put everything I got into this café. If you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna march that hot, little naked ass right out the door.”
The goal had been to sound tough as nails. She’d made an art form out of emotional repression and had the whole grin-and-bear-it tactic down to a science. But the voice in the back of her mind was still screaming to run, scraping her nerves ragged. She was afraid her voice was as unsteady as her hands.
“What?” the man asked.
He sounded genuinely confused and it was then that the blur of adrenaline eased enough that she could really focus her eyes on him.
There was something off in the way he held his body. It wasn’t casual like she’d first thought. Instead, it looked like his legs were lying haphazardly only because he lacked the energy to do anything else with them. His breathing was labored and something was wrong about the way he held his hands looped over the bathroom’s handicap bar.
There was blood trickling down his body. It was smeared over the floor.
When she gasped, the man drew his eyes open. She’d been too focused on the whole naked thing to realize they’d been closed. The eyes beneath his heavy lids were nearly as green as hers, but were dark with pain.
She was beginning to wonder if his head was only upright only because he had the wall to hold it up. His hands, likewise, weren’t held over his head because he was gripping the bar. His wrists were bound together restraining him to it.
The dark marks on his body weren’t the shadows she’d initially taken them for, but forming bruises bigger than she’d ever seen on a person. Rising welts crisscrossed his torso. When she titled her head, she could see that the gashes on his back were the source of most of the blood he sat in.
Joana looked around uneasily. She didn’t see anyone, but the man looked like he was expecting an attack. Of course, he also looked like he’d just been run over by a truck after being attacked by a cougar. She’d be a little jumpy too.
It didn’t matter who else was here. She couldn’t just leave somebody like this. Nerves took a backseat as she strode forward and crouched beside the man, ignoring the blood that stained the soft fabric of her dress.
His jaw flexed like he wanted to speak, but it was too much effort to open his mouth. Up close, he looked even worse than she’d thought.
“Hey, buddy,” she said gently. “Who did this to you?”
“My brother...” He shifted his position, his voice trailing off as he winced, swallowing down a groan.
“Wow. And here I thought my family had issues.”
The man screwed his eyes closed and bit his lip before he again looked vaguely in her direction. “No,” he rasped. “I need my brother.”
There was a quiet desperation to his words and a need so heavy that it pulled at Joana’s heart even more than just seeing the guy like this.
“Okay, we’ll find him, but first, we need to get you to a hospital.” She replaced the pepper spray in her hand with a cell phone and glanced back to him as she flipped it open. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He grimaced, turning his head away. “No hospitals. Just untie me so I can save your ass.”
“So you can save my ass?” Despite the fear for herself and the man, who looked half dead on the floor, Joana snorted. “I guess you hit your head there too. How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Bite me.”
“I’d love to, gorgeous, but I think you’ve had enough of that for one day. Besides, I usually make guys buy me a drink before I tie them up.”
He tugged weakly at the restraints and Joana set aside her phone. There was no way the guy was getting out of a visit to the hospital, but she got him not wanting anyone else to see him like this.
It wasn’t until she touched his wrists that she realized he was bound up with an electrical cord and it wasn’t loosely looped around him.
“Damn. How did they even get this so tight?” she asked beneath her breath.
She couldn’t even work her fingers into any of the loops. His hands had to be numb, probably ready to fall off depending on how long he’d been here.
“There’s a knife in my pants,” he said.
Joana jumped slightly at the sound of his voice before looking over her shoulder for a pile of clothing. Nothing was there. The only thing that didn’t belong in the bathroom was the guy tied to the wall. She looked back to the man and quirked a brow.
“Great,” she said. “Nice pickup line. So where are your pants, Rambo?”
He dropped his head back against the wall and hissed, “Bitch.”
“Hey! I’m not the one that got myself tied up. When people say get a room, they mean get your own. I’m calling the police and getting you an ambulance before you die in my café.”
She grabbed her phone and was halfway to her feet before he spoke again. “Not you,” he said, frustration lacing his tone, though this time she could tell it wasn’t directed towards her. “Just hold on a minute.”
The urgency in his voice stopped her thumb from pressing down on the call button of the phone.
“What?” Joana asked. “You want me to let you die?”
“No cops, okay? No anyone...just listen to me.”
“There aren’t words for how much I don’t need this right now,” Joana groaned. “You’re some serial killer aren’t you? You probably have the whole freaking FBI looking for you and here you are bleeding to death in my bathroom. I knew I should’ve just stayed in bed this morning.”
“It’s not like that. It’s just...” He raised his brows as his eyes found hers. “This is gonna sound crazy.”
“And up to his point, it’s all been so very normal. You’re like the fifth guy I’ve found tied up in my bathroom today.”
A shiver shook through the man and Joana shrugged out of her khaki, army-style jacket. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t exactly keep extra men’s clothes and blankets lying around here. She laid it over his lower torso.
“I’m Dean, by the way,” he said. “I usually do this in reverse order.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. I’m Joana, now are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”
“You’re the new owner, right?” Dean asked. “Got a hell of a deal on the place I bet.”
“Uh huh...so what? I outbid you, so you came here to screw up my grand opening?”
“Look, I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” Somehow he seemed to have more energy than he had earlier and this time gave a firmer jerk at the restraints. “Just untie me first.”
“They’re too tight.” Joana leaned over him to give it one more shot before stepping back again with a shake of her head. “I need to go get something to cut it with.”
“Yeah, you do that. Just hurry.”
She should have thought twice about the edge of urgency in his voice. She should also be calling the police, but there was something weird about this guy. Not just weird as in he had a funny idea of extra curricular activities, but weird, as in she trusted him.
Trust wasn’t something she just threw around and he seemed like a man with a hundred and one secrets. She knew he could be nuttier than a fruitcake, but there was a level of sincerity in him that she’d never seen before. Somehow, she believed he wouldn’t hurt her and that he believed whatever it was he was trying to say.
She was coming out of the storage room with cutters in hand when the bathroom door slammed, the hollow sound echoing down the hall. It wasn’t the first time doors had closed on their own around here. There must be a wicked draft coming from somewhere. She just hadn’t figured out where yet.
Something again tickled the back of her neck and shivered a chill down her spine. She picked up her steps to a jog as she hurried back down the hallway.
The bathroom’s doorknob felt colder than it should when she gripped it. The man’s name was almost on her lips when she heard ragged breathing. She pressed her ear closer to the door as someone inside spoke.
“Maybe not,” someone said. Someone who wasn’t Dean just talking to himself. This was very clearly a woman’s voice though there was a hollow ting to it. “But I can make each and every one of you feel it, just like I did.”
Joana didn’t understand what was being said, but the intent to hurt was loud and clear. She didn’t hesitate any longer.
The doorknob turned easily, but the door didn’t budge. She had to slam her shoulder twice into the hard wood before the resistance gave way and the door swung open, slamming against the wall.
Dean was where she had left him, still bound by the unnaturally tight restraints, but he wasn’t alone.
There was a woman as naked as him, her skin pale to the point that she was nearly grey. She was settled with her legs looped over Dean’s thighs, her mouth locked over his so tightly Dean was left struggling for air. One of her hands gripped Dean’s chest over his heart while the other clawed over his chest, drawing trails of blood in their wake.
“Hey! Get off him!”
The thing - and it was a thing, face mutilated and life gone from it - turned towards her, hissing, before flickering from sight.
Joana’s legs felt unsteady and her head swam. It was what she had seen in her peripheral vision the first time she’d opened the bathroom door, but this time it had remained in view too long for her to deny it.
Even once it was gone, Joana couldn’t move. It took a pained noise from the man on the floor to pull her back. He was slack against the restraints with fresh blood winding down his side. She scanned the room for any further sign of the thing before rushing to his side.
“Please tell me I have a gas leak,” she said as she fumbled with the wire cutters in her hands.
It was almost annoying how not freaked out he seemed. He looked like he was hurt, on edge, but not surprised - not afraid. It was like this was his version of a sucky day, not like reality had just fallen out from beneath him.
Maybe he was just in shock, but she had a feeling he knew what was going on. It was a truth that she hadn’t been ready to hear two minutes ago, but was ready for now. He searched her eyes, before letting his head again fall to the side.
“No,” Dean mumbled. “Cheaper fix, but way bigger pain in the ass.”
Joana had to try a few times to get an angle with the cutters that she didn’t think would pinch Dean’s skin. The moment the wire was cut, Dean slumped against the wall, arms collapsing limply to the floor beside him. The angry red lines imbedded in his wrist said those cords had been holding him for far longer than she wanted to consider.
He flexed his fingers, obviously in a hurry to get going, but the movements of his arms were jerky and uncooperative. Without waiting for his body to come around, he tried to force his feet beneath him as his numb hands grappled for support from the bar he’d been restrained to.
Joana was on her feet before she realized it. Her arm slipped awkwardly around his torso. It wasn’t that he was naked - that had slipped so far from her radar that she didn’t even think about it. It was that without clothing to cover his skin, she could see that there was nowhere she could grab him that wasn’t going to hurt him.
She couldn’t just steady him either. At five feet and six inches she wasn’t small by female standards and she had a decent amount of heft to her. But even though this guy had looked slender on the ground, he was solid muscle and made her feel small as she securely wrapped her arm around his midsection.
“You know, there are easier ways to get a date,” Joana said.
Dean grunted, looping his arm over her shoulder like this was a familiar position for him. “Plenty harder ones, too. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.”
Joana laughed, not that she believed it for one second. This was the hottest guy she’d ever met, and she wasn’t one to settle, she’d been with a lot of guys. There was no way she believed this one struggled to find a date. Not unless this was all as normal for him as his calmness suggested.
“That thing...” She couldn’t bring herself to ask what it had been, especially since she was pretty sure she knew but didn’t want the confirmation. “What was it doing to you?”
Dean again clenched his jaw. “She should’ve bought me a drink first. Come on, I gotta get to the basement and you gotta grab some salt.”
There was a command to his voice that usually would have pissed her off, but right now it was a comfort for her frazzled mind to be given a direction - even if that direction was to gather condiments.
It wasn’t until she tried to lead him to the back counter that she realized he was intent on going the other way alone.
“What are you doing?” Joana asked. “You can’t walk.”
“Like hell I can’t,” Dean replied. “Just ‘cause some undead bitch got frisky doesn’t mean my legs stopped working. I’m just a little tired is all.”
“Right, and I’m just a little Portuguese,” she replied, letting the full thickness of her accent speak to the contrary. “I don’t know what you want down there, but those basement stairs are steep and I’m not gonna have you breaking your neck right after I saved your ass.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully before giving a half-hearted shrug. “I should probably keep you in sight.” Dean looked down as if he was missing something, but the lack of clothing didn’t seem to be the concerned. “You got a lighter?”
Joana narrowed her eyes. There was some kind of freaky ghost thing ripping this guy up and he wanted a smoke. On second thought, she really couldn’t blame him. She’d sworn she’d never light up again and a whole carton of cigarettes weren’t sounding bad now.
“I haven’t smoked for six months,” she replied.
“Congratulations,” Dean said, though the words seeped with an impatient sarcasm. As much as he was putting on a brave face, she was starting to see through the cracks. “You know who counts how long it’s been since their last cigarette? People who’ve been smoking for a long time.”
Joana repositioned her grip on him as she felt him slipping. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying to sneak off or if he was just having that much trouble standing. “Yeah...I quit after fifteen years. Maybe I don’t like the temptation around. Or maybe I just don’t want the half unconscious guy with the invisible friend setting my new café on fire.”
“Miss Touchy-Feely isn’t gonna be put off by you for long. Unless you never want another male customer, I think you should get me that lighter so I can burn the remains.”
“Burn the remains of what?” The question left Joana’s lips before her mind caught up with her. “Never mind, I don’t even want to know. Just know that you’re paying for this mess.”
She wasn’t serious, but she didn’t mind if he thought she was because the more they talked, the more the look of pain subsided from his pinched features. Despite the fact that blood still oozed down his back, her arm was wet with it, he seemed to have forgotten about it. It was like someone had flipped a switch and his only concern had become whatever weirdo mission he was on.
While she didn’t like the idea of giving a probably insane stranger fire to play with, there was still something in his eyes that made her trust him even though she had every reason in the world not to. She also didn’t have a lot of other choices.
“Fine. You just wait here,” she said as she helped prop him up against the counter. “It’s in my jacket. I’ll go get it.”
“Make it fast.”
As soon as she walked away, he started reading labels. Apparently the whole salt thing wasn’t just busy work. He was raiding the cupboard before she turned her back.
She rushed down the hallway even as everything in her screamed to stay as far away from that bathroom as she could get. The image of that thing was seared into her mind. A frigid chill washed over her just thinking about it.
After a deep breath, Joana darted into the bathroom and snatched her jacket from the floor where the thing must have flung it from Dean. She backed out of the room and slammed the door behind her for good measure.
“Everything okay?” Dean called from down the hall.
Joana rolled her eyes, hurrying back to him. “Oh yeah, I’m having a great day.”
He was still draped over the counter, but he had one hand on an open salt container while the other was holding her phone.
“Yeah, seriously Sammy, I’m fine,” he said into the phone. “I’m wondering about your head since you let a damn spook talk you into driving hundred miles in the wrong direction, but I’m fine.”
Joana stepped closer. “Is that your brother?”
Dean gave her a questioning look, leaning so heavily on the counter she was sure he’d be on the floor without it.
Joana held out her hand for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
“Uh...no.”
The guy glared at her as she reached for the phone anyway, pulling it out of her reach. He obviously already knew what she wanted to say to the person on the other end. She stomped around the front of the counter where he couldn’t maneuver away and swiped the phone from him.
“Hey!” Dean protested
Joana ignored him, speaking into the phone and stepping away from the counter where Dean wouldn’t be able to follow her. “Sammy? Are you this guy’s brother?”
“It’s Sam, and yeah…who’s this?”
“I’m the girl who found your brother tied up in my bathroom with this succubus-like disappearing woman tearing into him. He is seriously not okay.”
There was silence on the other end where all she heard was the rumbling of an engine loud enough that she could make out the sound of the car speeding up.
“I guessed that. I’m getting there as fast as I can.” There was an uneasy sigh on the other end of the phone. When the other man spoke again, his voice was heavy with concern. “How bad is he?”
“He’s covered in blood and can’t stand on his own. I’d say it’s pretty damn bad.”
Joana nearly leapt from her own skin as the phone was pulled from her hands. She spun around to see Dean standing behind her. He looked ready to drop and only barely made it back to the counter on his own, but somehow the guy had actually walked, which was insane given that she didn’t even know how he was still conscious.
“She’s completely exaggerating.” Dean leaned forward over the counter and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got it. Sam...no. I know what this bitch does. I’m the one she was snacking on. Whatever. It’s gonna be taken care of by the time you get here anyway. Shut up.” It was obvious by the ease of Dean’s tone just how close these two were. “Yeah, you too.”
Dean snapped closed the phone. “Now let’s go fry us up some little fuzzy animals.”
There wasn’t enough sarcasm in the words to put her at ease. If this guy turned out to be some Satan-worshipping cult leader she was catching the first plane back to Portugal.
“Do I want to know?” she asked.
“Have you seen that box of animal figurines you got in the basement?”
She brushed back a few locks of red hair that had slipped from behind her ear. Her head was going to explode. There was no way around it.
“Yeah...I guess. The little rabbit fur kittens? You want them? You can have them. They creep me out and they’re not mine.”
Dean pushed up from the counter. “They’re also not all rabbit fur.”
“So what? PETA sent you?” She watched his face for a moment longer, following his eyes to her fingers where they still nervously twirled in her hair. “Oh...” She dropped her hand to her side. “Gross.”
He stepped away from the counter with enough confidence that she almost believed he was steady on his feet. The next moment, she had to rush in to catch him as his steps faltered, though he seemed more worried about spilling the salt than catching himself.
“I’m good,” he said.
The statement would have been a lot more convincing if it hadn’t sounded more like a groan than words. She again wrapped her arm around him. He needed it enough that he didn’t protest and he let her carry the salt jar. Why he wanted to lug around salt was the least of her questions right now.
“You told your brother you know what this thing is,” Joana said. “How about filling me in?”
“How do you know what a succubus is?” he asked.
“I do own a television.” Her stomach twisted as she led him down the hall towards the basement steps. “Is that what this is?”
“Nah.” The arm he had wrapped around her shoulder tightened while his other hand gripped the railing of the stairs. “More like a vengeful spirit on steroids.”
“Oh, is that all?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “She doesn’t seem to like you much.”
“Story of my life. She took it kind of personally when I tried to light her up, but it’s also just men in general.” Dean went quiet as they neared the bottom step. He pulled his arm from around her shoulder and held his hand out. “Give me your lighter.”
The moment she took her hand from his shoulder, he was flung forward. Something had shoved him hard from behind. He somehow managed to roll down the last of the steps before hitting the ground.
By the time Joana turned her head there was only a flash of faded grey light. She rushed down the steps towards Dean, not making it before the horrific excuse for a woman reappeared beside him.
Despite his condition, Dean sprung to his feet like some superhero without his leotard. He stumbled to the side to put himself between the spirit and Joana, when he should be getting behind her. The thing was after him, but he was obviously way too practiced at pulling macho crap.
She could only stare as he turned around and shoved his hand into the salt jar. His stance was firm and expression set in determination. Dean barely flinched as the spirit surged forward. He flung the salt at the thing and it instantly vanished.
Joana was so ready to wake up now.
Dean spun back towards her, putting a hand on her arm to draw her attention. “Joana, you with me?”
Her eyes darted from where the spirit had been to meet his eyes, which had a starling intensity and commanded her full attention. She managed a nod.
“Good,” he replied. “You see her again, you salt her. Got it? I need to get to that box over there and I can’t wait for Sam. You gotta cover me, okay?”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. This was certifiably insane.
“Would she follow us out to the street?” Joana asked.
For the first time, Dean looked confused. “What? No…but she managed to drag me up into the bathroom. She’ll find a way to hide those creepy ass kittens.”
“So?”
Dean stared at her like the answer was obvious. “So I gotta stop her before she does so no one else gets hurt.”
“What are you? The ghost police?” Joana asked. “How is this even your problem?”
Something in his expression shifted, like a light bulb going off, and his expression softened. “Hey, it’s okay. You get out of here. I got this.”
He tried to snag the salt from her, but she twisted it out of his reach. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I don’t know why you’re so gung-ho to save my café, but it’s my café and she can’t have it.”
“Okay then,” Dean said. “Just man the salt jar and we’ll be fine.”
Instead of attending to opening day festivities on what was going to be one of the biggest days of her life - now officially the biggest - she was arming herself with salt to heave at an angry spirit. Meanwhile, Mister Universe was streaking around her basement in search of furry animal figurines. Yet, there had been enough comfort in his eyes that she still believed him. Somehow, this was going to be okay.
The spirit waited until Dean left Joana’s side to materialize again. It wasn’t until it was her turn to throw the salt that Joana realized how fast Dean’s reflexes were. She’d barely gotten over the shock of the thing reappearing, barely raised her arm, before it raked its nails over Dean’s already torn up back.
She grimaced, pain clutching her own heart as Dean bit back a cry and staggered. The spirit was gone a moment later as Joana’s body caught up with her mind and she threw the salt. She didn’t hesitate to grab more, this time, raising her fist preemptively and keeping on guard for the next shot.
“Sorry.” The word tumbled from her mouth as her eyes locked on the freshest blood flow.
“You’re doing fine.” Dean grabbed the box, half-kneeling, half-falling to the dirty cement. His shoulders were hunched and his breath hitched. “Just stay back.”
“No,” she replied, closing the distance between them. “It won’t go for you if I’m next to you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m about to really piss it off and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
Joana rolled her eyes as Dean shook out the box, tossing it aside to leave a pile of figurines on the floor in front of him. This guy was dead wrong if he thought she expected him to take care of this himself.
“Shut up and burn those kittens already,” she said.
This time when the spirit appeared, Joana was ready for it, sending the salt flying straight through its mangled face. Dean set the lighter’s flame to the kitten figurines just long enough for them to ignite. An inhuman screech rippled through the basement right before the warmth set back in.
Dean rocked back on his knees, scrubbing a hand over his face as the carcinogenic smell of burning plastic wafted up into the stagnant air. He was battered and bloody, though what she couldn’t help but notice was the look of satisfaction on his face as he glanced up to her.
“She’s gone,” he said. His eyes drifted to the corner of the room and a smirk touched his lips. “And, hey, I found my pants. Awesome.”
He honestly didn’t look the least bit fazed by any of this, while she was too stunned to even give him privacy as he stumbled over to grab his jeans. Dean didn’t hesitate to pull them up over his bloody skin and it wasn’t until he went to slip on his shirt that Joana came back to her senses enough to stop him.
“If I can’t make you go to hospital, fine, but I am not going to have that brother of yours show up here and see that I didn’t take care of you.”
“Not your job,” Dean replied dismissively.
She put out her hand to stop him as he again tried to tug the t-shirt over his clawed-up back. “So you swept in here to stop this ‘vengeful spirit’ that you knew hated men, knew could kill you and you don’t think I owe you a thing?”
Dean stood there holding the shirt at his side, wringing it in his hands as he stared at her. He rubbed the back of his neck. A flash of genuine confusion came to his face before he shrugged.
“Yeah, that’s how it works.”
“This is seriously normal for you? Risking your life to save random strangers then limping off to lick your own wounds?” The expression on his face was answer enough. “Well, no offense, but that’s stupid. You saved my café, hell you probably saved me...or at least every future boyfriend I would’ve dragged in here before they ran off screaming like a little girl. You’re going to let me patch you up and you’re going to let me make you some coffee because coffee makes everything better.”
“That’s pie, but I could use some coffee, anyway,” Dean said as he snatched up a flannel shirt and looped it over his arm with the t-shirt.
Joana could recognize a fellow master of suppression when she saw one and let it drop. She instead focused on getting him up the stairs. With her support, he managed to make his way up even though she didn’t know how he had the energy left to lift his own feet.
Dean leaned against the wall as she grabbed one of the fallen chairs and set it up out of view of the windows. Once it was upright, he plopped down onto it.
“Were you and that thing the ones that trashed this place?” Joana asked.
Dean gave another shrug, seeming to regret the sharp movement of his shoulders. “If I say yes, am I gonna lose my coffee privileges?”
Joana shook her head as she grabbed a clean washrag and wetted it in the sink. “Pretty much the exact opposite.”
Her eyes lingered on the broken table. She didn’t want to think how hard a body would have had to hit it to make it splinter like that. Her gaze then wandered over to one of the darkening bruises on Dean’s torso, so large that it discolored most of his left side.
“Is anything broken?” she asked.
Dean’s eyes followed hers to the injury before looking back at the wall, apparently unconcerned. “Nah, just bruised.”
She could tell that it was really hurting him and, she was no doctor, but she was sure a normal person couldn’t just sit there and tell the difference between bruised or cracked ribs. But watching his disregard for the situation, she got the impression that this man, who looked even younger than her thirty-two years, had during those years been thrown into enough tables, and tossed down enough stairs to easily know the difference.
And he didn’t even care. Worse, he didn’t seem to think anyone else should either.
Gently she pressed the moistened cloth to the drying blood smeared over his back. Wiping it away only revealed more bruises and hinted at old scars disguised beneath the newest cuts. It was now easy to see why he didn’t think he needed medical attention. The little that remained of older injuries said that to him, today had been just walk in the park.
“Look,” she says she pulled out the first aid kit. “I don’t know who you are or why you do whatever it is you do and I know you’re not going to tell me, but I hope you know you’re a hero.”
The expression on his face tightened, his eyes searching the distance as if the conversation was making him uncomfortable. She didn’t get a chance to push him further before the bell on the front door chimed, the door clanging behind it.
Joana spun on her heels, ready to tell someone off, but from the corner of her eyes she saw the tension in Dean’s body immediately ease. There was no need to ask who the new man was.
“Dean!” Sam called out as he sprinted towards them.
He was even younger and taller than Dean. Like crazy-ass giraffe tall with long, shaggy bangs that he brushed away when he stopped at Dean’s side. It was as if he didn’t see Joana as he bent over Dean, hands instantly on his brother.
“Dean, are you okay?”
“Super,” Dean deadpanned.
Sam was obviously used to getting crap answers from Dean. The urgency remained in his eyes as he examined his brother, grabbing Dean’s chin to make him look at him. Dean halfheartedly swatted at him, but Sam ignored it, jumping right in to take over with the first aid kit.
“Chill out, Sammy,” Dean grumbled. “It’s nothing a couple of beers...or a really big bottle of whiskey won’t fix. And you’re not gonna go wrapping me up like the mummy again.”
“We’ll see.”
At first glance, she wondered if ‘brother’ was a euphemism. They moved so in tandem with each other and with such closeness that they clearly only had eyes for each other. It almost felt voyeuristic watching their reunion.
But it only took watching a moment longer to see that even though they looked different in so many ways, in other ways they were practically identical twins - right down to their flannel shirts. It would be really cute if she wasn’t stuck on how familiar this ritual between them seemed. Sam taped over Dean’s wounds with the same mindless ease that Joana would brew up a cup of coffee.
Sam glanced over at her. It was hard to miss the fact that he looked nothing like Dean, but was every bit as handsome in his own way. He also carried that same, deep sincerity in his eyes.
“Thanks for watching out for him,” Sam said.
“What?” Dean asked indignantly. “Like I need a babysitter.”
“Well, obviously you do. I mean, come on, Dean. What were you thinking...”
Definitely brothers.
Joana laughed to herself, listening to their casual argument continue while she filled up three of the only unbroken coffee mugs. Their dispute carried more love and concern than most families ever knew.
They were the kind of people who it was a privilege just to meet. She wished they didn’t have to do what they did, but knowing they were out there doing it softened the blow of discovering what else was out there.