Internal Affairs - Part 5 of 6
Title: Internal Affairs
Authors LJ Username: safiyabat
Artists LJ Username: dizimart
Pairing(s): Meg/Abaddon, Sam/Cara Roberts, past Meg/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 31,924 / 5,051 chapter
Summary: AU - human. When Meg's father, Captain A. Z. Azel, was taken down for corruption, her nemesis Crowley took over the major crimes unit and Meg herself was reassigned to Internal Affairs - the least respected department in San Francisco. The more things change the more they stay the same, though - Major Crimes becomes the target of competing investigations, both by the Feds (as represented by the Winchester Brothers) and a stunningly gorgeous state prosecutor by the name of Abaddon. Can Meg convince these competing investigators to work together well enough to take down her arch-rival and take down a huge human trafficking ring?
Warnings: Violence, sexual content, reference to past dubcon. This fic deals with human trafficking. **NSFW art in this chapter.
They let Meg out of the hospital the next day, deciding that the only sign of lasting damage was her decision to stay on the case and return to SFPD. Her release was contingent of course on her resting and not doing anything too strenuous, which Abaddon assured them would be the case. She was therefore bundled into one of the giant black SUVs and driven with careful attention to traffic and any stragglers back to a nice, neat little home in Dolores Heights.
It was different for Meg, being the one under protection instead of being one of the protectors. The agents ushered her into the house and gave her the tour, and she had to admit that the place was nice. “Have you ever had this much firepower in one safe house?” she asked Agent One.
He snickered. “No. I’m pretty sure that Ms. Sands is the only one without a gun, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t ever need one. I heard about that axe."
Meg blushed. No matter what else had happened, someone had chopped down a door for her. Not just someone, but the most beautiful and intelligent and driven woman in the world.
Abaddon’s bedroom was on the third floor, as was Dean’s. That had probably already caused fireworks, she reflected, not sure if she was glad she’d missed it or sorry she’d been deprived of another good show. One more thing to hold against Crowley, she supposed. Sam had taken the bedroom on the top floor, “because he needs to be taller,” her agent quipped. “I haven’t seen him since he took that room, either. Maybe he’s stuck.”
Yeah, sure. Maybe.
She settled in and rested for about half an hour, but she couldn’t get any sleep. She felt too guilty. Dean’s commentary from the night before weighed on her. So did her own words to Sam. She needed to go and apologize to him. She might hate what he’d done to her and her family but that didn’t excuse her actions.
She got up again and slowly climbed the stairs to the top floor. God, she’d thought she was in better shape than this; it had to be the poisoning that was making her suck wind all the way up here. Unfortunately there were two rooms at the top of the stairs, not counting the bathroom. The first one turned out to be used by agents, but the one in there hadn’t gone to sleep yet and directed her to Sam’s room without a problem.
Sam answered the door before she finished knocking; he’d heard her, then. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She wanted to make a comment about that, but she couldn’t. Sam clearly wasn’t okay. If he’d slept since leaving the conference room that night she’d go out and do wind sprints up and down one of those staircases that brought all the tourists to this neighborhood. “Thanks,” she said instead. “Mind if I come in?”
He hesitated, and she decided to take that for permission. An FBI safe house wasn’t exactly designed for comfort or aesthetics; the room held exactly one bed and one chair, along with a card table. Meg sat in the folding chair, noticing the array of laptops on the folding table. “How many of these things do you travel with, anyway?”
“They spontaneously generate,” he told her with a straight face. “It’s how I supplement my income - my very own line of self-generating laptops. At this rate I’ll be able to retire at forty.”
She snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. “You always were funny. We always liked that about you, your sense of humor.” And they had, too. Nights around the dinner table had seen them all laughing, to include the kid. He’d seemed to enjoy that reaction, to take genuine pleasure in being part of their family. Even Meg’s mother, who had the most to lose by his presence, had grown to love the boy.
He went still. “Thanks,” he said after a few seconds’ silence.
She looked away. “I heard you broke things off with Dr. Roberts.”
He shrugged, looking toward the window. “Yeah.”
“Sam, why? She was crazy about you, you seemed pretty into her -"
“So?” His voice sounded like it had been dragged over a mile of gravel. “I’m still going back to DC after this is over. It’s not like ‘things’ had a chance of going anywhere. And it’s for the best anyway. She’s a fantastic woman with a lot of good things going for her. She doesn’t deserve something like me in her life.”
Fuck. “Sam…”
“Like I said. I’m going away, remember?” He got up from the wall he was leaning against and looked out the window.
“Look,” Meg sighed. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, okay? I was upset, I was hurting and I lashed out. Clarence - Lt. Castiel and I had had a, a thing and the news that he’d done what he did hit me hard.” She played with the hem of her shirt. “I was hurting and I wanted someone else to hurt as much as I was hurting. You were the nearest available target.”
“I know,” he told her softly. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. It’s okay, Meg. I’m not mad.”
“You should be.”
“Nah. You have every right to make me your target after what I did. And like I said. It’s all true.”
“No, Sam. It’s not.” He didn’t respond. “Sam. Come on. You made John Winchester’s whole life when you took Dad down.”
Now he turned around, laughing bitterly. “No. No I didn’t, Meg. See, I wasn’t lying when I told you that he kicked me out for leaving them and going to college. I did all of that on my own. The approach, the research, the undercover, the takedown. Everything. All me. John had nothing to do with it. And when all was said and done, when the man he’d spent twenty-three years hating and looking for ways to kill for the act of creating me was in jail, his reputation and his life in tatters? He still wouldn’t even take my call. It was Dean who told me that I’d have been welcome back if I’d have killed him.”
Meg stared. “So all of that got you nothing.”
He turned back to the window. “It got me answers. It got me the comfort of knowing that my mother’s rapist wasn’t going to hurt anyone else.” He put a hand on the window. “Meg, I know I shredded your life when I put Azel away. I’m sorry. Can you understand what he did to my family?” He sighed. “I know I can’t give you back what you had. And I’m kind of jealous, because the only time I ever had that was when I was with you all. And I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep that.”
“I don’t get that. The Winchesters fought tooth and nail to keep you with them,” she blurted out. She wanted to reach out, to give him some kind of comfort, but she didn’t know how.
“Yeah, no. John wanted to keep me with them because your dad wanted to take me away. And while I wasn’t his, I was Mary’s. That doesn’t mean that I was a particularly welcome addition. Literally, my very existence destroyed my mother, destroyed that entire family. I had to go and do something about it.” He turned around. “Sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all of this.”
“Sam, that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get to go and enjoy your life now.” She got up and went to stand with him. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Both because it was mean, designed to hurt, and because it wasn’t true. You make people’s lives better all the time when you chase scumbags, and your record’s been pretty damn good. I checked.” She hesitated. “And even though you did what you did, our lives were better when you were in them. We both adored you - Tommy and me. Hell, Dad thought you were the hottest thing to come through the department in a hundred years. You brought a lot of joy into that year. They’re good memories. “ They were, too - otherwise it wouldn’t have hurt so much. “Even with everything that came after, they’re good memories.
“And Balthazar - he obviously thought well enough of you to keep in touch, even after everything. And he thought highly enough of you that you’re the one he reached out to when he realized that things were going wrong in the department,” she continued.
When he turned, ever so slightly, away, she put a hand on his arm. He flinched. “Sam, the thing about being in law enforcement is that we never get to see anyone on a good day and we’re usually seeing people at their lowest points. People’s lives are already pretty turned around when we come into them. I mean yeah, your example is a little extreme. And from a purely selfish standpoint I have to kind of resent what happened. From a more reasonable standpoint, though, I have to face the fact that Dad was… well, he was my dad but he did a lot of terrible shit. And when you took him down, you made San Francisco a safer place. You made millions of people’s lives better, whether they know it or not.”
He turned back to her and gave her a thin, watery smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Thanks, Meg.”
“So are we good?” She tried.
“We’re good.” This time the grin was more genuine, even showing a dimple.
“So you’re going to maybe get a little sleep, have a little bit to eat later instead of pushing it around your plate like you think your big sister isn’t watching?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.
Later on, when the team met up for take-out in the kitchen, Sam still looked kind of like death warmed over but at least some of the corpse-like features had receded. He ate almost half of his lo mein, too, which even Dean commented was something of a miracle.
Abaddon came to her room and fussed over her that night, but nothing happened beyond a few kisses best described as “chaste.” The detective knew that Abaddon was holding back because of the poisoning, not because she’d lost interest, but it still bothered her.
The case continued to come together. The assassination attempt on Meg meant that she was freed from the constraints of having to work out of headquarters - after all, no one would expect her to return so soon to the scene of a recent attempt on her life. This unfettered her from the “Internal Affairs” label and allowed her to act as a regular detective, moving freely through the city as long as she had an armed partner with her.
Witnesses had initially been unwilling to talk, being afraid of reprisals or lacking faith in change. That changed with the attack on Meg. News of the event had made the papers and somehow a few lines of text about an assassination attempt on an internal affairs investigator and FBI involvement loosened lips. Maybe it was the FBI involvement part that got people involved, who knew? She would be bitter about that later. Right now she was grateful.
She was even more grateful for the stores and businesses and even private citizens in and around Chinatown that maintained private surveillance systems, and that had started keeping backups of their video recordings. They were very willing to share those videos. Meg passed them on to Sam.
The clothing seized by Henricksen and his technicians from the ME’s office started to yield results. They found hair that was not consistent with the victim’s own hair, that belonged to a white person who was most likely male based on length. DNA analysis was performed, although Sam was skeptical as to the solidity of the evidence in court. “They’ll be able to say, ‘Oh, of course Casey’s DNA is on her body, she was supervising the autopsy. It’s good to have - especially since the DNA is male - but I want more. I want to nail this son of a bitch into the coffin so tight even a crowbar wouldn’t help.”
They needed two things, in an ideal world: they needed proof that Crowley was directing the Major Crimes unit, or a majority of the Major Crimes unit, in a human trafficking operation at a bare minimum. And they needed proof that there was a conspiracy to frame Asian-Americans for the crimes. If they were really lucky they’d get proof that Crowley had put the hit out on Meg, too, but no one seriously believed that they’d get proof of that. The guy was too slick.
Meg made her way down to the ME’s office, in company with Henricksen. Most of the pathologists balked at talking about the sex worker autopsies on the record, but Dr. Roberts provided the example and refused to be intimidated. She went on the record and described how the detectives from Major Crimes behaved in great detail, including how different it was from typical behavior on other homicides. Some pathologists had objected, only to be threatened with dismissal by their superiors. Two had been fired; that was how Roberts had come to work there in the first place.
After the interview Roberts grabbed Meg on her way out the door. “Hey, can I ask you something?” she asked. “How’s Sam? I haven’t heard from him since he broke things off and I’m just… I’m worried about him, you know?”
“He broke things off with you, but you’re worried about him?” Meg raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
She blushed. “I mean, he seemed pretty down. I don’t know. I’m still not… I mean, he was talking about how it wasn’t right because he was only going to leave in a few weeks or whatever, and I deserved better or something, but… I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to make a pest of myself but I just want to know he’s okay.” She bit her lip.
“He’s down. I said some stuff to him, brought some stuff up that I probably shouldn’t have.” She didn’t know how much Cara knew about Sam’s history and didn’t think it was her place to bring it up, but she couldn’t help but own her role in what had taken place. “We’ve talked about it. I think he’s doing a little better, but he’s been through some stuff, you know? It was pretty shitty of me to dredge it up and it’ll be a little while before he’s all sunshine and rainbows, I guess.”
The taller woman sighed. “I’m sure he knows you were just… Well, anyway. I’m not going to be in San Francisco much longer myself. That’s part of the reason I didn’t mind getting involved with a guy who was only here temporarily. I’d already gone after a few federal jobs when we started up.” She grinned wryly. “I’m starting at Quantico with the FBI in a couple of months.”
“Seriously?” Meg chuckled. “I’ll let you be the one to tell him that. If you want to, that is.” She frowned. “I know you weren’t looking for anything serious from him, but…”
“But you want to know what I want from him? I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been averse to something more serious. He’s a great guy. It’s not his thing, though, apparently.”
Meg sighed. “I think you might be pleasantly surprised. Just don’t go breaking his heart, Cara.”
“Giving me the big sister speech?” The pathologist wrinkled her nose adorably. Meg tried not to hate her for it.
“It’s kind of my job. I’ll see you around.”
The conversation left her in a contemplative mood, even after she’d retreated to the safe house and gone over evidence with the team. After the others had retreated to their respective corners for the night Abaddon came and found her. “You’ve been quiet all night,” the redhead observed. “What gives?”
Meg related the conversation she’d had with Cara. “I didn’t realize that I felt that way about him,” she admitted. “I mean, I hated him, or I thought I did, but… I mean, I was feeling pretty protective of him.” She made a face. “I think you’ve domesticated me and I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“He’s your brother, Meg,” Abaddon shrugged. “You may have resented what he did, but you understand him better and it’s natural that you don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“Well, and… I mean, it could work out for him. I mean, it’s a nice fantasy, right? She moves out to DC, they’re in the same place, roughly anyway, they’ve got great chemistry… it could be a really good thing. For both of them.”
Abaddon snorted. “Maybe. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten fond of him. Tolerant, anyway. Mostly for your sake.” She paused. “You know, Sacramento and San Francisco aren’t that far. Hour and a half, tops.”
Meg swallowed. “Are you saying that you want to see me after all this is over?”
Abaddon’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? I want to see you - all of you - as much as I can. I’m not going to lie; a lot of my job involves travel. But Meg, you’re incredible. You’re beautiful, you’re brave, you’re brilliant and you take absolutely no shit. Why would I not want to see that very time I have the chance?”
The detective blushed. “Seriously? Next to you I feel like a mouse.”
“No. Not a mouse. A very, very feisty serval, maybe, but not a mouse.” She leaned in for a kiss. “But here’s the thing, Meg,” she said when they parted for breath. “Do you really want to stay here? Someone tried to kill you. Someone in your department tried to kill you, and no one helped. That woman - Sam said she was called Ruby or something? She tried to stop me from helping you.”
Meg turned away, which only prompted nuzzling. Meg wasn’t going to object to that; it lessened the impact of the words and nuzzles were very nice in their own right. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have no idea where I’d even go. I mean, I’m the daughter of one of the most notorious dirty cops in the state’s history. Who would hire me?”
“CBI would,” her girlfriend told her honestly. “I’ve already talked to them. It might have been presumptuous of me, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up. They’d love to talk to you; you’ve impressed plenty of people with your skills in this case, and your successes before you got sent down here to IAD. I don’t know if that’s something you want, and the fact that they’re interested isn’t necessarily a guarantee that you’ll get a job. But it’s worth looking into.”
At the moment the only thing Meg wanted to look into was Abaddon’s beautiful blue eyes. She had finally decided that Meg probably wouldn’t break or stop breathing or anything and wasn’t trying to gentle Meg’s kisses. No, now she gave back as good as she got, letting Meg stroke her back as their lips sealed. She found hands reaching tentatively underneath her blouse and she grinned. Abaddon was definitely a take-charge kind of woman. Usually Meg liked to be the one in control but with Abaddon, she found she could relax. She leaned back and carefully unbuttoned the garment, letting her lover peel it gently off of her before she took care of her own shirt in quick, efficient movements that showed her frustration.
They’d been here once before, hadn’t they? Meg looked up at Abaddon, pale, perfect breasts encased in blue lace and satin. How she’d managed to get lingerie in the same shade as her eyes would remain one of the great mysteries of the ages; maybe they just had better stores in Sacramento. “You’re gorgeous,” Meg breathed, smiling. “Is it alright…?” She reached out a tentative hand.
“It’s the goal,” Abaddon smirked. “Or at least an important step along the way.”
Meg brushed a hand against Abaddon’s beautiful breast, clad in that beautiful bra, and was rewarded by a sudden intake of breath. Maybe the prosecutor had been just as anxious for this to happen as Meg had, she realized as she caressed the hardened nipple. Maybe she’d been as angry about their interruption as Meg was.
She reached around to unhook the bra, lovely as it was, and moved it to the floor. Abaddon’s breasts were perfect, just made for her mouth and her hands, and so sensitive! It took only the lightest touches for Meg to elicit the most beautiful little groans and hisses from her partner. If she died tomorrow, assuming she went to heaven, the cloud she called home would be made entirely of those perfect sounds.
Abaddon was not the type to be content with sitting back and accepting worship for long. She leaned in and helped Meg off with her own bra, letting Meg help her off with her pants at the same time. Abaddon took the opportunity to divest her of her skirt, leaving them both naked. Finally, she thought, as her lover took one of her nipples between her lips.
Well, she was a lawyer. It only made sense that she would know what to do with her mouth, right?
And did she ever know what to do with her mouth. Meg had been a little chilled once the clothes were gone, but under Abaddon she warmed back up and then some. Abaddon didn’t stop with her breasts, not the way a guy would have. Her hands roamed the curves of her body, committing the curves of her waist and her chest and her arms and her thighs to memory. Every part of her became an erogenous zone where Abaddon’s searing hand passed over it, so that when she got to the cleft between Meg’s legs she already half expected the sheets to catch fire.
Not that Meg was still and waiting, like a blushing bride. She needed to feel Abaddon underneath her, to know that this was really happening and not one of the wild dreams that had been plaguing her since she’d met the very special prosecutor. She had to taste every inch of Abaddon’s alabaster skin, to know how that smooth flesh felt under her tongue. She needed to run her hands through that gorgeous hair, to hear her give a little moan at the occasional gentle tug. She needed to hear more of those moans and, increasingly, soft cries as Abaddon fell apart beneath her hands.
In the end they collapsed in each other’s arms, hair tangled on the pillow in a maze of red and black even as their own scents combined.
It was probably a week after Meg and Abaddon first made love that they got their first major break, and the break came from an unexpected source: Cara Roberts. She called Sam, telling him that she needed to see him. Would he be willing to come down to the ME’s office?
“She didn’t sound right,” he opined as he discussed the matter with the rest of the team. “I’m worried about her.”
“Well you dumped her on her ass, Sam. She probably wants anything but contact with you,” Dean suggested helpfully. “Maybe she’s got syphilis and has to disclose the infection to all her past partners.”
Meg, Abaddon and Henricksen gaped. “Keep a good thought, there, Dean-o,” Meg told him. “Nice to know you’re supportive.”
“That was supportive,” Dean informed with a grin. “You didn’t specify who I was supposed to support."
“Touché,” Abaddon admitted.
“I’ll go with you, Sam,” Meg offered hastily, grabbing her gun and badge. “No one goes anywhere alone anymore, remember?”
“Right.” He didn’t sigh, but he looked a little gray as he grabbed keys to one of the FBI vehicles and walked out the door with her.
“Did you just… steal the keys to a Fedmobile?” she blinked.
“I am technically a Fed,” he pointed out. “Plus these things are the only cars I fit in comfortably.”
“Your own fault for growing into such a giant.” She hid her delight when she saw him crack half a grin at that. “Is everything alright with you and Dean?”
He shrugged as he pulled the car out onto the street. “Yeah, sure. We’re fine. He’s not thrilled about the assignment. He doesn’t like being reminded of any of this, you know?”
“My family?” Meg made a face.
“That’s part of it. Remember, I wasn’t supposed to go to Stanford in the first place. It wasn’t allowed. There’s this whole… void, in our lives, as far as he’s concerned, when I was away. He wound up enlisting after I left, but it was because I wasn’t there. I wrecked things for them, for him. Being here in San Francisco, seeing people who knew me when I was apart from him - he’s not comfortable with that.”
“What is he, five?” Meg blurted. “I mean, you’re both grown-ass men. You’re allowed to have lives without the other one, you know.” She looked out the window.
“Not sure it works that way, Meg. But remember, he’s not hearing all good stuff.” Sam grimaced. “Just because he’s not responding to it doesn’t mean he’s not hearing it and processing it on some level.”
“Like Crowley,” she surmised, nodding.
“Like Crowley,” he confirmed, and drove.
They pulled up to the Office of the Medical Examiner and showed themselves back to Cara’s office. They found Cara sitting behind her desk, back as straight as though someone had duct-taped a broom handle to her, and hands out and plastered to the desktop. Sitting in one of the orange plastic visitor chairs, body fully relaxed like a cat, was Ruby Cortese.
Ruby smiled lazily. “Sammy. It’s good to see you. Been a while, hasn’t it?”
Meg recoiled at the tone in her voice. “Really? Really, Cara? This is what you pull?”
“Don’t blame her, Meg. I told her I had a gun. Which, you know, I do. Crowley and the others, you know, they trust me. They trust me to do the important work.” She looked between the two of them. “I expected you to come alone, Sammy. All things considered.”
“We split up,” Sam growled. “We split up precisely so that -“
“Oh, so that this wouldn’t happen?” Ruby nodded, smirking. “Funny, that. You should’ve known that you don’t really get to have this. Not anywhere, but especially not in freaking San Francisco. They sent me here to bring you into the fold if I could. Take you out if I couldn’t.”
“And what about Cara?” Meg asked, nostrils flaring. “What are your orders regarding her in all this?”
“If she played ball, and Sam played ball, there was no reason they couldn’t have gone their separate ways and lived good long healthy lives. If not - well, if Crowley was willing to gas you in your office do you really think taking out a coroner is going to make him lose any more hair?” She snorted. “I mean, really. I don’t care how pretty she is.” She eyed Cara up and down. “You are pretty, I’ll say that much for you. Sammy at least has taste.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You have to know that you’re not walking out of here, Ruby. I’m not joining up with Crowley, of all people, and I’m not letting you hurt Cara or Meg.”
“Duh.” She reached up and stroked his face. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
Cara looked at Sam. “You dated her?”
“It was more of a colleagues with benefits thing… yeah, I guess.” He sighed. “Ruby, you knew what you were getting into - it was your idea in the first place.”
“And I turned you into one hell of a detective.”
Meg held back a harrumph. She was pretty sure that the dark-eyed seductress had less to do with Sam’s skills than his life at John Winchester’s unwilling knee, but that wasn’t a helpful element to add to the discussion right now. “Alright, so you know you’re not getting out of here. What is it that you were hoping to accomplish?” she demanded.
“Well, I was planning to turn myself in if it’s all the same to you.” Ruby smiled sweetly. “I mean, obviously I want to talk about a deal and everything, but I’ve got information. I can tell you that a van load of girls is going to be coming down from Portland in three days, and that Crowley’s going to be there to inspect the goods personally. I’ve got more, too. But I’m not saying anything until we start talking about deals and protection.”
Meg looked at Sam. Sam looked at Meg. “Alright,” Meg told her, half groaning out the words. “No promises, and you know they’re going to want your badge, right?”
“If you can keep me safe from Crowley you can have it, take it and galvanize your doorknob or whatever.” She slumped a little. “I just want it to be over.”
Sam turned to Cara. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to be around right now,” he said, holding out a pacifying hand, “but we’re just worried about your safety. Crowley knew where she was going, what she was doing. He’ll know to come looking for you. The FBI has had us in a safe house for a couple of weeks - pretty much since we split up. There’s space for you there, it’s not pretty but it’s - you know, safe.”
Cara let herself smile, just a little. “I’d rather be safe and a little awkward than out there with a killer cop looking for my head,” she told him. “Besides, I’d get to see more of you.”
Ruby sneered, and Sam’s answering smile was watery, but they loaded everyone into the SUV and drove to the federal building. An agent was dispatched with Cara to go and get some clothes and personal items and Meg and Sam got to work with Ruby.
Back to Chapter Four -- On to Chapter Six
Authors LJ Username: safiyabat
Artists LJ Username: dizimart
Pairing(s): Meg/Abaddon, Sam/Cara Roberts, past Meg/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 31,924 / 5,051 chapter
Summary: AU - human. When Meg's father, Captain A. Z. Azel, was taken down for corruption, her nemesis Crowley took over the major crimes unit and Meg herself was reassigned to Internal Affairs - the least respected department in San Francisco. The more things change the more they stay the same, though - Major Crimes becomes the target of competing investigations, both by the Feds (as represented by the Winchester Brothers) and a stunningly gorgeous state prosecutor by the name of Abaddon. Can Meg convince these competing investigators to work together well enough to take down her arch-rival and take down a huge human trafficking ring?
Warnings: Violence, sexual content, reference to past dubcon. This fic deals with human trafficking. **NSFW art in this chapter.
They let Meg out of the hospital the next day, deciding that the only sign of lasting damage was her decision to stay on the case and return to SFPD. Her release was contingent of course on her resting and not doing anything too strenuous, which Abaddon assured them would be the case. She was therefore bundled into one of the giant black SUVs and driven with careful attention to traffic and any stragglers back to a nice, neat little home in Dolores Heights.
It was different for Meg, being the one under protection instead of being one of the protectors. The agents ushered her into the house and gave her the tour, and she had to admit that the place was nice. “Have you ever had this much firepower in one safe house?” she asked Agent One.
He snickered. “No. I’m pretty sure that Ms. Sands is the only one without a gun, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t ever need one. I heard about that axe."
Meg blushed. No matter what else had happened, someone had chopped down a door for her. Not just someone, but the most beautiful and intelligent and driven woman in the world.
Abaddon’s bedroom was on the third floor, as was Dean’s. That had probably already caused fireworks, she reflected, not sure if she was glad she’d missed it or sorry she’d been deprived of another good show. One more thing to hold against Crowley, she supposed. Sam had taken the bedroom on the top floor, “because he needs to be taller,” her agent quipped. “I haven’t seen him since he took that room, either. Maybe he’s stuck.”
Yeah, sure. Maybe.
She settled in and rested for about half an hour, but she couldn’t get any sleep. She felt too guilty. Dean’s commentary from the night before weighed on her. So did her own words to Sam. She needed to go and apologize to him. She might hate what he’d done to her and her family but that didn’t excuse her actions.
She got up again and slowly climbed the stairs to the top floor. God, she’d thought she was in better shape than this; it had to be the poisoning that was making her suck wind all the way up here. Unfortunately there were two rooms at the top of the stairs, not counting the bathroom. The first one turned out to be used by agents, but the one in there hadn’t gone to sleep yet and directed her to Sam’s room without a problem.
Sam answered the door before she finished knocking; he’d heard her, then. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She wanted to make a comment about that, but she couldn’t. Sam clearly wasn’t okay. If he’d slept since leaving the conference room that night she’d go out and do wind sprints up and down one of those staircases that brought all the tourists to this neighborhood. “Thanks,” she said instead. “Mind if I come in?”
He hesitated, and she decided to take that for permission. An FBI safe house wasn’t exactly designed for comfort or aesthetics; the room held exactly one bed and one chair, along with a card table. Meg sat in the folding chair, noticing the array of laptops on the folding table. “How many of these things do you travel with, anyway?”
“They spontaneously generate,” he told her with a straight face. “It’s how I supplement my income - my very own line of self-generating laptops. At this rate I’ll be able to retire at forty.”
She snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. “You always were funny. We always liked that about you, your sense of humor.” And they had, too. Nights around the dinner table had seen them all laughing, to include the kid. He’d seemed to enjoy that reaction, to take genuine pleasure in being part of their family. Even Meg’s mother, who had the most to lose by his presence, had grown to love the boy.
He went still. “Thanks,” he said after a few seconds’ silence.
She looked away. “I heard you broke things off with Dr. Roberts.”
He shrugged, looking toward the window. “Yeah.”
“Sam, why? She was crazy about you, you seemed pretty into her -"
“So?” His voice sounded like it had been dragged over a mile of gravel. “I’m still going back to DC after this is over. It’s not like ‘things’ had a chance of going anywhere. And it’s for the best anyway. She’s a fantastic woman with a lot of good things going for her. She doesn’t deserve something like me in her life.”
Fuck. “Sam…”
“Like I said. I’m going away, remember?” He got up from the wall he was leaning against and looked out the window.
“Look,” Meg sighed. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, okay? I was upset, I was hurting and I lashed out. Clarence - Lt. Castiel and I had had a, a thing and the news that he’d done what he did hit me hard.” She played with the hem of her shirt. “I was hurting and I wanted someone else to hurt as much as I was hurting. You were the nearest available target.”
“I know,” he told her softly. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. It’s okay, Meg. I’m not mad.”
“You should be.”
“Nah. You have every right to make me your target after what I did. And like I said. It’s all true.”
“No, Sam. It’s not.” He didn’t respond. “Sam. Come on. You made John Winchester’s whole life when you took Dad down.”
Now he turned around, laughing bitterly. “No. No I didn’t, Meg. See, I wasn’t lying when I told you that he kicked me out for leaving them and going to college. I did all of that on my own. The approach, the research, the undercover, the takedown. Everything. All me. John had nothing to do with it. And when all was said and done, when the man he’d spent twenty-three years hating and looking for ways to kill for the act of creating me was in jail, his reputation and his life in tatters? He still wouldn’t even take my call. It was Dean who told me that I’d have been welcome back if I’d have killed him.”
Meg stared. “So all of that got you nothing.”
He turned back to the window. “It got me answers. It got me the comfort of knowing that my mother’s rapist wasn’t going to hurt anyone else.” He put a hand on the window. “Meg, I know I shredded your life when I put Azel away. I’m sorry. Can you understand what he did to my family?” He sighed. “I know I can’t give you back what you had. And I’m kind of jealous, because the only time I ever had that was when I was with you all. And I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep that.”
“I don’t get that. The Winchesters fought tooth and nail to keep you with them,” she blurted out. She wanted to reach out, to give him some kind of comfort, but she didn’t know how.
“Yeah, no. John wanted to keep me with them because your dad wanted to take me away. And while I wasn’t his, I was Mary’s. That doesn’t mean that I was a particularly welcome addition. Literally, my very existence destroyed my mother, destroyed that entire family. I had to go and do something about it.” He turned around. “Sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all of this.”
“Sam, that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get to go and enjoy your life now.” She got up and went to stand with him. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Both because it was mean, designed to hurt, and because it wasn’t true. You make people’s lives better all the time when you chase scumbags, and your record’s been pretty damn good. I checked.” She hesitated. “And even though you did what you did, our lives were better when you were in them. We both adored you - Tommy and me. Hell, Dad thought you were the hottest thing to come through the department in a hundred years. You brought a lot of joy into that year. They’re good memories. “ They were, too - otherwise it wouldn’t have hurt so much. “Even with everything that came after, they’re good memories.
“And Balthazar - he obviously thought well enough of you to keep in touch, even after everything. And he thought highly enough of you that you’re the one he reached out to when he realized that things were going wrong in the department,” she continued.
When he turned, ever so slightly, away, she put a hand on his arm. He flinched. “Sam, the thing about being in law enforcement is that we never get to see anyone on a good day and we’re usually seeing people at their lowest points. People’s lives are already pretty turned around when we come into them. I mean yeah, your example is a little extreme. And from a purely selfish standpoint I have to kind of resent what happened. From a more reasonable standpoint, though, I have to face the fact that Dad was… well, he was my dad but he did a lot of terrible shit. And when you took him down, you made San Francisco a safer place. You made millions of people’s lives better, whether they know it or not.”
He turned back to her and gave her a thin, watery smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Thanks, Meg.”
“So are we good?” She tried.
“We’re good.” This time the grin was more genuine, even showing a dimple.
“So you’re going to maybe get a little sleep, have a little bit to eat later instead of pushing it around your plate like you think your big sister isn’t watching?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.
Later on, when the team met up for take-out in the kitchen, Sam still looked kind of like death warmed over but at least some of the corpse-like features had receded. He ate almost half of his lo mein, too, which even Dean commented was something of a miracle.
Abaddon came to her room and fussed over her that night, but nothing happened beyond a few kisses best described as “chaste.” The detective knew that Abaddon was holding back because of the poisoning, not because she’d lost interest, but it still bothered her.
The case continued to come together. The assassination attempt on Meg meant that she was freed from the constraints of having to work out of headquarters - after all, no one would expect her to return so soon to the scene of a recent attempt on her life. This unfettered her from the “Internal Affairs” label and allowed her to act as a regular detective, moving freely through the city as long as she had an armed partner with her.
Witnesses had initially been unwilling to talk, being afraid of reprisals or lacking faith in change. That changed with the attack on Meg. News of the event had made the papers and somehow a few lines of text about an assassination attempt on an internal affairs investigator and FBI involvement loosened lips. Maybe it was the FBI involvement part that got people involved, who knew? She would be bitter about that later. Right now she was grateful.
She was even more grateful for the stores and businesses and even private citizens in and around Chinatown that maintained private surveillance systems, and that had started keeping backups of their video recordings. They were very willing to share those videos. Meg passed them on to Sam.
The clothing seized by Henricksen and his technicians from the ME’s office started to yield results. They found hair that was not consistent with the victim’s own hair, that belonged to a white person who was most likely male based on length. DNA analysis was performed, although Sam was skeptical as to the solidity of the evidence in court. “They’ll be able to say, ‘Oh, of course Casey’s DNA is on her body, she was supervising the autopsy. It’s good to have - especially since the DNA is male - but I want more. I want to nail this son of a bitch into the coffin so tight even a crowbar wouldn’t help.”
They needed two things, in an ideal world: they needed proof that Crowley was directing the Major Crimes unit, or a majority of the Major Crimes unit, in a human trafficking operation at a bare minimum. And they needed proof that there was a conspiracy to frame Asian-Americans for the crimes. If they were really lucky they’d get proof that Crowley had put the hit out on Meg, too, but no one seriously believed that they’d get proof of that. The guy was too slick.
Meg made her way down to the ME’s office, in company with Henricksen. Most of the pathologists balked at talking about the sex worker autopsies on the record, but Dr. Roberts provided the example and refused to be intimidated. She went on the record and described how the detectives from Major Crimes behaved in great detail, including how different it was from typical behavior on other homicides. Some pathologists had objected, only to be threatened with dismissal by their superiors. Two had been fired; that was how Roberts had come to work there in the first place.
After the interview Roberts grabbed Meg on her way out the door. “Hey, can I ask you something?” she asked. “How’s Sam? I haven’t heard from him since he broke things off and I’m just… I’m worried about him, you know?”
“He broke things off with you, but you’re worried about him?” Meg raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
She blushed. “I mean, he seemed pretty down. I don’t know. I’m still not… I mean, he was talking about how it wasn’t right because he was only going to leave in a few weeks or whatever, and I deserved better or something, but… I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to make a pest of myself but I just want to know he’s okay.” She bit her lip.
“He’s down. I said some stuff to him, brought some stuff up that I probably shouldn’t have.” She didn’t know how much Cara knew about Sam’s history and didn’t think it was her place to bring it up, but she couldn’t help but own her role in what had taken place. “We’ve talked about it. I think he’s doing a little better, but he’s been through some stuff, you know? It was pretty shitty of me to dredge it up and it’ll be a little while before he’s all sunshine and rainbows, I guess.”
The taller woman sighed. “I’m sure he knows you were just… Well, anyway. I’m not going to be in San Francisco much longer myself. That’s part of the reason I didn’t mind getting involved with a guy who was only here temporarily. I’d already gone after a few federal jobs when we started up.” She grinned wryly. “I’m starting at Quantico with the FBI in a couple of months.”
“Seriously?” Meg chuckled. “I’ll let you be the one to tell him that. If you want to, that is.” She frowned. “I know you weren’t looking for anything serious from him, but…”
“But you want to know what I want from him? I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been averse to something more serious. He’s a great guy. It’s not his thing, though, apparently.”
Meg sighed. “I think you might be pleasantly surprised. Just don’t go breaking his heart, Cara.”
“Giving me the big sister speech?” The pathologist wrinkled her nose adorably. Meg tried not to hate her for it.
“It’s kind of my job. I’ll see you around.”
The conversation left her in a contemplative mood, even after she’d retreated to the safe house and gone over evidence with the team. After the others had retreated to their respective corners for the night Abaddon came and found her. “You’ve been quiet all night,” the redhead observed. “What gives?”
Meg related the conversation she’d had with Cara. “I didn’t realize that I felt that way about him,” she admitted. “I mean, I hated him, or I thought I did, but… I mean, I was feeling pretty protective of him.” She made a face. “I think you’ve domesticated me and I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“He’s your brother, Meg,” Abaddon shrugged. “You may have resented what he did, but you understand him better and it’s natural that you don’t want to see him get hurt.”
“Well, and… I mean, it could work out for him. I mean, it’s a nice fantasy, right? She moves out to DC, they’re in the same place, roughly anyway, they’ve got great chemistry… it could be a really good thing. For both of them.”
Abaddon snorted. “Maybe. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten fond of him. Tolerant, anyway. Mostly for your sake.” She paused. “You know, Sacramento and San Francisco aren’t that far. Hour and a half, tops.”
Meg swallowed. “Are you saying that you want to see me after all this is over?”
Abaddon’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? I want to see you - all of you - as much as I can. I’m not going to lie; a lot of my job involves travel. But Meg, you’re incredible. You’re beautiful, you’re brave, you’re brilliant and you take absolutely no shit. Why would I not want to see that very time I have the chance?”
The detective blushed. “Seriously? Next to you I feel like a mouse.”
“No. Not a mouse. A very, very feisty serval, maybe, but not a mouse.” She leaned in for a kiss. “But here’s the thing, Meg,” she said when they parted for breath. “Do you really want to stay here? Someone tried to kill you. Someone in your department tried to kill you, and no one helped. That woman - Sam said she was called Ruby or something? She tried to stop me from helping you.”
Meg turned away, which only prompted nuzzling. Meg wasn’t going to object to that; it lessened the impact of the words and nuzzles were very nice in their own right. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have no idea where I’d even go. I mean, I’m the daughter of one of the most notorious dirty cops in the state’s history. Who would hire me?”
“CBI would,” her girlfriend told her honestly. “I’ve already talked to them. It might have been presumptuous of me, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up. They’d love to talk to you; you’ve impressed plenty of people with your skills in this case, and your successes before you got sent down here to IAD. I don’t know if that’s something you want, and the fact that they’re interested isn’t necessarily a guarantee that you’ll get a job. But it’s worth looking into.”
At the moment the only thing Meg wanted to look into was Abaddon’s beautiful blue eyes. She had finally decided that Meg probably wouldn’t break or stop breathing or anything and wasn’t trying to gentle Meg’s kisses. No, now she gave back as good as she got, letting Meg stroke her back as their lips sealed. She found hands reaching tentatively underneath her blouse and she grinned. Abaddon was definitely a take-charge kind of woman. Usually Meg liked to be the one in control but with Abaddon, she found she could relax. She leaned back and carefully unbuttoned the garment, letting her lover peel it gently off of her before she took care of her own shirt in quick, efficient movements that showed her frustration.
They’d been here once before, hadn’t they? Meg looked up at Abaddon, pale, perfect breasts encased in blue lace and satin. How she’d managed to get lingerie in the same shade as her eyes would remain one of the great mysteries of the ages; maybe they just had better stores in Sacramento. “You’re gorgeous,” Meg breathed, smiling. “Is it alright…?” She reached out a tentative hand.
“It’s the goal,” Abaddon smirked. “Or at least an important step along the way.”
Meg brushed a hand against Abaddon’s beautiful breast, clad in that beautiful bra, and was rewarded by a sudden intake of breath. Maybe the prosecutor had been just as anxious for this to happen as Meg had, she realized as she caressed the hardened nipple. Maybe she’d been as angry about their interruption as Meg was.
She reached around to unhook the bra, lovely as it was, and moved it to the floor. Abaddon’s breasts were perfect, just made for her mouth and her hands, and so sensitive! It took only the lightest touches for Meg to elicit the most beautiful little groans and hisses from her partner. If she died tomorrow, assuming she went to heaven, the cloud she called home would be made entirely of those perfect sounds.
Abaddon was not the type to be content with sitting back and accepting worship for long. She leaned in and helped Meg off with her own bra, letting Meg help her off with her pants at the same time. Abaddon took the opportunity to divest her of her skirt, leaving them both naked. Finally, she thought, as her lover took one of her nipples between her lips.
Well, she was a lawyer. It only made sense that she would know what to do with her mouth, right?
And did she ever know what to do with her mouth. Meg had been a little chilled once the clothes were gone, but under Abaddon she warmed back up and then some. Abaddon didn’t stop with her breasts, not the way a guy would have. Her hands roamed the curves of her body, committing the curves of her waist and her chest and her arms and her thighs to memory. Every part of her became an erogenous zone where Abaddon’s searing hand passed over it, so that when she got to the cleft between Meg’s legs she already half expected the sheets to catch fire.
Not that Meg was still and waiting, like a blushing bride. She needed to feel Abaddon underneath her, to know that this was really happening and not one of the wild dreams that had been plaguing her since she’d met the very special prosecutor. She had to taste every inch of Abaddon’s alabaster skin, to know how that smooth flesh felt under her tongue. She needed to run her hands through that gorgeous hair, to hear her give a little moan at the occasional gentle tug. She needed to hear more of those moans and, increasingly, soft cries as Abaddon fell apart beneath her hands.
In the end they collapsed in each other’s arms, hair tangled on the pillow in a maze of red and black even as their own scents combined.
It was probably a week after Meg and Abaddon first made love that they got their first major break, and the break came from an unexpected source: Cara Roberts. She called Sam, telling him that she needed to see him. Would he be willing to come down to the ME’s office?
“She didn’t sound right,” he opined as he discussed the matter with the rest of the team. “I’m worried about her.”
“Well you dumped her on her ass, Sam. She probably wants anything but contact with you,” Dean suggested helpfully. “Maybe she’s got syphilis and has to disclose the infection to all her past partners.”
Meg, Abaddon and Henricksen gaped. “Keep a good thought, there, Dean-o,” Meg told him. “Nice to know you’re supportive.”
“That was supportive,” Dean informed with a grin. “You didn’t specify who I was supposed to support."
“Touché,” Abaddon admitted.
“I’ll go with you, Sam,” Meg offered hastily, grabbing her gun and badge. “No one goes anywhere alone anymore, remember?”
“Right.” He didn’t sigh, but he looked a little gray as he grabbed keys to one of the FBI vehicles and walked out the door with her.
“Did you just… steal the keys to a Fedmobile?” she blinked.
“I am technically a Fed,” he pointed out. “Plus these things are the only cars I fit in comfortably.”
“Your own fault for growing into such a giant.” She hid her delight when she saw him crack half a grin at that. “Is everything alright with you and Dean?”
He shrugged as he pulled the car out onto the street. “Yeah, sure. We’re fine. He’s not thrilled about the assignment. He doesn’t like being reminded of any of this, you know?”
“My family?” Meg made a face.
“That’s part of it. Remember, I wasn’t supposed to go to Stanford in the first place. It wasn’t allowed. There’s this whole… void, in our lives, as far as he’s concerned, when I was away. He wound up enlisting after I left, but it was because I wasn’t there. I wrecked things for them, for him. Being here in San Francisco, seeing people who knew me when I was apart from him - he’s not comfortable with that.”
“What is he, five?” Meg blurted. “I mean, you’re both grown-ass men. You’re allowed to have lives without the other one, you know.” She looked out the window.
“Not sure it works that way, Meg. But remember, he’s not hearing all good stuff.” Sam grimaced. “Just because he’s not responding to it doesn’t mean he’s not hearing it and processing it on some level.”
“Like Crowley,” she surmised, nodding.
“Like Crowley,” he confirmed, and drove.
They pulled up to the Office of the Medical Examiner and showed themselves back to Cara’s office. They found Cara sitting behind her desk, back as straight as though someone had duct-taped a broom handle to her, and hands out and plastered to the desktop. Sitting in one of the orange plastic visitor chairs, body fully relaxed like a cat, was Ruby Cortese.
Ruby smiled lazily. “Sammy. It’s good to see you. Been a while, hasn’t it?”
Meg recoiled at the tone in her voice. “Really? Really, Cara? This is what you pull?”
“Don’t blame her, Meg. I told her I had a gun. Which, you know, I do. Crowley and the others, you know, they trust me. They trust me to do the important work.” She looked between the two of them. “I expected you to come alone, Sammy. All things considered.”
“We split up,” Sam growled. “We split up precisely so that -“
“Oh, so that this wouldn’t happen?” Ruby nodded, smirking. “Funny, that. You should’ve known that you don’t really get to have this. Not anywhere, but especially not in freaking San Francisco. They sent me here to bring you into the fold if I could. Take you out if I couldn’t.”
“And what about Cara?” Meg asked, nostrils flaring. “What are your orders regarding her in all this?”
“If she played ball, and Sam played ball, there was no reason they couldn’t have gone their separate ways and lived good long healthy lives. If not - well, if Crowley was willing to gas you in your office do you really think taking out a coroner is going to make him lose any more hair?” She snorted. “I mean, really. I don’t care how pretty she is.” She eyed Cara up and down. “You are pretty, I’ll say that much for you. Sammy at least has taste.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You have to know that you’re not walking out of here, Ruby. I’m not joining up with Crowley, of all people, and I’m not letting you hurt Cara or Meg.”
“Duh.” She reached up and stroked his face. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
Cara looked at Sam. “You dated her?”
“It was more of a colleagues with benefits thing… yeah, I guess.” He sighed. “Ruby, you knew what you were getting into - it was your idea in the first place.”
“And I turned you into one hell of a detective.”
Meg held back a harrumph. She was pretty sure that the dark-eyed seductress had less to do with Sam’s skills than his life at John Winchester’s unwilling knee, but that wasn’t a helpful element to add to the discussion right now. “Alright, so you know you’re not getting out of here. What is it that you were hoping to accomplish?” she demanded.
“Well, I was planning to turn myself in if it’s all the same to you.” Ruby smiled sweetly. “I mean, obviously I want to talk about a deal and everything, but I’ve got information. I can tell you that a van load of girls is going to be coming down from Portland in three days, and that Crowley’s going to be there to inspect the goods personally. I’ve got more, too. But I’m not saying anything until we start talking about deals and protection.”
Meg looked at Sam. Sam looked at Meg. “Alright,” Meg told her, half groaning out the words. “No promises, and you know they’re going to want your badge, right?”
“If you can keep me safe from Crowley you can have it, take it and galvanize your doorknob or whatever.” She slumped a little. “I just want it to be over.”
Sam turned to Cara. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to be around right now,” he said, holding out a pacifying hand, “but we’re just worried about your safety. Crowley knew where she was going, what she was doing. He’ll know to come looking for you. The FBI has had us in a safe house for a couple of weeks - pretty much since we split up. There’s space for you there, it’s not pretty but it’s - you know, safe.”
Cara let herself smile, just a little. “I’d rather be safe and a little awkward than out there with a killer cop looking for my head,” she told him. “Besides, I’d get to see more of you.”
Ruby sneered, and Sam’s answering smile was watery, but they loaded everyone into the SUV and drove to the federal building. An agent was dispatched with Cara to go and get some clothes and personal items and Meg and Sam got to work with Ruby.
Back to Chapter Four -- On to Chapter Six