There's a Flagpole Rag and the Wind Won't Stop
There's a Flagpole Rag and the Wind Won't Stop
Story 2 in the Little Black Spot series
Supernatural/Miracles AU
Girl!Dean/Sam
Rated NC-17
Originally, this story was going to be platonic Girl!Dean and Sam and no "Miracles." Damn muses. I just can't keep Dean and Paul apart even when Dean is Deanne. Strange since there's no chance of them actually getting together. Still my OTP, though.
Backup, unbeta'ed
Warning: Graphic sex, consensual incest, brief mention of past childhood sexual abuse
I don't advocate incest and think that most incest is far more emotionally damaging than what will be in this story. It is the unique relationship between Sam and Dean that makes any of this possible in my head. But for the record, I didn't want to write the story this way. Real life incest sickens me. I'm just following what the muses demand and seeing where the challenge takes me.
Challenges: City at night, storm, need
Title comes from The Police "King of Pain"
Deanne found the quiet of a city at this time of night to be calming after a big hunt. After the blood and the screaming of dying beasts, the neon lights of a Vacancy sign, especially when seen through a wall of rain, formed everything that she knew of normal. Deanne watched the fast food places, the chain restaurants, and the car dealerships go by as she drove the highway with her brother's head on her shoulder, listening to the windshield wipers, swish clunk swish clunk, and tried to just allow herself to relax. It had been a tense evening.
Usually, she'd be all riled up and set for some action after a hunt like that, but there was Sammy to think of, and his mental state. His reaction had alarmed Deanne. It shouldn't have surprised her too much; after all, Sam had found out that his girlfriend had betrayed him and lost her in the span of an hour. But still, it wasn't like him to become so violent. Maybe a lot had changed in four years.
The lights and signs of the McDonalds, the Carls Jr.'s, the Outback Steakhouse restaurants, the familiarity of it all going by, distorted through a wavery sheet of water, had lulled Deanne into believing that her quiet brother had gone to sleep. She was absently studying the form of the golden arches as they rippled across the windshield when Sam spoke, nearly scaring her out of her seat and through the roof of the Impala.
"How'd you know I was in danger, Deanne?"
"God, Sammy, you nearly scared me out of my skin. Don't do that, okay?"
Sam persisted. "How'd you know I was in danger?"
Rolling her eyes, Deanne replied, "You just can't wait until we get to the motel, huh? Alright. You remember that picture you sent me through e-mail? The one of you and Jessica? I downloaded it onto my phone and at some point, showed it to Dad. Lookit, Dad, it's Sammy's girlfriend. 'What the hell,' he says, 'I killed that bitch ?? years ago.' Dad recognized her. She was the head of a siren clan, along with her two sisters."
Sam took it all in. "They all look alike?"
"Triplets," Deanne confirmed with a nod.
"Then..." She heard her brother take a deep breath. "...then there's one more out there."
"Yeah," Deanne said. "Unless someone else killed her ass. But if not, yeah, there's another Jessica-clone out there."
Sam grew quiet, unreadable, staring out into the rain.
Because he'd asked for the whole story, Deanne continued. "Dad thought that she was going to use you for the annual spawn as revenge for him killing her sister, and he was right. Our dad has amazing instincts, huh? I mean, I know you aren't really talking to him, but you gotta give the guy props. Anyway, each clan has their own night each year when they get busy, so Dad called in some woman to figure out which night it would be, someone a little more experienced with star reading than he is. He put the word out that he was looking for a weapon that would be effective against sirens and the Sword of Odysseus came up; we raided one of his storage units to find something he could barter with, and the trade was made." Grinning, she shrugged when she said, "I don't know anything about sword fighting. We were trained on guns, you know. Dad got a guy to train me just days before the sirens' spawn date."
Sam, scoffing, commented sarcastically, "Dad couldn't come himself?"
"That's a nice thing to say after I saved your ass."
Sitting up, Sam shook his head. "You know it's true, Deanne. He sends you to save me because he can't be bothered to do it himself."
"You know it's not like that, Sammy! The last time you and Dad talked - "
"Oh, we talked. It's more like we screamed at each other."
She tried to continue, partially speaking over him. "The last time you and Dad said anything to each other, it was a big fight about you leaving for college. Things are really awkward between you. Because of that, he thought it would be better if I came alone. But Dad is here in spirit. He engineered the whole thing."
"What a surprise," mumbled Sam, rolling his eyes. "You guys knew Jessica was going to betray me, you knew, and you couldn't call me and let me know?"
"Like you would have taken my call," Deanne replied.
Sam let out a heavy breath, shaking his head again.
"Look, Sammy, we thought we were going to have a couple of days until the spawning. This woman that Dad hired was a little off in her calculations. I was supposed to blow into town and take care of Jessica before all her cronies got here. But it didn't work out that way.
"What does it matter? Sure, it was a close call, but I got here in time and we're okay. That's all that really matters." Deanne ruffled Sam's hair, running her hand down to the back of his neck and stroking her fingers through the fuzz there.
Sighing, Sam's shoulders slumped and he gave in, temporarily falling silent. "What do we do now?" he eventually asked quietly.
"We try to get a decent night's sleep and figure it out in the morning."
Back at the motel, Deanne steered her brother toward the bathroom so he could shower, washing off all the siren's blood. Sam stood in the shower with his hands on the wall and let the hot water flow over his body until it ran clear. His pants had been rinsed and draped over the shower curtain rod; Sam wasn't even sure he wanted to save them at this point. Even if they could get all the stains out of them, they would be a constant reminder of the worst night of his life. Sam allowed the water to run over his hair and face and barely moved for several minutes, eyes closed, just trying to make himself accept that all this had really happened.
While her brother took his long, drawn out shower, Deanne changed into a sleeveless undershirt and pajama shorts before calling their dad. By the time Sam finally got out, she was jotting down notes, her green eyes troubled.
Sam sat down on the bed that was still made; Deanne had obviously claimed the other one. He couldn't help but look at her bare legs, her breasts in the tight shirt, nipples pressing against the ribbed fabric... Jessica slept in the same sorts of things.
Had slept.
He looked away, feeling a bit ashamed for looking at her.
"Okay. Okay, Dad, sure. Talk to you in the morning." Deanne hung up. She glanced over at Sam, sitting on the bed in just a towel. "I don't think I have anything for you to wear."
"It's okay. What's left of my clothes are drying off in the bathroom." He looked down at the towel around his waist. "We've got lotsa towels."
"But, what are you going to wear in the morning?" Deanne sighed. "I guess I could go by your apartment and get you something."
"Yeah," was Sam's only reply. His apartment. The apartment he shared with... a lump formed in his throat.
"Um, Sammy... you've got a decision to make tomorrow. After we get you situated, I have to take off."
"What's going on?"
"It seems we were tricked." Deanne referred to the notes she'd jotted down. "At least, that's what Dad thinks. A few hours after I left yesterday, Dad and Bobby were rearranging the storage space that we'd been in to find something to barter with, and they were ambushed by sirens."
Sam sat up a little straighter, alarmed. "Are they okay?"
"Yes, they're alright. But the bitches stole something from the storage space, and Dad has a theory about it."
"What?"
"He thinks that this woman they've been working with gave us the wrong spawning date on purpose. Maybe she wanted me out of the way long enough for her to carry out her plan. She knew if I walked into a warehouse full of horny sirens, I wouldn't be coming back tonight. Maybe she even hoped we'd both be killed."
Sam, considering that, nodded silently.
Deanne continued. "The sirens who attacked Dad and Bobby were from the same clan as the Jessica triplets. They must've gone rogue, betraying their own. I mean, they should have been there tonight, dying right alongside her, but - " She paused when she saw Sam cringe. "I'm sorry."
Sam looked down at the floor, studying the carpet as he attempted to gain control of his emotions. "The woman offered them something they couldn't refuse?" he finally said, trying to focus on something else.
"Could be. Something had to be worth helping this chick and letting their sisters die," Deanne said with a shrug.
Sam nodded again. "What did they steal?"
Consulting her notes, she answered, "An item Dad referred to as The Law."
"The Law? What is it?"
Deanne shrugged again. "I dunno. Some kind of box. After he and Bobby put the storage space back in order, they're going after the sirens. They gotta put a protection spell over all the stuff that's left. Dad wants us... uh, me... to head in the other direction so we can cover more ground. He says this object is very important. We've got to get it back."
"So, this is what I've got to decide. Right? You want me to go with you?" Sam sighed.
Deanne, acting as if she was indifferent to his decision, said, "I just think it'd be better for you to be around your family right now. For all we know, the rest of the sirens could come back for you." His sister stopped there, not wanting to bring up how worried she was about his mental state after his entire life had been torn apart. Deanne couldn't have articulated why, but she felt she couldn't let him know just how badly she needed her brother to come with her.
"I don't know. I have a whole life here. School, ah..." Sam started to name more of these urgent life things that he needed to take care of, but he instantly realized that they all revolved around Jessica. His mouth opened and closed on unspoken words. "I... I'll have to think about it."
"Well, think fast, because we've got to go after this thing in the morning. Dad doesn't think that she'll be able to move it very fast; it's a pretty powerful and volatile religious artifact," Deanne revealed.
"What is it?" Sam asked again, curious for further clarification.
"I told you, it's a box called The Law."
He looked at her for a short time before shaking his head and making a disapproving sound. "You're going to go running after this thing just because Dad tells you to, and you don't even know what it is."
She glared at him, irritated with his neurotic need to always question everything their father did. "I don't need to know everything about it. All I need to know is that we have to get it back."
Sam rolled his eyes.
To demonstrate that she knew more than he thought, Deanne started to rattle off information about the artifact. "It's a box covered with cloths and there are these rings on the side of it that you put these poles through so you can carry it without touching it. Dad said we shouldn't even really look at it. Just leave the cloths on it and carry it by the poles. I trust him to know what he's talking about."
"Wait, we can't even look at it or touch it?"
"Dad didn't think we should take the chance."
"What the fuck is it?" Sam asked again, more insistantly than ever before.
Deanne just shrugged once more. "Whatever it is, the Catholic church wants it. Dad was going to deliver it to the Archdio... the Arc..."
"The Archdiocese?"
"Yeah, those guys. He was going to deliver it to them in Boston next week. They were pretty upset when they heard it had been stolen. The head of the exchange, Father Calero, warned Dad that one of his underlings took it upon himself to head out here without permission in pursuit of the people who stole The Law. He's apparently rather overemotional and does these kinds of rash things all the time. I guess this box is really important to him. We're supposed to look out for the guy and send him home if we encounter him."
Sam nodded in understanding. "What's the guy's name?"
Consulting her notes again, Deanne answered, "Father Paul. Paul Callan."
"Oh. And do we know who the woman is who probably engineered this whole thing?"
"Yeah. Her name is Bela Talbot."
*****
Deanne's first indication that it was starting again was when she decided to be a little playful with her mopey brother and dry off his hair a little. They were about to get some sleep, as Dad had instructed, and Sam had grown very quiet, just sitting on his bed. Deanne turned off the light in the bathroom and came over with the extra towel in her hand.
"Dad always says don't go to bed with wet hair, you'll catch a cold." She threw the towel over her brother's head and started to rub it vigorously through his hair, chuckling.
He batted at her hands until he could get the towel off his face so he could see, but allowed her to continue drying his hair. When she stopped, looking down at him and snickering, Sam suddenly embraced her around the waist and put his head against her stomach with a whimper. Deanne didn't question it, just began to stroke his hair soothingly.
"I know, Sammy," she said in a soft voice. "I know it hurts. Shhhh."
This is how it had always been. Deanne taking care of Sammy. That's the way it is supposed to be with siblings; the older ones look after the younger ones. At least, that's what Dad always said.
"No matter what, you're stuck with your family, Deanne," he'd said to her once. "And you better be damn grateful for it. They're the only ones who will put up with you when you act like a fool and the only ones who'll support you even when they think you'll fail. You take care of family, girl. They were given to you for a reason. Don't forget it."
Deanne had been damn grateful for her father and brother many times. But sometimes, she wondered if she was really understanding what it meant to take care of them. If she sometimes took it too far.
Great Uncle Eddie used to talk about family, too. Mom's uncle. She and Sammy used to stay with him a lot during their childhood while Dad was off hunting and they were too young to take care of themselves. Great Uncle Eddie and Aunt Maureen, an older couple, harmless and amiable. They never asked John too many questions, something he could always work with.
Uncle Eddie had talked about family a lot, and the things you do for people you love. Now that she was older, Deanne realized there were supposed to be limits to what children had to do for their elders, no matter what Uncle Eddie had said, and limits to how far she had to go to fulfill her duty as Sammy's elder sister. Making her heart, and her damaged psyche, understand that was a different matter.
Confused about boundaries and left alone together for long periods, the two siblings had experimented in their teenage years. For years, Deanne had only let it go so far, but she still learned a great deal about boys and how to keep them happy, how to shut them up, and how to make them do almost anything she wanted. Sometimes, as it was tonight, it was about comforting Sammy, he who had always been maybe a little too sensitive, a little too emotional, for his own good.
Deanne's lessons translated just as well to men as they did boys, over the years. Now that Sam was a man, and they had been mostly apart for four years, she sometimes wondered if he would still need her like he did when they were kids. If Jessica was still alive, if all this hadn't happened, Deanne figured he probably wouldn't.
But Jessica had turned out to be a fraud. Deanne expected to fall back into her time-honored role of taking care of her brother. She just didn't expect the intensity of his need.
It was like riding a bike. Deanne felt Sammy's fingers on her hip, running under the hem of her shirt, and even though it had been four years, she fell right back into it.
"How could she pretend to love me, Deanne?" Sam asked, his voice heavy with tears. He slowly pushed her shirt up halfway, rubbing his face into her bare stomach. She didn't know exactly when he'd started crying, just that Sam had begun to sniffle and his tears now wet her skin. "How does someone pretend a thing like that for such a long time?"
"Well, she wasn't human, Sammy," Deanne said softly. She gently stroked his dark hair, amused with how hard it was to smooth down every layer; each time she thought she had his wild locks tamed, another cowlick would pop up.
Sam possessively squeezed her to him and planted a small kiss on her stomach, just above her navel. "She didn't seem like a monster," he commented, then added, "You smell like her."
Deanne nodded. "They're very good at appearing human."
For a moment, Sam just breathed in her scent before raising his head to look at her. "You would never only pretend to love me, would you?"
Deanne, smiling, shook her head. "I could never fake a thing like that."
"So you do love me?"
Using her most soothing tone, a tone she rarely had reason to use, Deanne smiled down at him and assured, "Of course I do."
Sam made a whimpery sound and hugged her to him again. A few seconds after, he looked up at her once more, tears streaming down his face. Deanne wiped them away with her thumbs. "Don't cry, Sammy," she whispered. She didn't really expect him to stop, just felt she should say something; those words were as good as any.
He looked at her silently a moment longer, then slid his hand up her stomach, waiting only a few seconds to see if she'd stop him. Sam had always done this, lingering, caressing the spot just under her breasts, touching a spot just outside of the danger zone to make sure Deanne wasn't going to smack his hand as she sometimes did. Sometimes, it was in jest.
This time, she did not hit him. Even to kid.
Deanne had been giving of her body for her family for as long as she could remember. She knew it wasn't appropriate for them to still be doing this at their age, but everything inside her screamed that Sammy needed this, and if it would end his pain, at least for the time being, she would do it.
Feeling that he had been given a green light, Sam pushed up her shirt, revealing her breasts. They didn't speak to each other much during these little trysts, especially as they got older - almost everything was said through body language. Deanne kept smiling, so Sam leaned in and put his mouth over one of her nipples, sucking lightly with his lips. When she shivered from the first shockwave of pleasure that ran up her back, Sam opened his mouth a little more and sucked harder, running his tongue over the warm, rigid nipple.
For a couple of minutes, he moved from one breast to the other, sucking each one until Deanne's nipples stood out hard and red. Her lips parted, her mouth going a little dry; she tried not to make any noise although her body cried out for at least a small moan. Sam surprised her by grabbing Deanne's behind and squeezing it in both his hands. Deanne couldn't help but let out a brief, unready sound. Not wasting any time, he slipped his fingers under the elastic banding of her panties and pushed up on it, fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass. Deanne, making another surprised noise, spread her legs slightly apart. Sam teased with his fingers but only traced the skin around the entrance to her before moving his hand up to the waistband of her underwear and pulling it down. Deanne involuntarily trembled all over again in anticipation of where she knew this was headed.
Sam leaned down, bringing his head close to her crotch. He licked inbetween the lips of her pussy and, not finding her clit at first, went in for another, more aggressive lick. Deanne moaned in spite of herself at the first touch of his tongue, but when he went in for a second, deeper taste of her, she breathed out a choked cry and braced herself on his shoulders when her knees went weak.
The fact that she was deriving pleasure out of this made Deanne chastise herself inwardly. To take away Sammy's pain, that was just her duty. To take pleasure in being touched by her little brother, that was depraved. But, he wanted her to feel good; he liked hearing her moan in pleasure. The inner conflict might someday tear Deanne apart.
Sam suddenly grabbed Deanne by the waist and spun her around, throwing her across the bed. She squealed in surprise. The sound from her own lips embarrassed her; she didn't make girly noises like that. Deanne didn't have long to focus on this as Sam's weight settled on top of her. His mouth went to her neck, his breath heavy in her ear. She felt the towel brushing her legs and his strong, muscular thighs pushing hers apart. Deanne's mind almost locked up in shock as she felt the head of her brother's cock entering her channel; she tensed up and let out a gasp.
"Sammy!" Deanne cried, alarmed. There had only been one time before when she allowed the sex to go this far, only one time that Sam had penetrated her, leaving her heart heavy and her inner voices screaming at her in regret. That had been the night before Sam left for college.
His face crumpling to tears, Sam begged in her ear, "Please please please, please please..." He was crying again, sobbing hard this time. The sound ripped Deanne's heart to bits.
"Sammy... oh, Sammy, don't cry..." She choked back tears herself from just hearing him in pain. Before she could rethink it, Deanne wrapped her legs around Sam's waist and squeezed, pushing him down and inside her.
Sam took a hard, hitching breath that was half gasp and then moaned, "Deanne!" He didn't move, just felt himself inside her, for a few seconds before instinct took over and he began to thrust with his hips. Arching her back, Deanne buried her head into the covers with her mouth open in a throaty moan, thighs quaking. Sammy had grown stronger in four years, more built and muscular; his thrusts drove into her like a jackhammer, already slick with her juices. She wasn't supposed to enjoy it this much. It wasn't supposed to feel this good. It wasn't right. But Sam had grown up and filled out, and he was good, damn good at it. Deanne couldn't help but spread her legs further apart and allow him in to the hilt. She kept her eyes closed.
By the time Sammy came inside her, panting in her ear, she had already cum twice. Most guys had to flick at her clitoris with feverish fingers to get her even close, but he hadn't had to touch her there at all, not during the sex. Against her better instincts, Deanne had let Sam stay inside her all the way to the end not because she felt obligated to, but because she'd wanted him to. Cumming hard and good, shaking all over and moaning shrilly, these should not be options, and Deanne knew she'd be mentally punishing herself for this later. The only thing she could feel relieved over was the fact that she was on the pill.
And, there was Sammy, alive and currently not in pain, except for the sting of her nails in his muscular back. That was something she could be thankful for. Deanne started to move when she became aware that she was lying in a pool of her own juices. No, there weren't many who could make her that wet, bring her off that hard. And Deanne had had many.
Sam momentarily stopped her, kissing her neck twice, then placing a soft, gentle peck on her mouth. "I love you too, Deanne," he said.
She wondered how he meant it. "Let's sleep now, okay? Get under the covers?"
He took his weight off her then, and they got under the sheets. On one hand, she would have preferred he get into the other bed; on the other, Deanne wanted him next to her just so she'd know he was safe after four years of worrying about him, not being able to protect him. Not being able to touch him.
Sam, always a little clingy unless he was mad at her, wrapped his arms around Deanne and laid his head on top of her right breast. When they were teens, this is how he'd always preferred to sleep after they'd fooled around, naked or not, possessive and snug. Back then, Deanne had always spent the time between being awake and falling asleep worrying that John might come home and find them like that, and what he would think. Dad never did come home.
She still worried what he'd think.
*****
The red eye to California. Father Paul Callan would be there in only a few hours, and then maybe he could still the growing panic in his chest.
Father Calero, Poppi to him, trusted these people. This ragtag band of "hunters," as they called themselves. Paul could no longer trust them. They had lost it. They had lost The Law. The Word, the fundamental law, and they had been keeping it in a storage space like an old couch covered in chili stains and cigarette holes, they had just allowed it to slip away, how, how, how could anyone do that? Paul had to make sure it was found and returned, treated as precious as it was.
Poppi didn't want him to go, but no one could stop him, not even Poppi. He was afraid these people who had stolen The Law would hurt Paul. Paul knew that didn't matter. All that mattered was the word of God. He would gladly sacrifice his life for it.
In the four hours since Paul had left the church, Poppi had called him six times. At first, just wanting to know where he had disappeared to, then saying if Paul was considering going to California, it wasn't necessary, he shouldn't go by himself, and finally pleading with him not to take off all half cocked.
"These people are professionals, Paul. Let them take care of it. I'm going to California in the morning to oversee this thing. You stay here," he'd said in his last call.
Yeah, professionals. That's why the most important religious artifact in history was now in the hands of some two-bit thief.
Control your anger, Paul. Anger is not good. Anger leads to hate, hate leads to darkness. What is this, Star Wars? Focus. Control is fleeting to mere mortals. Prayer. Give it up to God.
As he stood in line waiting to get on the plane, Paul began to pray to himself, to keep himself focused and bring him back to center. He didn't notice the people in line behind him, three persons back. A man, dark brown hair, sharp European features and striking blue eyes, and a woman, Puerto Rican, with long curly hair and softly arcing eyebrows.
For an observant man, Paul hadn't even noticed them... but they'd been following him for months.
Other author's notes included with the final version.
Story 2 in the Little Black Spot series
Supernatural/Miracles AU
Girl!Dean/Sam
Rated NC-17
Originally, this story was going to be platonic Girl!Dean and Sam and no "Miracles." Damn muses. I just can't keep Dean and Paul apart even when Dean is Deanne. Strange since there's no chance of them actually getting together. Still my OTP, though.
Backup, unbeta'ed
Warning: Graphic sex, consensual incest, brief mention of past childhood sexual abuse
I don't advocate incest and think that most incest is far more emotionally damaging than what will be in this story. It is the unique relationship between Sam and Dean that makes any of this possible in my head. But for the record, I didn't want to write the story this way. Real life incest sickens me. I'm just following what the muses demand and seeing where the challenge takes me.
Challenges: City at night, storm, need
Title comes from The Police "King of Pain"
Deanne found the quiet of a city at this time of night to be calming after a big hunt. After the blood and the screaming of dying beasts, the neon lights of a Vacancy sign, especially when seen through a wall of rain, formed everything that she knew of normal. Deanne watched the fast food places, the chain restaurants, and the car dealerships go by as she drove the highway with her brother's head on her shoulder, listening to the windshield wipers, swish clunk swish clunk, and tried to just allow herself to relax. It had been a tense evening.
Usually, she'd be all riled up and set for some action after a hunt like that, but there was Sammy to think of, and his mental state. His reaction had alarmed Deanne. It shouldn't have surprised her too much; after all, Sam had found out that his girlfriend had betrayed him and lost her in the span of an hour. But still, it wasn't like him to become so violent. Maybe a lot had changed in four years.
The lights and signs of the McDonalds, the Carls Jr.'s, the Outback Steakhouse restaurants, the familiarity of it all going by, distorted through a wavery sheet of water, had lulled Deanne into believing that her quiet brother had gone to sleep. She was absently studying the form of the golden arches as they rippled across the windshield when Sam spoke, nearly scaring her out of her seat and through the roof of the Impala.
"How'd you know I was in danger, Deanne?"
"God, Sammy, you nearly scared me out of my skin. Don't do that, okay?"
Sam persisted. "How'd you know I was in danger?"
Rolling her eyes, Deanne replied, "You just can't wait until we get to the motel, huh? Alright. You remember that picture you sent me through e-mail? The one of you and Jessica? I downloaded it onto my phone and at some point, showed it to Dad. Lookit, Dad, it's Sammy's girlfriend. 'What the hell,' he says, 'I killed that bitch ?? years ago.' Dad recognized her. She was the head of a siren clan, along with her two sisters."
Sam took it all in. "They all look alike?"
"Triplets," Deanne confirmed with a nod.
"Then..." She heard her brother take a deep breath. "...then there's one more out there."
"Yeah," Deanne said. "Unless someone else killed her ass. But if not, yeah, there's another Jessica-clone out there."
Sam grew quiet, unreadable, staring out into the rain.
Because he'd asked for the whole story, Deanne continued. "Dad thought that she was going to use you for the annual spawn as revenge for him killing her sister, and he was right. Our dad has amazing instincts, huh? I mean, I know you aren't really talking to him, but you gotta give the guy props. Anyway, each clan has their own night each year when they get busy, so Dad called in some woman to figure out which night it would be, someone a little more experienced with star reading than he is. He put the word out that he was looking for a weapon that would be effective against sirens and the Sword of Odysseus came up; we raided one of his storage units to find something he could barter with, and the trade was made." Grinning, she shrugged when she said, "I don't know anything about sword fighting. We were trained on guns, you know. Dad got a guy to train me just days before the sirens' spawn date."
Sam, scoffing, commented sarcastically, "Dad couldn't come himself?"
"That's a nice thing to say after I saved your ass."
Sitting up, Sam shook his head. "You know it's true, Deanne. He sends you to save me because he can't be bothered to do it himself."
"You know it's not like that, Sammy! The last time you and Dad talked - "
"Oh, we talked. It's more like we screamed at each other."
She tried to continue, partially speaking over him. "The last time you and Dad said anything to each other, it was a big fight about you leaving for college. Things are really awkward between you. Because of that, he thought it would be better if I came alone. But Dad is here in spirit. He engineered the whole thing."
"What a surprise," mumbled Sam, rolling his eyes. "You guys knew Jessica was going to betray me, you knew, and you couldn't call me and let me know?"
"Like you would have taken my call," Deanne replied.
Sam let out a heavy breath, shaking his head again.
"Look, Sammy, we thought we were going to have a couple of days until the spawning. This woman that Dad hired was a little off in her calculations. I was supposed to blow into town and take care of Jessica before all her cronies got here. But it didn't work out that way.
"What does it matter? Sure, it was a close call, but I got here in time and we're okay. That's all that really matters." Deanne ruffled Sam's hair, running her hand down to the back of his neck and stroking her fingers through the fuzz there.
Sighing, Sam's shoulders slumped and he gave in, temporarily falling silent. "What do we do now?" he eventually asked quietly.
"We try to get a decent night's sleep and figure it out in the morning."
Back at the motel, Deanne steered her brother toward the bathroom so he could shower, washing off all the siren's blood. Sam stood in the shower with his hands on the wall and let the hot water flow over his body until it ran clear. His pants had been rinsed and draped over the shower curtain rod; Sam wasn't even sure he wanted to save them at this point. Even if they could get all the stains out of them, they would be a constant reminder of the worst night of his life. Sam allowed the water to run over his hair and face and barely moved for several minutes, eyes closed, just trying to make himself accept that all this had really happened.
While her brother took his long, drawn out shower, Deanne changed into a sleeveless undershirt and pajama shorts before calling their dad. By the time Sam finally got out, she was jotting down notes, her green eyes troubled.
Sam sat down on the bed that was still made; Deanne had obviously claimed the other one. He couldn't help but look at her bare legs, her breasts in the tight shirt, nipples pressing against the ribbed fabric... Jessica slept in the same sorts of things.
Had slept.
He looked away, feeling a bit ashamed for looking at her.
"Okay. Okay, Dad, sure. Talk to you in the morning." Deanne hung up. She glanced over at Sam, sitting on the bed in just a towel. "I don't think I have anything for you to wear."
"It's okay. What's left of my clothes are drying off in the bathroom." He looked down at the towel around his waist. "We've got lotsa towels."
"But, what are you going to wear in the morning?" Deanne sighed. "I guess I could go by your apartment and get you something."
"Yeah," was Sam's only reply. His apartment. The apartment he shared with... a lump formed in his throat.
"Um, Sammy... you've got a decision to make tomorrow. After we get you situated, I have to take off."
"What's going on?"
"It seems we were tricked." Deanne referred to the notes she'd jotted down. "At least, that's what Dad thinks. A few hours after I left yesterday, Dad and Bobby were rearranging the storage space that we'd been in to find something to barter with, and they were ambushed by sirens."
Sam sat up a little straighter, alarmed. "Are they okay?"
"Yes, they're alright. But the bitches stole something from the storage space, and Dad has a theory about it."
"What?"
"He thinks that this woman they've been working with gave us the wrong spawning date on purpose. Maybe she wanted me out of the way long enough for her to carry out her plan. She knew if I walked into a warehouse full of horny sirens, I wouldn't be coming back tonight. Maybe she even hoped we'd both be killed."
Sam, considering that, nodded silently.
Deanne continued. "The sirens who attacked Dad and Bobby were from the same clan as the Jessica triplets. They must've gone rogue, betraying their own. I mean, they should have been there tonight, dying right alongside her, but - " She paused when she saw Sam cringe. "I'm sorry."
Sam looked down at the floor, studying the carpet as he attempted to gain control of his emotions. "The woman offered them something they couldn't refuse?" he finally said, trying to focus on something else.
"Could be. Something had to be worth helping this chick and letting their sisters die," Deanne said with a shrug.
Sam nodded again. "What did they steal?"
Consulting her notes, she answered, "An item Dad referred to as The Law."
"The Law? What is it?"
Deanne shrugged again. "I dunno. Some kind of box. After he and Bobby put the storage space back in order, they're going after the sirens. They gotta put a protection spell over all the stuff that's left. Dad wants us... uh, me... to head in the other direction so we can cover more ground. He says this object is very important. We've got to get it back."
"So, this is what I've got to decide. Right? You want me to go with you?" Sam sighed.
Deanne, acting as if she was indifferent to his decision, said, "I just think it'd be better for you to be around your family right now. For all we know, the rest of the sirens could come back for you." His sister stopped there, not wanting to bring up how worried she was about his mental state after his entire life had been torn apart. Deanne couldn't have articulated why, but she felt she couldn't let him know just how badly she needed her brother to come with her.
"I don't know. I have a whole life here. School, ah..." Sam started to name more of these urgent life things that he needed to take care of, but he instantly realized that they all revolved around Jessica. His mouth opened and closed on unspoken words. "I... I'll have to think about it."
"Well, think fast, because we've got to go after this thing in the morning. Dad doesn't think that she'll be able to move it very fast; it's a pretty powerful and volatile religious artifact," Deanne revealed.
"What is it?" Sam asked again, curious for further clarification.
"I told you, it's a box called The Law."
He looked at her for a short time before shaking his head and making a disapproving sound. "You're going to go running after this thing just because Dad tells you to, and you don't even know what it is."
She glared at him, irritated with his neurotic need to always question everything their father did. "I don't need to know everything about it. All I need to know is that we have to get it back."
Sam rolled his eyes.
To demonstrate that she knew more than he thought, Deanne started to rattle off information about the artifact. "It's a box covered with cloths and there are these rings on the side of it that you put these poles through so you can carry it without touching it. Dad said we shouldn't even really look at it. Just leave the cloths on it and carry it by the poles. I trust him to know what he's talking about."
"Wait, we can't even look at it or touch it?"
"Dad didn't think we should take the chance."
"What the fuck is it?" Sam asked again, more insistantly than ever before.
Deanne just shrugged once more. "Whatever it is, the Catholic church wants it. Dad was going to deliver it to the Archdio... the Arc..."
"The Archdiocese?"
"Yeah, those guys. He was going to deliver it to them in Boston next week. They were pretty upset when they heard it had been stolen. The head of the exchange, Father Calero, warned Dad that one of his underlings took it upon himself to head out here without permission in pursuit of the people who stole The Law. He's apparently rather overemotional and does these kinds of rash things all the time. I guess this box is really important to him. We're supposed to look out for the guy and send him home if we encounter him."
Sam nodded in understanding. "What's the guy's name?"
Consulting her notes again, Deanne answered, "Father Paul. Paul Callan."
"Oh. And do we know who the woman is who probably engineered this whole thing?"
"Yeah. Her name is Bela Talbot."
*****
Deanne's first indication that it was starting again was when she decided to be a little playful with her mopey brother and dry off his hair a little. They were about to get some sleep, as Dad had instructed, and Sam had grown very quiet, just sitting on his bed. Deanne turned off the light in the bathroom and came over with the extra towel in her hand.
"Dad always says don't go to bed with wet hair, you'll catch a cold." She threw the towel over her brother's head and started to rub it vigorously through his hair, chuckling.
He batted at her hands until he could get the towel off his face so he could see, but allowed her to continue drying his hair. When she stopped, looking down at him and snickering, Sam suddenly embraced her around the waist and put his head against her stomach with a whimper. Deanne didn't question it, just began to stroke his hair soothingly.
"I know, Sammy," she said in a soft voice. "I know it hurts. Shhhh."
This is how it had always been. Deanne taking care of Sammy. That's the way it is supposed to be with siblings; the older ones look after the younger ones. At least, that's what Dad always said.
"No matter what, you're stuck with your family, Deanne," he'd said to her once. "And you better be damn grateful for it. They're the only ones who will put up with you when you act like a fool and the only ones who'll support you even when they think you'll fail. You take care of family, girl. They were given to you for a reason. Don't forget it."
Deanne had been damn grateful for her father and brother many times. But sometimes, she wondered if she was really understanding what it meant to take care of them. If she sometimes took it too far.
Great Uncle Eddie used to talk about family, too. Mom's uncle. She and Sammy used to stay with him a lot during their childhood while Dad was off hunting and they were too young to take care of themselves. Great Uncle Eddie and Aunt Maureen, an older couple, harmless and amiable. They never asked John too many questions, something he could always work with.
Uncle Eddie had talked about family a lot, and the things you do for people you love. Now that she was older, Deanne realized there were supposed to be limits to what children had to do for their elders, no matter what Uncle Eddie had said, and limits to how far she had to go to fulfill her duty as Sammy's elder sister. Making her heart, and her damaged psyche, understand that was a different matter.
Confused about boundaries and left alone together for long periods, the two siblings had experimented in their teenage years. For years, Deanne had only let it go so far, but she still learned a great deal about boys and how to keep them happy, how to shut them up, and how to make them do almost anything she wanted. Sometimes, as it was tonight, it was about comforting Sammy, he who had always been maybe a little too sensitive, a little too emotional, for his own good.
Deanne's lessons translated just as well to men as they did boys, over the years. Now that Sam was a man, and they had been mostly apart for four years, she sometimes wondered if he would still need her like he did when they were kids. If Jessica was still alive, if all this hadn't happened, Deanne figured he probably wouldn't.
But Jessica had turned out to be a fraud. Deanne expected to fall back into her time-honored role of taking care of her brother. She just didn't expect the intensity of his need.
It was like riding a bike. Deanne felt Sammy's fingers on her hip, running under the hem of her shirt, and even though it had been four years, she fell right back into it.
"How could she pretend to love me, Deanne?" Sam asked, his voice heavy with tears. He slowly pushed her shirt up halfway, rubbing his face into her bare stomach. She didn't know exactly when he'd started crying, just that Sam had begun to sniffle and his tears now wet her skin. "How does someone pretend a thing like that for such a long time?"
"Well, she wasn't human, Sammy," Deanne said softly. She gently stroked his dark hair, amused with how hard it was to smooth down every layer; each time she thought she had his wild locks tamed, another cowlick would pop up.
Sam possessively squeezed her to him and planted a small kiss on her stomach, just above her navel. "She didn't seem like a monster," he commented, then added, "You smell like her."
Deanne nodded. "They're very good at appearing human."
For a moment, Sam just breathed in her scent before raising his head to look at her. "You would never only pretend to love me, would you?"
Deanne, smiling, shook her head. "I could never fake a thing like that."
"So you do love me?"
Using her most soothing tone, a tone she rarely had reason to use, Deanne smiled down at him and assured, "Of course I do."
Sam made a whimpery sound and hugged her to him again. A few seconds after, he looked up at her once more, tears streaming down his face. Deanne wiped them away with her thumbs. "Don't cry, Sammy," she whispered. She didn't really expect him to stop, just felt she should say something; those words were as good as any.
He looked at her silently a moment longer, then slid his hand up her stomach, waiting only a few seconds to see if she'd stop him. Sam had always done this, lingering, caressing the spot just under her breasts, touching a spot just outside of the danger zone to make sure Deanne wasn't going to smack his hand as she sometimes did. Sometimes, it was in jest.
This time, she did not hit him. Even to kid.
Deanne had been giving of her body for her family for as long as she could remember. She knew it wasn't appropriate for them to still be doing this at their age, but everything inside her screamed that Sammy needed this, and if it would end his pain, at least for the time being, she would do it.
Feeling that he had been given a green light, Sam pushed up her shirt, revealing her breasts. They didn't speak to each other much during these little trysts, especially as they got older - almost everything was said through body language. Deanne kept smiling, so Sam leaned in and put his mouth over one of her nipples, sucking lightly with his lips. When she shivered from the first shockwave of pleasure that ran up her back, Sam opened his mouth a little more and sucked harder, running his tongue over the warm, rigid nipple.
For a couple of minutes, he moved from one breast to the other, sucking each one until Deanne's nipples stood out hard and red. Her lips parted, her mouth going a little dry; she tried not to make any noise although her body cried out for at least a small moan. Sam surprised her by grabbing Deanne's behind and squeezing it in both his hands. Deanne couldn't help but let out a brief, unready sound. Not wasting any time, he slipped his fingers under the elastic banding of her panties and pushed up on it, fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass. Deanne, making another surprised noise, spread her legs slightly apart. Sam teased with his fingers but only traced the skin around the entrance to her before moving his hand up to the waistband of her underwear and pulling it down. Deanne involuntarily trembled all over again in anticipation of where she knew this was headed.
Sam leaned down, bringing his head close to her crotch. He licked inbetween the lips of her pussy and, not finding her clit at first, went in for another, more aggressive lick. Deanne moaned in spite of herself at the first touch of his tongue, but when he went in for a second, deeper taste of her, she breathed out a choked cry and braced herself on his shoulders when her knees went weak.
The fact that she was deriving pleasure out of this made Deanne chastise herself inwardly. To take away Sammy's pain, that was just her duty. To take pleasure in being touched by her little brother, that was depraved. But, he wanted her to feel good; he liked hearing her moan in pleasure. The inner conflict might someday tear Deanne apart.
Sam suddenly grabbed Deanne by the waist and spun her around, throwing her across the bed. She squealed in surprise. The sound from her own lips embarrassed her; she didn't make girly noises like that. Deanne didn't have long to focus on this as Sam's weight settled on top of her. His mouth went to her neck, his breath heavy in her ear. She felt the towel brushing her legs and his strong, muscular thighs pushing hers apart. Deanne's mind almost locked up in shock as she felt the head of her brother's cock entering her channel; she tensed up and let out a gasp.
"Sammy!" Deanne cried, alarmed. There had only been one time before when she allowed the sex to go this far, only one time that Sam had penetrated her, leaving her heart heavy and her inner voices screaming at her in regret. That had been the night before Sam left for college.
His face crumpling to tears, Sam begged in her ear, "Please please please, please please..." He was crying again, sobbing hard this time. The sound ripped Deanne's heart to bits.
"Sammy... oh, Sammy, don't cry..." She choked back tears herself from just hearing him in pain. Before she could rethink it, Deanne wrapped her legs around Sam's waist and squeezed, pushing him down and inside her.
Sam took a hard, hitching breath that was half gasp and then moaned, "Deanne!" He didn't move, just felt himself inside her, for a few seconds before instinct took over and he began to thrust with his hips. Arching her back, Deanne buried her head into the covers with her mouth open in a throaty moan, thighs quaking. Sammy had grown stronger in four years, more built and muscular; his thrusts drove into her like a jackhammer, already slick with her juices. She wasn't supposed to enjoy it this much. It wasn't supposed to feel this good. It wasn't right. But Sam had grown up and filled out, and he was good, damn good at it. Deanne couldn't help but spread her legs further apart and allow him in to the hilt. She kept her eyes closed.
By the time Sammy came inside her, panting in her ear, she had already cum twice. Most guys had to flick at her clitoris with feverish fingers to get her even close, but he hadn't had to touch her there at all, not during the sex. Against her better instincts, Deanne had let Sam stay inside her all the way to the end not because she felt obligated to, but because she'd wanted him to. Cumming hard and good, shaking all over and moaning shrilly, these should not be options, and Deanne knew she'd be mentally punishing herself for this later. The only thing she could feel relieved over was the fact that she was on the pill.
And, there was Sammy, alive and currently not in pain, except for the sting of her nails in his muscular back. That was something she could be thankful for. Deanne started to move when she became aware that she was lying in a pool of her own juices. No, there weren't many who could make her that wet, bring her off that hard. And Deanne had had many.
Sam momentarily stopped her, kissing her neck twice, then placing a soft, gentle peck on her mouth. "I love you too, Deanne," he said.
She wondered how he meant it. "Let's sleep now, okay? Get under the covers?"
He took his weight off her then, and they got under the sheets. On one hand, she would have preferred he get into the other bed; on the other, Deanne wanted him next to her just so she'd know he was safe after four years of worrying about him, not being able to protect him. Not being able to touch him.
Sam, always a little clingy unless he was mad at her, wrapped his arms around Deanne and laid his head on top of her right breast. When they were teens, this is how he'd always preferred to sleep after they'd fooled around, naked or not, possessive and snug. Back then, Deanne had always spent the time between being awake and falling asleep worrying that John might come home and find them like that, and what he would think. Dad never did come home.
She still worried what he'd think.
*****
The red eye to California. Father Paul Callan would be there in only a few hours, and then maybe he could still the growing panic in his chest.
Father Calero, Poppi to him, trusted these people. This ragtag band of "hunters," as they called themselves. Paul could no longer trust them. They had lost it. They had lost The Law. The Word, the fundamental law, and they had been keeping it in a storage space like an old couch covered in chili stains and cigarette holes, they had just allowed it to slip away, how, how, how could anyone do that? Paul had to make sure it was found and returned, treated as precious as it was.
Poppi didn't want him to go, but no one could stop him, not even Poppi. He was afraid these people who had stolen The Law would hurt Paul. Paul knew that didn't matter. All that mattered was the word of God. He would gladly sacrifice his life for it.
In the four hours since Paul had left the church, Poppi had called him six times. At first, just wanting to know where he had disappeared to, then saying if Paul was considering going to California, it wasn't necessary, he shouldn't go by himself, and finally pleading with him not to take off all half cocked.
"These people are professionals, Paul. Let them take care of it. I'm going to California in the morning to oversee this thing. You stay here," he'd said in his last call.
Yeah, professionals. That's why the most important religious artifact in history was now in the hands of some two-bit thief.
Control your anger, Paul. Anger is not good. Anger leads to hate, hate leads to darkness. What is this, Star Wars? Focus. Control is fleeting to mere mortals. Prayer. Give it up to God.
As he stood in line waiting to get on the plane, Paul began to pray to himself, to keep himself focused and bring him back to center. He didn't notice the people in line behind him, three persons back. A man, dark brown hair, sharp European features and striking blue eyes, and a woman, Puerto Rican, with long curly hair and softly arcing eyebrows.
For an observant man, Paul hadn't even noticed them... but they'd been following him for months.
Other author's notes included with the final version.