File No. M-124-16, for iluvroadrunner6 (Sam/Claire Bennet [Heroes], PG-13)
Title: File No. M-124-16
Author: ryuutchi
Recipient: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Claire Bennet (Heroes)
Summary: This file is classified at level 13. All agents must file form G-165 with their supervisor to gain access.
Author's Notes: This takes place after Jus in Bello and the end of Heroes Season 2.
Creatures From The Deep Impersonate Humans
M. Dowd
DETECTIVES in the La Jolla police department believe that the bodies found on the beach are not human, and that the city government is trying to cover up their existence.
Two police officers told the Sun-Times today that the skeletal and muscular structure of the creatures found Tuesday were twisted out of all proportion for a human adult. They say that there is a killer on the loose that is killing things that look human but aren't.
Another detective told the ENQUIRER that the bodies' DNA match members of the community, and so they must have been human.
When the police attempted to bring the deaths to the attention of their higher ups, they say the chief told them to shut down the investigation or risk being thrown off of the force. All the officers say they're letting the case rest.
For now, all they know is that there are three bodies that can't be human but are and the killer is still roaming the streets.
---
Sometimes the job was just a dud. A week spent in sunny La Jolla, California, and nothing to show from it except a few freckles dashed across the bridge of Dean's nose and a sunburn that made every exposed part of Sam turn lobster red.
"I told you there was nothing here," Dean said, after a trip to the city coroner turned up nothing-none of the twisted bodies promised in the news reports they'd found, nor any memory that the bodies had even existed. "Someone was probably making shit up, looking for a quick fifteen minutes. Or maybe the tourist board got together, thought a crazy, demonic serial killer would make this place look like fun for the whole family."
"There's something here, Dean, I can feel it," Sam replied, stubborn as a mule. He'd been the one to pick up this case. There were no premonitions, but it was a good compromise between Dean's current distracted state -Sam sighed as Dean turned his head to watch a passing girl in biker shorts walking her Chihuahua- and what looked like a promising case. "Why would someone have reported corpses that didn't exist? Doesn't that sound strange to you?"
Dean shrugged. He had stopped paying much attention to the case after three days of dead-end leads, but if letting Sam dive into the case meant spending another week on the beach, he wasn't going to complain.
[Verified Assignment Tip]
Name: Claire Bennet
Location: Costa Verde, CA
Reported Sightings: Odessa, TX; New York City, NY; Costa Verde, CA; Los Angeles, CA
Notes: Has the ability of healing.
---
Claire wasn't sure she had found the right place. Sure, the sign said "Aquatic Rose Motel", blinking on and off in a nauseating pattern even at high noon, but it didn't look like the sort of place anyone would willingly sleep. It was all chipped corners, cracks, and colors that might have been bright at one time but were now violent shades of vomit-green. She fingered the phone in her pocket, but suppressed the urge to check the text message again. It was short, and she already knew it by heart. She'd read it a hundred times on the drive down from Costa Verde: "If you want to be a thorn in the Company's side, I can help. They'll be doing a bag and tag in La Jolla. Stop them. Aquatic Rose Motel, Rm 5 -Evs Dropper." The message had come with an attached image of two men. The older was shorter and rakish looking, with a broad mouth that was twisted in a smirk, the younger looked like any of the college-bound guys she knew from school, hair that fell in his face and eyes like a puppy dog that had been kicked a few too many times.
Breathing deeply to steel herself, Claire strode towards the squat row of rooms. At least the weight of her father's gun tugged at her shoulder bag reassuringly. Like her dad, it wouldn't let her down.
[Verified Assignment Tip]
Name: Samuel Winchester
Location: La Jolla, CA
Reported Sightings: Laurence, KS; Cape Girardeau, MO; Rhinelander, WI; Baltimore, MD; New York City, NY; Stanford, CA; La Jolla, CA, Prescott, AZ, Lewiston, ME
Notes: Has precognitive visions. Subject has also been known to manifest telekinesis-- powers may be in flux. PROCEED WITH CARE.
---
When a sharp rap came at the door, Sam glanced at Dean, who had been engrossed in a particularly perverse pay-per-view movie. It had something to do with vampires not wearing very much. Dean shrugged and muted the video. "Expecting someone?" Dean asked. There was a short list of people who could reasonably find them, most of whom would probably call first.
Sam shrugged back, and went for the door. For a moment the blonde hair threw him-what would Ruby be doing here? But it wasn’t Ruby, although she had the same “you’re going to listen to me or regret it” set to her expression. “Hello?”
“Are you Sam?” she asked, the confident expression fading a bit. She hitched up her bag, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. At his nod, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. It was a startlingly strong grip for someone who looked like she should be waving pom poms around. “My name’s Claire. We have to go.”
She looked like a Claire, small and cherubic, with long blonde hair that gave her an angelic look. Sam wasn’t fooled. Almost anyone could look harmless with enough practice. He drew his arm out of her grip, shifting directly into the doorway. Claire frowned up at him and hitched her bag again. She seemed about to say something, but she looked in his face and her lips pursed in frustration. Maybe she was going to give up. Maybe it had been a prank. But she reached out and shoved, hard enough to make Sam stumble back into the room, and she followed, quickly shutting the door behind her.
from Evs Dropper
to [email withheld]
date Wed, Aug 27, 2008 at 1:17 PM
subject RE: Tooth and nail
My friends, the company is going to fight us tooth and nail, but with your help, we can turn them on each other. It's time to take this up another notch. They're spread thin and at each others' throats. Keep posting your "tips" to the assignment tracker map, but if you're willing to step up your involvement I'm including a link to their agents' schedule. [link withheld] Don't get caught.
We're close now, I can feel it. We're going to take this monster down. All of us, together. I won't stop until there's nothing left of the Company.
---
Dean was on his feet in an instant. His gun was in the duffel by the door-right where he could get at it if they needed to stock up and go hunting, but not so useful with a girl between him and the bag. No, that probably wasn’t true. She was small enough to look like she’d blow away in a stiff breeze. Dean could probably snap her in half if he needed to. He hoped he wouldn't need to. She was cute in that barely-legal cheerleader sort of way.
"How old are you?" he said, pulling himself up to his full height. He was taller than her by a foot at least, broader and more muscular by any measurement, but she looked at him with an expression that suggested she was frustrated rather than nervous. The only sign of worry was an almost instinctive tug on her shoulder bag, and a slight squaring of her shoulders when she looked at him.
"Dean, right? Look, this place isn't safe. There are people after you, people who are looking to take Sam down and do all sorts of nasty experiments on him." Again, there was that tug on the bag, and she looked around the room for the first time, taking in the seashell-studded walls, the messy beds, the porn still playing silently. Her mouth opened in a small "o" and she turned her head away, cheeks turning pink. Dean bit back a grin.
Sam strode over to the bed and shut off the television with a disgusted glare. He appeared to be blushing just as dark as the girl. "Dean, that's disgusting," he said, his voice strained, and his eyes darting to the cute little blonde again. Oh, right. Sam only got really prudish when there were women around. Specifically, women who weren't Dean's type. Dean snorted under his breath.
"Don't blame me for your perverted tastes, Sammy," he said, and threw his mildest glare at Claire. "Now, do you want to tell us just who you are and what you mean by saying my brother's in danger? I mean, I know he's a freakshow," Dean easily ignored Sam's squawk of dismay, "but that doesn't mean a bunch of government agents are planning to tie him down and probe him."
"It's not a government group. They're called the Company, and they hunt down people with powers. Like me. Like you, Sam." Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Long experience in reading his brother gave Dean unique insight, but he didn't need that to see the fear in the furrow of his brow and the set of his lips. It did take that to see a spark of hope begin to flare. They'd never met another person with powers who hadn't been crazy, evil or both. And despite her talk of companies and agents, Claire certainly seemed both sane and nice. Relatively.
Dean sat back on the bed, shoving covers out of the way to make himself more comfortable. "Look, I don't have any powers, so they probably don't care about me. Why don't you two crazy kids walk down to the Dunkin Donuts and get us all some coffee and talk this over? I'm sure spooky government agents won't look for you at the donut place, and I have a hankering for a strawberry frosted."
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Dean Winchester
File Number: 93-4675
DOB: 12/24/79 Sex: M Rac: W Soc: UNKNOWN
Name: Winchester, Dean
Arrested: 2/21/08 Monument, CO
6/20/05 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
10/18/05 MURDER - F
2/13/06 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
5/4/06 CRIMINAL IMPERSONATION - M
11/9/06 MURDER - F
11/10/06 FIREARM CARRIED W/O A LISCENCE - F
11/11/06 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
4/26/07 ESCAPE AND OTHER OFFENSES FROM CUSTODY - F
F = FELONY, M = MISDEMEANOR
---
Sam slammed the door shut behind them with more force than Claire thought was entirely necessary. The parking lot was still as empty as when she'd first walked in, although that didn't mean there wasn't a Company agent hanging around nearby. She moved closer to Sam, the better to protect him if anything came his way. But no one came at them as they rounded the corner and walked down the street, and by inches Claire began to relax a bit, and study the Company's newest target. He was cuter than the picture made him out to be, something in his eyes and the set of his shoulders when he moved that made her keep glancing at him.
"Sorry about my brother," Sam broke the silence, and she started, hand clenching around her shoulder bag. "He's a little, you know." Claire shrugged in acknowledgement. Dean was gruff, but he seemed sort of like the James Dean type to her. "So what makes you think there are people after me?" There was something hidden in the curve of Sam's lips, and Claire was sure he was hiding something, like he might have a guess why people could be following him.
"You have powers, Sam. You're... special. Right?" From the look on his face, it was obvious she had scored a hit. "There's a company out there, the Company, that tracks people like us down." She fumbled for her phone; lifting it to show him the message she'd received the day before. "I have problems with that, and I'm not going to let them hurt anyone else."
Sam took the phone from her hand, examining the photo from all angles. "Who took this?"
"I don't know. All I know is Evs gives good advice. If he says they're sending Agents out after you, you need to get out of town."
They turned into Dunkin Donuts' walkway and Sam pushed open the door. He stared at her as Claire stepped past him into the store, but he didn't ask any more questions until after they'd ordered their coffee.
Once they'd sat down in a booth Sam leaned in, lips parted in a way that somehow managed to look both like fascinated hunger and absolute concern. "You have powers too? This might sound-- did your mom die in a house fire when you were a kid?" Claire's heart felt like it had stopped beating, and she rocked back.
"There was a house fire," she breathed. "She's still alive, though. Mom, my real mom, has control over fire." Sam licked his lips once, quickly. He might want a demonstration, proof that she had the powers she said she did. "Do you have a knife?" Sam looked bewildered, but he pulled a swiss army knife from his pocket and handed it over. Claire flicked it open, and sliced the blade down across her palm. It was a surprisingly sharp knife for a standard swiss army piece. Sam gasped and reached for her wrist, but Claire extended her palm, so he could see the way the cut had vanished, leaving only a thin trail of blood that had managed to well up before the wound healed over.
She could see the revelation working its way across Sam's face, from the way his lips twisted to the narrowing of his eyes, to the way his eyebrows knit.
[Start Transcript: 45-178S, 8/12/08]
Cruz: Tell us where your daughter is, Bennet. This is for her good as well as yours.
Bennet: Why don't you tell me? You've kept me cloistered in here. I agreed to be your lapdog again in exchange for Claire's safety.
Cruz: Your daughter is working with a dangerous mole in the company. She's going to get herself in a lot of trouble if you don't stop her.
Bennet: How do you expect me to do that?
Cruz: Start by telling us where she's likely to be.
Bennet: [laughs] Have you tried Costa Verde?
Cruz: Your wife says she's been disappearing for days at a time.
Bennet: You talked to Sandra? I thought you said you'd leave my family out of your machinations.
Cruz: We told her nothing she didn't already know. We thought it best we have all the intelligence before coming to you.
Bennet: You mean, you wanted to hold all the cards.
Cruz: If you want.
Bennet: Fine, I'll tell you what you want to know.
Cruz: Good.
Bennet: But first, let me tell you a secret, Cruz. This company is going to fall, and it's going to fall hard. The normal humans will be at their partners' throats, and you'll want to nuke it all by the time you're done, and you know what? You won't be able to. Because by then your secret-- our secret will be out. That's what your mole is doing. He's turning this neat little world of paper trails, bagging, tagging and brainwashing upside down and inside out. And I can't say I blame him.
Cruz: Your daughter's going to get hurt if you don't help me stop Evs!
Bennet: My daughter heals fast.
---
Dean spent his time in leisurely contemplation of the last few minutes of his pay-per-view "movie" while waiting for Sam and his new girlfriend to come back. He wasn't entirely convinced that she was telling the truth, but Sam was good enough at pulling the truth out of situations like this that he didn't much mind sitting back and letting Sam enjoy the ride. After all, little miss cheerleader had come for Sam not for Dean.
Someone knocked, and Dean cursed, grabbing for the remote and turning off the tv. Sam would have just walked back in. What were the odds of two strangers showing up at their motel room on the same day? Unless, of course, Claire had been right. If agents from some mixed-up, crazy company that hunted people with powers were polite enough to knock, which Dean wasn't sure was the case. Just to be safe, he grabbed his gun from the duffel, and slipped it into the back of his pants. "Who is it?" he asked, peering through the peephole.
An uncomfortably familiar face filled his line of sight. "Lucy, I'm home," said FBI Special Agent Henrickson. Dean bit back a curse and dove for his duffel, jerking out the canteen of holy water. He slammed the door open and splashed Henrickson liberally with it. No smoke. No cursing of God and humanity. The formerly dead FBI agent, who did not look particularly dead, just glanced down at his wet shirt and sighed.
"Christo," Dean said, just to make sure. Henrickson arched an eyebrow and leaned against the doorway.
"If that's the way you greet all your friends it's no wonder you don't actually have any." Henrickson waited for a minute to see if Dean was planning to throw anything else at him, and stepped into the room, adjusting his jacket over the damp shirt. Dean stepped back, taking in the neat black suit, and irritatingly mocking smile and a set of nasty burn scars on either hand.
"What? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"Aren't you? Twice?"
"Did you climb back out of Hell just to annoy me? Because that's a new low, even for you. I'm pretty sure the FBI doesn't employ the undead."
Instead of answering, Henrickson look around the motel room. "Where's your brother? Hasn't gotten his lanky ass in trouble, has he? I thought that was your job."
"Out on a date. Shocking, I know, but even guys like him get a pity date occasionally. I thought Lilith killed you."
Henrickson's grin twisted at the edges, and he rubbed a thumb over one scar. "I have some damn comprehensive healthcare."
Dean grumbled and crossed his arms, trying look like Henrickson's sudden appearance hadn't shook him up. "What the hell are you doing around here anyway? You hoping we'll let you in on our hunts? Because we don't have a position open for formerly-dead ex-cop hunter right now. Maybe if you fill out an application and leave a resume, we'll get back to you in a decade."
"I don't need to be employed by you, Winchester. I've got a place. It's why I need to talk to Sam. We need to talk to him." A shock of alarm shot up Dean's back. Claire's face floated in his mind's eye, her conviction that someone was after Sam.
"About what, exactly?"
"About the things he can do."
Case File ID-Location
Temporal Anomaly Class: 1B
Monument, CO
Agents Sebastian Shell and Hsu-Mei Park were on the scene at the moment of temporal anomaly, surveilling subject Samuel Winchester [See report: D0019]. Analysis suggested at the time that abnormal occurrences, such as out-of-season weather patterns and mass hallucinations might have been the result of Winchester's ability manifestation. Later research has proven that subject might instead have been the focus of the anomaly rather than source.
There was brief skirmish between Winchester, his brother and a mob of local residents who were hallucinating, during which time Agents Park and Shell entered the building. Agent Park reported seeing a female child, white, between seven and nine years of age entering the building after the conflict. Despite risk to themselves and pre-operational orders not to directly engage any subjects or citizens, the agents chose to interrupt an altercation between the girl and FBI Special Agent Henrickson. [Sentence Omitted: Classified] The agents survived via Agent Shell's object-displacement abilities.
[Paragraph Omitted: Classified]
A team of agents was dispatched on 2/28/08 to examine the site.
---
Claire had a really nice smile, Sam thought, and then immediately buried the thought in the back of his mind where hopefully no one would ever find it. Claire bit back another dazzling grin, and reached for the bag of donuts. "Don't eat the strawberry one, or Dean will complain," he chided, handing it over. Much of his mind was taken up considering possible escape routes if this company searching for demon children really did exist, and how many Claire seemed to know of. He'd never been able to find that sort of pattern himself, maybe because there didn't seem to be a pattern-- Claire said she was the only one with powers who had been in a housefire as a baby.
"So your brother really has an FBI warrant out for his arrest?" That had slipped out. He hadn't intended to explain why Dean thought government agents were after them.
"You've asked that three times," he said, trying to frown, but her amusement at the idea nuked the grouchy expression before it could get anywhere near his face.
Claire bit into a powdered donut innocently.
"If I tell you it was for grave desecration and impersonation of priests, will you let it go?"
She shrugged, but turned her attention to polishing off her donut and left Sam alone with his thoughts. The more they discussed their respective powers, the more relaxed Claire had got. Sam wasn't so sure he counted as having powers, since he hadn't had a real vision since the Yellow-eyed Demon died. When he'd mentioned that, Claire had suggested that maybe the demon he thought he'd gotten his powers from had blocked him somehow. She didn't seem convinced by Sam's explanation of how they'd gotten their powers, firing back with suggestions of evolution and science. She'd never met the Yellow-eyed man, and that was probably a small favor.
Claire grabbed his arm with a startled hiss, jerking him out of his contemplations of natural and supernatural causes. He saw why she'd stopped immediately-- a car parked directly outside Sam and Dean's motel room. Dean and a man in a black suit were arguing next to it, Dean's voice getting louder the more annoyed he got, the other's voice low and intense. Another stranger stood, his arms crossed, leaning against the motel building.
"I don't know what you intend to do to Sam, but I swear to God I'll shoot you myself before I let you hurt him." Dean slammed his hand on the hood of the car. The other man responded, leaning in a little. His voice was too quiet to make out, but whatever he'd said didn't pacify Dean one bit. Dean move closer, barely a few inches seemed to separate them, and Sam wondered why the second agent didn't seem intimidated by the way Dean invaded his personal space.
The other stranger began to stand, but the first moved his hand in a quick motion, and tipped his head to the side. Enough that Sam could get a view of the familiar profile. "Henrickson?" he muttered. Claire, next to him, seemed to be vibrating with tension.
"Why are you just standing here," she said. "They're Company agents. You have to get out of here."
Sam shook his head, still staring at the dead man. "That's. He died." Confusion swirled Sam's thoughts, making it hard to decide on a plan of action. Clearly Dean trusted Henrickson, if that was Henrickson, enough to stand close to him without a weapon between them. But Claire was terrified. No, he amended, looking down at her pale, tense face. Terrified and furious. "We can't run off without Dean, anyway." He rushed forward into the parking lot, anxiety on his face and in his voice. "Dean?!"
Sam was pulling something out of his pocket as he ran in - a flask - and with one practiced sweep of his thumb he flipped the top off. Sam wasn't going to wait for an answer, and threw the flask's contents on Henrikson.
This is KPLH. We interrupt our programming; this is a local emergency. Important instructions will follow.
An earthquake has been confirmed in the La Jolla area, at 4:15 pm, centered around Camino Del Oro and El Paseo Grande. The earthquake is reported to have been 6.4 magnitude, and have lasted around a minute and a half.
Please evacuate all buildings. Emergency services have been dispatched to the area. If there is a medical emergency please dial 9-1-1, otherwise do not use your telephone. The telephone lines should be kept open for emergency use.
---
For the second time in less than an hour, Henrikson sighed and looked down at his freshly-soaked shirt. "You boys are two of a kind, I'll tell you that."
Dean swung around, his annoyance with Henrickson melding into annoyance with Sam, but Henrickson could only smile. He should have figured that Sam, when not in fear of the law, wouldn't cut and run. He nodded when his partner, Kendall, a thickset man with red hair messily tucked behind his ears, started to move into position. "Hello, Sam. It's nice seeing you when we're not all about to be murdered by crazies. I was wondering if you and Dean would be willing to come with us for a while."
The girl next to Sam looked like she was going to bolt. She was familiar. Henrickson was sure he'd seen her picture before. Sam had dropped his hand on her shoulder, like he was trying to calm her, but it wasn't working. She reached up and squeezed his hand. Her other hand, though, slipped into her purse. There was something dangerous in the way she moved, and he wondered whether Sam knew his girlfriend probably had powers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his partner stop, hands out, concentrating.
"The hell are you planning, Henrickson?" Dean snarled, teeth bared like a dog being backed into a corner, and he reached his hand behind his back. It was no surprise Winchester was carrying. He pulled out his gun as the ground began to shake under them; Henrikson didn't waste his time and shoved the gun down and away. He should've been grabbing hold of something to anchor his footing, but sending Dean sprawling from a suckerpunch was a damn sight more satisfying.
August 29, 2008
Mission Report
Agent Victor Henrickson
Over my strenuous objections, the pre-operational analysis was that, considering the subject's close bond with his brother, agents would approach the elder Winchester first, and convince him to release his brother into the Company's custody. My own beliefs were that neither Winchester would release themselves willing into unknown hands, nor would they allow themselves to be separated for any length of time. Unsurprisingly, when Dean Winchester met the prospect of being separated from Samuel, Agent Kendall and myself were met with hostility, which we returned in due course.
---
The ground began to shake in earnest, and Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd had to deal with a real earthquake. Her father's gun was cool and reassuring in her hand, but she couldn't aim right without losing her balance entirely. Her first shot went wild, and the agent, whose powers were probably causing the quake started to walk forward. Distantly she noted that the other agent was on top of Dean, struggling for Dean's gun. Sam grabbed her free wrist, his massive hand covering it entirely. "Come on, let's get out of here."
He didn't wait for her to answer, and she would have just agreed even if she had. He was strong enough that he could probably carry her if she said no. As it was, they ran and she felt like she was barely taking a step, like he was carrying her along with him. She spared a moment to wish Sam had West's power, as they dashed down the street, feeling the ground move less and less violently the farther they went. They skittered to a halt in front of a broad section of park fronting a beach, and Claire tugged on Sam's hand. "Towards the trees," she suggested.
A shot rang out behind them. The first time she had heard a gun go off, she'd thought it was impossibly loud, but now it seemed hardly noticeable. That was possibly because neither of them had actually gotten shot, although it seemed the bullet hadn't been entirely off its mark. Sam let go of her hand as they both raced for the minimal cover the trees provided. She risked a glance back, and saw that it was the red-haired man, the one with powers who was following them. He aimed again, and Claire sped up. They were running fast enough that the smallest trip could send them both flying, so she shoved Sam as hard as she could, and he tripped, going down just as the agent fired again. Claire half-turned again, to see if the shot had gone wild, just as she felt the impact. Her own momentum combined with the speed of the bullet's blow, sent her tumbling back. There was pain, and warm wetness spreading across her chest. She couldn't focus for a long minute, although she could hear, over the blood rushing in her ears, the sound of Sam yelling and the thud of Sam's fist crashing into the agent's jaw.
And then someone picked her up. She coughed, and frowned at finding she made no sound, just coughed up a little bit of blood. Sam said something, and pressed on the wound. He there was a note of desperation in his voice and Claire wished her head would clear so she could understand what he was babbling about when he pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't forceful or tender or any other adjective she might have assigned to a kiss. Especially when he sat back and started pumping on her chest. She coughed again, and he pressed his mouth back against hers.
For a moment Claire blacked out, probably because of the blood loss and the bullet nicking her lung, rather than anything Sam was doing, but when she woke up, she found Sam's lips still on hers, still trying to give clumsy CPR. She exhaled, feeling like she could finally breathe again, and reached up to grab a handful of his shirt. She'd intended to use the grip to shove the large man off her, but he gasped into her mouth, and an pleased, warm feeling pooled in her veins and she playfully nipped at his lips instead.
Sam sat up, fingers pressed to his lips. "Claire? How are you? Why are you--?"
She coughed again, to clear her throat of the left-over blood and shrugged. "God, that stung. You'd think they could at least have bad aim or something. Bullets in the lung are bitch to get out."
With a shaky, exhaled laugh, Sam stood up and offered his hand to Claire. "You really do heal fast." Claire was about to take it, when motion behind Sam caught her eye. The agent, who had been crumpled on the ground in a beaten heap, was stirring. He looked up at her balefully and frowned, his face set in a familiar sort of concentration. The ground beneath them began to rumble again and Claire looked around. Her gun had fallen from her hands not too far away and she jumped for it. The ground wasn't trembling enough to disturb her aim this time, her focus had narrowed to his ugly face, the way he was concentrating on trying to hurt them both. She pulled the trigger, and knew she'd hit her mark when a spray of blood exploded from the man's forehead on impact. She sat back, still feeling as though the earth was trying to shake her to pieces.
Sam knelt next to the agent, turning him over gingerly. There was no way the man was walking away from that one. Claire wouldn't look him in the eyes. She slipped the gun back into her purse and waited for her limbs to stop shivering.
State of California County of San Diego
Death Certificate
I, BRIAN WERZTEL, Clerk of the City Commission in the County and State aforesaid, it being an office of record, and having a seal, do hereby certify that the records in my office show that
JACK KENDALL died at 4:25PM in San Diego County and the State of California on the 28TH day of AUGUST, 2008
Sex MALE; Age 34 YEARS
Name of Disease or Cause of Death GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE HEAD
Occupation UNKNOWN
As shown by Certificate of Death returned by Dr SIMON FERARRO and recorded in Death Report No. 5 at page 3.
Certificate filed AUG., 2008.
---
Dean stripped Henrickson of his suit, and, using the handcuffs in the man's pocket-- once a cop always a cop-- tied him up in the laundry room before going after Sam.
"What does it take to get rid of you?" he asked Henrickson, who leaned, irritated and bloodied, next to a pay washer that had seen better days forty years ago.
"More than it takes to get rid of you three, hopefully," Henrickson responded, cracking open one eye. "I'll be seeing you, Winchester."
Dean snorted at that and slammed the door shut. He wasn't sure which way Sam had gone exactly, but he knew the vague direction, so he chose a street and walked towards the beach. At the corner he paused, trying to decide when Sam and Claire turned it in the other direction, looking distinctly worse for the wear. "Hey!" he yelped, and Claire went for the gun in her purse again. He should have guessed that someone that cute would be more dangerous than she looked, if she was coming after Sam.
He raised his hands. "Sam, don't let your girlfriend shoot me, okay? Jesus." The look Sam and Claire shared spoke more than words, especially since Sam was no good at keeping his thoughts from his face. "Shit, Sammy, where's the other guy?"
Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "Dead."
Dean looked from Claire to Sam and back again, trying to decide who was more likely to have killed a human. Sam was too scrupulous, and even though she looked sweet, the defensive jut of her jaw made Claire the likely suspect. "Fuck, you killed him?" She didn't look like a murderer, and the way she shifted her weight and looked down at the ground and then up again said more about her than she probably realized.
"He shot me," she snapped. And, indeed, there was a bullet hole and a large bloodstain across her chest. She was standing and walking around, so clearly she was all right, though. "And he probably would have killed you and kidnapped Sam."
"And Henrickson?" Sam asked, distracting Dean from his examination of Claire's condition.
"He's an ass, but he's our ass," Dean replied without thinking. At Sam's arched eyebrow, Dean shook his head. "That came out wrong. He's locked up, and won't be getting away until the next time someone wants to wash their dirty underwear."
Feds Caught With Pants Down After Earthquake In La Jolla
M. Dowd
When Maria Gossens decided to wash her laundry at the Aquatic Rose motel after the mysterious La Jolla earthquake on Thursday, she never expected to stumble over a federal agent. She told the INQUIRER in an exclusive story that she found FBI Special Agent Victor Henrickson handcuffed and nearly naked in the basement laundry room. "He was very polite," she said, "but also mysterious. When he heard about the earthquake warnings, he asked to borrow a pair of my husband's pants and ran off."
Gossens, 42, believes that the government must have had a hand in the earthquake, which puzzled scientists by following no fault line or natural stressors.
---
When they returned to the motel room, Sam lent Claire a t-shirt to replace her torn and dirty one. She looked small and fragile in his oversize grey shirt, especially since she'd finally put down her bag in order to change. "Look, Claire, I have to thank you. I mean, I don't know much about these guys, but now that I know they're out there, I can protect myself. You took a bullet for me too. I mean, I know you got better, but that's still not something everyone would do."
Claire smoothed the hem of the shirt and smiled a little smile. Then she leaned up and pressed a little kiss to his cheek. She smelled like vanilla perfume and a little like blood. "Thanks, Sam. I have to get back home now." She held up her phone and smiled her dazzling smile. "I got a new text message. And I need to find my dad. Try not to get shot at again."
Sam bit back a wry smile, his cheeks turning slowly pink. "Good luck."
When the door shut behind her, Dean said "Dude, she wanted you so bad."
"Shut up, Dean."
"Come on! She was hot. I'll bet she'd even look cute in a cheerleader uniform."
"She is a cheerleader. Seriously, Dean, shut up."
"If you're not feeling up to it, I'll pinch-hit."
"Dean. Shut. Up."
Primatech
Memorandum
Date: 8/29/08
Subject Sam Winchester should be taken off the current Assignment Tracker at this time. Agent Surveillance was incorrect [see: Correction Form 12-AD4]. Genetic tests run on samples brought back by Agent Henrickson from assignment M-124-16 confirm that Samuel Winchester is not an evolved human.
However, his profile should not be deleted from the database. Tests are still being run, as traces of toxins in his blood may still lead to other assignments.
Gael Cruz
Author: ryuutchi
Recipient: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Claire Bennet (Heroes)
Summary: This file is classified at level 13. All agents must file form G-165 with their supervisor to gain access.
Author's Notes: This takes place after Jus in Bello and the end of Heroes Season 2.
Creatures From The Deep Impersonate Humans
M. Dowd
DETECTIVES in the La Jolla police department believe that the bodies found on the beach are not human, and that the city government is trying to cover up their existence.
Two police officers told the Sun-Times today that the skeletal and muscular structure of the creatures found Tuesday were twisted out of all proportion for a human adult. They say that there is a killer on the loose that is killing things that look human but aren't.
Another detective told the ENQUIRER that the bodies' DNA match members of the community, and so they must have been human.
When the police attempted to bring the deaths to the attention of their higher ups, they say the chief told them to shut down the investigation or risk being thrown off of the force. All the officers say they're letting the case rest.
For now, all they know is that there are three bodies that can't be human but are and the killer is still roaming the streets.
---
Sometimes the job was just a dud. A week spent in sunny La Jolla, California, and nothing to show from it except a few freckles dashed across the bridge of Dean's nose and a sunburn that made every exposed part of Sam turn lobster red.
"I told you there was nothing here," Dean said, after a trip to the city coroner turned up nothing-none of the twisted bodies promised in the news reports they'd found, nor any memory that the bodies had even existed. "Someone was probably making shit up, looking for a quick fifteen minutes. Or maybe the tourist board got together, thought a crazy, demonic serial killer would make this place look like fun for the whole family."
"There's something here, Dean, I can feel it," Sam replied, stubborn as a mule. He'd been the one to pick up this case. There were no premonitions, but it was a good compromise between Dean's current distracted state -Sam sighed as Dean turned his head to watch a passing girl in biker shorts walking her Chihuahua- and what looked like a promising case. "Why would someone have reported corpses that didn't exist? Doesn't that sound strange to you?"
Dean shrugged. He had stopped paying much attention to the case after three days of dead-end leads, but if letting Sam dive into the case meant spending another week on the beach, he wasn't going to complain.
[Verified Assignment Tip]
Name: Claire Bennet
Location: Costa Verde, CA
Reported Sightings: Odessa, TX; New York City, NY; Costa Verde, CA; Los Angeles, CA
Notes: Has the ability of healing.
---
Claire wasn't sure she had found the right place. Sure, the sign said "Aquatic Rose Motel", blinking on and off in a nauseating pattern even at high noon, but it didn't look like the sort of place anyone would willingly sleep. It was all chipped corners, cracks, and colors that might have been bright at one time but were now violent shades of vomit-green. She fingered the phone in her pocket, but suppressed the urge to check the text message again. It was short, and she already knew it by heart. She'd read it a hundred times on the drive down from Costa Verde: "If you want to be a thorn in the Company's side, I can help. They'll be doing a bag and tag in La Jolla. Stop them. Aquatic Rose Motel, Rm 5 -Evs Dropper." The message had come with an attached image of two men. The older was shorter and rakish looking, with a broad mouth that was twisted in a smirk, the younger looked like any of the college-bound guys she knew from school, hair that fell in his face and eyes like a puppy dog that had been kicked a few too many times.
Breathing deeply to steel herself, Claire strode towards the squat row of rooms. At least the weight of her father's gun tugged at her shoulder bag reassuringly. Like her dad, it wouldn't let her down.
[Verified Assignment Tip]
Name: Samuel Winchester
Location: La Jolla, CA
Reported Sightings: Laurence, KS; Cape Girardeau, MO; Rhinelander, WI; Baltimore, MD; New York City, NY; Stanford, CA; La Jolla, CA, Prescott, AZ, Lewiston, ME
Notes: Has precognitive visions. Subject has also been known to manifest telekinesis-- powers may be in flux. PROCEED WITH CARE.
---
When a sharp rap came at the door, Sam glanced at Dean, who had been engrossed in a particularly perverse pay-per-view movie. It had something to do with vampires not wearing very much. Dean shrugged and muted the video. "Expecting someone?" Dean asked. There was a short list of people who could reasonably find them, most of whom would probably call first.
Sam shrugged back, and went for the door. For a moment the blonde hair threw him-what would Ruby be doing here? But it wasn’t Ruby, although she had the same “you’re going to listen to me or regret it” set to her expression. “Hello?”
“Are you Sam?” she asked, the confident expression fading a bit. She hitched up her bag, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. At his nod, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. It was a startlingly strong grip for someone who looked like she should be waving pom poms around. “My name’s Claire. We have to go.”
She looked like a Claire, small and cherubic, with long blonde hair that gave her an angelic look. Sam wasn’t fooled. Almost anyone could look harmless with enough practice. He drew his arm out of her grip, shifting directly into the doorway. Claire frowned up at him and hitched her bag again. She seemed about to say something, but she looked in his face and her lips pursed in frustration. Maybe she was going to give up. Maybe it had been a prank. But she reached out and shoved, hard enough to make Sam stumble back into the room, and she followed, quickly shutting the door behind her.
from Evs Dropper
to [email withheld]
date Wed, Aug 27, 2008 at 1:17 PM
subject RE: Tooth and nail
My friends, the company is going to fight us tooth and nail, but with your help, we can turn them on each other. It's time to take this up another notch. They're spread thin and at each others' throats. Keep posting your "tips" to the assignment tracker map, but if you're willing to step up your involvement I'm including a link to their agents' schedule. [link withheld] Don't get caught.
We're close now, I can feel it. We're going to take this monster down. All of us, together. I won't stop until there's nothing left of the Company.
---
Dean was on his feet in an instant. His gun was in the duffel by the door-right where he could get at it if they needed to stock up and go hunting, but not so useful with a girl between him and the bag. No, that probably wasn’t true. She was small enough to look like she’d blow away in a stiff breeze. Dean could probably snap her in half if he needed to. He hoped he wouldn't need to. She was cute in that barely-legal cheerleader sort of way.
"How old are you?" he said, pulling himself up to his full height. He was taller than her by a foot at least, broader and more muscular by any measurement, but she looked at him with an expression that suggested she was frustrated rather than nervous. The only sign of worry was an almost instinctive tug on her shoulder bag, and a slight squaring of her shoulders when she looked at him.
"Dean, right? Look, this place isn't safe. There are people after you, people who are looking to take Sam down and do all sorts of nasty experiments on him." Again, there was that tug on the bag, and she looked around the room for the first time, taking in the seashell-studded walls, the messy beds, the porn still playing silently. Her mouth opened in a small "o" and she turned her head away, cheeks turning pink. Dean bit back a grin.
Sam strode over to the bed and shut off the television with a disgusted glare. He appeared to be blushing just as dark as the girl. "Dean, that's disgusting," he said, his voice strained, and his eyes darting to the cute little blonde again. Oh, right. Sam only got really prudish when there were women around. Specifically, women who weren't Dean's type. Dean snorted under his breath.
"Don't blame me for your perverted tastes, Sammy," he said, and threw his mildest glare at Claire. "Now, do you want to tell us just who you are and what you mean by saying my brother's in danger? I mean, I know he's a freakshow," Dean easily ignored Sam's squawk of dismay, "but that doesn't mean a bunch of government agents are planning to tie him down and probe him."
"It's not a government group. They're called the Company, and they hunt down people with powers. Like me. Like you, Sam." Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Long experience in reading his brother gave Dean unique insight, but he didn't need that to see the fear in the furrow of his brow and the set of his lips. It did take that to see a spark of hope begin to flare. They'd never met another person with powers who hadn't been crazy, evil or both. And despite her talk of companies and agents, Claire certainly seemed both sane and nice. Relatively.
Dean sat back on the bed, shoving covers out of the way to make himself more comfortable. "Look, I don't have any powers, so they probably don't care about me. Why don't you two crazy kids walk down to the Dunkin Donuts and get us all some coffee and talk this over? I'm sure spooky government agents won't look for you at the donut place, and I have a hankering for a strawberry frosted."
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Dean Winchester
File Number: 93-4675
DOB: 12/24/79 Sex: M Rac: W Soc: UNKNOWN
Name: Winchester, Dean
Arrested: 2/21/08 Monument, CO
6/20/05 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
10/18/05 MURDER - F
2/13/06 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
5/4/06 CRIMINAL IMPERSONATION - M
11/9/06 MURDER - F
11/10/06 FIREARM CARRIED W/O A LISCENCE - F
11/11/06 GRAVE DESECRATION - F
4/26/07 ESCAPE AND OTHER OFFENSES FROM CUSTODY - F
F = FELONY, M = MISDEMEANOR
---
Sam slammed the door shut behind them with more force than Claire thought was entirely necessary. The parking lot was still as empty as when she'd first walked in, although that didn't mean there wasn't a Company agent hanging around nearby. She moved closer to Sam, the better to protect him if anything came his way. But no one came at them as they rounded the corner and walked down the street, and by inches Claire began to relax a bit, and study the Company's newest target. He was cuter than the picture made him out to be, something in his eyes and the set of his shoulders when he moved that made her keep glancing at him.
"Sorry about my brother," Sam broke the silence, and she started, hand clenching around her shoulder bag. "He's a little, you know." Claire shrugged in acknowledgement. Dean was gruff, but he seemed sort of like the James Dean type to her. "So what makes you think there are people after me?" There was something hidden in the curve of Sam's lips, and Claire was sure he was hiding something, like he might have a guess why people could be following him.
"You have powers, Sam. You're... special. Right?" From the look on his face, it was obvious she had scored a hit. "There's a company out there, the Company, that tracks people like us down." She fumbled for her phone; lifting it to show him the message she'd received the day before. "I have problems with that, and I'm not going to let them hurt anyone else."
Sam took the phone from her hand, examining the photo from all angles. "Who took this?"
"I don't know. All I know is Evs gives good advice. If he says they're sending Agents out after you, you need to get out of town."
They turned into Dunkin Donuts' walkway and Sam pushed open the door. He stared at her as Claire stepped past him into the store, but he didn't ask any more questions until after they'd ordered their coffee.
Once they'd sat down in a booth Sam leaned in, lips parted in a way that somehow managed to look both like fascinated hunger and absolute concern. "You have powers too? This might sound-- did your mom die in a house fire when you were a kid?" Claire's heart felt like it had stopped beating, and she rocked back.
"There was a house fire," she breathed. "She's still alive, though. Mom, my real mom, has control over fire." Sam licked his lips once, quickly. He might want a demonstration, proof that she had the powers she said she did. "Do you have a knife?" Sam looked bewildered, but he pulled a swiss army knife from his pocket and handed it over. Claire flicked it open, and sliced the blade down across her palm. It was a surprisingly sharp knife for a standard swiss army piece. Sam gasped and reached for her wrist, but Claire extended her palm, so he could see the way the cut had vanished, leaving only a thin trail of blood that had managed to well up before the wound healed over.
She could see the revelation working its way across Sam's face, from the way his lips twisted to the narrowing of his eyes, to the way his eyebrows knit.
[Start Transcript: 45-178S, 8/12/08]
Cruz: Tell us where your daughter is, Bennet. This is for her good as well as yours.
Bennet: Why don't you tell me? You've kept me cloistered in here. I agreed to be your lapdog again in exchange for Claire's safety.
Cruz: Your daughter is working with a dangerous mole in the company. She's going to get herself in a lot of trouble if you don't stop her.
Bennet: How do you expect me to do that?
Cruz: Start by telling us where she's likely to be.
Bennet: [laughs] Have you tried Costa Verde?
Cruz: Your wife says she's been disappearing for days at a time.
Bennet: You talked to Sandra? I thought you said you'd leave my family out of your machinations.
Cruz: We told her nothing she didn't already know. We thought it best we have all the intelligence before coming to you.
Bennet: You mean, you wanted to hold all the cards.
Cruz: If you want.
Bennet: Fine, I'll tell you what you want to know.
Cruz: Good.
Bennet: But first, let me tell you a secret, Cruz. This company is going to fall, and it's going to fall hard. The normal humans will be at their partners' throats, and you'll want to nuke it all by the time you're done, and you know what? You won't be able to. Because by then your secret-- our secret will be out. That's what your mole is doing. He's turning this neat little world of paper trails, bagging, tagging and brainwashing upside down and inside out. And I can't say I blame him.
Cruz: Your daughter's going to get hurt if you don't help me stop Evs!
Bennet: My daughter heals fast.
---
Dean spent his time in leisurely contemplation of the last few minutes of his pay-per-view "movie" while waiting for Sam and his new girlfriend to come back. He wasn't entirely convinced that she was telling the truth, but Sam was good enough at pulling the truth out of situations like this that he didn't much mind sitting back and letting Sam enjoy the ride. After all, little miss cheerleader had come for Sam not for Dean.
Someone knocked, and Dean cursed, grabbing for the remote and turning off the tv. Sam would have just walked back in. What were the odds of two strangers showing up at their motel room on the same day? Unless, of course, Claire had been right. If agents from some mixed-up, crazy company that hunted people with powers were polite enough to knock, which Dean wasn't sure was the case. Just to be safe, he grabbed his gun from the duffel, and slipped it into the back of his pants. "Who is it?" he asked, peering through the peephole.
An uncomfortably familiar face filled his line of sight. "Lucy, I'm home," said FBI Special Agent Henrickson. Dean bit back a curse and dove for his duffel, jerking out the canteen of holy water. He slammed the door open and splashed Henrickson liberally with it. No smoke. No cursing of God and humanity. The formerly dead FBI agent, who did not look particularly dead, just glanced down at his wet shirt and sighed.
"Christo," Dean said, just to make sure. Henrickson arched an eyebrow and leaned against the doorway.
"If that's the way you greet all your friends it's no wonder you don't actually have any." Henrickson waited for a minute to see if Dean was planning to throw anything else at him, and stepped into the room, adjusting his jacket over the damp shirt. Dean stepped back, taking in the neat black suit, and irritatingly mocking smile and a set of nasty burn scars on either hand.
"What? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
"Aren't you? Twice?"
"Did you climb back out of Hell just to annoy me? Because that's a new low, even for you. I'm pretty sure the FBI doesn't employ the undead."
Instead of answering, Henrickson look around the motel room. "Where's your brother? Hasn't gotten his lanky ass in trouble, has he? I thought that was your job."
"Out on a date. Shocking, I know, but even guys like him get a pity date occasionally. I thought Lilith killed you."
Henrickson's grin twisted at the edges, and he rubbed a thumb over one scar. "I have some damn comprehensive healthcare."
Dean grumbled and crossed his arms, trying look like Henrickson's sudden appearance hadn't shook him up. "What the hell are you doing around here anyway? You hoping we'll let you in on our hunts? Because we don't have a position open for formerly-dead ex-cop hunter right now. Maybe if you fill out an application and leave a resume, we'll get back to you in a decade."
"I don't need to be employed by you, Winchester. I've got a place. It's why I need to talk to Sam. We need to talk to him." A shock of alarm shot up Dean's back. Claire's face floated in his mind's eye, her conviction that someone was after Sam.
"About what, exactly?"
"About the things he can do."
Case File ID-Location
Temporal Anomaly Class: 1B
Monument, CO
Agents Sebastian Shell and Hsu-Mei Park were on the scene at the moment of temporal anomaly, surveilling subject Samuel Winchester [See report: D0019]. Analysis suggested at the time that abnormal occurrences, such as out-of-season weather patterns and mass hallucinations might have been the result of Winchester's ability manifestation. Later research has proven that subject might instead have been the focus of the anomaly rather than source.
There was brief skirmish between Winchester, his brother and a mob of local residents who were hallucinating, during which time Agents Park and Shell entered the building. Agent Park reported seeing a female child, white, between seven and nine years of age entering the building after the conflict. Despite risk to themselves and pre-operational orders not to directly engage any subjects or citizens, the agents chose to interrupt an altercation between the girl and FBI Special Agent Henrickson. [Sentence Omitted: Classified] The agents survived via Agent Shell's object-displacement abilities.
[Paragraph Omitted: Classified]
A team of agents was dispatched on 2/28/08 to examine the site.
---
Claire had a really nice smile, Sam thought, and then immediately buried the thought in the back of his mind where hopefully no one would ever find it. Claire bit back another dazzling grin, and reached for the bag of donuts. "Don't eat the strawberry one, or Dean will complain," he chided, handing it over. Much of his mind was taken up considering possible escape routes if this company searching for demon children really did exist, and how many Claire seemed to know of. He'd never been able to find that sort of pattern himself, maybe because there didn't seem to be a pattern-- Claire said she was the only one with powers who had been in a housefire as a baby.
"So your brother really has an FBI warrant out for his arrest?" That had slipped out. He hadn't intended to explain why Dean thought government agents were after them.
"You've asked that three times," he said, trying to frown, but her amusement at the idea nuked the grouchy expression before it could get anywhere near his face.
Claire bit into a powdered donut innocently.
"If I tell you it was for grave desecration and impersonation of priests, will you let it go?"
She shrugged, but turned her attention to polishing off her donut and left Sam alone with his thoughts. The more they discussed their respective powers, the more relaxed Claire had got. Sam wasn't so sure he counted as having powers, since he hadn't had a real vision since the Yellow-eyed Demon died. When he'd mentioned that, Claire had suggested that maybe the demon he thought he'd gotten his powers from had blocked him somehow. She didn't seem convinced by Sam's explanation of how they'd gotten their powers, firing back with suggestions of evolution and science. She'd never met the Yellow-eyed man, and that was probably a small favor.
Claire grabbed his arm with a startled hiss, jerking him out of his contemplations of natural and supernatural causes. He saw why she'd stopped immediately-- a car parked directly outside Sam and Dean's motel room. Dean and a man in a black suit were arguing next to it, Dean's voice getting louder the more annoyed he got, the other's voice low and intense. Another stranger stood, his arms crossed, leaning against the motel building.
"I don't know what you intend to do to Sam, but I swear to God I'll shoot you myself before I let you hurt him." Dean slammed his hand on the hood of the car. The other man responded, leaning in a little. His voice was too quiet to make out, but whatever he'd said didn't pacify Dean one bit. Dean move closer, barely a few inches seemed to separate them, and Sam wondered why the second agent didn't seem intimidated by the way Dean invaded his personal space.
The other stranger began to stand, but the first moved his hand in a quick motion, and tipped his head to the side. Enough that Sam could get a view of the familiar profile. "Henrickson?" he muttered. Claire, next to him, seemed to be vibrating with tension.
"Why are you just standing here," she said. "They're Company agents. You have to get out of here."
Sam shook his head, still staring at the dead man. "That's. He died." Confusion swirled Sam's thoughts, making it hard to decide on a plan of action. Clearly Dean trusted Henrickson, if that was Henrickson, enough to stand close to him without a weapon between them. But Claire was terrified. No, he amended, looking down at her pale, tense face. Terrified and furious. "We can't run off without Dean, anyway." He rushed forward into the parking lot, anxiety on his face and in his voice. "Dean?!"
Sam was pulling something out of his pocket as he ran in - a flask - and with one practiced sweep of his thumb he flipped the top off. Sam wasn't going to wait for an answer, and threw the flask's contents on Henrikson.
This is KPLH. We interrupt our programming; this is a local emergency. Important instructions will follow.
An earthquake has been confirmed in the La Jolla area, at 4:15 pm, centered around Camino Del Oro and El Paseo Grande. The earthquake is reported to have been 6.4 magnitude, and have lasted around a minute and a half.
Please evacuate all buildings. Emergency services have been dispatched to the area. If there is a medical emergency please dial 9-1-1, otherwise do not use your telephone. The telephone lines should be kept open for emergency use.
---
For the second time in less than an hour, Henrikson sighed and looked down at his freshly-soaked shirt. "You boys are two of a kind, I'll tell you that."
Dean swung around, his annoyance with Henrickson melding into annoyance with Sam, but Henrickson could only smile. He should have figured that Sam, when not in fear of the law, wouldn't cut and run. He nodded when his partner, Kendall, a thickset man with red hair messily tucked behind his ears, started to move into position. "Hello, Sam. It's nice seeing you when we're not all about to be murdered by crazies. I was wondering if you and Dean would be willing to come with us for a while."
The girl next to Sam looked like she was going to bolt. She was familiar. Henrickson was sure he'd seen her picture before. Sam had dropped his hand on her shoulder, like he was trying to calm her, but it wasn't working. She reached up and squeezed his hand. Her other hand, though, slipped into her purse. There was something dangerous in the way she moved, and he wondered whether Sam knew his girlfriend probably had powers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his partner stop, hands out, concentrating.
"The hell are you planning, Henrickson?" Dean snarled, teeth bared like a dog being backed into a corner, and he reached his hand behind his back. It was no surprise Winchester was carrying. He pulled out his gun as the ground began to shake under them; Henrikson didn't waste his time and shoved the gun down and away. He should've been grabbing hold of something to anchor his footing, but sending Dean sprawling from a suckerpunch was a damn sight more satisfying.
August 29, 2008
Mission Report
Agent Victor Henrickson
Over my strenuous objections, the pre-operational analysis was that, considering the subject's close bond with his brother, agents would approach the elder Winchester first, and convince him to release his brother into the Company's custody. My own beliefs were that neither Winchester would release themselves willing into unknown hands, nor would they allow themselves to be separated for any length of time. Unsurprisingly, when Dean Winchester met the prospect of being separated from Samuel, Agent Kendall and myself were met with hostility, which we returned in due course.
---
The ground began to shake in earnest, and Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd had to deal with a real earthquake. Her father's gun was cool and reassuring in her hand, but she couldn't aim right without losing her balance entirely. Her first shot went wild, and the agent, whose powers were probably causing the quake started to walk forward. Distantly she noted that the other agent was on top of Dean, struggling for Dean's gun. Sam grabbed her free wrist, his massive hand covering it entirely. "Come on, let's get out of here."
He didn't wait for her to answer, and she would have just agreed even if she had. He was strong enough that he could probably carry her if she said no. As it was, they ran and she felt like she was barely taking a step, like he was carrying her along with him. She spared a moment to wish Sam had West's power, as they dashed down the street, feeling the ground move less and less violently the farther they went. They skittered to a halt in front of a broad section of park fronting a beach, and Claire tugged on Sam's hand. "Towards the trees," she suggested.
A shot rang out behind them. The first time she had heard a gun go off, she'd thought it was impossibly loud, but now it seemed hardly noticeable. That was possibly because neither of them had actually gotten shot, although it seemed the bullet hadn't been entirely off its mark. Sam let go of her hand as they both raced for the minimal cover the trees provided. She risked a glance back, and saw that it was the red-haired man, the one with powers who was following them. He aimed again, and Claire sped up. They were running fast enough that the smallest trip could send them both flying, so she shoved Sam as hard as she could, and he tripped, going down just as the agent fired again. Claire half-turned again, to see if the shot had gone wild, just as she felt the impact. Her own momentum combined with the speed of the bullet's blow, sent her tumbling back. There was pain, and warm wetness spreading across her chest. She couldn't focus for a long minute, although she could hear, over the blood rushing in her ears, the sound of Sam yelling and the thud of Sam's fist crashing into the agent's jaw.
And then someone picked her up. She coughed, and frowned at finding she made no sound, just coughed up a little bit of blood. Sam said something, and pressed on the wound. He there was a note of desperation in his voice and Claire wished her head would clear so she could understand what he was babbling about when he pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't forceful or tender or any other adjective she might have assigned to a kiss. Especially when he sat back and started pumping on her chest. She coughed again, and he pressed his mouth back against hers.
For a moment Claire blacked out, probably because of the blood loss and the bullet nicking her lung, rather than anything Sam was doing, but when she woke up, she found Sam's lips still on hers, still trying to give clumsy CPR. She exhaled, feeling like she could finally breathe again, and reached up to grab a handful of his shirt. She'd intended to use the grip to shove the large man off her, but he gasped into her mouth, and an pleased, warm feeling pooled in her veins and she playfully nipped at his lips instead.
Sam sat up, fingers pressed to his lips. "Claire? How are you? Why are you--?"
She coughed again, to clear her throat of the left-over blood and shrugged. "God, that stung. You'd think they could at least have bad aim or something. Bullets in the lung are bitch to get out."
With a shaky, exhaled laugh, Sam stood up and offered his hand to Claire. "You really do heal fast." Claire was about to take it, when motion behind Sam caught her eye. The agent, who had been crumpled on the ground in a beaten heap, was stirring. He looked up at her balefully and frowned, his face set in a familiar sort of concentration. The ground beneath them began to rumble again and Claire looked around. Her gun had fallen from her hands not too far away and she jumped for it. The ground wasn't trembling enough to disturb her aim this time, her focus had narrowed to his ugly face, the way he was concentrating on trying to hurt them both. She pulled the trigger, and knew she'd hit her mark when a spray of blood exploded from the man's forehead on impact. She sat back, still feeling as though the earth was trying to shake her to pieces.
Sam knelt next to the agent, turning him over gingerly. There was no way the man was walking away from that one. Claire wouldn't look him in the eyes. She slipped the gun back into her purse and waited for her limbs to stop shivering.
State of California County of San Diego
Death Certificate
I, BRIAN WERZTEL, Clerk of the City Commission in the County and State aforesaid, it being an office of record, and having a seal, do hereby certify that the records in my office show that
JACK KENDALL died at 4:25PM in San Diego County and the State of California on the 28TH day of AUGUST, 2008
Sex MALE; Age 34 YEARS
Name of Disease or Cause of Death GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE HEAD
Occupation UNKNOWN
As shown by Certificate of Death returned by Dr SIMON FERARRO and recorded in Death Report No. 5 at page 3.
Certificate filed AUG., 2008.
---
Dean stripped Henrickson of his suit, and, using the handcuffs in the man's pocket-- once a cop always a cop-- tied him up in the laundry room before going after Sam.
"What does it take to get rid of you?" he asked Henrickson, who leaned, irritated and bloodied, next to a pay washer that had seen better days forty years ago.
"More than it takes to get rid of you three, hopefully," Henrickson responded, cracking open one eye. "I'll be seeing you, Winchester."
Dean snorted at that and slammed the door shut. He wasn't sure which way Sam had gone exactly, but he knew the vague direction, so he chose a street and walked towards the beach. At the corner he paused, trying to decide when Sam and Claire turned it in the other direction, looking distinctly worse for the wear. "Hey!" he yelped, and Claire went for the gun in her purse again. He should have guessed that someone that cute would be more dangerous than she looked, if she was coming after Sam.
He raised his hands. "Sam, don't let your girlfriend shoot me, okay? Jesus." The look Sam and Claire shared spoke more than words, especially since Sam was no good at keeping his thoughts from his face. "Shit, Sammy, where's the other guy?"
Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "Dead."
Dean looked from Claire to Sam and back again, trying to decide who was more likely to have killed a human. Sam was too scrupulous, and even though she looked sweet, the defensive jut of her jaw made Claire the likely suspect. "Fuck, you killed him?" She didn't look like a murderer, and the way she shifted her weight and looked down at the ground and then up again said more about her than she probably realized.
"He shot me," she snapped. And, indeed, there was a bullet hole and a large bloodstain across her chest. She was standing and walking around, so clearly she was all right, though. "And he probably would have killed you and kidnapped Sam."
"And Henrickson?" Sam asked, distracting Dean from his examination of Claire's condition.
"He's an ass, but he's our ass," Dean replied without thinking. At Sam's arched eyebrow, Dean shook his head. "That came out wrong. He's locked up, and won't be getting away until the next time someone wants to wash their dirty underwear."
Feds Caught With Pants Down After Earthquake In La Jolla
M. Dowd
When Maria Gossens decided to wash her laundry at the Aquatic Rose motel after the mysterious La Jolla earthquake on Thursday, she never expected to stumble over a federal agent. She told the INQUIRER in an exclusive story that she found FBI Special Agent Victor Henrickson handcuffed and nearly naked in the basement laundry room. "He was very polite," she said, "but also mysterious. When he heard about the earthquake warnings, he asked to borrow a pair of my husband's pants and ran off."
Gossens, 42, believes that the government must have had a hand in the earthquake, which puzzled scientists by following no fault line or natural stressors.
---
When they returned to the motel room, Sam lent Claire a t-shirt to replace her torn and dirty one. She looked small and fragile in his oversize grey shirt, especially since she'd finally put down her bag in order to change. "Look, Claire, I have to thank you. I mean, I don't know much about these guys, but now that I know they're out there, I can protect myself. You took a bullet for me too. I mean, I know you got better, but that's still not something everyone would do."
Claire smoothed the hem of the shirt and smiled a little smile. Then she leaned up and pressed a little kiss to his cheek. She smelled like vanilla perfume and a little like blood. "Thanks, Sam. I have to get back home now." She held up her phone and smiled her dazzling smile. "I got a new text message. And I need to find my dad. Try not to get shot at again."
Sam bit back a wry smile, his cheeks turning slowly pink. "Good luck."
When the door shut behind her, Dean said "Dude, she wanted you so bad."
"Shut up, Dean."
"Come on! She was hot. I'll bet she'd even look cute in a cheerleader uniform."
"She is a cheerleader. Seriously, Dean, shut up."
"If you're not feeling up to it, I'll pinch-hit."
"Dean. Shut. Up."
Primatech
Memorandum
Date: 8/29/08
Subject Sam Winchester should be taken off the current Assignment Tracker at this time. Agent Surveillance was incorrect [see: Correction Form 12-AD4]. Genetic tests run on samples brought back by Agent Henrickson from assignment M-124-16 confirm that Samuel Winchester is not an evolved human.
However, his profile should not be deleted from the database. Tests are still being run, as traces of toxins in his blood may still lead to other assignments.
Gael Cruz