Perspectives 2/2
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The desk clerk, whose nametag read “Tricia,” looked up as they came to her. “Hello, gentlemen. May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Victor. “We need a room-two queens, please.”
Tricia nodded. “We have two available-144 and 242. And....” She growled suddenly and, eyes on them intently, leaned over the desk. “And the equipment messes up. G-d , but it’s been a long night...”
The men shot each other an uneasy glance. “Uh, 144’s fine,” said Victor.
“All right, 144 it is... c’mon, c’mon... okay, there.” Two keys spat out. “144.”
Victor nodded and picked up one key. “Thank you, Miss....”
“Mrs. Winchester.”
“Mrs. Winchester?” Jacob echoed.
“Yes,” she replied with a smile.
“Er... pardon me for asking, but... what’s your husband’s name?”
“Sam.”
“If... if you don’t mind, ma’am, I have some questions I’d like to ask...”
“I do mind, sir. Let me finish my shift. Return here at 9, and I will be happy to answer them.”
Jacob nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
She nodded and got back to work. When they left, she dialed home and filled Sam in quickly.
Sam sighed. “All right, querida. We’ll be there.”
“Gracias. Te amo.” She hung up and sighed.
Meanwhile, Jacob and Victor were carrying their bags into their room.
“Nice going, Sullivan,” Victor grumbled.
“What?”
“Alerting Sam Winchester’s wife that you want to ask her questions? You seriously think she’ll be there at 9?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, I doubt it. In fact, we’ll be lucky to find ANY of the Winchesters after this.”
“I’m showing up at 9.”
“You do that. And I’ll watch the parking lot from here.”
At 9, Jacob went down and there was Mrs. Winchester, waiting for him. And with her were another woman and two tall, stern-faced men.
Jacob swallowed hard.
“This is him,” Mrs. Winchester said with a warm smile. “Jacob Sullivan.”
“You want to talk to us, Mr. Sullivan?” asked the taller of the two men, who had his arm wrapped protectively around Mrs. Winchester’s shoulders.
The other two hand-spoke to each other briefly before the woman sat.
Jacob swallowed hard again. “You’re Sam Winchester?”
The taller man nodded.
“I, uh... I’m doing a story on Cazadore, some of the... um... mysterious deaths that have occurred here over the last fifteen years or so.”
Sam gestured and they all sat down.
They waited for him to begin. “I thought you had some questions,” Sam said at last.
“Uh, yes. Sorry, I just... wasn’t expecting to speak to more than Mrs. Winchester, and it’s been... kind of a rough week.”
“It’ll be okay,” Mrs. Winchester said. “This will save you having to do four interviews instead of just one.”
Jacob took a deep breath. “So, how long have you guys lived in Cazadore?”
“I have lived here since my parents immigrated from Mexico,” Mrs. Winchester said. “I think I was... four? Five?” She shrugged. “I am a citizen, though, as my mother was born in America. My father became a citizen when I was ten.”
“I was born here,” the other woman said.
“And... you, sir?” Jacob asked Mr. Winchester.
“My brother and I moved here just a few months before my 12th birthday.”
Jacob glanced over at the other man. “Sir?”
He nodded. “I’m his brother.”
“Dean?”
“Yes.”
“And what brought you down here?”
“Our father,” they chorused.
“Oh? What about him?”
“He’s why we moved here,” Dean said.
“I don’t understand.”
“We came here to get away from our dad.”
“Oh. I see. And when, uh, did these mysterious deaths start?”
“People die every day, Mister Sutton.”
“Sullivan. No, I mean like... like the man from Louisiana who was killed at the garage.”
“The murderer.”
“... I’m sorry?”
“He was a murderer. Serial killer, in fact.”
“So why did he come here?”
“Would love to know that myself.”
“What about Gordon Walker? Why did he come here after he escaped from prison?”
Sam snorted. “He thought I was the Antichrist. He was completely insane.”
“Jacob Adler?”
“Stabbed in the diner.”
“But why was he here?”
Four shrugs.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that there have been so many violent deaths here?”
“You wouldn’t ask that in New York,” Mrs. Winchester said.
“Well, no, but this is a much smaller town than New York.”
“We don’t have any more than any other city. And we’re not that far from Houston and Beaumont.”
Jacob sighed. “Do you happen to know a Fergus McLeod?”
They looked at each other, then shook their heads. “Should we?” Dean asked.
“He claims he was sent here to... to do something. And he’s got this weird burn on his arm-maybe you can identify it for me....” He reached for his phone.
All eyes were suddenly on him.
“Uh... here.” He pulled up the picture and handed it to Mrs. Winchester, who seemed like the least intimidating of the four.
Her face suddenly shuttered and she handed it to Sam. “Binding link,” she hissed.
“What?” Dean yelped, lunging for the phone.
Jacob looked from one brother to the other nervously. “A what?” Belatedly, he remembered what Ash had said, though he still wasn’t sure Ash had been quite all there.
But he was now being ignored. “Is this Crowley, do you think?” Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. “That’s the only person I can think of. This is where he went.”
Jacob blinked. “Crowley? What-who’s Crowley?”
They seemed to realize he was there again. “Uh,” Sam said.
Jacob decided to go out on a limb. “Fergus showed me that to try to warn me not to come down here.”
“Christo!” the four snapped in unison.
Jacob jumped. “What?!”
“What was your business with him?” Dean asked, and suddenly the tables had turned. This was no longer an interview, but an interrogation with four very dangerous people doing the interrogating.
“I... I was doing research for this story... I wanted to talk to Meg Masters, but....”
“Meg?”
“S-s-she was on my list of contacts....”
“Give me the rest of that list.”
Jacob fumbled in his briefcase and pulled it out.
Dean ran down it. “Sammy.”
Sam looked at Dean. “What?”
“Look.” He handed it over.
Sam looked and swore. “It’s EVERYONE,” he growled as he handed it to the smaller of the women.
She kept up what was apparently a running commentary with her hand as she read.
“Where’d you get that list?” Dean demanded.
Jacob just stared, stunned.
“Dammit, Sullivan, who’s your source?!”
Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Groves. Steven Groves, Deputy Director of the FBI.”
Sam had his phone out in a flash. “Mike? We’ve got a problem.”
“I am not at your beck and call, Samuel.”
“I know that, but it’s a national emergency. We think the deputy director of the FBI is possessed.”
Silence for ten seconds. “I shall be at your location in one minute. I am assuming it would be better to use the door rather than appear.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, there’s a civilian here.”
The call disconnected.
Immediately across town, Bill Cooper’s cell rang.
With an unfamiliar number.
“Jello?” he answered.
“I am using this in case you are with people,” his older brother’s voice rumbled.
“What’s up, bro?”
“National emergency, potentially. How soon can you get to the Starlight?”
“As fast as you can. I’ll bring Cas-do we need Kali, too?”
“Don’t know, yet. Do you think she would care about one of this country’s most powerful men being possessed?”
“As much as she hates demons? Yeah, I’d say so. We’ll be there in a blink.” Gabriel hung up and dialed Kali’s cell. “It’s me, toots. Sounds like there’s a demon loose in DC.”
“Proof?” she asked
“Don’t have it yet. The kids need us at the Starlight.”
“I’ll be there.” She hung up.
Gabriel blew out a breath and pocketed his phone. “C’mon, Cas.”
“Where?” came the call from upstairs.
“Starlight. And we’re going in the front door.”
Castiel came downstairs, buckling his belt in the jeans and not in his trench.
Gabriel blinked. “That’s a new look. Comfy?”
“The brothers have inspired me,” he smiled slightly. “Surprisingly comfortable.”
Gabriel smiled. “Let’s go.”
They flew directly to the motel and landed in the parking lot at the same time Michael and Kali appeared. Kali flicked a glare toward one of the rooms before Michael led them inside.
“You again,” Jacob groaned as the Coopers walked into the lobby, accompanied by a dark-skinned woman.
“Him?” Cas asked, an eyebrow raising.
Dean likewise raised an eyebrow. “Y’all have met?”
“Oh, yeah, we’ve met,” Bill replied. “Small towns, y’know. Where’s your shadow, Jacob?”
“In the room.”
“Good. This may take more explaining than he’s willing to hear. What’s the word, kids?”
In silence, Sam handed him the list.
Bill scanned it and handed it to Mike.
Mike nodded slowly. “Explain.”
All eyes were on Jacob, who nervously explained the whole story. “I was just writing a story, I swear,” he concluded.
“Just a story?” Dean growled.
Jacob nodded frantically.
“Used,” the brothers snarled.
“... Used?”
“Time to talk to that partner of his,” Bill stated.
As if on cue, Victor walked in. “Sullivan, what the hell’s going on here?”
Jacob jerked to his feet but didn’t say anything.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bill stated.
Victor hissed, “Who are you?”
“Well, you’ve met us. This is my cousin Carol. And these are the Winchesters-Tricia, Sam, Dean, and Daphne.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You did come....”
Tricia nodded. “I said I would.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Sam added, rubbing her shoulder.
Victor just glared.
“And you are?”
“Victor Henricksen.”
Dean’s chin rose. “You were investigating Dad.”
“Sullivan, to the room. Now.”
Jacob started to obey, but the Coopers blocked the door. “Not so fast,” said Bill. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“Out of my way, skinny,” Victor snapped.
“Sit down,” Mike rumbled-and a chair pushed itself into the backs of Victor’s knees.
He gasped as he sat.
“Why have you come to Cazadore?”
Victor was compelled to speak true. He visibly fought, but-“... investigate... deaths.”
“Why?”
“... ordered....”
“By whom?”
“D-d-d-deputy D-director... G-Groves.”
“Why should the FBI be so concerned about this town?”
“Don’t... know.”
“What do you think, Mike?” Dean asked.
“I think we’re needed in DC.”
“All of us?”
“No. That’s not necessary.”
“All right, who’s going?”
“Well, the girls should stay,” Sam said. “Not that they’re not capable, but I don’t want them in harm’s way while they’re pregnant.”
Tricia’s hand went to her stomach, and Jacob saw her shirt move where there was a jump against her belly.
Bill nodded. “Yeah, and you two are needed here. Mind covering my classes, Sam?”
“Uh, that one conflicts with my lunch,” Sam pointed out. “I can combine all but that one.”
Dean shrugged. “That’s my conference period. I can take it.”
Sam nodded. “There you go.”
Bill nodded once. “Great. Could use someone with a badge, though....”
“Robichaux,” Carol, previously silent, spoke up.
Bill pulled out his cell phone and called. Moments later, a police officer who looked like he was about the Winchesters’ age walked in. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“You up for a trip?” Bill asked.
“Sure. Where to?”
“DC. On business.”
“I’ll have to let Frank know, but sure.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
The officer turned to him. “Josh Robichaux, Cazadore Police. And you are?”
“Victor Henricksen. FBI.”
“Agent.” Robichaux walked over to shake Victor’s hand. “What brings you to Cazadore?”
“Can we speak in private?”
Robichaux raised an eyebrow. “If you’re the reason we have business in DC, there’s no reason we can’t talk here.”
Victor glared at the Winchesters.
“What? The Winchesters are leaders of our neighborhood watch program; they’ve been working with us for over a decade. They’re trustworthy.”
“Fine. We are here investigating several murders.”
“Let me guess. You’re curious about the Walker case in particular.”
“Yes.”
“Walker was a homicidal maniac with a vendetta against Sam. I was the arresting officer the first time he showed up in Cazadore; he’d shot the owner of the gun shop, taken Bill hostage, and was trying to get information on Sam at gunpoint. He’d resisted arrest then, so when an anonymous tip came in that he’d escaped and was headed back here, I knew he’d try to kill me if I didn’t kill him first. The tip also said he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, hence the machete.”
Victor blinked.
The corner of Robichaux’s mouth quirked up. “Elementary, my dear Henricksen.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I do-because it’s the truth.” Robichaux’s smile broadened. “Well, I could tell you that I’m psychic and that Walker had been turned into a vampire-but you definitely wouldn’t believe that.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
“So why the sudden interest?”
Jacob spoke up. “We were sent in.”
Robichaux turned to him. “Who’s ‘we’?”
He gasped. “... hi.”
“Hi. Who are you?”
“Jacob. I’m a reporter.”
“A reporter? On assignment from the FBI?”
“Yes.”
Robichaux turned to the Winchesters, frowning in confusion, and made some kind of hand signs. They answered him in kind, and he sighed. “Aw, hell. Yeah, Coop, I’m definitely in.”
Jacob stood. “Wait... what was that?”
“It’s called American Sign Language,” Robichaux returned in a tone that implied that he thought Jacob was an idiot.
“But none of you are deaf!”
“So?”
“I’ve just....” He sat back down.
Robichaux turned to the Coopers. “When do we leave?”
“When can you be ready?” Mike asked.
Robichaux shrugged. “Fifteen?”
The Coopers nodded.
Robichaux nodded as well, then signed a farewell to the Winchesters, nodded once each to Jacob and Victor, and left.
Jacob quailed under Victor’s glare.
“Ease up on the kid,” Bill said. “He doesn’t know any better than to tell the truth. All right, gang, let’s get a move on. Winchesters all, good day. Oh, and Jacob? Homework.” He winked, and all four Coopers left at once.
He nodded. Then, ignoring Victor, he went back to their room to do his homework.
Victor stormed after him. “What the hell, Sullivan?!”
Without speaking, he opened up his laptop.
“You’re not his student! Why the hell are you listening to him?”
“Leave me alone, Victor.”
Victor huffed. “Should have known this was a bad idea.”
Jacob glared at him before heading back to work.
“I’m hungry. Want anything?”
“No, thank you.”
Victor grabbed his keys and left.
Jacob breathed a sigh of relief as the atmosphere seemed to lighten.
It took some doing, but Jacob finally managed to find information about the serial killing Ness had investigated in Cleveland. Some bodies had turned up drained of blood; other missing persons were eventually found in a warehouse with their heads cut off.
“Exsanguinated,” he breathed. “But the beheadings?”
More digging and a touch of hacking garnered him the coroner’s reports on the beheading victims and the photos of the crime scenes. Each of the exsanguinated victims had a weird bite mark on his or her neck... and each of the beheading victims had an extra set of super-sharp teeth.
Jacob sat back, wiping a hand over his nose and mouth. “Vampires,” he breathed.
Mike Cooper had said as much. But... what had Bill Cooper said about Walker?
Jacob pulled out the file he’d gotten from Groves and looked over the coroner’s report on Walker. Sure enough, Walker had had the same extra set of teeth.
He whistled, stunned.
Robichaux had told the truth-at least... if one could believe that vampires were real.
And they certainly seemed to believe it was real.
Vampires. Ghosts. Demons. Were the Winchesters and their friends crazy? Was he crazy? Who did he believe? And if he believed the Winchesters... were they right about Groves, too?
Meanwhile, Victor grabbed a box of chicken strips from a drive-through and drove aimlessly for a time, looking for a place to eat and try to cool down enough not to wring Sullivan’s neck when he got back to the motel. Every time he thought he had enough to put John Winchester away for life, things always went pear-shaped, and this time he was stuck with a greenhorn reporter who was only making things worse. He was beginning to wonder whether he’d ever catch a break.
Then he caught sight of the street signs at an intersection where he had to stop... and one of them was the street Winchester lived on.
It was tricky to try a stakeout in broad daylight in a small town like this, but Victor couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Winchester was under house arrest anyway, and Victor had a badge to flash at any neighbors who got curious. There was a risk Winchester would start shooting, of course, but Victor didn’t think that was likely as long as Winchester didn’t know who he was.
Having thus made up his mind, Victor turned onto Winchester’s street and found the right house easily enough. Winchester’s black truck was in the driveway, so Victor thought it reasonable to assume the man was home. Then he parked, started eating, and watched the house, which seemed still and quiet. He didn’t catch sight of any eyes at windows, any curtains moving, or any other sign that Winchester knew he was there.
About the time he’d finished his chicken, though, the front door opened. Winchester stood in the doorway but didn’t cross the threshold. Instead, he called, “You gonna sit out there all day, or you want to come in and have some coffee?”
Victor frowned. He hadn’t expected that. But there was no way the entire block hadn’t heard Winchester’s invitation, which effectively put Victor on the spot. He sighed, wiped his hands, and got out of the car.
“You must be Agent Henricksen,” Winchester said as Victor reached the porch.
“That’s right,” Victor replied.
Winchester nodded. “Boys told me you were in town. John Winchester.” And damned if he didn’t hold out his hand.
Feeling like the whole neighborhood was watching, Victor shook hands with the man he’d been hunting for years.
“Sorry we can’t do this outside,” Winchester continued, all but pulling Victor into the house. “House arrest. I’m sure you understand. Besides, the chairs are more comfortable in here.”
“Can’t say I do understand, but I also can’t say I object to a comfortable chair.”
Winchester smiled, and Victor got the sense that he’d passed some kind of test. “Sit down, Agent. Make yourself at home. I’ll get us that coffee.”
Victor stayed standing and watched as Winchester went into the kitchen and opened the dishwasher, releasing a cloud of steam that indicated that it had just run. “You want it known that I’m here, don’t you?”
“That’s right. And I want you to know that the neighbors know you’re here. I’m already under house arrest, so you’re not taking me anywhere today. And there’d be too many witnesses if you don’t come out, so you know I won’t do anything to you.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind if there’s a conspiracy here to cover your crimes.”
Winchester snorted and pulled two mugs out of the dishwasher, dried them both with the same towel, then poured coffee into both from the same carafe, making sure Victor could watch his hands the whole time. “I take mine black. You?”
“Black is fine.”
Winchester brought both mugs into the living room, handed one to Victor, and raised the other in salute before taking a drink. “Sit down,” he repeated, motioning toward the couch with his mug as he sat down in the recliner.
Victor set his mug on a coaster on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, watching as Winchester took another long drink of coffee.
When Winchester had finished, he looked at Victor curiously. “Agent, I’ve been in this town, in this house, for over three years. If you wanted me, you could have turned up for the trial, or you could have come down any time since then. Why are you here now?”
“The Bureau’s gotten complaints from the family of a man who died here.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Jacob Adler.”
Winchester frowned. “Adler, Adler, where-the-the stabbing at Maggie’s?”
“That’s the one. I understand he came down here looking for you.”
Winchester settled back in his seat and looked at Victor for a moment, calculating. Then he leaned forward. “Henricksen, I’m gonna level with you. When Adler came down here, he was not himself. Literally.”
“How do you mean?”
“He gave the surname Adler, all right, but the first name he gave was Zachariah.”
Victor blinked. “Multiple personalities?”
“If you like.”
“So why was he here?”
“Good question. I’d never met him before in my life. Never spoke to him myself, either, but his story kept changing. He told Dean he needed something from a storage unit I had in Buffalo-which is no longer the case, by the way, not that there was anything illegal in there. He threatened my bosses at the garage when they wouldn’t tell him where I was. Then he tried to get to Sam with some cockeyed story about a business proposition.”
“Then what-”
Victor’s question was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” Winchester called.
The door opened, and a balding older man poked his head in. “John. Was just on my way to Beaumont for groceries, thought I’d see if you need anything.”
“There’s a list on the fridge.”
The other man nodded and came inside but stopped short when he saw Victor. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know you had company.”
“This is Agent Victor Henricksen, FBI. My father-in-law, Samuel Campbell.”
Victor frowned as he stood. “Samuel Campbell. But-from the files I read, Samuel Campbell died of a heart attack in 1973.”
Campbell chuckled and came over to shake hands with Victor. “Welcome to Cazadore, Agent Henricksen.”
“No, I’m serious. This-this is impossible. You can’t be Mary Winchester’s father-you don’t look a day over 60.”
Campbell laughed, but the laugh crackled a little. “It’s catching up to me, believe me.”
“Sure it’s a good idea to be shakin’ hands with strangers, old man?” Winchester jibed. “After what happened the last time you caught the crud?”
“Ah, there were worse germs in that hospital,” Campbell shot back and went to the kitchen to retrieve the list Winchester had mentioned. “Or so I’m told-what the hell is murrsal, anyway?”
“MRSA-methicillin-resistant Staph aureus.”
“I remember when penicillin was the wonder drug. Never thought bacteria’d be as hard to kill as the Third Reich.” There was a tiny pause in that sentence, Victor thought, but he couldn’t imagine why. But Campbell didn’t give him much time to wonder, just grabbed the list and left with a nod to each of the other men.
“You’re not wrong,” Winchester said quietly as Victor kept staring at the closed door in confusion. “I went to his funeral. Nobody was more shocked than I was when he showed up here at the end of November.” When Victor turned to him in surprise, he added even more quietly, “And he hadn’t aged a day.”
Victor sat down. “Then-what-”
Winchester raised his mug again in salute. “Welcome to Cazadore.”
Without thinking, Victor grabbed his own mug and drank. It wasn’t until he swallowed that he realized what he’d done-but the coffee tasted normal, and he didn’t feel any ill effects. “November,” he repeated then. “After Adler’s death, then.”
Winchester nodded.
“Did he say why he’d come?”
“One of Adler’s associates sent him. Guy called himself Uriel; I don’t know his real name. Like Walker, he had some crazy idea that Sam is the Antichrist. Wherever it was he found Samuel, he sent him down here to scout-and to kill Sam depending on what he found.”
Victor frowned. “But Sam’s still alive, and Samuel’s still here.”
“That’s right. Unlike Walker, Samuel actually pays attention to the evidence. Within a week, he’d seen enough to know he’d been lied to. Not only that, he acknowledges Sam as his grandson. He told Uriel to go to hell. He’s still here because his own life would be in danger now if he left.”
“Fergus McLeod and Meg Masters?”
“Same incident, and they’re in hiding for the same reason. They were actually on Uriel’s side until the plan failed.”
“And four months later....”
Winchester raised an eyebrow. “I’ll ask you again, Henricksen. Why are you here now?”
Victor slumped back, trying to get his thoughts in order. This conversation wasn’t fitting in with the picture he’d had of Winchester these last few years, and to be frank, he had only Winchester’s word for any of this story. Yet it did fit with the statements they’d gotten from McLeod, the Harvelles, and the Coopers, and it would explain why the Coopers and the younger Winchesters were so concerned something hinky was going on in Washington. “Are you saying....”
“I’m saying the same people who tried to use Samuel are trying to use you. To get to me, to get to the boys, I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Wish I could tell you.”
“And d-do you think my life is at risk?”
Winchester shrugged. “Depends on what Josh and the Coopers find in DC. Uriel’s dead, but if your boss is working with his and Adler’s cabal, you can’t report back to him until they finish with him.”
Victor’s eyes widened. “They’re going to kill-”
Winchester held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. It probably won’t come to that. If anything, what they’ll do will most likely restore him to his right mind. But there’s a chance he could die for some other reason that won’t be their fault.”
Victor stood and scrambled for his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve got to stop them, gotta warn-”
“Victor,” Winchester barked. Sharp, stern, dangerous.
Victor froze. He’d let his guard down too far. He was trapped, and he knew it.
Then Winchester sighed, and the killer was gone again. “Even if I did let you call... there’s nothing you could do. It’s probably over by now.”
Frowning, Victor turned back to him. “What-that’s a three-hour flight, minimum, and those people haven’t had time to get as far as Houston yet!”
Winchester chuckled. “Like I said. Welcome to Cazadore.”
Victor was still staring at Winchester when his phone rang.
“Go on,” Winchester said with a nod, relaxing slightly. “Answer it.”
Not taking his eyes off Winchester, Victor picked up. “Henricksen.”
“Victor!” sobbed Groves’ secretary, Valleri. “Oh, Victor, it’s horrible....”
“What happened?”
“Director Groves-he’s-he’s had a heart attack! He’s dead!”
Victor frowned. “Heart attack?”
“They did CPR, but it was too late.”
“Wait, who did CPR?”
“The Indian lady. Uh, C-Carol Cooper?”
Bewildered, Victor sat down. “Wait, Val, start over. Who is this Indian lady?”
Valleri sniffled. “There-there was this family from Texas who said they needed to talk to him. They had a city officer with ’em. Groves said to show ’em in, so they went in and talked, and all of a sudden I heard this yell, and the one brother and the officer ran out and said to call for an ambulance, so I did. And th-then I went to s-s-see if I could help, and... he was on the floor, and she was doing CPR, and they thought he might already be dead, but they h-h-h-had to t-t-try....” She broke down sobbing again.
“You’re sure it was a heart attack?”
“Uh-huh.” She hiccupped. “The... EMTs said... h-he w-was probably... probably dead before he hit the floor.”
“And there was nothing that might suggest that the Coopers had anything to do with it.”
“No. They went through security all right, and there’s no blood or anything. There was some... weird sulfur residue on his desk, but... it w-wasn’t, like, gunpowder or poison or anything. Just sulfur.”
“I see.” Victor suddenly felt woozy from the shock. “Thanks, Val. K-keep me informed.” And he hung up.
“Need some Irish in that coffee?” Winchester asked gently.
Victor shook his head. “No. Thanks.” He slumped back and tried to gather his wits. “She said they found sulfur on his desk.”
“Demon.”
“You use sulfur to kill demons?”
Winchester snorted. “Hardly. But sometimes it’s a trace they leave behind.”
“I thought you said-”
“It wasn’t our doing,” Cas Cooper interrupted from behind Victor.
Victor jumped to his feet and spun to face Cooper, who was standing behind the couch as if he’d been there all along. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“That hardly matters right now. John is correct. We exorcised Steven, but he was already dead by the time the demon left him. For the sake of the Bureau, we attempted to revive him, but we were not successful.”
“For the sake of the Bureau?” Victor repeated.
Winchester snorted.
Victor had to fight the urge to hyperventilate. “Old men who come back from the dead... schoolteachers who appear and disappear at will... what the hell is this place?”
“Our home,” Winchester said simply.
Victor was still trying to figure out what to say or do next when a sudden thunderclap made him jump.
Winchester swore and stood. “Cas?”
“I’m not sure,” Cooper replied, looking around.
“Not sure what?” Victor prompted.
“How many.”
Just then the door banged open, and Campbell strode in. “John. Demons, a whole horde of ’em. I barely beat ’em back to the city limits.”
Winchester swore again. “Somebody’s desperate. Corporeal?”
“Nope. All smoke.”
“Call the boys. I’ll get Frank. Cas.”
As Campbell went to the wall phone and Winchester grabbed his cell, Cooper came around the couch, and before Victor could back away, Cooper pressed two fingers to Victor’s chest. There was a sharp pain for about a two-inch radius around where the fingers made contact, but it faded almost as quickly as Victor could gasp.
“That’s for protection,” Cooper said gravely. “It’s best for you to stay here, since this house is warded, but should you need to go outside, the tattoo I’ve given you will protect you against possession.”
Victor shook his head and backed toward the door. “No. No, this is insane. I’m l-”
Another loud thunderclap interrupted him, followed by a sudden very heavy cloudburst, followed by the other Cooper brothers strolling in the door.
“Whooooee!” Bill laughed, shaking the rain out of his hair. “Carol’s having fun.”
“You have a strange definition of ‘fun,’ brother,” Mike deadpanned.
Cas laughed. “So does she.”
“Hold on, Dean,” Campbell said into the phone, then put his hand over the receiver and turned to the Coopers. “Is it raining holy water?”
Bill looked painfully innocent. Mike looked dryly amused.
“I think that’s a yes,” Campbell said into the phone.
“Not that it’ll hold ’em off for good,” Bill cautioned. “Until the cavalry gets here, we still need to be on our guard. But this’ll give us time to get set.”
Victor couldn’t take the madness anymore. Heedless of the rain, he bolted out the front door and to his car, paused long enough to catch his breath, and fled back toward the motel.
He was halfway back when the rain stopped. And barely a minute later a cloud of black smoke slammed into his car, tried to ram itself down his throat, recoiled, and settled for rolling the car five times. When that didn’t kill Victor, it seemed to be going for his throat when a bright white light bore down on the car, and the smoke fled. Victor threw an arm up to protect his eyes as the light got closer...
... and then someone was pounding on his window. “Henricksen! Agent Henricksen!”
Victor lowered his arm to see Mike Cooper and Josh Robichaux peering in at him.
“Are you all right?” Robichaux asked.
Victor nodded as he tried to catch his breath. “What... what....”
“Shield your eyes,” Cooper ordered. “We need to break the window.”
Victor covered his face with his hands and turned toward the passenger seat. Sure enough, although his ears were ringing for some reason, he could still hear the glass shattering beside him. Then a hand landed on his shoulder, and he lowered his hands and turned back. Robichaux handed him a knife so he could cut his way out of the seatbelt, and then they steadied him as he shakily crawled out the window.
“You okay?” Robichaux asked again as he took the knife back.
Victor took stock of himself and nodded again. “Shook up, but I’ll be okay. What the hell was that?”
“Hell,” Mike replied. “More specifically, a demon. You should have stayed with us.”
“I know that now, but-” Victor broke off with a curse. “Sullivan. I left him back at the motel.”
“My car’s right here,” Robichaux said, grabbing his arm. “Thanks, Mike.”
Mike nodded and ran off as Victor let Robichaux hustle him into his patrol car. Then Robichaux jumped into the driver’s seat and sped off, lights and siren going full blast.
Victor shifted and winced as a sore muscle protested. “So all this-it’s really happening. I’m not... Winchester didn’t....”
“Slip you some acid?” Robichaux finished, amused. “Nah. It’s all real.”
“And Steven....”
“Had probably been dead for months. Possession sometimes takes a real toll, and it’s worse the longer the person’s possessed. Some people lose their minds once they’re exorcised. Some people die, either because of the strain of the exorcism or because their bodies can’t take the shock of being out of the soul’s control.” Robichaux’s face was grim when Victor looked over at him.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
Robichaux nodded. “I got lucky. I was 13. Worst two weeks of my life, but all it did to me was flip some switch somewhere, left me psychic. Pretty low-grade, too; I’m more sensitive than anything. Thank God Daphne said something to Dean-they saved my life.”
Victor shook his head. “How have I been wasting my life locking up low-level crooks when there’s been something this big out here all along?”
“You didn’t know. Most people don’t. And hey, it’s not like the crooks don’t need locking up.”
“Even in Cazadore?”
Robichaux laughed. “Especially in Cazadore. We still have our fair share of drunks and thefts and domestic disturbances. It’s just that sometimes we get messes like this on top of it,” he added with a glance at the threatening sky before pulling into the motel parking lot.
“Is it safe to leave the car?” Victor asked as they parked.
“Frankly, no. But I’ve got a charm, and you....”
“Cas Cooper did something, said he gave me a tattoo.”
“Good. Then we’re golden. Let’s go.”
But no sooner had they each started to open their doors than another cloud of smoke enveloped the car, rocking it back and forth. Victor was just about to ask what to do when he heard a wild yell, and the smoke stopped rocking the car and turned to attack something else. He jumped out to find Carol Cooper in the middle of the parking lot battling the smoke with a sa-with t-with f-with how many swords?!
“Let’s go!” Robichaux called.
Victor snapped out of it and ran to the door of room 144. He had his key, but apparently Sullivan had locked the burglar chain.
“Go away!!” Sullivan cried, voice shaking in terror.
“In God’s name, Sullivan,” Victor bellowed, “open this door!”
He heard Sullivan scramble toward the door, and a second or two later, he heard the rattle of the chain dropping. “Watch the salt,” Sullivan said, pointing down, as he opened the door.
Victor stepped over the salt and into the room, Robichaux hard on his heels. “You all right?”
Sullivan nodded, wide-eyed and breathless. “The desk clerk called and told me to put salt down. What’s... what’s....”
“Demons,” Robichaux said, making sure the line of salt at the door hadn’t been broken. “Someone Downstairs is getting desperate.”
Victor nodded. “That’s what Winchester said.”
Sullivan nodded absently and looked away, then looked back at Robichaux. “Wait, I thought-weren’t you going to DC?”
“Long story,” Robichaux replied, moving to inspect the window. “But we’re safe here. The salt will keep the demons out long enough for help to arrive.”
“What kind of help?”
Robichaux looked up and around, like he was listening for something. Then he yelped, “Shut your eyes and cover your ears!”
Victor didn’t have to be told twice this time. He clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as tightly as possible, but he was still aware of the loud, bright light that swept past the motel seconds later-the same loud, bright light that had driven off the demon that had attacked him earlier. He wasn’t sure how long it was before the light faded into normal sunlight and the ringing in his ears faded into the ringing of the room telephone.
Robichaux answered the phone, spoke into it briefly, and hung up just as Victor finally raised his head. “All clear,” he said-and signed.
“It’s... it’s over?” Sullivan squeaked.
Robichaux nodded his hand, which Victor belatedly remembered was the sign for Yes.
Victor took a deep breath and let it out again, then sank down on the nearest bed. “Is it? I mean, truly over?”
Robichaux blinked. “How do you mean?”
“Samuel Campbell can’t leave.”
Robichaux chuckled. “Samuel’s a special case. And besides, I think he’s sticking around at least until the great-grands are born.”
Victor managed to crack a smile at that. “But if this kind of thing keeps happening....”
“Actually, this... hasn’t happened before. Not here, anyway. Again, special case, and extremely localized. That said, now that you know... you’ve got some choices to make.”
“Yeah,” said Sullivan. “Kind of like Eliot Ness.”
Robichaux smiled.
Victor took another deep breath and stood. “Well, I think I know what to tell the Bureau about Adler.”
“You do?”
“Multiple personalities, and the psychotic one attacked someone, who killed him in self-defense.”
“Walker?”
“Like you said, you heard he was wearing a vest.”
Robichaux stepped closer. “And Groves?”
“Had a heart attack.”
Robichaux nodded slowly and turned to Sullivan. “What about your story?”
Sullivan smiled wryly. “What story?”
Robichaux smiled back and turned back to Victor. “The Winchesters will want to say goodbye.”
Victor chuckled ruefully. “Probably need one of them to get us back to the airport, now that the rental’s smashed. Just hope I didn’t burn too many bridges.”
“You can repair ’em.” Robichaux offered his hand. “An honest man is always welcome here.”
For the first time in a long time, Victor felt a weight slide off his shoulders as he shook Robichaux’s hand.
The desk clerk, whose nametag read “Tricia,” looked up as they came to her. “Hello, gentlemen. May I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Victor. “We need a room-two queens, please.”
Tricia nodded. “We have two available-144 and 242. And....” She growled suddenly and, eyes on them intently, leaned over the desk. “And the equipment messes up. G-d , but it’s been a long night...”
The men shot each other an uneasy glance. “Uh, 144’s fine,” said Victor.
“All right, 144 it is... c’mon, c’mon... okay, there.” Two keys spat out. “144.”
Victor nodded and picked up one key. “Thank you, Miss....”
“Mrs. Winchester.”
“Mrs. Winchester?” Jacob echoed.
“Yes,” she replied with a smile.
“Er... pardon me for asking, but... what’s your husband’s name?”
“Sam.”
“If... if you don’t mind, ma’am, I have some questions I’d like to ask...”
“I do mind, sir. Let me finish my shift. Return here at 9, and I will be happy to answer them.”
Jacob nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
She nodded and got back to work. When they left, she dialed home and filled Sam in quickly.
Sam sighed. “All right, querida. We’ll be there.”
“Gracias. Te amo.” She hung up and sighed.
Meanwhile, Jacob and Victor were carrying their bags into their room.
“Nice going, Sullivan,” Victor grumbled.
“What?”
“Alerting Sam Winchester’s wife that you want to ask her questions? You seriously think she’ll be there at 9?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Well, I doubt it. In fact, we’ll be lucky to find ANY of the Winchesters after this.”
“I’m showing up at 9.”
“You do that. And I’ll watch the parking lot from here.”
At 9, Jacob went down and there was Mrs. Winchester, waiting for him. And with her were another woman and two tall, stern-faced men.
Jacob swallowed hard.
“This is him,” Mrs. Winchester said with a warm smile. “Jacob Sullivan.”
“You want to talk to us, Mr. Sullivan?” asked the taller of the two men, who had his arm wrapped protectively around Mrs. Winchester’s shoulders.
The other two hand-spoke to each other briefly before the woman sat.
Jacob swallowed hard again. “You’re Sam Winchester?”
The taller man nodded.
“I, uh... I’m doing a story on Cazadore, some of the... um... mysterious deaths that have occurred here over the last fifteen years or so.”
Sam gestured and they all sat down.
They waited for him to begin. “I thought you had some questions,” Sam said at last.
“Uh, yes. Sorry, I just... wasn’t expecting to speak to more than Mrs. Winchester, and it’s been... kind of a rough week.”
“It’ll be okay,” Mrs. Winchester said. “This will save you having to do four interviews instead of just one.”
Jacob took a deep breath. “So, how long have you guys lived in Cazadore?”
“I have lived here since my parents immigrated from Mexico,” Mrs. Winchester said. “I think I was... four? Five?” She shrugged. “I am a citizen, though, as my mother was born in America. My father became a citizen when I was ten.”
“I was born here,” the other woman said.
“And... you, sir?” Jacob asked Mr. Winchester.
“My brother and I moved here just a few months before my 12th birthday.”
Jacob glanced over at the other man. “Sir?”
He nodded. “I’m his brother.”
“Dean?”
“Yes.”
“And what brought you down here?”
“Our father,” they chorused.
“Oh? What about him?”
“He’s why we moved here,” Dean said.
“I don’t understand.”
“We came here to get away from our dad.”
“Oh. I see. And when, uh, did these mysterious deaths start?”
“People die every day, Mister Sutton.”
“Sullivan. No, I mean like... like the man from Louisiana who was killed at the garage.”
“The murderer.”
“... I’m sorry?”
“He was a murderer. Serial killer, in fact.”
“So why did he come here?”
“Would love to know that myself.”
“What about Gordon Walker? Why did he come here after he escaped from prison?”
Sam snorted. “He thought I was the Antichrist. He was completely insane.”
“Jacob Adler?”
“Stabbed in the diner.”
“But why was he here?”
Four shrugs.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that there have been so many violent deaths here?”
“You wouldn’t ask that in New York,” Mrs. Winchester said.
“Well, no, but this is a much smaller town than New York.”
“We don’t have any more than any other city. And we’re not that far from Houston and Beaumont.”
Jacob sighed. “Do you happen to know a Fergus McLeod?”
They looked at each other, then shook their heads. “Should we?” Dean asked.
“He claims he was sent here to... to do something. And he’s got this weird burn on his arm-maybe you can identify it for me....” He reached for his phone.
All eyes were suddenly on him.
“Uh... here.” He pulled up the picture and handed it to Mrs. Winchester, who seemed like the least intimidating of the four.
Her face suddenly shuttered and she handed it to Sam. “Binding link,” she hissed.
“What?” Dean yelped, lunging for the phone.
Jacob looked from one brother to the other nervously. “A what?” Belatedly, he remembered what Ash had said, though he still wasn’t sure Ash had been quite all there.
But he was now being ignored. “Is this Crowley, do you think?” Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. “That’s the only person I can think of. This is where he went.”
Jacob blinked. “Crowley? What-who’s Crowley?”
They seemed to realize he was there again. “Uh,” Sam said.
Jacob decided to go out on a limb. “Fergus showed me that to try to warn me not to come down here.”
“Christo!” the four snapped in unison.
Jacob jumped. “What?!”
“What was your business with him?” Dean asked, and suddenly the tables had turned. This was no longer an interview, but an interrogation with four very dangerous people doing the interrogating.
“I... I was doing research for this story... I wanted to talk to Meg Masters, but....”
“Meg?”
“S-s-she was on my list of contacts....”
“Give me the rest of that list.”
Jacob fumbled in his briefcase and pulled it out.
Dean ran down it. “Sammy.”
Sam looked at Dean. “What?”
“Look.” He handed it over.
Sam looked and swore. “It’s EVERYONE,” he growled as he handed it to the smaller of the women.
She kept up what was apparently a running commentary with her hand as she read.
“Where’d you get that list?” Dean demanded.
Jacob just stared, stunned.
“Dammit, Sullivan, who’s your source?!”
Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Groves. Steven Groves, Deputy Director of the FBI.”
Sam had his phone out in a flash. “Mike? We’ve got a problem.”
“I am not at your beck and call, Samuel.”
“I know that, but it’s a national emergency. We think the deputy director of the FBI is possessed.”
Silence for ten seconds. “I shall be at your location in one minute. I am assuming it would be better to use the door rather than appear.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, there’s a civilian here.”
The call disconnected.
Immediately across town, Bill Cooper’s cell rang.
With an unfamiliar number.
“Jello?” he answered.
“I am using this in case you are with people,” his older brother’s voice rumbled.
“What’s up, bro?”
“National emergency, potentially. How soon can you get to the Starlight?”
“As fast as you can. I’ll bring Cas-do we need Kali, too?”
“Don’t know, yet. Do you think she would care about one of this country’s most powerful men being possessed?”
“As much as she hates demons? Yeah, I’d say so. We’ll be there in a blink.” Gabriel hung up and dialed Kali’s cell. “It’s me, toots. Sounds like there’s a demon loose in DC.”
“Proof?” she asked
“Don’t have it yet. The kids need us at the Starlight.”
“I’ll be there.” She hung up.
Gabriel blew out a breath and pocketed his phone. “C’mon, Cas.”
“Where?” came the call from upstairs.
“Starlight. And we’re going in the front door.”
Castiel came downstairs, buckling his belt in the jeans and not in his trench.
Gabriel blinked. “That’s a new look. Comfy?”
“The brothers have inspired me,” he smiled slightly. “Surprisingly comfortable.”
Gabriel smiled. “Let’s go.”
They flew directly to the motel and landed in the parking lot at the same time Michael and Kali appeared. Kali flicked a glare toward one of the rooms before Michael led them inside.
“You again,” Jacob groaned as the Coopers walked into the lobby, accompanied by a dark-skinned woman.
“Him?” Cas asked, an eyebrow raising.
Dean likewise raised an eyebrow. “Y’all have met?”
“Oh, yeah, we’ve met,” Bill replied. “Small towns, y’know. Where’s your shadow, Jacob?”
“In the room.”
“Good. This may take more explaining than he’s willing to hear. What’s the word, kids?”
In silence, Sam handed him the list.
Bill scanned it and handed it to Mike.
Mike nodded slowly. “Explain.”
All eyes were on Jacob, who nervously explained the whole story. “I was just writing a story, I swear,” he concluded.
“Just a story?” Dean growled.
Jacob nodded frantically.
“Used,” the brothers snarled.
“... Used?”
“Time to talk to that partner of his,” Bill stated.
As if on cue, Victor walked in. “Sullivan, what the hell’s going on here?”
Jacob jerked to his feet but didn’t say anything.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bill stated.
Victor hissed, “Who are you?”
“Well, you’ve met us. This is my cousin Carol. And these are the Winchesters-Tricia, Sam, Dean, and Daphne.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You did come....”
Tricia nodded. “I said I would.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Sam added, rubbing her shoulder.
Victor just glared.
“And you are?”
“Victor Henricksen.”
Dean’s chin rose. “You were investigating Dad.”
“Sullivan, to the room. Now.”
Jacob started to obey, but the Coopers blocked the door. “Not so fast,” said Bill. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”
“Out of my way, skinny,” Victor snapped.
“Sit down,” Mike rumbled-and a chair pushed itself into the backs of Victor’s knees.
He gasped as he sat.
“Why have you come to Cazadore?”
Victor was compelled to speak true. He visibly fought, but-“... investigate... deaths.”
“Why?”
“... ordered....”
“By whom?”
“D-d-d-deputy D-director... G-Groves.”
“Why should the FBI be so concerned about this town?”
“Don’t... know.”
“What do you think, Mike?” Dean asked.
“I think we’re needed in DC.”
“All of us?”
“No. That’s not necessary.”
“All right, who’s going?”
“Well, the girls should stay,” Sam said. “Not that they’re not capable, but I don’t want them in harm’s way while they’re pregnant.”
Tricia’s hand went to her stomach, and Jacob saw her shirt move where there was a jump against her belly.
Bill nodded. “Yeah, and you two are needed here. Mind covering my classes, Sam?”
“Uh, that one conflicts with my lunch,” Sam pointed out. “I can combine all but that one.”
Dean shrugged. “That’s my conference period. I can take it.”
Sam nodded. “There you go.”
Bill nodded once. “Great. Could use someone with a badge, though....”
“Robichaux,” Carol, previously silent, spoke up.
Bill pulled out his cell phone and called. Moments later, a police officer who looked like he was about the Winchesters’ age walked in. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“You up for a trip?” Bill asked.
“Sure. Where to?”
“DC. On business.”
“I’ll have to let Frank know, but sure.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
The officer turned to him. “Josh Robichaux, Cazadore Police. And you are?”
“Victor Henricksen. FBI.”
“Agent.” Robichaux walked over to shake Victor’s hand. “What brings you to Cazadore?”
“Can we speak in private?”
Robichaux raised an eyebrow. “If you’re the reason we have business in DC, there’s no reason we can’t talk here.”
Victor glared at the Winchesters.
“What? The Winchesters are leaders of our neighborhood watch program; they’ve been working with us for over a decade. They’re trustworthy.”
“Fine. We are here investigating several murders.”
“Let me guess. You’re curious about the Walker case in particular.”
“Yes.”
“Walker was a homicidal maniac with a vendetta against Sam. I was the arresting officer the first time he showed up in Cazadore; he’d shot the owner of the gun shop, taken Bill hostage, and was trying to get information on Sam at gunpoint. He’d resisted arrest then, so when an anonymous tip came in that he’d escaped and was headed back here, I knew he’d try to kill me if I didn’t kill him first. The tip also said he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, hence the machete.”
Victor blinked.
The corner of Robichaux’s mouth quirked up. “Elementary, my dear Henricksen.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I do-because it’s the truth.” Robichaux’s smile broadened. “Well, I could tell you that I’m psychic and that Walker had been turned into a vampire-but you definitely wouldn’t believe that.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
“So why the sudden interest?”
Jacob spoke up. “We were sent in.”
Robichaux turned to him. “Who’s ‘we’?”
He gasped. “... hi.”
“Hi. Who are you?”
“Jacob. I’m a reporter.”
“A reporter? On assignment from the FBI?”
“Yes.”
Robichaux turned to the Winchesters, frowning in confusion, and made some kind of hand signs. They answered him in kind, and he sighed. “Aw, hell. Yeah, Coop, I’m definitely in.”
Jacob stood. “Wait... what was that?”
“It’s called American Sign Language,” Robichaux returned in a tone that implied that he thought Jacob was an idiot.
“But none of you are deaf!”
“So?”
“I’ve just....” He sat back down.
Robichaux turned to the Coopers. “When do we leave?”
“When can you be ready?” Mike asked.
Robichaux shrugged. “Fifteen?”
The Coopers nodded.
Robichaux nodded as well, then signed a farewell to the Winchesters, nodded once each to Jacob and Victor, and left.
Jacob quailed under Victor’s glare.
“Ease up on the kid,” Bill said. “He doesn’t know any better than to tell the truth. All right, gang, let’s get a move on. Winchesters all, good day. Oh, and Jacob? Homework.” He winked, and all four Coopers left at once.
He nodded. Then, ignoring Victor, he went back to their room to do his homework.
Victor stormed after him. “What the hell, Sullivan?!”
Without speaking, he opened up his laptop.
“You’re not his student! Why the hell are you listening to him?”
“Leave me alone, Victor.”
Victor huffed. “Should have known this was a bad idea.”
Jacob glared at him before heading back to work.
“I’m hungry. Want anything?”
“No, thank you.”
Victor grabbed his keys and left.
Jacob breathed a sigh of relief as the atmosphere seemed to lighten.
It took some doing, but Jacob finally managed to find information about the serial killing Ness had investigated in Cleveland. Some bodies had turned up drained of blood; other missing persons were eventually found in a warehouse with their heads cut off.
“Exsanguinated,” he breathed. “But the beheadings?”
More digging and a touch of hacking garnered him the coroner’s reports on the beheading victims and the photos of the crime scenes. Each of the exsanguinated victims had a weird bite mark on his or her neck... and each of the beheading victims had an extra set of super-sharp teeth.
Jacob sat back, wiping a hand over his nose and mouth. “Vampires,” he breathed.
Mike Cooper had said as much. But... what had Bill Cooper said about Walker?
Jacob pulled out the file he’d gotten from Groves and looked over the coroner’s report on Walker. Sure enough, Walker had had the same extra set of teeth.
He whistled, stunned.
Robichaux had told the truth-at least... if one could believe that vampires were real.
And they certainly seemed to believe it was real.
Vampires. Ghosts. Demons. Were the Winchesters and their friends crazy? Was he crazy? Who did he believe? And if he believed the Winchesters... were they right about Groves, too?
Meanwhile, Victor grabbed a box of chicken strips from a drive-through and drove aimlessly for a time, looking for a place to eat and try to cool down enough not to wring Sullivan’s neck when he got back to the motel. Every time he thought he had enough to put John Winchester away for life, things always went pear-shaped, and this time he was stuck with a greenhorn reporter who was only making things worse. He was beginning to wonder whether he’d ever catch a break.
Then he caught sight of the street signs at an intersection where he had to stop... and one of them was the street Winchester lived on.
It was tricky to try a stakeout in broad daylight in a small town like this, but Victor couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Winchester was under house arrest anyway, and Victor had a badge to flash at any neighbors who got curious. There was a risk Winchester would start shooting, of course, but Victor didn’t think that was likely as long as Winchester didn’t know who he was.
Having thus made up his mind, Victor turned onto Winchester’s street and found the right house easily enough. Winchester’s black truck was in the driveway, so Victor thought it reasonable to assume the man was home. Then he parked, started eating, and watched the house, which seemed still and quiet. He didn’t catch sight of any eyes at windows, any curtains moving, or any other sign that Winchester knew he was there.
About the time he’d finished his chicken, though, the front door opened. Winchester stood in the doorway but didn’t cross the threshold. Instead, he called, “You gonna sit out there all day, or you want to come in and have some coffee?”
Victor frowned. He hadn’t expected that. But there was no way the entire block hadn’t heard Winchester’s invitation, which effectively put Victor on the spot. He sighed, wiped his hands, and got out of the car.
“You must be Agent Henricksen,” Winchester said as Victor reached the porch.
“That’s right,” Victor replied.
Winchester nodded. “Boys told me you were in town. John Winchester.” And damned if he didn’t hold out his hand.
Feeling like the whole neighborhood was watching, Victor shook hands with the man he’d been hunting for years.
“Sorry we can’t do this outside,” Winchester continued, all but pulling Victor into the house. “House arrest. I’m sure you understand. Besides, the chairs are more comfortable in here.”
“Can’t say I do understand, but I also can’t say I object to a comfortable chair.”
Winchester smiled, and Victor got the sense that he’d passed some kind of test. “Sit down, Agent. Make yourself at home. I’ll get us that coffee.”
Victor stayed standing and watched as Winchester went into the kitchen and opened the dishwasher, releasing a cloud of steam that indicated that it had just run. “You want it known that I’m here, don’t you?”
“That’s right. And I want you to know that the neighbors know you’re here. I’m already under house arrest, so you’re not taking me anywhere today. And there’d be too many witnesses if you don’t come out, so you know I won’t do anything to you.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind if there’s a conspiracy here to cover your crimes.”
Winchester snorted and pulled two mugs out of the dishwasher, dried them both with the same towel, then poured coffee into both from the same carafe, making sure Victor could watch his hands the whole time. “I take mine black. You?”
“Black is fine.”
Winchester brought both mugs into the living room, handed one to Victor, and raised the other in salute before taking a drink. “Sit down,” he repeated, motioning toward the couch with his mug as he sat down in the recliner.
Victor set his mug on a coaster on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, watching as Winchester took another long drink of coffee.
When Winchester had finished, he looked at Victor curiously. “Agent, I’ve been in this town, in this house, for over three years. If you wanted me, you could have turned up for the trial, or you could have come down any time since then. Why are you here now?”
“The Bureau’s gotten complaints from the family of a man who died here.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Jacob Adler.”
Winchester frowned. “Adler, Adler, where-the-the stabbing at Maggie’s?”
“That’s the one. I understand he came down here looking for you.”
Winchester settled back in his seat and looked at Victor for a moment, calculating. Then he leaned forward. “Henricksen, I’m gonna level with you. When Adler came down here, he was not himself. Literally.”
“How do you mean?”
“He gave the surname Adler, all right, but the first name he gave was Zachariah.”
Victor blinked. “Multiple personalities?”
“If you like.”
“So why was he here?”
“Good question. I’d never met him before in my life. Never spoke to him myself, either, but his story kept changing. He told Dean he needed something from a storage unit I had in Buffalo-which is no longer the case, by the way, not that there was anything illegal in there. He threatened my bosses at the garage when they wouldn’t tell him where I was. Then he tried to get to Sam with some cockeyed story about a business proposition.”
“Then what-”
Victor’s question was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” Winchester called.
The door opened, and a balding older man poked his head in. “John. Was just on my way to Beaumont for groceries, thought I’d see if you need anything.”
“There’s a list on the fridge.”
The other man nodded and came inside but stopped short when he saw Victor. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know you had company.”
“This is Agent Victor Henricksen, FBI. My father-in-law, Samuel Campbell.”
Victor frowned as he stood. “Samuel Campbell. But-from the files I read, Samuel Campbell died of a heart attack in 1973.”
Campbell chuckled and came over to shake hands with Victor. “Welcome to Cazadore, Agent Henricksen.”
“No, I’m serious. This-this is impossible. You can’t be Mary Winchester’s father-you don’t look a day over 60.”
Campbell laughed, but the laugh crackled a little. “It’s catching up to me, believe me.”
“Sure it’s a good idea to be shakin’ hands with strangers, old man?” Winchester jibed. “After what happened the last time you caught the crud?”
“Ah, there were worse germs in that hospital,” Campbell shot back and went to the kitchen to retrieve the list Winchester had mentioned. “Or so I’m told-what the hell is murrsal, anyway?”
“MRSA-methicillin-resistant Staph aureus.”
“I remember when penicillin was the wonder drug. Never thought bacteria’d be as hard to kill as the Third Reich.” There was a tiny pause in that sentence, Victor thought, but he couldn’t imagine why. But Campbell didn’t give him much time to wonder, just grabbed the list and left with a nod to each of the other men.
“You’re not wrong,” Winchester said quietly as Victor kept staring at the closed door in confusion. “I went to his funeral. Nobody was more shocked than I was when he showed up here at the end of November.” When Victor turned to him in surprise, he added even more quietly, “And he hadn’t aged a day.”
Victor sat down. “Then-what-”
Winchester raised his mug again in salute. “Welcome to Cazadore.”
Without thinking, Victor grabbed his own mug and drank. It wasn’t until he swallowed that he realized what he’d done-but the coffee tasted normal, and he didn’t feel any ill effects. “November,” he repeated then. “After Adler’s death, then.”
Winchester nodded.
“Did he say why he’d come?”
“One of Adler’s associates sent him. Guy called himself Uriel; I don’t know his real name. Like Walker, he had some crazy idea that Sam is the Antichrist. Wherever it was he found Samuel, he sent him down here to scout-and to kill Sam depending on what he found.”
Victor frowned. “But Sam’s still alive, and Samuel’s still here.”
“That’s right. Unlike Walker, Samuel actually pays attention to the evidence. Within a week, he’d seen enough to know he’d been lied to. Not only that, he acknowledges Sam as his grandson. He told Uriel to go to hell. He’s still here because his own life would be in danger now if he left.”
“Fergus McLeod and Meg Masters?”
“Same incident, and they’re in hiding for the same reason. They were actually on Uriel’s side until the plan failed.”
“And four months later....”
Winchester raised an eyebrow. “I’ll ask you again, Henricksen. Why are you here now?”
Victor slumped back, trying to get his thoughts in order. This conversation wasn’t fitting in with the picture he’d had of Winchester these last few years, and to be frank, he had only Winchester’s word for any of this story. Yet it did fit with the statements they’d gotten from McLeod, the Harvelles, and the Coopers, and it would explain why the Coopers and the younger Winchesters were so concerned something hinky was going on in Washington. “Are you saying....”
“I’m saying the same people who tried to use Samuel are trying to use you. To get to me, to get to the boys, I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Wish I could tell you.”
“And d-do you think my life is at risk?”
Winchester shrugged. “Depends on what Josh and the Coopers find in DC. Uriel’s dead, but if your boss is working with his and Adler’s cabal, you can’t report back to him until they finish with him.”
Victor’s eyes widened. “They’re going to kill-”
Winchester held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. It probably won’t come to that. If anything, what they’ll do will most likely restore him to his right mind. But there’s a chance he could die for some other reason that won’t be their fault.”
Victor stood and scrambled for his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve got to stop them, gotta warn-”
“Victor,” Winchester barked. Sharp, stern, dangerous.
Victor froze. He’d let his guard down too far. He was trapped, and he knew it.
Then Winchester sighed, and the killer was gone again. “Even if I did let you call... there’s nothing you could do. It’s probably over by now.”
Frowning, Victor turned back to him. “What-that’s a three-hour flight, minimum, and those people haven’t had time to get as far as Houston yet!”
Winchester chuckled. “Like I said. Welcome to Cazadore.”
Victor was still staring at Winchester when his phone rang.
“Go on,” Winchester said with a nod, relaxing slightly. “Answer it.”
Not taking his eyes off Winchester, Victor picked up. “Henricksen.”
“Victor!” sobbed Groves’ secretary, Valleri. “Oh, Victor, it’s horrible....”
“What happened?”
“Director Groves-he’s-he’s had a heart attack! He’s dead!”
Victor frowned. “Heart attack?”
“They did CPR, but it was too late.”
“Wait, who did CPR?”
“The Indian lady. Uh, C-Carol Cooper?”
Bewildered, Victor sat down. “Wait, Val, start over. Who is this Indian lady?”
Valleri sniffled. “There-there was this family from Texas who said they needed to talk to him. They had a city officer with ’em. Groves said to show ’em in, so they went in and talked, and all of a sudden I heard this yell, and the one brother and the officer ran out and said to call for an ambulance, so I did. And th-then I went to s-s-see if I could help, and... he was on the floor, and she was doing CPR, and they thought he might already be dead, but they h-h-h-had to t-t-try....” She broke down sobbing again.
“You’re sure it was a heart attack?”
“Uh-huh.” She hiccupped. “The... EMTs said... h-he w-was probably... probably dead before he hit the floor.”
“And there was nothing that might suggest that the Coopers had anything to do with it.”
“No. They went through security all right, and there’s no blood or anything. There was some... weird sulfur residue on his desk, but... it w-wasn’t, like, gunpowder or poison or anything. Just sulfur.”
“I see.” Victor suddenly felt woozy from the shock. “Thanks, Val. K-keep me informed.” And he hung up.
“Need some Irish in that coffee?” Winchester asked gently.
Victor shook his head. “No. Thanks.” He slumped back and tried to gather his wits. “She said they found sulfur on his desk.”
“Demon.”
“You use sulfur to kill demons?”
Winchester snorted. “Hardly. But sometimes it’s a trace they leave behind.”
“I thought you said-”
“It wasn’t our doing,” Cas Cooper interrupted from behind Victor.
Victor jumped to his feet and spun to face Cooper, who was standing behind the couch as if he’d been there all along. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“That hardly matters right now. John is correct. We exorcised Steven, but he was already dead by the time the demon left him. For the sake of the Bureau, we attempted to revive him, but we were not successful.”
“For the sake of the Bureau?” Victor repeated.
Winchester snorted.
Victor had to fight the urge to hyperventilate. “Old men who come back from the dead... schoolteachers who appear and disappear at will... what the hell is this place?”
“Our home,” Winchester said simply.
Victor was still trying to figure out what to say or do next when a sudden thunderclap made him jump.
Winchester swore and stood. “Cas?”
“I’m not sure,” Cooper replied, looking around.
“Not sure what?” Victor prompted.
“How many.”
Just then the door banged open, and Campbell strode in. “John. Demons, a whole horde of ’em. I barely beat ’em back to the city limits.”
Winchester swore again. “Somebody’s desperate. Corporeal?”
“Nope. All smoke.”
“Call the boys. I’ll get Frank. Cas.”
As Campbell went to the wall phone and Winchester grabbed his cell, Cooper came around the couch, and before Victor could back away, Cooper pressed two fingers to Victor’s chest. There was a sharp pain for about a two-inch radius around where the fingers made contact, but it faded almost as quickly as Victor could gasp.
“That’s for protection,” Cooper said gravely. “It’s best for you to stay here, since this house is warded, but should you need to go outside, the tattoo I’ve given you will protect you against possession.”
Victor shook his head and backed toward the door. “No. No, this is insane. I’m l-”
Another loud thunderclap interrupted him, followed by a sudden very heavy cloudburst, followed by the other Cooper brothers strolling in the door.
“Whooooee!” Bill laughed, shaking the rain out of his hair. “Carol’s having fun.”
“You have a strange definition of ‘fun,’ brother,” Mike deadpanned.
Cas laughed. “So does she.”
“Hold on, Dean,” Campbell said into the phone, then put his hand over the receiver and turned to the Coopers. “Is it raining holy water?”
Bill looked painfully innocent. Mike looked dryly amused.
“I think that’s a yes,” Campbell said into the phone.
“Not that it’ll hold ’em off for good,” Bill cautioned. “Until the cavalry gets here, we still need to be on our guard. But this’ll give us time to get set.”
Victor couldn’t take the madness anymore. Heedless of the rain, he bolted out the front door and to his car, paused long enough to catch his breath, and fled back toward the motel.
He was halfway back when the rain stopped. And barely a minute later a cloud of black smoke slammed into his car, tried to ram itself down his throat, recoiled, and settled for rolling the car five times. When that didn’t kill Victor, it seemed to be going for his throat when a bright white light bore down on the car, and the smoke fled. Victor threw an arm up to protect his eyes as the light got closer...
... and then someone was pounding on his window. “Henricksen! Agent Henricksen!”
Victor lowered his arm to see Mike Cooper and Josh Robichaux peering in at him.
“Are you all right?” Robichaux asked.
Victor nodded as he tried to catch his breath. “What... what....”
“Shield your eyes,” Cooper ordered. “We need to break the window.”
Victor covered his face with his hands and turned toward the passenger seat. Sure enough, although his ears were ringing for some reason, he could still hear the glass shattering beside him. Then a hand landed on his shoulder, and he lowered his hands and turned back. Robichaux handed him a knife so he could cut his way out of the seatbelt, and then they steadied him as he shakily crawled out the window.
“You okay?” Robichaux asked again as he took the knife back.
Victor took stock of himself and nodded again. “Shook up, but I’ll be okay. What the hell was that?”
“Hell,” Mike replied. “More specifically, a demon. You should have stayed with us.”
“I know that now, but-” Victor broke off with a curse. “Sullivan. I left him back at the motel.”
“My car’s right here,” Robichaux said, grabbing his arm. “Thanks, Mike.”
Mike nodded and ran off as Victor let Robichaux hustle him into his patrol car. Then Robichaux jumped into the driver’s seat and sped off, lights and siren going full blast.
Victor shifted and winced as a sore muscle protested. “So all this-it’s really happening. I’m not... Winchester didn’t....”
“Slip you some acid?” Robichaux finished, amused. “Nah. It’s all real.”
“And Steven....”
“Had probably been dead for months. Possession sometimes takes a real toll, and it’s worse the longer the person’s possessed. Some people lose their minds once they’re exorcised. Some people die, either because of the strain of the exorcism or because their bodies can’t take the shock of being out of the soul’s control.” Robichaux’s face was grim when Victor looked over at him.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
Robichaux nodded. “I got lucky. I was 13. Worst two weeks of my life, but all it did to me was flip some switch somewhere, left me psychic. Pretty low-grade, too; I’m more sensitive than anything. Thank God Daphne said something to Dean-they saved my life.”
Victor shook his head. “How have I been wasting my life locking up low-level crooks when there’s been something this big out here all along?”
“You didn’t know. Most people don’t. And hey, it’s not like the crooks don’t need locking up.”
“Even in Cazadore?”
Robichaux laughed. “Especially in Cazadore. We still have our fair share of drunks and thefts and domestic disturbances. It’s just that sometimes we get messes like this on top of it,” he added with a glance at the threatening sky before pulling into the motel parking lot.
“Is it safe to leave the car?” Victor asked as they parked.
“Frankly, no. But I’ve got a charm, and you....”
“Cas Cooper did something, said he gave me a tattoo.”
“Good. Then we’re golden. Let’s go.”
But no sooner had they each started to open their doors than another cloud of smoke enveloped the car, rocking it back and forth. Victor was just about to ask what to do when he heard a wild yell, and the smoke stopped rocking the car and turned to attack something else. He jumped out to find Carol Cooper in the middle of the parking lot battling the smoke with a sa-with t-with f-with how many swords?!
“Let’s go!” Robichaux called.
Victor snapped out of it and ran to the door of room 144. He had his key, but apparently Sullivan had locked the burglar chain.
“Go away!!” Sullivan cried, voice shaking in terror.
“In God’s name, Sullivan,” Victor bellowed, “open this door!”
He heard Sullivan scramble toward the door, and a second or two later, he heard the rattle of the chain dropping. “Watch the salt,” Sullivan said, pointing down, as he opened the door.
Victor stepped over the salt and into the room, Robichaux hard on his heels. “You all right?”
Sullivan nodded, wide-eyed and breathless. “The desk clerk called and told me to put salt down. What’s... what’s....”
“Demons,” Robichaux said, making sure the line of salt at the door hadn’t been broken. “Someone Downstairs is getting desperate.”
Victor nodded. “That’s what Winchester said.”
Sullivan nodded absently and looked away, then looked back at Robichaux. “Wait, I thought-weren’t you going to DC?”
“Long story,” Robichaux replied, moving to inspect the window. “But we’re safe here. The salt will keep the demons out long enough for help to arrive.”
“What kind of help?”
Robichaux looked up and around, like he was listening for something. Then he yelped, “Shut your eyes and cover your ears!”
Victor didn’t have to be told twice this time. He clamped his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as tightly as possible, but he was still aware of the loud, bright light that swept past the motel seconds later-the same loud, bright light that had driven off the demon that had attacked him earlier. He wasn’t sure how long it was before the light faded into normal sunlight and the ringing in his ears faded into the ringing of the room telephone.
Robichaux answered the phone, spoke into it briefly, and hung up just as Victor finally raised his head. “All clear,” he said-and signed.
“It’s... it’s over?” Sullivan squeaked.
Robichaux nodded his hand, which Victor belatedly remembered was the sign for Yes.
Victor took a deep breath and let it out again, then sank down on the nearest bed. “Is it? I mean, truly over?”
Robichaux blinked. “How do you mean?”
“Samuel Campbell can’t leave.”
Robichaux chuckled. “Samuel’s a special case. And besides, I think he’s sticking around at least until the great-grands are born.”
Victor managed to crack a smile at that. “But if this kind of thing keeps happening....”
“Actually, this... hasn’t happened before. Not here, anyway. Again, special case, and extremely localized. That said, now that you know... you’ve got some choices to make.”
“Yeah,” said Sullivan. “Kind of like Eliot Ness.”
Robichaux smiled.
Victor took another deep breath and stood. “Well, I think I know what to tell the Bureau about Adler.”
“You do?”
“Multiple personalities, and the psychotic one attacked someone, who killed him in self-defense.”
“Walker?”
“Like you said, you heard he was wearing a vest.”
Robichaux stepped closer. “And Groves?”
“Had a heart attack.”
Robichaux nodded slowly and turned to Sullivan. “What about your story?”
Sullivan smiled wryly. “What story?”
Robichaux smiled back and turned back to Victor. “The Winchesters will want to say goodbye.”
Victor chuckled ruefully. “Probably need one of them to get us back to the airport, now that the rental’s smashed. Just hope I didn’t burn too many bridges.”
“You can repair ’em.” Robichaux offered his hand. “An honest man is always welcome here.”
For the first time in a long time, Victor felt a weight slide off his shoulders as he shook Robichaux’s hand.