Fic: The Price of Love (4/7)
Back to Part 3
* * * SW * * *
Jess had a business dinner to attend that evening, so Sam was left to his own devices for dinner. He ordered some Chinese food and ate while he watched the last couple of episodes of The Good Doctor. He couldn't bear to watch cop procedurals; he was always getting pissed at their inaccuracies and the liberties they took, but he found medical dramas almost soothing, despite their life-or-death situations. He remembered Dean's addiction to Dr. Sexy, and a smile chased across his lips before he could turn his thoughts away.
When Jess got home, she was preoccupied with work and tired from her long day.
"Sorry, babe, I just want to climb into a warm bath and then bed." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. "I'll make it up to you this weekend, mmkay?"
"No worries, Jess. I'm bushed too. You go ahead, I'll be in soon." Sam smiled at her, hoping she didn't sense his inner turmoil from his encounter with Dean and the resultant memories that had assailed him.
Jess had had her bath and was already asleep in bed when Sam finally turned in almost two hours later. A couple of stiff drinks and watching a documentary about polar bears had let his mind unwind a bit, and the roiling emotions of the day left him drained.
Despite his fatigue, Sam tossed and turned restlessly once he was in bed. Even while physically exhausted from his run, the memories that had assailed him during it were still strong in his mind. The recollection of making a getaway (he mentally scoffed at the drama of that phrase) had led to remembering that first intimacy with Dean, and that. . . well. . .
Sam struggled to pack those volatile memories away again, but with limited success, judging from his chub. With Jess sound asleep merely inches away, he was annoyed at himself for still being so stirred up. He certainly didn't want to wake her in his aroused condition. The thought of having sex with his girlfriend because he was horny from remembering being fucked by his brother was beyond gross.
Maybe I should ask to be taken off the case after all. Sam frowned in the dark. This is getting ridiculous.
But then Crowley will think I'm weak. That I can't separate my personal feelings from the job.
Of course, Crowley's an asshole, so fuck him.
Sam smirked at his inner sass. His thoughts churned on, reliving every moment of his time facing Dean down at Iniquity. Something was niggling at the back of his thoughts, but with the highly charged emotions that had been roiling in his head, he couldn't put his finger on it.
Fuck it, I'll get up. Maybe a drink will help.
Jess stirred as he rose. She mumbled his name sleepily and Sam shushed her gently.
"Go back to sleep, babe." He drew the sheet up around her shoulders, watching her re-settle. She looked lovely as she lay there, her bare shoulders milky in the moonlight that came in through the curtains, her hair curling all over the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted and one hand curled against her chest. It pulled the silk chemise she'd worn to sleep in temptingly tight over one breast, but Sam wasn't going to wake her for a booty call.
A booty call that, if he were totally honest with himself, was instigated because of those. . .stimulating memories of Dean.
Sam turned away, pissed at himself for lusting after his girlfriend because he'd been remembering how it felt to have sex with his brother.
Just in case you weren't sick enough, Winchester.
He got his drink and went to his study. Sitting at his desk, he sipped his drink and tried to figure out what was bothering him. The sex workers Dean had tried to seduce him with? The luxurious, yet tasteful place itself? His loss of control that had ended with him hitting Dean?
Moving from the desk to the couch, Sam stretched his legs out, letting his head fall back on the throw pillow as he mused. The beauty and allure of the women--Janelle and Lisa, he recalled--had been undeniable. Even hotter had been that big redheaded man. Sam hadn't been with any other man except Dean, but he'd felt a real physical attraction to that hunky Irishman. He hadn't considered that Iniquity might be providing both men and women alike, but it only made sense. He wondered idly about the clients Sean had left to service after Sam's declining of the offer--
Sam sat up straight. That was it. That was what had been tickling at the back of his mind. What had Dean said to Sean?
'I think you're entertaining Dick Roman tonight. Or perhaps it's Mrs. Roman?' Dean had chuckled. 'Or maybe it's both.'
Holy shit.
Dick Roman? As in, Judge Richard Roman? And his wife, Bela? Were they in fact 'clients' at Iniquity?
The shock of that realization made Sam's whole body shiver. Why would they go there? What were the implications of this? And what did this mean for continuing to investigate Dean and his business?
Sam rubbed his head as he considered how very messy this whole thing had now gotten. He didn't look forward to meeting with Crowley and Henriksen in the morning.
* * * DW * * *
Piercing siren whoops woke Dean out of a sound sleep. He groped for his phone at first before he realized it was the emergency warning alarm from Iniquity's security system. Throwing on a pair of track pants he'd worn earlier, he retrieved his gun from the lock-box next to his bed, inserted a fresh clip, and snapped it shut. Tucking it in the back waistband of his pants, he quickly but quietly made his way to the door.
Dean's private bedroom suite was on the second floor, behind a secure door and firewall that separated it from the entertaining rooms. He flung that door open and ran into the main hallway. Red and yellow emergency lights pulsed brightly, marking the exits and providing enough illumination to get through the hallway. The siren continued its high-pitched whoops while men and women ran out of the various bedrooms into the hallway, scrambling for the exits.
Dean grabbed and shoved people toward the stairs, yelling directions at them. While he didn't know what the emergency was, he wasn't going to take any chances that people could get trapped or injured. He glanced into every doorway, making sure the rooms were clear, and then headed down the stairs himself, looking around for Benny.
Benny stood at the bottom of the stairs, his new boytoy, Kevin the ex-waiter/now bartender, standing behind him with wide, anxious eyes. Everyone milled around anxiously.
"Get these people out!" Dean ordered, but Benny put up a hand.
"It's not a fire. I've already had the building checked and it's safe. I'm going to have them go to the salon to calm down. Madison is already headed there."
"You're sure--" Dean began, but Benny nodded.
"Yes. Let me turn that damn siren off."
He strode off to the security office, located near the front of the building on the first floor. Dean sighed with relief when the siren stopped and the emergency lights clicked off. The regular lights came on and he could see everyone look around and relax a little.
"Go to the main salon," Dean ordered them. "Madison is there. You can all have a chance to catch your breath. Everything is fine--Benny is looking into what tripped the alarm, but there is no fire or invasion. Have some tea or a drink there, and we'll tell you when you can return to your rooms."
A muted chorus of voices rose as the men and women moved toward the salon. Lisa came out of the crowd and approached Dean, clad in a silky aqua nightgown and wrap. Puck was close behind her, wearing their usual default form of a blonde young woman.
"What happened?" Lisa asked anxiously. She hadn't been with Dean in his bedroom; he'd begun distancing himself from her as he did with anyone he'd slept more than a few weeks with. She'd pouted, but he made it clear that he refused to allow anything approaching a steady relationship. Dean spelled out those expectations as soon as he began a liaison.
"I'm not sure yet, but nothing serious," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a little squeeze. "Benny and I will check it out, but everything's fine. Go have a little drink with the rest now to calm your nerves, okay?"
"Okay," she said somewhat reluctantly. Looking up at him, she gave a little smile. "Can I come up afterward? You know, for a little comforting?"
He looked at her dark, expressive eyes and her sweet pink mouth. Her dark hair was tousled from sleep and she looked soft and innocent. If he was going to pick someone, actually attempt a long-term relationship, she was as close as he could get to perfect.
But it wasn't going to happen. Dean resolutely kept his mind away from why that was.
"No, baby. Best if you go back to your own room." He kissed her forehead and stepped back, catching a glimpse of her sad face before she turned away.
Puck, unfazed by alarms in the middle of the night from their time in John Winchester's employ, touched Dean's arm.
"Are we safe?"
Dean patted their hand. "Yeah, Benny says we're safe. I'm just going to find out what's going on." He pulled her into a quick hug. "No running from the cops at two a.m., promise."
They relaxed and smiled at him. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything--or anyone to be someone." They gave him a wink.
"Will do, babe." Dean winked back. He appreciated Puck's loyalty, and he'd found in the past that having a shapeshifter on your side could be really helpful sometimes.
Benny was just leaving the security office when Dean joined him.
"Okay, what the fuck happened?" Dean ran a hand over his face. "Fine that it's not a fire or break-in, but something set that damn siren off, and I want to know what it was right now."
Benny's face was serious, the affable demeanor he'd adopted while calming the situation down now replaced by one of gravity and concern.
"I'm not sure, but I saw something on the security camera in the business office."
"Something? Like what?"
"A body."
Benny shook his head. Dean nodded, refraining from asking any more questions for the moment until they knew something more.
They headed back up the stairs to the second floor and the inner office of the business suite, located over the first floor security office. The door to the suite was closed, but Benny held up one hand. He pointed to his ear, then the door, then one finger on his lips. Dean nodded in understanding. Benny heard something inside and wanted Dean to stay quiet.
Benny held up three fingers, silently counting them down. On three, he kicked the door open and they both rushed inside.
A slim body lay prone on the floor, face down. Dark hair fanned out like a cloud around its shoulders. Dean couldn't tell who it was yet. A couple of feet away, another person sat on the floor with their knees drawn up, their face hidden against them.
"Hands up!" Benny said loudly, but the person did not respond. Benny edged closer and kicked at their feet, bringing their knees down.
Max Banes stared up at them. Tear tracks on his cheeks shone in the light, and his eyes were dark pools of grief.
"She's dead," he said. "I didn't know. . .I tried to save her but I didn't know. . ."
"Didn't know what?" Benny asked, kneeling next to Max, who was obviously not a threat.
Dean went to the body and turned it over. Empty eye sockets, burnt and blackened, made Alicia Banes' beautiful face into a mask of horror. Dean swallowed hard, his gorge rising.
"What the hell could do that," he said in a raspy voice.
Benny looked at her, wincing. "Jesus, that's. . ."
Max's mouth opened in a wet grimace of pain. "I didn't know. . .oh God, Alicia. . ." Tears coursed down his face, his shoulders hitching in gasping sobs.
Benny grabbed his shoulders. "What didn't you know? What happened here?" His voice was rough, his tone insistent.
Max gulped. "I was--we were supposed to. . .investigate. We were sent in here. I used a spell. . .I'm a witch. I used a concealment spell to evade the wards."
Dean and Benny exchanged shocked glances. This was no mere robbery, but instead a well-planned assault on Iniquity. Someone wanted to investigate deep inside the brothel. Dean knew immediately that it had to be someone more powerful than Max Banes.
"What were you looking for? Who sent you, and what were you here to investigate?" Dean asked harshly.
"The D.A. and the FBI. They, uh, they were looking for criminal evidence. So me and Alicia. . .oh God, Alicia!" Max dissolved into sobs again.
"Okay, get him up and take him downstairs to the security office," Dean ordered. "I'll--fuck. This is a fucking mess." He sighed heavily. "I'll contact the D.A.'s office."
"You'll contact Sam, you mean." Benny's voice was flat.
"Yeah." Dean grimaced. "Gotta contact the police one way or another. Might as well take advantage of the connections."
"You realize it was probably through the D.A.'s office that these two ended up here," Benny stated. "Maybe you should wait and let them come to you. Let them admit to their fiasco."
Dean nodded."That's not a bad idea." He looked down at Alicia's ruined face. "Goddammit. . .this didn't have to happen. What the fuck were they thinking?"
"What caused that, do you think?" Benny grimaced as well at the blackened, bloody sockets stark in Alicia's beautiful face. Looking over at Max, Benny asked, "What the hell happened?"
"The wards. . .I didn't. . .my spell clashed with the wards. There was a. . .like a feedback loop. Alicia. . .she got caught in it." Max's face crumpled. "Like being struck by lightning."
Dean's heart lurched. He could empathize entirely too well with Max's pain. If that had been Sam? Lying there so still, disfigured so horrifically? He'd. . .
"Take him away, put him in the conference room and lock the door. And get everyone back to their rooms. Tell them it was a false alarm. The quicker we pretend everything is normal, the quicker it will be." Dean turned away from the body. "Tell Madison to notify everyone that because of the disturbance, Iniquity will be closed tomorrow. All pre-paid appointments will be refunded and everything rescheduled. Then we'll wait for the law to come with their hat in their hand."
"On it, boss."
Dean left the room, its air still redolent with the heady copper scent of magic and blood, and knew he wouldn't be sleeping again that night.
* * * SW * * *
"You mean Dick 'Butter Wouldn't Melt in His Mouth' Roman frequents Iniquity?" Crowley let out an enormous cackle. "Well, well, well. That puts an interesting spin on things." He snorted derisively. "And his British tart of a wife, Bela, too? I knew that woman was a slut underneath that prim exterior." He cackled again. "Wonder what kinky shenanigans that pair gets up to. Wouldn't that be interesting to know." His eyes took on a lewd, speculative gleam.
As soon as he got to the office that morning, Sam told Crowley about his visit to Iniquity the prior evening. Crowley, at first unbelieving, now was savoring the new possibilities Sam's theory inspired.
"Exactly," Sam said, queasily sidestepping the issue of Bela Roman's possible kinkiness. "This could be part of why Dean is able to keep evading charges. What if Roman is pulling strings behind the scenes to keep him in the clear?"
Crowley's face sobered. He eyed Sam sternly. "You understand these are serious allegations you're talking about. Accusing a judge of improper behavior is not to be undertaken lightly." He stroked his goatee. "You'll need some real evidence--something more solid than a simple offhand statement made in a whorehouse."
Sam was about to reply when Henriksen burst into the office snorting fire.
"What the fuck is going on?" he roared.
Henriksen's normally calm attitude had disappeared, replaced by fury.
Crowley cocked his head, arching one eyebrow. "Well, aren't you in a tizzy there. What's going on where?"
Henriksen took a deep breath, presumably to calm himself before he spoke again. Placing his hands on Crowley's desk, he leaned over and bit off his words.
"What. Is. Happening. With. Dean. Winchester!"
Sam exchanged a questioning look with Crowley, who gave a casual shrug.
"I don't know," Crowley replied calmly. "What are you talking about?"
"We're waiting to hear from your moles. Max and Alicia Banes are late reporting in," Sam added.
Pushing off from the desk, Henriksen crossed his arms over his chest. Speaking in a more level but still intense tone, he said, "They're late for checking in with me as well. I don't like it." He shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this. Get a warrant for us to get into Iniquity. Now."
Crowley sighed. "Is that really necessary? Perhaps the delectable twins are simply sleeping in after a . . . busy night."
Sam winced as Henriksen dropped his arms and pounded a fist on the desk.
"Get a warrant, you fucking Limey cockroach!" Henriksen roared.
Crowley's face darkened with an angry flush. "A little respect in my own goddamn office, if you please! I don't care if you're J. Edgar fucking Hoover, you can't speak to me like that here!"
He snapped his fingers at Sam. "Contact Judge Richard Roman about a warrant."
"Really? We're going to go to Roman, when--" Sam started. How could Crowley suggest that after what they'd just been discussing?
"Two birds, Samuel, one warrant. Either we find out where the Banes twins are, and/or we find out more about Roman's motives and actions." Crowley tersely filled Henriksen in on their new speculations regarding the Honorable Richard Roman.
"This is hard to believe about a man of his reputation," Henriksen mused. "Roman has very high credibility and standing in the legal community. On the other hand, it could explain a few things too." He nodded. "Yes, use him for the warrant. Maybe it'll help clarify the situation."
"What grounds are we claiming for the warrant?" Sam asked.
Crowley growled, "It's a damn brothel and drug den. I'm sure that alone qualifies as probable cause. Throw in two missing undercover informants as well." He waved a dismissive hand at Sam. "Go!"
Sam hurried back to his own office and picked up the phone. He directed Jo to contact the judge's office ASAP, wondering all the while what the judge would do in response. Whatever else happened today, it felt like they were at a turning point in the investigation.
Within a couple of minutes, Jo came into his office. "The judge wants all of you in his office." She grimaced. "Like, yesterday. He does not sound happy."
Sam strode back to Crowley's office, where he found Crowley and Henriksen glowering at each other.
Man, I just love inter-agency co-operation and camaraderie, Sam thought dryly.
"Judge Roman wants us all in his office pronto," he said aloud.
Crowley grunted and stood up. "Fine, fine. Hop along now, boys."
Henriksen was hot on Crowley's heels, while Sam trailed after them. He was nervous about meeting with the potentially dirty judge as much as he was tense from the animosity growing between his boss and the FBI agent.
This whole shebang isn't going to end well, he fretted, resisting the urge to bite his nails.
Judge Richard Roman's office was half again as large as Crowley's and twice as large as Sam's. His large mahogany desk had various legal memorabilia and a large calendar blotter on it. Several diplomas and commendations hung on the dark green wall behind it. A large leather couch and matching armchair stood off to the side, while two wooden chairs sat in front of the desk. The judge himself was sitting in a large, black leather executive chair that Sam guessed probably cost half his salary as an assistant D.A..
"What is all this noise about a warrant?" Judge Roman stood up with a wide, toothy smile and came around the front of his desk. "Henriksen--FBI, correct? I've heard good things about you, Victor. Now tell me, what does the FBI want in our little neck of the woods?"
Sam noted how the judge didn't offer his hand to Henriksen. It struck him as a little odd, if not downright impolite. As an FBI agent, Henriksen wasn't that far from Roman's rank, unlike Crowley, or of course, Sam.
Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but the judge peremptorily raised his hand, cutting Crowley off before he uttered a single word. Closing his mouth with a snap, Crowley resumed glowering.
Henriksen said, "We need a warrant to search Iniquity, Dean Winchester's place of business. We have reason to believe that there is drug trafficking and money laundering going on, which is what prompted our probe in the first place. I sent in two undercover agents to investigate, who did not make their check-in time and are now considered missing and endangered."
Judge Roman arched one well-groomed eyebrow. "Really! How long have they been missing?"
"They missed this morning's check-in."
Roman scoffed. "Not even twenty-four hours? Surely you're jumping the gun here. What makes you think there's anything nefarious about it?"
Henriksen took a deep breath. Sam could tell from the muscle jumping in his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes that he was restraining himself so as not to piss off the judge.
"Iniquity has been investigated several times and the D.A.'s office has been unable to sustain any charges brought to bear. However, the information they have gathered so far demonstrates that an environment of casual criminal behavior exists. With the missed reporting of my personnel, I can only believe something dire has befallen them in there."
The judge sneered as he said, "Well, perhaps sending two people in unsupported wasn't the brightest move, Agent Henriksen." He sighed as though he were terribly inconvenienced by Henriksen's faux pas. "I don't see that this is an emergency situation yet. Warrant denied. Dismissed."
Sam saw Henriksen's body stiffen in response to the judge's shocking statement. Even Crowley looked nonplussed. While admittedly less than twenty-four hours didn't qualify as a true missing persons for the general public, the danger of the undercover agents' situation should have overridden that.
What is the judge thinking? Sam thought as they all filed out of Roman's office. Is this part of his protecting Iniquity? And if so, why is Dean involved in such a slimy deal?
Shutting the door once they were back in Crowley's office, Sam leaned his back against it.
"What do we do now? Our hands are tied."
Crowley shrugged. "We do nothing." While he didn't look pleased about it, his voice was calm. Sam wondered if Crowley was relieved that he didn't have to deal with such a tricky, potentially volatile situation.
Henriksen went to the window and put a hand on its frame, staring outside. His ramrod-stiff back clearly telegraphed his anger, as did the loud drumming of his fingers on the metal window frame.
"But--" Sam started, then stopped. He didn't quite dare make a suggestion, not knowing how explosive Henriksen was likely to be at that moment.
Crowley sighed and shuffled through some file folders on his desk. "Might as well see what else is on deck." He hummed a little as he flipped through the folders. Henriksen didn't move.
The tension in the room felt like a ticking time bomb to Sam. He fidgeted, wanting to get the hell out of there before it blew. In addition, his stomach was churning with the wrongness of it all, and he didn't know if he felt like throwing up or--
Henriksen slammed his fist on the window frame and spun around.
"We're going in, warrant or no warrant." His face was grim. "I sent those people in there, and by God I am not abandoning them." He strode over to Crowley's desk. "I want four policemen for back-up, with an ambulance on stand-by."
Crowley stuttered, "But--but--without a warrant--"
"Fuck the warrant! And fuck Roman! I'm going over his head on this." Turning to Sam, Henriksen said, "I want you with us. You're the lawyer on this case, and you're his brother. I may need you in both capacities."
Sam nodded, his throat suddenly tight with apprehension. Henriksen gave him a short nod. "Get those men now, Crowley. I want two units ready to go in five!"
Sam found himself in Henriksen's car racing over to Iniquity with the two units behind them. Henriksen told them lights only, no sirens so as not to announce their arrival. The drive took mere minutes, with Sam clutching the door with one arm the whole way. It reminded him of being in the back seat of the Impala during one of his father's getaways, the car lurching at every turn, being pressed into the seat by the acceleration.
Fuck, Dean, please . . . the whores and drugs are bad enough, but at least not--please don't be involved in murder now . . .
* * * DW * * *
"Just heard over the police scanner about two units being dispatched with an FBI agent," Benny said urgently, bursting into Dean's office. "They'll be here any minute."
"Fine," said Dean. "Let them. We didn't kill the girl. Her brother did. Accidentally, but still." He grimaced at the prospect of dealing with the unavoidable investigation. While Alicia's death couldn't be pinned on him, the prospect of the police and FBI flooding Iniquity wasn't pleasant. "We'll co-operate fully with them, understand?"
"Yes sir," Benny answered.
"Let's go down and meet them. Oh, and Benny? I want to talk with Rowena this afternoon. I want to know what the hell happened with those wards." He stood up and went downstairs, Benny on his six.
Dean threw open the door just as the first car pulled in, the police units right behind it. He and Benny watched a tall, well-built Black man exit from the driver's side, followed by. . .
"Fuck, it's Sam." Benny clicked his tongue. "Not a good sign that they chose him to front this. They want to get to you."
"Yep," agreed Dean. "But it's not going to work."
He stepped through the front door, extending his right hand. "Dean Winchester."
"Victor Henriksen, Federal Bureau of Investigations." Henriksen ignored Dean's outstretched hand. He shrugged and dropped it. Henriksen gestured toward Sam. "You already know each other, I believe," he said dryly.
"Yes, yes we do. Heya, Sammy."
"It's Sam," Sam retorted.
"Saaam." Dean didn't bother concealing his eye roll. "And what can I do for you, Agent Henriksen?"
"I'm looking for two people who are missing. A man and woman--brother and sister, actually. Max Banes and Alicia Banes." Henriksen snapped his fingers and Sam handed him a photograph. Showing it to Dean, Henriksen continued, "They were last seen entering Iniquity yesterday."
Dean took the photo and glanced at it. "Yes, they were here yesterday." He stepped back and indicated the door. "Please, come in and I'll tell you everything we know."
Henriksen held a hand up to the policemen who'd gotten out of their cars and were waiting for instructions. "Sit tight for a minute. I'll appraise the situation."
He and Sam entered Iniquity's foyer after Dean, with Benny following up at the rear.
"What do you know of their whereabouts now?" Henriksen asked. "Are they here?"
"Yes, they are," Dean replied.
"Are they alright?"
Dean's smile disappeared. "No, they are not." He saw Sam give a start, a look of panic flashing across his face. Dean gave a little shake of his head to try and reassure his brother.
Sammy can't think I killed them, can he?
"I'm terribly sorry to tell you that Alicia Banes died here during the night." Dean held up a hand. "Neither I nor any of my people were involved in her death. Her brother Max performed some spellwork which apparently clashed with the protection wards I have on the building. There was a. . . I guess like a feedback loop, or some kind of blow-back, and Alicia was caught in it. She did not survive."
Henriksen frowned. Behind him, Dean saw Sam's face pale.
"What? Where is she--her body? Is Max still here?" Henriksen inquired angrily
"Yes, we put him in a locked room, not that he's up to doing anything. He's devastated at the death of his sister, much less by the knowledge it was at his actions. Benny will take you to him now."
"Don't move from here," Henriksen warned Dean. "We'll want to see everything. I'm going to have the men outside come in and start gathering evidence about her death and to corroborate your story."
"Of course, Agent. I would expect nothing less." Dean bowed graciously, as if they were discussing party arrangements instead of an accidental death.
Henriksen went to the door and motioned for the policemen to enter. He instructed them about what he wanted done before he followed Benny to go see Max.
Dean looked at Sam. "You know I had nothing to do with this, right? I've never killed anyone, and I didn't kill her."
Sam looked coldly at Dean. "You may not have killed her directly, but this place had a hand in it. You wouldn't need such strong wards if you weren't protecting your criminal interests."
"I was protecting my people." Dean replied harshly. "That's why I had those wards up." He felt a sneer cross his face while he went on. "I'm not Dad. I'm responsible for the health and well-being of everyone in my employ and my house, and I take that responsibility seriously. No one here is coerced, exploited, or harmed in any way."
Sam looked somewhat abashed. "Sorry, I . . . "
Dean snorted. "You thought I was following in our father's footsteps. Well, I may run a brothel, Sam, but the similarity to our father ends there. I actually care about my people." He took a deep breath to calm himself down. The thought of being compared to his father angered him to his core. "I'm going to go check on how Max is doing with the agent."
He turned on his heel and strode away.
On to Part 5
* * * SW * * *
Jess had a business dinner to attend that evening, so Sam was left to his own devices for dinner. He ordered some Chinese food and ate while he watched the last couple of episodes of The Good Doctor. He couldn't bear to watch cop procedurals; he was always getting pissed at their inaccuracies and the liberties they took, but he found medical dramas almost soothing, despite their life-or-death situations. He remembered Dean's addiction to Dr. Sexy, and a smile chased across his lips before he could turn his thoughts away.
When Jess got home, she was preoccupied with work and tired from her long day.
"Sorry, babe, I just want to climb into a warm bath and then bed." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. "I'll make it up to you this weekend, mmkay?"
"No worries, Jess. I'm bushed too. You go ahead, I'll be in soon." Sam smiled at her, hoping she didn't sense his inner turmoil from his encounter with Dean and the resultant memories that had assailed him.
Jess had had her bath and was already asleep in bed when Sam finally turned in almost two hours later. A couple of stiff drinks and watching a documentary about polar bears had let his mind unwind a bit, and the roiling emotions of the day left him drained.
Despite his fatigue, Sam tossed and turned restlessly once he was in bed. Even while physically exhausted from his run, the memories that had assailed him during it were still strong in his mind. The recollection of making a getaway (he mentally scoffed at the drama of that phrase) had led to remembering that first intimacy with Dean, and that. . . well. . .
Sam struggled to pack those volatile memories away again, but with limited success, judging from his chub. With Jess sound asleep merely inches away, he was annoyed at himself for still being so stirred up. He certainly didn't want to wake her in his aroused condition. The thought of having sex with his girlfriend because he was horny from remembering being fucked by his brother was beyond gross.
Maybe I should ask to be taken off the case after all. Sam frowned in the dark. This is getting ridiculous.
But then Crowley will think I'm weak. That I can't separate my personal feelings from the job.
Of course, Crowley's an asshole, so fuck him.
Sam smirked at his inner sass. His thoughts churned on, reliving every moment of his time facing Dean down at Iniquity. Something was niggling at the back of his thoughts, but with the highly charged emotions that had been roiling in his head, he couldn't put his finger on it.
Fuck it, I'll get up. Maybe a drink will help.
Jess stirred as he rose. She mumbled his name sleepily and Sam shushed her gently.
"Go back to sleep, babe." He drew the sheet up around her shoulders, watching her re-settle. She looked lovely as she lay there, her bare shoulders milky in the moonlight that came in through the curtains, her hair curling all over the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted and one hand curled against her chest. It pulled the silk chemise she'd worn to sleep in temptingly tight over one breast, but Sam wasn't going to wake her for a booty call.
A booty call that, if he were totally honest with himself, was instigated because of those. . .stimulating memories of Dean.
Sam turned away, pissed at himself for lusting after his girlfriend because he'd been remembering how it felt to have sex with his brother.
Just in case you weren't sick enough, Winchester.
He got his drink and went to his study. Sitting at his desk, he sipped his drink and tried to figure out what was bothering him. The sex workers Dean had tried to seduce him with? The luxurious, yet tasteful place itself? His loss of control that had ended with him hitting Dean?
Moving from the desk to the couch, Sam stretched his legs out, letting his head fall back on the throw pillow as he mused. The beauty and allure of the women--Janelle and Lisa, he recalled--had been undeniable. Even hotter had been that big redheaded man. Sam hadn't been with any other man except Dean, but he'd felt a real physical attraction to that hunky Irishman. He hadn't considered that Iniquity might be providing both men and women alike, but it only made sense. He wondered idly about the clients Sean had left to service after Sam's declining of the offer--
Sam sat up straight. That was it. That was what had been tickling at the back of his mind. What had Dean said to Sean?
'I think you're entertaining Dick Roman tonight. Or perhaps it's Mrs. Roman?' Dean had chuckled. 'Or maybe it's both.'
Holy shit.
Dick Roman? As in, Judge Richard Roman? And his wife, Bela? Were they in fact 'clients' at Iniquity?
The shock of that realization made Sam's whole body shiver. Why would they go there? What were the implications of this? And what did this mean for continuing to investigate Dean and his business?
Sam rubbed his head as he considered how very messy this whole thing had now gotten. He didn't look forward to meeting with Crowley and Henriksen in the morning.
* * * DW * * *
Piercing siren whoops woke Dean out of a sound sleep. He groped for his phone at first before he realized it was the emergency warning alarm from Iniquity's security system. Throwing on a pair of track pants he'd worn earlier, he retrieved his gun from the lock-box next to his bed, inserted a fresh clip, and snapped it shut. Tucking it in the back waistband of his pants, he quickly but quietly made his way to the door.
Dean's private bedroom suite was on the second floor, behind a secure door and firewall that separated it from the entertaining rooms. He flung that door open and ran into the main hallway. Red and yellow emergency lights pulsed brightly, marking the exits and providing enough illumination to get through the hallway. The siren continued its high-pitched whoops while men and women ran out of the various bedrooms into the hallway, scrambling for the exits.
Dean grabbed and shoved people toward the stairs, yelling directions at them. While he didn't know what the emergency was, he wasn't going to take any chances that people could get trapped or injured. He glanced into every doorway, making sure the rooms were clear, and then headed down the stairs himself, looking around for Benny.
Benny stood at the bottom of the stairs, his new boytoy, Kevin the ex-waiter/now bartender, standing behind him with wide, anxious eyes. Everyone milled around anxiously.
"Get these people out!" Dean ordered, but Benny put up a hand.
"It's not a fire. I've already had the building checked and it's safe. I'm going to have them go to the salon to calm down. Madison is already headed there."
"You're sure--" Dean began, but Benny nodded.
"Yes. Let me turn that damn siren off."
He strode off to the security office, located near the front of the building on the first floor. Dean sighed with relief when the siren stopped and the emergency lights clicked off. The regular lights came on and he could see everyone look around and relax a little.
"Go to the main salon," Dean ordered them. "Madison is there. You can all have a chance to catch your breath. Everything is fine--Benny is looking into what tripped the alarm, but there is no fire or invasion. Have some tea or a drink there, and we'll tell you when you can return to your rooms."
A muted chorus of voices rose as the men and women moved toward the salon. Lisa came out of the crowd and approached Dean, clad in a silky aqua nightgown and wrap. Puck was close behind her, wearing their usual default form of a blonde young woman.
"What happened?" Lisa asked anxiously. She hadn't been with Dean in his bedroom; he'd begun distancing himself from her as he did with anyone he'd slept more than a few weeks with. She'd pouted, but he made it clear that he refused to allow anything approaching a steady relationship. Dean spelled out those expectations as soon as he began a liaison.
"I'm not sure yet, but nothing serious," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a little squeeze. "Benny and I will check it out, but everything's fine. Go have a little drink with the rest now to calm your nerves, okay?"
"Okay," she said somewhat reluctantly. Looking up at him, she gave a little smile. "Can I come up afterward? You know, for a little comforting?"
He looked at her dark, expressive eyes and her sweet pink mouth. Her dark hair was tousled from sleep and she looked soft and innocent. If he was going to pick someone, actually attempt a long-term relationship, she was as close as he could get to perfect.
But it wasn't going to happen. Dean resolutely kept his mind away from why that was.
"No, baby. Best if you go back to your own room." He kissed her forehead and stepped back, catching a glimpse of her sad face before she turned away.
Puck, unfazed by alarms in the middle of the night from their time in John Winchester's employ, touched Dean's arm.
"Are we safe?"
Dean patted their hand. "Yeah, Benny says we're safe. I'm just going to find out what's going on." He pulled her into a quick hug. "No running from the cops at two a.m., promise."
They relaxed and smiled at him. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything--or anyone to be someone." They gave him a wink.
"Will do, babe." Dean winked back. He appreciated Puck's loyalty, and he'd found in the past that having a shapeshifter on your side could be really helpful sometimes.
Benny was just leaving the security office when Dean joined him.
"Okay, what the fuck happened?" Dean ran a hand over his face. "Fine that it's not a fire or break-in, but something set that damn siren off, and I want to know what it was right now."
Benny's face was serious, the affable demeanor he'd adopted while calming the situation down now replaced by one of gravity and concern.
"I'm not sure, but I saw something on the security camera in the business office."
"Something? Like what?"
"A body."
Benny shook his head. Dean nodded, refraining from asking any more questions for the moment until they knew something more.
They headed back up the stairs to the second floor and the inner office of the business suite, located over the first floor security office. The door to the suite was closed, but Benny held up one hand. He pointed to his ear, then the door, then one finger on his lips. Dean nodded in understanding. Benny heard something inside and wanted Dean to stay quiet.
Benny held up three fingers, silently counting them down. On three, he kicked the door open and they both rushed inside.
A slim body lay prone on the floor, face down. Dark hair fanned out like a cloud around its shoulders. Dean couldn't tell who it was yet. A couple of feet away, another person sat on the floor with their knees drawn up, their face hidden against them.
"Hands up!" Benny said loudly, but the person did not respond. Benny edged closer and kicked at their feet, bringing their knees down.
Max Banes stared up at them. Tear tracks on his cheeks shone in the light, and his eyes were dark pools of grief.
"She's dead," he said. "I didn't know. . .I tried to save her but I didn't know. . ."
"Didn't know what?" Benny asked, kneeling next to Max, who was obviously not a threat.
Dean went to the body and turned it over. Empty eye sockets, burnt and blackened, made Alicia Banes' beautiful face into a mask of horror. Dean swallowed hard, his gorge rising.
"What the hell could do that," he said in a raspy voice.
Benny looked at her, wincing. "Jesus, that's. . ."
Max's mouth opened in a wet grimace of pain. "I didn't know. . .oh God, Alicia. . ." Tears coursed down his face, his shoulders hitching in gasping sobs.
Benny grabbed his shoulders. "What didn't you know? What happened here?" His voice was rough, his tone insistent.
Max gulped. "I was--we were supposed to. . .investigate. We were sent in here. I used a spell. . .I'm a witch. I used a concealment spell to evade the wards."
Dean and Benny exchanged shocked glances. This was no mere robbery, but instead a well-planned assault on Iniquity. Someone wanted to investigate deep inside the brothel. Dean knew immediately that it had to be someone more powerful than Max Banes.
"What were you looking for? Who sent you, and what were you here to investigate?" Dean asked harshly.
"The D.A. and the FBI. They, uh, they were looking for criminal evidence. So me and Alicia. . .oh God, Alicia!" Max dissolved into sobs again.
"Okay, get him up and take him downstairs to the security office," Dean ordered. "I'll--fuck. This is a fucking mess." He sighed heavily. "I'll contact the D.A.'s office."
"You'll contact Sam, you mean." Benny's voice was flat.
"Yeah." Dean grimaced. "Gotta contact the police one way or another. Might as well take advantage of the connections."
"You realize it was probably through the D.A.'s office that these two ended up here," Benny stated. "Maybe you should wait and let them come to you. Let them admit to their fiasco."
Dean nodded."That's not a bad idea." He looked down at Alicia's ruined face. "Goddammit. . .this didn't have to happen. What the fuck were they thinking?"
"What caused that, do you think?" Benny grimaced as well at the blackened, bloody sockets stark in Alicia's beautiful face. Looking over at Max, Benny asked, "What the hell happened?"
"The wards. . .I didn't. . .my spell clashed with the wards. There was a. . .like a feedback loop. Alicia. . .she got caught in it." Max's face crumpled. "Like being struck by lightning."
Dean's heart lurched. He could empathize entirely too well with Max's pain. If that had been Sam? Lying there so still, disfigured so horrifically? He'd. . .
"Take him away, put him in the conference room and lock the door. And get everyone back to their rooms. Tell them it was a false alarm. The quicker we pretend everything is normal, the quicker it will be." Dean turned away from the body. "Tell Madison to notify everyone that because of the disturbance, Iniquity will be closed tomorrow. All pre-paid appointments will be refunded and everything rescheduled. Then we'll wait for the law to come with their hat in their hand."
"On it, boss."
Dean left the room, its air still redolent with the heady copper scent of magic and blood, and knew he wouldn't be sleeping again that night.
* * * SW * * *
"You mean Dick 'Butter Wouldn't Melt in His Mouth' Roman frequents Iniquity?" Crowley let out an enormous cackle. "Well, well, well. That puts an interesting spin on things." He snorted derisively. "And his British tart of a wife, Bela, too? I knew that woman was a slut underneath that prim exterior." He cackled again. "Wonder what kinky shenanigans that pair gets up to. Wouldn't that be interesting to know." His eyes took on a lewd, speculative gleam.
As soon as he got to the office that morning, Sam told Crowley about his visit to Iniquity the prior evening. Crowley, at first unbelieving, now was savoring the new possibilities Sam's theory inspired.
"Exactly," Sam said, queasily sidestepping the issue of Bela Roman's possible kinkiness. "This could be part of why Dean is able to keep evading charges. What if Roman is pulling strings behind the scenes to keep him in the clear?"
Crowley's face sobered. He eyed Sam sternly. "You understand these are serious allegations you're talking about. Accusing a judge of improper behavior is not to be undertaken lightly." He stroked his goatee. "You'll need some real evidence--something more solid than a simple offhand statement made in a whorehouse."
Sam was about to reply when Henriksen burst into the office snorting fire.
"What the fuck is going on?" he roared.
Henriksen's normally calm attitude had disappeared, replaced by fury.
Crowley cocked his head, arching one eyebrow. "Well, aren't you in a tizzy there. What's going on where?"
Henriksen took a deep breath, presumably to calm himself before he spoke again. Placing his hands on Crowley's desk, he leaned over and bit off his words.
"What. Is. Happening. With. Dean. Winchester!"
Sam exchanged a questioning look with Crowley, who gave a casual shrug.
"I don't know," Crowley replied calmly. "What are you talking about?"
"We're waiting to hear from your moles. Max and Alicia Banes are late reporting in," Sam added.
Pushing off from the desk, Henriksen crossed his arms over his chest. Speaking in a more level but still intense tone, he said, "They're late for checking in with me as well. I don't like it." He shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this. Get a warrant for us to get into Iniquity. Now."
Crowley sighed. "Is that really necessary? Perhaps the delectable twins are simply sleeping in after a . . . busy night."
Sam winced as Henriksen dropped his arms and pounded a fist on the desk.
"Get a warrant, you fucking Limey cockroach!" Henriksen roared.
Crowley's face darkened with an angry flush. "A little respect in my own goddamn office, if you please! I don't care if you're J. Edgar fucking Hoover, you can't speak to me like that here!"
He snapped his fingers at Sam. "Contact Judge Richard Roman about a warrant."
"Really? We're going to go to Roman, when--" Sam started. How could Crowley suggest that after what they'd just been discussing?
"Two birds, Samuel, one warrant. Either we find out where the Banes twins are, and/or we find out more about Roman's motives and actions." Crowley tersely filled Henriksen in on their new speculations regarding the Honorable Richard Roman.
"This is hard to believe about a man of his reputation," Henriksen mused. "Roman has very high credibility and standing in the legal community. On the other hand, it could explain a few things too." He nodded. "Yes, use him for the warrant. Maybe it'll help clarify the situation."
"What grounds are we claiming for the warrant?" Sam asked.
Crowley growled, "It's a damn brothel and drug den. I'm sure that alone qualifies as probable cause. Throw in two missing undercover informants as well." He waved a dismissive hand at Sam. "Go!"
Sam hurried back to his own office and picked up the phone. He directed Jo to contact the judge's office ASAP, wondering all the while what the judge would do in response. Whatever else happened today, it felt like they were at a turning point in the investigation.
Within a couple of minutes, Jo came into his office. "The judge wants all of you in his office." She grimaced. "Like, yesterday. He does not sound happy."
Sam strode back to Crowley's office, where he found Crowley and Henriksen glowering at each other.
Man, I just love inter-agency co-operation and camaraderie, Sam thought dryly.
"Judge Roman wants us all in his office pronto," he said aloud.
Crowley grunted and stood up. "Fine, fine. Hop along now, boys."
Henriksen was hot on Crowley's heels, while Sam trailed after them. He was nervous about meeting with the potentially dirty judge as much as he was tense from the animosity growing between his boss and the FBI agent.
This whole shebang isn't going to end well, he fretted, resisting the urge to bite his nails.
Judge Richard Roman's office was half again as large as Crowley's and twice as large as Sam's. His large mahogany desk had various legal memorabilia and a large calendar blotter on it. Several diplomas and commendations hung on the dark green wall behind it. A large leather couch and matching armchair stood off to the side, while two wooden chairs sat in front of the desk. The judge himself was sitting in a large, black leather executive chair that Sam guessed probably cost half his salary as an assistant D.A..
"What is all this noise about a warrant?" Judge Roman stood up with a wide, toothy smile and came around the front of his desk. "Henriksen--FBI, correct? I've heard good things about you, Victor. Now tell me, what does the FBI want in our little neck of the woods?"
Sam noted how the judge didn't offer his hand to Henriksen. It struck him as a little odd, if not downright impolite. As an FBI agent, Henriksen wasn't that far from Roman's rank, unlike Crowley, or of course, Sam.
Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but the judge peremptorily raised his hand, cutting Crowley off before he uttered a single word. Closing his mouth with a snap, Crowley resumed glowering.
Henriksen said, "We need a warrant to search Iniquity, Dean Winchester's place of business. We have reason to believe that there is drug trafficking and money laundering going on, which is what prompted our probe in the first place. I sent in two undercover agents to investigate, who did not make their check-in time and are now considered missing and endangered."
Judge Roman arched one well-groomed eyebrow. "Really! How long have they been missing?"
"They missed this morning's check-in."
Roman scoffed. "Not even twenty-four hours? Surely you're jumping the gun here. What makes you think there's anything nefarious about it?"
Henriksen took a deep breath. Sam could tell from the muscle jumping in his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes that he was restraining himself so as not to piss off the judge.
"Iniquity has been investigated several times and the D.A.'s office has been unable to sustain any charges brought to bear. However, the information they have gathered so far demonstrates that an environment of casual criminal behavior exists. With the missed reporting of my personnel, I can only believe something dire has befallen them in there."
The judge sneered as he said, "Well, perhaps sending two people in unsupported wasn't the brightest move, Agent Henriksen." He sighed as though he were terribly inconvenienced by Henriksen's faux pas. "I don't see that this is an emergency situation yet. Warrant denied. Dismissed."
Sam saw Henriksen's body stiffen in response to the judge's shocking statement. Even Crowley looked nonplussed. While admittedly less than twenty-four hours didn't qualify as a true missing persons for the general public, the danger of the undercover agents' situation should have overridden that.
What is the judge thinking? Sam thought as they all filed out of Roman's office. Is this part of his protecting Iniquity? And if so, why is Dean involved in such a slimy deal?
Shutting the door once they were back in Crowley's office, Sam leaned his back against it.
"What do we do now? Our hands are tied."
Crowley shrugged. "We do nothing." While he didn't look pleased about it, his voice was calm. Sam wondered if Crowley was relieved that he didn't have to deal with such a tricky, potentially volatile situation.
Henriksen went to the window and put a hand on its frame, staring outside. His ramrod-stiff back clearly telegraphed his anger, as did the loud drumming of his fingers on the metal window frame.
"But--" Sam started, then stopped. He didn't quite dare make a suggestion, not knowing how explosive Henriksen was likely to be at that moment.
Crowley sighed and shuffled through some file folders on his desk. "Might as well see what else is on deck." He hummed a little as he flipped through the folders. Henriksen didn't move.
The tension in the room felt like a ticking time bomb to Sam. He fidgeted, wanting to get the hell out of there before it blew. In addition, his stomach was churning with the wrongness of it all, and he didn't know if he felt like throwing up or--
Henriksen slammed his fist on the window frame and spun around.
"We're going in, warrant or no warrant." His face was grim. "I sent those people in there, and by God I am not abandoning them." He strode over to Crowley's desk. "I want four policemen for back-up, with an ambulance on stand-by."
Crowley stuttered, "But--but--without a warrant--"
"Fuck the warrant! And fuck Roman! I'm going over his head on this." Turning to Sam, Henriksen said, "I want you with us. You're the lawyer on this case, and you're his brother. I may need you in both capacities."
Sam nodded, his throat suddenly tight with apprehension. Henriksen gave him a short nod. "Get those men now, Crowley. I want two units ready to go in five!"
Sam found himself in Henriksen's car racing over to Iniquity with the two units behind them. Henriksen told them lights only, no sirens so as not to announce their arrival. The drive took mere minutes, with Sam clutching the door with one arm the whole way. It reminded him of being in the back seat of the Impala during one of his father's getaways, the car lurching at every turn, being pressed into the seat by the acceleration.
Fuck, Dean, please . . . the whores and drugs are bad enough, but at least not--please don't be involved in murder now . . .
* * * DW * * *
"Just heard over the police scanner about two units being dispatched with an FBI agent," Benny said urgently, bursting into Dean's office. "They'll be here any minute."
"Fine," said Dean. "Let them. We didn't kill the girl. Her brother did. Accidentally, but still." He grimaced at the prospect of dealing with the unavoidable investigation. While Alicia's death couldn't be pinned on him, the prospect of the police and FBI flooding Iniquity wasn't pleasant. "We'll co-operate fully with them, understand?"
"Yes sir," Benny answered.
"Let's go down and meet them. Oh, and Benny? I want to talk with Rowena this afternoon. I want to know what the hell happened with those wards." He stood up and went downstairs, Benny on his six.
Dean threw open the door just as the first car pulled in, the police units right behind it. He and Benny watched a tall, well-built Black man exit from the driver's side, followed by. . .
"Fuck, it's Sam." Benny clicked his tongue. "Not a good sign that they chose him to front this. They want to get to you."
"Yep," agreed Dean. "But it's not going to work."
He stepped through the front door, extending his right hand. "Dean Winchester."
"Victor Henriksen, Federal Bureau of Investigations." Henriksen ignored Dean's outstretched hand. He shrugged and dropped it. Henriksen gestured toward Sam. "You already know each other, I believe," he said dryly.
"Yes, yes we do. Heya, Sammy."
"It's Sam," Sam retorted.
"Saaam." Dean didn't bother concealing his eye roll. "And what can I do for you, Agent Henriksen?"
"I'm looking for two people who are missing. A man and woman--brother and sister, actually. Max Banes and Alicia Banes." Henriksen snapped his fingers and Sam handed him a photograph. Showing it to Dean, Henriksen continued, "They were last seen entering Iniquity yesterday."
Dean took the photo and glanced at it. "Yes, they were here yesterday." He stepped back and indicated the door. "Please, come in and I'll tell you everything we know."
Henriksen held a hand up to the policemen who'd gotten out of their cars and were waiting for instructions. "Sit tight for a minute. I'll appraise the situation."
He and Sam entered Iniquity's foyer after Dean, with Benny following up at the rear.
"What do you know of their whereabouts now?" Henriksen asked. "Are they here?"
"Yes, they are," Dean replied.
"Are they alright?"
Dean's smile disappeared. "No, they are not." He saw Sam give a start, a look of panic flashing across his face. Dean gave a little shake of his head to try and reassure his brother.
Sammy can't think I killed them, can he?
"I'm terribly sorry to tell you that Alicia Banes died here during the night." Dean held up a hand. "Neither I nor any of my people were involved in her death. Her brother Max performed some spellwork which apparently clashed with the protection wards I have on the building. There was a. . . I guess like a feedback loop, or some kind of blow-back, and Alicia was caught in it. She did not survive."
Henriksen frowned. Behind him, Dean saw Sam's face pale.
"What? Where is she--her body? Is Max still here?" Henriksen inquired angrily
"Yes, we put him in a locked room, not that he's up to doing anything. He's devastated at the death of his sister, much less by the knowledge it was at his actions. Benny will take you to him now."
"Don't move from here," Henriksen warned Dean. "We'll want to see everything. I'm going to have the men outside come in and start gathering evidence about her death and to corroborate your story."
"Of course, Agent. I would expect nothing less." Dean bowed graciously, as if they were discussing party arrangements instead of an accidental death.
Henriksen went to the door and motioned for the policemen to enter. He instructed them about what he wanted done before he followed Benny to go see Max.
Dean looked at Sam. "You know I had nothing to do with this, right? I've never killed anyone, and I didn't kill her."
Sam looked coldly at Dean. "You may not have killed her directly, but this place had a hand in it. You wouldn't need such strong wards if you weren't protecting your criminal interests."
"I was protecting my people." Dean replied harshly. "That's why I had those wards up." He felt a sneer cross his face while he went on. "I'm not Dad. I'm responsible for the health and well-being of everyone in my employ and my house, and I take that responsibility seriously. No one here is coerced, exploited, or harmed in any way."
Sam looked somewhat abashed. "Sorry, I . . . "
Dean snorted. "You thought I was following in our father's footsteps. Well, I may run a brothel, Sam, but the similarity to our father ends there. I actually care about my people." He took a deep breath to calm himself down. The thought of being compared to his father angered him to his core. "I'm going to go check on how Max is doing with the agent."
He turned on his heel and strode away.
On to Part 5