Babes in Toyland Chapter 5
Title: Babes in Toyland Chapter 5
Author: JCRGIRL
Banner: emeraldheiress
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: R
Warnings: Wincest, AU, BabyFic (Non-MPreg),
Word Count: ~ 3900
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: Christmas with new and old friends. A lot less sex and a little more action?!
Author Notes: Joey Verse and chronologically follows 'I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus' though a few years have passed. Title from the story "Babes in Toyland".
A/N: You'll notice that its not beta'd only because people were a little upset with the timeframe between chapters and with my schedule and my beautiful beta's its a several week process. So ANY mistakes you find are all mine, like my children I gave birth to them and; therefore, have to claim them even when I don't want to. Also, I tried a different style with Sam's phone conversation, hope it works.
“I’m going with you.” Josh moved toward his bedroom, hands tugging the back of his t-shirt over his head.
“No, you’re not,” Casey’s voice was emotionless but held a clear tone of authority.
“The hell I’m not. It’s just the three of you and you don’t even know what you’re up against.”
“Five,” Dean and Sam chorused.
“Oh, fuck no,” Casey rounded on them, calm slipping. Dean set his jaw and squared off against the petite girl, stubbornness on full display. Sam shifted into place behind his left shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. Casey closed her eyes and blew a hard breath out through her nose, lips pinched almost to disappearance. Silent moments passed and Dean could almost hear her mental countdown from ten. Composure back in check, she opened chocolate eyes and studied the two men towering over her.
“Okay.”
“Okay? What the fuck? If they’re going so am I,” Josh nearly shouted.
“No, you’re not.” It was a period, end of sentence, end of discussion. She turned to the brothers again. “You need hardware?
Dean nodded and felt Sam’s arms relax from their imposing posture now that intimidation was no longer needed.
“Why do they get go and I don’t?” Josh crossed his arms over his chest, more pouting and less menacing than Sam’s.
Dean bit back a laugh at how similar to Joey Josh looked at that moment. The reminder of their son sent another surge of adrenaline through his system and he started to fidget with the excess energy. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.” Sam’s large hand slid over his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, stepping out of the way of the returning girls. Casey directed Ruthie and Ariel to drop the bags they had come in with on the counter.
Casey didn’t react to Dean’s words. “Because you haven’t had any formal training. Plus they are Mary Campbell’s sons and were taught by John Winchester. There may not be any love loss with the bastard, but I do respect him.”
Casey pulled a silver Taurus out of the bag that Ruthie had brought in and slid a loaded clip into the base. Pulling the slide back to chamber the first round, she passed it to Dean ignoring Ariel’s questioning gaze. A black Ruger followed, the lock and load process repeated before it was handed to Sam.
“Ruthie, I want you and Ariel to take the Expedition. Dean and Sam will ride with me.” Ruthie nodded and went to a rack of keys by the back door and snagged the set with a Ford keychain.
“They’re coming with us?!” Ariel’s sneered gaze took in first Sam then Dean before settling on Casey who merely considered the girl with stony expression. Ruthie’s hand encircled Ariel’s wrist and pulled her out the back door.
“Josh,” Casey turned to be greeted by Josh’s cold glare. Sighing, her face softened. “Please.” Her tone begged him to understand. “Can you bring her around for me?”
Sam watched Josh’s folded arms loosen and resignation cross his face. “Of course.” Josh stepped forward, his thick fingers wrapped around the double pendants hanging at Casey’s throat. “You make sure you keep these. I don’t fucking want them, understand?”
Casey wrapped her hand over Josh’s and whispered, “I understand.”
Josh dropped the metal disks and brushed past Casey, skirting around the brothers with a curt nod. The window in the back door rattled as it swung shut after him.
Looking over at Steve, Casey sighed again. “Try to talk to him. Also, we need four more rooms ready, please.” Steve nodded his head. Turning her attention to Trotter, Casey moved to the counter in front of him. “Be ready for anything. I’ll call with a detail.” Trotter nodded, eyes downcast into the coffee mug cradled between his bear sized paws.
An engine rumbled its way around the side of the house to the front. A car door slammed and a few moments later Josh appeared. Tossing Casey the keys, he leaned against the wall sullenly. Deftly catching the keys, Casey zipped up the duffels and threw one at each boy before hefting the last one onto her shoulder.
She made her way to the front door, the Winchesters trailing behind, and looked pointedly at Josh. “We’ll be right back.”
One trunk and three door slams later, Dean found himself settled into the passenger seat of Casey’s Judge with her behind the wheel. They tore through the darkness, the speedometer hovering thirty over the posted speed limit and not lowering as they entered more urban areas.
Sam sat in the backseat trapped in a frantic, vicious cycle.
Dial, Ring, Voicemail, Curse, Hang-up, Repeat.
Dad, Bobby, Hannah, Jenni, Mike, Repeat.
Dial, Ring
“Why isn’t anyone answering?”
Voicemail
‘This is John Winchester…”
“Fuck!”
Hang-up
In the front seat Dean fidgeted, his right foot pressing down on the floorboard, toes seeking an imaginary gas pedal that would make the car go faster. “I don’t know.”
Dial
“They wouldn’t all have shut off their phones.”
Ring
“No they wouldn’t.” Dean cut his eyes over to their silent driver. Her face was determined and grim, focused on the dark road ahead.
Voicemail
‘Singer. Leave a mess…’
“Shit!”
Hang-up
“Casey?” Dean’s voice floated over the front seat.
Dial
“Yeah?” The girl leaned forward to watch a stale yellow light flick to red as they drove under.
Ring
“You know don’t you?”
Sam raised his head to find Dean scrutinizing Casey carefully in the front seat.
Voicemail
‘Hi, you’ve reached Hannah…’
“Goddamnit!”
Hang-up
“Tell. Us.” The words passed through gritted teeth, Dean’s annoyance forcing its way over hard enamel.
Sam paused, his thumb over the SEND button, Jenni’s number displayed on the screen in bold black.
“The energy required to possess a body can sometimes knock out nearby electronics. The more powerful the demon, the greater the disturbance. Have you ever received a call during a demon attack?”
Sam made a weird sound, the mutated offspring of a gasp and a sob, and looked at his brother.
Dean turned steely eyes forward. “Drive faster.”
As they neared the entrance to the hotel, Casey slowed for a red light and checked the rearview mirror to see if Ruthie was still behind her. Eyes fixed forward again, she spoke firmly, “I agreed to let you come but there are some conditions.”
“Conditions,” Sam asked before Dean could be completely pulled from his reverie.
“Yes. You will listen to me, obey every order no matter your opinion. There is only one Captain and that position rests with me. I am responsible for you, my girls and everyone we have to get out. My decisions are final and not up for discussion. Dissention leads to disaster.”
Dean opened his mouth to comment, but Casey slashed her hand through the air to silence him. “This is how it is. If you can’t do that then stay in the car because once we’re inside I’ll shoot you myself.”
Casey pulled her car up to the rear of the hotel, wheels rolling to a stop beside a loading bay. A white sign next to the corrugated metal door read:
DELIVERIES ONLY
BETWEEN 2PM AND 4PM
MONDAY - FRIDAY
Peering at the sign, Dean felt it necessary to point out. “You know we’re registered here. We can go in the front.”
“Dressed the way we are, Ruthie, Ariel and I will draw too much attention. As will the firepower you’re carrying.” She slammed the car into gear and opened her door as the Expedition pulled up beside her. In the glow of the overhead light, Dean realized both he and Sam had left their jackets draped over the plush chairs at the ranch. His Henley may disguise the pistol at his back, but Sam’s fitted Western shirt wouldn’t. Grumbling, he got out of the car and stood next to Casey who was eying a numbered keypad to the left of the door, Sam coming up on his other side still clutching his useless cellphone.
The doors of the Expedition banged and soft voices, edged in whispered harshness, drifted to them in obvious disagreement.
“Ariel, access.” Casey’s barked command silenced the hushed argument. Ariel moved to the electronic lock with a pencil case and a look of determination.
“First priority is Joey then the civvies. Five going in, eleven coming out. Standard protocols.” Casey watched Ariel as she pried the keypad from the wall with her pocket knife and fingered the wires hidden behind.
“Understood,” Ruthie answered.
“Room numbers?” Casey didn’t turn from watching the raven haired girl press buttons on a hand held device and when she didn’t receive an answer, she nudged Dean’s side with her elbow. “Room numbers,” she repeated.
“Oh. Our room was 315. Dad’s in 313, Bobby 317 and Hannah in 312.”
“Third floor,” Casey mumbled and her gaze rose to examine the exterior of the building. “Odds on the inside, right?”
Dean glanced at her profile in confusion as Sam answered. “Yes, balconies overlook the courtyard.”
Nodding, Casey eyes lowered at Ariel’s ‘We’re in’ and the loading bay door rolling upward.
“She may be a major bitch, but she’s good at what she does,” Ruthie muttered bemusedly, shaking her head.
“Let’s go.” Casey led the way into the darkened dock.
They made their way silently through the storage area, moving deftly around stacks of boxed supplies and shipping containers. Double swinging doors opened to a hallway. To the right, the sound of dishes clinking and hurried voices combined with savory scents - the kitchen - while the left was dotted with canvas sided rolling bins full of dirty sheets and towels and housekeeping carts lined with phalanxes of shampoos, conditioners and lotions ready to be called into service during the morning room cleanings.
They quietly navigated their way in the opposite direction of the staffed kitchen to a service elevator. Moving down the carpeted third floor hallway, Casey stopped as they approached the turn that would lead them to rooms 310-325.
“Ariel, you go to 312 and get Hannah. Ruthie, you go to 317 and get Bobby. Sam, Dean and I will get to John and Joey.”
Nodding they headed down the hallway, but Casey slowed Dean with a restraining hand. “Don’t let Sam or Joey touch me.”
Dean raised a questioning eyebrow and received a soft ‘trust me’ in response.
Dean and Sam flanked Casey, a valley between two mountains, and stared at Room number 313. Sam stepped forward and pounded a fist against the metal door.
No answer.
“Dad, open up,” he shouted, fist shaking the door on its frame.
No answer.
A strong hand wrapped around Sam’s bicep and moved him out from in front of the entry. Casey gritted her teeth, face turning red, and took a deep breath. In one fluid movement, she kicked out, foot connecting just to the side of the knob. The door flew open and bounced off the wall behind it. Exchanging surprised glances, Dean and Sam followed the petite brunette into the dimly lit entry of their father’s room, each pulling their concealed weapon from its hiding place.
The room was eerily quiet and cold panic twisted Sam’s stomach. As they neared the main room, he peered over Casey’s head to see a Hispanic women dressed in a neatly pressed hotel uniform standing near the desk. Craning his neck he could see a portion of the bed furthest from the door where small sock clad feet disappeared at the hem of achingly familiar dinosaur pajama bottoms. He suppressed a whimper and felt Dean bump his side vying for a better vantage point, unable to see into the room from his place against the inside wall.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” the woman’s accented voice sing-songed.“You wanted in so badly. Plus, it’s rude to lurk in doorways. Didn’t your mothers ever teach you better?” Her red glossed lips curled into a feral smile. “Oh wait. That’s right, they’re dead. So I guess not.”
The trio walked into the light and Dean saw the room for the first time. Joey sat on the bed, face glistening with tears and snot, eyes wide in terror and body shuddering under silent sobs. Pinned to the wall, feet dangling uselessly a foot above the ground, was John Winchester, tendons and muscles of his neck strained in his attempts to move and speak. His face and hands were a mass of blood and bruises that bore witness to his attempts to protect his grandson.
“Look, it’s a Winchester family reunion,” the woman crowed. Her eyes fell to Casey, hovering protectively in front of the brothers. “And baby mama too. Well, that’s just a bonus.”
“Daddy!”
Sam’s feet moved without actual permission from his brain, magnetically drawn to his son’s anguished voice. He made it two steps when the woman snarled a threat and made a motion with her hand. Sam heard his name and felt his body propelled through the air. Wood shattering and metal creaking echoed in the small space, but surprisingly Sam found himself on the soft, plush carpeted floor. Sitting up he turned to see Dean launch himself at the woman only to be flung against the wall next to the eldest Winchester, both men now dangling above Sam’s head.
“Sammy, get Joey and…” Dean’s words died in his throat and his face went purple with the effort to force them past whatever the woman had used to silence him.
Sam rose into a crouch, prepared to hurdle the queen bed in front of him to get to his son still sitting on the neighboring one, when a force slammed him back into the wall between and beneath his father and brother. Mounted to the wall like insects to a board, only lacking an identifying placard.
Class: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Mammalia
Order: Primates
Family: Winchester
Species: Hunter
Shaking his head and seriously worrying for his sanity, Sam tried to establish eye contact with his frightened son, the only comfort he could provide at the moment. Liquid hazel shimmered in the light, but connected and held with his as he silently tried to reassure Joey.
“As much as I’d like to have the complete collector’s series, little one,” the woman cooed approaching the bed Joey laid on, “you’re the only one that is in mint condition.”
Bile rose in Sam’s throat and he could hear the pained grunts of John and Dean as they fought to free themselves from their invisible bonds. She was going to take Joey. Sam raged impotently against the force holding him down, pained screams of anguish and frustration dying before they were born. She was going to take his son.
The air crackled with static electricity that forced the hair on his neck to stand on end. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw a figure emerge out of the darkness. Light reflected off the barrel of a gun a moment before a flame and smoke erupted from the end. The woman’s body jerked, a blossom of red exploding across the shoulder of the stiffly starched sage green shirt, as the bullet rocked her body back.
“Stay away from my son, bitch!”
Casey stepped forward as the woman regained her footing and rushed her. Casey raised her hand and words fell from her lips like water from a cup, strange words that Sam could hear but his mind shied away from and refused to comprehend. The woman stopped, frozen, and Sam felt the weight holding him in place recede. A sliding sound followed by two thuds and twin groans let him know that his father and brother had been released too. Jumping up, Sam vaulted over the empty bed and scooped up Joey. Joey nestled into his chest and curled his fingers into the fabric of his father’s shirt, desperately holding on.
“Sam, get Joey out now!” Dean voice broke through the din background noise that Casey’s foreign words had created in Sam’s ear and he turned to see Dean pulling John up from the floor. The arm still clutching his gun in false security snugged his son to his chest while his large hand cradled the small head to his shoulder. Sam moved to the room’s entryway and stuttered to a halt at the remains of the door and surrounding wall lying in shattered pieces across the floor and the hall beyond. Crushing Joey harder to him, Sam picked his way through the wreckage to the hall where he met Ruthie, Bobby and Jenni. He noticed the drywall opposite the hallway from the gaping hole was caved in as well.
Ruthie’s dark eyes quickly surveyed the damage and shoved past him into the hotel room. Hurried footsteps had Sam shifting his precious cargo so he could raise his gun at the approaching unknown factors. Ariel, Hannah and Mike skid to a stop, hands raised in submission. Sam lowered his weapon and resumed his two armed hold on the little boy in his grasp.
“Move.” Ariel urged Hannah and Mike past the broken bits of metal, wood and plaster toward the service elevator they’d used earlier. She pushed Bobby and Jenni into motion, shouting at Sam when he only gazed back at the murmured sounds still coming from his father’s room. “Sam! Save your son!”
Sam stumbled numbly into action, feet finding a way to put one in front of the other. He stopped when he heard Dean’s raised voice behind him volleying with Ruthie’s insistent one.
“Casey’s still in there!” Dean tried to pull his arm free from the girl’s tight grasp around his bicep. Her other hand was around John’s waist for support.
“Casey’s orders were Joey then civvies. That’s you.” Ruthie tugged him forward, tripping over the debris as she struggled to keep a firm grip on his arm.
“But she’s still in there.” Dean twisted and was able to break the hold. “I’m going back in. Get everyone downstairs, we’ll follow you in a minute.” He saw Sam standing a little way down the hall, Joey clasped against his solid frame. “Five go in, eleven come out,” he repeated Casey’s words, eyes locked with Sam’s. “Get our son to safety. I’ll be right behind you.”
He shoved Ruthie and John in his brother’s direction for good measure and darted back into the room before anymore protests could be launched.
Shifting John’s arm over her shoulders for better leverage, Ruthie trudged over to where Sam stood staring at the last placed he’d seen Dean, hoping it wasn’t the last time he saw Dean. “Let’s go,” she nudged Sam toward the elevator.
Dean rushed back into the room to find Casey and the other woman still locked in the stand-off they had been in when he had been forced out by Ruthie. Casey continued her litany while the woman tried to break free from whatever hold Casey had over her. The words were different from the ones earlier but still as dissonant. They vibrated harshly in Dean’s ears, making him want to cover them and cower away. He forced himself closer, hand reaching out to land softly against Casey’s cotton covered back.
“Casey, everyone’s safe. Let’s go.”
The other woman cackled and Casey’s voice rose in volume and strength. Dean crouched over, hands flying to his ears but he forced them down by sheer will. He ducked his head as the overhead light and the lamps flanking the beds exploded in a spray of sparks and the furniture vibrated.
“Casey that’s enough!” He tugged on her belt, but she stood firm. The mirror over the dresser and the full length one on the wall cracked up the middle, spider webbing fingers spreading to the outer edges.
“Casey! Fall back!” Instinctively, Dean reached out and wrapped his fingers around her outstretched arm. Once flesh met flesh, Dean felt as someone reached into his chest and yanked something significant out of him. Fire cascaded down his spine and his knees tried to buckle.
Casey’s words stopped on a gasp and she flitted shocked eyes at him before a scream was wrenched from her throat and Dean felt its echo force its way up his. The pull in his chest intensified and then he saw something erupt from Casey’s chest, a deafening boom accompanied by a blinding light that forced his eyelids to close. Chaos reigned as wood scraped and splintered and glass shattered. Then everything went deathly quiet.
Dean feared for a moment that he had gone deaf from the noise until he detected the faint sound of wind whistling and registered his own harsh panting. His knees finally gave up the ghost and he sank to the floor, Casey’s arm still solid in his hand.
Prying his lids open, he gasped at the scene around him. The furniture had been shoved against the far wall and the French door swung loosely on their hinges, the glass panes now littering the small balcony beyond. The Hispanic woman was on the ground unconscious, blood flowing freely from the gunshot wound to her shoulder, but breathing. Next to him Casey stood stock still, gazing at the room awestruck. A trickle of blood trailed down from her right nostril and Dean could see the beginnings of bruises peppering her shoulder and arm, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. She reached into a cargo pocket with the arm not currently being squeezed in Dean’s viselike grip and pulled a small metal flask out. Uncapping it with her teeth, she flicked the contents over the supine woman. Grunting, she recapped the bottle and returned it to her pocket.
Holy water.
Uncurling his fingers, Dean slowly got to his feet surprised when a gentle hand helped steady him. “Can you walk?” Casey’s voice was just above a croak, vocal chords abused from her chanting and the soul scarring scream.
“Yeah,” Dean groaned. He’d forgotten how much fun being thrown into walls really wasn’t. Casey guided him past the shards of mirror and remnants of light bulbs then over the wreckage at the door. “Do you know what happened to the door,” he asked absently.
“Me,” Casey answered sheepishly. “When Sam went for Joey, she was going to fling him. I pushed him out of the way but didn’t move fast enough to get myself out of the way.”
“Jesus! Are you okay?” Dean looked over at a large purpling spot on her shoulder. They walked down the hallway ignoring the scared and questioning gazes of the other guests as they emerged from their rooms, roused by the sound of the fight.
“Just some bruises and I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow, but no biggie. Better me than Sam.”
They waited for the elevator doors to open and entered the empty car. Dean rose up to his full height and rubbed at the phantom ache in his chest. He’d never experienced anything like that and never wanted to again.
“What did you do up there?” He stared at the girl’s profile as she watched the lighted numbers decrease as they descended.
“That wasn’t me.” Casey turned worried eyes to him.
“Then what was it,” Dean asked accusingly.
“You.”
The doors opened to nine sets of anxious eyes and once again Dean felt his knees buckle.