spnxdf: Lost Sons Chapter 7
SPNxDF: Lost Sons
Chapter 7
wc: 3,682
Much to Harry's surprise, Thomas Raith was waiting for him when he pulled into the gravel parking lot belonging to the old boarding house where he lived in the basement apartment. The vampire had been sitting in a white Jag on the street, but wasted no time climbing out of it and trapping the wizard into his own car once the Blue Beetle came to a stop in its usual parking place.
Harry turned off the engine and listened to the Beetle choke itself into a dead silence. When he couldn't get out of his car, Harry rolled down his window and peered up at his half brother.
Thomas was half a head shorter than Harry and had the body of the perfect underwear model. He was dressed in black, save a fine white scarf around his neck, buffered from his throat with a high collar on a sweater. His hair was as black as Harry's, but slightly longer and blessed with the perfect natural curl. There were similar facial features, but the one that stood out the most was the other man's pale colored eyes.
"Harry," Thomas said through his teeth. "Do you have any sense in your god damn head?" He demanded, planting his hands firmly on the roof of the Beetle and allowing his whole body to block the window. "You should have left for Edinburgh hours ago!"
Harry stared at Thomas, surprised. "Hello Thomas. Nice to see you. You don't call much these days. How is Justine?" he deadpanned.
"This isn't funny Harry!" Thomas pressed.
"I know. You haven't talked to me in months." Since the skin walker, Harry added to himself. "You wouldn't be here unless it was life or death right now," the wizard noted, now making sense of Thomas's odd posture over the window of the car. His brother was shielding him and using his own body to do it.
"Is this about the hunters?" Harry asked after a moment.
Thomas's jaw hardened. "The Winchesters have come to Chicago for you, Harry!"
Harry wasn't sure how his brother did it, but the statement alone was laced with both raging fury and pure fear.
"Thomas, let me out of my car," he said after a minute.
"You should go to Edinburgh. They can't get you there." Thomas pressed. "They were here less than an hour ago, trying to break in!"
Harry's tone became more forceful. "Thomas, let me out."
The vampire stared at him for a moment more, frustrated. He then drew back with a growl and allowed the wizard to unfold his lanky frame from the Beetle's interior and out into the parking lot. He scanned the area, paying attention to the cars driving up and down the road and the building across the street, where he had once caught a private investigator taking pictures of his apartment once before.
"They were trying to break in?" Harry asked, reaching for the back door and pulling out the files on the Carthage case. "You watched them do it?"
"When Mac called, I tried to catch up to them." Thomas explained tersely. "I couldn't find you at your office and when I called Murphy, you had already left the station. I had hoped you'd drop everything and run for the hills."
"They're just guys," Harry said, closing up his car.
"Winchesters," Thomas said, as if the name in itself was something to be revered. "Do you want to know what I know about Winchesters?"
"I hear it's a nice gun," The wizard shot back.
Thomas grabbed hold of Harry by the arm and marched them both down the steps to the apartment. There in the thin layer of snow that barely coated the cement landing were foot prints belonging to neither the vampire nor the wizard.
"They were starting to pick the locks when some guy in a trench coat stopped them. He must have known your place was warded," Thomas explained, holding up his talisman to disarm the wards. "Which is a damn shame since I was hoping your wards would kill them both."
"You really are taking this too far," Harry said, shouldering the steel security door and forcing it open. He managed with a firm bump to jar it loose from its warped frame and walk in.
Thomas locked them back up and decided to check the weapons cached in the popcorn tin next to the door. "I can't believe you," he muttered, picking up a sawed off shotgun and checking to see if it was loaded. "They are hunters Harry. They'd sooner shoot you in the head than to understand what is that you do and why you do it."
"So you're telling me if I wanted to call them out for a chat, they aren't going to care that I do what I do to help people? I thought they had issues with things that hurt people, not save them," Harry demanded. He snatched the shotgun out of his brother's hand and shoved it back into the tin. He waved his hand about the room and muttered the incantation to light the candles scattered about. A puff of flame began to smolder in the fireplace.
Thomas's expression actually darkened in the light. "If they knew I was there, they would have taken my head from my shoulders and not thought twice about it," he said coldly. "Lara is just as wound up over them and has locked down the mansion. I shouldn't even be here."
Harry peeled off his duster and hung up on a hook by the door. "I really think you're overreacting," he said, trying to stay on his feet as thirty pounds of cat shoulder him in the shins. "Murphy thinks they are here about Carthage."
"Then drop the case," Thomas ordered, watching his brother set into the alcove of his kitchen to fill the dishes for the cat and dog. "Because they probably think you are responsible for that mess."
Harry scoffed. "There is no way I could pull off a summoning ritual like that, let alone kill that many people and make a bunch more disappear in one night," he said. "There were hunters in Carthage when it all went to hell."
Thomas actually let out an exasperated laugh. "Great." He threw up his arms in defeat. "Not only do they probably think you did it, they'll want your head for probably killing one of their own."
"Yeah well," Harry muttered. "If they came to town to kill me, they are doing a piss poor job of it," he said, digging about the ice box for something to eat. He produced a can of tuna and some bread, alongside a can of coke. "I caught one of them in my office building this afternoon."
"And you let him go?" Thomas demanded.
Harry shook his head. "He vanished."
The vampire stared at him. The silence that stretched on in the wake of that statement unnerved Harry as he went about making his supper. He paused in the middle of draining the water from the tuna to glance at his brother.
"He vanished?" Thomas repeated.
"That's what I said," Harry replied.
The vampire sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Harry, you really should leave town," he said.
"I can't leave." The wizard announced. "I've got work to do. The White Council is crawling the walls trying to figure out what happened in Carthage. People are dead. Ten thousand people are dead and you expect me to walk away from that?"
Thomas dropped his hand, defeat now ghosting across his face. "Empty night!" he cursed. "Don't tell me you are going to try and prove to these guys you didn't do it."
"I didn't," Harry said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.
The vampire sighed and focused his steel colored gaze on the fire that was steadily growing across the room, bringing warmth in its wake. "Then what would? If it can't be human could it be one of the Queens?"
"Oh hell no." Harry's face soured. "That is totally out of bounds for them."
"Then a demon?" Thomas offered.
The wizard shrugged. "Demon using a human, maybe." Harry said. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. He cast his eyes to the square bit of carpet that was the trap door to his lab. He was eventually going to go down there and pick up his research again once Thomas left.
"Bob said this was biblical." Harry said.
Thomas lifted a brow at him. "You have a bible?"
Harry cast him a dower look. As if that had to be asked of the wizard. Thomas lifted his hands up in defense.
"It would make a lot of sense." Thomas offered. "The crap that happened in Carthage sounds like it was ripped right out of Revelations."
Thanksgiving morning arrived with Molly Carpenter and about three inches of snow. Harry squinted into the morning sunlight and pulled back the door to let his young apprentice in.
Molly reached up to her toque and pulled it off, revealing the new color of the month, a deep dark bloody red that now graced the top of her head. She held in her hands a beat up black book with worn gilded pages. The front of it had embossed lettings with flaking gold print that read The Holy Bible.
"I brought you mine," she said, holding the book out to him in her mitten covered hands. "And I've come to get you."
Harry frowned at her. "For what?" he asked. A lot of people were insisting they came to get him or take him away these days. After seeing his brother's rapt concern for his wellbeing last night, Harry had woken up this morning wondering if he shouldn't just pack up some of the stuff in his lab, grab Molly (as her teacher in all things magic, it was safe to assume she could also be a target of the hunters as well), and head to Edinburgh for a long vacation.
"I came to invite you to dinner," Molly said. "Mom made plenty and Dad and I thought you could use a break. We've…been worried about you…since you got back."
Harry looked down at the book in his hands. He had put all of Molly's lessons on hold since being rushed out to Carthage. Upon his return he had made it clear that he needed time to work on his case and planned to actually keep Molly far away from this disturbing event.
But that didn't mean Molly hadn't been able to watch the news and figure out for herself what her teacher had gotten himself into. Michael too.
"Please, Harry," Molly said. "Dad's waiting outside in the truck."
Harry sighed after a minute and nodded. "Alright. Let me…give this to Bob and put on a better shirt." The wizard announced. Molly's eyes brightened and she started for the door. As she did, Harry grabbed the back of her coat.
"Tell your dad not to wait for me. The two of you go home." Harry ordered. "I'll be along. Promise."
Molly stared at him, surprise. "Uh…sure."
Harry let go and watched as Molly slipped outside into the glaring white morning. Michael Carpenter's truck loomed just above the horizon and blended in very well with the snow. As his apprentice climbed into the passenger seat of the behemoth, he could see Michael lift a hand from the wheel in a gesture of hello.
Harry mimicked the motion. But as he did, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread come over him. He had been too busy in this investigation to care that two, maybe three, guys who had it out for the otherworldly might have come to town to kill him…and that his apprentice might be caught in the crossfire. Hell, maybe even Michael and the rest of his family as well.
It had happened before.
"Chinese food, the staple of a Winchester Thanksgiving," Sam muttered.
Dean glanced up at him from a carton of lo mein. "I drove through a blizzard to get you egg drop soup. Shut up."
"Dean, you should not lie to your brother," Castiel said, poking at a piece of sweet and sour chicken with a chopstick. Sam had yet to figure out how much longer Dean was going to insist the angel use the wooden dining utensils since it was clear the only reason he had not been handed a fork yet was for the other hunter's amusement. "There has been no blizzard since before dawn and you did not retrieve this meal. I did, at your request."
Sam turned to his brother, brows raised and a smile starting to spread across his face. "Thank you, Cas." He then fished around a plastic bag and produced a fork. "Here, use this instead."
Castiel took the offered fork and set his chopsticks down. "Thank you."
Dean pouted at Sam for running his fun and proceeded to continue eating, in his mind, the delightful feast spread before them.
There was little else to do besides sit around the motel room and keep themselves entertained, since all of Chicago was shut down for the holiday. Sam had spent the whole morning rutting about the Chicago Public Library's digital records and dozens of archives from the local papers. Dean had made himself useful and cleaned every gun in the Impala, sharpened the knives, and made fresh holy water while watching the Macy's Day Parade and explaining to Castiel the importance of the event.
It was odd to have the angel stay with them for so long. Dean was insistent that Castiel remained with them while he finished recuperating from his brothers. This morning the bandage on the side of the angel's neck could finally be removed along with the tape around his ribs. There was now hardly any evidence that he had even been wounded only a few days ago. Somewhere in all of that, Dean had managed to convince the angel he needed to part take in more human rituals to keep up his strength and had successfully taught him in the finer points of first aid.
Sam sighed and looked down at his lunch. He had gotten tired at staring at the computer and had gone for a walk. When he came back, Dean and Castiel had procured a fine selection of Chinese food from the motel's restaurant listing.
"What have you discerned from your research, Sam?" Castiel asked around a mouthful of food. Sam made a note to let the angel know talking with one's mouth full was something Dean did and not Hosts of Heaven.
The younger brother moved his pie tin of sesame chicken aside and picked up a stack of notes that had been left haphazardly on his bed. "That we completely suck at reading newspapers," he announced and dropped a stack about an inch and half thick between him and Dean.
"How so?" Dean asked, confused.
Sam held up the first print out from the top of the pile. "This is an article from The Midwestern Arcane," he said. "Read it."
Dean took it and rocked back onto the back legs of his chair. He braced himself against the baseball themed partition that divided the kitchenette from their beds and proceeded to read and chew on an eggroll. Sam watched as Dean read, his expression nonchalant as the other hunter's rhythmic chewing began to slow and come to a stop about half way through the page.
The front legs of Dean's chair hit the floor again with a crack. "This is a werewolf attack," he said around a mouthful of food.
"Yeah. From 2001," Sam added. He snatched the paper out of Dean's hand and handed it to Castiel. While the angel read for himself, Sam shoved another one at his brother. "This is an account from a medical examiner about a fire in 2002. He testified, in court, that the bodies they recovered were not completely human."
"Vampires," Dean mused.
"And this…," Sam held up another article, "is about a couple of guys who were arrested for breaking into the nursery of Cook County hospital." He started to hand it to Dean when he instead offered it to Castiel. "Read the highlighted bit, Cas."
The angel took a moment to find the section Sam indicated. "According to this, 'An eyewitness account described one of the men as wearing a white cloak with a red cross and carrying a five foot long board sword.'."
"Amoracchius was a broad sword. And white cloaks with crosses are a sign of Templar Knights," Dean spoke up, hold out his hand for the paper. "What the hell was going on in Cook County?"
Sam leafed through his stack and held up a folder with some of the printouts in it. "This." He slapped it down in the middle of the table. "Apparently there was a string of infant deaths in the nursery over the last hundred or so years. It began around the time of an Agatha Haggletorn's murder suicide. According to a police report at the time of her death, she killed her abusive husband after she suffocated their child," the younger hunter explained. "After the night the wizard and a Michael Carpenter were arrested, the mortality rate in the nursery dropped like a rock."
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. "This guy is doing our job."
"Looks like," Sam nodded in agreement. He shifted through the stack and produced another document. "This was two years later. A Japanese man was found tortured and killed in O'Hare International Airport. Get this, his body was found in the chapel, body drained of its blood. Police say that the walls were covered in 'satanic runes'. The body was identified through dental records as Shiro Yoshimo. Dresden was a prime suspect in the case until an anonymous tip turned it into a terrorist investigation. The police think the murders of several foreigners, including Yoshimo, was the work of a terrorist cell."
Castiel lowered his head somberly. "The significance of his death and the manner in which it occurred must mean he was one of the Knights."
"Killed in a chapel," Dean muttered with a shake of his head. "I'll try not to see the irony in that." He looked up at Sam. "Is there anything else?"
Sam sat back in his chair and stared down at the pile of paper. "Yeah. But nothing to do with the swords," he replied. "The rest of it is all…unruly ghosts, stray witches and wizards, vampire attacks, strange weather patterns, reports of zombies…"
The other hunter perked up. "Zombies?"
"Zombies," Sam nodded.
Dean closed his eyes in exasperation. "Wow. This city is messed up," he muttered. "And Dresden's been in the middle of all of it, doing our job."
"Looks like." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that is why no one's come to town to punch his ticket yet." He looked up at Dean and Castiel, looking between them both. "I also did my homework on the Nevernever."
Castiel's jaw tightened in annoyance. "I will not take either of you with me to confront the Queens in return for the amulet."
"Tough shit," Dean snapped. He looked over at Sam. "Whatcha got?"
"There are ways for mortals to cross the veil." Sam explained. "Literal Ways. But it takes someone with some considerable skill and power to pierce the veil."
The older hunter pointed a finger at Castiel. The angel actually glared in return.
"Or a wizard," Sam added. He didn't doubt for a second the look Castiel fired his way was suppose to turn him into a salt pillar where he sat.
"The wizard?" Dean's brow knitted together. "Aw come on Sam! We're gonna ask him to help us with that mess too? We've already botched meeting him on even ground."
Sam sighed, sifting through the wreckage that was now lunch, notes, and printouts for a crumpled yellow pages ad. "Maybe we should just call the guy and come right out with it."
"That's a brilliant plan," was the sarcastic reply.
"Then what do you suggest Dean? We stroll up to his house, kick in the door, point a gun to his head and say please?" he challenged. "Oh and while we're at it, rob him of the swords?"
Castiel looked up. "As I have said before, attempting to break into the wizard's home is unwise."
"Yeah because his house is wired to blow if someone messes with the front door." Dean waved a hand at him. "We got it the first time."
The room fell into an uneasily silence, which was only disturbed by the sounds of the television droning on in the background. The dull roar of a football game had been their background music through the conversation, but as the silence stretched on the game came to a halt and the sounds of trumpets and drums belong to a news channel followed in its wake. Castiel turned his attention quickly to that, since he was sitting facing the box at their small table. Both brothers in turn pulled themselves out of their musings just as the reporter faded in.
"Many people are still grieving for the loss of life in the city of Carthage, Missouri, today. Federal investigators have raised the death toll to a staggering 11,369 lives as of this morning, with thousands more still missing. Homeland Security has made their first official announcement today concerning the disaster, confirming the possibility of this being a terrorist act after the careful investigation of a bombing that took place at a local hardware store…"
The silence that had overtaken the motel room was suddenly disturbed by the sound of Dean's chair skidding back across the floor and the furious rutting about to recover his coat.
Sam was snapped out of his reverie just as Dean stormed for the door.
"Dean!" He called, getting up. "Dean, wait!"
The older hunter stepped out into the cold afternoon and slammed the door in his wake.
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Chapter 7
wc: 3,682
Much to Harry's surprise, Thomas Raith was waiting for him when he pulled into the gravel parking lot belonging to the old boarding house where he lived in the basement apartment. The vampire had been sitting in a white Jag on the street, but wasted no time climbing out of it and trapping the wizard into his own car once the Blue Beetle came to a stop in its usual parking place.
Harry turned off the engine and listened to the Beetle choke itself into a dead silence. When he couldn't get out of his car, Harry rolled down his window and peered up at his half brother.
Thomas was half a head shorter than Harry and had the body of the perfect underwear model. He was dressed in black, save a fine white scarf around his neck, buffered from his throat with a high collar on a sweater. His hair was as black as Harry's, but slightly longer and blessed with the perfect natural curl. There were similar facial features, but the one that stood out the most was the other man's pale colored eyes.
"Harry," Thomas said through his teeth. "Do you have any sense in your god damn head?" He demanded, planting his hands firmly on the roof of the Beetle and allowing his whole body to block the window. "You should have left for Edinburgh hours ago!"
Harry stared at Thomas, surprised. "Hello Thomas. Nice to see you. You don't call much these days. How is Justine?" he deadpanned.
"This isn't funny Harry!" Thomas pressed.
"I know. You haven't talked to me in months." Since the skin walker, Harry added to himself. "You wouldn't be here unless it was life or death right now," the wizard noted, now making sense of Thomas's odd posture over the window of the car. His brother was shielding him and using his own body to do it.
"Is this about the hunters?" Harry asked after a moment.
Thomas's jaw hardened. "The Winchesters have come to Chicago for you, Harry!"
Harry wasn't sure how his brother did it, but the statement alone was laced with both raging fury and pure fear.
"Thomas, let me out of my car," he said after a minute.
"You should go to Edinburgh. They can't get you there." Thomas pressed. "They were here less than an hour ago, trying to break in!"
Harry's tone became more forceful. "Thomas, let me out."
The vampire stared at him for a moment more, frustrated. He then drew back with a growl and allowed the wizard to unfold his lanky frame from the Beetle's interior and out into the parking lot. He scanned the area, paying attention to the cars driving up and down the road and the building across the street, where he had once caught a private investigator taking pictures of his apartment once before.
"They were trying to break in?" Harry asked, reaching for the back door and pulling out the files on the Carthage case. "You watched them do it?"
"When Mac called, I tried to catch up to them." Thomas explained tersely. "I couldn't find you at your office and when I called Murphy, you had already left the station. I had hoped you'd drop everything and run for the hills."
"They're just guys," Harry said, closing up his car.
"Winchesters," Thomas said, as if the name in itself was something to be revered. "Do you want to know what I know about Winchesters?"
"I hear it's a nice gun," The wizard shot back.
Thomas grabbed hold of Harry by the arm and marched them both down the steps to the apartment. There in the thin layer of snow that barely coated the cement landing were foot prints belonging to neither the vampire nor the wizard.
"They were starting to pick the locks when some guy in a trench coat stopped them. He must have known your place was warded," Thomas explained, holding up his talisman to disarm the wards. "Which is a damn shame since I was hoping your wards would kill them both."
"You really are taking this too far," Harry said, shouldering the steel security door and forcing it open. He managed with a firm bump to jar it loose from its warped frame and walk in.
Thomas locked them back up and decided to check the weapons cached in the popcorn tin next to the door. "I can't believe you," he muttered, picking up a sawed off shotgun and checking to see if it was loaded. "They are hunters Harry. They'd sooner shoot you in the head than to understand what is that you do and why you do it."
"So you're telling me if I wanted to call them out for a chat, they aren't going to care that I do what I do to help people? I thought they had issues with things that hurt people, not save them," Harry demanded. He snatched the shotgun out of his brother's hand and shoved it back into the tin. He waved his hand about the room and muttered the incantation to light the candles scattered about. A puff of flame began to smolder in the fireplace.
Thomas's expression actually darkened in the light. "If they knew I was there, they would have taken my head from my shoulders and not thought twice about it," he said coldly. "Lara is just as wound up over them and has locked down the mansion. I shouldn't even be here."
Harry peeled off his duster and hung up on a hook by the door. "I really think you're overreacting," he said, trying to stay on his feet as thirty pounds of cat shoulder him in the shins. "Murphy thinks they are here about Carthage."
"Then drop the case," Thomas ordered, watching his brother set into the alcove of his kitchen to fill the dishes for the cat and dog. "Because they probably think you are responsible for that mess."
Harry scoffed. "There is no way I could pull off a summoning ritual like that, let alone kill that many people and make a bunch more disappear in one night," he said. "There were hunters in Carthage when it all went to hell."
Thomas actually let out an exasperated laugh. "Great." He threw up his arms in defeat. "Not only do they probably think you did it, they'll want your head for probably killing one of their own."
"Yeah well," Harry muttered. "If they came to town to kill me, they are doing a piss poor job of it," he said, digging about the ice box for something to eat. He produced a can of tuna and some bread, alongside a can of coke. "I caught one of them in my office building this afternoon."
"And you let him go?" Thomas demanded.
Harry shook his head. "He vanished."
The vampire stared at him. The silence that stretched on in the wake of that statement unnerved Harry as he went about making his supper. He paused in the middle of draining the water from the tuna to glance at his brother.
"He vanished?" Thomas repeated.
"That's what I said," Harry replied.
The vampire sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Harry, you really should leave town," he said.
"I can't leave." The wizard announced. "I've got work to do. The White Council is crawling the walls trying to figure out what happened in Carthage. People are dead. Ten thousand people are dead and you expect me to walk away from that?"
Thomas dropped his hand, defeat now ghosting across his face. "Empty night!" he cursed. "Don't tell me you are going to try and prove to these guys you didn't do it."
"I didn't," Harry said, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.
The vampire sighed and focused his steel colored gaze on the fire that was steadily growing across the room, bringing warmth in its wake. "Then what would? If it can't be human could it be one of the Queens?"
"Oh hell no." Harry's face soured. "That is totally out of bounds for them."
"Then a demon?" Thomas offered.
The wizard shrugged. "Demon using a human, maybe." Harry said. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. He cast his eyes to the square bit of carpet that was the trap door to his lab. He was eventually going to go down there and pick up his research again once Thomas left.
"Bob said this was biblical." Harry said.
Thomas lifted a brow at him. "You have a bible?"
Harry cast him a dower look. As if that had to be asked of the wizard. Thomas lifted his hands up in defense.
"It would make a lot of sense." Thomas offered. "The crap that happened in Carthage sounds like it was ripped right out of Revelations."
Thanksgiving morning arrived with Molly Carpenter and about three inches of snow. Harry squinted into the morning sunlight and pulled back the door to let his young apprentice in.
Molly reached up to her toque and pulled it off, revealing the new color of the month, a deep dark bloody red that now graced the top of her head. She held in her hands a beat up black book with worn gilded pages. The front of it had embossed lettings with flaking gold print that read The Holy Bible.
"I brought you mine," she said, holding the book out to him in her mitten covered hands. "And I've come to get you."
Harry frowned at her. "For what?" he asked. A lot of people were insisting they came to get him or take him away these days. After seeing his brother's rapt concern for his wellbeing last night, Harry had woken up this morning wondering if he shouldn't just pack up some of the stuff in his lab, grab Molly (as her teacher in all things magic, it was safe to assume she could also be a target of the hunters as well), and head to Edinburgh for a long vacation.
"I came to invite you to dinner," Molly said. "Mom made plenty and Dad and I thought you could use a break. We've…been worried about you…since you got back."
Harry looked down at the book in his hands. He had put all of Molly's lessons on hold since being rushed out to Carthage. Upon his return he had made it clear that he needed time to work on his case and planned to actually keep Molly far away from this disturbing event.
But that didn't mean Molly hadn't been able to watch the news and figure out for herself what her teacher had gotten himself into. Michael too.
"Please, Harry," Molly said. "Dad's waiting outside in the truck."
Harry sighed after a minute and nodded. "Alright. Let me…give this to Bob and put on a better shirt." The wizard announced. Molly's eyes brightened and she started for the door. As she did, Harry grabbed the back of her coat.
"Tell your dad not to wait for me. The two of you go home." Harry ordered. "I'll be along. Promise."
Molly stared at him, surprise. "Uh…sure."
Harry let go and watched as Molly slipped outside into the glaring white morning. Michael Carpenter's truck loomed just above the horizon and blended in very well with the snow. As his apprentice climbed into the passenger seat of the behemoth, he could see Michael lift a hand from the wheel in a gesture of hello.
Harry mimicked the motion. But as he did, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread come over him. He had been too busy in this investigation to care that two, maybe three, guys who had it out for the otherworldly might have come to town to kill him…and that his apprentice might be caught in the crossfire. Hell, maybe even Michael and the rest of his family as well.
It had happened before.
"Chinese food, the staple of a Winchester Thanksgiving," Sam muttered.
Dean glanced up at him from a carton of lo mein. "I drove through a blizzard to get you egg drop soup. Shut up."
"Dean, you should not lie to your brother," Castiel said, poking at a piece of sweet and sour chicken with a chopstick. Sam had yet to figure out how much longer Dean was going to insist the angel use the wooden dining utensils since it was clear the only reason he had not been handed a fork yet was for the other hunter's amusement. "There has been no blizzard since before dawn and you did not retrieve this meal. I did, at your request."
Sam turned to his brother, brows raised and a smile starting to spread across his face. "Thank you, Cas." He then fished around a plastic bag and produced a fork. "Here, use this instead."
Castiel took the offered fork and set his chopsticks down. "Thank you."
Dean pouted at Sam for running his fun and proceeded to continue eating, in his mind, the delightful feast spread before them.
There was little else to do besides sit around the motel room and keep themselves entertained, since all of Chicago was shut down for the holiday. Sam had spent the whole morning rutting about the Chicago Public Library's digital records and dozens of archives from the local papers. Dean had made himself useful and cleaned every gun in the Impala, sharpened the knives, and made fresh holy water while watching the Macy's Day Parade and explaining to Castiel the importance of the event.
It was odd to have the angel stay with them for so long. Dean was insistent that Castiel remained with them while he finished recuperating from his brothers. This morning the bandage on the side of the angel's neck could finally be removed along with the tape around his ribs. There was now hardly any evidence that he had even been wounded only a few days ago. Somewhere in all of that, Dean had managed to convince the angel he needed to part take in more human rituals to keep up his strength and had successfully taught him in the finer points of first aid.
Sam sighed and looked down at his lunch. He had gotten tired at staring at the computer and had gone for a walk. When he came back, Dean and Castiel had procured a fine selection of Chinese food from the motel's restaurant listing.
"What have you discerned from your research, Sam?" Castiel asked around a mouthful of food. Sam made a note to let the angel know talking with one's mouth full was something Dean did and not Hosts of Heaven.
The younger brother moved his pie tin of sesame chicken aside and picked up a stack of notes that had been left haphazardly on his bed. "That we completely suck at reading newspapers," he announced and dropped a stack about an inch and half thick between him and Dean.
"How so?" Dean asked, confused.
Sam held up the first print out from the top of the pile. "This is an article from The Midwestern Arcane," he said. "Read it."
Dean took it and rocked back onto the back legs of his chair. He braced himself against the baseball themed partition that divided the kitchenette from their beds and proceeded to read and chew on an eggroll. Sam watched as Dean read, his expression nonchalant as the other hunter's rhythmic chewing began to slow and come to a stop about half way through the page.
The front legs of Dean's chair hit the floor again with a crack. "This is a werewolf attack," he said around a mouthful of food.
"Yeah. From 2001," Sam added. He snatched the paper out of Dean's hand and handed it to Castiel. While the angel read for himself, Sam shoved another one at his brother. "This is an account from a medical examiner about a fire in 2002. He testified, in court, that the bodies they recovered were not completely human."
"Vampires," Dean mused.
"And this…," Sam held up another article, "is about a couple of guys who were arrested for breaking into the nursery of Cook County hospital." He started to hand it to Dean when he instead offered it to Castiel. "Read the highlighted bit, Cas."
The angel took a moment to find the section Sam indicated. "According to this, 'An eyewitness account described one of the men as wearing a white cloak with a red cross and carrying a five foot long board sword.'."
"Amoracchius was a broad sword. And white cloaks with crosses are a sign of Templar Knights," Dean spoke up, hold out his hand for the paper. "What the hell was going on in Cook County?"
Sam leafed through his stack and held up a folder with some of the printouts in it. "This." He slapped it down in the middle of the table. "Apparently there was a string of infant deaths in the nursery over the last hundred or so years. It began around the time of an Agatha Haggletorn's murder suicide. According to a police report at the time of her death, she killed her abusive husband after she suffocated their child," the younger hunter explained. "After the night the wizard and a Michael Carpenter were arrested, the mortality rate in the nursery dropped like a rock."
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. "This guy is doing our job."
"Looks like," Sam nodded in agreement. He shifted through the stack and produced another document. "This was two years later. A Japanese man was found tortured and killed in O'Hare International Airport. Get this, his body was found in the chapel, body drained of its blood. Police say that the walls were covered in 'satanic runes'. The body was identified through dental records as Shiro Yoshimo. Dresden was a prime suspect in the case until an anonymous tip turned it into a terrorist investigation. The police think the murders of several foreigners, including Yoshimo, was the work of a terrorist cell."
Castiel lowered his head somberly. "The significance of his death and the manner in which it occurred must mean he was one of the Knights."
"Killed in a chapel," Dean muttered with a shake of his head. "I'll try not to see the irony in that." He looked up at Sam. "Is there anything else?"
Sam sat back in his chair and stared down at the pile of paper. "Yeah. But nothing to do with the swords," he replied. "The rest of it is all…unruly ghosts, stray witches and wizards, vampire attacks, strange weather patterns, reports of zombies…"
The other hunter perked up. "Zombies?"
"Zombies," Sam nodded.
Dean closed his eyes in exasperation. "Wow. This city is messed up," he muttered. "And Dresden's been in the middle of all of it, doing our job."
"Looks like." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe that is why no one's come to town to punch his ticket yet." He looked up at Dean and Castiel, looking between them both. "I also did my homework on the Nevernever."
Castiel's jaw tightened in annoyance. "I will not take either of you with me to confront the Queens in return for the amulet."
"Tough shit," Dean snapped. He looked over at Sam. "Whatcha got?"
"There are ways for mortals to cross the veil." Sam explained. "Literal Ways. But it takes someone with some considerable skill and power to pierce the veil."
The older hunter pointed a finger at Castiel. The angel actually glared in return.
"Or a wizard," Sam added. He didn't doubt for a second the look Castiel fired his way was suppose to turn him into a salt pillar where he sat.
"The wizard?" Dean's brow knitted together. "Aw come on Sam! We're gonna ask him to help us with that mess too? We've already botched meeting him on even ground."
Sam sighed, sifting through the wreckage that was now lunch, notes, and printouts for a crumpled yellow pages ad. "Maybe we should just call the guy and come right out with it."
"That's a brilliant plan," was the sarcastic reply.
"Then what do you suggest Dean? We stroll up to his house, kick in the door, point a gun to his head and say please?" he challenged. "Oh and while we're at it, rob him of the swords?"
Castiel looked up. "As I have said before, attempting to break into the wizard's home is unwise."
"Yeah because his house is wired to blow if someone messes with the front door." Dean waved a hand at him. "We got it the first time."
The room fell into an uneasily silence, which was only disturbed by the sounds of the television droning on in the background. The dull roar of a football game had been their background music through the conversation, but as the silence stretched on the game came to a halt and the sounds of trumpets and drums belong to a news channel followed in its wake. Castiel turned his attention quickly to that, since he was sitting facing the box at their small table. Both brothers in turn pulled themselves out of their musings just as the reporter faded in.
"Many people are still grieving for the loss of life in the city of Carthage, Missouri, today. Federal investigators have raised the death toll to a staggering 11,369 lives as of this morning, with thousands more still missing. Homeland Security has made their first official announcement today concerning the disaster, confirming the possibility of this being a terrorist act after the careful investigation of a bombing that took place at a local hardware store…"
The silence that had overtaken the motel room was suddenly disturbed by the sound of Dean's chair skidding back across the floor and the furious rutting about to recover his coat.
Sam was snapped out of his reverie just as Dean stormed for the door.
"Dean!" He called, getting up. "Dean, wait!"
The older hunter stepped out into the cold afternoon and slammed the door in his wake.
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