Changes – spn fic – chapter 1.
Disclaimed? Why must you keep reminding me that I don't own them?
Loved? It'll have to be enough.
Oh my GOD ... this is... huh... ahhh! He sat back on his heels, his arms outstretched, a beatific grin on his face while blood ran down his naked arms. The blade in his hand waggled in front of the face before him with its wide terrified eyes. Somewhere in the back of his brain Alastair's voice rang, many of the very words he'd resisted for thirty years were now coming through his mouth, but he didn't mind. It wasn't the first time after all.
"Beg! And you can be done." His hand with the blade came down again and blood arced against the wall, "All you have to do is beg and you can be done with all this ... nastiness..." he leaned forward, his mouth close to the man's ear while the blade slid to a rest on his low abdomen just above his root, "Just once." He looked into the man's eyes, "just between you and me. Come on..." he smirked, the tip of the blade penetrating the low belly just by a millimeter.
Again the man shook his head, droplets of sweat and blood flying off in all directions.
The body of Dean Winchester leaned forward, one hand twined in the man's hair, at the front of his scalp while pushing his head down hard. He leaned forward, his lips close to the man's ear, "Come on, just once... one quick little, 'pleeeeeaaasseee'?" He shook his head along with the man tied spread eagle on the wooden table, "No?" he sighed leaning forward to rub his body's cheek against the man's. The thing inside the hunter laughed as the human in its control squirmed and jerked his head away, a look of intense distaste on his face, "I give you hope. One little plea, one little, 'please not me!' it's not too much to ask." he grinned snaking his tongue out over the man's cheek and across his mouth, "I am the last person you will ever talk to. I'm the last chance you will ever have." He smiled pulling his victim's head to the side, his teeth closing on his ear-lobe. A jerk of his head had half the bit of flesh in his mouth as the man beneath him screamed and finally gave in to the whimper inside.
"Beg me... just once please?" He smiled before kissing the man's lips then leaned back, "Typical." He shook his head, "Hypocrite."
"Phhuh ooo!" the naked man on the table ground around the gag in his mouth.
It leaned forward smiling into the man's eyes, "You're not my flavor. This one prefers females of the species. But you, you'd like to. I tasted it in your nature. Men, boys... I know what you like." He sighed and straightened up just a bit sliding that keen point up his captive's fluttering belly, over his breastbone until it came to rest at the divot of his throat, "And now you know what I like... just one little word," he stood the blade on its point letting the weight slowly increase. But still the man shook his head.
"Okay then. Looks like I go home disappointed." Dean's mouth smirked as his hand pressed the blade slowly into the man's throat just below the adam's apple. He sat for a moment listening to the gurgles, the air hissing, the choked cries that seemed to squeal out around the steel then got up and made his way to the door that led down into the basement.
Heavy booted feet moved down the springy plank board stairs. At the bottom of them, on the wall was a switch.
It was interested in the dark places that humans lived with, and its new host seemed to know an awful lot about all different kinds of them.
Metal clinked somewhere off to the left.
Straight ahead was a workbench. It knew the tools on it because its host knew them. Tin snips, pruning shears, steel link chain, bolt cutters, wrenches, blow torch, solder. He moved slowly very curious about some of the feelings that the sight of some of these implements brought to his new home. Some of these things made his belly flutter and flip at the same time they made his throat dry and made him want the sharp burn and sting of whiskey. His hand picked up the bolt cutters and turned to the left, his eyes falling on a dirty flesh colored blob that he realized was a human child curled in a ball. Its arms were stretched up over head, bound by chains and for a long moment he kept his head down, plaintive whimpers cutting into the air turning to startled yips at the sound of the bolt cutters moving through the metal that held him prisoner.
His hosts' tummy did strange squirrelly things as the filthy and badly beaten naked child looked into his eyes as if he was looking at an angel. Amazement, uncertainty, hope and distrust fought for purchase on the boy's face as the host cut the cuffs apart.
"When they come, you tell them you didn't look at me, is that clear?" his human voice asked softly while his hand felt compelled to slide down the boys' disbelieving face.
The child nodded and skittered across the room to a small mountain of clothes.
He looked around the room at three other stations exactly like this one, one of them occupied by a long dead child then returned to the upper level of the house. Just before the dining room where the man lay still on the table, his eyes fell to a phone.
Taking the handset from the cradle the host dialed 911 and placed the handset up on the top shelf of a curio cabinet.
"Are you dead yet?" he whispered leaning in. A quick dilation of the man's pupil and a faint gasping move of the throat told him almost, but not quite. "Good." He smiled pulling the blade from the man's throat, then sweeping it deeply across it all the way down to the vertebrae. A quick shift and the blade sank into the man's chest. With a forceful sweep he sliced open the body cavity then quickly severed the man's aorta. He wanted no chance for this human to live.
Sliding quickly back into his jacket he cleaned his blade on the man's jeans, tucked it away and headed out the back door, removing the latex gloves once he was outside. He took a moment to peer into the kitchen door and note the child standing, staring at the eviscerated man and crying. Not too far away the sound of a siren cut the night as he crossed through several back yards, clinging to shadows until it reached the Impala parked far enough away so neither he nor it would be seen as the police approached.
Once in the car he reached down onto the passenger floor and picked up the portion of folded newspaper. The mugshot of the dead man he'd left behind shown above a headline that read, "Convicted Serial Child Killer Released After Successful Rehabilitation."
"Successful rehabilitation my ass." It let the host snarl before the body crumpled the page of newspaper and tossed it into the back seat then reached down for another.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked glancing at the pale and nearly unconscious woman beside him.
"Mm," she croaked breathing shakily and trying not to cry.
"You really should get to a hospital," Spencer suggested from the back seat as the youngest Winchester maneuvered Laura's car deftly over still nearly empty streets back toward the Red Roof Inn.
She reached across, dropping her hand onto Sam's arm her voice nearly inaudible but her distress palpable, "I can't feel him."
"Why would it take him instead of me? I thought you guys said it had already kinda chosen me." The young FBI agent asked.
"Spencer give me your room key," Sam ordered sliding the car up to the front door and tossing it into park while receiving the plastic card. "Park the car and get inside." He commanded moving quickly around to the slowly opening passenger door, "Watch your head," he told her as he crouched down and drew her from the seat.
"I'm faster." He assured her keeping her cradled in his arms as he pushed through the doors. "A little too much fun," he plastered an embarrassed smile on and moved quickly down the hall toward the room they'd procured the previous night. "What the hell were you thinking going out and trying to walk on the freakin' highway instead of having the sidhe move you through the veil!" he growled edging them into the room and gently situating her on the bed.
She shook her head, "they got me as close as they could but the seal... Sam what happened?" she asked only knowing that she awoke from a draught induced sleep feeling as if part of her very soul had been cut off.
The youngest Winchester crouched down and looked into her eyes, "It chose him instead. For some reason it chose Dean instead of Spencer and if we don't get to him, and get that thing out of him it's going to become part of him and it will probably drive him to his death."
She shook her head trying to hold back the tears as Spencer entered the room and made sure to lock the door behind himself.
Sam pulled his phone and dialed from memory then pointed first at Spencer, "You need to leave Dr. Reid. The sooner you're away from here the sooner we can do what we need to..." On the other end of the line he didn't think he'd ever been so glad to hear a friendly voice. "I need a babysitter."
"Sam?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah. Look we got a big problem, you gotta get on the horn to everyone we know and get them to keep a look out for big brother, but no one's to touch him. I just need to know where to find him."
"So put a trace on his cell."
"It's in my hand. He left it at the site." Sam sighed giving the device an unconscious squeeze.
"What site? What's going on Sam?"
"Wraith took him." He said and listened to the phone clatter to the floor on the other end.
A second later, "You're shittin' me."
"The seal didn't stop it?"
"Son of a bitch!"
"Yeah." Sam nodded.
"Who's the baby sitter for?"
"Laura, she's in a bad way."
"Not that bad..." she groaned and swung her legs over the edge of the bed then doubled over with a piercing cry that brought Spencer to her side and found him trying to get her to settle down again.
"Look, you're not in any shape to be of help so at least don't be a hindrance." He suggested and leaned back a bit at the scathing look she shot him even though he did hold his ground.
"Who are you and why do I care?" She groaned limply while squeezing her knees up to her chest.
"Be nice!" Sam barked taking her completely by surprise, "This isn't some fraction of demon intertwined in his brain Laura it's a fucking wraith alright it'll use him for its own ends then drain him dead!"
"Easy Sam," Bobby soothed on the other end of the line while the sound of heavy brittle pages flipped in the background, "How long ago did it take him?"
"Bout an hour ago, maybe two." He shook his head.
"Alright, the good thing is you've got a couple days before it can seat itself firmly in him."
Sam turned away toward the bathroom and spoke low, "Bobby this thing was set to go after an FBI agent, it marked him at the Bell Rock vortex and instead of going after him it took Dean."
"It switched its target?"
"You think it has something to do with all that... you know... ancient stuff?" he mumbled then seemed to sigh to himself, "I thought that stuff was all over."
"I hate to burst your bubble but it's not over, it can't be over until we're dead, they're our SOULS!" he hissed through clenched teeth, "Even after we're dead we're just going to wind up other people... there's something else Bobby. Dean died. Back in Pennsylvania I killed him..."
"NO!" Bobby barked, "That BITCH killed him using your powers!"
"Point is..." Sam rolled his eyes but was more grateful than he could have imagined to hear that Bobby understood.
"Right, he flatlined a few times but they got him back Sam, it's not your fault."
The young man shook his head, "That's not what I'm... I want you to go through your books, hell go through everything you've got and I want you to find out if there's any precedence for a soul to be yanked from hell."
"He was in hell Bobby. One of those times he flatlined it was for four minutes solid up here, he said it was a full forty years in hell... he said time moves different down there and that he was told he couldn't go after Lilith until his debt to her was expunged since she held the contract on his soul."
"Whoa slow down boy... who told him that?"
"He said it was an angel named Castiel." He listened closely to the sound of their old friend as he slumped back in his creaky old desk chair and huffed hard.
"And on top of this you want me to babysit?" he finally asked.
"I know it's a lot."
"A LOT?! You don't know the half of what you're asking Sam! Forget about the wraith for a minute you're talking about a... oh man...you boys don't do anything half assed do ya?"
Sam leaned out of the bathroom, craning his head around the wall frowning as he looked between Spencer and Laura.
She looked at the young FBI agent then up at Sam as if she knew what he was thinking, "I'll behave... We can research here and keep our eyes and ears open for any signs of him."
"Wherever it goes it's going to cause chaos, probably violence and if ... he can't control it, maybe even death," his eyes turned to Spencer, "My brother is not a murderer."
The young man nodded tightly, his understanding written plainly over his face, "Then you'd better find him before he becomes one."
"Spencer, do you have any way to remote access police calls as they come in?" Laura asked.
With a faint smile the young man nodded, "You figure a seventy five mile radius should be enough?"
"S'a good start, insinuating itself into him will have weakened it a lot. It'll drive him to feed it."
"So we're going to find more mummified remains?" Spencer asked.
"If that's all, that's a good sign." Sam nodded.
Slowly the agent opened his cell and dialed.
"Spencer!" Garcia's voice smiled, "do you have any idea what time it is where you are? It's like four a.m. What's up sweetie?"
"Uh... actually it's about 5:15... can you do me a favor and kinda keep it on the q.t. Garcia?"
"Oooh anything for you my cloak and dagger darling. What do you need?"
He quickly gave her the address of the hotel, "I need you to tap into 911 calls within a 75 mile radius and notify me if you get anything that sounds like a purely chaotic endeavor."
"What kind of Chaotic?"
"Chaotic evil kind... or I guess neutral too."
"Okay so mischief most likely property, most likely malicious and possibly people oriented?" She clarified.
"Yeah, that about covers it." He closed his eyes and bit his lip listening to the comforting sound of her fingers flying over computer keys.
"Anything else you can give me my gentle genius?"
"No, not really."
"Hey is this about that vortex? You would not believe the amount of people who wind up having violent altercations after vacationing in that area. How are you? You're not feeling suddenly homicidal are you?"
At this he actually laughed, "No Garcia, I'm not suddenly feeling homicidal... but I am curious... there were some people down there last night and it sounded like there might have been a scuffle."
"OOooOOOh and you think they might have gone off on a malicious mischief spree?" She surmised.
"It sounded like it... I'd just like to be sure I'm wrong is all."
"Spencer, sweetie you are young, somewhat sheltered, more brilliant than the hope diamond, and very rarely wrong."
"Well let's hope I am this time. Can you send any flags to my cell?"
"Done and done my dear and now I must away to work... some of us aren't lucky enough to have scored a four day weekend!"
"I got six staples in my head how is that lucky?" He asked.
"Oooh is that all it takes? I have a stapler in my office... meh not worth it. Take care of that precious head of yours."
"I will." He smiled.
"Ciao ducky if you need me you know where to ring."
"Thanks Garcia." He smiled shaking his head and nodded to Sam and Laura. "Okay, so now we'll..." his phone pinged.
"Already? What is it?" Sam asked, holding open the phone as he approached.
Spencer shook his head, "An anonymous 911 call...15 minutes ago..." he pressed the phone to his ear, "they found a child in with the body... vic was eviscerated, a dead child manacled in the basement of the home, a pile of children's clothes, sounds like the surviving boy was held prisoner and abused, there's evidence he was beaten and possibly sexually abused, they found a binder full of pictures of kids, looks like it goes back years." He reached to the night table and copied down the address easily reading something in each of their faces. They believe he did this... if he did it could indicate an identification with the victim, so he's probably be abused himself, then flipped the phone closed and looked at Sam, "Would a wraith care about the kind of person it was going to kill?" he asked.
He watched Laura and Sam share a look, "I'll call you back later." Sam said into the phone and closed it catching the car keys the agent tossed to him, "You've got everything you need?" He asked Laura.
She motioned to Spencer, "Human repository of nearly infinite knowledge?" then patted the laptop, "The internet...close enough," she nodded, "Call me as soon as you know something."
"I will." He nodded leaning in and kissing her temple, "Be nice." He warned gently.
"I love brains... why do you think I love you two so much?" she smiled weakly as he left the two alone grateful that Spencer hadn't left when he'd told him to.
"So..." the young agent smiled and steepled his fingers neatly, "would one?"
She eased herself back onto the bed and swung the laptop onto her lap then patted the mattress. "There's more than you understand... and a lot more to it than you think." She sighed, "Wraiths," and shook her head wading through a plethora of Stargate Atlantis sites, merchandise, and conventions, "The show got a lot of it right... you're familiar with it I take it?" she asked.
He shook his head in a futile attempt to deny it then nodded, "I'm familiar with it."
"They feed on life energy," her eyes skimmed his length taking in his build and weighing it against the energy of his intellect, "yours is centered in your intellect..."
"What about your husband?"
"I love him..." she sighed as her eyes filled, "He's so much more than he lets anyone give him credit for...but..." she shook her head.
"There's still more? From what Dave explained to me once they choose someone to latch onto it's almost impossible to stop them."
"And you're wondering if its change of course had anything to do with Imdugud or the sidhe and the fact that we know them."
"Pretty much yeah."
"It's possible." She admitted.
One of the pages she was waiting for finally loaded tearing her attention away from Spencer who, sitting beside her leaned closer also skimming the article about the Serial Child Killer who'd been supposedly successfully rehabilitated and released into society. The man who police had found eviscerated inside his modest suburban home.
"Was he ever abused?" Spencer asked, "You and Neil both think he killed this guy. Why would he specifically go after him if he wasn't?"
"Maybe for the same reason pedophiles get torn apart in prison, cause they deserve to be. And you know as well as I do that there IS no way to successfully rehabilitate one, not chemical castration, not physical castration, the fact is the only possible cure for pedophilia is time. They have to literally out-age it and sometimes they never do."
"Sounds like you've done some psych studies." He commented.
"I was a nurse before I learned to hunt."
"Really?" he asked, "I'm sorry for your loss by the way."
She frowned and shook her head.
He motioned to her belly, "The uh, hemorrhaging... you lost a baby... it was kinda hard not to tell when Imdugud brought you... Dave called it, 'through the veil'?"
A sudden spring of tears fell from her eyes as she nodded pressing her hand over her mouth, "I failed to protect my... I didn't lose it..." she turned her head, and watery though her eyes were he could almost swear he saw something glowing in their depths, a kind of something he'd never seen before and after what he'd encountered in the last 24 hours, that really was saying something, "I failed it..." and Dean.
Hesitantly the young man touched her forearm, "When you get him back, you guys should talk. He's kinda furious with himself... he blames himself both for the loss and for what happened to you. By the way, just out of curiosity... where's the stalker and how did you get away?" he asked then noting her expression shook his head, "I get a feeling no one would believe me even if you tell me the truth."
"She uh..." Laura huffed a tiny chuckle and dabbed her eyes dry, "I crushed her and left her for the local wildlife."
The last thing on earth that he would have expected was a wholly unguarded truth, from any of them. So far he'd been running on instinct ever since 'Dave and Neil' showed up in his hospital room and there wasn't a single second he'd trade for anything at this point. But at the moment he was having a lot of difficulty reconciling the FBI agent and the seeker of truths that was his nature.
"In your condition?" he asked.
Slowly she turned her gaze to him, "She was a potential threat to them. They are MINE. It's my job to keep them safe." She turned and looked at him pointedly, "Do you really want to help Dr. Reid?"
With a hint of nervousness in his features he pursed his lips, "Wwwwwhat did you have in mind?"
Slowly, the emissary smiled.
Thanks. Very much.