Chapter Text
Grand Marais, MN
Mangy Moose Motel
I was always the sort of big brother who knew exactly what my little brother was capable of. That is why I had no qualms with sending Leo ahead of me while I wrapped up the last few loose ends a town or two away from the motel. But sometimes loose ends become too frayed to wrap up easily and it took me far longer than I’d hoped to follow my brother. After two weeks separated, I finally found myself in Grand Marais, pulling into the rough stone drive of the Mangy Moose Motel. I parked the dingy car I’d rented in front of the main building and sighed heavily. The parking lot was deserted but for a couple cars. The vacancy sign was lit with the V and A both burnt out. I didn’t see our car but the design of the building meant there were more rooms along the backside of the building as well. It was a typical scene for me, home often found in run down motels like this one, and I walked into the lobby as if it were as such. The tired and near ancient attendant lifted his gaze from a half solved sudoku puzzle when the bell above the door alerted him to my arrival.
“Good evening, sir. I’m… looking for my brother. He’s supposed to be staying here so I could meet up with him.” I said simply, knowing my creole accent seemed greatly out of place in a Minnesota town.
“By that accent, I think I know who you're talking about. Not many come through here with accents like that. But, in the spirit of confidentiality, what’s his name?” The attendant asked, looking down at the handwritten check in, check out book.
“Leo Grey. He’d have checked in two weeks ago.” I replied, smiling my usual charming smile that tended to get me whatever it was I wanted.
“Yeah. He’s booked in room 213. Haven’t seen him in a couple days, though. The do not disturb sign has been on his door and he hasn’t been in for the paper since Monday.” He replied, shrugging and reaching for another key for the room. My heart dropped and the blood drained from my face. It was Thursday and Leo hadn’t been seen since Monday? That wasn’t like Leo at all. Even with nothing to do, he’d be out and about.
“You’re sure it’s been that long?” I asked urgently, my heart racing in my ears.
“Yes, sir. He’s a nice boy. Thought it was weird that he’d stopped coming in for the daily newspaper, but I figured he’d found something better to do than chat with an old man at five in the morning.” The attendant replied with a frown, handing me the key with the ragged leather keychain depicting a moose and the room number on it below the motel name. I swallowed hard, feeling frozen in place.
“I see… well… Thank you. If you see him again, please let me know. Here, let me give you my number.” I said, digging an old receipt from my pocket and swiping the pen from the desk.
“O’course, kid. I’ll keep my peepers peeled. Hope you find him. If you need to make flyers, I can print ’em here. I work the night shifts 9pm to 5am most nights. Name’s Dan.” he told me, holding his hand out to me. I took it, shaking it firmly as I somehow managed a half hearted smile.
“Jadiel. Thanks again, Dan. My brother is the only family I have left.” I replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. Inside, my worry had my heart in my throat, but I kept my composure on the outside. I didn’t want to let on just how panicked I truly felt.
“I’ll pray for him, kid. The almighty will return him to his flock.” Dan said, smiling kindly. I knew it was meant to be reassuring, a devout man’s greatest form of support. So I bit back the curt sure he will that I wanted to say and nodded.
“Thank you. Have a good rest of your night.” I told him and slipped out the door, gasping in panicked mouthfuls of fresh night air. I couldn’t let the panic choke me. I needed to be the pillar I was supposed to be for my brother and find him. But my vision swam, my lungs cramped, and I fumbled the pilfered xanax from my pocket. Dry swallowing three of the chalky white pills, I struggled to keep myself stable. The rumble of an engine pulled up in front of me and cut off, but I was still spiraling too much to give a damn.
“Hey, man. You alright?” A voice followed the creak of a car door opening. I sucked in a desperate breath, my heartbeat still throbbing in my ears, before finally raising my eyes away from the weed choked cracks in the pavement. My vision still wobbled a bit, the world still seeming a little bit unreal, but I could focus enough to see two men climbing out of a classic Impala.
“Yeah… I’m just… fabulous.” I lied, cringing internally at the shake in my voice as they approached me.
“Well with the way you popped those pills like an opioid addict in withdrawal, I don’t believe that.” The shorter of the two said, stopping and leaning against the hood of the car. He was the picture of nonchalance rolled up in a no-nonsense attitude.
“It’s called sarcasm, man. Why do you care?” I asked sharply and winced internally. Anger was my immediate defense mechanism and I had promised my therapist I’d work on it. But that was three states and four years passed and I still hadn’t gotten around to working on it. It might very well be something I never work on, but I could at least pretend it was on the docket and not a lie.
“Forgive my brother, he has the emotional maturity of a constipated porcupine. What he meant to say is: we might be able to help because it’s more than obvious something is wrong.” The taller man said, smiling gently as he approached me, unlike his brother still half lounging against their car.
“I think my brother might be missing. But I don’t know yet. He’s all I got left and the thought of him being gone pushed me into a panic attack. I usually manage it pretty well.” I muttered, looking up into kind hazel eyes. He was tall - taller than my brother by at least a couple inches - with fluffy mahogany brown hair. He was also pinning me with the most obvious good-ole-boy, puppy-dog-eyes look that was supposed to make me trust him enough to spill my guts. If he thought it would work he had another thing coming.
“Well when was the last time you saw your brother? Is he known for being flighty?” He asked me and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“We’ve been separated for two weeks but the last I heard from him was Saturday. Dan, the attendant, says he’s not seen him since Monday. I was just about to check if the car is here and see if there’s anything in the room. Leo isn’t flighty and he doesn’t hole up in the room without a reason. He’d be out and about, getting the paper every morning. Not that it’s any of your business.” I told him sharply.
“Listen, kid. There has been a string of murders in town. We’re just trying to rule out your brother being the John Doe currently sitting in the morgue.” The shorter man replied just as sharply, earning a warning look from the taller man.
“Morgue? How was he killed? Wait… are you two cops?” I asked, trying to think around the sharp cold thing writhing in my guts at the thought of Leo being already dead . Oh, there was that familiar anxiety again.
“Slow down, breathe. Dean, a little discretion please.” The taller man said, reaching out to pat my shoulder. I dodged back away from the contact out of habit and earned myself a weird look.
“Just answer me. I don’t have all night.” I demanded, anxiety and annoyance tainting my tone.
“We’re FBI. I’m Agent Page and this is Agent Plant.” The taller man - Agent Page - replied, pulling a badge from his pocket and flipping it open for me to look at. Dean - or Agent Plant - followed his lead, producing a badge of his own, “The John Doe’s was a young man, early thirties, with brown hair and hazel eyes. Does that sound like your brother?”
“Thought you were brothers.” I asked, finally finding something to help me keep focus: The mounting lies the more they spoke, “Those badges are fake and usually brothers have the same last name, unless you’re half brothers or you took your spouse’s name. Neither of you are wearing wedding rings, so that’s not the story either. Don’t play me for a fool. My real brother is actually missing. I don’t have time for cosplayers playing a game.” I turned and started walking away, already on to looking for my brother’s room when a hand caught my wrist.
“Wait. Please. You’re right. We’re not actually FBI. But we are here to help.” ‘Agent’ Page plied quickly. I whipped around, jerking free of his grasp and taking several steps back as an involuntary shudder rolled down my spine.
“Don’t touch me.” I growled, rubbing my arm where his hand had been and regretting not wearing my hoodie. My skin was still crawling with the aftershocks of the contact, but at least I knew he wasn’t lying to me about that much at least.
“I’m sorry. But please wait. This is what we do. We solve murders that the local authorities don’t even begin to understand.” He said lowly, holding his hands up as if to say he was harmless.
“Fine. John Doe isn’t my brother. He’s blonde and blue eyed. I answered your questions. I need to go check the room and see if our car is here. I don’t know if he’s… dead. He could very well be one of the victims. But if any one could find him, dead or alive, it’s me. Good luck with your investigation. I have my own job to do. Taking care of my brother.” I told him, waiting for the go ahead this time in hopes of avoiding more physical contact.
“Come on, Sam. This guy doesn’t want our help.” Dean said, pushing off of the car and walking around us toward the lobby.
“Just get us a room. I’m going to go with him to check out his brother’s room.” Sam replied, catching his brother’s eyes when he turned to argue, and I got the feeling the two were having a moment of wordless communication that came from working with the same man for far too long.
“Fine. But you call me if it’s something we deal with.” Dean said, all macho huffiness as he left us to duck into the building.
“I don’t need your help.” I muttered, my own deep seated distrust of anyone who wasn’t my brother spurring me to walk away without waiting for him to follow. But, nevertheless, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps following me.
I slipped through the covered walkway to the back side of the building where the rest of the rooms could be found and felt a bolt of relief cut through the cold panic. Our forest green ‘68 Ford Mustang sat in the numbered parking spot outside of room 213. It was short lived as I realized it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If the car was still here, where was Leo? I ignored the growing trepidation and peered into the windows. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary just looking in. None of the secret panels were noticeable unless you knew where they were and there was no sign of Leo’s duffle bag. I bent and fumbled the spare key from where it was hidden in the driver side wheel well. As I unlocked the driver door I looked up to find Sam watching me from the sidewalk. I continued to ignore him as I checked every compartment inside and out, taking inventory of what was missing. Which turned out to be nothing. Every weapon and tool was in its place. Sure, we both carried weapons on us and in our duffles but if something had been after him, why hadn’t he armed himself better? It didn’t rule out a surprise attack, but even as laid back as Leo was, he wasn’t a walking victim. You didn’t live the kind of lives we did recklessly. Simply because you wouldn’t live long if you were reckless. I looked up again and was startled to find the sidewalk empty. With a shrug, I locked the car back up and tucked the spare key into my pocket to try and swap it for the room key. But there was no key in my pocket.
“Hey, kid! Come look at this.” Sam’s voice called, and I realized the bastard had picked the room key from my pocket at some point when Sam appeared in the doorway of the room my brother was supposed to be in.
“I said I didn’t need your help, Sam. Stealing the room key doesn’t exactly instill my trust in you.” I said, but hurried toward the room with my heart in my throat.
“I know how to deal with willfully stubborn men.” Sam replied, stepping back out of the way as I pushed past him into the room.
My steps stuttered as soon as my eyes took in the utter chaos and disarray of the room. The old box TV lay smashed on its face, the table it had been on was nothing more than splinters. One of the mattresses sat askew on its frame, shredded and splattered with rusty brown dried blood. Leo’s favorite pistol lay in a pool of blood on the floor, the barrel bent impossibly. The whole room had the over metallic and rotten stench of too much blood left to sit for far too long. I swallowed hard, pushing into the room to further survey the damage. There were half burned shreds of paper all throughout the room that I quickly came to realize were pieces of my brother’s journal as I picked up a piece and recognized his looping handwriting. None of the words meant anything to me, so I let the scrap flutter back to the floor. I was distantly aware of Sam picking his way through the minefield of paper, glass, and wood to check the tiny bathroom. I knew my brother wasn’t here. No one had been here in days, I could feel it. Everything had gone numb and ringing and I distantly knew I was going into shock. I felt my knees give way and I collapsed, pain ricocheting throughout my bad knee as I landed on some unnameable piece of debris. I’d failed him, I had no idea how to make it right, how to find him, or if he was even still alive. Had my baby brother been here dying while I cleaned up my own foolish mess?
“- kid. Hey, kid! Come on!” I belatedly heard a deep voice shouting, hands on my arms, shaking me. I blinked slowly, colors still swirling indecisively in my vision. A hand suddenly cracked across my face, the sharp pain wrenching me violently from whatever la-la-land I had drifted off to. Reality turned out to be Dean’s face and I tried to figure out why he was suddenly there, “That’s it. Come back.”
“He’s gone. They’ve taken him. I should’ve… I should’ve been here!” I snarled, jerking back and trying to scramble to my feet. But the world tipped again anyway, my legs still far too shaky to hold my weight. I expected an impact with the floor but instead arms caught me around my middle and hauled me back up onto my feet, holding me steady.
“You need to calm down, man. You’re in no shape to find him like this.” Sam’s smooth voice murmured, closer to my ear than comfort, but there really was no other way to entirely support my weight without a lot of close contact, “You never told me your name. Let’s start with that.” Sam continued, his grip tightened around my waist and I realized I was trembling.
“Jadiel Ang - Grey. Jadiel Grey.” I mumbled, having the state of mind to remember the alias I was supposed to be using.
“Ha-dee-el. That’s a mouthful.” Dean muttered, enunciating each syllable, but I did not have energy for banter right now.
“My friends call me Deal if that’s easier for you.” I shot back without thinking, so apparently I did have the energy, “I think I can stand on my own now, Sam.” I added, glad his grasp on me was separated from my skin by our clothing. The feedback of skin to skin contact would have only worsened my shock. He nodded and loosened his arms around my waist, but put a hand on my shoulder to make sure I was completely steady.
“Jadiel, let us help you find your brother. We aren’t really FBI, you were right. But this is our job. We’re… hunters. We find and kill monsters. That’s why we’re in town now. There has been a series of murders here where victims are found with their hearts ripped out. Your brother’s disappearance might be linked. This is a very run-of-the-mill werewolf case.” Sam said, clearly gearing up for disbelief. I laughed. A sharp peel of sarcastic and hysterical laughter.
“You’re hunters . Of course you are.” I muttered, running a hand through my short hair and taking several steps back away from both men in the room, “You’re not gonna wanna help me or my brother.” My eyes swept the room in search of an escape route. I had backed up between the two beds in my hurry to get away from the brothers and it left me with few options. They stood between me and the door unless I was willing to throw myself across the bed and risk getting shot. But if I was going down, I was going down swinging. The gun in the back of my pants was in my hand before I even made the conscious decision to draw it.
“Hey, hey! Wait, Jadiel! We’re not gonna hurt you. Calm down.” Sam said, hands in the air in the universal I-mean-you-no-harm gesture, the total opposite to his brother with his own gun aimed at me. I swung my aim toward Dean, keeping an eye on the both of them regardless.
“Leo and I have had to run all our lives because of hunters like you. We’ve never done anything wrong. We’d never hurt anyone. But your kind hurt us… Why? What did we do to deserve the vitriol of both sides against us?” I asked stumbling back a step when Sam steps forward, twitching the barrel of my gun minutely toward him. But he wasn’t the armed one and I couldn’t afford to take my aim off of Dean.
“Both sides? Jadiel, we don’t even know who or what you are. I wanted - want - to help you. If you’ve never hurt anyone, we have no reason to kill you.” Sam reasoned, hands still up, another step gained as I retreated the same distance, knowing I was running out of ground.
“We’d never hurt anyone. Not because we wanted to. We’ve had to hurt people to defend ourselves. You seem like a good guy, Sam, and I don’t want to hurt you. But I will if it's the only way to get out of here alive. Hunters, monsters, they’ve all come after us. Especially Leo. And I’ll do anything to protect him.” I told them, knowing my eyes probably reflected the wild panic that echoed inside me. It was too soon to take more xanax. Even for me. I just needed to keep the thread, keep the focus, until I was safely out of range and had a safe hiding spot to plan Leo’s rescue. Because I refused to believe Leo was dead. He wasn’t dead until I saw it for myself.
“I understand, Jadiel. I’d do anything - I have done everything to protect my brother. I’m not going to hurt you and Dean is going to put his gun away.” He said the last sentence pointedly and got a look from Dean.
“Like hell I am. What kinda monster are you, Jadiel?” Dean asked sharply, cocking his gun, his aim still steadily on my chest.
“I’m not a monster. I’m human, for the most part.” I told him, mimicking the threat by cocking my own gun, the click of it far more steadying than it should be. But I’d never felt more comfortable than when I had a gun in hand. To think I used to be a happy go lucky artist seemed so distant now, the last decade feeling more like a century away from the naive boy I had been. Pain and loss had made a man out of me, had led me to put away childish things. Charcoal had been traded out for gun oil and I still mourned the loss of it.
“Everyone is going to put their guns down.” Sam said firmly, putting a hand on his brother’s arm until he finally lowered it, slowly uncocking the hammer. I wasn’t stupid, I kept mine raised until he’d tucked his gun away in an inner pocket of his jacket. I lowered mine then, but I didn’t put it away. Again, not stupid.
“Just walk away, Sam. Solve your case and go home. I’ll find my brother on my own and hopefully we’ll never cross paths again.” I said, but still had no exit. I wasn’t going to risk a graceless flop over the bed if I could walk out of there normally.
“I’m not walking away, Jadiel. Like I said, our case is probably linked to your brother’s disappearance. You said the monsters are after you just as much as hunters are. Maybe the werewolf took your brother. We can work together.” Sam suggested, advancing forward again. I had run out of space to retreat, the nightstand digging into my ass as I tried anyway.
“No we can’t! Because if the werewolf hasn’t killed my brother you will.” I snarled, gun raised again, being cornered making me defensive.
“What kind of monster is your brother, Jadiel? Why do you think we’ll kill him?” Sam asked calmly, stepping so close that the barrel of my gun was pressed to the center of his chest. He was just lucky I practiced trigger safety, my finger pressed to the metal above the guard so I wouldn’t twitch and actually shoot him before I had to.
“He was dying. I did what I had to to save my brother.” I replied defensively. Evasion, my therapist would have called it. Unhealthy codependency was another term she’d used. But I’d long since stopped caring about things that didn’t help me function.
“What did you do to your brother, Jadiel?” Dean asked, voice closer resembling a disgusted growl than anything else.
“I didn’t do anything to him! I just didn’t stop it from happening!” I growled back, wincing when the light on the nightstand flared to life so fast that the surge shattered the lightbulb.
“Dean, you’re not helping.” Sam warned his brother, just barely glancing over his shoulder at him.
“He let his brother be turned into a monster, Sam. That’s not acceptable.” Dean said sharply.
“You don’t know the situation, Dean. We’ve both done morally reprehensible things to save each other too. We’re in no place to judge when we have so little information. This isn’t burning bones or ganking a ghoul, Dean. This is a person just like us.” Sam replied just as sharply.
“That’s not the same thing, Sam.” Dean protested, but it was half-hearted.
“Isn’t it?” Sam asked, putting his hands around mine on the gun. He tried to pry my fingers away from it, but I fought him. I didn’t want to shoot him, he’d been kind to me, but I couldn’t let him disarm me. Not when it could mean I wouldn’t make it out of here, “Let it go, Jadiel. I’m not going to hurt you and I won’t let Dean hurt you either. Just put it away. We’ll get your brother’s things cleaned out of this room and we’ll go over to the room Dean got for him and I. We’ll talk this through like civil adults, okay? Tell us your story. Maybe we’ll understand, Jadiel.” Sam reasoned with me, managing to wrestle the gun out of my hands and click the safety on.
“How do I know you’re not trying to get me locked into a room to use me as bait?” I asked, my natural distrust of everyone making me question his motives. It’s usually the wolf you know that rips your throat out after all.
“You don’t. I’m asking you to just trust us, trust me . We’re getting nowhere with this standoff and we’re wasting precious time.” Sam pointed out, all reason and logic, when my panic often robbed me of both. I looked at him, at his brother, weighing the pros and cons in an unstable mind before sighing, my shoulders sagging as I seemingly blew out all of my resistance on a breath.
“Fine. But I want that back. It makes my skin crawl to be unarmed.” Not that I actually was. I still had a dagger in my boot and two more elsewhere on my person, but I was never fully dressed without my pistol.
“Of course, Jadiel. I wouldn’t expect you to walk into enemy territory weaponless.” Sam assented, handing me back the gun. It was like a proverbial white flag, a temporary truce during a negotiation. It was the best I was going to get, so I accepted it, tucking the gun into the back of my pants where it belonged, the chill of cold metal eliciting goosebumps until it sucked up the warmth of my body heat.
“Thank you.” I muttered reluctantly, looking around the room now.
“Let’s get your brother’s things collected. You obviously can’t stay in this room now, anyway.” Sam said, patting my shoulder and smiling grimly. I nodded, waiting until they both backed up out of my space before I bent to pick up my brother’s damaged pistol, running my fingers over the blood splattered pearl handle.
“Don’t suppose either of you know how to fix this?” I asked, gesturing to the bent barrel, “This was our father’s.”
“We might know someone who can fix it. But it’s not something we can fix without the proper tools.” Dean muttered begrudgingly. It might have been his form of a peace offering, but I honestly just wanted to punch him in the mouth. Instead, I changed the subject.
“Doesn’t matter how long we’ve been in a place, we don’t unpack. His journal is shredded and half burned, I don’t know why or if he did it. But everything else should be in this ugly puke green duffel bag and maybe a cooler. I didn’t find that in the car. But that’s all we need to find… I think.” I instructed and pushed past them to scour the room for the bag.
Both brothers spread out and started to do the same. The carnage of the room was quite the obstacle course of busted wood and glass. It looked as if something or someone had been slammed through the rickety desk and the overstuffed chair in the corner was charred. That’s where I found the remnants of Leo’s journal, the warped and cracked leather cover all that remained of it. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It left a greasy black smear on them and I wondered why it was burned. Maybe Leo had wanted to hide its contents, or maybe his kidnappers burnt it because of its contents. I had never read his journal. Who was I to tread upon that one last barrier of privacy we had actually managed to maintain over the years? But maybe I should have.
“Found it.” Dean said suddenly, pulling the bag out from underneath the shredded bed.
“Perfect… let’s go, I guess.” I replied quietly, dropping the charred book and promising myself that I would buy him a brand new one once he was safe again. I wiped the soot off on the already ruined mattress on my way past it before I took my brother’s bag from him.
“What room are we in, Dean?” Sam asked, nudging a piece of desk out of his path with his toes.
“Room 313. It’s upstairs.” Dean answered, shrugging past me and out of the room. I sighed and rubbed at the headache blooming in the center of my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Jadiel. We’ll figure it out. But we’ll need honesty between us. Explain your situation and maybe we’ll understand. I can’t make you any promises, but I want to help you and your brother. We’ve made exceptions for monsters before. Maybe we can do the same for you.” Sam said, patting my shoulder before following his brother out of the room. I didn’t trust it, but what other choice did I have now?
*****
An hour later we were set up at the table in room 313 with a round of coffees between us and delivery on the way. I sat in the chair closest to the door, strategically angled to make a swift get away if it became necessary. Sam was situated in the chair between Dean and I, his fingers toying with a sugar packet. Not a single word had been said since they’d left room 213. I wasn’t sure any of us really knew where to start. The ticking of the stupid clock above the door seemed like an insistent reminder that I was wasting the time I could be using to find my brother.
“Let’s just get this over with. I need to save my damn brother.” I finally snapped, taking a deep gulp of searing coffee to steady myself, “Ask your questions and I’ll answer them as best as I can. And… if you decide to kill me, at least help me save my brother first. Then my life is yours.” I said firmly, relaxing my grip on the paper coffee cup before it collapsed in on itself.
“Why don’t we start with who and what the hell you are?” Dean asked gruffly, arms crossed firmly over his chest.
“My name is Jadiel Angelis. My brother and I… I am an empath and Leo was one before he died.” I explained simply, taking another gulp of coffee to steel my nerves before going on, “Empaths are a dying subspecies of human. We’re not that much different aside from being able to feel and manipulate the emotions of those around us. I’m an Electrokinetic Empath. I can use certain emotions to manipulate electrical currents and I always have a residual charge. Dead phone battery? Problem solved.” I explained, reaching out to touch the phone resting on the table. The screen lit up and the battery percentage skyrocketed to 100%.
“Well that’s handy…” Sam mumbled picking the phone up and unlocking it as if to ensure it hadn’t been damaged by the jolt.
“My brother was a Tempest Empath. His emotions could affect the weather. When he was a teenager, one tantrum could start a thunderstorm. But our gift doesn’t often translate over when we turn into… something else. So, as far as we know… his gift is gone. Not that we’ve had the time to test it exactly. We heal minutely faster than normal humans but he couldn’t heal a whole round of buckshot to the chest.” I explained, feeling like they’d uncorked the hole in the dam on the truth and I couldn’t stop, “I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t let my little brother die for me. So I took him to this… group of vampires that we’d been avoiding nearby. Vampires like empaths because losing blood in high increments signals our bodies to overproduce it… the why to that is a really long explanation I am not going to get into for the sake of time. If you still wanna know after all this is over and you haven’t killed me, I’ll tell you. So I took him to them and… in exchange I would play dinner for a couple weeks… and they would save him. I… I didn’t hesitate. It’s just the two of us and I couldn’t go on without him. He’s all I have left, that last tether keeping me going and in this world. He was… mad for a little while. But once my debt to the vamps had been paid, we moved along, got back to our weird lives with only a few minor changes to the routine.”
“Empaths don’t sound too much different from psychics. We’ve worked with psychics before, so I wouldn’t see any reason to kill you for being an empath.” Sam said gently, patting my hand as if to reassure me. But I could - literally - feel the anger rolling off his brother. I jerked my hand out from under his, rubbing the skin where it tingled from the contact.
“Contact strengthens the read, Sam. Please don’t touch me unless you absolutely have too. It’s bad enough I’m an emotional eavesdrop to begin with. I don’t need to look that deeply into anyone.” I told him, actually sliding my chair a little more away from him. He seemed like a tactile person and I really didn’t want to encourage it, “Your brother, on the other hand, seems to be trying to kill me with his eyes.
“How can you let your brother be turned into a monster?” Dean growled before Sam could reply to my observation.
“Monster is better than dead, Dean. Leo is no different than he was before, just different dental and dietary needs. I’ve been keeping him from dying of anaphylactic shock since we were 16. Now I just make sure he doesn’t eat the maid.” I explained simply, trying to make a joke and falling severely short when Dean’s expression tells me he very much wanted to strangle me, “For the record, he’s never eaten a maid and has no trouble controlling himself, even when he’s gone without blood for a week or more.”
“Dean, stop. I let a vamp turn you before, remember?” Sam said pointedly, probably referring to a situation from the past that I wasn’t privy to.
“That was different, Sam! You weren’t you at the time and you knew Samuel had a cure. He let his brother get turned and didn’t have him cured.” Dean countered. I didn’t say a word, feeling very third-wheel to this argument.
“Those are just excuses, Dean. It still happened and, if I recall correctly, you were very pissed off at me about it, cure or no cure.” Sam reasoned and I sighed, we had to get moving and their argument was clearly going nowhere fast.
“Look, I hate myself enough as it is. You don’t need to hate me too. I did it out of desperation and, while I don’t regret saving his life, I regret that he had to become a vampire to do it. You’re right that I didn’t try to cure him, but I didn’t know there even was a cure. I just wanted my brother to live. I could try now, once he’s rescued. You know the cure, obviously, because you’re not a vampire anymore. So maybe he doesn’t have to stay a monster.” I said, feeling a pang of hope. I wasn’t lying about how I felt about what I’d done. It still haunted me that I’d stolen my brother’s mortality and crippled his powerbase with my selfish decision.
“We do know the cure. But it only works if the vampire hasn’t had human blood yet. The cure doesn’t work afterwards. Not sure if it’s just because it completes some part of the transition or what, but it just doesn’t work.” Sam explained and, just like that, my hopes were dashed. My shoulders slumped and I scrubbed a hand over my face to try and wipe away the despair I knew was all over it.
“Scratch that then.” I whispered, wondering what my face looked like as I gazed uselessly at the cup.
“He fed on a human?” Sam asked quietly, his hand starting for my shoulder, but he seemed to rethink touching me.
“Yeah. Me. I didn’t want him to starve when we couldn’t get animal blood. So when times were slim, I fed him. My supply was already upped after paying the vamps back for the save, so it’s not that big a deal. Or I didn’t think it was.” I admitted quietly, rubbing a hand absently over my shoulder where we hid the marks. It had been a while since the last time, the marks scabbed over and almost gone. They would scar, but you can’t have a wound that deep, not scar, “Most of the time we just get blood from the local butchers wherever we’re stopped. We just say we need a ton to make traditional blood sausages and we get it by the gallons. Most butchers trash it anyway so we’re just helping them take out the trash. Win-win. But when you’re on the run, it’s not easy to just stop somewhere. Monsters still wanna eat me and hunters still think I’m a monster with the double that now I’m living with a monster. So… I guess that’s the lose-lose part of this scenario.”
“Jadiel, take a breath. You’re rambling and it’s a clear sign your anxiety is ratcheting up. So stop, take a breath, and take one of your pills. This conversation probably isn’t going to get any less stressful.” Sam said, hand reaching again. But he stopped once more and dropped it into his lap. I followed his gentle instruction, taking a deep steadying breath before fishing my pills from my pocket and shaking three out into my palm. I knocked them back and gagged against the chalkiness before washing it all down with my coffee.
“Aren’t you supposed to take one of those at a time?” Sam asked, picking up the bottle and reading the label, “And is another one of your aliases Sara Emily?”
“Expired xanax loses its effectiveness, three seems to work at the same rate one fresh one would. I got a friend that sends expired meds he can get ahold of to my P.O. box. No insurance and no legal name makes it hard to get your own prescription.” I explained, snatching the bottle back without touching him, “And you can touch me as long as there’s no skin to skin contact. So laying your hand on my shoulder is fine.” I muttered quietly, shoving the bottle back into the pocket of my jeans.
“That makes sense. I never know where Dean gets half of the painkillers we use for bad hunting injuries.” Sam agreed, dropping a hand on my shoulder and smiling reassuringly. It was unfair how adorable it was.
“Anyways, where do we stand now? Am I on your hit list now or can we try and rescue my brother? Hell, I’ll help you with your case too. Especially if you think they’re linked. Not that I think they are. What would a werewolf want with an ex-empath vampire?” I asked, jumping when a knock sounded at the door and a voice called a quick, “Delivery!”
“Took ‘em long enough.” Dean muttered, shoving his chair back and getting up. I did the same, the chair screeching in protest as I rushed it to keep him from getting too close to me. I swallowed and shook my head.
“I’ll get it.” I told him quickly, pulling my wallet from my back pocket and pulling out a handful of bills as I turned to the door not a foot behind me. I opened it and accepted the two take out bags of food before shoving the cash at the man, “Keep the change.” I muttered, closing the door before the teen could say another word.
“I’m not going to kill you right this second, Jadiel. That was unnecessary.” Dean muttered, slouching back into his seat as I dropped the bags on the table, deftly avoiding knocking over our coffees.
“I’m not comfortable having you that close at my back yet. Especially when you phrase it like you’re going kill me later.” I muttered, “Like it’s still an eventuality.”
“I’m not sure yet. Not sure if someone like you is redeemable.” Dean replied harshly, tearing open the plastic food bags instead of taking the time to untie them.
“Oh, but you are? Talk about the hypocrisy of plot armor. Did you ever think that maybe you’re not the protagonist of this story? Everyone thinks they are. But you can’t have all heroes and villains. You need NPCs to keep the story moving. How do you know your dialog isn’t already chosen for you and you're not just choosing from a list of preapproved answers?” I asked him, feeling rage overpower my own emotions and realizing belatedly that it wasn’t even my own, “Fuck. Sorry.” I groaned, focusing on blocking out the leak now that I realized I’d sprung one. I could tell where it was coming from. A man in the room below the one we were occupying was enraged and I’d picked up on it.
“What was that about, Jadiel? You went from docile to bull-red in a second.” Sam asked, eyes wide and surprised, as if I’d acted completely out of character. Which I had, but he didn’t know that.
“Empath remember. If I let my guard down, outside emotions can override my own without me even realizing it. Someone nearby is unholy pissed and I was so distracted by my own anxiety that the rage took the reins instead. I really am sorry, Dean. I’m upset, but I’m not angry, not yet. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m better now.” I apologized. I wasn’t too proud to admit where I was wrong and I had been wrong here.
“That was… jarring.” Sam admitted, accepting the plastic container full of salad from Dean, then makes a face when he realizes the salad had been on top of the hot food and was now sweaty and limp from the heat. I couldn’t help the amused smirk that flitted across my lips at the disgusted expression before I reached out and touched the edge of the plastic container. Focusing on the static in the air, I centralized it into the container until the heat of it evaporated the excess moisture. It would do nothing for the limpness of the lettuce, but it at least decreased the overall wetness of it.
“Tell me about it. Anger like that physically hurts me if I don’t block it out properly. We’re just lucky it’s one man and not a couple or group. Otherwise I’d be spitting up blood. Empaths typically die young simply because we absorb so many emotions. Our father was on the way to kidney failure. If the demon that ripped him apart hadn’t gotten to him first.” I admitted, hesitantly accepting the bowl of clam chowder Dean handed me while his brother inspected his newly dried salad in awe.
“How did you do that?” Sam asked at the same time Dean questioned, “A demon tore your father apart?” I blinked at them and almost laughed, but thought better of it.
“I focused the static electricity in the air until it was hot enough to evaporate the moisture in the container. The lettuce is already wilted, but at least it’s not floating.” I explained, then turned my attention to Dean, “Yes. I was back home from college, Molly and Leo were on spring break from high school. Three powerful empaths back in the house. Demons are always drawn to power. They killed my sister and then my mother, tried to threaten my father, but he was a stubborn Elemental empath. Turns out demons don’t like when their host gets frozen into a human shaped popsicle. Kinda makes them useless. I just wished he’d manage to do it before his guts were spilling out on the floor. He used his last words to tell me to buck up and take care of my brother, because now the demon was pissed and would be after us all our lives. But that was because there wasn’t a way to kill demons back then. At least not one any of us knew.”
“You know how to kill demons?” Dean asked in disbelief and I nodded.
“Yeah. It’s not easy. I’ve been bounced off of more walls than a pinball, but I’ve gotten it down to a science. The actual killing isn’t even the hard part. It’s finding the opening to drive this between their ribs.” I explained, extracting the demon-killing blade I’d forged, an exact twin to the one my brother normally carries. I’d not found it in the car or the room, so my only hope was that he had it with him. They were not easy to come by after all.
“Where did you get that?” Sam asked, reaching for it, but I jerked it high out of reach. Or I thought I did, but his arms were definitely longer than mine and he got a hold of my wrist. The motion knocked me off balance and we both went down in a sprawling heap, the knife skidding several feet out of reach of both of us. I groaned in pain, half squashed under his larger frame, way too much of our skin touching and sending shocks of pain, confusion, and surprise throughout the whole of my being.
“Ow… I made it. Found a how-to guide on demon killing weapons. Now will you get off of me? You're a goddamn moose!” I muttered, shoving at his shoulder. Dean snorted but I didn’t even spare him a glance as I squirmed to try and get out of the tangle of limbs we’d become.
“Sorry. Hang on.” Sam muttered, shifting to try and get his weight off of me. Only he didn’t pay attention to where he was putting his knee and nailed me square in the balls. I yelped and shoved him, sending him sprawling on his back so I could clutch at them.
“Just kill me and get it over with, man.” I joked as I groaned in a pained ball on the floor. Sam had scrambled to his feet, collecting my dagger and laying it on the table.
“I am… very sorry.” Sam said, seeming to struggle not to laugh while sounding entirely genuine in his apology.
“To think I dried your salad for you.” I scoffed, still clutching myself as I finally forced myself up and flopped into my chair.
“Ah, eat you soup, champ. You’ll feel better.” Dean snickered, his amusement clear and crystal in the air.
“Pft, because chowder is such a great pain reliever.” I muttered, but popped the lid off of the now-lukewarm bowl and dipped my spoon into it.
“Well, ball mangling aside… you said that you had a how-to guide for making demon killing weapons? Where did you get it?” Dean asked, suddenly so much more interested in what I had to say.
“I stole it from demons that thought kidnapping me was cool. Sure showed them. Especially when I hunted each and every one of them down.” I explained, letting that cold well of darkness that inhabited my soul show in my eyes. The part of me that had died and withered and rotted when I faced down my first monster to save my brother.
“How do you know you ganked the demons that had kidnapped you? Maybe they were just random demons.” Dean suggested, but I shook my head, swallowing down a mouthful of chowder.
“No, it was them. Everyone has a different emotional signature. I can recognize people by their signature alone. It’s harder with monsters, especially if they’ve never been human. Non-human entities give off hazy signatures, they come in as static that only really clears with skin contact. But even the static has a person specific makeup. So I knew they were the very same demons that wanted to use my powers for their own gain. I do not recommend demon blood as a power source, man. They force fed me that shit to try to give my powers a boost and it did. But only to their detriment. The detox on that shit is horrible. No power is worth that kind of drawback.” I explained, then frowned when guilt stabbed into me and I turned my gaze to Sam, “What? What’d I say wrong?”
“Sam is a former demon blood addict.” Dean said simply and it was my turn to be tactile, my hand clutching Sam’s shoulder and making him look at me.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. I wasn’t trying to be callous. I have literally felt your pain. I’ve been there.” I told him without going too in depth with the details.
“I know you weren’t saying that as dig to me. You couldn’t have possibly known. You’re right though. The power wasn’t worth the drawback. Can’t imagine what it did to your natural power.” Sam said, leaning into my grasp and managing a sorrowful smile.
“It made me powerful enough to fry a man with a touch. But a power boost like that is impossible to control. I’d had years to learn to control my natural power. The boost wrenched away my control and made me hurt people accidentally. I still hate myself, more than you’ll ever know, for the fact that I allowed myself to relapse. Demon blood is a drug and it’s more addicting than coke. It’s been four years and I still struggle when face to face with demons. Leo usually keeps me stable and on task. We don’t normally separate for this long. But I had a mess to clean up and now he’s missing.” I said, eating another couple of bites of chowder, but my appetite was gone. I pushed the bowl away once I’d put the lid back on. No reason to waste it after all.
“What sort of ‘mess’ are we talking about?” Dean asked, still giving me a bit of the third-degree treatment. He’d make a hell of a detective.
“I slipped up. Accidentally displayed my power during a pressing situation and drew the attention of those who’d seek to utilize it. I was cleaning up the mess… taking out the trash… tying up loose ends. What do you call it when you call it when you wipe out a whole nest of vampires you aren’t on good terms with?” I asked quietly. I had never enjoyed taking a life, monster or otherwise, and I wasn’t one to brag about it either.
“You took out a nest of vampires by yourself ?” Sam asked, frowning deeply.
“It took two weeks, Sam. It’s not impressive. In fact, it was rather pitiful. I should have wrapped it up faster so I could get back to Leo. But… I got sick.” I muttered, looking away in shame.
“Sick? Like a cold?” Dean asked, still grilling me.
“Not like a cold. Remember the whole overproduction of blood thing? Not getting bled is now dangerous. I was so focused on my task that I forgot to do it myself. Even after I corrected the issue… I had to rebound back. I couldn’t walk most of last week. Was too weak.” I mumbled before shaking my head, “None of that matters right now. What matters is finding Leo. I have to find him.” I said, getting up and wincing a bit. I was going to be limping for a little bit, I could still feel the pain in my nuts.
“Slow down, Jadiel. We won’t get anywhere tonight. You should get some rest and we can start fresh in the morning.” Sam said, catching my arm. I winced, equal parts grateful and not that he’d caught the sleeved portion of my arm.
“Ow… let go. Dammit. I don’t have any more bandages…” I said, jerking my arm free and frowning deeply at the spots of blood speckling my shirt, “Look, Sam, there’s no point in working together on this. For one, your brother doesn’t trust me. I won’t be able to settle or rest around that much distrust and animosity. Secondly, our cases aren’t really related. I’d just slow you down in getting to the bottom of yours. Lastly, the maids will find the mess in my brother’s room and I really ought to be out of here before they do. It was nice to meet you, I really like you so far. I wish we could be friends, cuz lord knows I have nearly none. But it’s not gonna work.”
“At least let me help you put on fresh bandages before you go. We have plenty of bandages to spare.” Sam insisted and I sighed, too tired to put up too much of a fuss.
“Fine. But I need to bleed a bit first. Then you can help me wrap everything back up. ‘S the least you can do after crushing my balls.” I mumbled, tucking the demon-killing blade back in my boot and trading it out for the pocket knife in my back pocket.
“Yeah. It’s the least I can do.” Sam agreed with a grin.