Fandom/pairing (if appropriate): Wire In The Blood, Supernatural
Summary: Tony Hill comes to learn that not all evil is human in nature.
Rating: all ages
Warnings: mild horror, crack, crossover between incompatible fandoms
Disclaimers: The characters and settings aren't mine. No profit is being made, this is for entertainment only. I know nothing about psychology or police procedure, this is purely a product of my imagination.
A/N: This story was written for a ficathon, using a prompt from Ash Wednesday by TS Eliot. And yes, I know the ending sucks.
“Are you all right?”
Dean Winchester asked as he was helping Tony to his feet.
“I think so,” Tony replied. “In the physical sense at least. I can’t say the same for my mind.” He mumbled, giddy from the adrenaline rush. He was losing his mind, Tony was sure of it as he watched the flames dancing in the window he’d just jumped from. A few seconds later and he’d have burned to death, if the smoke that was now billowing in thick clouds from the broken window wouldn’t have suffocated him first.
Tony was shaken from his daze by the sound of sirens in the distance. Dean was tugging at his arm.
“What are you waiting for? Do you want to be here when the police arrive?”
Tony just stared at him.
“Well, do whatever you want. But don’t forget, I saved your ass.” Dean started running. Tony stared after him for a moment, then started running as well, following Dean deeper into Graeme’s garden.
The thicket of plants was far denser than Tony remembered. In the darkness, he nearly stumbled over protruding roots and branches slapped into his face as he tried not to lose track of Dean Winchester. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached the back wall fencing in the property. Dean climbed over with ease, while Tony struggled to follow him, already seriously out of breath from the run. He eventually made it over the wall, landing hard on the other side and promptly twisting his ankle. It was ironic; he had managed to jump from a first floor window without injury, but not from a three foot wall.
Limping painfully, Tony continued on the other side, no longer able to see Dean. He reached the street with difficulty. Tony bent over, bracing his hands on his thighs as he fought to catch his breath. He was tempted to simply sit down on the pavement, his lungs and muscles burning from the strain. A car horn honked near him and Tony looked up. A few meters down the street stood a yellow station wagon. He couldn’t see the driver very well, but it looked like Dean Winchester. Tony limped his way over to the car. Dean threw open the passenger door and Tony climbed in, a small voice in the back of his head wondering what on Earth he was doing, getting into a car with a potential psychopath. He was less and less convinced that the man was guilty of more than being over-protective of his brother, but he was still risking his neck on the vague notion that whatever creatures he had seen at the Graeme house had been real after all and not a product of some highly improbable folie a deux.
As soon as Tony was in the car, Dean wordlessly pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street.
Tony’s hands trembled as he tried to insert the key into the lock of his flat. Dean Winchester stood behind him, throwing suspicious glances down the corridor as if he was expecting an entire police platoon to show up in the hallway.
“There we are.” Tony finally managed to unlock the door. Dean pushed his way past him, into the flat. Tony followed him.
“Make yourself at home,” He told Dean as he switched on the light. Tony limped into the kitchen, making his way to the freezer. He pulled out a packet of frozen peas, pulled two beers from the fridge and went back to the living room.
Dean was sitting in one of the armchairs. His posture was tense, ready for fight or flight at any moment. Tony handed him one of the beer cans before slumping down in the other armchair. He eased off his left shoe, inspecting his swollen ankle and placing the packet of peas strategically over the area. He winced at the contact with the icy cold plastic and turned his attention back to Dean.
“So, is there any reason I shouldn’t call the police right now?” he asked Dean, suddenly feeling very tired in the wake of the adrenaline rush.
“I saved your life. That should count for something,” Dean said, opening his beer. His posture relaxed a little as he took a long sip from the can. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days and hadn’t had a shower in even longer. “You said you worked for the police?”
“I’m a psychiatric consultant. I work with the police on certain cases.” Tony explained.
“Can you get me to see my brother?” Dean asked. The look in his eyes told Tony that he wasn’t asking lightly.
“Not officially. The police are looking for you.” Tony paused. “I must be mad for bringing you here.” He shook his head. “I guess it’s because I need to know what really happened. To your brother and to the other two young men.”
“Are you sure you want to know? You might not like the answer,” Dean said, putting his beer down on the couch table.
“The truth. I don’t know. Not yet.” Dean shrugged. Tony regarded him carefully, trying to gauge of Dean was telling the truth. He had the feeling that the other man was holding back, but he wasn’t sure it was because he was inherently paranoid and unable to trust anyone outside who wasn’t part of his network of beliefs or it was because he wanted to protect his brother.
“Okay.” Tony responded, drawing out the word. “Do you want to at least get a shower?”
Tony and Sam made it past the police guards with a smile. Tony was well known in the department and it was probably common knowledge that he was working on this rather sensational case with the Bradfield police department.
The two police guards let him pass and Tony wheeled Sam outside, into the large park sprawling behind the hospital. Sam had been apprehensive when Tony had first communicated to him that they were going outside, but when Tony had told him that they were going to meet with Dean, Sam had co-operated willingly. Tony had managed to talk Dean into having some food after his shower, but as it had started to dawn outside, Dean had grown restless. He’d watched the news for a while, as the events of the night had made the early morning news. There had been no mention of Dean or Tony for that matter, but still Dean had bid him good-bye and left, but not before agreeing to meet at the hospital the next day to see Sam.
They met Dean at the table at the far end, near the fence that enclosed the park. Dean didn’t look like he had slept since the last time they had met, but he didn’t ask. The less he knew the better, he was already bound to be in a world of trouble when Carol found out he had know where to find Dean Winchester and he met with him without informing the police. He still wasn’t convinced that Dean was sane, but he couldn’t forget what he had seen the previous night and how Dean had saved his life without hesitation. If there was a chance that he could help Sam by helping Dean to do whatever he believed needed to be done, Tony was ready to do it, never mind the professional consequences. So often in his line of work, he only entered the picture after lives had been lost or ruined by incredible acts of violence. This time, he had a chance to save a life. Possibly two lives, since he didn’t think Dean would survive if his brother didn’t recover.
Tony squeezed Sam’s hand, letting him know that Dean was now there. Dean enveloped his brother in a hug. At first Sam remained stiff in the older man’s grip, but then he softened and returned to the gesture.
“Dean, is that really you?” Tony could hear Sam whisper in a hoarse voice.
“You bet, dude.” Dean replied, and then he took Sam’s hand to communicate his answer. Tony walked away a few meters, willing to give the brothers some time alone. He couldn’t stay out with Sam for too long without arising suspicion, but he had promised Dean he would let him meet Sam.
Tony’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, noting the caller ID with a wince. It was Carol. She had been calling him all day, but he had been dodging her calls. Now it was time to face the music.
He pressed the button to accept the call.
“Carol, listen…” Tony began, but Carol cut him off almost immediately.
“Tony, where have you been? You haven’t answered your mobile all day. There has been a new development. The Graeme house burned down and the fire investigator thinks it was arson. I know you have your responsibilities at the university, but I need you on this one. The case is really starting to get out of hand. The press is all over it, accusing us of incompetence, and for once, I’m starting to think that they are right.”
“Carol, listen. I know what happened. I was there last night.” Tony explained, bracing himself for the storm of angry words that were soon to follow.
“You were? What on Earth were you doing there?” Carol responded, more surprised than angry.
“I was looking for Dean Winchester.” Tony replied, appeasing his conscience with the fact that this was at least technically true.
“Tony….” Carol started, but broke off. “Did you find him?”
“No.” Tony lied. “I think he’s been hiding at the house, but he was gone when I got there.”
“And you were there when the fire started? How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the window.”
“Are you all right?” Carol asked, sounding concerned.
“I’m fine. Twisted my ankle, but yes, I’m fine.”
“Then why didn’t you wait for the police?” Carol asked, sounding accusatory, but worried at the same time. Carol wasn’t stupid. Tony was sure that she could tell that he wasn’t entirely truthful with her.
That was an interesting question Tony couldn’t quite answer himself. He had no idea why he had taken off with Dean and he didn’t relish trying to explain the situation to Carol. “Anyways,” Tony changed the subject. “I’m at the hospital with Sam. I had my phone turned off. I’m trying to find out if he knows anything about where his brother might be hiding.”
“Good luck,” Carol responded. “I want you back at the station as soon as possible. And I want to know everything that happened last night.” It sounded like a threat to Tony. He knew he was in deep trouble. Lying probably made it worse, since Carol was bound to find out sooner or later, although if she would believe the truth was another matter entirely. Tony wasn’t sure he believed it and he had seen it with his own eyes.
“I’ll see you there.” Before Carol could answer, Tony pressed the button to end the call and put the phone back into his pocket. He walked back over to Dean, who appeared to be totally immersed in the silent conversation with his brother.
“Dean.” Dean whirled around, looking as if he was ready to punch Tony again. “I didn’t tell the police about you, but they will be looking for you now more than ever. You need to get out of Bradfield.”
“I can’t leave Sam here. I told you, I have to finish this.”
“You can’t go back to the house. The police slipped up twice, they won’t slip up a third time.”
I’m pretty good at getting past them.”
“It’s too dangerous. What if you get arrested? The police know you are wanted back in the US. Even if the murder charges don’t stick, the FBI is going to file for extradition.”
Dean nodded the expression on his face grave. “I’m not leaving, Sam here. I don’t know what I’ll have to do, but I will keep looking, no matter how long it takes. Just take care of Sam until I’m back.”
Tony nodded. “Take this. You’ll need this.” Tony handed the journal back to Dean.
Dean shot him a questioning look.
“I don’t understand half of it, but I know it means a lot to you.” Dean hugged Sam a last time then turned to leave.
“There is something else.” Tony called after him. He hadn’t been sure if he should tell Dean about his theory, sure it would spur him into further action. “The police had found Graeme. He’s dead, but they found a journal in his car. He’s recorded everything in there. Including where he buried his victims.”
“There are more?” Dean asked, as if he could read Tony’s mind.
“Yes, there are three more, buried on the property.” Tony pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Dean. “I made notes about their location.”
“Thank you. I know you don’t believe in the supernatural and you probably think I’m some sort of psychopathic killer, still, I appreciate the help.” Dean pocketed the note and a moment later, he’d climbed over the fence and disappeared.
Dean floored the accelerator of his stolen Volvo as he sped away from the Graeme estate into the nightly city. The sirens were howling in the distance, the patrolling officers having obviously sent for reinforcements as soon as they had detected his handy-work. It had been pretty hard to break into the estate this time, especially since he couldn’t use his preferred method of going in through the front door with a false ID because his picture had been was bound to have been all over the news. Officers had now been patrolling the large grounds themselves, but after watching them for two hours, he had figured out their pattern and had broken in with relative ease. He’d handled tougher security. Dean pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket that was open around the clock. He made sure to park in a remote corner. He got out of the car and walked over to the public payphone. Inserting the last of his coins, he dialled Tony’s number.
The phone rang, once, twice, a third them, and then someone answered.
“Hello.” The voice was utterly familiar, but it was the last thing Dean had expected to hear. Relief flooded him even before he asked the next questions.
“You bet, dude.”
“Man, I can’t tell you….are you okay?”
“Yeah, it happened all suddenly. Everything was dark, and then I was in this place…”
“What place?” dean asked, a bit alarmed.
“I think it’s a hospital.”
“Dude, it’s where you’ve been all of last week. Don’t you remember?” Dean asked, not certain he really wanted Sam to recall anything about the experience. His own memories were weighing heavily enough on him without any new nightmares haunting Sam.
“I’m not sure. I can remember some things, but most of it is a big black blur...” Sam replied and Dean believed him, mostly because he really wanted and needed to.
“Listen, I can’t come to get you. But….how did you get Tony’s phone anyways?” Dean suddenly realized that he had dialled Tony’s number when Sam had answered.
“Found it in the nightstand.” Sam told him. “I’d love to break out of here, but I have no idea where I am.”
“Bradfield. You remember?”
“Yes, I remember checking out a case there, but I don’t recall getting there.”
Dean breathed a sigh of relief. The less Sam recalled about what had happened the better.
“Listen, I have to go. There is a nurse coming. I’ll meet you at the usual place.” Sam said. Before Dean could reply, the connection was terminated. Dean hung up. He had to find a copy of the yellow pages, or whatever they called it in this country. Meet at the first motel listed, under a false name - that was their routine in case they ever got separated. Like now.
Sam knocked on the door of room twelve of the Traveller’s Motel.
“Dean, it’s me.” He called out.
His flight from the hospital had taken longer than he’d expected. His first attempt had been cut short when he’d discovered that he was apparently under police guard, something which Dean had neglected to mention, but which might explain why Dean wouldn’t come in person. But the police didn’t seem to consider Sam to be the bad guy, and, apparently surprised at his recovery, one of them had run off to find a pay phone while the other had run to find a doctor, leaving Sam to wonder just what had happened to him. Dean had tried to hide it, but Sam could tell his brother had been worried when they’d spoken on the phone. Physically speaking, Sam didn’t feel too bad and except for a few bruises, he could find no injuries on himself.
When both of the police officers had been distracted, he’d made a run for it.
The door opened a fraction of an inch. Dean peered through the crack, opening the door fully when he saw Sam.
Sam slipped inside and was immediately caught in a hug.
“Uhm, Dean….” Sam started. Dean seemed to realize what he was doing and released him. Sam studied the expression on Dean’s face. The way he was looking at him worried Sam.
Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him to the bed farthest from the door. “Sit down.”
“I’m okay, Dean, really.” Sam insisted, but still sat down. Dean tossed a sweater over to him. “Put that on.”
Dean watched him carefully as Sam put on the sweater. Sam was started to feel a little bit freaked out by Dean’s behaviour. It wasn’t like he was mortally wounded, or anything like that.
“Dean, what is going on?” Sam asked. He was starting to get a really bad feeling. Whatever had happened and he couldn’t remember- it had to be bad.
“Just glad to have you back.”
“I gathered that.” Sam paused. “You wouldn’t happen to have any food lying around?” For the first time since his arrival, Sam had a good look at the room. It was one of the less tasteful motel rooms he’d stayed in, but at least it looked fairly clean. Tired, he scooted back and leaned against the bed’s headboard.
“Food?” Dean asked as if Sam had just asked for a pink tutu.
“You know. The stuff you eat?”
“Oh, yeah. I think I saw a vending machine outside. I’ll get you something.” Dean headed for the door.
“I’ll take a shower in the meantime.” Sam called out to him. Dean stopped and for a moment Sam thought he was going to turn around and say something, but Dean simply disappeared out the door.
After treating all the entrances with salt and tracing an additional circle of salt around Sam’s bed, Dean settled down on his own bed. He was beyond exhausted, but his mind refused to let him rest. He had once told Sam that he wasn’t afraid of the things they hunted, but it wasn’t true. These creatures, whatever they had been, had scared the hell out of him. He could only hope that burning the bodies had gotten rid of them for good.
Dean hated asking for help, but he’d called their father’s friend Phil again and asked if lay low for a while at his place. It wasn’t just Sam who needed to rest, even though Dean liked to tell himself that, but he was in dire need of food and rest, two things he had been hardly able to afford during the previous weeks.
There had just been enough cash in the stolen wallet to pay their room for one night and Dean hadn’t dared to use any of the credit cards, afraid to put the police on their trail. They were going to need to ditch Tony’s mobile, too, just in case the police were tracing it. Sam was going to ask questions about what happened eventually. While Dean wouldn’t deny him the right to know, he was determined not to add any more nightmare fodder to Sam’s mind.
Dean lowered his head on the pillow and cast a last look at Sam before switching off the light. It was already dawn outside, but they had earned themselves a few hours of respite.