A loaded God complex (closed; dean and phaedra)
At the first touch of sunset, Phaedra was awake.
The wards were in place, now, she knew. There was some comfort in that thought. At least no surprise visitors could come by, like last night.
She got dressed (up to and including the daggers on her hips), all of her clothing again black and form-fitting, laced her boots, and made sure the door was shut and locked as she headed out. Phaedra didn't know where Harry was, but she had some rounds to make on her own. Local vampires never talked when a human was there. She was doing the job she was hired to do.
The second she stepped outside, she knew someone was there. She thought about going back inside and getting a gun, but really there were few things that a gun would take down that she and her knives could not. There was a noise, a throat-clearing sound, and she looked up to see a man standing there, leaning on the hood of a classic black car. He waved at her.
What the...?
"Hi there," Dean yelled, the fake smile on his face banging it out to the cheap seats.
Phaedra just blinked in return and continued down the front steps, onto the gravel driveway, and toward him, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Dean shrugged. "Kind of. I'm checking on Harry's safety."
That did it. Phaedra started laughing. Laughing in an uncontrollable way, one that shook her whole body. Dean kept talking, appraising the ten feet between the two of them, now.
"He mentioned you to me, before. He said it was cool, that he was safe, but... the thing is? I've never known a vampire to be completely safe."
Her laughter stopped. She was annoyed. Both annoyed that Harry'd said something about her staying with him, and annoyed that some five-year-old prejudiced child was standing here giving her a hard time about it. Her eyes bled to a lighter, more otherworldly green. And she made the decision to stop playing nice and put this idiot in his place.
"You haven't?"
Dean shook his head.
"And therefore such a thing is completely impossible. Because you know *everything.*"
Dean stood up off of the car, annoyed now himself. "I know enough. And Harry doesn't deserve to have his throat ripped out in his sleep. We've got bigger problems than waiting for you to be a time bomb."
Calmly, coldly, Phaedra walked over to him and stood very close, putting her face right in his. "Watch. Your. Tone."
"Honey, I've killed scarier things than you. Threats aren't going to work."
Phaedra smiled, and she let him see her fangs. "Have you? I guess you either have no idea what I do for a living, or you're just THAT much of a badass."
"For a living? For a dying, maybe. And no, I don't. Harry said he hired you. Something other than muscle?"
Phaedra locked her eyes on his and pulled a card from her front pocket, pressing it into his chest with a thump. A fraction of her strength was behind that pressing, and Dean took two steps back, into the hood of the car. He took the card, brushing his hand against hers, feeling how cold she was, and read it.
"So? It's a phone number." What the hell does a phone number tell me? There's always more to go on than that. Are vampires crazy now? Is that the new thing? That'll make hunting much more interesting.
"Yes, it is," Phaedra said. "Hunter." She smiled. "Benning and Son. Bells? Ringing?"
Dean shook his head. "You read minds."
She nodded.
"So you're a dead thing that's hired muscle and reads minds. Why the fuck should I let you sleep in the same house as Harry? As a human?"
Phaedra laughed again. "LET me?" She grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground with one hand, getting his feet about a foot away from the soil, easily. "Ves'tacha*, you don't let me do anything. I'm too old for that. And you're tiring."
She let Dean go, throwing him just a little bit. He landed about fifteen feet away, completely confused, worried now that he wouldn't get back to Jo in time. This could take a while. He wanted to get back to Jo. He sat up, glowering, and smiled at Phaedra. "Alright, bitch." In another minute he was back on his feet, advancing back toward her.
"Who's Jo?" she asked, pleasantly. The second she did, she pushed slightly at his mind for more. She could see her. Pretty little blonde, also a hunter. Phaedra cursed under her breath in Roma. Hunters. And their not asking questions. She could see a lot of Jo smiling, and Dean... oooh. "Aaaah."
"Leave her out of this, or I swear to God..." "Swear all you want. I don't think you believe enough for that to matter."
Dean shrugged. She had a point. "You? If you're a good guy, be a goddamn good guy and get your own place. Don't even think about Jo. Don't lay a hand on Harry."
She couldn't take it anymore, the arrogance of it. Assuming she'd break, assuming she'd hurt Harry when he was rapidly becoming her friend. Phaedra hit him. It was a slap. A punch could really hurt him. Right across the face. And Dean stumbled, and blood pooled at the corner of his mouth. He licked at it.
"You have no idea who you're talking to," Phaedra seethed.
"Neither do you."
He charged her, managing to knock her over and pin her for a few seconds, just long enough to take out the small vial of dead man's blood he had in his shirt pocket, open it, and grab his knife from his boot. He made a small cut on Phaedra's arm and watched the wound close, incredulous. "Oh, shit," he said, under his breath.
Phaedra flipped them, then, and pinned Dean. To him, it felt like being held down by an unforgiving piece of metal, or a vice. His heart rate was speeding up. "You cut me," she said. "I cut you."
With one of her daggers, she made a small cut on Dean's cheek. Not deep, not nearly as malicious as it could've been. Just a little line.
"What the fuck are you?" Dean asked her.
"Stronger," she answered. She punched him then, and sat up, sort of leaning over him, balanced on her heels. "Are you going to stop being a little shit, now?"
The punch had really hurt. It was going to be a black eye, he could feel it.
"You were, what? Going to feed me dead blood?" Phaedra shook her head and tsked. "Wouldn't do much."
What would?, Dean thought.
He was still glaring, but he was getting it, now. He couldn't hurt her. Not all on his own. Much too strong. Were there different species of vampires, or something? Another phone call to Bobby.
"Your head is much too crowded," she said. "You need to calm down. That girl in your head, the one you love and can't get out of it? You need to tell her, or move on. The things that are here..." she shook her head. "If you're a good guy, be a goddamn good guy and get your head out of your ass."
She got up, then. And offered him a hand up. "My name is Phaedra Romani," she said, most of the contempt erased from her voice. "And I am on your side. Difficult as you find that."
Dean looked at her hand, hesitated a second, and took it, getting to his feet. "Dean Winchester."
A flicker of recognition went through Phaedra's eyes. She dimly remembered John. His sons had been so young, though, then.
Dean rubbed at his bleeding mouth, the pain starting to settle in around his left eye where Phaedra'd hit him.
"You went easy on me." She nodded. "I don't just wail on the good guys, Dean." She smirked. "Please remember that." Her eyes were very human, and very pleading.
And in another second, she vanished, moving much too fast for Dean's eyes to follow.