Benjamen Isaac Braeden (mr_hero) wrote in spn_nextgen, @ 2011-05-25 22:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1x12 - the show must go on |
Episode 1x12: The Show Must Go On (Part 1 of 2)
Almost all the driving since Vermont had been either him or Claire, and Ben was starting to get annoyed with it. In fact, he was starting to get annoyed with a lot of things, the more he thought about them. Like how Jesse constantly complained every time they researched, or how he never seemed to take his studying seriously, or how -- when they were working a job -- he was always looking for the easy option rather than taking the necessary steps to get it done right. Hunters had tried and true methods, but nothing seemed to apply to him. Not even taking his turn driving. It was getting on his nerves. Claire didn’t seem to mind though, so for her sake he kept his agitation inside and unseen on his face.
“So we’re going to Kat’s contact’s place first?” Ben asked, wanting to be sure. They were maybe an hour outside of the city limits still, and from what Claire had gotten from the phone call earlier, Lucas didn’t live in the city proper but rather on the edges of it.
“Might as well.” Claire eased back a bit more against the front seat, arranging her hair out from behind her shoulder blades. She had her bare feet propped out the side of the open passenger window, crossed at the ankles. The wind on the soles of her feet was a strange sort of soothing. “See if anything’s up in the city--” unlike their last attempt at a vacation.
Jesse gave a light snort. “It’s Vegas. Something better be up. Or else the films are all lies.” Already slouched, he turned to sprawl across the backseat. His ass was going numb.
“All films are lies,” Claire reminded him lazily. She reached for the liter to-go cup from the 7-Eleven three hours back, only to find a disappointing mixture of flat, watered down Pepsi on the first sip. Her nose wrinkled in distaste.
“Oh I dunno, Highway was pretty accurate,” Ben said distractedly as he wrestled with the map, one hand holding the wheel steady.
Jesse raised his head slightly but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Alright. Take your word for it.” After a deep breath he said, “How much longer to Vegas?”
“‘bout an hour, maybe?” Claire pushed the cup back to its holder, lolling her head toward Ben and his fight with the map. “How’bout I handle that for a while, huh?” For all his talents, multitasking while driving was not one of them.
Ben passed her the map without further prompting, glad to have one less thing to worry about. “What exit do we need to get off on?”
“Kilgore Road.” Claire blanketed herself with the map, already fighting with the task of refolding it. “Lucas apparently lives just outside an old Industrial park.”
“Seriously?” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you know people with big houses and pools?”
Ben clenched his jaw and kept quiet. Claire paused, then pulled her feet out of the window so she could sit up and turn around enough to look at Jesse over her shoulder.
“You in a hurry to go back to a pool?” she asked him pointedly.
Jesse went quiet a moment, a little red rising to his cheeks. “Well an unhaunted one might be nice.”
“What’s the exit number?” Ben asked, brushing the topic under the rug before it got any steam.
***
The narrow townhouse didn’t look any different from the others along the street, except for small things. The grass was dead or dirt; there were no curtains on the windows; no name on the mailbox out front. Jesse’s face was squinched tight but he didn’t say anything as they headed up the short steps to the door.
When they hit the doorbell, there was a buzz from the living room, but an echoed chime from somewhere higher, and a ringing from inside the garage. That’s where a sudden clatter of falling metal came from, too, before the intercom at the door crackled with static.
“Shit. Hello?”
Claire’s brows arched high, sharing a look between both Ben and Jesse before turning to the intercom.
“Not interrupting, are we?” she quipped into the speaker, using the seemingly nondescript trigger phrase given to her by Kat.
There was a heavy sigh before he replied woodenly. “I got my hands full, but I could use a few more. Just a sec.”
There was the sound of shifting, something scraping across cement in the garage, then the slam of a door. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a tanned man with buzzed hair and narrow glasses.
His startled eyes fell on Claire. “You’re Kat’s friend?”
Ben’s face immediately hardened a little at that verbal reaction. He had been expecting someone closer to Kat’s age, too. Also, the fact that Lucas noticed Claire first put him on edge.
“Problem?” he prompted, arching his brows at the other man.
Eyes moving to Ben, Lucas slouched back with a slight smile. “No. I just figured with Kat, it’d be someone a bit, y’know... Kat-like. Explains our conversation a bit more at least. C’mon in,” he said, stepping back and opening the door.
“More Kat-like?” Claire was lightly amused at the notion, a lot easier going at the moment because they were finally out of the car. It’d been a long three days on the road. She hadn’t missed Ben’s subtle bristling, but decided against bringing any more attention to it besides the discreet brush of her fingertips along his jeans before they all stepped inside. “What’d she say about me?”
“Oh, nothing. Just, y’know, treat you well,” he said with a shrug, clearing books off a saggy sofa. The room was mostly books, from overflowing shelves to stacks on the floor.
“Nice room. Very...retro,” Jesse said, looking at the sofa and debating the safety of it.
Ben looked around with some interest as well, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia he couldn’t quite place. He’d been somewhere like this before, and immediately he felt a pang of sadness in his chest at the reminder of his lost year back when he was still a teenager.
“Yeah, you won’t find these things on Project Gutenberg,” Lucas said as he settled in an armchair. “So, what do you guys need?”
“Some R&R,” Claire responded tiredly after giving the couch a dubious look. She settled on its arm, after plucking up what looked like a first edition copy of the St. James Bible. Which was falling apart. Damn thing looked like it’d spent an hour in the permanent press cycle. She very carefully set it on the stack by her feet, smiling at Kat’s lanky contact. “Just wanted to make sure we didn’t walk into a shitstorm--our last vacation didn’t go so well.”
“No shit storming as far as I know. And generally I know,” Lucas said with a grin. “Vacation, eh? Didn’t know hunters took those.”
“By all accounts, that remains true,” Ben replied, smiling wryly.
“Just taking a few days to recover,” she clarified to Lucas, her smile cooled slightly, but didn’t disappear. Already there were thoughts in her head to make use of this very unique library. There were a lot of questions that had been bouncing around her head since Maine; things a second opinion (that hadn’t been pouring over things for so long) could really help with. But she bit the desire to bring it up back. Saving it for later.
“You need a place to say?” Lucas perked up slightly. “I’ve got another room, and the couch.”
Jesse gave a bark of a laugh from where he was peering at the bookshelf. “No, we’re going to a hotel.”
“But thank you for the invitation,” Ben added, shooting a glare at the back of Jesse’s head. “We wouldn’t want to impose, and there’s three of us. You look like you’ve barely got enough space to stretch out yourself.”
“I have people over all the time. But if you can afford Vegas prices, power to you,” Lucas said, though he looked a little disappointed. “So you three work together? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a hunting trio.”
Claire smiled at him a little crookedly, gathering her hair into a messy twist, which she anchored with the stretched out rubber band on her wrist. No humidity or not, heat was heat, and her hair might as well have been a blanket.
“You lived here long?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his question as she casually shrugged out of the light canvass jacket and set it across her forearm.
“Yeah, quite a few years. When you gotta keep all this stuff--” he said, gesturing at the room, “--it’s not easy to pick up and run off. Makes it easier for hunters, though, to know where to find me when they need some brains.”
That earned a short snicker from Claire, barely enough to cover her breath. “Point taken,” she said dryly. “We don’t have that long, and I don’t feel like looking especially touristy. Would you be up for showing us around?”
Ben bit his lip to keep his frown from expanding too much. He had thought they were going to talk to Kat’s contact to get someone else to research for them, not play tour guide.
Lucas grinned so wide it looked like it hurt. “Yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t know all the best places or anything, don’t have a lot of cash to burn, but I’m happy to show you around.” Claire nodded once, pressing her lips into a warm smile.
“D’you know any good poker spots?” Ben asked suddenly. “I mean, I know it’s Vegas, so... yeah, but seriously. Places with no covers, et cetera.”
“Yeah, sure, I know a few. Guess that’s how you’re paying for the hotel, huh?” Lucas added with a grin.
“No, I’m paying for the hotel,” Jesse said, weighing what he figured was a large, bronze paperweight in his hand. “If we had to rely on these two for cash, we’d be sleeping in the car.” Claire bit back the urge to throw her jacket at him, and instead opted to wrinkle a slightly sunburned nose at the back of his head before turning back to Lucas.
“There’re lots of ways, but I’m sure you’ve heard’em all. I’m particular to dive-pool halls, myself.” She grinned, leaning back against the couch a bit more. No one suspects the little blond girl with the silver cross around her neck.
“You shoot pool?” Jesse said, turning around and raising her eyebrows at her. Which in turn got him a surprised look from Lucas. Ben tried not to roll his eyes. Granted, they hadn’t had to go about doing any of the normal money-gathering techniques since Jesse joined up with them, but he figured the other man would at least have some idea how they’d managed to live without jobs as long as they had.
Claire sent a clear what of it look to Jesse, arching one brow a little more than the other. “Been a while, but the math doesn’t change.”
“So Lucas,” Ben said after a moment, hoping to thin the air and get back to why they’d came in the first place. “What services do you offer? Kat mentioned researching, but she was kinda vague.”
***
The slap of coins on fake wood lacquer stuck out from between the clack of billiard balls and the white noise around them. Claire picked her hand up from the stack of quarters that represented her claim on the next game. The way her grin leaned matched the confidence of the gesture perfectly.
She was rewarded with dubious looks, raised eyebrows, and bright, drunken grins. Perfect.
“You plan on takin’ us both on, Barbie?” The closest of the two Delta-Chi’s chimed in from his lean near the rack. He looked like he just stepped out of a campus-awareness safety video; perfect teeth, dimples, and a look of undeniable entitlement. Claire smiled sweetly at him.
“Two against one doesn’t really seem fair,” the other said. Though from the way he was eyeballing her, he obviously thought very differently of the scenario.
“Oh, I thought this was for the winner?” she sparked the innocence in her eyes--so easily faked, because she could remember the difference so well. A sheepish smile and an easily conjured blush was the icing on her cake. “Really, either way. I need the practice.”
“Oh, we can help you with that,” the first responded. She met his eyes with the chirp of a girlish giggle, and ran a hand through her hair. He looked like a Toby. Tobias. Something rich or snobbish sounding.
“If you say so. What’re we playin’?”
‘Toby’ sent his friend a confident glance, then pushed off in order to circle around Claire’s side of the table, leaning against it, right next to her. He took her cue with a gentle insistence, smiling at her as he rubbed the tip with chalk. She kept his gaze for a moment, just enough to make it count, then hid a fake smile with a sip from her beer.
“What’s your real name, Barbie?” Toby’s friend asked, brows arched faintly in a not-so-subtle sign of interest.
“What? You don’t like ‘Barbie’?” She sent the other a friendly grin around the lips of the brown bottle. One more sip later, she lowered it by the flowy peasant shirt that hung a little off one shoulder. “It’s Sarah.”
“You know Eight-ball, Sarah?” Toby handed back the polished stick, then toyed with the thin, tasseled string that held the neckline of her shirt together--just for a second. She coyly pushed his hand away, inwardly suppressing an urge to wack it hard with the piece of wood in her hand. Break a few knuckles. See how well that helps his game.
“I think I can handle it.”
He pulled his hand back, but certainly took his time with it, then threw a look over his shoulder. “Rack’em up, Keith.” Then, back to Claire. “You wanna break, sweetie?”
She pursed her lips as if she were really pondering that one, then shook her head faintly.
“Why don’t you and ‘Keith’ show me how it’s done.”
Keith flashed a grin at her, slotting in a few of Claire’s coins before the balls started loading into the well. Once the clacking stopped, he started piling the balls into the rack in order. He rocked the rack into place then removed it expertly, picking up his cue and twirling it loosely in his hand.
“Go for it, Greg.”
Apparently he wasn’t a ‘Toby’. Well worn cowboy boots shuffled back a few steps from the table, Claire watched them both in their turn--just as she’d been watching them play for the last forty minutes, with Ben in the back of the room. Greg languidly rolled to the end of the table and took his aim. Left handed. Favors his index finger. Sucks at south-banks. The triangle of porcelain balls spread apart with impact, sinking a stripe. Claire flicked her eyes up to Keith, expecting him to take the next shot--if she really was playing two on one. Right handed. Too much power. Too much English. She looked back at Greg, arching her brows over a sweet smile.
“You’re good.” She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, then toyed with the cross around her neck, fingering it with seemingly random obsession.
“Well look who the cat dragged in.”
Ben slid his hand along her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze and grinning around her shoulder before kissing her forehead.
“Heya, sis.”
Keith and Greg blinked at them, then Greg smirked.
“You’re her brother?” he asked, making a small effort to use tact in his tone, but it was bland. He looked at Ben like he was a speed-bump rather than a barrier. Claire patted Ben’s shoulder, then gave it a squeeze, meeting Greg’s eyes. Her brows arched cutely.
“Little brother.”
Keith grinned. “You play pool, little bro?”
Claire could feel Ben tense up a little, but he laughed airily. “A bit, but I’m not nearly as good as Sarah. I’m more of a cheerleader.” Greg’s minor annoyance slipped away easily as he nodded toward Keith, giving him the go-ahead for the next shot, and eased up next to the blond he knew as Sarah, opposite side as her ‘brother’.
“You’re that good, huh?” he purred down at her with a smile. Claire shrugged faintly, smiling back.
“Been a while.” In the meantime, Keith stooped over the table and lined up his shot. Just as she predicted, he put way too much spin on it. Both balls went askew, then stilled. She bumped off the edge of the table she was leaning on, away from Greg the Mark, and Ben--the brother. That was still a bit hard to swallow.
“What’s it been, Rick? Three years?” She rounded the table, drawing the cue languidly over the skin between her thumb and index finger, bent over the cue-ball, and purposefully missed a fairly easy shot.
“At least. Y’know how Dad feels about you going to bars.” Ben’s lips curved in a secretive smile. “If he were alive today, he’d probably threaten to take you over his knee.” She looked up from her botched turn, straightening. A very subtle smirk on her lips went hidden behind another sip of beer when she grabbed it from the table.
Greg shared another look with his partner, then sided up to the table for his shot--but paused when the tip of a cowboy boot lightly nudged his foot. Claire grinned at him, trying to give the illusion of rebellion against what had been hinted as a ‘strict upbringing’.
“Wanna make it interesting? We are in Vegas, after all</i>.”
Greg cocked an eyebrow at her, inching a bit closer and sliding his hand along the side of the pool table. “Interesting like...?”
Claire pressed her lips together, contemplating. Her head tick-tocked side to side before she settled her grin on him. “Double-ups? Say we start at five a shot.”
Greg’s lips spread in a slow smile. “You sure you got that kinda money, sweetie?” Claire let her smile show a little heat.
“I’m a big girl,” she said, lifting her beer for another sip. Greg leaned in a bit more.
“And your brother won’t be mad, seeing me walk away with your money?”
Ben spoke up, his tone a little more crisp: “Hey, what’s with all the secrets over there?” Claire looked in his direction, again casually moving her hand to her necklace. She smiled at Greg.
“S’my money; not his.” She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, scraping it in her smile until the flesh snapped back. “It’ll be fun.”
Greg’s smile lengthened. “All right then. From now, or d’ya wanna start from the top and work your way down?” She chuckled at the little innuendo, only for show. Then, gestured at the table.
“Already paid for this game anyway, so let’s start here. Hey Rick,” she called, lifting her brows. “Keep score?”
Ben flashed her a quick smile. “You got it.”
“Five on the shot,” she started, lifting her ass off the table so she could dig in her wallet. A stack of bills pinched between her fingers, waved a little so both Greg and Keith could see. “Double-up every next one.” Just laying out the rules, Claire casually folded the money and pushed it into her front pocket.
The next few shots followed the plan. Claire sank one shot, but missed the next four. Ben scowled from where he was watching, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in his cue that the next few words coming out of his mouth were just part of the show.
“Hey, c’mon, Sarah, you’re dropin’ too much coin.” Lining herself up for her next shot, Claire blew a sigh through her lips in frustration, shaking her head as she stooped low and took aim.
“I just need more practice,” she said, drawing the stick back smoothly. She didn’t need more practice: she just needed to bait the hook.
“Double or nothing,” she paused, just before taking the shot--her eyes up to Greg, smiling to show how blissfully overconfident she was.
“C’mon, Sar, seriously,” Ben said, his voice a bit more insistent and much louder. A few people in the bar turned their heads in their direction. “I haven’t got cash enough to cover you this time.”
“Hey, she’s a big girl,” Keith piped up. Ben turned and glared daggers into him. That look seemed to push Greg in the right direction.
“You’re on,” he agreed, offering his hand toward Claire with a smirk. She smiled cordially at him and straightened up to shake it, but Greg didn’t let go right away. In fact, he pulled her toward him. Claire tilted her head a bit, expectant--also holding back the urge to snap his wrist. “Since you’re gonna lose, and all... how’bout I buy us drinks after?”
“Hey!” Ben snapped, his voice taking on a razor edge. Greg didn’t even look up, and Claire held his gaze just long enough to squeeze his hand a little harder than was necessary.
“We’ll see,” she forced through her smile, then slid back to take her shot; meeting Ben’s eyes from under her lashes right before taking aim. No more purposeful blunders.
By the fourth shot she made in a row, Keith was looking worried.
“Uh, Greg?”
“Shut up,” Greg grunted out. His eyes were narrowed as he looked over at Ben, then at Claire, before turning his eyes back down to the pool table again.
“Think I found my stride,” Claire quipped sweetly, understandably in ‘better spirits’ than when she was two hundred in the hole. Now they were up around five hundred, and she still had six shots. The clack of the balls took that number down to four, since she sunk two solids in one semi-complex bank-shot, making that particular hole worth three hundred alone.
“Shit.”
Ben struggled to keep a straight face. God, she was so hot right now. He wanted more than anything to take her right over the table in front of everyone.
“Twenty bucks she misses the last shot,” some stranger in the crowd muttered, their voice cutting through the noise. There was a very familiar, Australian lilt to the words. “No way anyone’s this lucky.”
Not ‘lucky,’ Claire thought to herself, momentarily distracted from her run of the table. Her eyes slid in the direction of that familiar voice, knowing exactly who it was, even if she couldn’t see him. Shaking her head through the grin, she caught her lip in her teeth and sank the next three shots.
“Holy shit,” Ben muttered. He sounded surprised, but he was also a very good actor.
“Fuck!” Greg snatched his beer from the table, sharing an angry look with Keith, who looked like he just got kicked in the stomach. He set his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers around the beer bottle, and eyeing Claire. She sensed the glare, and paused before taking the final shot.
“You alright?” she seemed to ask sincerely. “Last shot can just be for fun, if you’re worried...” It was a gamble: a gamble worth roughly five hundred dollars--lost if the two frat boys decided to turn tail and back out. But Claire considered herself a pretty good judge of character.
Greg met her eyes, his still narrowed as he studied her. Then his lips quirked and he leaned in.
“How ‘bout this?” he said, pitching his voice low. “One good kiss and we call it even.”
That earned a genuine laugh from Claire, though she was careful to keep it low and warm. “That’s an expensive kiss,” she quipped playfully, but gently nudged him out of her personal space with a palm on his chest.
“S’the least you could do, pullin’ the wool over my eyes,” he said in the same quiet voice. She slowly lifted a brow at him, and the not-so-subtle tone he used. Dangerous territory. Her hand pushed through her hair, displacing the pale waves, especially when she scratched a little at the back of her neck, making sure Ben saw it.
“Betting’s legal here,” she reminded Greg sweetly. As if he didn’t know that. “Y’win some, y’lose some.” With that, she turned her attention back to the pool table, bracing her thigh against the edge as she lined up with the Eight Ball.
“Side pocket, off the rail,” she called it loud enough for the gathered crowd around them to hear. One smooth strike later, she won the game. The crowd around them erupted with shouts of praise and clapping.
“Greg--!” Keith said in alarm.
“I said shut up,” Greg snapped. He frowned in agitation, pulling out is wallet and pulling out bills. “You’re paying half, man.”
“Well that was fun,” Claire smiled warmly, laying her cue on the table. She hopped up to sit on its edge, watching both young men prepare to part with their money. “I should play two on one more often.”
Ben just barely managed to keep from snickering, heat flooding through him. I’ll drink to that, he thought, catching Claire’s eye and winking at her.
***
Checking his reflection in the mirror, Ben’s brows furrowed. He didn’t really do suits. He owned exactly two, and only for playing roles on cases. Neither of them had really been high roller poker room material, so they’d had to go “shopping.”
Ben didn’t really do shopping, either.
He and Jesse still weren’t talking, so Claire had to pick it out for him. She’d assured him that he looked good when he tried it on. She refused to let him see her try on her dress, though. Had he not been itching to get out of there as quickly as possible, he might have pouted.
“We’re gonna be late to the show!” Ben called out, his hands smoothing over his hair for what could have been the twentieth time since he’d slicked it back.
“We still have a half-hour,” Claire called back from the bathroom--the huge bathroom, compared to most of the Super 8’s or Ramada Inn’s they’d been staying at for the last who-knew-how-long. She checked herself in the mirror one last time, deft fingertips tucking a wide curl that fell from the rest. It refused to cooperate, so it remained laying loose on her shoulder. Claire had mastered many things for necessity in the last decade. Doing her hair for prom wasn’t one of them.
With one last swipe of cherry lip-gloss over her lips, she rolled them, then turned for the main room. Thin heels (that could easily be kicked off if she needed to run or fight something off) clicked on the bathroom tile under a drape of rich teal silk. Caught in the orange sunset through the window, it glowed with the same hue as her eyes.
“Ready?”
Ben caught the color of the dress in the mirror and turned, then saw her. The light made her hair shine like spun gold. Everything about her was made even more radiant in that moment. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
My god.
Jesse had been slowly pacing the room, trying to pretend the air wasn’t heavy between him and Ben. He couldn’t help shooting a couple glances at Ben’s back, though. He hadn’t thought Ben could pull off sophisticated. He was wrong.
Claire’s entrance into the room was like a breath of air, and Jesse paused before grinning wide, very glad he didn’t have to sneak admiring glances at her.
“You look so good in that, I wanna tear it right off you,” he teased, walking over and giving her neck a kiss. The moment Jesse stepped in, the spell was broken. Ben turned away and swallowed, fighting off the complicated emotions as he checked his pockets for the keys.
Claire’s shoulders straightened with the chill his kiss shot down her spine. She turned a grin up at him and arched a brow. “Well let me get a few miles in it first--it cost more than the rest of my wardrobe.”
“Party pooper,” he said, even as he pulled back with a grin. “I’m ready, you’re ready, Ben’s ready.” He allowed himself a look at the other man, his eyes flitting quickly down the perfectly tailored suit. “Should probably get going.”
“If you guys would rather stay behind, I can just go play poker,” Ben mumbled with a bit of a shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me.” Claire headed his way, leaning in to his shoulder on her way to the door.
“Liar,” she whispered gently, just for him, ending the statement with a sweep of her lips on his. She pulled back, giving him a smile. “C’mon. I wanna show you off.”
The faintest burn of red spread across the bridge of his nose from one cheek to the other. “You really do look beautiful, Claire.”
With all the acts she’d pulled, reactions she’d faked in order to do her job, she found that particular genuine compliment hard to react to, verbally. Her chest constricted, and put real warmth behind her lengthened smile. Claire laced their fingers together, giving him a squeeze.
Jesse’s stomach gave a little twist, his eyes lingering on their hands, but he pushed it down. “How the fuck long does it take to go through a door?” he said, giving Claire a playful little shove. “C’mon, before Vegas gets good without us.”
***
He’d seen movies and television shows that took place in Las Vegas poker rooms before, but nothing really could prepare Ben for what reality was like. There were so many people crowding the small spaces that it almost made it hard to even breathe. Getting to a table just to play was an obstacle, but once he was settled in, all the background noise faded from his mind. It was one of the only things he was genuinely good at that didn’t require putting his own life or the lives of others at risk, and it showed on in his eyes. He would have smiled, but smiling wasn’t exactly something a person did while playing poker.
Once the cards were dealt -- two down, one up (six of spades) -- Ben reached for his cards and gave them a quick glance. He just barely bit back a smirk, sliding them down on the table again and waiting until the lowest top card player placed their bet before adding in his.
“So do they flip over the two cards that are facedown, or do they stay down?” Jesse whispered close into Claire’s ear. They were far enough from the table that no one was likely to think they were helping someone cheat, but he figured it was better to keep his complete lack of knowledge about the game on the down ow. Plus it meant he had an excuse to lean in close to Claire.
“They stay down until the hand is called,” she whispered back, canting her head a bit toward Jesse from their vantage point above the table. Separated by a railing, the high roller’s and VIP section was sunk half a floor from the rest of the casino, giving the illusion of some expensively decorated, neon lighted gladitorial arena. The cinch of her waist leaned against the railing, most of her turned into Jesse--a stance that kept leerers, players, and other stragglers well enough away from them, but her eyes were on Ben.
“He’s riding the lowest bid, I bet.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile, which seemed connected to one arched brow. “Not drawing attention to himself, or his hand.”
“Now you’re just making it sound dirty.” Jesse’s smile matched hers, his hand going to her hip even as he looked back down at the table. Claire leaned against him, chuckling low.
“You sure that’s not just your perspective?” she teased, though the velvet whisper made it clear she was of the same mind, but she interrupted before he had a chance to respond. “I was right.” Ben anted, and raised, but just barely. She tracked his gaze to the older gentleman across from him, then on reflex, looked to see if she could pick out his hand. All she could discern was that he held a spade. Claire pointed at him discreetly with a nod.
“I’ll bet he folds first.”
Ben tapped his chips briefly, then ran the top of his teeth along his lower lip in thought before dropping his cards down on the table, face down.
“Well that’s boring,” Jesse said, disappointed. Claire snorted faintly.
“Not when it’s a grand per chip you’re playing with,” she looked up at him, smirking. Of course, he could replicate one (or a hundred) of those chips without blinking an eye--that was still difficult to wrap her head around. “Working for it makes it better.”
Jesse raised an uncertain eyebrow at her. “That’s generally code for ‘this is going to be really long and boring.’ Is this going to be really long and boring?” She sighed and shook her head, looking back down at Ben, who’d just taken the pot with a small flush.
“Is there anything you’ve wanted that you weren’t able to just--make happen?” Her voice was lower, but genuinely inquisitive.
Thrown by the question, it was a moment before Jesse could answer. “Sure. There’ve been things.”
“Did you get them?” Claire’s eyes were on him again.
Jesse smiled. “No. Aside from this,” he said, gesturing between them. “And I’m still not sure I’m not just fucking with your mind.”
Claire’s smile stayed warm, even if it faded a little. Uncomfortable words, but only on the surface.
“I know what your ‘mind control’ feels like, on the receiving end.” She gave him a light nudge with her elbow, emphasizing her point with a little bedroom humor. “And this isn’t it. You worry over nothing.”
Biting his bottom lip as his smile grew, Jesse turned his attention to the game, leaning on the railing. Claire, however, stayed on topic.
“You know how hard you would’a had to work to keep my hands over my head without the hocus-pocus?” The warmth in her voice remained, even edging on a bit of heat. She had a point, and knowing Jesse--she was using sexuality to make it.
That definitely got his attention, his hip moving to rest against hers. “Yeah. Wouldn’t have been able to eat you out or anything fun.” She snickered under her breath, settling against him.
“Oh, you could have,” she whispered, still watching Ben from their higher view, and letting her hand trail over Jesse’s at her hip. “May’ve taken longer, but think of it this way--” Her fingertips dipped between his. “Remember the first time you pinned me? Remember what it felt like?”
He swallowed, feeling a little heat rise to his cheeks. “Well, yeah.”
“Didn’t want to let go, did you.”
His hand twisted over hers, running up her bare arm. “No,” he said, his voice low. Her smile lengthened, chasing the tingle left by the trail of his touch. Ben was watching the dealer with an intensity in his gaze that added to that heat of pride that spread across her cheeks.
“That’s what I mean,” she whispered, settling the back of her head against Jesse’s shoulder.
Jesse frowned slightly, trying to piece the thoughts together. “...Did I go too fast? Because you can tell me.”
Once again, Claire sighed endearingly. Chalk-full of inhuman abilities and everything that came with that particular curse, and even as she failed to explain an aspect of his own humanity to him, Jesse was still susceptible to the weaknesses of Men.
“Jess--” she finally tore her eyes from Ben, confident he wouldn’t need them to intervene with anything soon. They pointedly made contact with Jesse’s. “To work for something that you want--then want it more once you have it; that’s your human side. Demons, angels...they don’t have that.”
The uncertainty only deepened in Jesse’s eyes. “But I have you. And I want you more. That’s what you’re talking about?”
“You didn’t always have me,” she gave him a quirky smile. “Not in the beginning.”
Ben suddenly let out a loud whoop from the table and threw his arms up. “Hell yeah! Goddamn, that’s a lotta money! Thank you very much, Pete! I’ll color up, if you don’t mind.”
Jesse’s gaze jerked that direction, though his expression was tense. What was Claire saying? That you had to work to be human? But he hadn’t ever worked at anything before.
“Hey, you made me miss the good part,” he said, pinching her hip and hoping that would derail the subject. “Looks like victory drinks are in order, though. You want something?”
Changing the subject--definitely a man. Claire’s smile was close-lipped, but she nodded after a moment. “Surprise me.”
Ben collected his winnings and stood from the table, a lift to his step. His eyes scanned the nearby crowd, partly looking for another open table and partly looking for his friends. He spotted them first, then flashed a boyish grin.
Jesse grinned back, though he had a feeling Ben’s smile was meant more for Claire. “Alright, surprise it’ll be,” he said, turning and heading for the bar.
***
It took Lucas three trips to bring everything into the living room, spreading notes and books of various degrees of deterioration across the coffee table. He was practically bouncing with each step. From his spot leaning against the wall, Jesse was only just holding back a smirk.
“You guys brought me a real stumper,” he said, finally sitting down with a grin. “I mean, as far as I can tell, these could be run-of-the-mill demons just pulling off something we’ve never heard of before. I have some options, though.”
“Options are good,” Ben replied with a nod, sitting up from his slouch in the armchair and pulling his legs back in against it. “‘Cuz I’m still sold on them not being run-of-the-mill grunts.”
“Me too,” Claire chimed in, though quietly. She folded her arms across her chest and shifted weight, leaning on a support beam nearby.
“Well, the first thing that comes to mind is an incubus. The thing I can’t get over, though, is that this just isn’t how incubi work,” he said, arms spread wide as he leaned forward. “They generally target just one woman at a time, the nicer ones in their sleep. A whole group like this, I can’t find any reference for, although the mindlessness you described kind of sounds like the long-term effect of incubi and succubi.”
Ben frowned a little, his eyes drifting off to the floor. His voice was low and barely a mutter when he spoke: “Incubi and succubi don’t possess people, though.” Claire’s eyes glazed, then sharpened a bit--but they remained on Lucas.
“Not necessarily.” Lucas practically beamed as he opened the oldest tome to a yellow post-it note. “The Malleus Malificarum mentions they can be beaten with exorcism. That might imply that they can possess if they want. And if the goal is pregnancy, their needing human sperm would make sense.”
“Do you know of anyone who’s seen one?” Claire asked, picking her words a bit carefully.
“Not personally, no. Stories I’ve heard were always friend of a friend type of things, y’know?” he said with a shrug.
Ben chewed his lip, making a show of considering the option even though he knew it wasn’t so. “Did you have any other theories aside from incubi and succubi?”
“Well, there’s something I came across, but I don’t even know if they’re real. Never heard of a hunter coming across them, at least. Grigori. You know the term at all?” he asked, looking between Ben and Claire. It was clear even to him that Jesse wasn’t much a part of the conversation.
Claire’s eyes squinted slightly, triggered by an old, old Catholic School memory. “Watchers?” Ben shrugged slightly, though his eyes spanned between Claire and Lucas both.
“Yeah, those. They were angels,” Lucas said, eyes on Ben. “But then they decided they wanted to get down with some human ladies. God didn’t like it and they were sent packing. It’s kind of like the Lucifer story but like the teen boy version.” Claire felt a little sick.
Ben’s jaw tightened and his smile was anything but friendly and amused. “Fantastic. So we’ve got a choice between horny, creepy demon-monsters and horny, creepy demon-angels. This is the best summer vacation ever.” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “S’there any way to kill them?”
Lucas gave a breath of a laugh. “Even references to them are few and far between. I haven’t found any reference to killing them. But since they’re fallen angels, best bet is to kill them like you would an angel. And good luck with that.”
“They’d probably hang around demons, right? Like, really powerful ones?” Jesse piped up suddenly.
Raising an eyebrow, Lucas said, “Probably. I’m not exactly well-versed in the social structure of Hell, but neighbors are neighbors, right?”
“Sounds like they’re the best fit,” Claire added quietly, and without color. “Definitely enough to keep looking deeper.”
Ben chewed on his lips and remained quiet, though his mind buzzed with a thousand questions. Dean would know what to do. Dean would have the answers, or at least a clue as to what to do next. He took a breath then let it out, rubbing his forehead absently with one hand before abruptly standing.
“Where’s your bathroom?”
“Oh. Just down the hall first right,” Lucas said, pointing. Ben nodded in thanks and headed off down the hall, his hand dipping deep into his pocket to find his cellphone as he disappeared from sight. Claire watched him go without moving her head, and finally switched her gaze back to Lucas.
“You haven’t come across anything like this, ever before?”
Lucas shook his head, his expression regretful. “No. If you’ll excuse the language, the whole situation’s pretty fucked up. A compound of brainwashed, mutilated pregnant women? Sounds like something people would do.”
Claire had to fight the sick twist of her stomach with a swallow she hoped no one in the room noticed, however reflexive it might’ve been. But in Lucas’s dark observation came a realization of her own: It did sound like cult behavior. And cults usually followed old, obscure pieces of religious lore. Obscure, like the Grigori.
“It definitely wasn’t people this time,” she started, pushing off the beam to approach Lucas and glance over the hurricane of notes. “You said the Grigori violated women--was there mention of offspring?”
“Yeah,” he said, hesitating. “Nephilim. Depending on the text, they were giants or heroes. Kind of super human. But I really don’t think this is taking us the right way. After all, if there were these kind of creatures out there, wouldn’t we know about it?”
Where he stood, Jesse stopped breathing. Claire fought the very strong urge to look up at the other man. Her eyes went a little unfocused with the effort, but she corrected them after a moment, and brought them up to Lucas.
“Anything’s possible,” she said with confidence. “Not like things don’t make it under our radar.”
Lucas smiled. “Well my radar’s a bit wider than yours, but yeah, I suppose it’s possible.”
Ben came back around the corner, his face drawn and his expression unreadable. He paused in the archway, not quite looking at anybody.
“What’d I miss?’
“Offspring of the Grigori--supposed to be super-human. Giants, or something.” Claire watched Ben from Lucas’s side, studiously. Ben turned his gaze to Lucas with a cocked eyebrow.
“This another legend, or is there some fact in it?”
“Legend as far as I know. Never even heard a hunter whisper a story heard from a friend of a friend of a cousin’s roommate.”
At that joke, Ben snickered slightly. “Yeah well, they said the same thing about angels. So while I’m not thrilled by the idea of new and exciting things to kill, I’m pretty sure we haven’t all seen everything yet.”
“Right then,” Jesse said, straightening from the wall and pushing his hands into his pockets. His movements were stiff and his jaw was tight. “So we’ve got the possibility of a rumor. Cheers. Can we go back to the city, now?” Claire’s look lingered on Jesse’s obvious irritation for a moment longer than she anticipated. She cleared her throat, as if that’d reset her train of thought. Unfortunately it didn’t work very well.
“M’starving anyway,” she said flatly, a courteous smile given to Lucas. “Keep up on it for us?”
“Yeah. I’ll see what more I can find,” Lucas said, his gaze flicking to Jesse for just a moment. “I’ll just get all the information I can since you’re leaning towards the Grigori, too. Learned pretty early that it was good to trust a hunter’s instinct.”
“You’re gonna have to tell us your intro story one of these days,” Ben said with a slight arch to his brows and a half-smile. He didn’t press it, though; most of the stories on how a person got involved in monsters and hunting them were never very pleasant. “I’ll be sure to bring the booze when you feel up to sharing.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lucas said, smiling back.
TO BE CONTINUED...