Supernatural: Next Generation

( Somewhere between Chackbay and Arlington )

- THEN -

NOW

Ben sucked in a sharp breath as he startled awake. It took a minute for him to catch his breath and reorient himself to his surroundings.

He’d had the nightmare again. It’d been months since the last time he’d had it, but there it was, the last strained sound of his mother’s scream echoing through his head. He could feel Jesse’s body pressed against him, warm and breathing slow, but when he turned toward where Claire was supposed to be he found the spot cold. It was only then that he recognized the muted blue light of a laptop screen. Looking up, he could see Claire hunched over it.

“Hey, why’re you awake?” he called out in a loud whisper, his voice still gritty from sleep.

Where do I start, Claire thought silently as a natural reaction, but merely blinked tiredly at the screen before turning a half-look toward Ben’s heavy voice. “Digging deeper into something that caught my eye earlier,” she answered, keeping her voice low. Ben carefully adjusted Jesse’s arm from around him and eased carefully away, rolling off the bed. The floor creaked quietly underneath his bare feet as he moved over to where she was sitting, his hands gently coming to rest on her shoulders.

“It can’t wait until morning?” he asked quietly, his voice a little louder now that he was closer to her. The weight of his hands was comforting, like a blanket lulling her to give in and go back to bed--but her brain wasn’t about to relent. It hadn’t properly shut up in a long time.

Claire shook her head, but pointed with her ring finger at the screen. “I think I found a reason why three ancient Greek monsters are terrorizing Redneckville, Alabama.” There in the prominent window was an Arlington Times article showcasing the Birmingham branch of the Smithsonian, and its featured Echos of Olympus exhibit, which was staying there for three months before moving on toward New Orleans. Ben bent down over her shoulder to look, frowning slightly.

( “But I thought they were monsters. If they’re attached to an object, wouldn’t that make it more like a haunting?” )

***

Claire had insisted on doing more research, so it had been up to Jesse and Ben to go investigate the museum the following day. It certainly wasn’t atypical of a hunt, but Ben certainly felt that it was better to turn every stone than to potentially miss something. Still, it felt weird approaching the desk, paying admission, getting the stamp... he hadn’t gone to a museum since he was a kid, and even then he remembered being bored out of his mind. Thankfully they weren’t going to stay for long.

Jesse was all but running through the museum, always a step or two ahead of Ben and totally focused on following the directions they’d figured out from the map. He wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as they could. Leaving Claire alone sat about as well with him as a brick in his stomach.

The Echos of Olympus exhibit had a grand, Parthenon-y entrance that Jesse breezed right by. And then he stopped. The thing was huge, and it looked there wasn’t just one room in the exhibit. “Any kind of clue what kind of thing we’re looking for?” he asked Ben, slightly breathless.

( “None whatsoever,” Ben answered, feeling a drop in his stomach. )

****

It was only a matter of finding the right thing to look for. Once they had determined the creatures running amok in Arlington were harpies, finding all the information on her custom configured network of databases was simple. It was sifting through all the lore, myth, and actual truths that took time--which is why she opted to stay behind. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep and constant uncomfortable buzzing under her skin was making sitting still for too long simply impossible.

On her way back from a short break at the motel vending machines, Claire rounded the corner to their room, making sure the orange fizz bubbling from her open soda didn’t spill on her shoes. Movement in the background of her field of vision had her pause, though. A pair of legs shifted weight, standing directly in front of the door she was heading toward.

“Alice Halstead?” the first suited man called out. ( “FBI, open the door.” )

***

( Once upon a time, Ben used to be excellent at working over people. )

****

As if the last two hours hadn’t been stressful enough, Claire’s muscles had knotted up double for the fact that the circumstances left her in the transit without a car. Granted, she was glad the GTO wasn’t in the parking lot when the Feds came knocking. Truth be told, she was actually a little amazed she got away without them giving her a second glance; surely that good luck won’t be repeated if they caught up to her in this town. By now, they had to have a description--and it would match the sweet southern Sally that pointed them down the interstate.

Which was the reason for a stop at the local mall, after the new hotel had been procured (using a completely new identity). Claire now sat in the far corner booth of the diner close to the new place; sporting a look she thought completely opposite of what the law would be looking for. With streaks of bright green and pink mussed through her natural blond hair, heavy eyeliner, and the purposefully dark (and in some places, torn) clothing, ‘rebellious youth’-Claire tensely sipped at a mug of coffee around an uncomfortable false lip ring... looking very much unapproachable.

Walking through the diner door, Jesse did a poor job of not looking overly concerned as he scanned the place. It was mid-afternoon and not very busy, so it was short work in seeing that Claire wasn’t there yet. ( “Should we give her a call?” )

***

His heart thumping harder than the bass, Jesse’s eyes were overly wide as he moved through the dance floor. Being the lure was probably his least favorite job, but he was the only one the harpies got a look at. Of course, it didn’t make him all that comfortable that he only ever got a look at one of them. The other two could be anyone.

But at least he’d already spotted the one he knew. More importantly, he’d made sure she spotted him. Now to get back to the car and hope the girls were pissed enough to still want a piece of him.

Stepping into the sweltering night, he tried to keep his calm as he headed back towards Ben and Claire. Despite himself, his steps were quick, and they were also being followed; not from just inside the club foyer, where a tall brunette in violet stilettos trailed him through the crowd, but from each side on the walk that cut through the entertainment district of Arlington.

He was just within sight of the car when the familiar harpy called out to him: (  “Back for more, are you? You’re not getting away so easily this time, sweetie.” )

****

Jesse’s hands shook slightly as he cut open the thistle, carefully squeezing what liquid he could from it. “Right,” he breathed, tossing the bud aside before spinning the jar three times clockwise.

He looked over at the notebook, where Claire had written out the incantation. He was pretty sure he had it down. The lid lay right by it, and the knife on top of that. Now all he needed was the harpies.

On cue, he heard the distance roar of the GTO’s engine. His heart leapt. Not that he’d doubted a moment that Ben and Claire would be fine. But he felt better as the car screeched into the clearing with Claire half hanging out the passenger side window, hanging on to the rear view mirror with one hand and aiming a gun with the other.

Another shot rang out, slamming the winged creature on the roof of the car in the shoulder joint right before the talons closed around her arm. Ben threw the door open, just barely aiming before he fired his gun at the harpy’s leg.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jesse hissed, running forward. He’d expected the harpies to be quick, but not literally on top of them. The panic ratcheting up his throat, he yelled the first order to come to mind. “DON’T MOVE!”

The sheer force of the words hit Claire’s every muscle, freezing her, and apparently everyone else, in place. One of the harpies, having been mid-flight, fell to the ground. Her eyes went wide, meeting Ben’s equally frozen gaze, then locked on her precarious grip on the mirror, the only thing holding her upright.

( “/Specifics/, Jesse!” she barked in a bit of panic. )

***

( “It’d have to be airtight, but strong enough to stand the concrete moving like that.” )

****

It shouldn’t have bothered Claire that the vending machine was out of what she was really craving, but it did. She cracked the seal on some generic brand of cola and took a reluctant sip, rounding the motel corner toward the walk that led back to the room. The hunt was over, for the most part--they’d be leaving soon, and the edge to her nerves could soften a little bit with every mile they put between themselves and this town. As she brought her eyes up from the ground, however, she found them settled immediately on the two federal agents in her path. The same two from earlier. This time their guns made an appearance.

“Hands were we can see ‘em,” the taller agent said, his voice low but as sharp as a knife.

Fuck! She complied slowly, still palming the open soda in one hand as it raised to shoulder level; a million and one thoughts buzzing through her head, and all drowned out by the automatic repeat of various curse words.

“C’mon now, boys,” she said, her voice tight. “You don’t need those.”

“We’ll be the judge of that, ma’am. Put down the pop,” the second man said, his feet shifting. Claire stitched her brows together at them, completely fine with showing a little more of her true anxiety and agitation. Normally, she’d talk her way out of this, but the chances of that happening a second time with these two all but disappeared.

“You gonna shoot me for holdin’ a ‘pop’, Slick?” she countered defiantly, her feet planted where she was. If they wanted her, they’d have to come and get it.

The taller agent’s eyes narrowed. ( “You’ve killed for less, isn’t that right, Claire?” )

****

Claire was finally getting her wish: they were leaving the city of Arlington behind, with an hour or two of darkness left before the sun would blanch the horizon. However, she was clearly far from as elated as she’d expect. They’d left in such a hurry, she hadn’t even changed out of her blood stained clothes, now turning deep brown and black as they dried. She could smell it on herself; stale and coppery and mixed with dirt and sweat. She felt the ghost of pain where Kadiel had stitched her together; as if pain left its impression in guilt. She should be in pain. And in many senses, she still was. Claire hadn’t said a word since the parking lot, and within fifteen minutes on the open road, emotional and physical exhaustion finally overtook her, leaning against the window in the back seat.

Jesse, on the other hand, had hardly stopped talking. His words were frenetic, not unlike his driving. It had been years since he’d physically crossed paths with an angel, and he’d gotten distracted and let her get away. If that thing was so concerned with Claire, it was a safe bet she wouldn’t be leaving them be.

“We should get out of the country, that would be safer,” he said, changing lanes to pass a slow car. “Some place unexpected, where they won’t be looking.”

“They’re angels, man,” Ben replied. ( “They’re not just limited to one continent.” )

Think before you shoot. Ben and Claire had ingrained that in him before he’d even picked up a gun. You couldn’t take back a bullet so be certain before you pull the trigger.

He thought he understood what they meant. He was wrong.

Curled up against the wall, his eyes kept wandering to the six little bodies. Sometimes the flickering candlelight made it look like one moved, sending a spark of hope through his spine that reality quickly shattered.

He held Claire’s phone in his hand. He didn’t know how long he’d had it out now, unable to dial Ben’s number. What would they say when they found out what he’d done? Could they even look at him the same? He wanted so desperately to call them, to have them tell him what to do to make it better, but what could they do? He was much more powerful than them, and he couldn’t do anything. What he needed was someone even stronger than himself.

Someone stronger...

He scrabbled for his wallet, pulling out the card with a sigil on it. Inside he knew it was desperate, and probably dangerous, but what other choice did he have?

With Claire’s trunk stockpile, Jesse had no problem getting oil of Abramelin and powdered Acacia. Bringing them back into the house, he set about putting things together in silent determination.

Kneeling on the floor before the chalk circle, he only hesitated a moment before setting the card on fire, the chalice glowing with the flames.

( “Well, that was a lot sooner than I expected.” )

***

( Jesse hardly said two words through the whole process of burning Allweather’s body and returning the kids to their homes... )

***

When they’d finally escaped the heat wave of the South, Ben took the first exit off the highway and headed for a nearby hotel. They all needed a good night’s rest, Jesse especially, and he wanted to take a couple days to work on the GTO while they started checking for leads on the demon again. It sucked not having a full garage at his disposal, but the nearby salvage yard was just as easy a place to work as any, and with the convenience of being able to locate any parts he could make off with for a decent price. It took about three hours to figure out just what all the GTO needed and to find all the parts he could before hunger started kicking in, and a quick chat with the salvage yard’s owner gave him safe passage to return the following day so he could start working. He made sure to stop at a nearby burger joint to pick up dinner as he was passing through town.

From the moment they walked into the new hotel room, Claire was already aware of another phantom smell, something that seemed to happen every three or four places they stopped. Usually she described it as mildly rotten, or stale, or ‘organic’ smelling, which usually meant some form of body odor. This time she was reminded of cooking cabbage, a meal she detested as a child. Rather than complain, she simply lit the lilac candle carried around in her duffel and opted to escape the room while it took effect. In the meantime, it turned out to be a gorgeous day, if a little on the hot side; Claire found herself pool-side, stretched on a towel, two-piece and laptop in place.

( She heard her car’s signature rumble roll up the parking lot hill and die in a space close to the pool’s chain link fence, even over the music pumped from ear-buds that disappeared under her hair. )

****

Even at 3 AM, the streets were sweltering, waves of heat pouring upwards off the asphalt. Which meant everyone was piled in the club, where the air conditioning at least made the heat drier. The smokers hovered around the doorway like moths, making escaping the club like squeezing through a smokey birth canal.

Which made it really easy to notice when a little, hot thing in a little, hot dress managed to make it through.

One smoker was set slightly away from the crowd, not seeming to mind the thin sheen of sweat that tightened his t-shirt to his skin. His eyes immediately flickered to the brunette as she clicked along in her stilettos and silver sequined dress that caught the light from the door. As she headed for the corner, he glanced back at the crowded doorway then moved to follow, flicking his cigarette aside.

“Hey, darlin’,” he called, his long stride making catching up to her pretty easy. “You got the time?”

The girl’s dark eyes snapped to her side, the space there now occupied by something she obviously had no intention of entertaining, by the look on her face. Her heels kept clicking in long, scissoring strides that off-set the swing of her arms and long, twitching hair. She shook her head decisively, and set her eyes forward.

( “Time to fuck-off, pal.” )

***

There was a definite sunburn blooming on Ben’s skin by the time he made it back to the hotel that afternoon, but at least the GTO was finished. He didn’t even feel a single bump on the drive back, which was saying something considering how bad it had been before. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Claire’s face when she got behind the wheel again.

Swiping the key through the electronic lock, Ben sighed in relief as the cool hotel air hit him all at once.

Laid out on the bed, his head hanging upside down off the end, Jesse rolled over as soon as Ben was through the door. “Finally,” he said, propping up on his elbows. “We have a car again?”

Claire bit back a subtle smirk at Jesse’s enthusiasm, but turned an expectant look at Ben, away from her laptop screen on the table. Ben tugged out the keys and gave them an underhand toss in her direction.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he replied. “Now with air conditioning!”

Jesse lifted a fist in victory. ( “Yes. You get treated special tonight.” )

***

The air conditioning worked overtime in places like this: the Coroner’s office and Morgue in the sublevels of a Birmingham hospital. It made the air oddly heavy, like being in a meat locker without the smell. And it was always just a little too quiet.

Claire, posing as Federal Agent Alice Halstead, stood with her hands lightly pushed into the pockets of her fitted charcoal trousers at the foot of a storage unit in the Morgue. Her hair sleeked back into a straight, no nonsense ponytail, and a pair of narrow glasses sat on her nose, filtering looks between Jesse and the Assistant Coroner who had escorted them in.

Feeling more comfortable in his role as Federal Agent James Spencer than he had the last time he had to put on the suit, Jesse was already leaning over the body bag as the coroner unzipped it. Turned out it was a bad idea.

( “Wow. You...you weren’t kidding when you said it looked like an animal attack.” )

***

The walk between the car and the hotel room was enough to remind them both that professional type clothing was not Southern Summer friendly. Claire felt like she was wrapped with a thin layer of film by the time the room’s A/C hit her like a wave of water, enough that she let out a very relieved breath. Ben was sitting in front of his monitor without a shirt on, hair pulled back with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked up immediately.

“Hey, how’d it go?”

“Our suspect is the Bird Man,” Jesse said, instantly stripping off his dress shoes and sweaty socks. “What’ve you been doing in front of the computer that’s got you so sweaty? Oh wait. Look who I’m talking to.” Jesse gave him a grin as he took off his button-down. Claire’s soundless chuckle disappeared in her breath as she stripped off her blazer and hung it up.

“It’s hot, shut up,” Ben snarked back, his sunburned cheeks flaring an even darker red. “A Bird Man? The hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Best guess, so far,” Claire injected, replacing the silk undershirt with a white wife-beater to keep the heat out. “Seriously looks like a pterodactyl got a’hold of these guys.” She wiggled out of the suit trousers and wandered across the room, effectively claiming the air conditioning vent for herself. ( “If pterodactyls had building-sized feathers.” )

****

At the risk of being watched --there was always a possibility when they were hunting creatures-- Ben had parked the GTO a block down, and they’d planned to stagger their heading into each of the clubs. It had taken three days of tracking to see who on their lists were regulars, and another four to figure out their schedules. In the passing of time, one more man ended up in the coroner’s office. They were all getting a little anxious about how long it was taking to catch the elusive killer in the act.

“If something happens, remember the drill,” Ben said lowly. Claire nodded without saying a word. Same as usual when they were headed into this part of the chase, she had her game-face on, though her eyes may’ve been slightly harder than usual. She was the first to break off from them, and disappeared into the small group of people filtering into the first club.

Jesse purposefully turned his back; otherwise he’d just watch her the whole way and not even be able to appreciate it. Anxiety gnawed at his gut at the idea of splitting up again, but he wasn’t about to say so to Ben. Ben’s hands settled on his shoulders, giving him a nod and a grim smile.

“Good luck,” he said solemnly. “Stay safe. See you in a few hours.”

“You too,” Jesse said, giving his hand a squeeze before heading towards the club he was supposed to scope out. The loud thudding of the music assaulted his ears the moment he was through the doors and had “paid” the cover, and the press of dancing bodies easily filled every possible open space. Normally it was the kind of place Jesse thrived in, but right now it was stifling. He took deep breaths and waded through the crowd, willing himself to go unnoticed. In his case, it was particularly effective.

It was a while before he finally caught sight of of their suspects-slash-impending victim. The guy, Marc Weston, was lounging against the wall, beer in hand, not really interacting with anybody. Sitting back against the bar, Jesse watched him for a while and started to notice a pattern. Marc kept looking up at intervals, always at the same spot. That spot being the women’s bathroom door, and the intervals being whenever women went in or out. ( /That’s not pervy at all./ )

TO BE CONTINUED...