Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Hunting Humanity IV	By : greenwizard11 Category: Supernatural > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1064 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Supernatural universe. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Dean sat at Sam’s bedside in the hospital. “Man, everything is so fucked up. You’re in here tied to a bed being force fed, and instead of Liam at home I’ve got a very confused and very scared wild animal that only Cas can communicate with.”

“He’s still not recharged from being empty?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “He’s not sleeping all the time anymore, so who the hell knows. Cas says he should be about good, but he’s still completely clueless and not him. He’s like Tarzan that’s just been brought out of the jungle. I was able to touch him yesterday without him trying to bite me, so there’s some progress.”

“Does Cas know if he will come back?”

“Nope. Astiratu has never been one hundred percent drained before, so no one knows anything. I wish to god we hadn’t gone after Raphael like that. I wanna kick Cas’ ass so bad, but I need him to communicate with Liam because I don’t know anyone else that speaks fluent Aramaic. They don’t even make a Rosetta Stone program for that. Sam, it kills me to look at him and see constant fear in his eyes because he has no idea what the hell is going on. I wanna hold and comfort him so bad, but one thing he has not forgotten is how to fight. We had to build a cage for him after he ran away.”

“Yeah, Natalie told me it took you three days to find him.”

“Yep, he was attacking a couple leaving a restaurant for their leftovers. It took a lot of charming to get them to not call the cops on my boyfriend who is having a psychotic break. Sammy… I just... everything is falling down around my ears here.”

Sam looked away for a minute. “Dean, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass about things. Liam was right, my head wasn’t clear. Over the last few days things have been coming into focus again. I want out of here, and more importantly, back in the fight.”

“You sure about that?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want me back?”

“I want to know your head is really in it and that I can count on you.”

Sam nodded. “You can. Give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“See if you can get them to spring you and we’ll talk.”

Sam did convince the doctor he was better enough to go home. Dean took him up to the bedroom where they were keeping Liam. “Dean?” they heard Liam’s voice as they reached the door. Dean turned to his brother. “Don’t get too excited, Tarzan learned Jane’s name.” As soon as they opened the door and Liam saw Sam the blond flung himself to the back corner and crouched, his eyes wild and panting heavily. A dog collar was around his neck. “See. Very scared. He knows he’s alive, and he knows what he needs, not much else.”

“What’s with the collar?” Sam asked.

“Out of cage things,” Cas answered from the bed. Then the angel turned to Liam and spoke a few words. “I told him you are a friend, but I wouldn’t get too near just yet. He sort of trusts us now. I was able to give him a much needed shower this morning.”

“Cas,” Liam called out and spoke to him.

Dean looked to Castiel. “He needs the toilet again and he’s hungry.”

Dean nodded. “You handle the toilet thing, I’ll go make him a sandwich.

Sam watched as Castiel slowly entered the cage with a leash and hooked it to the dog collar to lead Liam to the bathroom. “Is that really necessary?”

“If we don’t want him to make another run for it, yeah,” Dean answered. “For some unknown reason he’d rather be out there somewhere cold and hungry than in here warm and fed.”

“I wouldn’t want to be kept in a cage either,” Sam said as he followed his brother to the kitchen. “Hell, I know who I am and everything, and I really hated being chained to a bed. Not knowing you who you are and being surrounded by strange people you can’t communicate with, yeah, I’ll bet that’s scary.”

Dean made a turkey sandwich and they took it up. Liam was back in the cage and Castiel was sitting on the bed again. Dean motioned for Sam to stay back as he opened the cage door and held out the plate with the sandwich on it. “Food,” he said.

Liam grabbed the plate and retreated to the back of the cage where a mattress and a pillow was to eat. “How long do we wait?” Castiel asked.

“Cas, we are not killing him! I don’t care if he lives another seventy years and never gets his mind back.”

“You think making him live like this is a kindness? You expect me to just sit around here for seventy years to talk to him?”

“He learned English once, he can do it again. He’s a living human being, Cas, and a very scared one we are teaching to trust us. I’m not betraying the trust we’ve worked hard to build.”

“It can be made quick and painless. The problem here is you love the person he used to be. I am being practical.”

“It has nothing to do with the person he used to be,” Dean argued. “I am still praying that person comes back, yes, but I am not the kind of person to just up and kill a non evil living thing. Demons, shape shifters, vampires, oh hell yes, but his only crime is losing his mind because he did what you asked him to.”

“There are more important things for both of us to be doing, but I will give it a little while longer before I do it myself. Three more days at least.”

“Why do you have to be such a cold dick? He trusts you the most because he can talk to you.”

“You don’t understand. That is Lucifer’s vessel. Right now would be the perfect time for Lucifer to slip his way in there. Lucifer can speak Aramaic too, and has a gifted and charming tongue. With Liam being nothing more than a scared animal right now...”

Dean sighed. “So, that’s what this is about. You’d rather see the vessel dead than in Lucifer’s hands, screw who is inside it.”

“Do you want Lucifer inside there?”

“No, but… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine, we’ll give it three more days, then we’ll talk.”

Liam held the plate through the bars and Dean slowly reached to take it. Liam then curled up on the mattress to go to sleep. They left him and went back downstairs. Three hours later they heard shouting and banging. “Not again...” Dean groaned as he got up to go upstairs. “Cas, grab the sedative.”

When they got to the bedroom Liam was pulling at the bars. “Why the fuck am I in a cage with a collar around my neck” he asked.

“Liam?” Dean scarcely dared to believe it. “That really you in there?”

“Was I possessed again?”

Dean nodded. “You were, almost two weeks ago to fight an archangel. Then you um, kinda turned into a real life Tarzan.”

“Really?” Liam looked surprised.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, a happy tear in his eye. “You didn’t know who any of us were. I was so scared I’d never see you again.” Dean quickly opened the cage door and hugged Liam tight. “Here, let’s get that collar off you.” Dean pulled it off and tossed it aside. “Thank whatever deity is listening you came back. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Liam squeezed him back.

A few days later Dean was sitting on the couch with the laptop when Sam came down with John. “One clean baby,” Sam said as he sat beside Natalie and kissed her cheek.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Natalie asked.

“He tried to pee on me, but otherwise no. He loves baths. Hell, he loves anything involving physical contact. All the books say tummy time is important, but if you put him on his stomach on the floor he gets upset. If you lie on your back and put him on your chest he’s happy. Think we ruined him by holding him so much when we brought him home?”

“No,” Liam shook his head. “You can’t spoil a baby that young in my experience. Physical contact with the people in their lives is important too. I think it’s probably just part of his personality. Maybe as he gets older and stronger he’ll be more independent. For now, the world is what he can see, and when he can’t see his caretakers he doesn’t like it.”

“Guys, I think I may have found a good case for us,” Dean said from behind the computer screen. “Canton, Ohio, guy dies from injuries consistent with a high speed crash, but the car never left the garage. How’s that for weird?”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Sam agreed, “but that’s like a normal kind of case.”

“And?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Well, don’t you think we have bigger fish to fry right now?”

“Maybe, but that’s not what we’re going to do right now.”

“Why?” Liam asked.

Dean sighed. “Look, for the last little while I’ve been dealing with Ghandi and Tarzan with only Cas for support. Natalie, I know you would’ve let me lean on you, but you had your hands full with John. The kid has got to be a priority now. After our little group crash and burn I want us to ease back into things, you know, get our groove going again.”

“Okay,” Sam sighed. “We’ll pack tonight and go in the morning.”

Dean smiled as he closed the laptop and set it aside. “Good. Now, hand over the baby and no one gets hurt. After all that research I deserve a little cute time.” Sam handed John over reluctantly. “Oh, Sammy, he really does look like you did when you were a baby. Freaking adorable. Come on, John, Uncle Dean is gonna get you ready for bed and put you down until you get hungry again.”

They left after breakfast the next morning. When they arrived they grabbed a late dinner and a motel room, and were at the sheriff’s department bright and early the next morning dressed as FBI. “Good to know ya,” the sheriff greeted them, shaking their hands. “So you're here on account of Cal Hawkins' death?”

“That's right,” Sam nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid you came a long way for nothing. We already booked the guy that did it.”

They all looked at each other. “I'm sorry, who do you think did it?” Sam asked.

The sheriff took them into a little room and showed them a video shot by the guy they arrested that showed the aftermath of the crime. “Sicko taped his own handiwork. It was Jim Grossman that killed Cal.”

“Wait, what?” Dean looked surprised.

The sheriff pointed to the video. “Well, he was the only one on the scene for miles.”

“And how exactly did Jim slam Cal into a windshield with all the force of an eighty mile per hour crash?” Dean asked.

The sheriff blinked and shrugged. “Drugs, maybe? Look, you know this ain't brain surgery, boys. Whatever it looks like, that's what it usually is. It's simple.”

“Right. Um, if you don't mind indulging us, we'd like to speak to Jim Grossman anyway,” Liam said.

They were reluctantly let into the jail to talk to the guy. “I was in the house when it happened. I didn't even see it,” Jim insisted.

Dean looked at him. “For argument's sake, say we believe you.”

“Why would you? The cops didn't.”

“Well we're not your typical cops. Please, just tell us what you saw.”

Jim looked at them and sighed. “It's not what I saw, it's what I heard. Tires squealing, glass breaking. It was the car that did it.”

“The car?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

Jim swallowed hard. “I mean, I heard about the curse, but, I just thought it was a load of crap.”

“Curse, what do you mean curse?” Dean asked.

“The car. Little Bastard.”

“Wait, uh, what's Little Bastard?” Liam looked confused.

Dean smiled in spite of himself. “It's James Dean's car. It's the one he was killed in.”

“Yeah, that's the one,” Jim nodded. “Cal had been looking for it for years. I mean, hell, we both had. But he found it first.”

“I guess he wasn’t as lucky as he thought,” Liam commented.

Their next stop was the garage where the car was being kept. “Okay,” Liam sighed. “You seem to know about this car, so, enlighten me.”

“Well,” Dean looked at it with awe, “after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up. It repaid him by falling on him. And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack. I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece. Then, 1970, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since. I'm telling you, man, if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy.”

Liam studied it. “Well, before we go about figuring out how to destroy a car, how can we tell for sure?”

“Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number.”

“Engines have numbers?” Liam looked confused.

Dean shot him a look. “How is it you were around when the car was invented, but you know so little about them? Hell, you didn’t even know how to drive until a little over a year ago.”

Liam shrugged. “Jason tried to teach me, but after a ditch and then a tree he gave up and banned me from the driver’s seat.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, so, that actually makes five instructors that quit on you. I don’t get it, you’re good with computers and stuff like that, why were you so bad with cars?”

“Computers all you gotta do is push buttons. Nothing moves. Cars move, makes them a little more complicated.”

Dean shook his head. “You are a strange one,” he kissed Liam’s cheek, “but I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Dean took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Then he just kind of looked at the car. “Want me to do it?” Liam asked. “Doesn’t scare me. What?” he said when they gave him a funny look. “Isn’t a hunter that doesn’t scare easy a good thing?”

“It can be,” Dean nodded, “but a little fear, especially when it comes to things like curses, can be a healthy thing. Anyway, you didn’t even know engines had numbers, so I’ll do it.” He turned to the car. “Okay, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, so, don't hurt me.”

They jacked the car up and Dean rolled under it with a pencil and a piece of paper. After a minute Sam knelt down. “You uh, okay under there?”

“Don't speak,” Dean snapped. “Alright? In fact, don't even look at her, she might not like it.” Dean quickly got a copy of the number and slid back out. He handed the paper to Sam. “Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to 1955.”

Sam shot his brother a look. “That's a lot of research.”

“Well, I guess I just made your afternoon,” Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. “Come on, Liam.”

Dean took Liam to a bar for a bite to eat and a drink. After a few hours Sam called. “Hey. Took me a while, but I traced all the car's previous owners.”

“Any of them die bloody?” Dean asked.

“Nope. In fact the car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it until he died in 1972. That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been James Dean's car. It's a fake Little Bastard.”

“Well then what was it that killed the guy?” Dean asked.

“Good question,” Sam shook his head.

That night there was another very strange murder. They donned the FBI suits and showed up at the crime scene. “Heard you got another weird one,” Dean said to the sheriff.

“Uh, well, it's a little strange on the surface, I admit, but, uh, you know, once you look at the facts...” the sheriff seemed a little shaken.

Sam looked at him. “William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet.”

“Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation,” the sheriff insisted. “There always is.”

“Well, what's your reasonable explanation?” Dean asked.

The sheriff looked around a minute. “Professional killer.”

“Right,” Liam nodded. “Well, why don’t we just have a look see anyway?”

They took a look around the room, then went to talk to the witness. She was outside on a bench wrapped in a blanket speaking Spanish. “Consuela Alvarez?” Dean said as they approached her.

“Yes?” she looked up.

“FBI.” They showed their badges. “Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?”

She stared speaking in Spanish again. Somehow Sam was able to understand her a little. “Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall, with a long black coat and a, a beard.”

“Y un sombrero,” the maid nodded.

“Dude was wearing a sombrero?” Dean looked confused.

“I think she means a hat,” Sam said.

“Un sombrero alto.”

“A tall hat?” Sam looked at her.

“Oh, like a top hat,” Dean nodded.

“Muy alto!” she made a gesture above her head.

“What, you mean like a stovepipe hat? Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln.”

Consuela started sobbing again. “Sí. El Presidente Lincoln! Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill! So I go home now?”

“Uh, sí. Gracias,” Sam nodded.

They went back to the motel and Sam pulled out his laptop for research. Dean also pulled out one. “Where’d you get that?” Sam asked.

“It fell from space,” Dean answered sarcastically. “Where do you think? Natalie bought it for me when it looked like I was going to be working by myself.”

“It doesn’t bother you to have her just spend a bunch of money on us like that?”

“It still bothers you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t make her, and I didn’t ask her to. It just came to the doorstep one day and she gave it to me. She up and bought two when she bought that one for John she plays music for him with.”

A little smile appeared on Sam’s lips. “He does like music, all kinds.”

“Whoa,” Dean said and started playing with Jim Grossman's video he was watching.

“What?” Sam asked.

Dean turned the screen around and pointed to a very fuzzy reflection of a figure in a red jacket in the frame. “Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?”

“That looks like James Dean,” Sam nodded.

“So, what?” Liam looked to his companions. “Famous people are coming back to kill random people?”

“Well, that's just silly,” Dean shook his head.

Sam shrugged. “No, actually, uh, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before.”

“Yeah, but now we got two of them?” Dean looked a little skeptical. “Two extremely pissed off ghosts?”

“Who are apparently ganking their fans. Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln.”

Dean nodded. “And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car. So you're saying we've got two super famous, super pissed off ghosts killing their super fans?”

Sam shrugged. “That's what it looks like.”

Dean got up to get a drink. “The big question is, what the hell are they doing here?”

“That’s what is getting me,” Liam said as he too got up off the bed to get a soda. “Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House...”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Sam said suddenly.

“What?” Dean looked at him.

“There’s a wax museum in town,” Sam answered.

They went to check it out because that was their best lead. “Don’t wanna...” Liam clung to the car door. “Wax museums are creepy.”

Dean pressed his body against him and looked him in the eye. “Don’t tell me Mr. ‘I’m not scared of anything’ is scared of some wax dummies.”

“I didn’t say they were scary, I said they were creepy. There’s a difference.”

“Well, you’re part of the team, you’re going,” Dean pried him away from the car and pushed him inside.

They walked around while they waited for the owner. “See, they’re all staring at me,” Liam looked very uneasy.

“Babe, they’re wax. Wax doesn’t stare.”

The owner finally came in wearing a leather jacket. “Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year. So, what can I do for you?”

Sam smiled at him. “Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine.”

“Yeah, on how, uh, totally non sucky wax museums are,” Dean added.

The owner grinned. “That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need.”

“Great,” Sam nodded. “Well, we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean.”

“Two of our most popular displays.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam perked up. “So they bring in a lot of visitors?”

“Yeah, we have our regulars.”

“I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?” Dean asked.

The owner nodded. “As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh, you, that's not gonna be in the article, is it?”

“No, of course not,” Sam assured him. “Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum unusual? You know, for the article?”

The owner nodded. “Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere.”

“How so?” Dean asked.

“Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat.”

“It is?” Sam looked to his brother. “You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?”

“Oh, yeah,” the owner nodded. “Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung.”

They thanked the owner and went back to the motel. “Something is still bothering me,” Liam said as he flopped down on the bed.

“What’s that?” Dean asked.

“Can’t put my finger on it, but why would James Dean and Abraham Lincoln all of a sudden go kill crazy?”

“The apocalypse?” Dean shrugged.

“Do we really have to go back there tonight?”

“Yes,” Dean said as he got on the bed and kissed Liam. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the evil creepy wax.”

They broke in later that night and Sam grabbed a metal trash can. Dean took the hat off the Lincoln and put it on his head. “Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat,” he imitated Lincoln. Liam laughed but Sam raised an eyebrow. “We can't have any fun with this?”

“Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?”

Dean sighed and tossed the hat in the can. “Let’s go grab East of Eden's keychain,” he said to Liam. Liam stayed close while they went into the other room.

When they returned Sam was being choked by Ghandi. “Get the-” Sam pointed the statue before the was elbowed in the chest and winded.

Liam grabbed the glasses off the statue and tossed them into the can and Dean squirted lighter fluid on everything and lit it. Ghandi disappeared and Sam started gasping for air. Dean shot his brother a look. “Fitting.”

“Shut up,” Sam growled.

They went back to the motel for some sleep, and started packing everything up in the morning. “Ready to blow this joint?” Dean said to Sam when he came in.

Sam looked at him. “Dean, didn't it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just vanished? No screaming, no big flame out, I mean, that isn't the way ghosts usually go.”

Dean shrugged. “Still, I torched, he vanished.”

Sam sighed. “Also, I feel like he was trying to take a bite out of me. Look, I'm just saying I'm not so sure this thing is over.”

“Me either,” Liam confessed. “I’m with Sam.”

“It was a ghost,” Dean insisted. “Now let's go.”

“So first you drag us into town, and now you're dragging us back out,” Sam sighed.

“You two ain't steering this boat. Let's go, chop chop.” Dean headed for the door.

“You know, this isn't gonna work,” Sam sat on the bed.

Dean stopped and turned. “What isn't?”

“Us together. I wanted it to, but...”

“Yeah,” Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Who died and made you king?”

Dean looked back and forth between them. “So, you two are staging a coup?”

“More like drawing a line in the sand,” Sam said. “Look, I know things went really far south. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier. But Dean, one of the reasons I did what I did was to do something you couldn’t control.”

Dean moved to sit on the bed with them. “What are you saying?”

“We don’t want to be lackeys,” Liam said. “If we’re gonna be a team, we want to be equals. We’re both trying to say something doesn’t quite fit here, and you’re ignoring us. We don’t like it.”

“Dean, it’s been like this since I can remember. You’ve always been the take charge older brother, and I’ve been the tag along kid. But, look around you. I’m a grown man with a family. Let me grow up in your eyes too.”

“So, you’re saying everything is my fault?” Dean got a little defensive.

“We’re not placing blame here,” Liam reached out to take his hand. “I guess you just want to protect us, but Dean, you can place us under an iron fist and that won’t keep us from getting hurt. That would just tear us apart. We just want things to change a little.”

Dean sighed deeply, then his phone rang. He answered it and had a very short conversation. “I guess you two were right about this not being over.”

They went back to the sheriff’s station. “Sheriff Carnegie?” Sam approached him. “What happened?”

The sheriff shook his head. “I uh, I don’t know!” He motioned to two crying young women in an interview room.

They entered the room. “Excuse us, girls. Hi, we're with the FBI,” Dean flashed a little smile. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“It was horrible!” one of the girls cried.

“What was horrible?” Sam asked.

“I thought she'd be nice!”

“I still can't believe it,” the second girl shook her head. “She took Danielle!”

“It's okay,” Sam assured them. “You're safe, just tell us. Who took your friend?”

“It was Paris Hilton,” the second girl whimpered.

The three men looked at each other. “Uh, where did they go?” Sam asked.

“We don't know,” the first girl shook her head. “They just vanished.”

“Would you excuse us for just a minute?” Dean pulled his companions into the hall. “Paris Hilton's not dead as far as we know, right?”

“Who’s Paris Hilton?” Liam asked.

Dean sighed. “I don’t know exactly, some rich and famous woman. But this means we aren’t dealing with a ghost. We missed something.” He turned to Sam. “What do you wanna do?”

“I’m thinking I need to take a trip to the morgue while you two hit the books,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Dean nodded and took Liam back to the motel.

“I can't believe I missed it,” Sam sighed when he returned from the morgue.

“Missed what?” Liam looked up from his book.

“Went back over the other two victims. There was blood loss. Major. I mean more blood loss than a car crash or a head wound should cause, almost like...”

“Something's feeding,” Dean finished the sentence. “Awesome.”

“And then there were these,” he pulled out a plastic bag with some kind of seeds in them. “They were in both victims’ bellies.”

Dean made a disgusted face. “I hope you washed your hands.”

Sam sat at his laptop. “Time to find out what these things are.” He set them out on the table and started digging around. “Yahtzee,” he said about an hour later. “The seeds aren't from around here. In fact, they're not from any tree or plant in the country.”

“Where are they from?” Dean asked.

“Eastern Europe, from a forest in the Balkans, which is not even there anymore. It was chopped down like thirty years ago. Local legend has it that the forest was guarded by a pagan god whose name was Leshi. Um, a mischievous god, could take on infinite forms.”

“And let me guess. He liked to munch on his fans,” Liam moved to look at the screen.

Sam chuckled. “Yep. Could be appeased only with the blood from his worshipers. It would drain them, then stuff their stomachs with the seeds.”

Dean got up and came over too. “So, how's he doing it? What, he touches James Dean's keychain and then morphs into James Dean?”

Sam shrugged. “It's as good a guess as any.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. How do we kill him?” Dean asked.

“Says here to chop off his head with an iron axe.”

“Alright,” Dean nodded. “Let's go gank ourselves a Paris Hilton.”

They drove back to the wax museum. “I can’t believe you’re making me go back in there,” Liam shook his head.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Dean said as he grabbed his wrist with one hand and dragged him in, an iron axe in the other.

They searched the place, and Sam found an area that was blocked off for renovations. They broke in and found an area that was decorated as a clearing in the woods. A young woman was tied to a tree. Sam moved to check her for a pulse. “She alive?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Barely,” Sam answered.

The axe suddenly flew out of Dean’s hand and embedded itself in one of the trees. Leshi appeared as Paris Hilton and attacked Dean, flinging him to the ground. Sam lunged while Liam went for the axe. Sam was thrown into a house model and knocked out. Liam took a swing at her neck but she dodged and lunged at him. There was quite a struggle until she managed to smack his head against a tree and knock him out as well.

The three of them came to tied to trees. Leshi looked up while filing her nails with a knife. “Oh. I'm so glad you're awake for this. This is gonna be huge.”

“Super. Yeah, I wouldn't wanna miss it,” Dean sighed as he pulled at the rope.

“I mean, I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately. So it's nice to do the ritual right. Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change.”

“Just like the good old days, huh?” Sam also started working on getting free.

“You have no idea. People adored me. They used to throw themselves at me with smiles on their faces.”

Liam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess these days nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods forest god, huh?”

Leshi glared at him. “No. Not since they cut down my forest and built a Yugo plant. For years now I've been wandering. Hungry. Scared. Scrounging for scraps. So not sexy. But then the best thing ever happened. Someone tripped the apocalypse. And I thought, what the hell, I'm tired of watching what I eat. I wanna pig out. So I found this little place. It's awesome. Adoring fans stroll right in the door.”

“Yeah. But they're not your fans,” Sam pointed out.

“So? They worship Lincoln, Gandhi, Hilton...whatever. I'll take what I can get.”

“Well,” Dean chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, sister, but, uh, you can't eat me. See, I'm not a Paris Hilton BFF. I've never even seen ‘House of Wax’.”

“No. But I can totally read your mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?”

Leshi turned her back for a minute and Liam got free and tackled her again. They rolled around on the ground exchanging punches. Sam managed to get out of the rope next and ran to grab the axe. Liam dodged out of the way while Sam took the axe to her neck, chopping her head off with a few strikes. “Need some help there, sweetness?” Liam chuckled as he helped Dean get free.

They took the girl to the hospital, then went back to the motel to get cleaned up and get some sleep. They were packing up the next morning when Dean turned to Sam and Liam. “Hey, listen, I was thinking about what you two said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you guys. Hell, maybe you're right. So, for that I'm sorry.”

“Apology happily accepted,” Liam kissed his cheek.

“So where do we go from here?” Dean asked.

“They way I see it, we got one shot at surviving this,” Sam leaned against the car. “Maybe Liam is on deck for the devil, maybe same with you and Michael, maybe there's no changing that. But, we can stop wringing our hands over it. We gotta just grab onto whatever's in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting.”

Dean nodded. “I can get on board with that.”

“Okay,” Sam looked at him. “But we're gonna have to do it on the same level.”

“You got it,” Dean grinned. “I say we get the hell outta here and go home.” Dean paused, then held the keys out to Sam. “You wanna drive?”

“You sure?” Sam looked a little surprised about that.

“Yeah, I could, uh...I could use a nap.”

“Do I get a turn?” Liam asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “With your car track record? Tell you what, I’ll think about it. For now, will you please join me for a snuggle in the back seat?”

Liam grinned. “Well, since you asked nicely, I’d love to.”
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hunting Humanity IV