Category: Gen, Drama, Humor, Angst, AU, wing!fic
Spoilers: Through It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester
Series: Playing the Angel - While Sam and Dean continue fighting to prevent the Apocalypse, Dean inexplicably manifests a pair of wings. The brothers must work together to figure out what is happening and reverse the act before the changes overtake Dean completely.
Summary: Dean manifests wings for the first time, which complicates the case the brothers are investigating.
Word Count: 32,244 (Total)
A/N: This series is obviously AU, but will follow show canon as closely as possible. Each story can be read as stand alones, but it might make more sense together. I may occasionally post out of order.
Disclaimer: See previous posts.
[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]
The drive back into town was anything but pleasant. While Sam had had the displeasure of riding in cop cars before, this particular ride took the cake. For the entire ride, he was trapped in the backseat with Dean, which was bad enough on a good day, but even worse with his wing problem. The good wing did nothing but twitch and flap around in the confined space, while the damaged one hung limp between them, emitting an odor reminiscent of bad cheese. Dean himself couldn't seem to sit still; his fidgeting made the cramped compartment seem even smaller, and his unintelligible mutters were giving Sam a headache. He was beyond thankful once they pulled up to the rear of the sheriff's office.
Dean leaned forward and peered outside the window. "Back way?"
Johnson didn't turn around. "I'd like as few people seeing you as possible."
Dean huffed and slumped back as far as he could.
After Johnson exited the car, he grabbed Sam first. Sam gave a wary look back to the car as he was led away, not liking the idea that he and Dean were obviously being separated. While he couldn't blame the sheriff for taking precautions, he knew that any wrong move could mean both he and Dean could end up dead. They needed to be prepared to fight even if it meant turning on the local law enforcement.
Johnson's deputy was waiting for him at the door, and after a quick, bewildered look in Dean's general direction, the officer cuffed Sam, took him by the shoulder and shoved him inside.
"You're making a mistake," Sam warned them, but neither officer was listening.
"Sheriff?" The deputy, named Owens, kept stealing nervous glances to the parked car. "Did I just see--?"
"Don't worry about that," Johnson told him. "Just get this one into questioning. I'll take the other one downstairs."
When the color drained from Owens' face, an uneasy shiver crept down Sam's back.
"They aren't supposed to come through. You said--"
"I said not to worry about it."
Owens didn't argue. He grabbed Sam and led him down the corridor to a small room. Owens urged him inside and instructed him to sit down. Sam did as he was told, taking a moment to inventory the room. Dixville might be small, but Sam had to marvel at how sophisticated their interrogation room was.
The fact the town had only a general store, but had a fully modernized interrogation room, told Sam all he needed to know about the priorities of Dixville.
Owens said nothing as he waited by the door. He kept his eyes on Sam, though the occasional nervous glance would find the hallway. Beyond Sam's line of sight, he could hear shuffling near the end of the hall and Dean's distinct insults and protests. Then there was a loud bang as the sound of feet faded downward.
Sam didn't want to know what the basement looked like.
Silence pressed on the space between them as the minutes ticked away. Owens became more and more agitated, stopping to wipe his sweaty face between pacing by the doorway. He would poke his head outside, whip around to glare at Sam, and then start the process over again.
Sam sat with his cuffed hands resting in his lap. The clock in the corner of the room told him a good fifteen minutes had passed, but Owens seemed none the wiser.
"Doesn't questioning usually involve talking?" Sam finally asked.
"Shut up," Owens muttered. He returned to his vigil by the door.
Sam shrugged and leaned forward. Owens had his hand by his sidearm. Even distracted, Sam knew he didn't have enough time to rush him without getting shot. The deputy was too nervous and afraid to think clearly in a fight, which could be either to his advantage or disadvantage. Sam couldn't risk it. Not yet.
He glanced at the clock. Another fifteen minutes had passed, going on twenty. He needed to get out of here.
"What is it?" Owens finally asked, crossing the room to loom over him.
"What?" Sam decided to play dumb for now.
"You know what. Your buddy in the car. What is he? How did you manage to get him into town?"
Sam opened his mouth to respond, but stopped and frowned, watching as a man in a white coat with a small bag hurried down the hallway. He disappeared from view, and once again, Sam heard the thunder of steps as they led downward.
He squirmed in his seat. He had to get down there. Now.
The deputy rubbed at his chin and tapped his foot. "Screw this," he finally said, and grabbed Sam by the arm. "Tina!"
"Hey," Sam said, as he was pulled to his feet.
A woman appeared at the door, Tina he presumed, and rested her hand on her sidearm as she appraised him. "Yeah?" she asked.
"Take this one to lockup. If he tries anything, shoot him."
"Wait, the sheriff told you to keep me in here," Sam said.
Owens ignored him. "Just get him to a cell."
Tina eyed Sam again before turning to Owens. "I just picked some guy up who I think you and Dan might want to talk to."
"It'll have to wait." He withdrew his sidearm. "I'm not letting that thing alone with Terry and Dan."
Sam swallowed hard. He couldn't let this happen. He started to search the room for anything he could use against the officers, but the interrogation room was clean. He knew he was far better trained than either of them combined, but he just couldn't chance it.
He felt Tina's gun press into his side. "Move," she said.
He started down the hallway, feeling the very real presence of the gun as she jammed it into his back. The hallway opened as they walked, and he felt the nudge to turn right. When he did, he saw a thick iron door with bars ahead. Inside, various cells, some closed and occupied and others slightly ajar, waited for him.
"This is a mistake," he told Tina. "Get Sheriff Owens. He'll tell you what's going on."
She snorted. "Likely story." She unlocked the main door and pushed him. "Inside."
Sam shuffled inside the cell room. There were five jail cells on either side of him. Three of them were occupied: one with a teenager who was staring into a world of his own, another with a woman in a short mini and heavy makeup, and the third with a man in his late twenties, armed with piercing eyes, who watched their every move.
Tina guided Sam to an empty cell.
"It's good to know you take your job so seriously," Sam said, forcing a smile as Tina shoved him inside.
"Don't be a wiseass." Tina locked the cell. "The sheriff will talk to you when he's done."
Sam called after her to come back, but she ignored him. With a loud clang, the iron door locked into place, leaving him with the three other jailed occupants.
He sighed and leaned against the bars. This wasn't how he'd planned for the day to start. If Dean had just stayed in the motel room, they wouldn't have run into this problem. Now, he had no idea what to expect, and Dean, wherever he was, could be in even worse danger.
The woman was smiling at him, while the man kept watching him. Sam adjusted his shirt. The people in this town gave him the creeps.
"You can't trust any of them."
Sam started. The teenager in the cell beside him had broken from his vacant stare and now stood by the bars, trying to act as casual as possible, but failing miserably. His voice came out only a whisper.
"Who?" Sam asked. He glanced to the side. The man and woman were still watching him.
"You can't trust any of them. Any of them, you know?" He coughed and rubbed at the spacers in his ears. "Not any of them."
"Who?" Sam asked again, feeling the agitation burning like fire under his skin. "What--?"
"I know. You're Winchester. Sam Winchester. I know." He shook his head. "Oh man, I know."
Sam felt his face go slack. "What do you know?"
There was laughter from across the room. The woman grinned and showed her broken teeth. "Little Billy is talking mad again. He's insane, you know? Killed a man."
Sam studied the teen. He was becoming more and more troubled as the minutes passed.
"I know you. I know you and Dean. You hunt. They knew. They knew you would come."
"Who are they?"
"Oh you know. Out in the woods." His voice faltered and he nearly choked on the last word. "The people in the woods."
He laughed once and shook his head. "Oh God, no. No." Billy sucked in a deep breath and pulled his hair back, exposing a scar on his left temple. "The others. The black eyes. All their black eyes."
Sam felt cold. Demons. There was an army of demons gathering in the woods, and they wanted into town.
"They're trying to break the magic barrier," Sam said, watching as the boy nodded. "There's something here in town."
Billy nodded. "They knew you'd come. They knew you'd get through. They told me. They told lots of us. They told and told and promised. And promised no more pain. No more."
There was something important hidden in Dixville, so important the demons were staking out the entire town.
So important that they were using Sam and Dean to get to it.
The demons had spies everywhere. He had to warn Dean.
Still cuffed, Sam shook the bars, looking for any weakness. When he found none, he bent low and peered inside the lock, trying to catch a glimpse of the mechanism inside. He found it odd that the interrogation rooms were so polished, but the actual jail cells were old-fashioned. Then he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Dixville didn't hold prisoners for very long, and he doubted most of them walked free.
"I need to get out of here."
"Join the club," said the man across from him. "I shouldn't even be in here." He glared at the woman.
Sam really didn't care about a prostitute and her john. He needed to get into the basement and to Dean before anything happened.
"Here," came the voice beside him. Billy popped out one of his spacers and cracked it open to reveal a small, thin, metal rod. He held it out to Sam and offered a nervous smile. "Go make it better. Please."
Sam extended his cuffed hands as far as he could and grabbed the rod. He gave Billy a doubtful look. He had been carrying this the entire time, but never made a move to escape.
"I'm safer in here," Billy whispered, as if reading his mind. "So safe."
Sam thanked him and started working the lock on his handcuffs. They snapped easily, giving Sam plenty of time to work on his cell lock. It took a few tries, but finally he managed to pop it.
"Come back for me. Come back," Billy said, his voice becoming fainter and fainter as his eyes slid under a fearful glaze. "You gotta get me out of here, man. You gotta promise. Promise…"
"I promise," Sam said. With that, he took a deep breath. He hoped this worked.
"Help!" he yelled. "He's choking!"
The large iron door clicked opened and Tina ran in, her face a mask of confusion. To Sam's surprise, the prostitute started to scream, while the businessman started pointing. The boy doubled over and coughed until his face turned blue.
Tina ran over to the cell where Billy was coughing and spasming, only she never made it. As she approached, Sam swung out the door and smacked her in the face. She stumbled back, dazed, and Sam took the opportunity to jump her. One punch to the face and she was out cold. He grabbed the keys and her gun before he dragged her body into the empty cell and locked it.
"Us too!" yelled the man.
Sam hesitated. The people were locked up where here for a reason, and at this point Sam wasn't sure who he could trust, even if he could trust Billy himself. On the other hand, Sam knew he could use any help people were willing to offer, and at the best they could provide the right distraction so he could get to Dean.
Sam unlocked the doors. Billy didn't move.
He couldn't worry about him right now. Sam unlocked the main door and crept into the hallway.
It was empty.
Now all he had to do was--
A shot rang out through the building. Sam froze. He knew that there was only one logical place for the gunshot to have been fired and his instincts drew him down the hall to the dark stairwell outside his interrogation room.
Sam bolted down the corridor and hoped he wasn't too late.