In The Mouth Of The Rat
By: Tidia, December 2007
Disclaimer:
Supernatural is owned by Kripke. Thank you to Ridley C. James for
creating The Brotherhood Universe
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Chapter 4/9
Dean awoke with a relaxing stretch. He picked the master bedroom with
the view of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun came through the semi parted
blinds where he could also see the blueness of the water.
His fingers fell on his lips. He had to see Airlea again tonight. There
was just something about her. He started humming something nondescript,
a medley more than anything. He made his way downstairs with a bounce
in his step. Caleb was already awake, clippings in front of him, a mug
of coffee in hand.
"Hey," Dean announced, sniffing the air for breakfast.
"Waffles in the freezer," Caleb commented, still standing over the
table.
Dean opened the freezer and found the Eggo waffles. He took out four
and placed them in the toaster. He opened a few of the cabinets looking
for the syrup.
"I left it on the kitchen counter by the sink."
Dean sighed. "Dude, use your words." He hated being read on simple
matters.
"I'm not reading you." Caleb looked up. Dean wondered if he had gone to
sleep at all. "I used my hunter skills—you usually wake up hungry and
you like an obscene amount of syrup on your waffles."
Dean grimaced. He spent too much time with Caleb, the older hunter knew
him too well.
The waffles popped out of the toaster, Dean filled his plate, poured on
the syrup and balanced a cup of coffee. He ate leaning against the
counter, noting the papers Caleb had laid out. "You figure anything
out?"
"There are these guys," Reaves pointed to a few photos, "who left their
wives and were never heard from again. These are the ones related to
The Dollhouse, and this is the one we know is dead."
Dean shook his head, finished eating the waffles and licked his lips.
"So, not a thing."
"No, not really." Caleb rinsed out his coffee mug and placed it in the
dish drainer. "We don't know what they are. I thought succubus…."
Dean stepped away from the counter, felt heat rise to his face. "Airlea
is not a succubus."
Caleb picked up the photo of the man found on the beach. "This guy does
not look like a man in his thirties. He just shriveled up and died."
And Dean didn't know why he felt the flare of anger. He returned to
leaning against the counter. "Just one guy." He smirked, bringing
levity back into the room. "Really, what's so bad about getting some
before you die?"
Caleb raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it's the way I want to go."
"What? No going out guns blazing?" Dean grinned. They had this
particular conversation before. They wanted a meaningful death.
Reaves placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Have I not taught
you anything, Deuce? Who says both are not possible?"
And Dean realized his friend had a point.
"Back to the conversation. Eleni, Airlea, who knows, but they could be
succubi." Caleb put his hand up to silence Dean. "Ronald Byrne died and
it looks like someone drew energy from him, aging him. That's what
succubus do."
"I know that, Damien." Dean bit out. He didn't need the lesson.
"Right. And there are other men missing. . . "
Dean interrupted. "Yeah, but succubi also visit men, and these men go
to them. . ."
"I know that, Deuce." Caleb mimicked Dean's answer. "I think we should
try to find out if these guys all ended up here." Reaves held up the
photos of the missing men. "While you clean up, I'm going to make some
phone calls."
Dean didn't like being dismissed, but a shower and some space were
needed.
Caleb picked up the notes he had made earlier in the morning, listing
the names of the men and their wives. He called the exes, asking if
they had a last known address or phone number of their missing
husbands. The ones he was able to get on the phone were more than
forthcoming. They were trying, in anyway, to get revenge, and Caleb was
a perfect tool. They were hoping they were going to get their husbands
into trouble, and many of them asked Caleb to throw in a couple of
extra punches. Reaves was reminded of the adage about a women scorned.
Three had supplied phone numbers and last known addresses, which
happened to be located in the area- Pompano Beach, Fort Lauderdale and
Delray Beach. He called each of them, one didn't answer the phone, he
left a message for the other and he had the last one, Jason Quinlan, on
the phone as Dean came down the stairs.
"Mr. Quinlan, your wife Michelle has stated that you are in need of
funds. I'm friends with her divorce attorney in Illinois and she asked
that I meet with you and give you some money." Caleb said into the
phone while pulling out his wallet, and looked through how much he
could spare.
Dean smothered a laugh, and crossed his arms.
"Shelley's really going to give me some money?"
Reaves held up three one hundred dollar bills to show Winchester. "Not
much."
Caleb took down the Jason's address.
"When will you learn you aren't supposed to use your own money to fund
cons." Dean ran his hand through his hair and spiked it up some. It was
still wet. Dean was wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers instead
of boots. Caleb was wearing jeans, and a button down shirt. It was
strange how normal they looked, and yet knew more than normal people.
"Yeah, well. . .Mac. . .." Caleb absentmindedly gestured with his
hands. His adopted father did not like the seedy side of hunting, and
did not approve of gaining money through fraud, poker or pool. Mackland
tried to explain that John could have had normal employment and still
pursued the supernatural. The boys would have had a stable and more
nurturing upbringing. But John thought he would be unable to protect
his sons from children services and demons if they remained in one
place. "We need to head to Fort Lauderdale."
The better way to get to Fort Lauderdale was to enjoy the site and
drive along the ocean. Caleb appreciated that Dean took the highway
instead. They pulled up to a depilated motel, far from any view of the
ocean. It was actually a place the Winchesters would not even consider
staying. Caleb knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Quinlan, I spoke to you earlier. . .your wife has decided to give
you some money." Reaves announced as Winchester rocked on his heels.
The door opened a little, then a bit more to reveal an older man, white
hair with a paunch and wrinkled features.
"Jason Quinlan?" Caleb frowned, and looked back at Dean.
The old man cleared his throat. "That's me."
Dean held up the picture. "You don't fit the description."
Jason licked his lips. "I told Shelley I was sick."
Caleb rubbed his forehead. "I thought you were 35."
"I am 35."
"Gee, Damien, in a few more years. . . " Dean commented.
Caleb ignored the younger hunter and the barbs at his age. He would get
his revenge later. "How did this happen?"
Jason hunched his shoulders, dejected. "You won't believe me."
"Try us," Caleb replied.
The old man puckered his lips, studied both men through his cloudy
eyes. "I can tell you over some food?"
"Sucker," Dean said out of the corner of his mouth.
There was a diner in walking distance. Jason ordered meatloaf, talking
in between bites about his bodily aches. Finally, after going through
all his sudden ailments he got to the reason why he had aged.
"I had an affair." He said as he took a sip of water. "I
thought…Shelley and I …and I met her on the internet. Diana."
"Diana?" Caleb lifted an eyebrow. He had been dealing with Eleni, and
Dean had met Airlea. Who was Diana?
"Dollhouse website?" Reaves questioned.
"Yeah, guess Shelley told you that." Jason blew his nose with the paper
napkin.
"I came here, and met her. One month…best month of my life. She was
hot- long brown hair, gray eyes. I don't know what happened." He said
as he lifted his hands and studied them-brown spots, raised veins-all
the signs of aging.
"So you just what? Woke up one day and noticed you were old?" Dean said
with a skeptical tone.
"Pretty much."
"And Diana?" Caleb wondered what had happened to the girl.
"She set me up here, but I haven’t seen her. Don't want to either. I
want Shelley back." The old man wiped his eyes. "I made a mistake.
Think she'll take me back? I don't want a divorce. . ."
"She sent this, so maybe that's a start." Caleb slipped him the
envelope with three hundred dollars. He hated lying to the broken man,
and didn't want to take away his hope. Maybe his wife would take him
back, maybe not after the act of betrayal.
They walked Jason back to the seedy motel. They returned to the Impala
and Dean's eyes glowed.
"We're going back there tonight-right?" Winchester started the engine.
"Did you not hear what the guy said?" Caleb replied in frustration.
Honestly, he was thinking there should be women from The Brotherhood in
the field. At least they would not fall under the spell of the beauties
at The Dollhouse.
"I heard him. He said the chick's name was Diana. I like Airlea and you
like Eleni. Makes me think that we have to spend some more time
researching." Dean raised his eyebrows up and down.
Caleb shook his head. Thankfully, there was a plausible reason why they
would not be going back, so he could avoid an argument with the younger
hunter. "Dude, when was the last time you were laid? It's a moot point.
It's Sunday. Day of rest, even for strippers. They're closed. You need
to get a grip."
"Shut up," Dean replied.
During the drive over, Caleb had noticed something on the highway that
Dean would be interested in. "We can go to the batting cages to get rid
of your sexual frustration?"
Dean leaned back into the leather driver's seat. "Not the same."
Reaves didn't have to use his psychic ability to know the younger
hunter wanted to go the batting cages. Caleb wondered when was the last
time Dean had done anything baseball related. "But you're itching to
go."
Dean turned the radio on, The Eagles picked up where it had left off.
Then suddenly Dean snorted, laughed and shook his head.
Caleb frowned. Dean was going through a myriad of emotions, not
allowing Caleb to be sole moody hunter. "What are you laughing at?"
Dean turned his head away from the road for a moment. "I was thinking
about when Sam-" Dean narrowed his lips, smothering whatever he was
going to say next.
"Why did you stop?" Caleb asked. They hadn’t talked about Sam for
awhile; Caleb followed Dean's lead, figuring it was too painful of a
subject for the younger hunter.
"He's not here. Why talk about it? Can't tease him about it."
And Caleb knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it rang hollow. Caleb
wanted to try to fill in the brotherly shoes, but would never be a
replacement. "It's not like he's dead. It's okay to talk about him."
Dean glanced over to Caleb with skeptical, narrowed eyes. "I called him
when he first left and went to voicemail. He didn't even stick around
in New Mexico." Dean looked back to the road, disgusted. "Don't give me
that look Damien.
"What look?" Caleb tried to school his features.
"That you feel sorry for me, man. I hate it. Why I don’t talk about
shit." Dean shifted his hands on the Impala's steering wheel.
Reaves sighed, finding himself at a loss for words. "He'll come around."
Dean snorted. "Another reason why I don’t share-I don’t want a positive
spin on it either. It is what it is. I'm outta Sammy's life. I'll get
over it."
Caleb flinched at the finality of the statement. Dean would never get
over his brother leaving. Reaves had told Jim and Mac a long time ago
they should have intervened with Dean. Dean should have pursued time
away from his family, but that opportunity was gone.
Dean brushed off their disagreement easily at the batting cage. He
purchased a glove to gain a better grip on the bat. He did ten at a
standard pitch with a hard ball, and then had the speed increased to
MLB level.
Caleb was impressed, Dean hadn't lost his touch, and there was a
wistful expression as the bat made contact with the balls. They stayed
there for awhile; Dean found himself the center of attention. Some
grade school boys where in awe, and asked Dean for pointers. He was
patient, and helped each one until finally he noticed the time and
Caleb sitting on a bench, taking in the sun.
Dean waved and they both headed towards the Impala parked in the lot.
"You hit like Fred Munster," Winchester commented, opening the door.
"Thanks." Caleb rolled his eyes. His talents lay in other places, not
in a baseball diamond.
In the car Dean gave the older hunter a nod. "Hey, batting cages were a
good idea." Dean paused as he was about to place the key in the
ignition. "You know instead of staying at that swanky place on the
beach we can check in somewhere, away from the beach, smack in the
middle of the state if you want."
Caleb rubbed his jaw, pretending to contemplate the offer. He
appreciated the gesture. "Don't think it isn't tempting, Deuce. But,
I'm okay." Reaves glanced over, catching the expression on Dean's face
as he started the engine. "Don't give me that look, man, the same you
complained about earlier. It's irrational."
"Yep," the younger hunter agreed.
"Okay, Mr. Poster Child For Mental Health." Caleb slapped Dean in the
stomach.
Dean grinned and rubbed his stomach.
The two hunters had a quiet evening, eating at the other nearby
restaurant, then playing poker for a few hours before calling it a
night.
Dean was up early in the morning, taking a run on the beach. He loved
this new morning ritual, the sand kicking up as he ran, the sun warming
his body, the sound of the waves and the smell of ocean. It was
relaxing. He sprinted the last mile back, coming up the backstairs
panting from the exertion.
He came through the sliding glass doors, stopping to hear if Caleb was
up yet. Hearing no sound, he picked up his clothes and headed to the
shower. When he came out of the shower there was the distinct smell of
coffee in the air.
Caleb was sitting at the kitchen table, with a tumbler of clear liquid.
The coffee in the carafe was untouched.
"Damn, that's a sight I haven’t seen in a long time." Dean said as he
went to the coffee machine, swishing the carafe before pouring himself
a generous amount.
Reaves picked up the vodka bottle. "Yeah, well, I'm not driving
anywhere."
Dean recognized Caleb was trying to get his nerves under control. "Why
don't you try all that martial arts stuff?" Dean made crazy, hyper hand
gestures simulating karate. "Mac paid for all those lessons to help you
gain some balance."
Caleb gave a twisted grin. "Wouldn't want Mac's money to go to waste.
It's a good idea, Deuce." The psychic pushed away the glass, and Dean
dumped it in the sink.
"Why don't you go grab some breakfast, let me clean up and then we go
to the coroner's office," Caleb suggested.
"Nothing I like better then seeing a dead body on a full stomach." Dean
was already up the stairs going to get his sneakers. Caleb would do his
Tai Chi, and gain some focus.
When Dean returned, Caleb was sitting on the white couch waiting,
relaxed and dressed in a suit. Dean wished he had the patience to
pursue martial arts. He had scoped out the location of the corners
office. Caleb was going in, getting a copy of the reports and leaving.
Dean remained in the car, windows down with his head relaxed back and
sunglasses firmly in place. A newspaper was in his lap, but the heat
and sweat trickling down his wife beater made him feel languid.
Caleb returned, losing his tie as he walked. "Body has already been
claimed and shipped back," Reaves said as he opened the car door. He
lifted a manila folder up for Dean to see. "Coroner's report."
They returned to the house, and sat at the kitchen table, the cold air
conditioner a comfort and necessity in the humid, summer heat.
"Died of a heart attack, not drowning." Caleb read the page, and passed
it to Dean to review.
Dean reread the file, trying to come up with some answers, though he
already had one in mind. He believed they were dealing with a succubus.
A succubus was a demon who took the form of a beautiful female to
seduce men with the climax literally being death of the victim. They
hadn't come up against one, although Dean certainly dreamed about it,
and this could be their first opportunity.
"Estimated age, 80, Jesus, this guy was like 31." Caleb tapped the
sheet. "Says here they found a matchbook from a place called The
Dollhouse." Reaves pointed to the place on the paper, which stated the
name of the strip club as he handed it to Dean. "I don’t think we
should go back."
"Whaddya mean?" That got Dean's attention. He'd never known Caleb to
back down from a fight.
Caleb focused his attention on the condensation on the Coke can, wiping
down the can and rubbing the water in his palm. "We don't know what
we're up against. These guys weren't in their 80s when this all
started, and Jason didn't give us enough to go on."
"He's old what does he remember?" Dean frowned.
"Enough that I don't feel comfortable." Caleb retorted, taking a drink
from the can as if emptying the soda was also finishing the
conversation.
Dean stood up and shook the papers at his friend. "It's a succubus, and
we know the name-Diana, that's what Jason said. We go back, ask the
girls about someone named Diana, and we deal with it." Dean snorted.
"Dude, a succubus, haven’t you always wanted to come up against one of
those?"
"They usually kill their victims, Deuce. How do you explain Jason?"
Caleb raised a brow.
"Lucky." Dean smiled.
"Not so much." Caleb tossed the can from where he was sitting in the
trash. "He's like 80. And the other guys they have been missing for
awhile, whatever happens to them takes time. Dean, I don't know, I got
this feeling when we were there. . ."
"Dude, we've never come across a succubus before. We have to go back
for research. How are we going to figure this out if we don't go back?"
Dean was proud of his logical argument.
The psychic shook his head. "But, Eleni is in on it somehow. Deuce, we
should wait."
Dean could tell Caleb was going to be adamant. He played his trump
card, and knew the results. "So, are you going to call up my dad and
tell him we can't handle this job?"
Caleb sighed, and let his head dropped back. He closed his eyes for a
moment.
Dean felt momentarily guilty. He never pushed Caleb, usually accepted
the other hunter's instincts without question.
Reaves brought his head back up. "We can handle this job."
"Exactly." Dean gave his friend two thumbs up in excitement. He wanted
to see Airlea again. "Look, we go back to the club, find this Diane
chick, kill her and that's it. Plus we have some fun. Eleni was all
over you. You do remember what fun is, Damien?"
"I invented fun, Deuce." Caleb rubbed the back of his neck.
"But I perfected it." Dean replied as he went to get another soda from
the refrigerator.
"Not so fast," Caleb called out and Dean turned around. "You wanna play
me, then I'm setting some ground rules."
"You noticed?" Dean winced.
"Threatening me with John Winchester? Pretty low, Deuce, but I'll let
it pass, figuring you haven't been laid in awhile."
"What?" Dean was taken aback; shut the refrigerator door without
getting his soda. He was being insulted.
Reaves ignored the younger hunter's indignation. "You stay in my sights
the whole time. These women are dangerous."
"I like 'em that way."
"And no nookie nookie until this is over," Reaves added with a smile.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn, you sure you're not the one
who's 80? Man, you reached 30 and it all went downhill." Dean figured
since he had been offended, he may as well insult his friend.
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. "I reached 30, Deuce, and I expect
you to."
Dean shrugged, happy someone had expectations for him to live that
long. "You going to throw me a party at the Playboy Mansion?"
"You, me, Heff and a bevy of Playmates." Reaves sighed as if he was
picturing the site.
"I'll look forward to it, Damien." Dean recalled his twenty fist
birthday had been a blast with even seventeen year old Sam enjoying the
illicit festivities. He hoped his brother would be present for the
thirty landmark birthday too. "Stop worrying. That is definitely
something worth living for."
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