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 3/9
Hunting was a gig with lots of downtime. Sam pursued his education,
Dean used to pursue money to supplement what their dad brought in so
they could have a roof over their head and food in their bellies.
Sometimes in his own time he would work on his projects, not women or
weapons, but fixing things and figuring how they worked.
"What the hell are you doing, Deuce?" Caleb walked in the door with
bags of groceries from the nearby Publix.
Dean glanced at his watch. A supermarket run did not take two hours,
but Dean wouldn't press the issue. Everyone had their internal demons.
Dean learned that providing a presence, yet giving space was
sufficient. Dean and Caleb understood each other; there was no need to
be overbearing or hypersensitive.
The shell casings, paper and rock salt were on a table before him. He
started to put it all away without explanation.
Caleb halted him, picking up some rock salt granules. "What is all
this?"
"Don’t you feel like an idiot when you throw rock salt at a Casper?
It's weak, man." Dean had proposed sling shots as one possible
solution, but he thought there had to be something better. "I'm
surprised they don't laugh at us."
The psychic moved his shoulders back, and straightened. "No one laughs
at Caleb Reaves."
"You keep telling yourself that," Dean said with an uninhibited chuckle
. He continued to put all the items away in a shoe box to work on
another time.
"So, this is . . . ." Caleb sprinkled the salt on the table.
He excelled in explaining things in a simplistic manner even though he
knew the correct terminology. Dean was mechanical by nature, knew how
to put things together and take them apart, and people knew this, but
he didn't want too much else to show through. "A new delivery system.
Fire the rock salt through a rifle."
"Pretty cool, Deuce." He jostled Dean's shoulder. "Is it going to work?"
He closed up the box, and tucked it under his arm. "Yeah, maybe, soon,
I just have to get the consistency right."
"Mac always writes about his latest discoveries in medical journals to
get the word out. You make this work; this could be right up there with
the polio vaccine." Caleb lifted his hand over his head.
Dean frowned. He appreciated the accolades from Reaves. "For what,
twenty or thirty deranged individuals who believe that things that go
bump in the night are real?"
Caleb snorted. "You have a point. But still, Mac'll be jealous. He
always thinks he's the famous one in The Brotherhood."
Dean tried to deflect attention. He knew his position within The
Brotherhood and his family. He was a hunter, Sam's former protector and
nothing more. "What did you buy for dinner?"
Caleb thankfully played along. "Hungry Man specials."
"Damn, those things never heat up right. You should have gone for the
Lean Cuisine."
Reaves fished through the bags and picked one of the meals, dropped it
and watched it clatter against the table. "We can always go to the
restaurant next door."
Dean took in a deep breath. He could practically smell the steak he was
planning on ordering. "That sounds better." And with Caleb on a hunt
one thing was for certain. "You paying?"
Caleb rolled his eyes. "I swear you Winchesters just call me to go on
hunts so you can eat."
The two hunters spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, not much
research could be accomplished on a Saturday with all public buildings
closed. In addition, they expected a late night, and it was better to
go in rested.
The restaurant next door wanted to give them outside seating, but Caleb
convinced them he was very satisfied with seats at the indoor bar.
The bar happened to be the farthest away from water. Dean didn't
criticize the choice or tease his friend.
They placed their orders, Caleb ordering the surf and turf while Dean
went for the New York Strip Steak. The bartender brought their beers,
and Dean thought it was the perfect opportunity to do some research.
"Hey, what do you know about The Dollhouse?"
The bartender came in closer so the other nearby patrons couldn't hear.
"The girls aren't rough looking like they can be at some other places.
It's a good scene."
Caleb took a drink, and picked up on what Dean was doing. With Sam it
was always about typical research at libraries and city halls. "Been
there long?"
"I've been here two years; it's been there about a year, I guess." The
bartender answered, and left them for a moment as a waitress came by
with a drink order.
When he finished and over their meal they continued the questioning,
"Have any connections there? Can you help a brother out?" Dean raised
his eyebrows.
"Don't I wish." The bartender said as he mixed a dirty martini. Dean
grimaced at the olive juice. "The bartenders next door and us are
tight, help each other out, but that's about it."
Caleb rubbed his chin. "What about the owners?"
"Supposedly, it's owned by a chick. . ." The bartender let the answer
trail off.
Feeling as though they had received enough information, and their meal
long since finished, it was time to go to The Dollhouse.
The drive over was punctuated by Metallica's hard rock rhythms. Dean
lowered the volume. "About Dad bailing on us. . ." Dean shook his head
at his words. The conversation sounded eerily similar to those he would
have with Sam. "He wouldn't have left if he thought you couldn't handle
this."
Reaves grunted. "A good job, Kid, would have been fine."
"You know my dad-he's no talk, all action." Dean put the volume up. Sam
had the same issue, wishing their father would be more talkative.
They entered the parking lot, and Dean maneuvered the Impala to the
back lot. He cut the engine and the two hunters got out of the car.
Their identification was checked at the door, and the rope removed to
allow them entrance. Caleb leaned into the bouncer. "I'm looking for
Eleni."
The bouncer gave a nod of acknowledgement. "She's up in an hour."
Reaves went into his pocket, and pressed a twenty in the man's hand.
"Tell her Caleb's here when you get a chance."
"Will do."
They entered the club to pulsating lights, making it impossible to see
the patrons. Techno music blared as the men stayed awed by the stage
and cages, watching the women dance. The place truly did look better in
the dark, suddenly it was all about make believe and the sale of sex.
Dean pointed to the bar, unwilling to talk over the annoyingly
throbbing beat. He noticed all the women behind the bar, and elbowed
Caleb, who echoed his smirk. He turned to place his order, and was
shocked.
"It's you." The girl from the beach was wiping down the counter in
front of him. She was wearing a low cut tank top, her dark hair framing
her face. He recalled her name immediately. "Airlea."
"Dean," she said with a gravely voice that appealed to Dean.
Caleb nudged his shoulder, and he wished the psychic would disappear.
"This is my friend Caleb." He made the introductions. "We met on the
beach last night." Dean said to stake his claim, mark his territory.
Reaves smacked his lips. "That was fast."
Winchester rested his hand on his chest. "It's how I work."
While they were having their private conversation, Airlea brought two
drinks. "Whiskey on the house."
"Whoa, you're a little fast too." Dean moved the drinks so they were in
front of him. "He's a light weight."
Airlea winked at Caleb. "Doesn’t look that way."
Dean watched as Caleb raked back his hair. He had recently cut it, and
was constantly using his hands as a comb to give it a more disheveled
appearance.
The younger hunter pushed the older man slightly. "This is an A and B
conversation, C yourself out."
Caleb shook his head. "Competition keeps you on your A game."
Dean frowned. "I thought you wanted to find Eleni." He turned to the
bartender. "He's looking for Eleni."
She cocked her head to the side, then gave a Mona Lisa smile. "Go the
side over there; tell the den mother you want to see Eleni and that I
sent you over."
"Thanks, appreciate it." Caleb gave a nod, and headed in the direction
Airlea had pointed out.
With Reaves off on his errand, Winchester could concentrate on his
latest conquest. She was beautiful, model beautiful in fact, which was
probably why Caleb was interested too. She gestured to another
bartender.
"Let's find ourselves a quiet corner." She wiped her hands on a towel.
Dean finished one of the whiskeys. "Don't you have to work?"
She again gave another tight smile. It was reserved, but sexy. Airlea
had an air of mystery about her. "I own the place."
Dean was shocked. This was unexpected. This case was working out
well-Caleb was meeting Eleni, and they had found the owner of the
place. Dean felt smug and confident. They would solve this case
quickly, and Caleb would cease his tortured soul imitation.
The den mother was not very motherly, more hot dominatrix and
memorable. She sized Caleb up, gave him a nod and went to retrieve
Eleni from the dressing room. Eleni had truly been honest when she
described herself-voluptuous in all the right places, dark brown, long
hair to her waist. She wore a slip dress, or it may have been just a
slip.
Usually more suave and forthright, Caleb had to remember his persona of
Midwestern, married man leaving his wife. "Hi, I'm
Caleb…we…ahh….talked….over the internet?"
"Honey!" She exclaimed and threw herself at him in a body pressing hug.
She gripped his hand, and he allowed himself to be led into a back
room, behind glass doors. The club was completely visible through the
doors, and the music still filtered in.
"I can't believe you're here. Has anyone told you how handsome you
are?" Her hand flowed down the side of his face. "I want us to spend as
much time together as possible. Tell me what you need?"
Caleb had to give it to Eleni, men would fall for the fantasy of
someone fulfilling all their needs. It would be exciting and so
different from the normal ho-hum. Involuntarily Caleb found his hands
skimming her body, his hand on her leg. He hesitated.
He was getting a headache. Really, a poor excuse when a woman was
rubbing herself on you, and you were practically horizontal. Caleb
tried to ignore the headache as it continued to build. It wasn't a
vision. This was different. But Reaves wanted to ignore it, and give
into the other, more important throbbing.
The headache was starting to make him nauseous, and he broke their
kiss. He took a deep breath.
"Something wrong?" She asked as her hand went to the zipper on his
pants.
He squeezed his lips together. This could not be happening to him.
Course he didn't know what exactly 'this' was. "Hey, sweetie, slow
down."
She pouted for a moment. "I am here for you."
And Caleb did remember that he had a job to do. He was a hunter,
eventually the next Knight of The Brotherhood. "I'm sorry. It's just my
wife. . .I don't know. . .Have you met a lot of men on the internet?"
She raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to lie to you, but
you're special. There's only you now."
The more her hands stroked his head, the greater the headache became.
"Can I come back tomorrow?" He grabbed her hands. "I really want to get
to know you." He really wanted to figure out what she was doing to
these men.
She gave him a few feathery kisses, until he stood up. She escorted him
out of the private room.
He was unable to find Dean right away. He went to the bar and looked
for Airlea, the friendly bartender. It was difficult to talk to the
current bartender over the music. She pointed to a corner to the left
of the bar.
Dean and Airlea had continued on where Caleb had left off, a total jean
on jean make out session. Reaves stepped closer, a looming presence
over the couple. "Deuce, let's go."
Dean must have sensed Caleb's presence as he broke momentarily away
from Airlea. "In a minute."
Caleb crossed his arms. He still had a headache, and wanted some air.
"One sec." And Dean lifted his hand to wave Caleb away.
Reaves shook his head, and placed his hand on Winchester's shoulder.
"Now."
Airlea broke off her kiss.
Dean glared at the psychic. "Killjoy."
"You can stay," Airlea said to Dean, moving closer to Dean once more.
Caleb pulled the other hunter up forcibly. Dean wrestled his arm away
from Caleb.
"She asked me to stay and it really sounds like a good idea to me. I
want to stay." Dean weaved back to sitting down next to the bartender
once more.
Caleb yanked Dean's arm, grabbing the younger by the belt loops and
propelling him forward. "We'll be back tomorrow." He told the woman.
"Promise?" She purred.
Caleb swallowed as his headache flared once more. "Yes."
Dean tried to get away from him again as they walked through the
hallway on the way out.
"I'm going back."
"No." Caleb blocked the path. This was getting tiresome. "Tomorrow
night, Deuce. She'll still be there."
The fresh air immediately helped the psychic's headache. He felt
better, even in the humid air, and the hint of ocean scent. He still
had to keep a guiding hand on Dean. "Do you want me to drive?"
Dean frowned. "Nah, I'll do it." He shrugged off the grip. "Lemme go,
Damien."
The younger hunter opened the car door. "Can you believe that. . .Wow."
Dean looked back at The Dollhouse, and finally placed the key in the
ignition. Metallica came out of the speakers, picking up where it had
left off.
"Yeah, she was hot. Can we go home now?" Caleb rubbed his forehead.
"What's the matter?" Dean pulled away from the strip club onto the main
road.
Caleb opened the car window. The pressure was lessening. "I have a
headache."
Dean snorted. "You know sometimes this happens to men your age…"
Reaves had leaned his head against the headrest and turned to glare at
Dean. "No."
Dean laughed. "Nothing to be ashamed of. . ."
"No." Caleb did not like the insult. He was in his thirties, not
ancient, and little Caleb worked just fine.
Dean ceased the teasing. "So, you find anything out?"
"Eleni is good at what she does. Don't know what she does exactly…but
it'll be fun finding out." They would have to spend tomorrow putting
together their clues, and see where it led. "So did you and your new
best friend talk?"
Dean lifted his eyebrows up and down. "Airlea owns the place."
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