Actions

Work Header

Demon Vacation

Summary:

When the brothers go to New York to stop a witch and some demons, they are arrested by NYPD and questioned by the Special Victims Unit. But when demons start to become more and more real for the team, will they believe the Winchesters?

Notes:

This takes place between the Special Victims Unit Season 13 episodes 'Justice Denied' and 'Street Revenge' and the Supernatural Season 7 episodes 'Born-Again Identity' and 'Party on, Garth', which would place this in mid-March 2012. Slightly AU regarding Supernatural, as I hadn't seen beyond 7.18 when I wrote this, though.

Please tell me what you think. All feedback is appreciated.

Work Text:

March 16th 2012
6.18am
NYPD Station

“There’s been an attempted murder at a playground in Central Park,” Cragen raised his voice so that the officers could hear, “and the culprits are coming over here for questioning.”

“What happened?” Olivia asked, folding her arms as she stood by her desk.

Cragen reeled off what he knew. “Two men were trying to kill a young woman who disappeared last night; Louise Ross, aged twenty-seven, was last seen at quarter to twelve at her apartment complex in Queens when two men broke in and she fled. She was found this morning in the park screaming for help. The suspects will be here any minute and they have already been identified.”

“By who?” Rollins asked, just as the doors opened and what seemed to be the whole department trooped in.

Olivia peered over to see if she knew the faces of the two men being lead away, swearing loudly, to the cells. She couldn’t quite place them, but she was certain that she knew them from somewhere.

Looking back at Cragen, he answered for her as the loud shouting grew dim.

“Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Rollins sat up, slightly confused. “Who are they?”

Fin replied, “Some of the nastiest creeps you could ever meet. They don’t stop at rape and murder; they’ve desecrated graves, burnt corpses in their graves, broken into museums. They’ve robbed a few banks, killed most of the witnesses. Even blew up a police station when in custody.”

Rollins’ eyebrows flew up. She was secretly a little impressed that how two guys could have done that, but of course she didn’t say this.

“Actually,” Munch pointed his pencil in the direction the two had gone, “the two were in the helicopter crash that occurred before the explosion. It was more likely that the explosion was a gas leak.”

Fin topped that with, “Of course you’d say that.”

Cragen examined the four officers at their desks. “Olivia, I want you interrogating Sam. He’s the younger brother and from what we know, he’s more likely to crack. Fin, take Dean. He’s a slippery one, mind.”

As they got up, Rollins asked, “Sir, shouldn’t I know a bit more about these guys?”

“Munch will fill you in.” Cragen sighed, walking out.

Rollins asked him, “Why didn’t Cragen sound too pleased?”

Munch pushed down on his desk with his elbow as he pulled himself back into a sitting position. “Because I had my theories about them.”

 

Typical, Dean thought as he sat in a cell, we find Meg after who knows who long and she’s taken over a hottie and screaming to the cops about rape before they could send her back to Hell. It definitely didn’t help that he’d actually had sex with Louise before he knew she was Meg.

They’d been here to track a witch who may be in league with some demons by letting them possess some victims and had fun torturing and killing their loved ones. It was like a bizarre version of a travel company.

Fin walked into the room and stood across from Dean. “We finally got you now, Winchester. It’s better for everyone if you just tell us why you decided to rape Louise Ross. We found your DNA on her, Winchester. It’s not like St. Louis where you somehow convinced that woman to change her mind.”

“You know, we get out of police cells so often you might as well add a revolving door.” Dean joked.

Fin didn’t smile. “Cut the crap, Winchester. Your rap sheet’s a mile long. You do realize that you could be looking at the death penalty?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I died.” Dean shrugged.

Fin had no idea what that meant. But this guy didn’t seem angry, deny anything or swear. Instead, he simply looked bored.

Which haunted Fin more than anything else.

 

Olivia was in Sam’s cell. The younger Winchester had his head bowed and was staring at the desk below him. In Olivia’s opinion, he looked slightly like a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

If only that was where it ended.

“Sam Winchester?” she asked him sternly, “Could you explain why you were –“

“We could have stopped Meg.” She heard him murmur under his breath.

“Meg?” she asked.

“Louise. Whatever she was calling herself. It was just a stroke of luck that a dog ran through the Devil’s Trap and messed up the chalk.”

Olivia didn’t know what he said. The analysis given by the officer on their trail – before he died in the explosion – was that their dad, John Winchester, had brainwashed them after their mom died back in 1983. Most of the crime scenes linked to the Winchesters seemed to have some occult connection. There was no evidence that John Winchester had ever been involved in the occult, but maybe his sons were.

Then she thought about the name Meg. That was connected to them, wasn’t it?

Behind the glass, Munch was talking to Rollins about the Winchesters.

“So, how’d it start?” she asked.

Munch recited everything for her from memory. “On Halloween 1983, their house in Lawrence, Kansas was set on fire. John Winchester got his kids out – Dean was four, Sam was six months – but his wife died. John went on the road with the boys, living out of their 1967 Chevy Impala. We haven’t been able to find it, by the way. They never stayed in the same place more than a few weeks, but Sam still managed to train to be a lawyer and moved to Stanford after he graduated.

“But in 2005 Dean came back into his life. Some acquaintances of Sam’s said that his brother took him away for a couple of nights before Sam returned on Halloween. His girlfriend, Jessica Moore, aged twenty-one, was found dead in their apartment, which had been set on fire.”

“Was she raped?” Rollins asked.

Munch shook his head. “They didn’t find any evidence of that. But the Winchester boys simply vanished. Then they turned up in St. Louis in March 2006. Dean raped three women after breaking into their homes, tying them to chairs and torturing them. They’d been called to St. Louis by a friend of Sam’s, something about needing help with her brother, who was strangely enough being framed for rape. And that’s where the case gets weird.

“Dean was supposedly found dead and he was buried soon after identification. But the real Winchesters turned up eight months later in Baltimore. They were accused of murdering a woman named Karen Giles, since they were found in her house with her body. They may have killed her husband a few days earlier. There’s footage of Dean at the police station there and it’s just plain confusing.”

“Why?” Rollins asked. How could this get any stranger?

“Because he acts completely different in that video to one of him released to the public a few years later. And he said that a ghost killed Karen Giles.”

“The occult thing?” Rollins asked. Munch nodded.

“They sometimes go to places using false aliases, pretending to be with the FBI or some other jurisdiction. At my count, they can probably be placed at…twenty-six murders, four disappearances, six massacres at banks, convenience stores and a diner and numerous counts of grave desecration.”

“In six years?” Rollins asked, “Where?”

“All over,” Munch told her, “I’ve got the file here.”

He held out a very full yellow file and leafed through it, reading aloud.

“October 2006, a Jane Doe was beheaded in Red Lodge, Montana. The coroner recognized their descriptions when they went there. No sexual assault, though. Another girl, this time identified, was also beheaded in Albany just over a year later. She’d been going to a nightclub. Couple of days later, a guy named Gordon Walker was killed in the same area. He was a known associate of the two guys.”

If that was what they did to people they knew…Rollins shook her head a little and asked, “And the bank robberies?”

“That surprised me,” Munch explained to her, “that’s not part of their MO. On January 25th 2007 they were spotted holding up a bank in Milwaukee. But a man named Ronald Resnick actually held the bank up first. The Winchesters co-operated with him.”

“So you’re saying that they were there by complete coincidence?” Rollins rested her wrist on her hip, surprised.

Munch shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Probably, since theft wasn’t usually their style.”

“What happened to Resnick?” Rollins asked him.

“Died in the bank robbery. Oddly enough, a Jane Doe was found at the bank. She could have been the identical twin of one of the hostages. Except that the hostage didn’t have an identical twin. The Jane Doe was never identified.”

“Can this get any weirder?” Rollins asked, more to herself than Munch.

He looked straight ahead at where Olivia was questioning Sam. Then he replied, “Look at the missing persons section. It’s just bewildering.”

Olivia tried yet again to ask Sam why he was calling Louise ‘Meg’. She’d managed to ask him if he meant Meg Masters, as finally realizing the connection. He’d gone very quiet at that name.

“So you are referring to her,” Olivia nodded, finally getting somewhere, “Why did you call her Meg then?”

“Because she is Meg,” Sam mumbled, still avoiding eye contact, “Meg’s a demon.”

The occult accusations. Olivia had seen Meg’s murder file. She had gone missing in October 2005, before the Winchesters went on the road together. But her body was found in Chicago the following February, after falling from a window. Chicago police had looked at the building where she had fallen from and not only found Winchester DNA but several occult stuff in the room she fell from. But the DNA from the brothers wasn’t found near any of that stuff.

“You killed Meg because you thought she was a demon, or you killed her to appease a demon?” Olivia tried.

Sam looked up at her, his eyes wide and gloomy. “Meg is a demon. Not – not the girl she was possessing. A whole separate – creature. You have – what’s her name, again?”

“Louise.” Olivia replied curtly.

“You have Louise in custody. If anyone in this station has pure silver, it’ll burn on her skin. Or holy water or –“

“Sam,” Olivia knelt on her elbows on the desk, inches from his face, “demons aren’t real.”

“They are. I’ve been hunting them my whole –“

“Your dad brainwashed you, Sam,” Olivia wondered if perhaps Sam wasn’t truly murderous, but rather insane, “and he tricked you and your brother into killing people.”

But Sam only shook his head, remaining eye contact. “Try it. Hand silver to Louise. She’ll burn. Nothing to lose.”

Rollins looked at the pictures linked to the Winchester case as she sat down at her desk again. It was amazing how much these two guys were involved in.

Flicking to the photos of missing people, she couldn’t help but see how different they all were, as opposed to a serial killer with just one choice of victim.

Two men from Ypsilanti, Michigan just before Christmas 2007. That very Christmas, an elderly couple from the town were stabbed to death with their tree. Two men had been seen at the local Santa’s Grotto and they matched the Winchesters’ description to a tee. DNA recovered from the couple’s house was also theirs.

Their excuse for being at the Grotto? ‘We only came to watch.’ Rollins didn’t want to think about what had happened to those that were still missing from the town.

Another missing person was a young woman named Anna Milton. The twenty-four-year-old reverend’s daughter had escaped from a mental institute in November 2008. Her parents were found dead at their home. According to a witness, they’d seen two men enter a 1967 Chevy Impala outside the house. Once again, Winchester DNA was found at the scene.

Rollins looked at the picture of Anna. What did that poor girl go through? Did the Winchesters take her from the hospital or did they break into her dad’s church? Their DNA was also found there, according to the report. That would match up with the supposed occult obsession.

Another bizarre disappearance was of a boy named Jesse Turner from Nebraska. There had been strange things happening in his hometown and a few people linked to him had died. Jesse’s adoptive parents had reported him missing. The kid was only eleven years old. Yet again the Winchesters had been seen with the boy, using FBI badges.

But perhaps the strangest was from Illinois. A man named James ‘Jimmy’ Novak, who had lately been suffering from schizophrenia, had been reported missing by his wife after he had stepped out of the house in September 2008 one night. His daughter had witnessed him leaving.

The following April, he turned up back home. But before anyone could call the police, his friend, who had come round to the Novak residence, had been murdered. Jimmy’s wife Amelia and daughter Claire went to live with Amelia's mother. But Claire kept saying that her daddy was now an angel.

Not in the sense that he was dead, mind. An angel had apparently literally taken over his body.

She had let slip that two men in a 1967 Chevy Impala had saved them from demons who tried to kill her. These men had supposedly killed the demons as well.

If these were the Winchesters, Rollins thought, they had two victims in their sights, two which matched their preferred victim type, and let them go.

Jimmy Novak had gone with them. Interestingly enough, from some of the sightings across the country, he had been seen with them, always wearing the same trench coat. Rollins didn’t want to think about how that coat must smell if it had never been washed and was indeed the same one. Most of the reports said that the guy wore it every day.

She wondered where Jimmy was now. Sometimes the boys were seen alone, but this guy was also with them on occasion.

Maybe that whole occult stuff was true. Maybe the boys had been part of a cult. Perhaps their dad found it when he’d been lonely and travelling on the road.

This was all just guesswork. Rollins looked up as she saw Olivia come in, looking puzzled and slightly frightened.

“Find anything, Olivia?” Rollins asked.

Olivia wondered. Sam had seemed so sincere about the demon aspect. True, he must have been manipulated by his father – and possibly his brother, depending on how much Dean believed – but if Olivia could get some silver, press it to Louise’s skin in front of Sam, show him that he was delusional, maybe Sam could give up what he and Dean did.

It was worth a try.

“Rollins, do you have any silver on you?” she asked.

“Silver?”

“Anything. I’m not sure if the police badges are pure silver.”

“I’ve got silver earrings, but they’re at home.”

OK, Olivia decided, they had enough evidence that the Winchesters had done something in the park so they would hold them overnight. But when Rollins came in tomorrow, Olivia would prove that Sam was lied to.

Rollins went back to looking at the notes on the spree as Olivia sat down at her desk.

“These guys are all over the place,” Rollins murmured, “and so is their MO.”

In one instance, a young woman named Ava Wilson had vanished from Lafayette, after her fiancée had been found murdered viciously in their bedroom. And by viciously, that meant that blood was everywhere; on the sheets, on the floor, on the walls…

Ava had been considered a suspect until someone said that they’d seen her talking to a man resembling Sam’s description. The car was also seen nearby. Ava’s body was never found. Fingerprints from Sam Winchester were found on a door handle.

This was so different to the St. Louis rapes that it was hard to believe the same men were involved.

Then there was another murder which went right back to the St. Louis case, albeit on the other side of the country. A young woman again, this time named Madison, was killed in San Francisco three months after Ava’s abduction. It had all the telltale signs of a sexual sadist; she had been bound before death, semen in her vagina and on the sheets in her bedroom and she had been shot.

There had been the murders of a few prostitutes in the area just before Madison’s death. They hadn’t been linked, but one would-be victim who came forward said that a werewolf had tried to kill her. The description of the person who rescued her resembled Dean Winchester.

This did not make any logical sense at all. To make things stranger, only Sam’s DNA was found in Madison.

A month later the two boys had broken into a museum in Arkansas. They’d been caught and sent to the local prison, but they had managed to escape. Rollins made a mental note to talk to the lawyer who had been involved in that case.

In January 2008 three women were killed at a house in Sturbridge in Massachusetts. Yet again, Winchester DNA was found on the premises. But these women were not sexually assaulted.

Just three weeks after that, the two had been at the police station, in Monument, Colorado. The detective on their case, FBI Agent Viktor Henriksen, had been killed there, just after he had said that the two of them had died in a helicopter crash at the station hours prior. Wouldn’t an FBI Agent contact his superiors immediately if that’s what happened?

And the explosion, as Munch said, more resembled a gas leak than arson.

It wasn’t only Gordon who had crossed the two and wound up dead. A twenty-four-year-old woman named Bela Talbot had been savaged in her motel room in Erie, Pennsylvania. This was back at the beginning of May 2008. She had sold artifacts online and it was believed the Winchesters were doing business with her numerous times over the past year.

A nurse named Cindy McClellan was abducted from a hospital in Ilchester, Maryland. Her body was found outside a church which had been abandoned for decades. And inside the church had been the body of a Jane Doe. A Jane Doe who had been seen, on camera, abducting Cindy from the hospital, along with Sam Winchester.

But what was weirdest is that Cindy’s body had been thrown back against the wall, as if by an unseen force.

Their most recent connected crime was another Jane Doe, found in a motel room that had been booked by the brothers in Seattle. Again, DNA from the two was found in the room after the girl’s murder. Despite the fact that the girl had been fairly well cared for and was estimated to only be between fourteen and sixteen, no-one claimed her. Due to a recent spree of men being killed and their hands and feet removed, the Winchesters were labeled as possible suspects, even though it didn’t actually fit their MO.

But nothing did, supposedly.

Then it suddenly got stranger. The DNA from the girl had been placed in CODIS only three weeks ago. Some bright spark had the idea of comparing it to DNA in the criminal database. And they came back with a paternal match to Dean Winchester.

Rollins looked again at Dean’s birthdate. That was in 1979. That meant he may have become a dad at just sixteen. Then again, given his supposed flair with the ladies, this did not surprise Rollins one bit.

What did was that she was never identified. The cult idea came up again. As did the idea of a much older woman taking a young Dean as a ‘breeding partner’ in a secluded cult ceremony.

Just when you thought this couldn’t get weirder.

6.47pm

Rollins was in Cragen’s office when he was discussing the Winchester case with Huang, who had been called in to give his view. “I think this is something we can work with,” she told him as she handed the sheet over, “this Jane Doe is his daughter.”

Cragen raised an eyebrow as he read the details. “And she isn’t John Winchester’s daughter?”

Rollins shook her head. “I checked three times. The results were conclusive; this girl, whoever she was, is Dean’s direct descendant.” She explained her theory about an older woman taking advantage of Dean when he was a teen.

Huang interjected once she had finished. “It’s likely that the supposed mother of Dean’s child may have been in her twenties and very attractive. Dean seems to like women about that age. It’s the only consistency throughout the murders. He wants dominance, he wants control. And it’s possible that he’s doing that to Sam as well.”

“Threatening him or a sexual relationship?” Cragen asked.

Huang shrugged. “Maybe both. Of the two of them, it seems that Dean could be the more powerful one. But I still say that the two of them are delusional. These accusations of demons, of supernatural beings, of the occult, they may all be a coping mechanism to try and justify themselves for what they’ve done. Or maybe, as you said, John Winchester found refuge at a cult when the boys were young and were influenced by them. It could explain some time gaps when they were wandering as children.”

“But cults don’t usually let their members live away from them,” Cragen asked, “Why John?”

“Maybe he was a member before Mary Winchester died. And these occult killings could be sacrifices of a sort. I’d say that as Sam rarely seems to be involved in any murders themselves, he might be doing this for religious reasons alone, whereas Dean might be doing this for both religious and sexual reasons. But you’re right, Rollins – asking Dean about the Jane Doe could be the key to unlocking what they have done.”

“And there’s still the matter of Louise Ross,” Cragen finished, “She’s at her home at present, she’s taken a rape kit and she’s willing to testify.”

Rollins nodded and left.

 

Fin had gotten absolutely nowhere with the older Winchester.

Upon hearing that he was going to interview a religious nut who might start praying at any moment, Fin secretly wished Catholic Stabler was still here. And not for the first time.

And now he had a piece of information about a girl who died only weeks back.

“Dean,” Fin sat across from the tired, half-asleep and worried man, “I need to ask you about the possibility of sexual abuse in your childhood.”

That made Dean look up. He pressed his lips together and glared at Fin. “You talk about my dad that way, I’ll rip your –“

“From a woman.” Fin spoke loudly and clearly, “An older woman.”

Dean sat back. He was now really confused. These cops thought that he cut up women because he’d had a Mrs. Robinson? The thought was so ridiculous that Dean found himself smirking.

“No.” He shook his head, still smiling at Fin. “I’ve been around, yes. Fathered any kids? Maybe. I had a lot of sex. But I don’t know if I have any. But they were strictly my age if I was a kid and adults once I was.”

“The Jane Doe in Seattle,” Fin threw the morgue photograph down, “DNA says she’s your kid. Not John’s, not Sam’s. Not any uncles’ or cousins’ or nothing. Yours. Now, the autopsy says that she’s mid-teens, possible age range is fourteen to sixteen. Puts her birth at…let’s say ’96, since it was back in the middle of February. Give or take a year. And in 1996, you were seventeen. So maybe it’s a teenage fling. Maybe it’s statutory rape. But given how most of your female victims are in their twenties, the baby momma was in her twenties when you were a Backstreet Boy. Of course, it depends on what state you were doing the deed in…”

“Her name’s Lydia.”

Fin looked up. Dean held his head in his hands and his answer was muffled. But then he raised his head. He seemed completely defeated and very tired. “The mom’s named Lydia. And it was in Seattle. The girl…my daughter…she’s Emma. Never knew Lydia’s surname. Don’t think she has one.”

The age of consent in Washington is 16. This did not make Fin feel much better. But at least they were getting somewhere.

“And when did you…interact with Lydia?” Fin asked.

He certainly didn’t expect the answer.

“The day before Emma tried to kill me.”

11pm

Fin wondered if perhaps Dean was mad. Of course he was. He was a serial killer whose MO darted about like a game of ping-pong, lived out of a car with his brother and said that his obvious teenage daughter had been conceived the night before she died.

Fin was lying on his back as he stared at the ceiling above his bed. It was absurd. They stuck to their story like limpets.

A flash of lightning lit up the room. Just for a split second, Fin thought he saw the outline of someone illuminated against the cupboard during the flash.

An outcome with large angel wings.

He lay back down on his bed. The stress was getting to him.

Olivia examined the case file at the station, after everyone else had gone home.

The religious nature of all this stuck out immensely. According to Doctor Huang, killers were usually only one type, not have a team where one was motivated by religion and the other by sexual desire. She wondered about having Rollins interview Dean tomorrow. She was young and attractive. Huang could see how the suspect reacted.

But sometimes things happened at the towns the crimes took place in before the Winchesters were seem arriving. When the murder of Amy Pond occurred in October, the murder of a drug dealer had occurred days before. In one case where they had been traced by credit cards – and mentions of the car – to a hotel in January 2007, an unexplained death had happened in the house days before they checked in, weren’t around when another death happened and a third had been an old lady dying of natural causes. On top of that, the brothers had saved a girl from drowning in the pool. Of course it may not have been the brothers, but how many pairs of brothers could you think of who drove around in a distinctive car?

So were these boys heroes or killers? Where was the cut-off line? Did they really believe that they were killing threats or did they know exactly what they were doing? Did they belong on Death Row or in a mental institution?

March 17th 2012
NYPD Station
6.50am

Aside from Cragen, Munch was the first to arrive. Olivia had gone home, exhausted from staying here overnight. Cragen insisted.

But as Munch sat at the desk, Fin came up to him. “I’m going to check back on Dean,” he told his partner, “twenty-four hours is up, but since they’re known killers, we’re making an exception.”

Munch didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked down at a picture in his hands.

“What you got there?” Fin asked, peering over Munch’s shoulder.

Munch answered with, “John Winchester. The dad. When I first heard the name, I thought it was familiar, but now I’m certain. Had to find the photo in the back of the files.”

“You know the dad?” Fin asked, “When?”

“Back in Baltimore,” Munch straightened up, “in…pretty sure it was 1995. He’s aged a bit in the photo, but it’s him.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?” Fin asked.

Munch turned to look his friend in the eye and Fin had to admit, he’d never seen Munch look this scared before. “Because that was the day I began to believe in demons.”

 

1995

To be honest, John Munch never would have expected to be locked in a barn outside of Baltimore with a Vietnam vet drawing a circle on the ground with chalk as something with red eyes prowled the outsides. He had come along to ask why there had been a commotion the night before at a local antique store, when an old woman had somehow sent him to sleep and he woke up here.

“Can you explain what you’re doing, again?” he asked. As always, he was as cool as a cucumber.

The man looked up. “Devil’s Trap. The demon spawn’s going to come in and we’ll exorcise it.”

A few seconds of silence passed by. “Okay,” Munch muttered, “what’s the demon spawn again?”

“Kid out there,” the man pointed, “Been hiding in that meatsuit for at least thirteen years. He’s a slippery one. Make a deal with a djinn some years back. Made the meatsuit’s dad think he was a doctor at the local hospital when he’s really a builder. Made the other people at the hospital think so as well. Then he killed the hospital kitten. At present, the dad’s soul is stuck in a snow globe.”

“You mean the collection of snow globes next to the video box sets of about half of America’s primetime television?” Munch asked, standing beside the circle.

The man got up. “Sure. Kid’s making people’s dreams come true by uniting them in real life, if one for a short time. By the way, name’s John. John Winchester.”

“That’s funny. My name’s John, as well. John Munch.”

The man held his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork. “You have any kids, Munch?”

“No.”

“Two boys,” the man answered, picking up a shotgun and walking towards the bolted door, “sixteen and twelve. They’re in school over on the other side of Baltimore. This demon’s been in that kid since he was younger than they are now.”

“So what do I do?” Munch asked.

John Winchester looked him over, before tossing him a shotgun. “You’re in the police, right? So you can handle a shotgun filled with rock salt.” Winchester scratched at the skin behind his ear. It looked for a moment as if he had fleas.

Munch decided to ask, “Where did the kid get the snow globes from?”

“A witch in Essex, Maryland. From what I found out, she cursed some of them. When we’re finished with the demon, we salt and burn the globes.”

Then the doors burst open with tremendous force. A young man in his early twenties stood there and walked in slowly, aiming for John Winchester.

Then he stopped suddenly. Looking down, the young man grumbled. Munch couldn’t help but see the boy’s eyes were now black.

“My snow globes won’t be destroyed,” he snarled, “even if you send me away.”

“You get out of him,” John Winchester spat, “Tommy’s been trapped there for thirteen years while you, the djinn, the witch, that thing out there and who knows what sucked the life out of the hospital you’re obsessed with.”

“All right,” the demon shrugged, “goodbye.”

Then smoke flew from his mouth. Munch stood back, eyes wide, almost stumbling over a bale of hay. The smoke flew back towards the house and they heard the sound of exploding glass.

The two men headed out before they saw smoke dispersing from the house. When they reached Tommy’s room, they found several smashed globes all over the floor.

Munch scratched at the skin behind his ear as the hunter lowered his gun, remarking, “This is going to take a lot of salt.”

Present

Fin held his head to one side, wondering if Munch needed time off.

Munch carried on talking, as if this was perfectly normal. “John found the djinn at a fairground. Never found the witch. But I always kept an eye out for any oddness around me.”

“You mean any oddness that isn’t from you?” Fin asked, jokily.

The older officer looked back at his computer. “There’s a pretty good reason why I didn’t tell anybody. I’d be sectioned.”

For the first time in his life, Fin found one of Munch’s jokes funny.

 

7.30am

Rollins had brought her silver earrings in and was ready to show the Winchester boys that Louise wasn’t a demon.

But she saw Munch enter the older Winchester’s cell. Wondering if she could put this in the conversation, she stood outside and listened.

Munch told Dean, looking him directly in the eye, “I met your dad, Dean. We stopped a demon in Baltimore in February 1995.”

Dean sat up straight, desperate for information.

“I think we were in Baltimore then,” he mumbled, “I kissed Polly Gardens behind the bleachers when we were there. Dad was after a demon who worked with a witch.”

“John’s dead, isn’t he?” Munch asked. “I read the file. He was buried in 2006. He was a John Doe at a hospital until the Winchester boys were sighted there. His body was found salted and burned. Seems to have died of injuries brought on by a car crash.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He only sighed, sadly.

“Listen, why are you in New York? Really? Trust me; I’m a conspiracy theorist. I’ve read a lot and believe most things. If anyone will believe you in this building, it’s me, Dean Winchester. Try me.”

Dean decided that he had to tell the truth. The more they told, the sooner he could find the witch.

“We read about a – death caused by a demon in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Munch snorted. “God has a sense of irony, then.”

“Actually God’s missing,” Dean put a finger up, “but never mind. Man named Adam Robinson. Slaughtered his family and said that a demon used him. Footage shows black smoke leaving his body, but everyone said it was a glitch. Sammy and I went to look into it. We found Meg – she’s a demon who possessed Meg Masters – only now, she was in the body of cute Louise. Don’t know if she’s still in Louise. But she managed to tell us the witch is using the name Lynn Suckle and she’s in Manhattan. I hope that helps.”

Munch nodded. “I honestly believe you. To prove it, I can tell you that your dad salted and burned a boy’s bedroom with about two dozen snow globes lying around.”

Dean smiled. “That sounds right.”

Then Munch told him, “Officer Rollins said she was bringing her silver earrings in to show you that ‘Louise’ is human. What would happen if the demon was exposed?”

Dean breathed out slowly. “No idea. Meg’s a cruel one. But it’s bound to be nasty.”

Sam was asleep. The pressure of everything that had happened, combined with two days without sleep, meant that he didn’t wake up until noon. But when Rollins rapped on the table in the interrogation room, he immediately shot up.

“Sam Winchester,” she told him as she sat down in front of him, while he rubbed sleepy dust from his eye, “my name is Amanda Rollins. I am here because you said that Louise – Meg – is a demon.”

He was too tired and bewildered to say anything. Instead, he only watched as Rollins held her earrings out in front of her. “I’m going to take you into the main building, where I will place these on Louise’s arm. If she doesn’t react, she is not a demon. Perhaps then we can talk.”

“She’s going to attack you,” Sam mumbled, trying not to yawn, “Meg will escape. Then you’ll see she’s a demon.”

Rollins managed a smile. “There’s something I can’t work out about you brothers, Sam,” she leaned back in her seat, “you only rape some women, only kill others, steal from banks and shoot up diners. Tell me; why do you change so much?”

Sam didn’t reply. He barely reacted. Rollins stood up to leave when Sam explained, “You have to draw a Devil’s Trap before you do anything to Meg.”

Rollins told herself that he was just being absurd, pulling her into his ploy if he wasn’t mad.

As soon as she had shut the door and turned around, she saw someone standing there.

“Oh, God!” she cried out, placing a hand over her heart, “You scared me!”

Then she asked the strange man, “Who are you?”

He answered, emotionless, “My name is Castiel and I am an Angel of the Lord. I am here because Dean Winchester called for me. He says that the whole police station might be in danger. I need to talk to your superiors immediately.”

 

12.10pm

Cragen looked at the man in his office. Rollins said that he had suddenly just materialized in front of her. She had no clue how he’d managed to get past the front desk.

Once Cragen had looked at the man, he remembered the supposed sightings of the Winchesters and that a man in a trench coat had sometimes been with them. “Mr Novak?” he eventually asked, holding up the picture of Jimmy.

The angel did not look at it. “The vessel I am currently occupying is James Novak. But I am Castiel, the Angel of Saturday. I am on call for Dean Winchester.”

“Mr Winchester hasn’t used a phone.” Cragen responded.

Castiel answered for him, “He does not need one. He prayed and I came to his aid.”

Cragen leaned back against his desk. He was unprepared for this. “Listen, Mr Novak –“

“Castiel.”

Cragen decided to play along. “Castiel. Your daughter is back in Chicago. Your wife is missing. Now whatever the Winchesters did to you, we have people who can help you. I recommend that you see our associate Doctor Huang, but we need to ask if you have anything that can help us.”

Castiel held his head to one side, a little confused. “The demon Meg is on the loose in the body of Louise Ross. The witch Lynn Suckle is in Hell’s Kitchen and has been letting demons use the bodies of local citizens to go on killing sprees. That is all the help I can give.”

“Killing sprees?” Cragen felt worn out just talking to this man. It was clear that he was completely brainwashed. “Right. Well, I’ll call Doctor Huang to give you a look over and we’ll see where we can go from there.”

 

2.35pm

Huang sat with Castiel in the station’s witness room that was usually used for young victims. Given the childlike behavior of the man, Huang thought it was best to conduct the interview in here.

Castiel sat on a chair, staring straight ahead at the doctor, examining him with his eyes as if Huang were an experiment. His arms flopped at his sides and the only movements he gave were when he tilted his head slightly.

“Now,” Huang sat at the table, speaking clearly and carefully, “would you prefer me to call you Jimmy or Castiel?”

“Castiel.”

“Okay then,” Huang picked up some pictures on the table, “I’m going to show you some pictures and you tell me what you see.”

He held up the first one. It was a picture of a stereotypical angel; a woman with blonde hair in a white, flowing dress.

“That is humanity’s perception of an angel,” Castiel replied, “It is grossly inaccurate, since if you saw our true forms, you would go blind.”

Huang put the picture down, then held up a picture of a stake. “What is this used for?” he asked.

“In vampire lore, that is used to kill a vampire.”

“Correct.” Huang began to place it back down, but Castiel carried on.

“But they are incorrect. Vampires are not affected by stakes. Nor can they be killed in the sunlight or stopped by garlic. The only method of execution is by beheading them. They also hide their fangs by retreating them back into their gums.”

The way Castiel spoke reminded Huang of somebody reciting an essay. Was that what the man was doing?

“Right…” Huang trailed off, searching through the pictures to find one that could help, “can you identify these people for me?”

Castiel replied once Huang showed him the photo, “Those are Claire and Amelia Novak, the wife and daughter of James Novak. The Winchesters and James Novak rescued them on April 30th 2009 in Pontiac, Illinois.”

“You said ‘James’,” the doctor asked, “not ‘Castiel’? Where was Castiel when James saved them?”

“I was sent back to Heaven and my vessel’s family were in danger. When Roger arrived, he was possessed by a demon and tried to kill them. The Winchesters recommended that James not see his family again. But Amelia and Claire were captured. Since Claire was from the same bloodline as her father, I took over her body and helped to vanquish the demons. I then took over James’ body again. Amelia seemed…I believe she was disappointed.”

Huang did not know what to say to that.

After leaving the room, he went to see Cragen.

Cragen was sitting at his desk. “What did you find?” he asked.

Huang frowned in concentration. “Jimmy seems to perhaps suffer from advanced schizophrenia. He took on the personality ‘Castiel’ to comprehend what the Winchesters did to him and what they made him do. I don’t know if James is in there anymore.”

“So he is delusional?” Cragen asked.

“Very delusional,” Huang sadly replied, “If he did take part in any crimes, he probably did it because he was scared of the Winchesters. I still say that Dean is the dominant of the two, since Castiel didn’t mention any allegiance to Sam alone.”

“And did you find James’ whereabouts from September 2008 onwards?”

Huang shook his head. “The cult theory would still stand. But I can’t make a diagnosis as of yet. Novak’s medical records would still indicate schizophrenia. Maybe once he’s finally taken pills, he might be better. But it does appear that Castiel is the controlling personality. Whether he named the personality, or Dean Winchester or someone else named him, I’m not sure.”

 

4.20pm
Olivia Benson’s Apartment

Olivia sat up on the couch, rubbing her eye with her knuckle. She felt exhausted and simply wanted to get this case over.

She heard the doorbell ring and stood up to answer it. When she opened the door, she saw Louise Ross standing there.

“Oh, Louise,” Olivia pulled the hair from her eyes, “I didn’t give you my address.”

“That’s fine,” Louise smirked, “can I come in?”

“Well, it’s not exactly regulation…” Olivia began, but Louise placed a firm hand on the door and pushed it.

Then her eyes went black.

Olivia stared, wondering if she’d imagined it, before Meg pushed her back hard, sending her flying back to the couch.

Meg strolled in, followed by two men, also with black eyes. Olivia sat up in her seat before she stood, trying to get past them and grab her gun in her coat.

The taller of the two men, a Hispanic with a short beard, held Olivia in an iron grip. Olivia struggled but she didn’t get anywhere.

Meg came up to Olivia and grinned horribly. “You should have believed the Winchesters when they said I was a demon.”

Olivia couldn’t comprehend what the woman was saying. Then Meg waved to her friends.

“Where are my manners? These are…well, the bodies they’re occupying are Pedro Hernandez and Lucas Wright. Pedro’s already killed his elderly parents and his wife. He waited for his eleven-year-old son to return from school, but I had to pull him away. Lucas has robbed and strangled a grocery store owner and a neighbor of his. Lucas killed the man’s wife as well. Lucas has also raped and strangled his wife and was in the process of raping his two preteen children when we called him. You see, New York is now a demon’s hunting ground. Four different killing sprees and you lot didn’t see it? You really are stupid cops.”

Olivia had stopped struggling, but still looked at Meg strangely. How was this possible?

Meg turned. “Lynn Suckle has been a dear. She helped some other demons take a vacation to Earth. Trust the Winchesters to barge their way in. Okay boys, kill her.”

But before the one holding Olivia could strangle her, there was a knock at the door. Meg looked tense, turning around suddenly. Pedro clamped a hand over Olivia’s mouth before the cop could scream.

Olivia’s mind whirred. Elliott had given her a crucifix and rosary beads as a going away present. It was in her bedside drawer. If she could lure them to the bedroom, she might have a chance of getting away.

Meg went to the door. “It’s the black cop,” she whispered to the other demons, “What do we do?”

“He’ll want to see her,” Lucas nodded in Olivia’s direction, “Have her answer the door.”

Pedro let go of Olivia, but frogmarched her to the door. Olivia slowly opened the door and looked at Fin on the other side.

“Yeah?” she asked, pulling her hair back.

“You okay, Olivia?” Fin raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all right.” Olivia gabbled.

Fin paused for a moment. Then he said, “Munch said something about knowing the Winchesters’ dad back in Baltimore. I thought he was just spewing another conspiracy theory, but I looked into it and there was an incident with a barn catching fire just outside the city limits back in 1995. I thought I might as well tell you so we can look into it.”

“Why not tell Annie?” Olivia asked. Before Fin could ask who that was, Olivia carried on, “Rollins said that she’d look into their dad. You might as well tell her this.”

Fin waited for a second, before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Oh, I guess I might. Listen, I’ll get Technician Stuckey to have a look at the DNA found on Louise again. See which boy it matches up to.”

Olivia nodded, remembering the technician who had nearly killed Stabler, “Yes, that sounds about right. Do you mind if you could come back a little later; I’ve got a couple of friends from Hell’s Kitchen here at the moment and I don’t want to keep them waiting. You won’t know them; Pedro and Lucas. They’re from my church group.”

“Okay,” Fin looked her in the eye, “Bye, Olivia.”

Olivia nodded, pursing her lips, before she slowly closed the door. Fin rushed down the stairs, taking his radio out to call the station.

As soon as she did, Meg walked over to her. “Right. Time to get busy.”

“You’ll feel better if I do it on my bed,” Olivia gabbled, heart pounding in her mouth, “Give your boys some fun.”

Meg looked up and down. “I suppose I did drag out away from their vacation. Boys, take her to bed.”

 

4.30pm
NYPD Station

Nearly every officer currently inside the building had gone to Olivia’s apartment building. The only exceptions were Munch and Huang. Munch had been looking into the crime sprees lately on his computer, while Huang was still watching Castiel from behind the two-way glass.

Munch had found four such killings lately. None of them had gone to Special Victims, since no sexual assault took place or they were outside their jurisdiction. But these were all so disgusting that Munch hoped demons were responsible.

The first was a man who had killed his wife and then shot at everyone at his office workplace with an AK-47 before jumping from a closed window to the ground four storeys below. The second was a woman on Long Island, who had run over a twelve-year-old girl twice with her car, before doing the same to a ten-year-old girl who had barely survived. The woman had also poisoned all the elderly patients at her work and killed himself by diving into the Hudson.

The third was a man in Jersey. He had raped teenage girls at his daughter’s slumber party, including his own daughter, before raping and killing the other two girls there. Then he had abducted his nine-year-old boy, assaulted him on a two-hundred-mile drive before stuffing him inside a flour sack and burning it. The boy had barely lived and was in hospital in Pennsylvania.

The last was of a man in Queens, just four days earlier. He had abducted a fourteen-year-old girl, raped and tortured her involving a metal spike, killed her mother, killed her dog and ate it, forcing her to have some, before attempting to crucify the victim outside her church. He had failed, but had also succeeded in blinding the victim. The girl would never be able to have children. The man had been caught as he tried committing suicide by jumping into the East River, but denied everything. The arrest had been just after the Winchesters were arrested, which had diverted S.V.U attention.

Lynn Suckle had owned a place nearby for the last seventeen years. Munch decided to look back over the last several years to see if any other sprees matched up.

They did, to his dismay.

About twenty confirmed rapes, eight of which were pedophilic, two dozen murders, sixteen armed robberies and a massacre at a high school in 1998. All in February.

Then two more massacres, one in Queens and one in Connecticut, both at high schools, a school bus full of children hijacked in Westchester County and every single elementary-school-aged child assaulted, a home invasion by a neighbor involving all seven members of the Afghani family murdered, even their cats, during the February of 2005.

Seven year gaps between them. If the killers weren’t found dead, then they denied everything. Two of them were sentenced to death and another had been executed in September.

This was what the Winchesters stopped.

When Munch heard that Olivia was being held hostage, he was in with Dean, telling him what he had found.

Once Fin said that two guys from Hell’s Kitchen were possibly in there with her, Dean had sat up and exclaimed loudly, “Those are demons with her! You gotta let me go!”

“Fat chance,” Fin sneered, “you stay right there!”

“But they’re demons!” Dean snapped through clenched teeth, “You have to let us help you!”

Munch held a hand up before Fin could say anything. “How would you help her, Dean?” he asked the prisoner.

Dean trailed off the same stuff as before. “Draw a Devil’s Trap. If you can’t, block the exits with salt. Any type of salt. Rock salt, table salt, the works. Holy water works as well.”
Fin really didn’t know how to sort this guy out. But Munch nodded as if he understood and left the room.

Dean shouted out loudly, “Cas, I think you’d better help the detective!”

Suddenly Castiel appeared in front of Munch, almost knocking him back. “How can I help?” he asked, his face just as blank as before.

“I thought you were with Huang?” Fin asked, turning around.

Castiel ignored him. He instead looked at Dean behind the bars. “How am I supposed to help them?”

“Demons have their colleague trapped. I think Meg’s there too. Help Skeletor.” Dean told him, pointing at Munch.

Castiel looked back at Munch. “Salt will help slow them down. I will show you how to draw a Devil’s Trap. We must hurry.”

 

4.40pm
Olivia’s Apartment

Pedro and Lucas’ bodies were not very strong. But when demons were able to take over the two men, their strength was formidable.

Meg looked over her meatsuit in Olivia’s full-length mirror. “I think this girl’s rather pretty,” she smiled, “but ugly in the eye department, but a sweet thing anyway.”

There was the sound of a megaphone outside, as the New York Police Department shouted up that they were surrounded. Meg groaned and opened the window, shouting back, “We heard the first time!”

Olivia was lying on her back on her bed. She hadn’t been able to get the crucifix, but told herself that she would the second they weren’t looking. The problem was that at any time at least one was watching her like a hawk. They hadn’t raped her yet, thank god, but she didn’t know what they planned.

 

4.43pm
Hell’s Kitchen

After Castiel had taken Munch to the apartment (who never wanted to use angel air travel again), he had gone to Hell’s Kitchen, where Lynn Suckle’s address was.

The witch worked as a waitress for several different restaurants, but in reality she lived alone in her den in a basement apartment. Lynn’s apartment had all sorts of security, but as she didn’t have angel sigils, Castiel had managed to get in.

Finding a wooden cupboard, he looked at the small glass vials inside. There were about five dozen, all with small tuffs of hair inside. Each one was labeled with a date. To Castiel’s slight surprise, they went back as far as seventeen years.

Then he saw her standing in the bathroom doorframe. Lynn Suckle still looked as young as she did seventeen years ago and was just as ugly. She snorted when she saw him. “Angel, huh? I didn’t need protection from those.”

Castiel simply asked, “Why did you allow demons to take the bodies of innocent people?”

Lynn wasn’t interested in the victims. “I made a pact for my power eighteen years ago. Ten years if I could cast spells. Get rich. And I am. I just hoard everything. But allowing demons to take over bodies is a delight.”

“How often do they take innocent lives?” Castiel asked.

Lynn wandered over toward the window. “The actual spell to allow a whole group in at once takes seven years. And if I allow them to come to Earth in a group, I get another fifteen years a demon. I can avoid hellhounds forever.”

Castiel looked at the vials. “You have a lot of vials.”

She smirked. “I take whatever I can. I immobilize anyone I dislike – namely people who didn’t tip me – and voila! Meatsuits.”

Castiel picked up the oldest vial. “John Winchester,” he read, “John Winchester is dead.”

“Oh,” Lynn’s face fell, “I was saving that. I knew he was a hunter and I wanted to let a demon who would pay me handsomely to take him.”

Castiel disappeared into thin air instantly.

 

4.57pm
Olivia’s Apartment – Exterior

Munch stood outside the main door of Olivia’s apartment, spraying a Devil’s Trap with an aerosol can, the only available substitute he had on hand. A couple of his fellow officers looked at Munch like he was crazy. Well, crazier.

If he could get the demons to come out, they’d be trapped. He stood up, hoping that it was big enough.

Inside her apartment, Olivia Benson shuffled up to the headboard, pulling her legs close. The demon controlling Lucas smirked. “That’s not gonna work, lady.”

But Olivia turned away, pretending she was frightened. Quick as a flash, she opened the drawer and pulled the crucifix out, holding it up in front of her.

All three demons stared at her as she held it up. Meg scoffed. “Amateur.”

But when Olivia backed away, towards the door, the three lunged. Pedro and Lucas crashed to the floor as she ran out the doorway and headed for the front door.

Just as she escaped, Olivia saw Munch beckoning to her. “Get out of the circle!” he shouted.

She looked down and saw that she was stood on a huge pattern. Obeying him, she saw Meg skid to a halt at the front door. Meg snarled and then her face contorted into a hideous smile. She opened her mouth and a plume of black smoke flew from her mouth.

 

6.40pm
NYPD Station

“You’re saying that a demon took over Louise’s body and that the Winchester murderers are people who stop supernatural killings?” Cragen stood in front of Olivia and Munch in the briefing room. Rollins was stood next to him and Fin was sat down.

“Benson, Munch,” Cragen looked between them, “I’m lost for words.”

“It’s true,” Sam answered as he walked into the room, he and his brother having been let out by Munch, “and we can prove it.”

Dean called out, “Castiel! We need your service, please!”

“Don’t raise your voice in here,” Cragen groaned before Castiel appeared in front of the group, wind fluttering around and blowing paper from the table, “Christ!”

Sam told the senior officer, “Castiel. Angel of the Lord.”

Cragen nervously held his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Castiel looked down at the hand. “You shake it?” Cragen asked, unsure if Castiel understood.

Castiel then shook it. He watched Cragen’s hand as if expecting something, but then let go and let his arm flop to his side.

“So how many vials did you find, Cas?” Dean asked the angel.

Castiel turned to see him. “Approximately sixty. I do not know if she hid any more away. Some of them were dated 1995.”

Dean swore.

“So –“ Olivia held a finger up, “forgive me if I’m a little sketchy on this, but if you were to – break the vials, then the victims would no longer be a possibility for possession?”

“Hit the hole in one, Benson.” Dean remarked.

Sam glanced in Cragen’s direction. “The only problem is that we can’t exactly barge into her home and salt and burn everything.”

“And since she hasn’t actually broken any laws, getting a warrant is out of the question.” Cragen mumbled, placing his hands on his hips in thought.

“That will not be a problem.” Castiel looked at everybody in the room in a very slow glance. The police officers didn’t want to know what the angel was thinking, but they doubted it was anything good.

Cragen exhaled. He was not getting paid enough for this. “Right, Fin, you and Munch go and interrogate the two – victims, I guess – found at the scene. See what they can give us. Benson, you go with the angel to the witch’s apartment. You two,” he pointed at the Winchesters, “are technically still charged with rape and attempted murder and no judge is going to believe that a demon took over the woman’s body, so I’d say that you stay here for now and try to help us in guarding this place from any supernatural beings that might come in here. That’s a sentence I’d never thought I’d say.”

“You’d be surprised how often people tell us that.” Sam somehow managed a smile.

Cragen looked at his officers. “Treat this like any other case, guys. We just happen to have demons instead of perverts.”

“Although those two might overlap.” Dean pointed out.

“Right,” Cragen muttered.

 

6.50pm
Suckle’s Apartment – Exterior

Olivia rapped on the door of the apartment, not entirely certain what she would find. “NYPD! Open up!”

The door didn’t open. “Should I knock it down?” she whispered to Castiel.

When he didn’t answer, Olivia kicked it out at the door with her heel. It barely budged, so she looked at Castiel. “Can you – shove it out the way or turn it to dust or something?”

“I am afraid –“

“Never mind,” Olivia yanked a window open, “you coming?”

“Since Lynn Suckle is aware of my presence, I believe she may have added an angel sigil to the building, which will prevent me from entering.”

Great.

Inside, Olivia shone her flashlight about. The place was oddly empty, suggesting that the witch had left quickly. Olivia knew all too well the annoyance and fear that a fleeing suspect caused. As she looked about, she saw a smashed cupboard on the floor.

Cautiously, she used her flashlight to pull the door open. “Castiel!” she called out, “There’s a bunch of vials here. They’ve all got hairs inside.”

“Do not touch them,” Castiel firmly told her, “When the Winchesters are freed, they can come and salt and burn these. Luckily, the hairs are only used for one spell before they are discarded. The demons cannot return to the meatsuits they possessed in your home.”

Olivia did not feel better, even though she thought that he was trying to comfort her. It was hard to tell.

 

7pm
NYPD Station

Fin looked across from Pedro. At least, the real Pedro. The demon had escaped, but the very confused and frightened man was still sitting here. The poor man was looking at a hefty sentence for double homicide and Fin had no way of helping him.

But he tried anyway.

“Pedro, these…beings…may come after your son if you don’t help us.” Fin had no idea if that was true, but he had to try.

Pedro shook his head. “The witch took my hair yesterday. She dabbed this ointment on the area behind my ear. It itched like anything. Then the demon took me…it was horrible.”

Munch was in the other room, talking to Lucas. The man was almost in tears about how he would go to prison and his children would think he was a murderous pedophile.

Munch tried his best. “Lucas, if you could tell us what happened when the witch…”

“She ripped my hair from my head,” Lucas banged on the table, “put this ointment on my head. That lady demon, Meg she called her, wasn’t – she didn’t use the witch’s spell.”

So Meg could be anywhere.

 

8.30pm
Central Park

Only thirty yards from where the Winchesters had attempted to exorcize Meg, the two brothers were now standing behind a cluster of trees with Benson and Rollins, the officers’ hands on their holsters. Castiel stood dumbly beside a large tree, staring into space. When Olivia had asked Dean what the angel was doing, the older Winchester said this was normal.

Benson doubted her life would be normal again.

“So how you know the suspect will be here?” Rollins asked Sam as he loaded a gun with rock salt. She still felt uncomfortable saying ‘the witch’ or ‘the demon’.

“Because when we were here before the NYPD decided to arrest us,” Sam cocked the gun and stood up, “we were tracking Suckle to the trees here. Since her stash is still underneath the tree where Cas is standing, she’ll be by soon.”

Rollins had no idea what to say. But before she had the opportunity, they heard the sound of a woman screaming.

Olivia and Rollins held their guns up, ready to shoot, though they doubted it would work. Dean pushed his way through the trees and looked down a bank. Lynn Suckle was lying on the ground, with Louise’s body kneeling in front of her. And what looked like most of the witch was laid across the ground.

Dean swore.

Meg turned her head to look. “You guys are pathetic.” she spat, before a plume of smoke exited from Louise’s mouth for the second time that day and flew into the sky.

As the female officers stood by Dean, Olivia asked, “Why did she just leave?”

Sam shook his head, anxious. “She’s planning something else.” Then he pulled some matches from his pocket and picked up a salt shaker from the ground, walking over to the tree.

“I hope you’re not burning Central Park to a crisp.” Olivia frowned at him.

Sam turned back and smiled, “No. Just her magic.”

 

10.36pm
NYPD Station – Forensic Laboratory

Fin sat down on the chair as he saw Munch open the cupboard of glass vials. The two of them were here to get rid of the evidence linking Dean to ‘Louise’s’ assault. Only Fin had been sent down, but for some reason, Munch decided to come too.

Once the Winchesters had returned to the NYPD Station, Cragen had no idea how to sort the case out. When Olivia asked about Meg’s plan, Sam had told her that he wasn’t sure. Maybe it would happen tonight, maybe in a year. But he’d see her again.

Rollins has clocked out, exhausted. Huang said he needed time off.

“What exactly are you doing?” Fin asked his partner.

Munch looked over his shoulder. “Oh, just conducting experiments.”

Fin crossed his arms, suspicious. “What kind?”

“Nothing complicated,” Munch replied, opening a water bottle on the counter, “Just need a minute alone.”

His partner gingerly stood up and walked over to the door, closing it behind him.

Upstairs, Olivia faced the Winchesters in the briefing room. “Thanks for helping us,” she nodded, “and I’ll try to alter the files so that you died when your car fell in the river during a chase tonight. Not that it did, but the police need something.”

“That’s a new one,” Sam grinned at her, “Thank you so much, Officer Benson.” Dean didn’t say anything, chomping his second donut.

“My pleasure,” Olivia exhaled deeply, “I can’t get my head around this.”

“It’s tough for anyone,” Sam looked down at her, “even us, sometimes.”

Then Sam asked Castiel, “Hey, did the names on the vials match any cases we may have heard of? I know you said they were thrown away after they were used, but maybe they’d link –“

“I found one with your father’s name on.” Castiel answered.

Dean looked up from his third donut. He swore loudly, slamming his hand on the table.

Sam could only ask, “What?” incredulously. He was just as angry as Dean.

“I believe it could have been taken from the case in Baltimore,” Castiel explained, “Unfortunately, when Olivia Benson and I took the vials from the apartment, there was one missing. Meg probably got her hands on it.”

“But Meg can go into anyone,” Sam was confused, folding his arms, “Why this way?”

“Binding link,” Castiel sighed, “So when you catch her, she won’t be able to leave her victim the normal way.”

“Hey, Liv,” Fin called as he entered the room, “I think we have a problem.”

“What is it?” Olivia asked.

Fin looked from the Winchesters to Olivia, before he put in plain words, “I think something’s up with Munch. He’s conducting this weird experiment.”

“What do you mean experiments?” Olivia held a hand up as the other three turned to stare at Fin, chills running down the Winchester spines.

“That’s not the strange thing,” Fin said, “he was smiling.”

Olivia had to admit that something was wrong.

“Did you see his eyes?” Dean asked, quickly, pushing his chair out as he stood up.

“No,” Fin shook his head, “but the whole room smelt like barbecue.”

The Winchester boys looked at each other for a fleeting moment, before the two of them grabbed the officer’s guns from the table and started filling them with salt. “We have to hurry.” Sam gabbled to Olivia and Fin.

Inside the laboratory, Rollins lay on the floor, eyes wide and absolutely terrified. When she’d gone to her car, she’d been ambushed by Munch, who had placed her in a stronghold until she lost consciousness, then woke up to find herself shoved underneath a workbench with her hands and ankles bound with duct tape, with a large piece slapped over her jaw.

Munch pulled her out by the ankles as he stood over her, examining her. Smiling, he took off his glasses to see her properly. To Rollin’s horror, his eyes were black. He crouched down and took a good look at the young woman.

“I preferred the old one,” he shrugged, “but I suppose I can have Barbie.”

Taking out a carving knife from a drawer, he stroked Rollins’ cheek as she flinched.

“No use struggling,” he said, in his usual bland tone of voice, “It won’t help. If I’m feeling generous, I could kill you quickly. You’ve probably guessed by now that this isn’t your friend.” He sniggered. “Stupid Winchesters.”

The door burst open and Olivia, Fin and the Winchesters burst in, all aiming their guns.

Meg slowly stood up and turned around, twisting the knife into the table. “It’s actually your dad’s fault, boys,” she told them, “He pulled the police officer into this. When both were knocked out, my witch friend took their hairs for any future spells. Whatever you do to me, the exorcism won’t send me away.” She pulled up Munch’s sleeve to reveal a mark very similar to the one she had worn when she possessed Sam.

“Crud. It’s what I thought.” Dean murmured.

“What’s that?” Olivia asked, leaning towards him.

Dean kept his eyes on Meg. “It’s a binding link. She’s in him until we break it.”

“And you can’t from here,” Meg chuckled, “This is Henriksen all over again, isn’t it guys? Only this time, you’re not getting off scot-free. Winchesters will finally be dead, since their second attempt at burning a police station wasn’t as successful.”

Fin asked Sam, as Meg turned around, picked the knife up again and squeezed Rollin’s hips, “How do we get that thing out of Munch?”

“Break the link,” Sam tensed, wondering if he had looked this scary when Meg possessed him, “Dean used an iron poker. Although any pure iron or silver would work.”

“Well how are we supposed to get that?” Fin grimaced, before Meg turned around on Munch’s heel.

“And that’s the good thing about all of this,” she smirked, “this place is filled chock-a-bloc with flammable liquids.”

Picking up a nearby vial, Meg curled Munch’s fingers around the top and looked ready to throw.

Sam knew that the officers standing by him would never shoot their friend. Feeling in his back pocket, grateful that he’d managed to grab it before they headed here, he pulled the flask of holy water out and opened the top behind his back.

Just before Meg could spill any liquid, Sam had thrown the water over her – him?

Meg snarled, eyes turning black and aiming for him. Fin tried to grab Meg by Munch’s arm, but she held it out, sending Fin knocking over a metal table nearby, scattering vials and bottles, all of which were thankfully empty.

Olivia shot at Munch’s foot, trying her best to avoid too much pain. But she missed when Meg turned to look at her.

Dean had slid under the tables and crouched beside Rollins. She was watching the whole spectacle with horrified eyes.

“Sorry about this.” Dean apologized, pulling her earrings out.

Meg had pinned Olivia to the wall by her throat. The officer had dropped her gun and was trying to tug Munch’s fingers off. She wondered how much of him was aware. This was not how she wanted to die and the officer did her best to try and get free. But demons are not anything like human criminals.

Meg was about to snap Olivia’s neck when she felt a searing pain. Dean had pressed Rollins’ earrings against the binding link, causing Meg to step back and scream as she was sent from Munch’s body.

Two seconds later, Sam was helping Fin up from the other side of the table, while Olivia eyed Munch suspiciously. She glanced at Dean for a second, who nodded.

“Munch?” she asked, kneeling down and taking his hand, “You OK?”

Munch blinked a few times, pushing himself up from the floor. “What do you think, Olivia?” he asked in his normal, bland tone of voice, “I need to find my glasses.”

Olivia let herself smile, before she rushed over to Rollins. Pulling the tape from her mouth, the older woman asked, “Are you all right?”

Rollins nodded, panting. “Yeah, a little.”

Once the Winchesters had gone upstairs, they saw Castiel standing with a large bucket of paint at the door to the laboratory. “Cas, what is this?” Dean asked.

“I needed to be prepared, so I created some Devil’s Traps.” He answered.

“You don’t think we could have needed some help with a demon in a room filled with explosive liquids?” Dean nearly shouted.

“It’s fine,” Sam tried to calm him down, “Cas, Meg’s gone now. But I think you –“

Olivia, her arm around Rollins, reached the top of the stairs and looked at the Devil’s Trap on the floor. “Mr Castiel –“ she began, but Castiel finished for her, sighing.

“There are eight of these about the building.” He looked over at Dean, who now glaring at Castiel like he was a disobedient child.

“You need to clean it up, guys,” Olivia told the three of them, walking Rollins to the main building, “before we can think about fixing your file.”

Series this work belongs to: