Kitsune part 3

[serafina20]

I'm going out for birthday dinner tomorrow night.



Dean held her for what seemed like forever. Rachel just stayed where she was, smelling the spicy scent of his after shave and the faintly stale smell of dried sweat and car exhaust. It was a strangely comforting smell.

Finally, Dean pulled away and bussed his lips over her forehead. "How've you been?" he asked, stepping back and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Good." She shifted her weight from leg to leg, arms crossed over her chest. "Um… I've been busy. The semester is wrapping up, and I've got my final essay due. It feels like my whole future depends on it, you know, so I'm nervous."

"I'm sure you'll do fine. I mean, you're brilliant, right?" He gave her a half smile.

She returned it, blushing. "Right." Rachel cleared her throat. "So, how have you been?"

"Nothing's managed to stop me yet."

"One almost did," she couldn't help pointing out.

A look of annoyance flashed over his face. Then he smirked. "Well, almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades."

Rachel stepped closer to him, her heart squeezing painfully. "I think that almost counts in this case too. Dean, you almost died."

He turned and walked towards the kitchen. "But I didn't."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I called, didn't I?"

"But you didn't tell me that you were almost dying!"

Dean turned, continuing to walk backwards. "You didn't ask."

Her mouth fell open. "I never asked? I asked like six times if you were all right."

"But you never asked if I was dying, did you?"

Angrily, Rachel closed the distance between them. "You're such a jerk!" she said and punched him in the arm.

Or, rather, tried to. Before her fist connected, Dean caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. She tried to elbow him, but he quickly wrapped her left arm around her waist, holding her. "Sloppy, Adams," Dean purred in her ear. "Very sloppy."

"Bite me." She stomped on his foot which, until that moment, she hadn't noticed was bare.

He grunted, grip loosening. Taking the advantage, Rachel knocked her head into his chin.

"Christ!" he cried. His hands lost their grip, and Rachel tore herself free, turning to face him.

She was ready this time, so when Dean struck, she was able to block the blow. He threw three punches in quick succession, all which Rachel managed to block. He forced her back in retreat, eyes on her face, smirk firmly in place.

She was afraid to punch back, nervous that, if she did, he'd catch her again. She concentrated on blocking what he threw at her, on defense, not worrying about offense.

Which was how Dean, again, got the better of her. Rachel had been so focused on his punches, she'd neglected to see what he was doing with is feet. And Dean knew that. He waited until she'd blinded herself to anything but his fists, then swept her legs from underneath her.

The air rushed out of her lungs painfully. Her head hit the carpeted floor with a hard thump.

"Owe," she groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Tears eased out of the corners of her eyes.

"I repeat what I said before," Dean said. He straddled her, pinning her arms next to her head. "Sloppy."

"Like fighting's ever been my strength," Rachel bit out, struggling. "I've been sitting on my ass writing essays for the past three months." She bucked her hips, kicked her legs against the ground, and twisted her wrists.

His hands were like iron around her. "I heard you took down a wahwee."

"I had a machete. And it just tried to eat me, not pin me."

Dean laughed. "I'd think you'd have a lot of practice. I don't see how people aren't trying to pin you down all the time."

"Oh, you're so sweet," she laughed, knowing that was as close to a compliment that she was ever going to get, yet needing to tease him anyway. Although, at the same time, the terse, backhanded compliments were much easier to take than Kit's outspoken admiration.

He squeezed her wrist, trying to force her onto her stomach. Rachel resisted and tried to get him off her again.

"Hey Rachel," Sam said casually, appearing from her bedroom, through which was the only bathroom.

"Hi Sam." She wrenched her shoulder off the ground.

Dean lost his grip on her. Rachel quickly reached over his back and grabbed him by the hem of his jeans. Exhaling hard, she thrust up her hips as she pulled at him, just managing to almost get him over her head.

Almost, but not quite. It'd been a long time she'd done that move, and it wasn't her best anyway, so it was no surprise that she was so bad. Dean landed awkwardly on his back on top of her, a deadweight holding her down. One leg slammed into the couch, knocking some books she'd stored their earlier to the ground.

"Oh, man," he groaned. "Don't ever do that again."

"You guys okay?" Sam was holding a can of soda and standing over them now. He looked amused.

"Help me up," Dean said. "I think she broke something."

"Your spirit, maybe?" Sam took Dean's outstretched hand and hauled him too his feet. Then he took Rachel's hand and pulled her up more gently. "Hey, you." He threw his arm around her and squeezed. "How you doing?"

"I'm good. It's good to see you." She hugged him back, then stepped away. Sweat was beading on her forehead from wrestling, and her arms and back hurt. She was going to need a long, hot shower tonight.

"You know, I swear I can't leave the two of you alone for a second." He shook his head and glanced at his brother, who was rubbing his neck, a pained look on his face. "Every time I do, I come back to find you hurting each other."

"He started it," Rachel said just as Dean said, "She started it."

Sam just laughed. "How's your essay coming?"

"Almost done," she said. "I had to run to the library to look up and article for it. I got this amazing insight while I was putting together stuff for the case you and Dean are working on."

"Found anything?" Dean asked, still massaging his neck.

Rachel shook her head. "I've just been kind of compiling data right now. I haven't seen any readily apparent pattern." She crossed the room to where her two computers were set up next to each other. As she turned the one on the right on, she said, "Are you sure something supernatural is going after them?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "Bunch of old guys dying really doesn't seem like much." He shot a glance a Sam. "But our dad put wants us to investigate and..."

"And when dad says jump, we say, 'Yes sir," Sam finished with a trace of bitterness.

Uncomfortable, Rachel sat at her computer. They'd talked enough for Rachel to know that Sam wasn't thrilled with his upbringing and resented his father something fierce. He didn't complain or anything, but enough slipped through during their conversations for Rachel to put it together. And she knew that Dean was completely devoted to hunting and the absent John Winchester, which caused tension between him and Sam. Tension Rachel wasn't sure she wanted to be put in the middle of.

"Look," Dean started, but Rachel raised her voice and said, "The only thing that jumps out at me so far is a very slight pattern in the dates of death."

There was no answer. When she glanced back, she saw that the brothers were glaring at each other, identical looks of frustration on their faces.

"Guys?"

Sam looked away first, breaking eye contact. "What pattern?" He pulled a chair from the kitchen table and pulled it next to her.

"Like I said, it's not exact." She opened the file of data she'd started to compile. The program was one of her cousins had developed, essentially a set of index cards that overlapped; you clicked on the index card number you wanted and it was shuffled to the top. So far, Rachel had set up a card for each person on the list Sam had forwarded her, plus one for data that could be drawn from each.

Pulling the relevant card to the forefront, Rachel told them, "The average time between deaths is six to nine months, or thereabouts. Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter."

"Which means what?" Dean asked. He leaned against the back of her chair, looking over the top of her head.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe nothing. Or, maybe, if this is something that's killing them, then it's only one thing. There's only a few occurrences of people who work at the same college die within that timeframe."

"So... there's only one things killing people?" Sam hazard.

"That's my guess." Rachel pulled another card up, then changed the view so they were displayed side by side. "I organized the deaths by dates they occurred and the locations. Interesting to note that the earliest deaths-the one over a hundred years ago--had the most time between them. "

"Meaning that whatever is doing this is using conventional methods of transportation," said Dean. He pulled a chair up next to Rachel, turning it around so he could straddle it backwards. "Makes sense. Even demons tend to be subject to the laws of physics. Unless they're telaporters or can fly, they have to slug through the world the same as us."

"Unfortunately, that means we can't narrow down what we're dealing with," Sam pointed out. "At least, not by that."

"So what do we do?"

Sam shrugged, frowning pensively. "Is there any pattern to the choice of school?"

"Uh-huh. One year, it'll kill at Yale, Harvard, Princeton and the next time it comes around, it might hit one and not any of the others. I can't find any pattern in the schools."

"Well, maybe it's not the schools that matter. Maybe it's the professors," said Sam.

Rachel nodded. "I thought about that. I've been trying to fill in as much information as I could find about them, especially the year they died. So far, I've only done the few I knew personally, and even then, that's limited." She looked at Sam. "I'm sorry I haven't done more."

Sam just shook his head and smiled at her. "You've done more than expected already. This is really going to help. Dean and I can take it from here if you're too busy, or we can all three do a little."

"Do you have time?" Dean asked.

Rachel nodded. "I should. I have to work a little bit on my essay to polish it up, but that's all. I can finish it tonight."

"No rush," Dean told her. "We have time. The next death shouldn't happen for, what? Four, six months from now?"

"About that," said Sam. "But why don't we go ahead and divide the work into three sections, each taking a group of professors to research. And is there anyone who was close to Dr. Wheaton we can talk to? Girlfriend, boyfriend, anyone?"

"He had a research assistant," Rachel said. His wife died a few years ago and, as far as I know, he never dated anyone after. Although the only times I saw him was either at school or a my parents' house. So I really wouldn't know about his personal life. Judy might."

"Can we see her tomorrow?" asked Dean. He had his hand on the back of Rachel's chair, his other arm wrapped around the back of his, chin resting on the top of it.

Rachel nodded, feeling her face grow hot even though he was just looking at her like normal. "We can drop by. She teaches Women in History on Wednesdays and has office hours at one." She smiled. "I figured you'd want to talk to her, so I found out her schedule for you."

Dean squeezed her shoulder. "Good girl. Now, have you got anything to eat? I'm starving. We can figure out who we're researching after."

"Yeah, I've got food." She rose, pushing back her chair. "Pizza okay?"

"That's fine." Sam moved into her seat and began playing around with the computer.

"What have you got to drink?" Dean followed her into the kitchen.

She threw a glance back at him. "Check the fridge. I'm not your maid."

"Since when?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and picked up the phone to order the pizza. As she did, she watched Dean, head in the refrigerator, bottom sticking out on display, probably on purpose. It was a very nice bottom, and Rachel felt guilty for admiring it. And yet, there was no way anything was ever going to happen with Dean. There was no future and she knew that. Therefore, flirting and admiring was fine since it didn't make her any less loyal or attracted to Kit.

"Um, Rachel?" Sam said suddenly.

"Twenty minutes?" Thanks," she sad, and hung up. "Yes, Sam?"

"Why do you have a folder labeled Winchester?"

Crap.

Stomach sinking, Rachel turned. She remained in the kitchen, behind the counter. Her fingers gripped the cold tiles. "It's... it's nothing. I'm sorry, I should have told you."

"Told us what?" Dean's voice was hard.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I heard you. The two of you. That night." She swallowed. "Your mother. Sam's girlfriend, both killed by the same demon. I wanted to help, but I knew you didn't want me to know. To get involved."

"We were trying to protect you," Sam said. "We don't know what this thing is or how it chooses its victims. You could be in danger from just working with us, and..."

"And yet you're here," she interrupted, eyes opening. "You came here and asked for help, I didn't call you."

"I know, but..." Sam trailed off and looked away from her.

Behind her, Dean said, "Even still, if you knew..."

She turned. "What does it matter, Dean? I've already done it. I've been researching anything that kills the way you guys described. And I've been researching your genealogy."

Dean blinked, frowning. "Why?"

"I wanted to see if anyone else in your family have died in fires. I wanted to figure out if this thing is targeting your family or... or..." She swallowed and lifted her hand to clutch her necklace. "Or if it's going after Sam."

The look that crossed Dean's face was one of frustrated defeat. "Why him?" he asked, but it sounded rhetorical.

Rachel turned back to Sam. Lifting her hands to the clasp of her necklace, she walked back into the living room. The necklace came off her neck. She stopped in front of Sam and handed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, taking it from her.

"My grandfather's. He was a psychic and he gave me this. It doesn't do anything..."

"It's vibrating," Sam said, turning it over in his palm.

"Well, it soaks up energy that surrounds it from the psychic world. You guys send off vibrations, and this channels it. I always wear it."

"So you've always known." Sam held it back out for her. "So, I am psychic."

Rachel put the necklace back around her neck. "I don't know exactly what you are. But if you have dreams that show the future, then it's a fairly good bet. And have feelings about the jobs you're on, right? Or, even, what restaurant has better food."

"Hunches."

"Yes, exactly. That's usually how it manifests."

Sam was still sitting, so for once, she was taller than he was. His shaggy bangs fell over his forehead, and she could see a glint of green though them as he looked up. "Do you think I could meet your grandfather sometime? I have no idea what's happening to me. It feels... it feels like there's something inside me and it presses against me sometimes and I can't control it."

Rachel glanced back at Dean, who nodded. He went to the door and grabbed his jacket, quietly leaving.

"Why didn't you ever say anything about this to me?" she asked. She took Dean's chair from before and pulled it in front of Sam.

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "I didn't want to sound crazy."

"You knew my entire family does this. How crazy did you think I'd think you'd sound?"

"I don't know." He sighed and tipped his head back, resting it on the back of the seat. "I'm so tired." He sighed again. "Dean doesn't like to talk about this. He's just uncomfortable with it, I guess, I don't know why."

"You're his baby brother. And he probably understands it even less than you do."

He nodded. "I never told him about my dreams until I had this dream that this lady living in our old house was in danger. I thought... I'd *hoped* that this demon was going to be there so we could take it down. So, I told Dean."

"How long have you had the dreams?"

"All my life." Sam lifted his head. "I told my dad when I was little. I think he may have figured out what was going on, but he never said anything to me."

"Know any psychics?"

"Just one. Missouri. She lives back in Lawrence, and when Dean and I went there, I met her. Although, I guess I met her when I was a kid, too. I don't remember."

Rachel crossed her legs under her. "Was she able to spread any light on what's happening with you?"

He shook his head. "Why." Sam stopped and swallowed, swiping his hand quickly over his face. "Why did you say that this thing might be targeting me? Is it because of Jess?"

"Not exactly. But the more power you put out into the world, the more attractive you become to darker things. You're powerful, Sam. You charge the air around you. I could see something, some demon, either wanting that or... or wanting to extinguish that."

Sam swallowed. His eyes were downcast, looking at the clenched fists on his knees. "So, what you're saying is, Jess and my mom are dead because of me."

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that you might have a right to be worried that it'll continue to come after you and those you love. I really hope you and Dean are protecting yourself the same way you guys told me to."

"We are. We're just... I'm just tired."

Rachel sighed and leaned her arm against the desk. "Have you found your father?"

"He said to stop looking for him. And I can't leave Dean to go after him. I was going to, and then Dean almost because a ritual sacrifice."

"Lovely."

"Yeah." Sam rubbed his forehead. "I just feel like I need a break."

"You can crash here as long as you need," said Rachel. "Anytime you need, not just when you have something to research."

"Is it fair to do that to you and Dean?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Let's pretend that Dean and I are both adults," Rachel said, smiling wryly. "Let us worry about whatever this thing that may or may not ever happen, and you not make it your business."

"Let my brother worry about his own love life?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "Do I need to know how involved you are in his love life?"

Sam laughed. "Dean doesn't have much of a love life. I do keep my eye on his hit and runs, just in case it blows up in our faces. Not that he has many one night stands or anything, at least not since I started hunting with him again."

"I'm seeing someone," Rachel said suddenly, feeling tears press behind her eyes.

The door opened then, and Dean stepped inside carrying a box. "All right, how wants pizza?

Comments

[beluga.livejournal.com]

I love this! It's great! - I almost wanted to point out a few spelling mistakes just because everything else about these 3 chapters are so awsome and perfect.. Hehe.

I can't hardly wait for the next chapters!!!!!!!!!!

xx

[serafina20.livejournal.com]

Oops! I somehow missed this comment. Thank you so much!! I'm glad you're enjoying it.

(And sorry for the spelling mistakes; I'm trying to catch them, but a few keep slipping by)

[beluga.livejournal.com]

Hehe. Awe. I *really* do like this story arc. And don't worry about the spelling mistakes. I just tend to notice. (English isn't my first language, and for some odd reason I get hung up about them) I've seen far worse, only reason I said it was because I couldn't find a weak spot in the fic and I was being silly;-p

xx