Fic: Another Kind of Trap
Aug. 12th, 2006 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title Another Kind of Trap (11/?)
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Rating R
Spoilers everything through Devil's Trap
Summary The Winchesters need help after the events of Devil's Trap. Luckily, Sam has made arrangements for this eventuality. He just failed to inform Rachel Adams of his plans. Sequel to Captured Soul and Kitsune
Pairing Dean/OFC
Author's Note: I was going over past parts, and I relized Sam has a broken shoulder that I kind of ignored. I'll be going back and referencing it in previous parts; just don't be surprised if it gets mentioned now. See kids? This is why we need betas. :P
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
"Okay, so, what do you have for me?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands together briskly.
"Why is it," Sam asked, moving from the wheelchair they'd brought him down in to a chair, "me and Rachel are doing all the work while you play team leader?"
"One word. Morphine." Dean batted his eyes at his brother, winning smile on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Ah. You make a good point."
"So?" He moved his gaze from Sam to Rachel, who was perched on the edge of the bed, a large book in her lap. Her hair was mussed, lips swollen, and eyes glowing.
Looks like Dean had taken his advice. Thank God. The tension between the two of them had been ridiculous. Well, not so much the tension, but Rachel's insecurity. The way she kept pretending that she didn't care if Dean loved her or not, event though it was obviously killing her not knowing. Now she knew.
And she looked beautiful.
Crap. Stop it, Sam, he warned himself. His relationship with Dean was hazardous enough without Sam suddenly pining after the one girl who Dean had ever gone after who knew about their life before. And, anyway, Sam didn't want her.
He just had no idea why he couldn't stop thinking about her.
"We're going to trap it in a Pandora's Box," Rachel was saying. She turned the pages in the book and passed it over to Dean.
"Pandora's Box? Like the think from that Greek story with all that dark shit in it?" Dean said. He frowned down at the page.
Sam nodded. "Sort of. Turns out, like most myths, there's some basis to it. In ancient times, people--priests and stuff--would construct boxes made of oak with a glass panel on one side. They'd use the boxes to trap demons inside."
"Sometimes, one box could hold up to a hundred demons or so."
"How big were the boxes?"
Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. The one we'll make won't have to be big. It's not even going to hold a demon, just bits of one."
Dean frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "And you're sure it'll work? I mean, how will it get the demon parts out? A spell or incantation or what?"
"The box works as a magnet, if constructed properly," said Sam.
"So why don't people use it in exorcisms all the time? I mean, sounds like it's just what we could have used on that plane, you know? Or with Meg." Dean cocked his eyebrow and shrugged. Then he winced and inhaled hard before dousing himself with another dose of morphine. "It seems to easy."
Rachel put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed. "Well, Pandora's boxes aren't well known. I've never heard about them until I came across it in the book. The book comes from Greece; it belongs to my great aunt two times removed or something. My dad borrowed it from her for something he was working on. When I got the call, he threw everything he could into the trunk of my car. I almost didn't unpack it because it's written in Greek..."
"Thank God!" Dean exclaimed. His head feel back. "I thought I was going crazy."
"No one's saying you aren't," Sam said.
He scowl at Sam, then turned to Rachel. "You read Greek?"
She nodded. "I'm not great, but I know it. I speak a bit, too."
Dean smiled at her and said, "I'd say something about your brain, but mine isn't working at the moment."
"You can zing me later," she promised. She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Sam tried not to think about the dream.
"So. How do we get our hands on one of these?" Dean asked. He looked back at the book and frowned, obviously forgetting it was written in Greek.
"According to the book, they can be made," said Sam. "It's just a matter of getting the materials."
"Only you have to be precise. Specific kind of oak. Specific part of the tree. Put together a specific way, that sort of thing. I mean, it can be done, but." Rachel pulled out her phone and flipped it open. "This might be faster."
The phone beeped as she scrolled through her address book. Then she stopped, pressed a button, and put it to her ear. "Hello, Samuel Mott? This is Rachel Adams, Dr. Chris Adams' daughter?" She paused, then nodded. "Right. I'm looking for a box, made in Greece, commonly called a Pandora's box." Another pause, then she cracked half a grin. "Unoccupied, please. I'm planning to use it to trap something."
"Dude, if this thing's so rare, why does this guy know about it?" Dean asked, too loudly. Half asleep, too.
Out of developing habit, Sam glanced at the monitors next to Dean's bed. His heart rate had dropped down a beat after gaining two that morning. The doctor's had said not to worry, that it appeared his heart was gaining strength and with rest and physical therapy, could reach a normal rate again. Still, until Dean had enough energy to get out of bed for an extended period of time and stopped doping up, it'd go up and down. And, with it, Dean's alertness would vary.
"No clue," Sam said, as Rachel continued to describe what it was they needed. "I thought we were going to try and make it. This..."
"Seventy percent markup?" Rachel exclaimed. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Her face darkened at the answer. "I know for a fact that you give my father only a forty percent mark-up." She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Oh, really? What about the Iccarus feather you found for him two years ago? You telling me that those are at your every day antique mall?"
"Never knew the world of antiques was such a cutthroat business," said Sam.
Dean shook his head.
"Forty-five, or I go to another dealer. Oh, yes I do know another dealer, you think you're the only one my parents use?" She winced when she said that, a blush coming to her cheeks.
Riding the parents coattails apparently was hard on her. If Sam's dad had the contacts and money hers did, he'd never blink when utilizing them.
"How long do you think it'll take?" Her eyebrows hit her hairline. "That soon?" Then she cleared her throat. "Good. If you can get it sooner, please do. I might be willing to pay a little more. Yeah, we'll see. Thanks." She hung up. "He says he might be able to get one in a week."
"A week? What do we do until then?" Sam asked.
She shrugged. "Try and find other ways to get it out?"
"But..."
"We need to hedge our bets, Dean," she interrupted. "This is one possible solution. And we don't even know if its going to work. So, we try other things."
"But that means that we're going to have to keep reading," he whined.
Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes at Sam. "Like you're doing any of the reading anyway," she said.
Dean sniffed. "I supply the entertainment. Which we need in these dark times."
"No kidding." Rachel yawned and lay back on the bed next to Dean.
He poked her in the leg. "Hey. What's an Iccarus feather?"
"You know the Greek myth? About the kid who flew too close to the sun?"
"Yeah?"
"Legend says that someone found the feathers, dipped them in bronze. And the feathers have powers." She yawned again. "They're especially useful in getting rid of poltergeists."
"Why?" Sam asked. "That makes no sense."
She shrugged. "They were found by a holy man who used a special kind of bronze from a shield reportedly used by Peruses or Hercules or something. Anyway, he used it against this slew of poltergeists that took up shop in this town in Main last year."
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Dad and I were on our way when we stumbled across a red cap."
"Those are Scottish." Rachel raised her head, eyes open.
Dean gave her a huge, lopsided grin. "That's what made it so cool. We couldn't even figure out what it was at first. Who woulda thought a Scottish... demon thing would be shacking up in an old mansion in Indiana?"
"Who woulda thought a Japanese demon would be preying on intellectuals at American universities?" Sam said idly.
Rachel froze. God, her eyes locked on his and she just looked... like he'd slapped her or something.
Dammit.
"Rachel..."
"It's okay." She smiled, wanly. "Anyway. Red cap, huh? You'll have to tell me all about that. Maybe I can sell a story off it."
Dean stopped glaring at Sam long enough to turn his attention to Rachel. "Oh, right. I forgot that you're making money off us now."
"Well, I knew you had to be good for something."
She still sounded stilted. Embarrassed.
Sam felt like shit.
Luckily, a nurse appeared at that moment. "Sam. We need you back in your room now."
He nodded and eased himself back into the wheelchair. For once he wasn't upset at having to leave.
* * *
"And this is your room," Rachel said, opening the door across from the room she'd designated as hers. "I guess. I mean, I suppose if you really want, you can have that one, but I figured that you might want to share the room with Dean. Because, well..."
"We're joined at the hip?" said Sam with a wry smile. "Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for not assuming we wanted to share a bed, though."
Rachel smirked at him. "Crossed my mind. You two are close."
"Not that close." He punched her in the shoulder, lightly. Treading lightly after the awkwardness at the hospital. All the awkwardness, starting with the dream and ending with him stuffing his foot in his mouth over the kitsune.
When the doctor had said Sam was finally being released, he'd been tempted to refuse. It wasn't that he didn't want to get out of the hospital and back to a semblance of freedom; it was just that he wasn't sure he was ready to live with Rachel. Alone. At least until Missouri came back.
And even then... God, she was going to have a field day with the sudden, burgeoning feelings he seemed to have for Rachel. Rachel, whom he'd never considered anything but Dean's girl. Rachel, who had always been safely relegated to the role of little sister (even though they were about the same age). Rachel, who was self-conscious and shy and arch and nothing like Jess had been.
Rachel, whose smile he couldn't help noticing made her eyes light up.
Dammit.
"There's some food in the refrigerator if you're hungry. Drinks. I haven't had much time to go shopping. Sorry."
She sounded guilty. Like giving up her life to run down and take care of his and his family wasn't enough. She had to feed him, too. And feed him better than his father had fed him growing up.
Sam sighed. There seemed to be no end to this woman's insecurity.
"I'll try to manage," he said. He went to the couch and sat down gingerly. His side ached from the broken ribs. In the hospital, he hadn't noticed them so much. Turns out the wheelchair actually did more than drive him crazy. His shoulder was bugging him, too; while in the hospital, food was delivered to him, and he never walked more than ten steps, except for that first night when he snuck down to visit Dean. And his drugs had been stronger there. Not as strong as Dean's, but, then, his heart hadn't been pulled out. What were a few broken bones compared to that?
He groaned and lay his head back. "You know, though, I don't know what you've been doing with your time if you haven't had time to shop. I mean, what? You're only running yourself completely ragged. It's not like no one's worried about you, either. No doctors telling a banged up patient to make sure you eat and sleep and don't show your face around the hospital until tomorrow."
"You don't have to be mean." Rachel sat at the other end of the couch and propped her feet up. "I've had a hard few days."
"Poor baby." He squeezed her feet. "Never had days like that."
She yawned and closed her eyes. "Did you ever think about it?"
"About what?"
"Hunting. While you were at college?"
He sighed. Rubbed his eyes against the headache that was coming on. "All the time, at first. It was impossible not to. Hunting was my life. It was what I did. And Dad trained us to look at everything with the supernatural in mind. Everything little thing that happened around campus, I thought it'd was a ghost or a spirit or something." It was his turn to yawn. His head felt fuzzy. "It settled down after awhile. But it was hard. Especially since I wasn't talking to Dean."
"Why not?"
"He was angry at me. You know how he can be."
"Yeah. I know." She yawned. "Want to watch a movie?"
"You brought movies? You don't have food, but you have movies?" He opened his eyes and lifted his head.
Rachel grinned at him. "I brought the essentials, Sam. What did you expect?"
He laughed. "You and Dean have the strangest priorities."
"They're not strange. They're just... fitting for a life on the move, eh?"
He thought about that a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right."
Author
serafina20Rating R
Spoilers everything through Devil's Trap
Summary The Winchesters need help after the events of Devil's Trap. Luckily, Sam has made arrangements for this eventuality. He just failed to inform Rachel Adams of his plans. Sequel to Captured Soul and Kitsune
Pairing Dean/OFC
Author's Note: I was going over past parts, and I relized Sam has a broken shoulder that I kind of ignored. I'll be going back and referencing it in previous parts; just don't be surprised if it gets mentioned now. See kids? This is why we need betas. :P
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
"Okay, so, what do you have for me?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands together briskly.
"Why is it," Sam asked, moving from the wheelchair they'd brought him down in to a chair, "me and Rachel are doing all the work while you play team leader?"
"One word. Morphine." Dean batted his eyes at his brother, winning smile on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Ah. You make a good point."
"So?" He moved his gaze from Sam to Rachel, who was perched on the edge of the bed, a large book in her lap. Her hair was mussed, lips swollen, and eyes glowing.
Looks like Dean had taken his advice. Thank God. The tension between the two of them had been ridiculous. Well, not so much the tension, but Rachel's insecurity. The way she kept pretending that she didn't care if Dean loved her or not, event though it was obviously killing her not knowing. Now she knew.
And she looked beautiful.
Crap. Stop it, Sam, he warned himself. His relationship with Dean was hazardous enough without Sam suddenly pining after the one girl who Dean had ever gone after who knew about their life before. And, anyway, Sam didn't want her.
He just had no idea why he couldn't stop thinking about her.
"We're going to trap it in a Pandora's Box," Rachel was saying. She turned the pages in the book and passed it over to Dean.
"Pandora's Box? Like the think from that Greek story with all that dark shit in it?" Dean said. He frowned down at the page.
Sam nodded. "Sort of. Turns out, like most myths, there's some basis to it. In ancient times, people--priests and stuff--would construct boxes made of oak with a glass panel on one side. They'd use the boxes to trap demons inside."
"Sometimes, one box could hold up to a hundred demons or so."
"How big were the boxes?"
Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. The one we'll make won't have to be big. It's not even going to hold a demon, just bits of one."
Dean frowned and rubbed the back of his head. "And you're sure it'll work? I mean, how will it get the demon parts out? A spell or incantation or what?"
"The box works as a magnet, if constructed properly," said Sam.
"So why don't people use it in exorcisms all the time? I mean, sounds like it's just what we could have used on that plane, you know? Or with Meg." Dean cocked his eyebrow and shrugged. Then he winced and inhaled hard before dousing himself with another dose of morphine. "It seems to easy."
Rachel put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed. "Well, Pandora's boxes aren't well known. I've never heard about them until I came across it in the book. The book comes from Greece; it belongs to my great aunt two times removed or something. My dad borrowed it from her for something he was working on. When I got the call, he threw everything he could into the trunk of my car. I almost didn't unpack it because it's written in Greek..."
"Thank God!" Dean exclaimed. His head feel back. "I thought I was going crazy."
"No one's saying you aren't," Sam said.
He scowl at Sam, then turned to Rachel. "You read Greek?"
She nodded. "I'm not great, but I know it. I speak a bit, too."
Dean smiled at her and said, "I'd say something about your brain, but mine isn't working at the moment."
"You can zing me later," she promised. She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Sam tried not to think about the dream.
"So. How do we get our hands on one of these?" Dean asked. He looked back at the book and frowned, obviously forgetting it was written in Greek.
"According to the book, they can be made," said Sam. "It's just a matter of getting the materials."
"Only you have to be precise. Specific kind of oak. Specific part of the tree. Put together a specific way, that sort of thing. I mean, it can be done, but." Rachel pulled out her phone and flipped it open. "This might be faster."
The phone beeped as she scrolled through her address book. Then she stopped, pressed a button, and put it to her ear. "Hello, Samuel Mott? This is Rachel Adams, Dr. Chris Adams' daughter?" She paused, then nodded. "Right. I'm looking for a box, made in Greece, commonly called a Pandora's box." Another pause, then she cracked half a grin. "Unoccupied, please. I'm planning to use it to trap something."
"Dude, if this thing's so rare, why does this guy know about it?" Dean asked, too loudly. Half asleep, too.
Out of developing habit, Sam glanced at the monitors next to Dean's bed. His heart rate had dropped down a beat after gaining two that morning. The doctor's had said not to worry, that it appeared his heart was gaining strength and with rest and physical therapy, could reach a normal rate again. Still, until Dean had enough energy to get out of bed for an extended period of time and stopped doping up, it'd go up and down. And, with it, Dean's alertness would vary.
"No clue," Sam said, as Rachel continued to describe what it was they needed. "I thought we were going to try and make it. This..."
"Seventy percent markup?" Rachel exclaimed. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Her face darkened at the answer. "I know for a fact that you give my father only a forty percent mark-up." She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Oh, really? What about the Iccarus feather you found for him two years ago? You telling me that those are at your every day antique mall?"
"Never knew the world of antiques was such a cutthroat business," said Sam.
Dean shook his head.
"Forty-five, or I go to another dealer. Oh, yes I do know another dealer, you think you're the only one my parents use?" She winced when she said that, a blush coming to her cheeks.
Riding the parents coattails apparently was hard on her. If Sam's dad had the contacts and money hers did, he'd never blink when utilizing them.
"How long do you think it'll take?" Her eyebrows hit her hairline. "That soon?" Then she cleared her throat. "Good. If you can get it sooner, please do. I might be willing to pay a little more. Yeah, we'll see. Thanks." She hung up. "He says he might be able to get one in a week."
"A week? What do we do until then?" Sam asked.
She shrugged. "Try and find other ways to get it out?"
"But..."
"We need to hedge our bets, Dean," she interrupted. "This is one possible solution. And we don't even know if its going to work. So, we try other things."
"But that means that we're going to have to keep reading," he whined.
Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes at Sam. "Like you're doing any of the reading anyway," she said.
Dean sniffed. "I supply the entertainment. Which we need in these dark times."
"No kidding." Rachel yawned and lay back on the bed next to Dean.
He poked her in the leg. "Hey. What's an Iccarus feather?"
"You know the Greek myth? About the kid who flew too close to the sun?"
"Yeah?"
"Legend says that someone found the feathers, dipped them in bronze. And the feathers have powers." She yawned again. "They're especially useful in getting rid of poltergeists."
"Why?" Sam asked. "That makes no sense."
She shrugged. "They were found by a holy man who used a special kind of bronze from a shield reportedly used by Peruses or Hercules or something. Anyway, he used it against this slew of poltergeists that took up shop in this town in Main last year."
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Dad and I were on our way when we stumbled across a red cap."
"Those are Scottish." Rachel raised her head, eyes open.
Dean gave her a huge, lopsided grin. "That's what made it so cool. We couldn't even figure out what it was at first. Who woulda thought a Scottish... demon thing would be shacking up in an old mansion in Indiana?"
"Who woulda thought a Japanese demon would be preying on intellectuals at American universities?" Sam said idly.
Rachel froze. God, her eyes locked on his and she just looked... like he'd slapped her or something.
Dammit.
"Rachel..."
"It's okay." She smiled, wanly. "Anyway. Red cap, huh? You'll have to tell me all about that. Maybe I can sell a story off it."
Dean stopped glaring at Sam long enough to turn his attention to Rachel. "Oh, right. I forgot that you're making money off us now."
"Well, I knew you had to be good for something."
She still sounded stilted. Embarrassed.
Sam felt like shit.
Luckily, a nurse appeared at that moment. "Sam. We need you back in your room now."
He nodded and eased himself back into the wheelchair. For once he wasn't upset at having to leave.
* * *
"And this is your room," Rachel said, opening the door across from the room she'd designated as hers. "I guess. I mean, I suppose if you really want, you can have that one, but I figured that you might want to share the room with Dean. Because, well..."
"We're joined at the hip?" said Sam with a wry smile. "Yeah, it's fine. Thanks for not assuming we wanted to share a bed, though."
Rachel smirked at him. "Crossed my mind. You two are close."
"Not that close." He punched her in the shoulder, lightly. Treading lightly after the awkwardness at the hospital. All the awkwardness, starting with the dream and ending with him stuffing his foot in his mouth over the kitsune.
When the doctor had said Sam was finally being released, he'd been tempted to refuse. It wasn't that he didn't want to get out of the hospital and back to a semblance of freedom; it was just that he wasn't sure he was ready to live with Rachel. Alone. At least until Missouri came back.
And even then... God, she was going to have a field day with the sudden, burgeoning feelings he seemed to have for Rachel. Rachel, whom he'd never considered anything but Dean's girl. Rachel, who had always been safely relegated to the role of little sister (even though they were about the same age). Rachel, who was self-conscious and shy and arch and nothing like Jess had been.
Rachel, whose smile he couldn't help noticing made her eyes light up.
Dammit.
"There's some food in the refrigerator if you're hungry. Drinks. I haven't had much time to go shopping. Sorry."
She sounded guilty. Like giving up her life to run down and take care of his and his family wasn't enough. She had to feed him, too. And feed him better than his father had fed him growing up.
Sam sighed. There seemed to be no end to this woman's insecurity.
"I'll try to manage," he said. He went to the couch and sat down gingerly. His side ached from the broken ribs. In the hospital, he hadn't noticed them so much. Turns out the wheelchair actually did more than drive him crazy. His shoulder was bugging him, too; while in the hospital, food was delivered to him, and he never walked more than ten steps, except for that first night when he snuck down to visit Dean. And his drugs had been stronger there. Not as strong as Dean's, but, then, his heart hadn't been pulled out. What were a few broken bones compared to that?
He groaned and lay his head back. "You know, though, I don't know what you've been doing with your time if you haven't had time to shop. I mean, what? You're only running yourself completely ragged. It's not like no one's worried about you, either. No doctors telling a banged up patient to make sure you eat and sleep and don't show your face around the hospital until tomorrow."
"You don't have to be mean." Rachel sat at the other end of the couch and propped her feet up. "I've had a hard few days."
"Poor baby." He squeezed her feet. "Never had days like that."
She yawned and closed her eyes. "Did you ever think about it?"
"About what?"
"Hunting. While you were at college?"
He sighed. Rubbed his eyes against the headache that was coming on. "All the time, at first. It was impossible not to. Hunting was my life. It was what I did. And Dad trained us to look at everything with the supernatural in mind. Everything little thing that happened around campus, I thought it'd was a ghost or a spirit or something." It was his turn to yawn. His head felt fuzzy. "It settled down after awhile. But it was hard. Especially since I wasn't talking to Dean."
"Why not?"
"He was angry at me. You know how he can be."
"Yeah. I know." She yawned. "Want to watch a movie?"
"You brought movies? You don't have food, but you have movies?" He opened his eyes and lifted his head.
Rachel grinned at him. "I brought the essentials, Sam. What did you expect?"
He laughed. "You and Dean have the strangest priorities."
"They're not strange. They're just... fitting for a life on the move, eh?"
He thought about that a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 02:34 am (UTC)Bad Sammy! Keep your hands off Dean's girl!
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Date: 2006-08-17 04:58 am (UTC)Thanks again!
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Date: 2006-08-13 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-17 04:59 am (UTC)Thanks so much for the comment!
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Date: 2006-08-13 04:27 am (UTC)So excited to see this updated! The way you write Dean, no matter what state he's in, makes me want to be Rachel.
More soon!
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Date: 2006-08-17 04:59 am (UTC)The fact you want to be her, rather than kill her, makes me very happy.
Thaks so much!
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Date: 2006-08-14 01:37 pm (UTC)thanks for the great start to my morning.
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Date: 2006-08-17 05:00 am (UTC)That was so much fun to write. I wanted to expand it, like have him turning it over and stuff, but I couldn't work it in.
Thanks for the feedback!