Chapter Text
—August 18th 2007—
The incessant pounding that forced him awake was a rather unwelcome greeting to the morning. Although, at first he wasn’t sure if the pounding was at the door or simply in his head. He’d pretty much downed an entire liquor store last night. Dean groaned loud enough for the person on the other side of the door, probably Sam, to hear. The annoyed grumble that followed let him know just how right he was.
The elder Winchester sat up, letting the sheets pool in his bare lap and stretched his arms above his head, shoulders popping uncomfortably from years of poorly healed dislocations.
A cursory glance around the somewhat nicer than normal hotel room confirmed his suspicions. His bed partner for the evening had slipped out sometime late in the night or early in the morning. For a moment Dean was disappointed, he didn’t remember everything but what he could recall made it seem like last night was one of his better performances. His partner had been no slouch either. He was just a little bit bummed that there wouldn’t be an encore.
Sighing heavily, Dean threw the sheets from his lap and began to wander around the room collecting his strewn about clothing. Shamelessly naked as he was, he wasn’t surprised to find his boxers in the bathroom sink or his socks on two different lamps. He was, however, intrigued by the sweater vest he found crumpled up behind the TV while he was looking for his own shirt. He cocked an eyebrow at the piece of clothing.
Dean didn’t remember much about his one night stand apart from the fact that they’d been nerdy, flirty, and downright dirty. He smirked to himself before shoving the vest in his duffle. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d done that, but for some reason it felt wrong to throw the damn thing away. Dressing himself quickly in his shirt and boxers he decided to ignore that for now.
When he opened the door he was greeted with one of Sam’s finest bitch faces. He told him as much and got a hearty, ‘Fuck you too, Jerk.’ for his troubles. Dean grinned, this exchange being the closest to normal they’d had in quite some time.
It was only a week past since Dean announced that he was done searching for loopholes. That he wanted to spend what was left of his time on earth actually enjoying himself. Thus, why he was currently looking for his jeans in a sleazy Vegas hotel. Sam clearly took issue with his plans but he’d been doing his best to keep that to himself. Dean appreciated the effort, even if he had a hard time expressing that aloud.
His much taller brother loomed in the doorway for a moment before following Dean into the room and closing the door behind himself. Sammy made a face at the state of the space and gave Dean one of those looks that clearly expressed just how grossed out he was. Dean just grinned and threw a wink his brother’s way before returning to his search. They were his favorite pair right now, he’d be damned if he left them behind after all they’d been through.
“Dean… we need to talk.” Sam started. He was standing by the window, glancing through the slats of the blinds like he was expecting to see someone. Dean had suspicions about just who that was, but decided those were better kept to himself for now. Instead he got down to his stomach on the floor, lifting the bed skirt to check underneath. He ignored Sam’s words completely.
There was a huff above him. “I’m serious, Dean. We need to talk about something. I’ve been doing research and––“
“Success!” Dean shouted triumphantly as he spotted his jeans under the upper left corner of the bed and shuffled over to grab them. He popped up a second later holding the jeans above his head like some kind of trophy. Only to be met by Sam’s unimpressed glower.
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean sighed, reluctantly addressing what he knew his brother was trying to discuss. “We’ve been over this, the contract is air tight. Ain’t no wiggling out of this one.”
“Yeah, for you!” Sam gestured dramatically at Dean in frustration. The man in question paused in his rebuttal. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting Sammy to open with. Seeing his hesitation Sam jumped on the opportunity. “The contract says that you can’t do or even think about anything, but it doesn’t say jack shit about someone other than you doing something. Especially if you don’t know what they’re up to.”
Dean stilled and fell completely silent. Contemplating his brother’s words. He still didn’t feel right about it. But even if it was just the shadow of a sliver of a chance, it was still something. He looked over at his brother and was pleased if not a bit saddened to see the raw determination on his young face. Sam would be crushed if he did everything within his power and still couldn’t save Dean. But he’d be even more devastated if he did nothing and just let it happen.
Dean knew he would feel the exact same way.
Sighing heavily Dean let his shoulders drop in a clear sign of resignation. The celebration from Sam was near instantaneous as the younger man broke into a cheek splitting smile and clapped his hands together.
“I’ll find a way out of this, Dean. I promise.” Sam was so damned happy that Dean had no choice but to join him. Letting a small grin slip over his face. He was soon tackled in one of Sam’s classic bear hugs. He didn’t give them out often, but when he did Dean made sure to enjoy them. After all, he wasn’t all that sure how many more he’d get to experience.
“I hope you do, Sammy.” A momentary sentimentality took over and Dean pressed his face into his younger brother’s shoulder. “I really hope you do.”
—April 28th 2008—
Spencer watched as the sobriety chip danced over his knuckles, first to the right then back to the left. His years growing up in Vegas mixed with his childhood fascination with magicians left him with a dexterity that many would find impressive. He didn’t think much of it himself, there were far more important things of which he was capable. But that didn’t mean he left all that knowledge and skill behind. He still had some old tricks up his sleeve, just like this one.
“Impressive.” Gideon voiced from the seat beside the young doctor. It was almost as if he’d been listening to his colleague’s thoughts.
Spencer startled slightly, turning to his former team leader with a sheepish grin. He explained his old skills with close-up magic causing Morgan and JJ in the seats across from them to share knowing looks of bemusement.
“What else do you have up those sleeves, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teased with that sly grin of his. JJ chuckled softly but her eyes said she was curious as well. Even Hotch and Prentiss looked up from the files they’d been examining since their flight began. Spencer had already read his through. Five times.
Feeling just a bit nervous under all their scrutiny, Spencer hesitated to show off his skills. JJ noticed the pause and began rescinding the request. Spencer cut her off with a small smile and a whispered, ‘it’s fine.’
Spencer ran through all the tricks he’d learned for coins in rapid succession. Palming, Sleeving, the Muscle Pass, and a few others he’d picked up through the years then ended on a trick that made it appear as if the coin were passing through the table.
His little show was met with a round of applause from his team, or rather, as close to applause as they could get. It was a lot of soft golf clapping and good natured ribbing. This brief moment of levity was desperately needed, especially after their last few cases. Even then they were on their way to yet another gruesome scene.
Three bodies over three days. All unidentified. It was a terrifying precedent. A killer with such a short cooling off period would be difficult to catch. Not to mention if they destabilized and wound up accelerating their already very short timeline.
Each body had been found decapitated and dumped in three relatively isolated parts of Atlantic City. They were each on the complete opposite side of the city from the last. Yet, were still close enough to all the gambling and excitement of the city center that their pool of possible suspects remained upsettingly large.
Spencer flipped open his file to once again review their only autopsy report. It was odd to say the least. The body showed no signs of trauma aside from the decapitation itself. No defense wounds or ligature marks. Not even a scrape, scratch or bruise like you’d expect to find on your average joe. He was bothered by this detail, but until the other autopsies were finished it didn’t mean much.
Aside from the fact that this killer was cautious. Exceptionally so.
After studying the photos of the first body and all three dump sites; an alley behind a foreclosed hair salon, an abandoned glass factory, and a parking lot behind a convenience store, his attention shifted.
Before they left Quantico, Garcia printed a map of Atlantic City for him. He flipped to it now. The page was already marked with all of the dump locations. Something he finished in pre-flight. Now he closely studied each area, searching for anything that could connect these cases further. Some pattern or variable that would reveal itself and make all of this make sense.
The intense scrutiny he visited upon his map did little to reveal its secrets. After an hour of staring he leaned back in his seat, releasing a heavy sigh.
“Stuck?” His mentor was considering him thoughtfully over the brim of his reading glasses.
“I suppose you could say that…” Spencer trailed off. The last few years hadn’t exactly been the easiest. He’d come to doubt himself more often than he liked.
“I suppose I could.” Gideon returned with the ghost of a smile.
“It’s just…” Spencer paused, thinking over what he wanted to say next very carefully. “I know we have more evidence to gather. We barely have anything so far. But,” he stopped again to lick his lips, a nervous habit from his youth, “I can’t help but feel like something is missing. Something integral.”
Gideon was silent for quite some time. When he spoke again it was with a small hum.
“There’s always something missing, Spencer.” He looked at his young companion then, nothing but sympathy and years spent under the crushing weight of expectation in his eyes. “It’s our job to find it.”
******
Dean flicked up the collar of his leather jacket with a quiet snap. He was supposed to be here three days ago, but no, life wasn’t that simple for Dean Winchester. Instead of arriving in Atlantic City to drown in booze, drugs, and sex like he’d planned, he found himself right smack in the middle of vamp territory.
Not one, not two, but four of the damn suckers!!
Catching on to them was the easy part. Scouting out their home base had proven itself a bit more… challenging. Each night when he tried to get close at least one of them stumbled upon him and he was forced to gank ‘em then retreat. He had no doubts there were more back at base.
Last night, however, he had the dubious fortune of being discovered by two blood suckers coming home from a kill. The ensuing fight was one he’d rather not get a callback for. It would’ve been easier with Sam but the stubborn bastard was determined to break the deal, so Dean was forced to go it alone.
He managed just fine on his own. Thank you very much.
But all of this meant that he couldn’t risk the whole swarm realizing he was in town. Which is how he wound up moving and dumping vamp bodies for the first time in his life.
Usually they just left ‘em where they dropped. Barring the innocent ones, the ones who had yet to drink a single drop. Dean usually gave those as close to a proper burial as he could manage. But he needed to buy a little time to prepare before launching an all out assault on their nest. So here he was, laying out vamp bodies at random locations across the city.
Dean wasn’t exactly a stranger to the abandoned places one happens upon in the middle of a big city, so finding the disposal sites was easy enough.
In the moment, he debated taking the heads with him. Not his favorite idea but he worried about the nest figuring out their people were gone. Unfortunately, he knew the second they heard about headless bodies in the city they’d land on hunters as the cause pretty quickly.
He wound up leaving them with their heads. It felt weird to just drop them near the bodies though, so before he knew it he found himself lining the heads up with their bodies. Wincing the entire time at just how fucking insane the whole thing looked.
He gets why so many people think they’re serial killers.
After three days of this shit he finally put in a call to Bobby at about 4:00 am that morning. Asking if he could contact any hunters in the area for backup. No dice so far.
Now, only two hours later, Dean was just so goddamn tired of the whole fucking thing. He decided it would be better to lay low for a night or two. Try to unwind and have some fun rather than spend his last two weeks as a pin cushion. After all, the past eight months hadn’t exactly been all fun and games. There was that whole mess with Lisa and Ben that he really wished he could just drink away.
So, he’ll do his best to drink himself stupid. Then, if no one shows up to help out, he’ll deal with the fucking nest.
He shook his head in irritation as he parked Baby in the back lot of some rinky-dink casino on the edge of town. After grabbing his bags he headed around front and mounted the steps. Trying to force a jaunty bounce as he went.
The place wasn’t exactly the Hard Rock but you wouldn’t hear a complaint out of Dean. It was fancier than any motel he’d ever stayed in and that was enough for him.
Once inside he quickly arranged for his room. The second he opened the door his bags were dropped on the armchair and he was collapsing on the bed in exhaustion. For now, a nap. But soon enough he’d be heading back to the casino floor, and most importantly, the bar.
He was going to enjoy himself damnit!