Nesting

The trip is hard on Sam’s body; mortals aren’t built for teleporting through time and space. He bends at the waist until his knees buckle and he falls to a crouch, bracing himself on the damp asphalt.

“He’s in there, boss,” Billie murmurs to you, watching Sam out of the corner of her eye.

“He’s off-limits, remember?” you hiss at her. Billie reigns herself in with a heavy sigh. She’s never let go of the grudge she had with them. Reapers are loyal to their work and don’t take well to interferences. Steady on your feet, you scan the dark alley as muted music thumps in the background. “They both are.”

You don’t need your eyes. You’re searching for Dean’s essence but it’s hard to pick out amid all the commotion and the icy cold entities you know are inside. “How many?”

“Last count was just over a hundred and twenty,” she informs you.

This is bad. Up on the roof of the building, reapers stand in wait. There are two on fire escapes, three more in the street. They all sense it - but it’s wrong. It’s not the right time for any of those people inside the club. The Reapers know this as well as you do - but they don’t trust the Winchesters. Haven’t for years.

I suppose you’ve figured out by now there’s a nest in that nightclub.

You barely acknowledge Crowley’s appearance as you step toward Sam and offer your hand. His stomach finally settled enough to stand, he says, “What’s going on? Where’s Dean?”

Crowley nods at the building beside you with the dark walls and steel doors pumping with rave music. “He’s in there.”

Sam looks from Crowley to you, confused. “What the hell do you care, Crowley? Why are you here?”

“It’s bad for business, what he’s about to do.”

“Souls,” Sam scoffs.

Crowley shrugs. “I play fair.”

You’re still trying to pick out Dean among the crowd stuffed into that club, moving and shuffling, and there’s so much noise it begins to irritate you.

“Wait!” Sam calls after you as you break into a swift stride toward the side entrance. He catches up to you easily.

Meet you inside, Crowley says just before he disappears.

“[Y/N], talk to me,” Sam insists. “What’s going on?”

With your hand on the locked door, you turn to him. “Dean’s infiltrating a nest.”

“Vamp? A vampire nest?”

You nod.

“Shit. Did you see the car? I need...”

“Sam,” you say. “These aren’t those kind of vampires. This group has been docile for two decades. They don’t kill for blood. Anymore.”

Sam looks at you for a moment, then wipes his hand over his mouth and down his chin. “They’re... you mean...”

“Like that group you ran into a long time ago. The girl you saved from the hotheaded hunter.”

His head jerks back just the slightest bit. “How do you know about that?”

Your steadfast gaze is enough.

He nods. “But... But Dean...”

“Dean’s looking for trouble, and if we don’t stop him, a lot of innocent people are going to die. Just because these vampires don’t kill for blood doesn’t mean they won’t defend their nest.”

Sam’s nostrils flare. “You know where he is?”

“Not exactly. It’s hard to pick him out, but he’s in there.”

“Let’s go.”

The door opens easily for you. You wouldn’t use it at all except that you’re not sure Sam’s stomach could handle another trip and you need him on his feet right now. Dean’s anger stems from you, so Sam is your only hope of talking him down.

The stench of sweat and old alcohol stings your nose as the blaring music barrages your ears. Sam has to stoop to yell above the noise just so you can hear him. You’re very careful not to touch anyone; while you can control your powers most of the time, who knows what might happen when you’re so focused on Dean Winchester.

It’s easy to pick out the humans. Their essences are warm, a stark contrast to the vampires’. You shrug off the occasional icy chill as you weave through the crowd. Sam’s depending on you to lead him to Dean because there is too much smoke for him to see.

This way, Crowley’s surly voice penetrates your concentration. Your eyes dart to a back corner behind the stage where the demon waits by a shadowed doorway. Chivvy along, now.

You grab Sam’s hand and yank him through the crowd, bobbing and weaving until you reach the doorway. You push through and almost instantly feel him. “Dean?” you call out. The music is muffled, and the further you walk away from the dance floor and all those jostling bodies and confounding essences, the more it fades. His essence is becoming clearer; the sharpness of its edge rings out to you like the vibration of a crystal goblet.

“Dean!” Sam calls out, ducking under the low ceiling. The walls are close enough together that you can touch both with your hands, and the carpet smells as though it hasn’t been vacuumed in years.

A shrill whistle draws you past the commercial kitchen to a connecting hall. When you arrive, Crowley is facing off against a stiff-shouldered Dean armed with a machete at his side and a young vampire in a choke hold. His feet are planted shoulder-width apart and the hardness of his expression flickers briefly at the sight of you.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asks, pushing past you and Crowley to stand in front of his brother. “Let her go.”

“What’s she doing here?” Dean’s eyes drill into you but you stand firm. His hostage winces in his hold as she tries to keep her feet under her.

“Dean, look at me,” Sam begs. “You can’t do this. These are good creatures who haven’t killed anyone for dinner in twenty years.”

He’s just angry. Needs to simmer down. Maybe seeing your face isn’t the best thing for him right now, Crowley concedes.

Then why bring me here? You lock eyes with Dean.

Because Moose wouldn’t have come with me.

“Get out of here,” Dean growls at you, his eyebrows pointed at the bridge of his nose as he lifts the machete, but you refuse to go.

“Let her go,” you command in the steadiest voice you can muster. It breaks you apart inside to see him act out this way, even more because you know you’re the reason behind it. But you can’t let him see that.

“Help,” the girl chokes out.

“Shuttup!” Dean scolds, tightening his hold around her throat.

Sam grabs his arm. Dean tries to shove him off but in the scuffle, he manages to free the trembling girl from his grip. He pushes her toward you. “Go,” he whispers.

She wastes no time and bolts past you, and you position yourself to block Dean’s pursuit. Sam reaches for the machete but Dean yanks it out of his reach. “C’mon, Dean...let’s just get out of here. Go somewhere and talk.”

“I know you’re angry at me,” you finally break. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. But I can’t keep you safe if you do this.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Sam looks at you with one eyebrow arched above the other.

Dean’s face twists even more as he tries to ward off the tears that glimmer at the brims of his eyes. “It means she’s a damned fool,” he says, his words like a dagger to your heart.

Sam looks between the two of you as you’re caught in a staring contest. Confounded, he looks to Crowley.

“What he means to say is [Y/N] took the job to keep your grubby souls out of the void.”

Wide-eyed, Sam looks back at you. His mouth parts, but for a moment he doesn’t speak. Maybe he can’t. “Is that true?”

Company. Time to go, Crowley says too cheerily.

“Listen. The vampires are coming. If they see you with that in your hand, there will be a blood bath. That dance floor is filled with innocent people,” you say, ignoring Sam. “Humans. I know you don’t want that.”

“Think about Benny,” Sam tries, and at the mention of that name, Dean’s eyes drop to his blade.

The cold rush moving toward you from the corridor is just moments away from rounding the corner.

You lunge forward, latching onto Sam and Dean before either can slip out of your grasp.