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Fic: Winchester Synchronicity (NC17, Chapter 6)
Title: Winchester
Author: Rivestra
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: violence
~ Go Back to Chapter 5 ~
Chapter Six
Dean didn’t see anything but the inside of his cell for the next week, and that was just fine with him. He needed a fucking break. He just hoped it didn’t mean that things had gone badly in LA – Ketill wasn’t allowed to die before Dean had a chance to talk to him.
Late on the eighth day, Nazim finally reappeared. Or, at least, Dean was pretty sure it had been eight days – they didn’t seem to play head games with him anymore, so meals were a fair indication of the passing of time. Nazim was still a really sickly shade of pale-bright yellow (and how disturbing was that? Road-sign yellow now looked healthy to Dean), but he was moving much better and his breathing was even again. He gestured Dean out of his cell, and they walked down the corridor in silence.
Much to Dean’s surprise, Nazim lead him out into the empty stands above their ring. It was weird to see the place from above like this, and doubly weird to see it so empty. Nazim seemed lost in thought, so Dean sat quietly next to him, fighting to be still against an odd kind of vertigo, like he was about to fall down four stories of steep stone stairs, down into the pit of the ring where he really belonged.
It actually startled Dean when Nazim finally spoke. “I owe you a great debt.”
Dean wrenched his gaze off the sand below, turning it levelly on Nazim, but he didn’t speak.
“How can I repay you Erich?” Even after all this time, that name still sounded foreign to his ears. “What do you want?”
“The only thing I want is my brother.”
Nazim sighed. “Then we’d better get you a copy of your contract.” Dean’s eyebrow shot up; that wasn’t the direction he’d been expecting this conversation to take. “There’s something very strange about the way Ketill deals with you.”
*****
It only took two days for Nazim to make good on his word, sneaking him into Ketill’s office late at night. The contract was gibberish to Dean, of course – not only written in legalese, but with heavy splashes of demonic crap thrown in for good measure. At least it was written in English. Probably.
He’d just finished skimming the thing, eyes resting wearily on Sam’s signature scrawled in blood on the last page, when Nazim poked his head into the office and whispered urgently, “Are you done yet?”
“No.” Dean’s voice was heavy with frustration, “And I’m not gonna be until after I graduate from demon law school.” He tore his eyes away from Sam’s name, the loops and lines of the signature already burned deeply into his brain, and sighed. “Dude, this shit’s worse than Algebra.”
Nazim moved in beside him, taking the thick stack of parchment pages from his hands. He looked at the page Dean had been fixated on and cocked his head in surprise, “Your brother?”
Dean scrubbed at his face with his hands before he nodded, “Yeah.”
Nazim turned back to the front of the contract. “You watch the hallway.” He leaned back into the ornate desk behind him, settling in. “Let me see what I can make of it for you.”
Distrust and exhaustion warred briefly on Dean’s face before they both gave way to resignation. If he couldn’t trust Nazim at this point, he was beyond screwed. He moved into the doorway and left Nazim to read.
Thirty minutes, an hour – maybe even two hours later – Dean heard Nazim clear his throat. The demon was looking at Dean when he turned around to face him. “This,” he pointed at Dean with the contract, taking both contract and contractee in with his gesture, “is a most unusual document.”
Dean sat with a bit of a thump in the chair beside Nazim’s perch on the desk. Gravity seemed to be turned up higher than usual tonight, and he felt leaden. Exhausted. “Just tell me…” …what Sammy’s done. “Just spit it out, Nazim.”
Nazim was smiling. Why in the hell was Nazim smiling? He set the contract on the desk carefully and his hands came up to clasp Dean’s shoulders, “You’re free, Erich.” Dean didn’t react; he just blinked up at Nazim, so Nazim shook him a bit, for emphasis, “You haven’t been under contract with Ketill for almost a week now.” A real grin spread across his demonic features, “Ever since autumn turned. Your contract was only for six months – all you had to do was ask about it. It’s written more like a lease than a traditional sale. Ketill vowed to keep you safe from all comers, barring certain risks, protecting you for your true owner….”
Nazim continued to talk excitedly as Dean shrugged out of his grasp and spun around, trying to find room to think, to breathe. Free to do what, exactly? Wander the decimated world, looking aimlessly, cluelessly for his brother? God damn it, Sam! What the hell were you thinking? He sucked in a few deep breaths, and, long seconds later, managed to push out sharply, desperately, “You said you’d help me find Sam.”
“Listen to what I’m saying, boy!” Nazim grabbed him by the shoulders again, “That’s the incredible part!” Dean turned toward him, managing not to lash out as the Demon’s words began to sink in, “Whoever negotiated this for you did a beautiful job.” Dean’s heart constricted around his unspoken Sam. “You’re promised aid at the end of your term. Ketill has to help you, whatever your next step.” He paused, and Dean didn’t like his thoughtful stare. “Though I can’t imagine what possessed Ketill to sign such an agree…”
“Don’t.” His voice as cold as ice, Dean continued, “Don’t wonder. Ever.” They locked eyes and Nazim backed down, understanding suddenly large in his eyes. Dean was relieved; he really didn’t want to kill the closest thing he had to a friend in this world.
They took the contract with them when they left the office; there’d been a copy in the file for him. Not that Ketill had been under any obligation to offer it up. Ketill wasn’t required to inform him of any of this, not unless he asked about it or “left his care”, and only then if he asked after his six months were up. Fucking lawyers.
As they neared Dean’s level, Nazim quietly gave voice to a question that he’d clearly been holding back, “I’d like to understand one thing, Erich.” Dean flinched at that name; it sounded more wrong than ever. “How did your brother come to officially own your soul? It seems like an unusual… arrangement for someone as strong-willed as you.”
“It’s always been his, Nazim.” The question seemed ridiculous. “Ever since he was born.” His answer didn’t seem to satisfy Nazim, but Dean didn’t care; it was the only truth he knew.
*****
They spent a few hours figuring out what he should ask for, working openly because Ketill must have known they were in his office. Dean had a moment or two of conscience over Nazim, wondering what price he’d pay for helping, but he didn’t dwell on it, refusing to buy trouble before they even knew how Ketill would react. After all, all Dean had needed to do was ask and he’d’ve been told about everything, right?
*****
Ketill rose from his desk when they walked in. “You’ve decided to leave then?” Dean nodded. “I’m required by your terms to tell you that you will always be welcome back here, with no strings attached.” His lips twitched. “I’d make room for you anyway, albeit with slightly more entanglement.” He looked Dean up and down proprietarily, “You’ve been very useful to me.”
Dean’s fists clenched, but Nazim put out a hand to keep him from advancing on Ketill. “Relax, Erich, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, now that you know what’s…”
Ketill looked up at Nazim for the first time since they’d entered the office. “Nazim.” He sounded almost surprised to find him there, and not terribly happy about it. “Wait in the hall, please.” Nazim hesitated, glancing at Dean for a bare second. “I’m not going to eat the boy.” Ketill laughed; it sounded forced and cold and brought Dean’s hackles up instantly. “In fact, I’m contractually obligated not to, aren’t I?”
Nazim nodded slowly. He was clearly wary too, but there wasn’t much either of them could do – they were seriously outclassed in this room – so he backed out into the hallway as he’d been directed, watching his boss carefully.
“Oh, Nazim?” The demon paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking back into the office. Dean’s dread swelled; he felt like he was in a Tarantino movie, making himself dizzy by trying to watch them both at once, taking in the entire scene with a certain sick fascination. “Did you read the entire contract for him?”
Nodding again, Nazim stood perfectly framed in the doorway; it was a shot any director would be proud of. Ketill’s voice was soft, almost gently curious, “What’s Erich’s brother’s name, Nazim?” Dean hadn’t seen Ketill pull the gun, he’d been watching Nazim’s face.
Watching him figure out he was a dead man.
He tried anyway. “Sir, I would never...” Dean didn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t. He owed Nazim at least that much. He kept them focused on the other man, even after his head was gone, after Ketill had turned it into just so much fine dark-golden mist, sprayed across the hallway. He didn’t get a single drop in his office.
It took Nazim’s body a moment to fall, afterwards, and it thought about teetering inside instead of out into the hall, but in the end it didn’t dare. A mirthless laugh bubbled involuntarily out of Dean when it hit the ground – he’d honestly thought that only happened in cartoons.
“Shut the door, Erich.” Ketill was as calm and collected as always, but his eyes were colder than Dean thought was normal. Good, at least it’s getting to the bastard, a little. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
Dean shut the door. He wanted to scream at Ketill, to tell him he hadn’t needed to do that, that he’d trusted Nazim. And he would have, he would have been right up in the bastard’s face, if he’d only really believed it was true. How in the name of fuck had he been that stupid? After everything Sam went through to safeguard his identity? And he’d just… just given it away?
“Sit.” Dean did, dropping into the chair nearest the desk like his strings had been cut, then wincing slightly at the memory his own analogy brought to mind. “Tell me what you want, Erich.”
That was simple. “My brother.”
“Pick something else.” Dean’s head whipped up, and he stared at the other man.
Challenge clear in his voice, he shot back, “Is that excluded by my contract?”
“No, but it’s beyond stupid, and I’m required to help you survi…”
Standing as he interrupted, “Then just fucking tell me where he is!” Dean started to pace angrily in front of the desk.
Ketill watched impassively for a few moments before venturing, “You’re angry…”
“Damn straight I am. He…”
Ketill cut back in, leaning back in his chair casually, “So, you’re looking to get him killed?”
Of course, that stopped Dean cold and he stared murderously at Ketill.
“No?” Mocking disbelief was spread across his features and Dean wanted to scrub it off – preferably with steel wool and an industrial solvent. “Perhaps you should show some respect for his plans then?”
Ouch. That was a little too close to home right now, and the bastard knew it. Dean sucked in a deep breath before grinding out, “I can’t.” He looked up, turning the full force of his glare on Ketill, “I can’t just stay here,” he swallowed hard, “and do nothing.”
“Yes, you boys do seem to have a problem with that kind of…” Dean was across the desk before he could think, hands closing on nothing but air, body careening into the suddenly empty desk chair. Arrogant laughter let him pinpoint Ketill’s position as behind him now. Fucking teleportation! Dean managed to stop the growl rising up into his throat, but just barely. He needed to pull his shit together. Drawing in a deep breath, he picked himself up off the floor, bouncing up to a standing position and turning to face Ketill in the same motion. The bastard was sitting calmly in the side chair Dean had recently vacated, ankle over knee.
That was just fucking…
Dean took another deliberate breath. He was feeling really pissy now and entirely justified about it, so he sat himself down in Ketill’s chair and put his dirty feet up on the man’s shiny mahogany desk. “So what the fuck do you recommend then? I stay here and win fights for you forever? Because you’ve gotta know that’s not gonna happen.”
“No. Of course not.” Ketill actually sighed. Dean wasn’t sure if it was over his situation, or because his heavy boots were scuffing up his desk. “But it’s very complicated – he’s gotten himself into a fair amount of trouble and I do hope you’ll let me help keep you alive.” His look measured Dean carefully, “Both of you.”
Tightly, Dean ground out, “Ok. So what’s the plan then, genius?”
Ketill smiled. “Well, we’ll dummy up your marks and get you sold to the right clearinghouse so your paths will cross… You’ll should avoid the ring from now on though. I can’t keep up the protections on you from afar for very long.”
That stopped Dean cold. “Come again?”
“You’re good, yes.” Dean wanted to smack the smug off the other man’s face. “But didn’t you ever think it odd that no one ever managed to hit a major organ?” Suddenly so many of Ketill’s successes, his power in this bleak new world, made sense. “You won’t continue to be as lucky without me.”
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Ahhahahaha. Luckily, Sammy seems to have got that part covered. I'm sure he excelled in Contract Law.
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