have with this story. Nothing is going right and I'm sorry this is both so late and without art. Hopefully I will be able to link the fabulous art tomorrow, but tonight LJ won't let me browse my computer files to upload in the posting box and neither will my scrapbook. That's the only way I know how to do it, so...it will be with the fic as soon as possible.
Title: Death by Unicorn
Summary: Sam spots a unicorn on a class trip to Busch Gardens. Now he's just got to get his brother to believe him.
Genre: Gen with hetish overtones.
Characters: Sam, Dean, OFCs, OMECs (other mythical equine characters)
Warnings/Spoilers: Violence of a unicorn nature. No spoilers.
Dean’s shift doesn’t start until noon so he spends the morning at the library, sifting though books on mythical creatures, trying to find a scrap of evidence that unicorns might actually exist. Sam might be a geek and a pain in the ass but he’s not prone to seeing things that aren’t really there. He slams the books shut to head for work sure only that unicorns can look can look like goats or horses, that no one’s ever actually seen one and that most experts agree that virgins are the way to go if you want to snag one. Maybe he’ll have better luck at the park.
There are fewer school groups coming through today, so Dean’s not as busy. He ponders the unicorn while serving ice cream to the women who come see him every day but by the time his shift is almost over he still has no clue what to do next. He spots his replacement heading up the walkway and waves. When he turns his attention back to the last customer he’ll be waiting on today, she’s standing there.
“Another rocket pop?”
She smiles and shakes her head, glorious locks swaying back and forth. Her smile is wicked. “Today I’d like a Creamsicle, please.” She licks her lips suggestively and laughs as Dean blows out a breath.
“Listen,” he says, handing over the ice cream. “How about we take a walk? I’m off shift now and I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you.”
She looks at him from under her lashes. “All you want to do is ask questions?”
“Sure,” she says, moving off to the side. “Why not?”
Dean grabs an ice cream sandwich on his way out the door and they sit at a table, slurping down the melting treats in silence. When the last sticky remnants are licked from their fingers, Dean turns to her in expectation.
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
“Okay. Who are you? Why did you give me that card? What the hell is up with the unicorn?”
“Those are better questions. My name is Laurel. I gave you that card because you look like you enjoy a good diner. And it’s not the unicorn you should be worried about.”
“You gave me the card because I look like I enjoy a good diner? Come on.”
“Well,” she says with a smile. “It’s one reason. The other is that I needed to talk to you; get a feel for what kind of person you are. You’re linked to the one who saw the unicorn. Many have seen it over the years, but their families would never believe them. I knew from the moment you smiled at me that you would. And I knew that when you did, that you had the capability to do something.”
Dean tenses slightly. “How do you know who I’m linked to? Or what I’d believe? Or what the hell I’d do something about?”
“I watch,” Laurel says. “And I learn. You’d be surprised what a good judge of character I am.”
Dean just shrugs, not satisfied with her answers. “Okay, moving on, then. If I shouldn’t be worried about the unicorn, what should I be worried about?”
“The person who’s using him.” A folder appears in Laurel’s hands. “You were looking in the wrong place at the library this morning. Mythological creatures were a good place to start, but unsolved crimes would have been more useful. Specifically,” she adds, handing Dean the folder, “these unsolved crimes.”
Dean flips open the folder, spreading the contents across the table. He scans newspaper clippings and studies police files. It’s as thorough a researching job as he could have done. “Where did you get all this?” he asks, staring at her suspiciously.
Laurel looks down, demurely batting her lashes at him. “You’re not the only boy who thinks I’m pretty.”
Teens drown during class trip, one story begins. The theme is repeated in half a dozen others spaced over a fifty year span. Not all of them occur during the trip, but if not, the deaths happened shortly after. He studies the police reports thoroughly before looking at her sharply. “They all saw unicorns?”
“According to their classmates. Some of them saw Moonshadow too, but they got lucky. She only needs two.”
“Okay, back up, sweetheart. Who needs two? Two of what? And, seriously. Moonshadow?”
Laurel ignores his last question. “The witch needs two sacrifices. To rejuvenate her powers.”
“And she picks them because they can see a unicorn?” Dean stares at her blankly for a moment. “Oh. Well, if she thinks she’s sacrificing my brother before he’s even had a chance to get laid, she’s got another think coming. And Miriam seems like a sweet girl, so she can’t have her either. When’s this ritual going to happen?”
Laurel stares at him calmly. “Tonight.”
“And you’re just telling me now?” Dean reaches across the table to grip her arm. “Where?”
“Do you promise to kill her?”
“A skanky witch who's going to drown my brother? Yeah, I think wasting her will be at the top of my to do list. Come on.”
Laurel hangs back, dragging Dean to a stop. “I can’t go with you.”
“You’re going to show me where they are.”
“I can’t leave here,” she says quietly. “But they’re at the school. You don’t need me.”
“Oh, no,” Dean growls, pulling on her arm. “You’ve got a lot of questions to answer.”
“I can’t leave him.” Laurel doesn’t budge. “It’s not possible even if I wanted to.”
“Can’t leave who?” Dean stiffens and holds perfectly still as something invisible and stiletto sharp presses against his chest. “Is that...? Okay.” Dean releases Laurel’s arm and retreats a step. “Tell your boyfriend to back off.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly, leaning back against her invisible protector. “The sacrifice won’t be until moonrise, so you’ve got a few hours yet. Use silver. It should do the trick.”
“Thank you,” Dean replied. “And seriously, you’re a virgin?”
“No,” Laurel says with a sad smile. “Not for hundreds of years. But I caught him for her and I’m bound to him. I made sure that if we ever got away no one would ever be able to use me against him again.”
“You’ll get away.” Dean nods solemnly. “I promise. You still didn’t tell me who I’m going after.”
“The science teacher. Mrs. McNally. She chaperones all the trips and we’re magicked right along with her from Busch Gardens to the Washington Monument and beyond. She keeps an eye out for who can see him and then she’s got her victims.”
Dean shakes his head. “Witches. Hey, you know, I could use some backup. I bet tall, white and pointy would be pretty good in a fight. I know you can’t leave him, but you could both come with.”
Miriam closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles. “He’d like that. Come on,” she adds, swinging up to an invisible back and extending her hand. “We’ll give you a ride.”
“Uh, no, thanks.” Dean backs away slowly, but suddenly Laurel’s shooting past and, grabbing his shoulder, she swings him up behind her. Dean grips her waist and hangs on, but the ride is so smooth that he’s in no danger of falling. He sighs as he looks back to see a rainbow trailing behind them. Sam’s never finding out about this.
They land briefly by the Impala so Dean can grab his duffle and stuff it with everything he could possibly need to de-witch his brother, Miriam, Laurel and…the freakin’ unicorn. They take off again and Dean wonders, a little hysterically, if it looks like he’s flying through the air by himself.
“Can people see us?”
“When we’re on him, no. Unless they’re virgins.”
“Awesome.” Dean hopes Sam’s in an inside room with no windows when they arrive or he’ll never hear the end of it.
It’s barely dusk when they get to the school and if Sam’s looking out any of the lit windows, Dean can’t see him. Dean knows where the science lab is. Every school Sam goes to gets a thorough check over once a week to make sure nothing fugly has moved in. Dean’s mouth twists at the thought of the witch. He’s going to have to be extra careful from now on not to miss something so big.
He jimmies the lock on the maintenance door and holds it open for his companions to enter first. They walk the deserted halls, footsteps almost silent on the freshly waxed tiles. They’re just down the corridor from the lab when the door crashes open. Dean pulls Laurel down an adjacent hallway, hoping that Big White will be able to hide himself.
“Come on, you two, step lively now. This experiment isn’t going to set itself up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam and Miriam say in unison and Dean rolls his eyes. A witch tells his brother to jump and it’s ‘yes, ma’am, how high’, but if that order came from Dad, Sam would have told him to set up his own damned experiment.
Dean peeks around the corner in time to see the trio disappearing through a set of double doors that lead to one of the school’s swimming pools. The moon’s not up yet, but he doesn’t trust this skank not to start the festivities early.
“Come on,” he says, shotgun in one hand and pistol in the other. Laurel follows him at a dead run and they pull up outside the doors. Dean snakes his head up to peer through the window and Sam’s right there, staring at the symbols painted across the floor and the candles waiting to be lit.
“Uh, what kind of experiment is this, exactly?” Sam’s voice is clearly audible through the glass panes.
“Oh,” Mrs. McNally smiles brightly. “Transfer of energy.
“What kind of energy?” Miriam asks in a tiny voice.
“Life force,” the older woman replies. She waves her hand and the candles glow with tiny flames. “Specifically, yours.”
“Why to me, of course. How do you think I’ve maintained my girlish good looks for the last four hundred years?”
“You’re not that good looking,” Sam replies and Dean punches the air outside the door.
“That’s my boy,” he whispers to Laurel. “What say we get in there and end this?”
Laurel nods and whispers back. “Sounds good, but we won’t be able to help you while she’s still got power over us. There’s a reason we haven’t taken her out before.”
Dean just stares. “Awesome time to spill this bit of information. How do we get rid of her power over you?”
“Easy peasy. She’s got a necklace made from Moonshadow’s hair that she always wears around her neck. Get it off and burn it and you’ve got an extremely pissed off unicorn and his ex-maiden giving her all that they’ve got.”
“Simple,” Dean mutters. “Or I could just shoot her. Right?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Well, that’s not a yes,” Dean sighs, pushing open the door and walking into the room, gun raised. Laurel, and presumably her unicorn, remains in the hall.
“Dean?” Sam’s surreptitiously scuffing one of the symbols beneath his feet, Miriam tucked behind him.
“In the flesh, Sammy.” Dean keeps his gun leveled at the witch. “Now, we can do things the easy way…actually, no we can only do things the hard way. You’ve been killing kids for generations. Before they’ve had a chance to experience the best thing life’s got to offer, in my opinion. So, I’m going to put you out of our misery.”
Mrs. McNally just laughs. “Oh, you silly boy. Bullets can’t hurt me.” The gun jerks in Dean’s hand as his finger tightens on the trigger and his bullet only grazes her arm. She sways slightly, eyes glazing, but remains on her feet. “Silver,” she hisses. “Good, but not good enough.”
Dean’s next round is consecrated iron, which he’s pretty sure will be good enough, but he’s not going to waste the shot if she’s still got the mojo to send it off aim. When you’ve got any advantage, no matter how small, attack, was one of his father’s first lessons to him, so he tackles the wounded witch before she has a chance to gather herself. She’s stronger than she looks, twisting and kicking in his grasp and moments later Sam throws himself into the fray, followed by Miriam.
“Grab the necklace,” Dean snaps, his own hands too full of pissed off witch to do the job himself. Miriam twists the length of silken hairs in her fist and pulls, but the strands are too strong to break. Sam pulls a knife out of his boot and slices neatly through the necklace. Dean takes a moment to be proud of his little brother for not being too rock headed to carry protection in school, rules be damned. Then, as an invisible force begins to tighten around his neck, he gasps, “Burn it!”
Miriam pushes herself free from the tangle of bodies and grabs the nearest candle, igniting the braided hair with its flame. The witch screams in rage and Sam and Miriam fly through the air, landing with twin splashes in the middle of the pool, but the hair is already burning with the scent of freshly mown grass. Dean loses his grip on her arms as he struggles for air and she shoves him aside as she struggles to her feet.
“Well, that was pointless,” she snarls, the hand clamped over the steaming wound on her arm a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood. “And painful. I was going to kill you quickly, but now I think I’ll save you for my after dinner treat.”
Dean’s response dies in his constricted throat and from behind him he can hear Sam and Miriam gasping for air as they struggle to stay above water. He keeps the necklace in his peripheral vision; watches as it smolders into ash.
A smug smile twists Mrs. McNally’s lips as she raises her arms, but before she can utter the first words of the spell, the doors fly open and Laurel darts through them. She reaches the remnants of the necklace before anyone can react, scattering the ashes across the floor. A split second later, crimson blossoms across the witch’s chest and she shudders as her body seems to levitate.
Dean sucks air into his oxygen starved lungs as Laurel pulls Sam and Miriam from the pool. Dean’s never been so happy to hear his brother retch in his life. The form hanging limply in mid-air seems to be lifeless, but Dean puts a consecrated iron round through its head just to be sure. The bullet seems to finish the job the skewering started. Within seconds Mrs. McNally has withered into a pile of dust on the soot covered tiles. Dean rolls over slowly and pushes himself to his feet, staggering over to collapse beside his brother.
“You okay, Sammy?”
Sam nods, still hacking water from his lungs. Miriam’s breathing more easily, but she’s pale and slightly shell shocked. It’s a normal civilian reaction to having a witch try to steal your life energy before being impaled by a unicorn and dissolving into nothingness, so Dean can’t really blame her. He hides a grin at how quickly the shock is wearing off, though. Miriam’s eyes are beginning to return to their normal condition: full of the zeal of an honest to goodness science nerd. She pounds Sam on the back before helping him to his feet and they slowly make their way across the floor to where Moonshadow presumably awaits.
Miriam runs her hand down what Dean can only assume is the creature’s nose while Sam pats it on what could possibly be its neck. Dean decides that all the really great sex he’s had over the years is worth not being able to see the thing in the flesh and sternly tells himself that he’s not jealous.
He turns to Laurel; something ethereally gorgeous that he can see and hopefully, put his hands on. She’s there, behind Sam and Miriam, but she’s misty, blurred around the edges. Apparently the same thing is happening to the unicorn, because Sam and Miriam step back, looking alarmed.
“What’s happening to you?” Miriam whispers.
“We’re going home,” Laurel says with a smile that’s only a little sad. “She’s kept us captive for centuries and Moonshadow at least has a lot of catching up to do. We’re going to find him a nice mare to have beautiful foals with and settle down for a while.”
“We won’t forget you,” Sam says and Laurel’s smile dims.
“Yes, you will,” she replies. “Eventually we’ll fade from your memory like we’re fading from your sight. We're only a myth, you know.”
Dean puts a hand on her face, brushes the damp traces of tears from her cheeks. “I’d hoped to get to know you a little better,” he says with a sad smile of his own. “But death by unicorn seems like a sucky way to go. Do you think if I kissed you, just this once, your boyfriend could give me a pass on the whole impaled on his horn thing?”
“I think you’re safe,” she replies in her sex on legs voice and Dean would gladly spend forever with her just to have that whispering in his ear every day.
“Good…” It’s the last sound he makes before she latches onto his mouth. He’s never been so close to having his tongue swallowed and his tonsils sucked out by another person so he ignores Miriam’s fascinated stare and Sam’s appalled one while the kiss goes on and on. He closes his eyes as Laurel's touch become more and more ephemeral until it fades away entirely. Sam sighs and Miriam chokes out a sob, but Dean just stands with his eyes closed for a few moments more, trying to burn Laurel’s image onto the backs of his eyelids. It’s one he wants to hold onto for as long as he can.
When he opens his eyes the three of them are alone in the room. Also gone are the ashes and dust, candles and symbols. Moonshadow and Laurel took care of everything for them on their way to…someplace good filled with hot female unicorns and enough humans to keep Laurel company in any way she might want. At least Dean hopes like hell that’s where they ended up.
Sam takes Miriam’s hand and exchanges glances with his brother. “Can we get out of here, now?”
“Works for me, Sammy.”
Sam wraps his arm around Miriam’s shoulder and she snakes hers around his waist. They walk out the door tightly pressed together and Dean grins as he follows them to the parking lot. His suggestion that maybe they do their next science project on the mating habits of the common science geek is icily ignored and he thinks he’ll be thanking Laurel and Moonshadow for the rest of his days for the simple fact that he still has Sammy’s epic bitchface to make fun of.