Chapter Text
The two stepped off the bus and Max said, “We’ve got another six blocks for the cross-town bus.” Her voice sounded weaker, wearier. “I’m not walking all the way home. And I’m assuming you didn’t drive here.”
“No,” Dean admitted. As they walked, he noticed Max rubbing at her head, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Max grimaced. “Monica’s punishing the Thrall for their failure…I’ve just got a headache.”
As pale and exhausted as she looked, Max seemed far away from fine, but Dean didn’t say a word. Max could take care of herself, that much was certain, but he hadn’t even seen the vampire hurt her; it looked like she’d taken it out way before it had done anything, and yet her back looked like something with claws had slashed it open.
They reached the apartment without incident, and Max had stopped rubbing at her head, although she did spend the rest of the trip up the stairs griping about the situation at hand.
“This is getting ridiculous,” She said, as she let herself and Dean into the apartment. “Can’t even walk down the street…four…four!”
“She knows you’re not goin’ down easily,” Dean pointed out, leaning against the bar.
“Monica’s furious…and you know who’s gonna get the full blast of it,” Max sighed. She draped Dean’s jacket over a barstool, then yanked hers off as well. She held it up, and Dean smirked at her through the gaps in the material. She sighed, then tossed it in the trash bin, hissing in pain from the scratches.
“Yeah…uh…” Dean stood up, eyes following a path on the floor, “We may wanna get those bandaged up…”
Max followed his gaze and saw she had been dripping blood all the way home, which seemed to get worse the farther the trail led. “Lovely,” she sighed. “Well…first thing’s first,” she frowned, “Where the hell did, I put that neck guard?” she ran up the stairs, and started opening drawers, yanking objects out, then moving to the next one.
Dean frowned as he followed her upstairs. He had reached her bedroom area just as Max started tearing through her underwear drawer, and a flying bra hit him square in the face. He pulled it off and examined it, and with a smirk stated, “Thirty-two B…nice size.”
Max finally stopped, and turned to him, “You’re not helping!” She yanked her bra from his hand and opened the chest at the foot of her bed. She pulled out a few odds and ends, finally grabbing her precious neck guard.
It was shaped like a torso and made of rock-hard fiberglass. Two separate pieces of the material had been joined on one side with a hinge, on the other side were two pieces that could clasp the item connected.
“Basically, it’s a fiberglass Kevlar vest?” Dean asked.
“Pretty much,” Max shrugged. “Knives can’t sink in, Thrall cronies can’t bite through it, it’s a beautiful thing.” She started pulling off her shirt, “Help me put it on…” She ended with a hiss because of the scratches.
“You want help with those first?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, probably should…nothing’s worse than fingernail scratches you can’t reach,” Max sighed, belly flopping onto her bed.
“Try getting blasted with rock salt,” Dean said, heading for her medicine cabinet.
“I have been,” Max admitted. “Not a fun experience…” She cried out in pain when he poured the peroxide on her back, “Dammit, what was that for?”
“I have to clean the scratches,” Dean snapped. “You’re lucky I don’t have to pour holy water on them.”
“If you did, I would seriously kick your ass,” Max grimaced, gripping the blanket tightly.
A few moments of silence passed, as the cuts were cleaned.
Dean grimaced, “What did that vamp do to you?”
“I don’t know,” Max grimaced, burying her face in her blanket. “I really don’t know.”
“How can you not know?” Dean asked, confused.
Max just shrugged her shoulders and held still while Dean finished up. He sat up, and asked, “Did I hit a nerve or something?”
Max sighed, and got up, testing her mobility. “No…you didn’t.”
“Then why the sudden change here?”
She didn’t answer as she pulled a tank top out of the pile on the floor. She pulled it over her head before picking up the neck guard. “Why do I even bother with this?” She asked, tossing the thing aside, which landed with a hollow clunk.
“Max?” Dean asked.
“You know, this is all Dylan’s fault, when you get right down to it,” Max said, sitting back down on the bed.
Dean sat beside her, “Um, I don’t know the story, so if you could fill me in—”
“He was my fiancé,” Max explained. “Cheated on me with Clarissa.”
Dean frowned as he pictured the woman, “The tiny little bitch that tried to strangle you?”
“Yep, that was her.”
“Didn’t think Dylan was that great of a catch that he was worth killing over.”
“Despite the bravado I think that since she stole Dylan originally it might not be that far of a stretch in her paranoid brain for me to try and steal him back,” Max admitted. “Though after someone could go behind my back and sleep with my best friend, seems pretty dumb on her part to assume I’d even want him back, considering it’s been four years since it happened.”
“Monica attacked four years ago,” Dean’s frown deepened. “He set you up?”
“He was lured with sex,” Max shook her head. “Or possibly money. I was never quite sure, but Clarissa told me he was getting a lot of money…anyway, that was when I went after the queen, who was the dude, and killed him. I was designated Not Prey after that.”
“So why is Monica going after you?”
“The other queens told me they lost control over her,” Max scowled. “I never trusted them anyway. Monica’s predecessor wanted me to be a queen, kind of like a battle to the death scenario.”
Dean noticed Max shudder at the memories but didn’t call her out on it.
“Ever since that day…she’s kinda been in the back of my mind, quite literally, ever since.” Her scowl turned into a full grimace, and she kneaded her head with her knuckles.
“She can hurt you psychically?” Dean asked.
“It’s not her this time,” Max shook her head. “It’s the Thrall. That buzzing…it’s like pressure building in my skull…and nothing can get rid of it.” She looked at Dean, “She chomped down on my leg when I went after her…marked me. But because I killed the queen, I was designated Not Prey, however, since they’re all psychically linked, I can hear them all buzzing around if I can’t put up my mental shields.” She wiped at her eyes, “Hey…does Sam still hear the buzzing?”
“Not sure,” Dean said. “If he does, he hasn’t mentioned it.”
Max got to her feet and grabbed a blue button-down shirt off the floor. She shoved her arms into it with a grimace as she felt the bandages pull. “She’ll be dead in a few days. Then this’ll be over.”
“If we all live through it,” Dean said.
“Ah, you will,” Max assured him.
“And you?”
“That’s up to the big man upstairs,” Max said. “I’d like to believe I’ll live through it, but who knows?”
“You’re not gonna start preachin’ the Bible or somethin’ are you?” Dean grimaced.
“Relax heathen,” Max smirked, “My parents were Christians. But I’m not caught up on the Bible…that’s why I drag my brothers to Johnny’s church occasionally. We get enough of it from him.”
“Max,” Luke called out, coming into the apartment. “Max? You home?”
“Yeah?” Max asked, buttoning her shirt. She and Dean headed down the stairs, and the hunter headed for the door.
“I’m gonna go find Sam,” He said. “Maybe ask around about Dusty.”
“I doubt you’ll find anything,” Max told him, heading for the sink. “Jake wouldn’t tell me anything. He’d probably clock you in the face if you tried.”
“So, I’ll come back with a few bruises,” Dean shrugged, closing the door behind him.
“So, what’s up?” Max asked, turning to face Luke, who had taken a seat at the counter.
“Why was he in your bedroom?” Luke asked.
Max raised her shirt, showing him the bandages on her back, “The Thrall doesn’t like to play fair. Dean helped me.”
Luke looked skeptical but knew his sister didn’t do anything else. “You like him,” He then realized. “Don’t you?”
Max turned on the water in the sink, turning the valve to the side so the water would get hot. “What makes you say that?”
“I dunno,” Luke shrugged. “It’s just a feeling.”
Max thought about it for a minute, “Maybe I do.”
“Then why don’t you tell him?”
“NO!” Max said quickly. Her face turned red from embarrassment, like she was twelve and her friends were teasing her about a recent crush. She took a breath and shook her head, as she went back to her dishes, “Look, it’s nothing…he’s cute, but that’s about it. Besides…he doesn’t see me that way, and you know, he’s leaving once this is over, so it wouldn’t work anyway.”
“You really like him,” Luke smiled.
Max rolled her eyes as she put dish soap in the sink and filled it up. “What difference does that make?”
“Maybe he really likes you too,” Luke pointed out.
“Yeah, me and half a million other girls across the continent,” Max smirked. “What would make me so different?”
Luke opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown. “Um…” he thought for a minute, “You can both hunt ghosts.”
“Nice try,” Max shook her head. “But that’s not enough.”
“So, what did you get on our resident werewolf?” Dean asked.
He’d met Sam on the landing outside of Justin’s apartment, and Sam was giving Dean the run-down of what he’d learned.
“Term is Lycanthrope,” the younger Winchester explained, “At least, that’s what they are. He wasn’t sure about how alcohol would kill the eggs, but he said he’d ask around.” He shook his head, “And he gave me a message for you.”
“What?” Dean smirked, “Don’t kill ‘im? Don’t call him Wolf Man?”
“No,” Sam shook his head, “Stay away from Max.”
“Wha?” Dean asked, confused.
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Don’t go after Max.”
“What the heck did you say to him?” Dean asked defensively.
“Nothin’,” Sam held his arms up in defense. “That was like a last-minute thing, as I was leaving, he said to tell you to stay away from her.”
“Well, I’d like a talk with this guy myself,” Dean said. “The werewolves are hiding Dusty. I want to know more about this.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “He’ll probably say he can’t explain it.”
“Hey, Hardy boys,” Max called out, coming down the stairs with Luke in tow. “I got a call to run an errand. Either of you wanna play bodyguard?”
“You’re asking—”
“Quiet Luke,” Max cut him off.
“I’ll go this time,” Sam offered.
Max nodded, “Fine.” She headed down the stairs toward the parking garage.
“You talk to Justin, I’ll keep an eye on Max,” Sam said to Dean.
“You watch your back,” Dean said.
“I always do,” Sam nodded.
“No, I mean more than usual,” Dean frowned. “Guys can use mind-control.”
“Really?” Luke asked, “That must be how Max got those scratches on her back.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who said, “That’s the general theory.”
“I better get goin’,” Sam said, heading down the stairs.
Max stood against her truck, now wearing a long, black, leather duster.
“What’s with the leather?” Sam asked, getting into the passenger side.
Max climbed into the driver’s seat, shrugging as she hit the ignition. “It’s better than nothin’…I have this neck guard thing, but I decided not to bother with it.”
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Dunno,” Max shook her head. She pulled out of the garage, and headed down the road, “I made it through today without getting bitten…took out a Thrall member, though not before he got the jump on me.”
“Dean kind of explained that.”
“Yeah,” Max muttered. “Well, it’s not happening again.”
Ten minutes later, they stopped in front of a store called Tres Chic, and Max got out, asking Sam to guard the car.
“Do you want me to bark at passersby too?” Sam asked with a roll of his eyes.
“Go right ahead, Cujo,” Max said with a lopsided grin, then headed inside. Less than a minute later, she returned with an envelope, rolling her eyes. “I really don’t want to do this. I normally don’t do this…” She grumbled, getting back into the truck.
She tossed the envelope onto the dashboard, and started the engine, pulling away from the curb.
When his curiosity got the better of him, Sam grabbed the envelope and looked through it. “Eviction orders?”
“Yeah,” Max nodded. “One of the owners, Ramon, divorced his wife, after she cheated on him with their new prodigy. After he was awarded the house, Celeste went back and changed all the locks, and won’t let anyone get near enough to boot her out the front door.”
“So, he called you?”
“I’m a bonded courier,” Max shook her head. She grimaced as she added, “Plus…they’ve been my clients for a while, and they provide me a lot of business. Usually I do not do this kind of delivery, but he said he’d pay anything.”
“Ten thousand dollars?” Sam asked suddenly as he found the check.
“Yeah…it was the first number that came to mind,” Max admitted with a blush on her cheeks, “I thought it was high enough to where he’d change his mind. He agreed, and now I’m stuck in the middle, delivering the eviction notice.”
“Damn…”
“Bright side, bills can be paid, and Charlie doesn’t need as many scholarships,” Max sighed, “I’m not proud of it…but I’m a woman of my word.” She pulled the truck to a stop across the street from their destination. “Celeste may like me, but if she dents the Falcon, she’s getting one hell of a bill.”
“The Falcon?” Sam chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “As in, the Millennium Falcon?”
“Stupid, I know,” Max smiled along with him, and shook her head again. “But Luke called it that. I’ve had this thing since I was sixteen, and Luke would watch Star Wars with me. He’s been calling it our Millennium Falcon since he could talk…it kinda stuck.”
“And the name ‘Luke’…?”
“Technically his name is Lucas,” Max admitted, “But yeah, it’s why we begged our parents to name him Luke.”
Sam followed Max to the neighbor’s yard, and stood behind her as she called out, “Hi Celeste!”
The woman in the yard reached behind the hedge she had been trimming, and pulled out a heavy, lead crystal elephant.
Both took a step back, “I never did mention she’s taken to chucking fake elephants at people, did I?”
“No, you neglected that little detail,” Sam frowned.
“Oh! Maxine, how wonderful to see you darling!” Celeste said, dropping the elephant to the ground. It hit the grass with a soft thud. She looked at Sam, “And who is your friend?”
“His name is Sam,” Max said, taking a step forward.
Celeste’s face changed, and she frowned. She cast a panicked glance at the house, and apparently decided she’d never make it.
“You know why we’re here?” Max asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.
“Max, please understand,” Celeste began. “I found this house…I love it. I suffered a moment of weakness—”
“Celeste,” Max sighed, hearing Sam hiss then shift on his feet. Weird…“You’re talking to the wrong person. That’s why Dylan and I did not work out, he decided sleeping with my best friend would be better.”
“Um…Max…”
“Please, Max,” Celeste began again. “It’s not fair, he’s punishing me forever for one moment of weakness.”
“Was it worth it?” Max asked as she felt Sam jab her in the shoulder. She waved him off, still focused on Celeste. She put the papers on the hedge, “Was it worth driving away—”
“Is your friend all right?” Celeste asked suddenly worried.
Max whirled around to find Sam clutching at his head, breathing heavily. “Sam, what is it?”
Sam grimaced, and raised a trembling hand to point at the balcony window, “Thrall…” He muttered.
That was when Max felt it, a surge of power from the Hive. She watched as Celeste’s knees buckled, and the woman fell to the ground with glazed-over eyes.
“Thrall!” Sam said, louder this time.
Max looked to the second-floor balcony. A young man stood there, and opened his mouth in a hiss, revealing fangs. “Sam…listen carefully. Imagine a shield. Once you have that, focus on blocking them out. Like slamming down that shield.” All the while she had a hold on his arm, helping him back away to the truck. There was a knife in her hand, she had strapped sheaths to her wrists, hidden under her sleeves. She picked up the pace when the vampire leapt from the balcony, picked up Celeste, and hissed at them again.
Max shoved Sam into the passenger seat, then ran around the truck and climbed in herself. She started the engine, and glanced at Sam, “Any better?”
“Kinda,” Sam grimaced.
“Just try and close the mental shields,” Max said, starting back for the apartment. “It’s kinda hard at first, but it keeps them at bay.”
The closer they got to the apartment building, the Thrall’s effect on Sam seemed to get weaker, and he seemed to recover a little bit, although he was still cringing as he rubbed at his eyes, and in a quiet voice said, “I shouldn’t have volunteered.”
“You didn’t know,” Max said, pulling into the parking garage. She handed him a knife before killing the engine. “I didn’t even know.”
“How do you deal with the buzzing all the time?” Sam asked.
Guess that answers that earlier question, Max frowned. “Like I said, the shields block them out. It takes practice I guess.” She looked at him, “You haven’t really mastered your abilities yet, have you?”
“I don’t really know what my abilities are,” Sam admitted. “I mean, I know I get visions. And apparently can hear the Thrall…once I moved an entire bookshelf with my mind, but I don’t know if that was a onetime thing, or it’s something that will improve later.”
“The only thing I can tell you is practice with the mental shields,” Max shrugged. “I know it sounds repetitive, but that’s all I can offer at this hour.”
Sam nodded, and got out of the truck. There weren’t any vampires that they could see, and they walked up the stairs towards Max’s apartment. It was uneventful, unless one counted Max spinning around at random intervals to make sure they weren’t being followed.
Dean and Luke were waiting in the apartment, Luke at the laptop, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Wow…you guys know everything about this stuff,” He said in awe.
“Not everything,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder, “But a lot.” He looked over at Sam, and straightened, “What the heck happened to you?”
“Nothing,” Sam said, shaking his head.
Max frowned, she could see Sam’s eyes were bloodshot, and he was very pale. “He’s never felt a power surge from the Thrall before.” She explained, “Anyone got a specific preference for music?”
“What’s the choices?” Dean asked.
“Anything that when cranked up will be very, very, loud,” Max said. She caught her reflection in the glass doors in front of her stereo and saw she too looked pale and bloodshot.
“Foreigner!” Luke called out, eyes never leaving the computer screen.
“What a surprise there,” Max rolled her eyes, and slid in the CD, cranking the volume up. The song Hot Blooded filled the air, and Luke bobbed his head to the song. “Focus on the song, it’ll block out the Thrall.”
“That’s why the buzzing went away the first time,” Sam realized. “Dean started playing Metallica.”
“Luke answered with Foreigner…but Metallica does work,” Max nodded. “AC/DC, Green Day…anything that can be pumped up really loudly…” She rubbed her temples, “It blocks them out…I don’t want them to know what I think I know…”
“What you think you know?” Dean asked.
“Or what I’m planning,” Max said, “I just don’t know what I’m planning yet…”
“Well, what do you know?” Sam asked, “How ‘bout we start there?”
“Clarissa, Matt Quinn, who is Dusty’s stepfather, this nurse at the hospital, and a guy in a pick-up at the airport—”
“You really are the popular one, aren’t you?” Dean asked.
“They’re all working for Monica,” Max said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Dylan is fighting them, and I’m not sure about the Thrall cronies at the mall. I’m not sure whom Morris is working for, nor do I know about Celeste…” She rubbed her temples once more, “I’ve gotta go out…this time alone.”
“Works so well every other time,” Sam commented.
“That reminds me,” Max held out her hand, “Gimme my knife.”
Sam grabbed the hilt and said, “No.”
“Please gimme my knife?” Max asked in a strained voice. She made a grab for it, but Sam held it above his head.
“No, you shouldn’t go out alone,” he said.
“I tried to be nice,” Max shrugged. She tackled him to the ground and yanked the knife out of his hand. Getting to her feet, she put the knife back in its sheath, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Sam scowled at her; despite the fact he was gasping for air. She’d knocked the wind out of him when she’d hit him, throwing her shoulder into it. Dean was gripping the bar to keep from falling off his stool, he was laughing so hard at the display. Luke applauded his sister as she left, and shook his head, “Yeah…she doesn’t like it when people do that.”
“Thanks…for the…warning,” Sam coughed, sitting up.