Vampires in Brooklyn - Supernatural fanfiction No.1

Chapter Two

The blue eyed Hunter snorted, a blade in her hand and a smile on her face.
"Don't even think about entering there, you ridiculous fool."
His breathing shallow, Dean slowly turned his head, trying somewhat successfully to not slit his throat on the knife fixed to his Adam's apple.
"What? Opal?"
She laughed. "Get away from the door and behind that bush, you idjit."
She led them to a skeletal tree and scaled it, waiting for them on the highest branch. As they climbed, she waited, crouched like a panther ready to pounce.
"Why are you here?"
Opal looked down with a sad smile.
"A long time ago, people called me a Winchester. Winchester means family, and family means no-one gets left behind." She breathed a laugh. "Even if they want to be."
Sam eyed her affectionately.
"Where's your hair?"
She giggled.
"Your bathroom floor."
While listening to her smooth voice form words, Castiel was stuck by a sudden realization.
"I know what you are," he whispered.
Opal raised her eyebrows.
"I haven't a clue what you mean."
"You-you're the Sataphim."
Sam nearly fell out of the tree.
Confused, Dean used his emerald eyes to question Cas's meaning, but for once, the trenchcoated angel wasn't looking at him. His gaze was fixed on Opal.
"I knew from the moment you kicked down that door that you weren't human, but I never imagined that you were the prophesized demon."
Dean looked around ignorantly. "Care telling me what the fuck's going on?"
Opal was giggling silently. "'Prophesized demon? '  And I would've gotten away with it too, if not for you meddling kids!"
Sam's scared voice wavered from behind his brother. "Not a joke, Opal." He went full nerd mode. "The Sataphim, or Daemaphim, was a prophesized monster. It was supposed to be a hideous creature, half demon and half angel, that brought the apocalypse. And, even worse...
it was supposed to be the son of Satan."
Dean raised his eyebrows.
"I read it in a book," Sam shrugged.
Opal blanched.
"I-I'm not the son of Satan," she hurried. "I can't be. I'm not a man."
"It was never mentioned that the Sataphim would be a man; it was just called 'the son' out of hope."
Opal's breathing sped up as she worried about her parentage.
"M-my parents... they were human!"
"You never did look anything like them..."
She was setting Dean on fire in her mind.
"Do you ever have times when you wake up in the middle of nowhere with no idea where you are, no idea how you got there, chunks of your memory missing and a random stranger having to tell you that something awful happened and you caused it?"
"Yeah, all the time. Called Blackout Saturdays and Hangover Sundays. That's all it ever is. R-right?"
"No, I'm sorry, but that's called murder and theft. You've set fire to countless villages."
Dean nodded reluctantly.
"Great. We have the antichrist on our side."
"Dean!" she cried, choking on tears. "You don't really believe this, do you? I'm not Lucifer's kid! I would never have done anything to hurt you! I was a sister to you and Sam!"
He looked away from the screaming mess.
"So was Maya."
Opal stared at the ground, tears streaming endlessly down her cheeks, no more threads to grasp at.
More to herself than the rest of them, she mumbled, "I'm not a demon."

***

Opal sat on Dean's bed, crying into his pillow. She hadn't stopped since she was first told of her true parentage; the news was too great a burden to take with a smile.
Sam's arm reached 'round her shoulders, his calm voice whispering soothing words into her ear. Dean repetitively offered her bottles of beer, but for the first time in his life, she refused them.
"Goddammit Cas," he growled. He'd never seen Opal cry, and now his angel had gone and forced her into tears.
She screamed into Dean's bed. Sam kept telling her that it was okay, that she needn't cry, because it didn't matter so long as her heart was in the right place. But what if it wasn't...?
Yawning, Dean staggered into Cas, proclaiming that, "It's four in the morning, Cas! Is she never gonna stop crying? I need to sleep!"
Cas looked exasperated.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'd like to help but my..." He mimed inverted commas with his fingers. "'People Skills' are [inverted commas] 'rusty'."
Dean nodded. "I know, Cas. I know."
Opal sobbed over Sam's shoulder, soaking his plaid shirt.
"I-I'm the son of Satan."
Sam sighed and nodded, hating to be the bearer of bad news.
She hiccupped.
"I know what to do."
Cas tilted his head and stared at her.
"I-I'm the antichrist, right? So therefore the vamps won't recognise my scent."
Sam nodded again in agreement. "Hypothetically."
Opal wiped her face, drying her cheeks and in turn dampening her sleeve.
"I'll go into the nest. Pretend I'm a bloodsucker. I'm a good actor, I can do it. Then, once I've gained their trust..." She smiled evilly. "I'll teach them a thing or two about blood."
Dean smiled.
"That's the Opal I know! What's the signal for our attack?"
The Sataphim raised a smoke bomb.
"I missed backstabbing monsters."
"You do remember how to kill a vampire, right? Stakes and crosses don't work?"
She nodded, her determined face set and mouth sporting a cruel smirk.
"I know, Dean. These aren't the vampires of fairy tales. Sun only burns them, and the only way to kill the damned bitch is to cut their fanged heads off."
Dean laughed fondly. "Once a hunter, always a hunter."

***

Bed-headed and tired, Dean threw a pillow across the room and wiped the sleep out his eyes with a calloused finger. The soft material of the pillow case fell off the pillow and flew into Opal's face, halting her progress across the room.
"What are you doing?" Dean's tired voice was even deeper in the morning.
Opal, in reply, simply gestured to the corner of the room, where at least fourteen empty bottles resided.
"I'm gonna buy some more, I swear."
Dean sighed and trudged out of bed, looking for his guardian angel.
Opal flung the fridge open - and for the second time in the last two minutes, her pursuit of beer was interrupted.
A flutter of black feathers and there stood the angel, complete with dark blue dress suit and tan overcoat, in his hand a blown up, metallic red balloon. He put the balloon to his lips and breathed in, tasting helium.
"Hello Dean."
Opal and Dean sniggered. The contrast between Castiel's normal, bass voice and the chipmunk squeal was hysterical - tears of laughter oozed out of Sam's eyes and Dean and Opal's bellowing would have woken up everyone in the motel (had it not been midday and everyone was already awake anyway). Sam wiped his eyes and grabbed his duffel.
"Come on," he sighed, "we've got work to do."