Mercy

Chapter VIII

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"And I don't know where to look

My words just break and melt"

- Make This Go On Forever, Snow Patrol

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"Who the fuck are you?" Meg screamed from beside me as she glared at Dean. She was still trying to pull down the hem of her black dress which had ridden up her legs when Dean had shoved her into the back seat of the cab.

He smiled at her, though it was obviously fuelled my derision. "A friend of Sam's," was all he said.

"Pull this cab over right now!" she yelled at the cab driver. The middle aged man glanced nervously at her in the rear view mirror.

"Don't mind her," Dean exclaimed. "My girlfriend and I just had a bit of an argument and she's overreacting."

"T'hell I am!" she screamed as she clawed at Dean's face. He caught her wrists and held them with one hand as she tried to struggle free, practically head butting me in the face as she squirmed around.

"Now, now, honey," Dean grunted as she kicked him in the shin with her high heel. "I'm sorry I was looking at the waitress' butt. How many times-" He reached around him and drew something from behind his back. "-do I have to apologize?"

Meg went still as the taxi paused at a red light and I wondered why she was suddenly docile. I looked around her to see what Dean held, and when I saw the gun in his hand, pointed at her stomach, I felt my blood run cold. I swear it looked just like the ones Leo and Vince owned.

"Do you forgive me, baby?" Dean asked, leaning into Meg's face, his voice soft and gentle even though his eyes were radiating the complete opposite.

"Yes, honey," she said through clenched teeth. Then she sat back in the seat and stared straight ahead, her face a stone mask even though I could tell she was clearly pissed.

"Sorry for the drama," Dean apologized to the driver, his body relaxing but his hand still holding the gun to Meg's gut. I saw her eyes flicker down for a moment, watching it.

"No problem," the man chuckled as the light turned green and he stepped on the gas again. "I have a missus myself at home. Always causing me trouble."

"Women, huh?" Dean joked, and the cab driver hooted again, turning a corner like a madman. Meg flinched as Dean jabbed the gun into her side and then she was laughing nervously herself.

The rest of the ride was endured in tense silence. I wanted to know where Dean had gotten the gun, why he was even here, but I couldn't speak a word while the cab driver was listening. Thankfully, the the older man didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss. Or maybe he just didn't want to get involved. Either way, he simply whistled along with the radio and when we reached our stop I paid him double the fare, as promised. Dean kept the gun hidden under his coat as we exited the car, though he made sure to keep it pointed in Meg's direction the entire time.

As the taxi pulled away I turned to Dean and spoke to him for the first time in days. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled, not caring that the three of us were standing in the middle of a sidewalk in what appeared to be an industrial area. "Are you fucking insane?"

He looked at me like I was the crazy one. "What, you were planning on letting her go after she saw your face? Or maybe you were just gonna let her drag you back to your stepfather," he sneered.

I glowered at him, about to retort, but then I realized something strange. "How do you even know who she is?"

For a moment he looked taken aback, but then he cleared his throat and said, "Vince mentioned her."

I tried to not show the shock on my face, or the emotions that unwelcomingly rose within me at the mention of Vince's name. "How does he know her?"

"You know, I'm right here," Meg's voice suddenly interrupted. She was balancing on her stilettos, one hip jutted out and her arms crossed over her chest as she gave us an annoyed look. "You can just ask me."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean growled, and I was surprised at the amount of loathing in his voice. He turned his attention back to me. "She's the one who oversaw Vince's little drug business. Supplied him with his product," he explained. "Which I'm guessing came from your stepfather since little miss sunshine here works for him."

My jaw was probably skimming the pavement at the moment, but I didn't care. I was trying to wrap my head around what Dean was saying, and also wondering how he seemed to know so much. "John's in the drug business?" was all I could say.

Meg cackled. "Are you saying you didn't know?" she asked me, clearly surprised. "You must be stupider than I thought."

I shot her a glare. "I knew his money wasn't exactly clean," I defended myself. "I just didn't know how it was getting dirty, all right?"

"It doesn't matter," Dean said as he grabbed Meg by the arm and began to drag her roughly up the steps of the building we were standing in front of. "We've got to decide what to do with her now."

"What do you mean?" I inquired as I followed him up the stairs, realizing that this wasn't an industrial area after all. It had certainly been one in the past, but I saw now that the block had been newly transformed into a residential zone. A sign was posted on the door of the building we entered, advertising loft apartments for "low, low prices". The place seemed empty of residents, however, and I saw that parts of the building were still in the construction stage.

Dean didn't answer my question as we waited for the elevator. He shoved Meg in first and I followed him inside the tiny space as he pressed the button that would raise us to the eighth floor. "Why were you at Midnight?" I suddenly asked, because the question had been weighing heavily on me for the past few minutes.

"I wanted to speak with Meg. Didn't know you'd be working there," he quickly replied as the elevator doors shut.

"I'm a popular girl," Meg crooned, but was immediately silenced by a look from Dean.

The elevator began to rise. "How'd you know John was my stepfather?" Suddenly I had a whole torrent of questions to ask him; things that didn't make sense and didn't seem to quite add up.

Dean kept his eyes on the numbers above the elevator door, watching as the 2 lit up followed by the 3 and the 4. Then he answered, "I did some digging on John when I found out Meg was working for him. Saw you two were connected."

I didn't really know how to feel about that. "Did..." I hesitated before asking the next question. "Did Vince know who I was? I mean... before you talked to him?" I still didn't understand why Vince and his pal had been so interested in me. Why they had hurt me like they had. The only explanation I could think of was that Dean had mentioned me and Vince had come up with the idea that hurting me would be like getting revenge on him. At first I couldn't think of a reason why my name would have come up, but now that I knew Vince was connected to my stepfather in some way, it seemed more comprehensible.

Dean cast me a momentary look. "He never mentioned you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Did you mention me?"

The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open but Dean made no move to exit it. "No," he said after a pause, and then he was dragging Meg out and down the dimly lit hall and I had no choice but to follow.

We came to a stop in front of a door with the number 9 on it and Dean reached one hand into his pocket to retrieve a key. "When the hell did you get an apartment?" I asked as he inserted the silver key and opened the door, keeping the gun trained on Meg even as he manoeuvred the lock.

He faced me and shrugged. "Few days ago."

I let out a noise in disbelief. "And where exactly did you find the money to pay for it?"

"Turns out I'm good at hustling."

I cocked my head to the side, not understanding the word. "Hustling?"

"You know, poker and pool and stuff." He looked at me in amusement. "You can make a lot of money in a surprisingly short amount of time in a poker game."

I gaped at him openly. Who was this man standing in front of me?

"You boys gonna invite me in?" Meg asked, and I realized that for a moment I had forgotten she was there.

"Not really," Dean rumbled as he pushed her through the doorway with a quick shove. She stumbled into the open space, almost tripping on her stilettos but catching herself on a beam that stood in the middle of the entranceway. As I entered the apartment myself and the lights flicked on I saw that we were in a decently spacious loft. Large paned windows lined the furthest wall but they were dirty with black soot so it was impossible to see out of them. Instead I saw an image of us three reflected back at me. To my left there were two closed doors and to my right a large kitchen. There was no furniture in the room except for an old-fashioned red couch sitting in the main room. The place looked like it had just been completed, sawdust and bits of plastic and pink insulation still lying about the concrete floor.

"Over there," Dean said as he wagged the gun in the direction of the furthest door. Meg gave him a dirty look but did as he commanded, opening it when he told her to do so. The three of us walked into a smaller room with no windows. I supposed it was to be used as a storage room. "Sit," Dean demanded, and Meg seated herself on a wooden chair which stood in the corner. She crossed her legs as she looked up at us expectantly.

"Sam, hold this." Suddenly the gun was being shoved in my hand and my eyes widened as I tried not to drop it. Then I was fighting the urge to throw it away. It was heavier than I had expected it to be but I managed to hold it properly. I found I couldn't point it directly at Meg, though, so I let the barrel face a point on the ground a few feet in front of her. Then I watched as Dean picked up a coil of rope and began to tie Meg to the chair. It was like he had planned this all.

When Dean finished he stepped back and held out his hand for the gun. However, I couldn't move my arms. It was like they had suddenly turned to stone. He didn't say anything as he reached over and gently pried it from my fingers, slipping it back into the space by the small of his back.

Meg looked from me to Dean and then back again. "Oh goody," she purred. "I'm with two good-looking men and I'm all tied up." She shifted in the chair, leaning forward so her neckline scooped downward.

"You can't seduce your way out of this, Meg," I spat, regaining my composure now that I wasn't holding a gun any longer. "I'm not John."

She didn't seem deterred by my words as she shifted her sight to Dean. "You may not be, Sam." She batted her eyelids. "But he might be."

I looked over at Dean but his face showed no signs of lust as he stared at her. In fact, I'd never seen his eyes so cold. "You're not as hot as you think you are, Meg," I said as I returned my attention to the blonde. That seemed to wipe the smile from her lips. She scoffed as she sat back again, slouching in the chair.

"You know, these ropes are very unnecessary," she complained. "It's not like I can take on two guys."

I ignored her as I turned to Dean. "Well? What do we do now?"

His brow furrowed. "Keep her here for now, I guess. This place is pretty secure. I don't think anyone will be able to find her, at least for a few days."

"Didn't you want to talk to her?"

He shook his head. "That can wait. You should question her first."

His comment surprised me. "What would I ask her?"

He raised his eyebrows at me, as if the answer was obvious. "Don't you want to know why your stepfather sent a hitman to kill you? You told me yourself you were forced to jump from the train." It seemed Dean had figured a lot of things out already. I began to wonder what else he had been up to in the last five days.

Meg began to giggle. "John's always hated your guts, Sam. Why wouldn't he try to kill you?"

I turned on her. "I'm surprised he hasn't had you killed yet, Meg. Three years and I'd think you'd be getting a little boring, no?"

She smiled up at me. "I know a lot of tricks."

'You're a slut, Meg. That's all you ever were."

"If I'm a slut then so was your mother," she retorted.

It took every ounce of restrain in me to stop from hitting her. "You don't know anything about my mother," I snarled as I jabbed a finger at her. "She was nothing like you."

Meg's annoying laughter filled the room again. "John only kept her around because she was good in the sack. At least I'm able to contribute something more. I handle his business in and out of the sheets. The only useful thing Mary ever did was kill herself."

I forced myself to breathe as my vision turned red. If I had still held the gun in my hands there was no doubt in my mind that Meg would have a bullet hole in her head right now. "She didn't kill herself," I heard myself say, my voice shaking. "John killed her."

"Oh my!" She put on an expression of fake concern. "How horrible."

"Shut up, bitch," I growled. "Now tell me the damn truth. Why did John kill my mother?"

The corners of her lips slowly turned upwards. "You can't keep me here forever, you know. People will realize I'm missing."

"Let them," I shot back. "Now tell me the truth or I swear I will kill you right here in this room."

She began to laugh. "You don't have the balls, Sam."

Dean stepped forward. "He may not, but I definitely do." His voice was like ice. I cast him a glance and immediately knew that he wasn't lying. He would kill her.

Meg seemed to realize this too, because her face had paled considerably, her voice lacking any amusement as she said, "I don't know why John had her killed, all right?"

Her words were like a punch in the gut, because even though I had been sure that John was behind my mother's death, this was the first time I had confirmation that my suspicions were correct. Rage began to boil through my veins and I had to clench my teeth to stop from yelling out.

"You're lying," Dean announced calmly and I was suddenly glad that he was here. He had never known my mother so he was capable of keeping a level head in this situation. He'd get Meg to talk. I was afraid that if I continued with the interrogation I wouldn't be able to stop myself from killing her before she gave me answers.

Dean crouched down, his eyes now on the same level as Meg's. His face was an emotionless mask as he asked, "Do you know what I'll do to you if you lie again?" His voice made even me a little scared and Meg's eyes became wider as she stared at him. "Now answer Sam's question."

She opened her mouth but seemed to choke on her words. Then she let out a breath and said, "She was leaving. I heard that Mary was planning to leave and I don't think John liked that very much."

"You don't think?" Dean questioned, cocking his head to the side.

"I- I just know John wasn't happy about it, okay?" she stammered. "He never told me why he had her killed."

Dean stood up again and looked towards me. "I think that really is all she knows."

I ran a hand down my face, trying to control the emotions threatening to break through me, like a surge of water cracking open a damn. My mom and I could have been living across the country right now. We could have been happy if it wasn't for John. "Where is he?" I barely managed to say, my body shaking with anger. "Tell me where he is right now."

"I don't know." Meg shook her head. "He doesn't tell me everything."

"Liar!" I roared as I stomped towards her. "Tell the fucking truth! Where is he?" I was about to hit her when arms grabbed me and began to push me back. I struggled against Dean's strength but I was eventually shoved out of the room, the door slamming shut.

"Sam, calm down," Dean ordered as I tried to manoeuvre around him and reach for the door knob. "She doesn't know."

"How the fuck do you know?" I screamed as I finally backed up on my own, knowing it was useless to fight against him. He was stronger and older, and I was just a fucking kid, wasn't I?

"Because I can tell, Sam. I can tell she's not lying."

"You can't tell shit," I snapped as I began to pace the room, casting glances at the door Dean was blocking. Behind it was someone who could tell me where my stepfather was. I had never seen him outside of the house he had kept me and my mother in. I didn't know where he spent the rest of his time, but I needed to find out. Because I knew now that I wouldn't be satisfied unless John was dead. Screw the police and the justice system. For all I knew, he had them paid. It wouldn't surprise me.

I stopped treading and shut my eyes, gripping my head in my hands. "This is so screwed up." I took in a shaky breath as I tried to calm myself. "Everything is so screwed up."

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and suddenly I was throwing myself backward. I hit the rear of the couch and tore my eyes open, my heart beating like a jackhammer in my chest. For a moment I had been transferred back to the alleyway, Vince's hand on my shoulder pushing me down, but now I realized it had only been Dean who had tapped me. He was standing a few feet away, his body still blocking the door and a worried look on his face. I felt embarrassment at my reaction.

"Sorry," I mumbled, reaching up a hand to rub the back of my neck. I cast my eyes around the empty space, avoiding his gaze.

"You don't have to worry anymore," he said, and I looked at him, puzzled. But then I realized what he was talking about and I caught my breath.

"About what?" I asked, but I knew what.

"I took care of them." He stared at me, his face serious. "I made them pay. It's not enough, but..." he trailed off. "Well, just don't worry anymore."

I didn't respond. Mainly because I wasn't quite sure what Dean meant by 'took care of'. Or because I just didn't want to think about it. "What are you talking about?" I made sure I sounded irritated. I wanted him to stop talking right now. I didn't want him to confirm what I feared to be true. I didn't want him to tell me that he knew what had happened.

His gaze grew hard and stony. "When I came back from talking with Vince, Ash told me you might have gone after me. Then I saw you in the hall and I knew something was wrong. I saw the blood and..." He trailed off again but then continued with a stronger voice. "I went back and they were sitting at the bar. They were still talking about it Sam. Talking about what they had done to you." His voice shook with anger.

There it was. He knew. I felt my knees weaken as I grasped the back of the couch to steady myself. "What..." I had trouble finishing the sentence so I tried again. "What are you talking about?"

He continued his story like he had never taken a pause, ignoring my weak inquiry. "So I walked up behind them. I swiped Vince's gun from his belt before he even knew I was there. Then I shot them both in the head. Right there in the bar. In front of everyone."

I stared at him for a moment as I tried to process what he had said. Vince and Leo were dead. The man who had raped me and the one who had helped him were both rotting with bullet holes in their brains. I supposed I should have been ecstatic but I only felt a cold rock in my gut.

"You killed them?" I asked, though I didn't really need him to repeat it. I knew now that the gun tucked away behind him was Vince's gun.

Dean stood silently as he watched my reaction. Did he want me to thank him? To cry? To jump for joy? I didn't know what he expected and I certainly didn't know what was appropriate in a situation like this. How was I supposed to respond? I licked my dry lips and breathed in deeply as I stared at the door that Meg was behind. "No one was supposed to know what happened," I found myself saying.

"No one will," Dean assured me. "They can't brag about it any longer." I closed my eyes as I heard the venom in his voice. Dean had killed two people and he didn't even sound slightly shaken up by it. It scared me now that I knew what he was capable of.

Then I realized that I had been planning murder myself just a few minutes ago. I could have killed Meg. I wanted John dead and even now I knew that I was going to kill him. What made that so different from what Dean had done?

"I've got to go," I announced, not meeting his gaze again. "I've got to rethink a few things." Before he could say anything I was out the door and gone. I needed someone to talk to about all of this. Someone who wasn't involved. I couldn't quite believe it myself, but I needed a damn shrink.

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To Be Continued.