SpN: Public Enemies Book Two (6/?)
3/8/14 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Public Enemies Part Two
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 3338
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic—it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
one/ two/ three/four/ five
What happened next was a lesson Sam absorbed, a lesson in what power really was.
Sam sat like a mannequin in the back seat of Dean's—Assasi's—car, hands folded in his lap, quietly impressed by the feel of the bespoke suit hugging his shoulders, the slipper-feel of his spit-polished shoes. He settled the little yellow silk handkerchief in his pocket for the hundredth time and ignored Assasi's fond smirk as he did. He could get used to high class threads like this. He couldn't wait for the day he could put Dean in threads like this. He could imagine Dean's broad shoulders in a jacket like this, them walking chins-up in the street, in a city that belonged to them, together....
He turned his head to the window, closed his eyes. That was a dream today, sure, but someday, it'd be their lives.
* * * * * *
The drive into the city passed in near silence. Louie muttered occasionally to the punk sitting next to him in the front seat, who grunted in response. Assasi stared out the window, face blank and empty as an unwritten page. Sam sneaked a hand to his chest, pressed down to feel his heart beating so fast it scared him. What if this didn't work? What if A was wrong and Moe Kennedy wouldn't be satisfied with less than blood? There were rules...how was Sam supposed to get at the fucking mick if he wanted Dean's blood? Without backup, how was he gonna kill Big Moe before he hurt Dean? Sam's eyes burned behind his eyelids. Tears wanted to come but his eyes were dry. He took a quiet breath, but it seemed Assasi heard—anyway the blank look receded, his face shifting as he came back from wherever he'd gone. He patted Sam's knee absently. "Soon," was all he said. It was enough to settle Sam—at least slow his galloping heartbeat.
Assasi's big cream car rolled through light after light until finally, the Packard slowed, came to a stop at the curb. Sam peered through the window, neck craning to stare up at a big, gray stone building. Its columns and crest and arches were dark with the grime of coal smoke, of years of neglect.
"This is the place, this is where we fix it," Assasi told Sam, voice colored with satisfaction. Sam blinked, licked paper dry lips. Dean's future was about to be decided in that stone hulk. He smoothed the yellow handkerchief for the hundredth time, made sure it neat. This was it.
The door creaked slightly as Louie's man stepped out, came around to the back to open the door for Assasi. His coat gapped slightly and the morning sun flared off the gat he had shoved into a shoulder holster. Wasn't pretty as Dean's, Sam thought. Nothing about the punk was as pretty as Dean. Fuck, no one was.
Sam dropped his gaze to the front seat, where Dean should be. His brother should be behind the wheel, giving Sam a huge grin and a green wink. Instead he was in lock-down at A's and Louie was sitting in his place, looking uncomfortable under Sam's gaze. Sam softened his expression. Louie was worthy family, had done nothing wrong. Sam rubbed his dry, gritty eyes and reminded himself that as much as possible, he loved Louie. This was all gonna work out. It had to. Dean was going to be safe. Hadn't he promised his brother before he'd left that morning? Mr. A would fix it; everything was going to be copacetic again.
"Mr. A—Boss—me and Cocker here, we can come up, lean on 'em a bit—" Louie spoke to Assasi but his eyes were on Sam.
Assasi turned to Sam, an indulgent smile softening the knife-sharp angles of his face. He skimmed the lapel of Sam's suit, a gentle touch ending with his fingers in the ends of Sam's thick hair. "Nah. Me and the boy here, we got a handle on this. It'll be good for him to see just how the deals are run in this city, where the power lies."
Louie's eyebrows pulled together, his eyes still on Sam. Sam frowned a little at the old man's odd look—worry? And maybe guilt and a bit of sadness; that puzzled Sam. Why be sad? This was going to be good, for everyone. They'd make a deal for Dean and it'd all be fixed and then life could go on as usual, maybe better now that Dean was A's made man.
An image of Dean, sobbing and crouched in a tub filled with bloody water shook him, made him warm. In his mind, Dean looked up at him, emerald green eyes spilling over, tears washing streaks through crusted blood. The image shifted to Dean spent and spread out across his bed, his milky skin dusted with golden flecks, his dick soft, heavy in the palm of Sam's wet hand….
"Hey, you with me, Sam? Ready to go to the mats for your brother, Puddy?"
A's hand came down on Sam's knee, it tightened as Sam smiled back at him. Dean was shoved to the back of his mind—he'd take that image out later—hell, he'd make it happen. Later. His chin came up, he felt light enough to float, his blood percolating through his veins. "If it comes to that," Sam said, "I'm ready, all right—with both hands full, Mr. A."
Assasi laughed softly. "Nah, s'not gonna come to that, kid. We got this city right here," he said and made a cupping-squeezing motion with his hands. "We're gonna get Dean what he needs and that means getting you what you need, eh?"
Assasi swept into the police commissioner's office like it was his right. They sailed past his secretary, her red mouth gaping like a fish on the hook. She stumbled around her desk, yelling stop, stop—Assasi broke through the doors and made a beeline to the single leather chair set front and center of the Commissioner's desk. He settled himself with a smile. Sam played the role A had given him. He came to a stop at A's right shoulder, trying to project a cool and collected look—like he belonged right there next to Assasi. He caught a glimpse of himself the glass window behind the desk. Yeah—he could get used to drapes like this.
Commissioner Wagner jumped to his feet, ready to shout down the intruder in his domain, until he met Assasi's eyes. He froze, like a rat in a cobra's crosshairs. Sam noted the effort it took for the big man to relax, to toss A a careless smile.
"Well, well, Mr. Assasi. Ain't it a funny coincidence that here you are in my office and just when Big Moe had himself a bit of trouble and some unwelcome attention drawn to hisself. Heard he lost one of his boys last night. Not that it was much of a loss," Wagner shrugged and rummaged through a battered humidor on his desk. Made a bit of business out of extracting and lighting a foul smelling cigar. Assasi frowned at Wagner but sat motionless. Sam leaned away from the desk and the Commissioner allowed himself a small smile. He blew a thick stream of smoke toward the ceiling, said, "The gunsel was unconnected—just blooded. Good shot though, from what I heard. Though I guess Winchester's boy was a better one. At least he's got that—bad seed, that kid, Winchester senior said so himself. Said he'd never amount to much, said the boy was only good for one thing. Rest his soul," Wagner said without the slightest bit of emotion.
No one talks about my brother like that, Sam bristled. He wanted to cut the mick's fuckin' tongue out. He shoved his hand into his pocket; his fingers twitched the length of his blade. Assasi rolled his head languorously to the side, caught Sam's eye and held it, warning clear.
Don't move, don't breathe, don't give anything away. Or else.
Sam laid a rock steady hand on the back of A's chair. He was insulted that Assasi had even bothered to warn him. The rage that roared through Sam had been there most of his life. He was no dummy. Wasn't like he didn't know when to hold it close and when he could let go.
Assasi leaned back in the chair. Twitching the crease in his pants straight, he said, "That Winchester boy you laid your mouth all over is mine. When you see that boy, you see my son, Dean. This here is my other son, Samuel. Say hello, Sam."
Sam aimed a smirk at the astonished commissioner. Hell, Sam was some surprised himself. There was no surprise in A claiming Dean—Sam expected at some point he would. Claim him as family. Sam's gut burned, thinking of the ways he suspected Assasi wanted to claim Dean. No, what surprised him was Assasi laying claim to him as well, especially like this in public. Interesting.
Wagner stared at Sam, his eyebrows climbing near off his head. "Is that so? Well, well. I'm pleased to meet you, young Mr. Assasi. Your father is a very impressive man." Wagner smirked. "He makes fruit bloom in the dessert, he does. Crops out of nowhere. I suppose I was misinformed as to your parentage."
Assasi leaned back in a more comfortable manner. "Sam and Dean both retain their last name from respect. But it makes no difference; we know who they belong to now."
"Well now, your "son" turned the heat up on Clancy Avenue, didn't he? I know Louie didn’t give the okay for a non-made man to sling lead around in my alley."
"And now he's made and not only made, he's blood family." Assasi took a slim cigarette case out of an inside pocket. He lit a cigarette and blew a few thin smokes rings into the air. "You know, life is about change, without change, things go stagnant. Entropy. Things…die. My man Louie, he knows about change, how quickly it comes, how…silently. He's a student of change." Assasi grinned and Sam huffed quietly. Listened to Assasi's accent come and go and chuckled softly to himself. People were fools.
"What about you, Commissioner?" Assasi said. "How do you feel about change?"
Wagner stared back, swallowed hard. All the bluster he'd had when Assasi swung into his office had slowly wilted with every word Assasi spoke, every gesture he made. And now he'd fixed the commissioner with a mild, inquiring look and the man looked like he wanted to throw up. Sam took in the way the man folded. He watched what happened—the way it happened—like it was a first-run at the Odeon.
Sam noted the way Assasi hadn't made a threatening move, how he'd never raised his voice, and how that in itself was threatening. Sam nodded. Took it all in—the way Assasi sat, the way he smiled, the way his eyes glowed, like amber in sunlight and cold, colder than ice—here was the real power in the city. Sam stood behind A's right shoulder like he belonged there. He gave Wagner a smile of his own, and if he could have seen his own face, he would have laughed. Such smooth, still slightly rounded cheeks, punctuated with a crocodile smile….
When A snapped his fingers and asked, "What did we move into the city at the end of August, Samuel? What was the department's cut?" Sam spit it out like he kept the books instead of parroting what Assasi gave him to say. "Be a shame to cut all that out, wouldn't it, Sam?"
Sam nodded, "Sure would, Mr. A," he said and improvised a bit. "But if you're gonna eat steak, ya cut the fat off."
Assasi smiled and said that was true and a small, dim flame bloomed in Sam's chest. A told Wagner that between the two of them they could cut a deal for Dean that would benefit the cops and magnanimously offered to up their cut a bit, over what Big Moe paid them. Wagner nodded, fat cheeks creasing with what was supposed to be a smile—the man cracked down the center, Sam thought. It was pretty to see.
The meeting came to an end. Assasi contributed generously to the Policeman's Benevolent Society and those crocodile smiles were shared evenly. Sam played the last of his part in the deal, silently passed the envelope Assasi had given him earlier to the Commissioner. Blood money, marked for Dean. Sam promised himself he'd find out what was most important to this man, what he needed to live. Because a day would come when he'd make that man bargain for what made his life worth living, and it was going to be so, so much fun. Sam rolled his shoulders, let the feeling sink into him, examined it—he was a part of the life now, almost as much as Dean. This day…he'd been made himself, in a way. No matter where he went now, people would know he was A's.
For now.
"Well, that concludes business, eh?" Assasi held his hand up. "Sam, how 'bout you run down to the car, get us a few cigars. And tell Louie ta give you the top shelf I got in the trunk. This gavone don't know how to drink." A smiled at Wagner as Sam left the room. He shut the door on Assasi yammering away in that now-you-hear-me-now-you-don't accent. Sam was fuming, choking down his anger. He knew that there was other business going on now, and he should be a part of that, too.
Sam was sure that what was said in his absence had to be important but…he took a deep breath and took off for the car. He'd get the skinny from someone, Assasi or Louie, or one of his men.
The door closed and Wagner started to tear open the envelope.
Assasi sighed. "There's nothing in there but newspaper, ya mook. So. We don’t want a war right now. That's not in my plans. Tell me how I keep Moe in check."
"We give him Winchester's get—I mean your, ah, your boy. I—I don't really see no other way, not without me losing a shitload of my cops trying to keep order."
Assasi nodded, looking thoughtful. "Okay. They'll make it quick on him?"
The commissioner shrugged, sweat dampened his collar, red swept up his neck. "Well…well, no. It won't be. They're gonna wanna make a lesson of him. But it's the risk of business. We all know that. I understand that you've taken the boy in but…but it's just the cost of business, it's a fact, Mr. Assasi."
Assasi nodded again before leaning forward in his chair, a look of concentration on his face. "Alright. Now listen. This is how we're gonna play it. We're gonna make a lotta noise about justice and fair play. Then, my boy does a stretch on the Hill. A sweet rap, nothin' heavy. Say, self-defense. I call the shots on the stretch. Tell Moe's consigliore that I'll step back; I won’t touch anything they got. I won't go through the city and kill every last one of their brats. We made a mistake and we'll eat it—I cede that section of the territory back to him. I don’t want no war. But I'm not gonna sacrifice my boy for it."
"But—"
A stood and leaned over the desk. He stuck his finger into the pudge under the chief's neck. "You don’t know us, man. You think you do, but you don't. You don’t know me. You think I'm some—" A waved his hand through the air. "Some old-country chooch, some thug in a suit. You have no idea. If I decide you need to come visit the brownstone, you will never come out. No piece of you will ever come out. Do we understand each other?"
Sam knew something had happened when he let himself back in the room, something that he was going to hate. Assasi looked at him, his whiskey-tinted eyes gleaming, reflecting back the sun in such a way they appeared yellow. He blinked, slowly, and his expression was…content, like he'd eaten a big meal. Sam fumbled the box of Cubans—the bottle Louie had given him slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a crack.
Sam knew what Assasi had done, the backstabbing chiseler. He'd been betrayed. It burned through him like a lightning bolt. Sam opened his mouth to protest, to scream—whatever the man had done, Sam knew it meant that he'd lost Dean. Sam had failed the only thing in this life he truly wanted. Loved.
Assasi stood. "Leave it, Sam. We're going." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and pushed slighlty. That touch filled Sam with a rage so deep it took his breath away for a long, dark moment. Sam let himself be guided out to the car, let himself be locked into the back seat with the man he was pretty sure had just burned every good thing in his life to the ground.
* * * * * *
They sat in the back of the Packard, and A had Louie roll the privacy window up before turning to Sam. His hand was on Sam's knee and this time there was nothing calming about it. It burned to the bone, his touch so ice-cold it blackened flesh like fire. "Dean's going away, Sam," he said, with all the emotion of a dead thing.
"Why?" Blood pounded against the back of Sam's eyes, pain filled Sam's head. His heart fluttered and clenched like it wanted to stop. His hand shot out and planted against the back of the driver's seat in front of him. He needed something in his hand, something, anything, to stop him from jumping on Assasi and choking him until his eyes burst.
"I'll make sure Dean lands in Haddeston Correctional--The Hill." Assasi said, still calm, distanced, "It'll be easier time than your old man had, I promise you that."
Sam chopped his hand through the air like A's words were ridiculous, beneath notice. "You said he wouldn' get no time, you said he was fine. Why'd ya fuckin' lie ta me, ya chislin' bastard—why?" he shouted.
"Sam, Sam, Sam. Did you really think Dean would get away scot-free? Between the two of us, tell me, did you really believe it?"
Sam swallowed, his eyes dropped. He shook his head, a minute movement but he was aware that Assasi felt him collapse in that moment. Fucking Dean, fucking always…making Sam weak. Sam glared down at his hands and tears pricked his eyes. "He killed a man…what happens now?" Fear made his tongue dry; a taste like zinc filled his mouth.
"Self-defense. He had to pull the trigger or die. Maybe…ten years."
Sam gasped, black percolated in the corners of his eyesight. "Ten years. No."
Assasi held his hands up. "Less—years off for good behavior. Sam, everyone owes me. Dean will be as safe as he can be."
Sam laughed wetly. Safe as he can be. Without Sam at his side, what would happen to Dean?
"And you," Assasi said, "are going to protect your brother the best way you can—" he tossed a brochure for Harvard law school in his lap. "That's what you'll be doing. You study hard, put him first, and Dean will be out and safe in no time. Because you're gonna get him out. Capish?"
Sam looked up at Assasi. Looked right into his satisfied smiling face. Struggled hard, and won, to give Assasi a smile of his own. "Yes sir. I understand perfectly."
part 7
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, original characters
Rating: NC-17
Total Word Count: 3338
Summary: a 1920s AU *very* loosely based on the film, Public Enemy.
Notes/Warnings: abuse, dub-con, harsh images, morally challenged Sam, troubled Dean. There are hints of abuse, physical and sexual, but nothing terribly graphic. The rating is for the overall fic—it varies according to update. For a large part of the fic, the boys are underage.
follows from Public Enemies Book One
one/ two/ three/four/ five
What happened next was a lesson Sam absorbed, a lesson in what power really was.
Sam sat like a mannequin in the back seat of Dean's—Assasi's—car, hands folded in his lap, quietly impressed by the feel of the bespoke suit hugging his shoulders, the slipper-feel of his spit-polished shoes. He settled the little yellow silk handkerchief in his pocket for the hundredth time and ignored Assasi's fond smirk as he did. He could get used to high class threads like this. He couldn't wait for the day he could put Dean in threads like this. He could imagine Dean's broad shoulders in a jacket like this, them walking chins-up in the street, in a city that belonged to them, together....
He turned his head to the window, closed his eyes. That was a dream today, sure, but someday, it'd be their lives.
The drive into the city passed in near silence. Louie muttered occasionally to the punk sitting next to him in the front seat, who grunted in response. Assasi stared out the window, face blank and empty as an unwritten page. Sam sneaked a hand to his chest, pressed down to feel his heart beating so fast it scared him. What if this didn't work? What if A was wrong and Moe Kennedy wouldn't be satisfied with less than blood? There were rules...how was Sam supposed to get at the fucking mick if he wanted Dean's blood? Without backup, how was he gonna kill Big Moe before he hurt Dean? Sam's eyes burned behind his eyelids. Tears wanted to come but his eyes were dry. He took a quiet breath, but it seemed Assasi heard—anyway the blank look receded, his face shifting as he came back from wherever he'd gone. He patted Sam's knee absently. "Soon," was all he said. It was enough to settle Sam—at least slow his galloping heartbeat.
Assasi's big cream car rolled through light after light until finally, the Packard slowed, came to a stop at the curb. Sam peered through the window, neck craning to stare up at a big, gray stone building. Its columns and crest and arches were dark with the grime of coal smoke, of years of neglect.
"This is the place, this is where we fix it," Assasi told Sam, voice colored with satisfaction. Sam blinked, licked paper dry lips. Dean's future was about to be decided in that stone hulk. He smoothed the yellow handkerchief for the hundredth time, made sure it neat. This was it.
The door creaked slightly as Louie's man stepped out, came around to the back to open the door for Assasi. His coat gapped slightly and the morning sun flared off the gat he had shoved into a shoulder holster. Wasn't pretty as Dean's, Sam thought. Nothing about the punk was as pretty as Dean. Fuck, no one was.
Sam dropped his gaze to the front seat, where Dean should be. His brother should be behind the wheel, giving Sam a huge grin and a green wink. Instead he was in lock-down at A's and Louie was sitting in his place, looking uncomfortable under Sam's gaze. Sam softened his expression. Louie was worthy family, had done nothing wrong. Sam rubbed his dry, gritty eyes and reminded himself that as much as possible, he loved Louie. This was all gonna work out. It had to. Dean was going to be safe. Hadn't he promised his brother before he'd left that morning? Mr. A would fix it; everything was going to be copacetic again.
"Mr. A—Boss—me and Cocker here, we can come up, lean on 'em a bit—" Louie spoke to Assasi but his eyes were on Sam.
Assasi turned to Sam, an indulgent smile softening the knife-sharp angles of his face. He skimmed the lapel of Sam's suit, a gentle touch ending with his fingers in the ends of Sam's thick hair. "Nah. Me and the boy here, we got a handle on this. It'll be good for him to see just how the deals are run in this city, where the power lies."
Louie's eyebrows pulled together, his eyes still on Sam. Sam frowned a little at the old man's odd look—worry? And maybe guilt and a bit of sadness; that puzzled Sam. Why be sad? This was going to be good, for everyone. They'd make a deal for Dean and it'd all be fixed and then life could go on as usual, maybe better now that Dean was A's made man.
An image of Dean, sobbing and crouched in a tub filled with bloody water shook him, made him warm. In his mind, Dean looked up at him, emerald green eyes spilling over, tears washing streaks through crusted blood. The image shifted to Dean spent and spread out across his bed, his milky skin dusted with golden flecks, his dick soft, heavy in the palm of Sam's wet hand….
"Hey, you with me, Sam? Ready to go to the mats for your brother, Puddy?"
A's hand came down on Sam's knee, it tightened as Sam smiled back at him. Dean was shoved to the back of his mind—he'd take that image out later—hell, he'd make it happen. Later. His chin came up, he felt light enough to float, his blood percolating through his veins. "If it comes to that," Sam said, "I'm ready, all right—with both hands full, Mr. A."
Assasi laughed softly. "Nah, s'not gonna come to that, kid. We got this city right here," he said and made a cupping-squeezing motion with his hands. "We're gonna get Dean what he needs and that means getting you what you need, eh?"
Assasi swept into the police commissioner's office like it was his right. They sailed past his secretary, her red mouth gaping like a fish on the hook. She stumbled around her desk, yelling stop, stop—Assasi broke through the doors and made a beeline to the single leather chair set front and center of the Commissioner's desk. He settled himself with a smile. Sam played the role A had given him. He came to a stop at A's right shoulder, trying to project a cool and collected look—like he belonged right there next to Assasi. He caught a glimpse of himself the glass window behind the desk. Yeah—he could get used to drapes like this.
Commissioner Wagner jumped to his feet, ready to shout down the intruder in his domain, until he met Assasi's eyes. He froze, like a rat in a cobra's crosshairs. Sam noted the effort it took for the big man to relax, to toss A a careless smile.
"Well, well, Mr. Assasi. Ain't it a funny coincidence that here you are in my office and just when Big Moe had himself a bit of trouble and some unwelcome attention drawn to hisself. Heard he lost one of his boys last night. Not that it was much of a loss," Wagner shrugged and rummaged through a battered humidor on his desk. Made a bit of business out of extracting and lighting a foul smelling cigar. Assasi frowned at Wagner but sat motionless. Sam leaned away from the desk and the Commissioner allowed himself a small smile. He blew a thick stream of smoke toward the ceiling, said, "The gunsel was unconnected—just blooded. Good shot though, from what I heard. Though I guess Winchester's boy was a better one. At least he's got that—bad seed, that kid, Winchester senior said so himself. Said he'd never amount to much, said the boy was only good for one thing. Rest his soul," Wagner said without the slightest bit of emotion.
No one talks about my brother like that, Sam bristled. He wanted to cut the mick's fuckin' tongue out. He shoved his hand into his pocket; his fingers twitched the length of his blade. Assasi rolled his head languorously to the side, caught Sam's eye and held it, warning clear.
Don't move, don't breathe, don't give anything away. Or else.
Sam laid a rock steady hand on the back of A's chair. He was insulted that Assasi had even bothered to warn him. The rage that roared through Sam had been there most of his life. He was no dummy. Wasn't like he didn't know when to hold it close and when he could let go.
Assasi leaned back in the chair. Twitching the crease in his pants straight, he said, "That Winchester boy you laid your mouth all over is mine. When you see that boy, you see my son, Dean. This here is my other son, Samuel. Say hello, Sam."
Sam aimed a smirk at the astonished commissioner. Hell, Sam was some surprised himself. There was no surprise in A claiming Dean—Sam expected at some point he would. Claim him as family. Sam's gut burned, thinking of the ways he suspected Assasi wanted to claim Dean. No, what surprised him was Assasi laying claim to him as well, especially like this in public. Interesting.
Wagner stared at Sam, his eyebrows climbing near off his head. "Is that so? Well, well. I'm pleased to meet you, young Mr. Assasi. Your father is a very impressive man." Wagner smirked. "He makes fruit bloom in the dessert, he does. Crops out of nowhere. I suppose I was misinformed as to your parentage."
Assasi leaned back in a more comfortable manner. "Sam and Dean both retain their last name from respect. But it makes no difference; we know who they belong to now."
"Well now, your "son" turned the heat up on Clancy Avenue, didn't he? I know Louie didn’t give the okay for a non-made man to sling lead around in my alley."
"And now he's made and not only made, he's blood family." Assasi took a slim cigarette case out of an inside pocket. He lit a cigarette and blew a few thin smokes rings into the air. "You know, life is about change, without change, things go stagnant. Entropy. Things…die. My man Louie, he knows about change, how quickly it comes, how…silently. He's a student of change." Assasi grinned and Sam huffed quietly. Listened to Assasi's accent come and go and chuckled softly to himself. People were fools.
"What about you, Commissioner?" Assasi said. "How do you feel about change?"
Wagner stared back, swallowed hard. All the bluster he'd had when Assasi swung into his office had slowly wilted with every word Assasi spoke, every gesture he made. And now he'd fixed the commissioner with a mild, inquiring look and the man looked like he wanted to throw up. Sam took in the way the man folded. He watched what happened—the way it happened—like it was a first-run at the Odeon.
Sam noted the way Assasi hadn't made a threatening move, how he'd never raised his voice, and how that in itself was threatening. Sam nodded. Took it all in—the way Assasi sat, the way he smiled, the way his eyes glowed, like amber in sunlight and cold, colder than ice—here was the real power in the city. Sam stood behind A's right shoulder like he belonged there. He gave Wagner a smile of his own, and if he could have seen his own face, he would have laughed. Such smooth, still slightly rounded cheeks, punctuated with a crocodile smile….
When A snapped his fingers and asked, "What did we move into the city at the end of August, Samuel? What was the department's cut?" Sam spit it out like he kept the books instead of parroting what Assasi gave him to say. "Be a shame to cut all that out, wouldn't it, Sam?"
Sam nodded, "Sure would, Mr. A," he said and improvised a bit. "But if you're gonna eat steak, ya cut the fat off."
Assasi smiled and said that was true and a small, dim flame bloomed in Sam's chest. A told Wagner that between the two of them they could cut a deal for Dean that would benefit the cops and magnanimously offered to up their cut a bit, over what Big Moe paid them. Wagner nodded, fat cheeks creasing with what was supposed to be a smile—the man cracked down the center, Sam thought. It was pretty to see.
The meeting came to an end. Assasi contributed generously to the Policeman's Benevolent Society and those crocodile smiles were shared evenly. Sam played the last of his part in the deal, silently passed the envelope Assasi had given him earlier to the Commissioner. Blood money, marked for Dean. Sam promised himself he'd find out what was most important to this man, what he needed to live. Because a day would come when he'd make that man bargain for what made his life worth living, and it was going to be so, so much fun. Sam rolled his shoulders, let the feeling sink into him, examined it—he was a part of the life now, almost as much as Dean. This day…he'd been made himself, in a way. No matter where he went now, people would know he was A's.
For now.
"Well, that concludes business, eh?" Assasi held his hand up. "Sam, how 'bout you run down to the car, get us a few cigars. And tell Louie ta give you the top shelf I got in the trunk. This gavone don't know how to drink." A smiled at Wagner as Sam left the room. He shut the door on Assasi yammering away in that now-you-hear-me-now-you-don't accent. Sam was fuming, choking down his anger. He knew that there was other business going on now, and he should be a part of that, too.
Sam was sure that what was said in his absence had to be important but…he took a deep breath and took off for the car. He'd get the skinny from someone, Assasi or Louie, or one of his men.
The door closed and Wagner started to tear open the envelope.
Assasi sighed. "There's nothing in there but newspaper, ya mook. So. We don’t want a war right now. That's not in my plans. Tell me how I keep Moe in check."
"We give him Winchester's get—I mean your, ah, your boy. I—I don't really see no other way, not without me losing a shitload of my cops trying to keep order."
Assasi nodded, looking thoughtful. "Okay. They'll make it quick on him?"
The commissioner shrugged, sweat dampened his collar, red swept up his neck. "Well…well, no. It won't be. They're gonna wanna make a lesson of him. But it's the risk of business. We all know that. I understand that you've taken the boy in but…but it's just the cost of business, it's a fact, Mr. Assasi."
Assasi nodded again before leaning forward in his chair, a look of concentration on his face. "Alright. Now listen. This is how we're gonna play it. We're gonna make a lotta noise about justice and fair play. Then, my boy does a stretch on the Hill. A sweet rap, nothin' heavy. Say, self-defense. I call the shots on the stretch. Tell Moe's consigliore that I'll step back; I won’t touch anything they got. I won't go through the city and kill every last one of their brats. We made a mistake and we'll eat it—I cede that section of the territory back to him. I don’t want no war. But I'm not gonna sacrifice my boy for it."
"But—"
A stood and leaned over the desk. He stuck his finger into the pudge under the chief's neck. "You don’t know us, man. You think you do, but you don't. You don’t know me. You think I'm some—" A waved his hand through the air. "Some old-country chooch, some thug in a suit. You have no idea. If I decide you need to come visit the brownstone, you will never come out. No piece of you will ever come out. Do we understand each other?"
Sam knew something had happened when he let himself back in the room, something that he was going to hate. Assasi looked at him, his whiskey-tinted eyes gleaming, reflecting back the sun in such a way they appeared yellow. He blinked, slowly, and his expression was…content, like he'd eaten a big meal. Sam fumbled the box of Cubans—the bottle Louie had given him slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a crack.
Sam knew what Assasi had done, the backstabbing chiseler. He'd been betrayed. It burned through him like a lightning bolt. Sam opened his mouth to protest, to scream—whatever the man had done, Sam knew it meant that he'd lost Dean. Sam had failed the only thing in this life he truly wanted. Loved.
Assasi stood. "Leave it, Sam. We're going." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and pushed slighlty. That touch filled Sam with a rage so deep it took his breath away for a long, dark moment. Sam let himself be guided out to the car, let himself be locked into the back seat with the man he was pretty sure had just burned every good thing in his life to the ground.
They sat in the back of the Packard, and A had Louie roll the privacy window up before turning to Sam. His hand was on Sam's knee and this time there was nothing calming about it. It burned to the bone, his touch so ice-cold it blackened flesh like fire. "Dean's going away, Sam," he said, with all the emotion of a dead thing.
"Why?" Blood pounded against the back of Sam's eyes, pain filled Sam's head. His heart fluttered and clenched like it wanted to stop. His hand shot out and planted against the back of the driver's seat in front of him. He needed something in his hand, something, anything, to stop him from jumping on Assasi and choking him until his eyes burst.
"I'll make sure Dean lands in Haddeston Correctional--The Hill." Assasi said, still calm, distanced, "It'll be easier time than your old man had, I promise you that."
Sam chopped his hand through the air like A's words were ridiculous, beneath notice. "You said he wouldn' get no time, you said he was fine. Why'd ya fuckin' lie ta me, ya chislin' bastard—why?" he shouted.
"Sam, Sam, Sam. Did you really think Dean would get away scot-free? Between the two of us, tell me, did you really believe it?"
Sam swallowed, his eyes dropped. He shook his head, a minute movement but he was aware that Assasi felt him collapse in that moment. Fucking Dean, fucking always…making Sam weak. Sam glared down at his hands and tears pricked his eyes. "He killed a man…what happens now?" Fear made his tongue dry; a taste like zinc filled his mouth.
"Self-defense. He had to pull the trigger or die. Maybe…ten years."
Sam gasped, black percolated in the corners of his eyesight. "Ten years. No."
Assasi held his hands up. "Less—years off for good behavior. Sam, everyone owes me. Dean will be as safe as he can be."
Sam laughed wetly. Safe as he can be. Without Sam at his side, what would happen to Dean?
"And you," Assasi said, "are going to protect your brother the best way you can—" he tossed a brochure for Harvard law school in his lap. "That's what you'll be doing. You study hard, put him first, and Dean will be out and safe in no time. Because you're gonna get him out. Capish?"
Sam looked up at Assasi. Looked right into his satisfied smiling face. Struggled hard, and won, to give Assasi a smile of his own. "Yes sir. I understand perfectly."
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(no subject)
3/9/14 06:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
3/9/14 11:10 pm (UTC)You're so right. Dean will *not* do well in jail.
(no subject)
3/9/14 09:55 pm (UTC)I'm so excited to see more of this! I've really missed it. *hugs*
(no subject)
3/9/14 11:09 pm (UTC)Oh yeah, A's too smart for his own good, all right. ;)
*HUGS*
(no subject)
3/11/14 02:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/11/14 02:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/11/14 03:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/11/14 03:04 am (UTC)You're the best!! ♥ ♥
(no subject)
12/30/14 10:03 pm (UTC)Think we can expect it anytime soon? It has been nearly 9 months since this cliffhanger ......shouldn't we get time off for good behavior and a lot of patience ??? Puh...leeze ?????
(no subject)
12/30/14 10:11 pm (UTC)I promise, I'm working on it! I spent all day thinking of how to get this part going, talked about it in my LJ...I love this story and I want to finish it!
And thank you so much for this--it lets me know folks do care about this story!
*HUGS*!!!