Rogue and Jubilee strolled into the great entrance hall of the mansion, and there was a cluster of people all shaking hands and talking quietly among themselves. Rogue noted the two men from the car, the witch, a stand-offish Logan, and the Professor, and also a few curious students were lingering on the upper floors by the stairs. One glare from Logan sent them scurrying.
Rogue overheard the one called Dean talking to the Professor as she approached.
“Can you get all the kids out for at least one night? It’d be safer. I’m not used to working in a house full of kids. That could get messy.”
“I can,” the Professor commented. “I’ve been working on the logistics all day, so it will take approximately an hour to execute. In the meanwhile, please make yourselves at home. You have free run of the mansion, from the ground floor up. The manifestations have been limited to the upper floors only thus far, so I doubt that you’ll need access to the lower levels. You’ll need to see Logan or myself for security clearance there.”
“We’re only interested in the places where the manifestations have happened,” commented the taller, darker-haired man called Sam. “If we need to go anywhere else, we’ll be very specific and you can have someone escort us, if it will help.”
Jubilee again poked Rogue in the side and whispered, “I so want that one. He’s one long, lean slab of muscle.” Jubes cocked her head to one side and tossed her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “Maybe he likes hot young Asian chicks.”
Rogue rolled her eyes and stepped forward to join the conversation. After being introduced to Sam and Dean formally, she openly admitted her involvement in the seance, knowing another lengthy question and answer session would follow. She would bend over backwards and yodel if it would help get the ghosts out of the mansion quicker.
An hour and three empty coffee and tea pots later, the two hunters were up to speed on everything that had happened. The sun had gone down and the children had been evacuated to a few safe houses for the night. Dean had asked Rogue to step aside with him while others started prepping for whatever the hunters intended to do.
“So far we’ve got everything we need to know,” the hunter began, “but there are a few other details that got left out.” He looked her straight in the eyes, all business, no sass this time, and Rogue found herself liking this side of him even more than the shameless flirt. This was a man she could take seriously, and he engendered a sense of safety in her that she hadn’t felt for many days.
Dean continued, “I understand that this place was in chaos after the raid where these guys died. I need to know some more details, stuff that won’t be easy to talk about, but you were here. I need eyewitness knowledge. Can you talk about it?”
“Yeah,” she spoke softly. “I was in the middle of it all. I even saw some of them die, some of the ones who are haunting here now.”
“Okay, that’s a good place to start. How did they die?”
Rogue froze in a moment of silence, debating what to tell the hunter. That Logan had cut the soldiers down in bloody, brutal rakes of his claws? That he had stabbed and shredded through their hearts and lungs, hacked through their faces and bellies and left one or two of them in dismembered pieces? She dodged the gory details and answered, “Our security people defended the students who hadn’t been able to escape the building yet. There was shooting by the soldiers... and some stabbings. I didn’t see it all, just some of it.”
Dean had her pinned with his eyes, not letting her dwell too much on one particular thing. “What else happened? How many were there?”
“I was running for my life, and I don’t know everything. We were running through the halls, and twice the soldiers almost had us, but Logan got there in time to stop them. They were using drugged darts and machine guns and knives. Four of them had us pinned in the foyer, but Logan stopped them. Some of them shot at us and one set off an explosive, but we’d already ran through an escape hatch. It was chaos, all a blur...” Rogue heard her voice grow weaker and fought back tears at the memories.
“It’s okay, don’t let all this freak you...” Dean started to reach for her cheek to stroke a hand down her face in a comforting gesture, but Rogue recoiled from the touch. He instantly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s my mutation,” she explained. “My skin is lethal. If you touch me, bare skin to bare skin, my mutation will drain your strength, and maybe kill you within a few seconds.”
“Woah,” Dean breathed. “That’s got to suck, pardon the bad pun.”
Rogue laughed nervously and started relaxing again, “Yeah, it does, and you wouldn’t believe the vampire jokes I get because of it.” She noted Jubilee and Sam closing in on where they were standing. Nodding toward the two approaching people, Dean turned and looked, then returned his attention to Rogue.
“I’ve seen a few mutations in my time, but that’s a new one on me. Bet it makes a late night make-out session sort of a challenge.” He twinkled the hazel eyes at her again with a wicked smile.
“It makes it impossible,” she admitted and knew she was blushing from the heat in her face.
“Nah, a real man lives for a challenge like that,” Dean whispered to her through her hair, and this time she did not pull back. Meeting eyes again, he gave her a flirting wiggle of the eyebrows before backing away a respectable distance. He was so like Logan, she thought; so cocky, so confident, too damned sexy to be legal, so... so... tempting. Rogue sighed deeply to herself and refocused just in time to see Logan glaring at the younger man who stood so close by her.
Logan hadn’t shown any expressions other than mistrust and contained hostility since the two hunters had arrived, and he had treated them in a barely civil manner. Now he was practically simmering with disapproval and contempt. Rogue cast him a soothing smile and hoped the two men didn’t tangle before the job got done. They needed the hunters badly.
Jubilee and Sam came to stand in a cluster with Dean and Rogue, and Logan kept a distance that Rogue knew was nowhere near out of hearing range for his sensitive ears. He could easily hear every word they spoke. Jubilee’s voice drew her attention back.
“It’s not often we meet non-mutants who are friendly and even knowledgeable about this place. You surprise me.” She ran a hand down Sam’s arm and gave a gentle squeeze over the biceps. “Nice,” she purred and Rogue saw Sam blush just a little, but smile.
“Well,” Dean commented, “our daddy raised us right, I guess. Mutations are just a part of nature, like being freakishly tall, or having a Neanderthal uni-brow.” He glanced at his younger, taller brother, who didn’t hesitate in commenting on his own observations.
“What Dean says is true. It’s like being awkwardly short, or bow-legged enough to walk straddle of a fire hydrant. It’s just the way we’re born.” Sam smiled radiantly at his shorter brother.
“Wow, I can tell you two are brothers, sure enough,” Jubilee said. “I hope you’re as good at ghost-busting as you are at bickering.”
“We’re better,” Dean assured her. “There’s still one thing we need to know. Where are the bodies of the dead soldiers?”
Jubilee stared at Rogue, who turned and stared at Logan, who just shrugged his shoulders. He had been listening; Rogue had known it. And if anyone knew where the bodies were buried, it would have been Logan. Saying a few words to Bryony where they’d been standing, she and Logan walked to Rogue’s side to join the conversation.
“We don’t know where the bodies are,” Logan said. “When we got back into the mansion there was nothing left of them, not even shell casings or a bootlace, only some bloodstains. Apparently the strike team was very thorough in clean-up. We don’t know who they were, or where the bodies were taken, or who took them, though it’s a safe assumption that their commanding officer arranged a thorough sweep before we had a chance to get back here.”
“That is not good,” Dean commented. “If we knew where the bodies were, getting rid of the ghosts becomes really easy. Salt ‘em and burn ‘em, and grab an early supper. If they were special ops military, they could be anywhere, including already cremated.”
“Which would mean,” added Sam, “that this is more than just a routine haunting. Logan, do you remember exactly how many soldiers died here, and how? The others seemed a little vague on that, even confused on some points.”
Logan hesitated a few seconds before answering levelly, “I don’t know exactly how many there were, but I’d say roughly ten. One in the kitchen, four in the halls, four in the foyer, and maybe one or two more that I don’t recall.”
“You took them all out?” Sam asked with a degree of respect in his voice.
“Yeah.”
“Single-handedly?” Dean asked, showing no emotion.
“Yeah.”
“Bet you’re packing right now,” Dean added with a slight smirk. Logan matched the smirk, and the claws slithered down from his hands, gleaming and wicked.
“Yeah. I’m packin’ 24-7-365.”
Rogue noted Sam’s eyes go wide as dinner plates before asking, “You took them all out in hand-to-hand combat?”
“It was more like claws-to-thorax combat,” Logan added laconically, “except for the ones with shredded faces and intestines.” Rogue noticed Bryony press her hand to the side of her own face and blink several times, as if trying to mentally steady herself, and Rogue wondered if Logan had told the witch about his claws before he’d slept with her. If not, she’d handled that revelation like a trooper.
Damn her. Again, Rogue forced down the jealousy and focused on the conversation.
The two brothers looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Dude, are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” And then, “Yep - exorcism.”
“Okay, you two are just freaky,” Jubes lipped in. “What can I do to help?”
Dean snapped into business mode immediately, “You help Sam bring what we need from the car. Rogue, can you lay hands on anything that the dead guys touched, or wore, or left behind? Anything at all, even a wisp of hair or a piece of blood-stained carpet? Anything with a little of their DNA on it?”
Rogue thought for a few moments, then admitted, “I don’t think there’s anything left. The soldiers removed everything, and the stained carpeting has been replaced and disposed of, I’m sure.”
Logan confirmed that, “Yeah, everything has been cleaned and removed. There’s nothing of them left here.”
“No, wait!” Rogue shouted. “The one who manifested in my bathroom splattered blood on me, and the gown maybe is still in the trash can in my room. I’ll go see if it’s been tossed yet or not,” and she ran for the stairs. Sam and Jubilee exited to retrieve the needed tools from the car, leaving Dean and Logan standing awkwardly and alone in the foyer.
“So,” Dean began, thumbs hooking into his belt and leaning slightly backwards so he wasn’t as obvious in having to look up into Logan’s face, “you took out ten special ops-trained soldiers single-handedly. Impressive.”
“I”m the best there is at what I do,” Logan smirked down at the smaller man, scenting him without trying to hide it. It took an alpha to know an alpha, and in spite of the initial sense of hostility Logan experienced when he’d seen Dean flirting with Marie, he had an instinct that the younger man knew what he was doing and could be trusted with the safety of the school.
“Those claws - that’s not a mutation, right?”
“Right.”
“Interesting...”
“Leave Rogue alone.” Logan had a knack for cutting to the chase.
“Why? I didn’t see a ring on her finger.” Dean smothered a fake yawn and rocked back on his heels a few times.
“She’s been through a lot lately and she doesn’t need some guy jerking her chain, then hitting the road.”
“Who are you, her father?” Dean noticed the slight twitch in Logan’s right eye and knew he’d hit a sore spot.
“I’m her friend and a little more, so don’t mess with her. She’s somethin’ special to me, and she doesn’t need any more complications in her life right now. Just back the hell off and focus on the job.”
“I don’t need any self-appointed bad-ass telling me how to do my job,” Dean poked a finger into Logan’s chest as he continued, “since you’ve done such a bang-up job so far with the haunting.”
Logan had gathered a handful of the front of Dean’s shirt by that time and was starting to lift the younger man up onto his toes when Rogue came bounding down the stairs with the bloody gown clutched in her hands. “I found it! Now what do we....” she trailed off, seeing the obviously hostile posturing of the two men before her.
“Well now, fellas, shall I go fetch my tape measure and we can settle this cockfight quickly?” Both men removed their hands from the other and stepped one pace backward, still glaring at each other. “Good boys,” breathed Rogue. “Now let’s all try to make nice long enough to kick some ghost-ass outta this place.”
Within thirty minutes the seance room had been swept again with holy water and incense as Bryony and Rogue did the prep work for the exorcism. Logan noted the sawed-off double-barrel shotgun that Dean had laid on the table and also noted the smell of salt strong alongside the smell of gunpowder. Sam had been flipping through a worn book until he’d marked one page and laid the book face down on the table beside the salt-loaded shotgun.
Jubilee had placed a ring of white candles around the perimeter of the original circle where the ghosts had been invited into the mansion. Then Bryony placed a good-sized metal pot on a couple of bricks, lit several small blocks of charcoal inside, and laid a handful of small tinder and some loose herbs in piles on the side, next to Rogue’s bloodied gown.
“Ladies, maybe you should find a better place to be right now,” Dean commented as he and his brother started lighting the candles in the circle. Rogue noted Logan’s hand reaching for the doorknob, but she stopped him with a gloved touch.
“I’m staying. I’ve been through every step of this whole disaster, so I’m in it to the bloody end.”
“Bloody ends are what we don’t need, and you’re not gonna be here in the middle of it, darlin’,” Logan murmured as he pushed out of her grasp and opened the door. “Out.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’m not in the mood for a lover’s spat, so I’m leaving, at least,” groused Jubilee before tossing a last look at Sam. “Try not to get yourself killed before I have a chance to do something with you that I might regret later.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?” Sam grinned as he lit the last candle.
“Definitely,” Jubilee smiled and blew him a kiss before exiting the open door.
“Logan’s right,” commented Dean, focusing on Rogue. “You should get out of here now, before the shit hits the fan. If I have to shoot at these bastards, I don’t want civilians in the line of fire. I’ve taken a load of rock salt before, and it hurts like hell even if it won’t kill a human. Out.”
Logan noted Rogue’s mouth open, then shut, her shoulders shrug, and she followed Jubilee out the door, leaving Bryony the only woman in the room.
Logan started to nod her toward the door, but she shook her head no, and stood her ground, adding, “I’m not a ‘civilian’ in that sense.”
Walking toward her, Logan ran a hand around the back of her neck and eased her around to look into his eyes. “I don’t want you hurt in this. Go with the girls and make sure they’re safe, in case this room doesn’t hold ‘them’.” He nodded toward the circle where it was hoped the ghosts would manifest and be trapped. “I’m the one they want, so you have no place here, putting yourself at risk.”
“He’s right,” Sam added. “Out is safer than in, this time.” Dean nodded his agreement.
“Okay,” Bryony threw up her hands, planted a quick kiss on Logan’s lips, and pulled the door shut behind her. The three females left the hallway and moved toward the foyer, in case any unexpected visitors might try to enter the mansion, accidentally interrupting the exorcism rite.
It was only a few minutes until the women could hear shouting, cursing, rapid-fire Latin chanting, and the deep, distinctive growl that could only be Logan. They all waited, tense and grasping each other’s hands, while the sounds drifted from above.
Within the room, Dean had summoned the unwanted ghosts into the circle by burning some of the drawing herbs and a piece of the bloody gown in the metal bowl, while using Logan’s presence to taunt the intruders. They had come for mutants, and here was a mutant for them to take revenge upon, their killer.
Before the ritual could be completed, a cold wind rose in the room and began fluttering the candles, rising strongly and threatening to overturn the items on the table. Sam made a grab for the incantation book just as it fluttered from the table and the page he’d marked was lost. Scrambling for the correct page again in the near darkness, he didn’t see the commanding officer of the ghostly visitors stride through a darkened spot in the circle and reach for Logan, whose claws snaked out and connected with the officer’s chest, leaving the two locked together in a fearful grasp.
Logan felt his claws sink into the semi-manifested form, then the dreadful cold began seeping into him through the metal claws, eventually stealing up his arms and into his chest. He fought the dragging sensation while noticing other shadows forming inside the circle. The soldiers were following their commander and manifesting inside the ring of guttering candles, what few remained alight.
Dean grabbed the shotgun from the table and blasted two wraiths who were reaching for Sam as he desperately sought the proper page, then with a quick glance at his brother, Sam started the thread of Latin that would banish the spirits, hopefully forever.
Logan felt himself grow colder and colder inside his body, an unnatural cold that brought him almost to the brink of panic. He began ripping his claws down through the still partly-unformed body of the officer, but it seemed to have no effect on the ghost. The semi-solid right hand of the spirit then merged with Logan’s own flesh, and the hand sank into Logan’s chest and touched his beating heart, draining even more heat and energy from him, leaving Logan gasping and shaking.
The shades in the circle began flickering out of existence as Sam poured his energy into the incantation, the Latin pouring glibly from his tongue, and Dean turned the reloaded shotgun and the last rock salt-loaded shell on the officer, hesitating to fire until the last moment, not knowing what effect a salt blast would have on the two men, one dead and one very much alive, locked together in a deathly grapple.
Sam spoke the last lines of the incantation, and the ghostly officer flickered momentarily, then released his grip on Logan’s heart who went to his knees. The ghost turned toward Dean, and the older brother raised the remaining shreds of the bloody gown before the ghost’s face.
“This is your blood, the last bit of you left on the face of this earth. You are banished!” and Dean threw the gown into the fire pot with tinder and herbs and salt, and the mixture combusted, throwing smoke and sparks into the air as the blood was burned away.
Flickering again in the dancing light of the flames, the soldier seemed to gasp a moist breath, reached a faltering hand toward Logan again, who was just starting to climb to his feet, and before the ghost could once again make contact with the living, Dean raised the shotgun and fired point blank at the drained spirit, splattering the spirit into shreds of non-existence as tongues of black flame came roaring up from the floor and dissolved what little was left of the wraith-form.
He was gone.
They were all gone.
Banished.
Logan gasped a few breaths and tried to settle himself, thinking that he’d never felt so cold in his life. Sam was shaking slightly as he extinguished the ring of candles. Dean was locked down tight, watching every corner of the room to make sure nothing was moving but the three of them, then opened the bedroom window to let the smoke start to clear.
The silence from above alerted the three women in the foyer, and Rogue instinctively started toward the stairs, but Bryony caught her arm and held her back, saying, “Trust them. They’re the best hunters I’ve ever known. It’ll be all right.”
Rogue hugged herself and nodded, then stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs for any sign that the banishing was over. Jubilee had remained uncharacteristically silent through the whole experience.
After a few minutes’ time had crawled past, all three men appeared at the top of the stairs. “Everything all right down there?” Dean asked, his voice confident, his natural cockiness returned.
“Just dandy,” Bryony commented. “Are you ready for the clean-up squad?”
“Ready,” Sam affirmed.
“What clean-up?” Logan grumbled. “Thought the bastards were finished, done for?”
“They are,” Dean added. “When dark spirits are eliminated, sometimes it leaves a sort of energy stain, a taint in the area. Since this is a school and there are ‘paths in residence, it’s good to give the area an old-fashioned psychic scrub-down. And I know someone who’s very, very good at that.” He nodded toward Bryony, who smiled her appreciation at his words.
“It’s something we can work as a team, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll assist me?”
“Just tell me that I don’t have to mop up ghost guts, and I’m all yours,” snarked Jubilee.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000