It was a dark and stormy night, Molly Malone stood on the cliffs edge, her face a twisted mask of rage and disgust. A bolt of lighting cut through the heavy storm clouds illuminating the roiling sea and the giant rocks that lined its shore below the cliff's edge and for a moment her resolve waned, but only for a moment, the next bolt of lighting illuminated the free fall that sent her crashing onto the jagged rocks below.
Off in the distance an eerie howling could be heard, its baleful chorus rode the tumultuous currents of the storm's winds until it too dropped along the steep edge of the cliff, quieting only when its journey came to an abrupt end next to the woman's battered body.
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The tiny sea side village of Cliff's Haven sat snuggled between the ocean and the surrounding cliffs, after which the town had been named. It held the boasting rights of being a picture perfect specimen of what one would expect a small fishing village to be.
Small shops lined the main street, offering everything from antiques to handmade quilts. The docks were lined with small fishing barges and boats that offered to take tourists out on the fishing adventure of their lives. Seagulls glided along the gentle sea-mist covered breezes and the briny smell of the ocean lazily wound its way through the small village.
The town held a certain tranquility that could only be found in a place where time appeared to have stopped and the modern world had yet to make its way in; that's not say that one couldn't find a Starbuck's nestled along the shops on main street or a sleek sports car winding it's way along the village's narrow streets, but for the most part it looked as if this village had been forgotten by time and allowed to continue on untouched by the outside forces of the contemporaneous world that lurked just beyond the protective boundaries that the cliffs provided.
The tiny hamlet was a Mecca for burnt out city slickers looking for the ideal place to unplug and recharge their weary souls. In the summer its beaches would be brimming with families looking for an escape from the pressures of life and Main Street would come alive with friendly salutations as tourists and villagers mingled along its tree lined sidewalks, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it gently kissed those who milled about.
However, for a brief moment in time the small village's inviting façade was overshadowed by a dark and terrifying secret that attracted the attention of not the burnt out city slickers or even the families looking for an escape, but that of a man who lived his life shrouded in darkness in a never ending battle to wipe the Earth's surface clean of all things evil.
It was this secret that had brought Sam and Dean Winchester to Cliff's Haven. The two had been heading to their friend Bobby's when they got a message off their dad's cell phone from someone, named Oliver Rist, urging their father to come back as IT was back and the killings were starting all over again.
After a call to Bobby letting him know that their plans had changed, Dean called Oliver and told him that he and his brother would be coming to help. Oliver expressed his gratitude but insisted that he felt this matter would be better handled by their father, John, as he was already familiar with the particulars of this certain case. Oliver quickly changed his mind and agreed to the brothers coming after Dean had explained to him that John couldn't make it and the reason was that he had died a few months ago.
The sun had begun it's descent in the evening sky and shadows grew longer as the boys pulled into the parking lot of the Anchors Away motel. Sam got of the car and went into the motel's office to check in. Dean waited for him in the car his fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the song that was playing on the radio.
Sam came out of the office their room's key in hand. He leaned in through the open passenger's side window, handed Dean the key and told him that he would meet him at the room in a few. Seeing the questioning look his brother gave him, Sam explained that Oliver had called in and booked the room for them and asked the clerk to give him a call when they arrived so he could come and talk to them and that he had decided to wait for Oliver in the office while Dean headed back to the room and got things settled.
A middle aged man who resembled the cousin from the final season of the Brady Bunch came into the motel's office, "Evening, Joe, you called," he addressed the man behind the counter.
"Yep, sure did Oliver," Joe replied then nodded at Sam, "I believe the young man sitting over there is waiting to see you."
Sam sat in the chair his mouth wide open; he tried unsuccessfully to stop the giggle that escaped past his lips as he stood to shake hands with Oliver. 'Oh dear lord this has to be some kind of a joke. I mean c'mon he looks like an older version of Cousin Oliver. Oh good god, Dean's gonna have field day with this,' Sam thought and felt his cheeks growing red as he thought about Dean and his sure to be reaction to this man's appearance.
Oliver either didn't notice or choose to ignore Sam's giggle as he extended his hand in a gesture of greetings to the younger man, "Hi, Oliver Rist here, I talked to you or your brother on the phone earlier today."
Sam took the man's hand, gave it a hardy shake and answered, "Hello, I'm Sam, you spoke to my brother. How about we go to the room and you can tell us more about why you called."
Oliver nodded and together they walked down to the room in which the Impala was parked in front of. Sam turned to his companion and motioned for him to wait outside while he went in for a quick minute. After having closed the door behind him Sam let out the laughter he had been holding in. Dean quizzically looked at his brother and for a moment he feared that Sam had finally lost it. Brushing the tears that had fallen free from his having laughed so hard Sam calmed himself down and answered his brother's question of, "Just what the Hell's so funny."
Sam couldn't help but laugh again at the look on his brother's face as Dean exclaimed, "No freaking way, dude that's not even funny, you know Cousin Oliver creeped me out. That whole John Denver thing he had going on was just too much."
Sam drew in a deep breath, "Seriously, Dean, this man called for our help, well dad's, I know how hard it is for you, but do you think you could keep yourself in check while we talk to him…..you know no Cousin Oliver jokes?"
"Screw the jokes, Sammy, I don't think I can talk to the guy. Seriously, there's two things in the world that scare the crap outta me, flying and Cousin Oliver, neither of them are natural Sammy, trust me on this," Dean said as he let the curtain fall back after he had gotten a good look at Oliver.
"Dean, dude, please, this guy needs our help. He can't help the way he looks or even that his parents named him Oliver, so can you please grow up long enough for us to talk to him and see just what's going on?"
Dean looked at Sam and nodded, "But, I promise you Sammy, he gives me the slightest indication that something is off and I'm shooting him right where he sits."
Sam threw his patented bitch face at his brother and mumbled, "Jerk", opened the door and motioned for Oliver to come inside.
"Bitch," Dean mumbled back as he sat on the bed furthest from the door and watched Oliver enter with disconcerting eye.
Oliver noticed the way Dean was looking at him backed up and asked "Is everything alright?"
Sam shook his head at Dean, Dean shrugged his shoulders and Sam replied, "Yeah, everything's fine. It's been a long drive he's just a little tired."
"Oh, well, we can talk tomorrow if that would be better for you," Oliver offered still having one foot in the room and the other out.
Sam shook his head, "No, it's alright, we better get started. You can fill us in on what you know tonight that'll give us a good place to start tomorrow." Sam motioned for Oliver to enter and to sit in one of the chairs by the window. Casting one last glare at Dean he turned his attention back to Oliver, "So what can you tell us?"
"Well," Oliver began, "it was back in 1986, some twenty years ago. I had just turned sixteen and came to visit some relatives who lived around here. I stayed with my Grandmother and my Aunt. I remember the first few weeks were nice, we spent a lot of time at the beach, walking along the cliffs and spending the summer nights sipping lemonade out on the front porch. And then…." Oliver looked down and when he looked back up his eyes were bright with tears, "And then we heard it, the most god-awful howling, it wasn't like anything we ever heard before. My grandma made us all go inside and she locked the house down tight. After that the howling returned night after night and people were coming up missing only to be found a few days later ripped to shred's up on what the local's began to call Dead Man's Bluff.
Well, the authorities were stumped. The bodies were ripped to shreds and at first they thought it was a wolf pack or something, but the marks on the bodies weren't made from teeth. This went on for about a week or so and then John, your dad, showed up in town asking questions, talking crazy. Many of the locals were too afraid to talk to him, but my grandmother wasn't. She told him what she thought was going on. Your dad was great, he didn't laugh at her and try to make her feel like she was insane; he took what she said and looked into it.
You know what? She was right. That crazy old woman was right. I heard your father talking with her after it was finished. He was curious as to how she had come to the conclusion that she had. Nana, my grandmother, told him about when she was a little girl she had heard stories about such a creature from her dad. She told him about how her dad hunted things like that and even though he didn't want for her to do what he did; he wanted her to know about what was really out there. It was a Black Bucca, a water sprite."
"A Black Bucca," Sam queried, "A water sprite? Aren't sprites supposed to be tiny fairy like creatures? How would a sprite have the ability to kill anyone? Are you sure it was a sprite, this Black Bucca?"
Oliver nodded, "Yes. I wondered the same thing about sprites so I looked into it. The White Bucca are small and mostly mischievous, they play tricks for amusement not to harm. But Black Bucca are a whole different breed. They are small and like the White Bucca they can take the form of any living being they come in contact with. Where the White Bucca prefer to stay in their natural state, the Black Bucca are more willing to change form when they feel they are threatened and as a means to protect themselves.
John had discovered that a woman named Molly Malone had found a way of capturing and controlling one with a special pendant she had found while she was out digging for clams for one day. She would call upon the Bucca to kill those she had disagreements with. The night your father went to confront her and destroy the pendant, Molly ran to the top of Dead Man's Bluff and jumped over. With Molly's death the Bucca was set free, so to speak, its essence was trapped inside the pendant.
Your father tried to get Molly and get the pendant before the tide took her body and it out to sea, but he didn't make it. By the time he reached the bottom of the cliff the tide had come and gone.
For twenty years my little hamlet has known peace, but two nights ago that howling was back and just yesterday a body was found on Dead Man's Bluff ripped apart like all the others had been. I didn't know what else to do, so I called your father. I'm afraid that someone has found the pendant and is using it to once again control the Bucca." Oliver finished his narrative and sat staring expectantly at the two brothers.
"Ok, what makes you think that the pendant has been found? Was Molly's body ever found," Dean asked.
"Well, actually yes, Molly washed up on a beach just north of here a few days after she jumped, and, no the pendant wasn't on her. We thought it fell off and was lost at sea. We moved on and eventually forgot about the whole mess, until now. I have a feeling the pendant has been found because the killings have started again. Bucca's are'nt native to this area; it has to be the same one. I think someone found the pendant and has awoken the Bucca."
Oliver bid the boys goodnight and politely declined a ride home. He told the boys that he felt pretty certain that he was safe as he was carrying around a charm that his Nana had given him when the Bucca was last on the prowl.
"Well, Dean whatchya think," Sam asked, thinking he already knew and sure enough Dean didn't let him down.
"I'm not sure Sammy. I mean the man's still breathing so that says something. I'll hold off judgment until we've dug deeper. His story seems legit, I mean he had a lot of information, but to be honest I'm not ready to shout Bucca just yet. I say we get some sleep and look into this more in the morning. I got first dibs on the shower," Dean rummaged through his duffel pulled out a fresh pair of sleep pants and a clean t-shirt, shooting Sam a half grin he added, "I promise Samantha I'll save you some hot water."
Dean turned the water on and let it heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. It had been a long day and the talk with Oliver brought back thoughts of his dad which in turn brought back the feelings of guilt that any survivor felt over being alive while another had died. He believed that it was supposed to be him that burnt on that funeral pyre, not his dad. He knew his dad had made a deal; had traded his own life for his and even though he knew his dad did what he thought best, it didn't take away the guilt or the pain.
He climbed into the shower, pulled the curtain closed and let the hot water beat against his tight neck and back muscles. Over the sound of the shower he heard thunder rumbling off in the distance.
"Yeah, sure you will," Sam huffed as his brother closed the door. Sam stared at the closed door for a little while before he dug through their bags looking for his dad's journal, he figured he might as well start there while Dean was in the shower.
As Sam, leafed through the journal his mind went back to his brother. He knew it had to have been hard for Dean to be here and to have listened to Oliver talk about their dad. He knew Dean carried around a lot of guilt over their father's death. Sam knew that Dean blamed himself for their dad's death and that no matter how much he tried to convince him otherwise, Dean wouldn't have it.
A clap of thunder boomed off in the distance and Sam drew his attention back to the journal. He sat flipping through the pages until he came to the passages he was looking for. He read his father's handwriting, nostalgia took over and he would have sworn he could hear his father talking to him. His father's voice was saying word for word everything that was written on the page, so when Sam heard his dad say, "Son, look close here. This is what you're looking for," Sam paid attention. His jaw dropped he had seen this, just tonight, and it had been right here in this very room.
Thunder clapped overhead, loud and clear making Sam jump, "Son of a…." he started to say but was interrupted when the motel's room door was knocked inward, the wood splintering sending slivers flying. Sam threw his arm up to cover his face and when he lowered them he saw Oliver standing on the other side.
"What the f.." Dean started to yell as he came skidding to halt next to Sam, his words cutting off as he noticed the empty space where the door had once been.
Sam looked at his brother, then at Oliver, back to Dean, back to Oliver and then, "It's you this time isn't it? You're the one controlling the Bucca. You lied to us; Molly was your aunt, that's how you knew about the pendant. It wasn't because you heard our dad talking to your grandmother it was because your aunt told you."
Oliver stood silhouetted in the doorway, his figure clarifying in the bright flashes of lightening that split the stormy sky, exposing the hate filled smirk that had replaced the soft sad smile from only moments ago. He stepped to the side to reveal the Bucca who had been hidden him. She was a beautiful creature, her skin as dark as the midnight sky, long ebony colored hair hung in cascading ringlets around her face and down her back. Her eyes were a steely gray, her features delicate, all save for the long talons that she had on the ends of her fingers.
The Bucca gracefully entered the room; followed closely by her master. Oliver stepped in front of her and focused his attention on the two men who stood before him. When next he spoke his voice was sharp and full of venom. "I didn't completely lie to you, Sam; I just tweaked a few things. I didn't tell you that Molly Malone was my much loved aunt, that's true, but I would have been stupid to have done so."
"You're damn right on that one you little freak," Dean spat out.
Oliver's eyes glinted and the Bucca stepped forward delivering a slap to Dean's face, the likes of which sent him flying backwards. Sam called out for his brother and made to move by his side when he found himself frozen to the spot he had been standing when Oliver spoke.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Oliver jeered, "If you value your brother's life, you'll stay put and do what you're told." Oliver nodded and the Bucca pulled Dean up from the floor and held him front of her, one of her talons pressed against his neck.
Once Oliver was sure things were under control he motioned for Sam to exit the hotel room. Sam looked at Dean, who shook his head no, shrugged and left the room. Next Oliver motioned for the Bucca to follow, telling her to keep a tight hold of her captive. He took one last look around the room and then he too exited out into the cold hard rain.
Once everyone was securely situated in Oliver's car and he was certain neither of the boys would be able to break free, he started the car and headed to Dead Man's Bluff. While they were driving he continued where he had left off, his voice still carrying the same cold hatred it had from before.
"I didn't lie about coming here to visit relatives and I didn't lie about staying with my grandmother and aunt. Everything I told you about them was true. My great-grandfather had been a hunter and he had taught my grandmother a thing or two. My grandmother is the one who put your father onto my aunt. She had discovered what my aunt had been doing and lacking the courage to take care of it herself she called in for outside help. I heard her telling your dad all this. I listened into their conversation after he had run my aunt off the cliff. She didn't have to die you know. He could have left her be, but no, in his sick twisted sense of right and wrong he chased her down like some beast and forced her to jump."
"Your aunt was sick, dude," Dean said, "She was twisted. She trapped this creature and forced it to do her will. She used this being to murder other people. Dude if anyone deserved to die it was her."
Oliver let out a low psychotic laugh, "Yeah, well then I guess your father deserves it as well, and since he's already passed on you get the honor of taking his place….you know the sins of the father and all that."
Oliver parked the car in the dirt lot intended for just that thing. He got out and ordered the rest of the cars occupants to do the same. He walked around the passenger side and stood next to Sam, a small gun making an appearance in his hand that he pointed at the younger man letting him know that any miss-steps would earn him a bullet hole somewhere on his body.
The Bucca roughly hauled Dean over to the edge of the cliff and stood there waiting for her master to give her, her next order. Sam stood still, his eyes locked on those of his brother's. He couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't believe that once again he was facing losing his older brother.
He turned, and looked at Oliver, his eyes begging for his brother's life, "Look, man you don't want to do this."
"I don't," Oliver softly queried, then shouted, "I don't? I'll tell you what I didn't want to do. I didn't want to live out the rest of my life with my grandmother alone. I was sent to live with her and my aunt because my parents had been killed in a fire. My aunt understood me, she loved me; but, my grandmother, she treated me like I was something that should be hunted down and destroyed. After, your dad left I snuck into her room and strangled her. I figured it was either her or me. So you see, if I could kill my own flesh and blood that easily killing your brother should be a piece of cake."
"Wow man, you really are all kinds of crazy aren't you," Dean shot back his voice grew shaky as he felt the Bucca pulling him closer to the cliff's edge, "I get it I do. An eye for an eye and all that, fine, but you do realize that after you have your friend here throw me over, the score is even; you do, don't you? That means you have to let Sam go."
"Dean, no," Sam called out, "Don't say that. No one's dying tonight. No one has to. Please Oliver, Dean didn't kill your aunt and neither did our dad. She jumped, she took her own life."
"Enough," Oliver shouted and nodded, "I have your word that the score will be even and that Sam wont come after me? That once this is over we go our separate ways never to see each other again."
"You have my word. You let Sam go, unharmed and the score will be even."
"Dean, you can't make that deal for me. It's not fair man, you can't."
"Sammy, listen to me, I should already be dead. There's no sense in both of us biting it tonight. You leave Cliff's Haven, you leave tonight and never come back, you hear me."
"Agreed," Oliver nodded and in one swift motion the Bucca pushed Dean out over the edge. A flash of lightening illuminated the night sky and Sam's scream of, "NOOOOOOO," could be heard over the loud claps of thunder.
Anger spurred Sam into motion and he used the temporary distraction Dean's fall had caused Oliver to reach out and grab the pendant that hung from around his neck. Sam gave the necklace a hard tug and felt the chain snap releasing the item into his hand.
The Bucca froze, confused at the change in the life force it felt controlling it. Oliver let out an enraged howl, raised the gun and made to pull the trigger. Faster than either man could have predicted the Bucca lunged at Oliver grabbed him, pinning his arms to his side and carried him to the cliff's edge tossing him over, sending him to his certain death.
Sam stood staring at the Bucca who turned her steely gray gaze on him. Slowly she walked over and stood in front him. She studied his face for a moment then spoke, "I'm sorry, young Sam for your loss. I can sense how much your brother meant to you. I wish you to know that it was never my desire to hurt any of those that I was forced to. I thank you for releasing me from that evil man's hold and have one favor to ask of you. I ask that you please break the pendant, once broken my essence will be able to move on and I will be able to finally find peace."
Sam laid the pendant down on the wet earth and shattered it beneath the heel of his boot. The Bucca let out one last howl and then whispered thank you as she faded away.
Tears filled Sam's and he ran to the cliff's edge and he fell to his knees when he reached it. He carefully leant his body over and peered downward hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother's body. His sorrow quickly turned to elation which quickly turned to fear when he saw that Dean had managed to grab onto an old tree root that had been poking out of the cliff's side.
Dean looked up when he heard Sam call out for him to hang on and managed to get an exasperated sigh out of his younger brother when he called back, "What else would I do?"
Sam ran back to Oliver's car, popped open that trunk and found a coil of rope that had been stashed there, 'No doubt to tie us up with if he needed to,' Sam thought. He took the rope from the trunk and hurriedly took it back to the edge. He called down to let Dean know that he had found some rope and was tossing it down. He told Dean to grab hold and hang on as tight as he could and that he would pull him up.
After a few minutes that seemed more like hours, Sam saw the top of his brother's head rise over the rim and began to pull with more earnest. After Dean was safely back on solid ground and had caught his breath the boys headed back to the hotel. Neither of them spoke as they packed their things into their car and got the hell out of town.
After driving for most of the night they found a motel with a vacancy a couple towns over. Sam went inside, got them a room. Once they had settled in for the night, each of them taking a hot shower to warm up, Dean decided to call it a night.
"Dean wait," Sam quietly said.
"What? Look Sam, I'm beat, hell I've been beat, can't this wait until tomorrow?"
"No, Dean, please," Sam plead, "I'm sorry that dad's gone. I really am. But, man I'm not sorry that you're here. Look, all I'm saying is that everything happens for a reason and your being here means something. Just because we don't know what it is, doesn't mean it's not out there. I wish you would stop and realize that the world needs you….I need you."
Not trusting himself to say to much without crying and holding true to his no chick-flick moments Dean replied, "Good night Sam," and then turned off the lights.
Sam let out a heavy sigh, he knew his brother wouldn't talk but he had to give a try. He crawled under his covers and replied, "Good night, Dean."