Summary: While investigating a violent haunting of a small town in Massachusetts, the Winchester boys suddenly become tangled in a horrific tale centuries old. Both men must try to unravel the mystery surrounding a witch that lived in the year 1689, a time in American history that was full of overwhelming chaos and terrible deceit. However, while Sam uses the stories and legends of the witch in the present to determine what really occurred all those years ago, Dean finds himself smack in the middle of the story. Dragged into a past festering with deception, lies, and twisted stories, he struggles to survive as he must escape a fate he could never have imagined.
Timeline: Sometime in season 2.
Rating: T
Warnings: Bad language, violence.
A/N: I got inspired after reading "The Crucible" by Arthur Miller
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"That old black magic has me in its spell,
That old black magic that you weave so well;
Icy fingers up and down my spine,
The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine"
- Johnny Mercer
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AMPLIFY
Prologue
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Rocklester, Massachusetts
1689
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"Are you sure it's safe?"
The flickering flames of the fire scarcely lit the room, shadows playing along the corners and threatening to consume the embers.
"It is never safe."
The house was completely empty besides the two, only the sounds of night and the crackling of the fireplace competing against their voices in the silence that surrounded them.
"We have to stop them."
A tiny laugh escaped her throat as she lowered her eyes from the man's steady gaze. Peering at the wooden table top, a hopeless smile slowly turned up the edges of her mouth.
"They cannot be stopped."
The man let out an irritated sigh and she lifted her eyes once more, focusing on his face; frowning lips, furrowed eyebrows. He appeared angry, frustrated, and she reached out a hand to calm him. His expression softened slightly and his lips parted with surprise as her fingers touched his wrist.
The sound of hooves suddenly drifted to their ears. The man and woman sat still for a moment, all else forgotten and bodies tense as they listened intently. A short time passed in which they hoped the horses would come and go, but this wish quickly disappeared as the hoof beats steadily grew in volume, the animals and their riders clearly approaching fast. There was a sudden scraping noise as both chairs were pushed back across the wooden floor and the two made their way to the front window, drawing back the lanky curtains and peering out into the night. A winding dirt trail vanished into the darkness of the trees surrounding the house, but several small lights could be seen within the forest, dancing along in the inky blackness. Both knew who carried these lanterns and torches.
"We must escape into the shelter of the woods." She turned from the window and ran to the other side of the room where she retrieved a long, white candle from a cabinet drawer. Lighting it from the fireplace, she hurriedly slipped through the entrance that lead to the kitchen. "Quickly! Help me gather everything," she commanded as she disappeared.
The man followed her into the kitchen, the candle she held in her shaking hands the only source of light as she placed it on the table in the middle of the room. "Fay, we don't have time. They'll be here any second."
"But we must!" Fay replied, hysteria causing her words to sound shrill. She was kneeling on the wooden floor now, peeling away a wool rug to reveal a trapdoor beneath. "It is our only chance."
The approaching horses were much nearer now, the angry shouts of men perceivable amongst the din of the trotting animals. In only a short matter of time they would reach the house.
"No," the man stated sternly as he pulled her up. "There's no time. We have to get out of here now."
"But they will kill us if we do not-"
"They'll kill us if we stay," the man argued as he led her out of the room. By now the lights outside were clearly distinguishable between the trees, illuminating the owners who held them and the horses that carried them. However, the man did not care to look as he pulled Fay behind him, heading towards the backdoor. As they made their way outside they could hear the horses coming to a stop at the front of the house. A man's heated voice called out into the night.
"Fay Crane!" bellowed the familiar tone. "Upon accusation we are here to attain you, by order of the Holy Church."
"It is Morgan Jenkins," Fay whispered as the two ran to the edge of the woods as quietly as possible, straining their eyes and wary of dry twigs on the ground that could snap beneath their feet. More voices entered the night as the group of men stormed into the house and the sound of crashing furniture echoed from the wooden building.
"I hate that guy," muttered Fay's companion as they pushed further into the woods, the sounds growing slightly fainter. Branches scraped their arms and pulled at their clothing as they brushed past twigs and bushes. Fallen leaves and nettles crunched beneath their feet as they ran, not knowing exactly where they were headed but sure of what they were escaping. The voices behind them suddenly grew alarmingly louder.
"They slipped out the back!"
"They escaped into the woods!"
"Run faster," the man huffed as he grabbed Fay's wrist, drawing her forward. Hoof beats could be heard again as the two dodged tree trunks, the moonlight shining through the branches the only light guiding their path. Eager yelps echoed behind them and Fay looked over her shoulder to see lights dangling from several riders' hands as they rode on horseback. The trotting group manoeuvred through the underbrush, gaining distance fast.
"There they are!" A voice rang out, summoning an angry chord of yells.
Fay's breathing quickened into gasps as she followed her companion, trying desperately to keep up. "They- They have seen us!" she wheezed, stumbling on a thick root protruding from the ground and falling roughly to her hands and knees.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist as she was urgently lifted upwards. "Just keep running." Her companion's voice was gruff and his face determined as he pulled her along. Her feet seemed to barely touch the ground as she flew through the woods blindly, but suddenly she really was flying. Her entire body was airborne as she found herself tumbling down a steep hill, air whistling by her ears and wind whipping at her face. A tremendous feeling rushed through her body but it only lasted a moment before twigs and leaves were breaking beneath her as she hit the ground and rolled a few more meters onto level land.
Her companion came to a crashing halt close beside her, and a groan escaped his lips. "Son of a-"
"I-I think I have broken my ankle," Fay claimed, her voice sharp with pain. The man sat up quickly and looked towards her in the darkness. She could barely make out his figure due to the lack of moonlight now shining from the sky. He scuffled over to her, glancing in the direction of the hill as confused shouts reached their ears.
"Where did they go?" She heard a man ask, and another answer, "Down the hill!"
Reaching out his hands, he touched Fay's leg, moving his fingertips to find her injured ankle. "This one?" he asked, gently squeezing her calf.
She inhaled sharply. "Yes."
"Sorry," he apologized, realizing he had caused her pain. "Can you walk at all?" The men on horseback seemed to have stopped at the top of the hill, but she estimated that it would only be a few minutes before they found a way down the steep incline.
"I can try," Fay answered as she allowed the man to slip an arm under her own. She tried to stand but a stabbing pain encased her ankle and she fell heavily against her companion's support. She let out a gasp before stating, "I cannot make it."
Setting her gently back on the ground, the man crouched beside her. "They'll be coming soon. If you can't walk I'll carry you."
He moved to pick her up but she stopped him. "No, you will never be able to escape with me slowing you down. You have to run. Leave me here." He did not move. "Go now before they come!"
"Fay, I'm not leaving you here." The man's voice was firm and defiant as he refused to abandon her. "They'll kill you."
"They will surely kill us both if you stay! At least this way one of us will escape." She tried to make him see reason but he only looked up towards the rise again. The men seemed to be going around the hill, judging by the sound of receding hoof beats.
"You're right," the man stated, not looking at her, and she felt a rush of relief. "There's no point in getting us both killed."
"Then go now," she commanded. "They may still come after you once they have found me."
He looked down and locked eyes with her. "I'm not letting them take you."
The relief Fay had felt was gone as swiftly as it had come. "But you must!" she argued, her voice growing louder with panic. "There is no other way. I cannot walk and they are sure to find me."
"Not if they find me first," he announced confidently. "I'll tell them you ran ahead. All you have to do is lie here and stay quiet until they leave and make your way to a safe place in the morning. Reverend Garnish will help you. I can try to get a message to him. It's the best chance you have."
"No!" Fay cried in outrage. The group of men could be seen approaching from the left, their lights bouncing far away but approaching closer. "You will not do any such thing! Go! Run! Leave me be!"
"I'm sorry Fay," he whispered, and then he was standing up and turning away. Fay was too stunned to call after him as he began to walk towards the lights and their owners. Instead, a tear slid from between her eyelashes as she closed her eyes and remained silent.
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The man walked quickly through the underbrush, voices of the group before him growing louder with incredible speed. As soon as he could make out their faces he began to run - horizontally so as not to give away the immediate direction he had come from. The sound of his boots crashing through dry leaves quickly alerted the men and he heard their shouts as he ran faster.
After only a few seconds the horses were right behind him, the surrounding trees alit with the luminosity of the swinging lanterns and bouncing torches. "Get him!" shouted Morgan Jenkins from atop his giant black horse.
The man's chest heaved as he pumped his legs faster, but he was no match for the speed of a horse, and he glanced nervously to his side where a grey steed was running alongside him. As he looked up he saw Joshua Keens grinning down at him, and then felt the pain of a large object connecting with the back of his skull.
Tumbling to the ground, the man found himself scrambling to his knees in a daze, reaching behind his head to feel warm blood on his fingertips, a previous wound having been torn open. As his vision cleared he realized he was surrounded by the group of men, being the center of a small, tight circle. He watched as Morgan Jenkins climbed down from his horse and entered the space, standing before him with a sly smirk on his face.
"Well, well, well," he sang, stroking his black beard. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before we discovered the truth about you."
The man stared up at Jenkins, eyes burning with hatred. "Oh yah?" he sneered. "And what exactly is the truth?"
"Well, I am sure you already know," Jenkins chuckled. "You have been accused of witchcraft, Dean Winchester."
To Be Continued