Patricia took a sip of the red wine in her glass and looked at her gathered friends. The four women had been friends for years, ever since they were children, and although their lives had taken them in different directions, they continued to stay connected, meeting every Saturday for a 'Girls' Night' and celebrating the sacred pagan rituals for protection and prosperity four times a year.
"You know why we're here, ladies," Patty said now, setting her glass on the coffee table, onto an old copy of 'Home & Garden' magazine, "Beltane is coming up and we need a sacrifice."
Denise- frumpy and bespectacled- frowned, "Do we really have to? I mean, this is getting out of hand. I'm surprised that the police haven't yet gotten suspicious."
Charlotte sighed, "We've been doing this for years, Denny, and you're only now squeamish about it?"
"Don't call me Denny," Denise complained, "You know I hate it when you do that."
"It's safe as long as we're careful about who we choose," Ingrid told Denise, always the logical one.
"Exactly," Patty leaned forward, "So, who is on our hit list this time?"
"I vote for that kid at the convenience store who's always trying to shortchange me on cigarettes," Charlotte spoke up.
"We've been through this," Ingrid told her, "That little prick has a family. They're bound to miss him if he goes missing."
"So?" Charlotte pouted, crossing her arms over her breasts, "It's not like they'll connect us with any crime. We're pillars of the community!"
The ladies chuckled and spent several minutes suggesting people around town they disliked as sacrifices.
"I… I might have someone," Denise spoke up, her cheeks very red from the wine; Patty had filled her glass five times since she had arrived.
Her friends turned to her, shocked she had volunteered.
"Amanda said there's a new boy in her class," Denise told them, "He's poor, she tells me- hand me down clothes, hair that's uncut- and no one likes him. His family is staying at the old Canary Motel out on Highway 9."
Ingrid grimaced. The motel was known for being very old, rundown and cheap, usually frequented by prostitutes, drug addicts and other dregs of society.
"He has a family though," Ingrid said and Denise nodded.
"Amanda says he has a brother and a father but they're apparently never around. The boy usually walks to the motel on his own. "
Patty's eyes lit up and she finished her wine in three long swallows.
"Ladies," she announced, grinning wolfishly, "I do believe we have our candidate for the Beltane sacrifice."
SPN
Sam slowly gathered his belongings when the bell that signaled the end of school sounded, having no desire to join his classmates jostling at the lockers outside in the hallway.
He and his family had only been in town for three days and already Sam hated it. He felt very self-conscious about everything that he'd previously not minded too much. He hated his hair, hated his hand-me-downs from Dean, and hated his backpack with its one broken strap. As soon as he'd stepped into the class, the other kids had focused only on how his clothes didn't quite fit, how shaggy his hair was, how shy he was, and ostracized him without asking any questions. Sam walked to school by himself, ate his lunch by himself, and walked home by himself. He was afraid to breathe a word of this to either his brother or father; they had other things to worry about and didn't need to worry about him. Besides, Sam knew they would soon leave town and he'd once again be the new kid in a new school.
Once the din in the hallway had quieted, Sam stood and left the classroom, going to his locker and opening it. He sighed as he dumped his books into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder by its one good strap.
Amanda Gilmore, a girl in his class, walked past as Sam closed his locker with one of her friends, hand over her mouth, giggling at him as they passed.
When the girl's back was turned Sam flipped her the bird and trudged forward, wondering if his brother and father would be home for dinner tonight.
Stepping into the bright sunlight and letting the school's double doors slam shut behind him, Sam closed his eyes for a moment and lifted his head, relishing the warmth of the light on face.
Maybe he wouldn't wait for Dean and their Dad to get back to eat. He might go to the little soda shop he passed by on his way back to the motel; it was always full of kids from the school and although Sam might not be popular, he could always find a seat in the back and pretend he was one of the cool kids.
Hitching his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, Sam trotted down the school steps and onto the sidewalk, feeling somewhat better about his evening.
SPN
"Damn it!" Dean swore and leaned back his chair.
"Keep your voice down," John chided from beside him, hunched forward as he scrolled through the computer's collection of microfilm, seeking out more instances of unusual deaths in the town's newspaper.
"This just doesn't make sense," Dean hissed, glaring at his father as though it was all John's fault.
"There's some kind of connection," the hunter grumbled, "I know there is."
Bodies had been appearing in the woods annually, sometimes once, sometimes four times a year. The victims had all been killed by different methods: some by strangulation, some by stabbing, some by drowning, some by burning but all had one thing in common: strange ritualistic symbols and paraphernalia had been found with them where they lay.
The first victim, found in late September of 1970, had been a janitor at the local high school, a man named Antonio Martinez. His body had been found sprawled over the remains of a large bonfire with dolls made of cornhusks scattered around him.
The latest victim was a young drug addict and prostitute, found floating in a local river, her body, oddly, smeared with oatmeal.
"Maybe whoever's doing this is just some nut job," Dean offered, "And there's no rhyme or reason to these murders."
John shook his head, "No, there's something… sinister about these… like they've been planned. I just can't figure out what."
Dean sighed and returned his gaze to the computer screen, hoping against hope the thing that connected all of these bizarre killings would jump out at him.
SPN
Sam felt no apprehension when the silver Lexus began to slow as it came towards him. Looking into its windows, the boy saw that the car was full of women.
They probably just wanted to ask for directions, Sam thought and stopped.
The car came to a halt and the driver, a well-dressed woman with blood-red lipstick, smiled at him.
"Hey there," she said, "Can you tell us how to get to the Canary Motel?"
Sam nodded, remaining on the sidewalk- the boulevard separating him from the car- and told the woman.
"I didn't catch that," the woman said, "Can you come here and tell me?"
Sam shook his head and repeated his directions in a louder voice. The woman's grin became somewhat stiff but she thanked him and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road. Sam shrugged and started off again, his stomach grumbling with hunger. He decided he would get a burger from the soda shop and a vanilla milkshake with the pocket change his brother gave him.
The revving of a car engine from behind warned Sam a fraction of a second before the silver Lexus hit him and sent him flying onto the sidewalk, disoriented and injured.
"Grab him! Quick!" a female voice snapped and Sam felt hands grab him roughly; yanking at his arms and pulling him roughly up.
"Get rid of the bag!" the same voice demanded and Sam groaned as a strong tug caused the backpack's remaining strap to snap. He heard a dull thud as the bag was thrown into the empty lot he'd been walking past.
He was dragged unceremoniously into the car that had hit him and shoved onto the floor on his belly. More hands grabbed at him- he felt long nails scratch his arms- and his wrists were bound behind his back.
"Let's get out of here, Patty!" a desperate voice called from somewhere above Sam and the young man allowed darkness to take him completely, blissfully leaving his pain and fear behind.
W
Sam's head throbbed in agony and he felt something wet and sticky dripping down the side of his face. He gasped and his ribs screamed in protest, causing him to groan.
"Good," a female voice, slightly muffled said from somewhere nearby, "I was afraid he'd be unconscious the whole time."
Sam slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring at the undersides of dozens of trees, their leaves wavy lazily in a warm breeze. Confused, he attempted to sit up, only to be stopped by ropes securing his arms and legs to a large, flat-topped stone like an altar.
Heart pounding with fear, mouth dry, Sam turned his head to the right and saw that the stone was stained a rusty red in places.
Oh God, he thought, trying to speak out loud but finding that a length of cloth had been shoved into his mouth and tied around the back of his head.
Lifting his head slightly, the boy saw that while he was not alone, the creatures with him did not appear to be human.
Feminine figures, clothed in dresses with floral patterns, surrounded him, their long hair hanging over their shoulders, strange animals heads peering at him curiously.
What do you want?! Sam thought at the creatures, though he was certain he knew exactly what was going to happen.
"The sun's nearly over the horizon," a creature with the head of a pig commented to the one who appeared to be the leader. She had long blonde hair and the head of a ram.
"Sisters," the ram-headed woman announced and the others approached Sam, standing on either side of him.
"We are gathered here to celebrate the sacred rite of Beltane and ask the gods to bless us with bountiful crops and livestock," the ram-headed woman announced. The other women nodded in agreement.
"But we do not come empty-handed," the ram-headed woman continued, "For we know that the gods do not give something for nothing."
"We ask that this sacrifice be enough to please the gods and see them smile upon us!"
Sam rolled his eyes upwards and saw that the ram-headed woman was holding a dagger in both hands.
All the strange animal-headed women began speaking now, chanting in a strange language Sam had never heard before, slowly at first and than faster and faster.
Sam watched in horror as the ram-headed woman's arms rose higher and higher, preparing to strike him with a deadly blow of the dagger.
Sam let out a sob, unable to hold in his fear, and closed his eyes. He was going to die and his Dad and brother would never know what had happened to him.
The boy jumped with shock as a single gunshot rang out and suddenly the screaming of women filled the quiet forest.
Eyes snapping open, Sam watched as the ram-headed creature staggered forward, hit the altar, dropped the dagger and slumped onto the stone beside him, dying.
Sam watched in shock as blood leaked out from underneath the ram's head mask the woman had been wearing.
"SAMMY!" a familiar voice called his name and he cried out against the gag in his mouth in response, "D'N!"
Then his brother was there, using a switchblade to cut through the ropes binding him to the rock, grabbing him in a tight embrace and hugging him.
Sam yanked the gag down around his neck and latched onto his brother as tightly as he could, crying in earnest from relief.
Dean held him out at arms length and looked him over, "Jesus, you're bleeding, are you okay?"
Sam nodded, sniffing, "I am now."
Dean helped Sam off the stone and the boy saw that the altar had been decorated with fresh flowers on the ground along its sides.
"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, feeling lightheaded.
"Chasing down the rest of those bitches, I expect," his brother replied.
"How did you find me?" Sam asked.
"We finally figured out what all the deaths had in common," Dean explained, hand gripping Sam's tightly, and guiding him through the woods, "The victims were all sacrificed to the old Celtic gods on certain festival days throughout the year."
"It took us almost all night," Dean continued, "We only got back to the motel early this morning and knew something was wrong when you weren't there. We retraced your route to school and Dad found your backpack."
"All the victims had been found near or in the woods that surround this town so all Dad and I had to do was search," Dean told him, "It wasn't too difficult to find the fancy car parked by one of the walking trails either."
Dean stopped to let Sam rest a minute.
"I didn't think we'd find you in time," he admitted, "But then we heard those bitches chanting and Dad and I just booked it."
"I think you found me just in time," Sam muttered, pulling the gag off his neck and over his head, tossing it onto the forest floor.
Dean nodded, not saying anything.
The brothers remained silent for the rest of the trek through the woods, not speaking again until they reached the Impala.
Dean climbed up onto the hood of the car and gave Sam a hand so that he could sit with his back against the windshield too.
Silently, they watched as the sun climbed above the tree line, waiting patiently for John to return.
Sam sighed and rested his head against Dean's shoulder, deciding he wouldn't trade his family for all the popularity in the world.
Author's Note:
Beltane is the angicized version of the ancient Gaelic holiday of May Day, celebrated on the first of May. The other holidays the Celts celebrated are Imbolc on February 1st, Lughnasadh on the first of August and Samhain, AKA Halloween, on October 31st.
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