Dark Horse Running
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Heavy horses – Jethro Tull
Night. Rain tumbled down the windshield and Sam snored beside him. Dean liked these times. There was a nostalgia in these moments.
Outside, the countryside ran feral and green, this was the country, this land had not been completely tamed. The mountains of North Carolina hadn't been completely deforested. The woods were in places broken by fields of cows and corn but you could still smell the earth. It was cold, damp and primal.
There were no other cars, just Dean and the head lights and the rhythm of the rain and the slapping of the wipers. The road was dirt. He didn't even need music, and he felt like the only person left on Earth and that was fine with him.
Something flashed across the road ahead of him. He had to slam on the breaks to stop before hitting it. As soon as it was noticed, it was gone, but a scream was ringing in his ear.
Sam started awake. "What?"
"I don't know." Dean threw the car into park and slipped out of the drivers seat. He investigated the area in front of the car, which was brightly illuminated by his headlights.
He felt more the heard Sam get out of the car behind him. He saw something on the ground and went to look. Hoof marks. Fresh and deep.
Again the night was punctuated by a scream and Dean and Sam took off as one in that direction.
They ran through the woods, being whipped by branches and vines with thorns.
Dean was in the lead with Sammy not far behind him, crashing through the brush like a bull. He alone might have been stealthier, but better to have his brother then not.
Dean intuited rather then consciously noticed the ground gently slope and something in his brain stopped him short. It was almost all for naught as Sam nearly crashed into his back.
Something was out there. Something dark and brackish. He inhaled and then took out his flashlight, shined it in front of him. It was a pool, black and deep, filled with vines and something that splashed beyond the reach of his light. Thunder pealed in a clear night sky. Both boys looked around, cringing from the sudden din.
There was something in the air here, something vaguely unnatural.
"Well, we found the Black Lagoon." Dean offered. He panned the flashlight around, something white and ominous floated on the top of the water.
"And that would be victim number three in the case that brought us here." Sam added.
Dean turned to him. "I'll call the locals." He said and turned toward the car.
Lights flashed blue and red and Dean stopped the EMT's as they wheeled the body past on a gurney. He lifted the blanket and looked at the face. It was a young man, in his 20's, The look on his face was one of frozen horror.
"This one have the hoof marks on it's back, too?" He asked.
"Yes, Agent Scott. Agent Young took some pictures. The Sheriff would like to talk to you." With that he pushed the gurney away.
Dean moved over to where Sam was talking to the local Sheriff, a portly man on the high side of middle age.
"I got to tell you, I'm baffled. It's the damnest thing." The sheriff said, scratching his head. "Third body this week. You guys ever handle something like this? I assume you guys see just about everything."
"You could definitely say that, Sheriff. This is my partner, Agent Scott." Sam introduced his brother.
"Nice to meet you, Agent. Well, I must confess I am glad to see you. I am ready to walk away from this one. Creepy, you know?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Do you have a lot of horses around here?"
The sheriff nodded. "And cows and chickens and Scots-Irishmen."
"Scots-Irishmen?" Dean asked.
"Yeah. I'm an O'Connell myself. Whole area was settled by a group of broken clans, families who lost their land in the wars, in the 1700's fleeing oppression or potato blight or Sum' thin'. You'll want to talk to the Riordans. They own 'bout everything around here worth having. And a warning, the old man is a bastard. Rest of 'em not much better. Used to power, ya know? The victim was a Riordan. Wills, son of the Laird. Another was a cousin. And the first was a stable man for 'em."
Both boys nodded.
"Sounds like someone is targeting the Riordan's," Sam offered.
"Yeah, except you'd find yourself hard pressed to throw a rock around here and not hit someone without a little Riordan in 'em."
"Small town?" Dean asked.
"Well, now that you mention… If I can help you let me know. Preferable when it ain't two in the morning."
"So?" Dean asked.
"Horse, Scotland, drowning. Sounds like a Kelpie to me."
Dean nodded. "I read about one in Dad's journal. Maybe we can find out how to kill this thing. I mean, we know what it is, and where it is, seems to me this one is a swing into the bleachers and the crowd goes wild."
Sam eyed Dean. "Has anything ever been that easy?" He asked.
"That is the difference between us, Sam, I am an optimist."
Sam nodded and followed his brother back to the car.
"Well, it says here all we have to do is shoot it with silver. Cold iron seems to work, too." Sam read from his Father's journal.
"Man, I love it when a plan comes together." Dean said, sitting on his bed.
"I guess." Sam offered.
"Stop it. Not everything is the end of the world."
"Kinda is for us. I mean, how often do cases run in front of our car?"
"My car." Dean corrected.
"Fine. I just have this feeling."
"Well, stop it. I say we go out, give this thing silver poison and maybe catch a movie."
"You know what, fine. Let's just get it over with. How are we going to lure it out?"
Dean pulled out his dad's journal. He flipped through it. "Says here they lurk on river and pond banks. And often come out when they smell fresh meat. You're fresh meat, Sam."
Sam shot his brother a look and picked up his gun. He moved to the door. "Seems weird not even having to put on the suit." and he disappeared out the door.
Sam was right, of course. Dean knew it in his gut. Nothing was ever easy. But if you let those things into your brain, you go nuts, and then you died. No, Dean told himself. Easy peasy, In and out.
The woods all looked alike at night, and the tiny sliver moon didn't offer light, but he found the location by the mile marker. He reminded himself that the comforting weight in his belt was a .45 full of silver bullets.
'That would stop a horse, right?' His brain asked, sarcastically.
"It says here in the journal that sometimes it looks like a woman, or a hairy man."
"That was before we left the hotel information." Dean offered. "OK, note to self, shoot anything that isn't a Winchester."
"Thanks." Sam returned. They slipped out of the car and moved into the forest.
"I didn't tell you, you're adopted." Dean offered with a grin.
"It wasn't funny when I was twelve and it isn't funny now." Sam returned with a frown.
The pond was still there, but no horse grazed it's putrid banks. Dean glanced to the left and Sam nodded, went that way, gun trained and ready to kill. Dean went right, cautious and ready.
"One and done." he whispered. Ahead of him, there was a rustling in the trees ahead of him. He froze, waited.
Suddenly the brush parted and out stepped a woman. She was brought up sharp by him standing in the woods, gun trained on her. She threw her hands in the air and let out a squeak.
"I, my car broke down, I was cutting through the woods!" She offered, terrified.
He shined the light in her face. Raven black hair flowed down her shoulders and her face was peaches and cream. Green eyes burned, wide and frightened. Her voice held a light southern accent. Parts of Dean were very against shooting her.
"Who are you?" He demanded.
"I'm, I'm Moira, Moira Campbell. I run the farm over the hill."
"Have you seen any horses here?" He asked.
She shook her head. "No, animals don't like the pool. I think it's poison."
He nodded. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his silver knife.
"Touch this and if you try to take it from me, I'll kill you on principle."
Timidly, she reached out as if she were reaching for a huge spider. Her fingers touched the silver blade and then drew back. He watched her for a long minute, then lowered the gun.
"You shouldn't be here." He said. He heard Sammy moving up behind him.
"I can see that. You seem like a superstitious man. You crazed hunters? Ain't anything in season.?" She gasped.
"Yes, actually we are, but this is business." He responded. Sam stepped in front of him. He flashed his badge.
"We're from the FBI investigating some murders in the area, do you come here often?" Sam asked.
"You mean, what's a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?" Sammy frowned, but a slight smile graced Dean's face.
"He means, have you seen anything strange here?" Dean asked. She smiled and stepped closer.
"Strange. Well, this land is just about as magical as you can get. Few miles down the road is a place where on certain May nights fairy fire burns on the mountain and no one can explain why. In the other direction, are two giant footprints in a large boulder that were here when the Cherokee settled. They say it's where a god jumped back into heaven. Folks keep cold iron on the window sills to keep out the fair folk and often find fairy crosses on their door steps if they leave cake. Every family has a member that won't stay in the grave and comes back to bump in the night and there are two city guys wandering around my property carrying guns and silver blades. That should be the list for right now. "
"Ok, that's a good list. But I'm looking for a water horse. You know, a Kelpie." He said and stepped closer to her.
She eyed him to see if he was serious. He held his breath to see if she'd laugh it off or not. Her face held serious. "That is the one thing I have not seen. But if there is one lurking about, you two should walk me home. I run like a deer and know these woods. Evens the odds of me not being the one who gets eaten." She grinned. He grinned back.
A few minutes later, Sam and Dean sat before a roaring fire with cups of excellent coffee in their hands.
"I have pie if you'd like." She offered. Sam watched Dean's eyebrows raise. "I'm the current state champion in the pecan division."
"Yes." Dean offered. "A thousand times, yes."
She went to the table and opened a ceramic cake dish and slid out a gorgeous pie. She cut him a large piece and slid it onto a blue china plate and dropped a fork on the edge.
"Here you go. Sam?"
"Ah, no thank you." He said.
"Sam only eats things that won't give him joy." Dean offered. He put a mouthful of the pie in his mouth and froze. It melted on his tongue with buttery sweetness. It was the best pecan pie he had ever eaten.
Sam watched as his brother was locked in bliss. "Dean, you ok?"
Dean nodded. "This...Is a thing of perfection."
She smiled. "Thanks. So since when does the FBI investigate Kelpies?"
"So you believe us?" Sam asked
She nodded.
"Why?" He almost scoffed but Dean cut him off with a glance of frozen daggers.
"I grew up with magical things. The people around here still argue over the Orange and Green. I was taught as a kid to stomp dust devils because they had little people in them. I've seen stuff..."
"What stuff?" Dean asked as he swallowed a bite of pie. He choked a little and Sammy bored his eyes into him. Dean coughed and swallowed.
"Guess that's what I get for eating and talking."
"Ghosts, strange movement in the woods. Let's say I believe and call it writ, shall we?"
"You have an awesome accent." Dean said. She smiled and looked out the window. The Impala sat in her driveway.
"And I see the government has traded in the boring sedans?" She said.
"Personal car." Dean said between bites of pie.
"OK, fine, your federal agents, who drive a sexy car." She said.
Dean looked at her. "You think Baby is sexy?" He asked.
"Absolutely. What is she, an eight cylinder? You run her cherry or have you done performance upgrades."
Dean choked again.
"No, No, she's cherry."
"Three on the tree?" She asked.
"Automatic." he responded, finishing the pie and putting down the plate.
"Oh, you disappoint me."
"Hey, Baby is perfect..."
"Almost. I'll introduce you to Alexander some time." She said.
"Alexander?" He looked up, intrigued.
"My dad always wanted a son. He was a real car guy, you know. So, if I wanted any time with him, I had to learn cars. My senior year we rebuilt Alexander, a 1968 Chevelle Super sport, ragtop, a real transmission, not that automatic crap..."
"Baby will take you any day of the week."
"Chevy on Chevy? It's not the car, it's the driver. Put up or shut up..." She grinned.
"You are on..."
"Dean. Off topic." Sam reminded, annoyance lacing his voice.
"He always a stick in the mud?" She asked.
"He has a stick somewhere, that's for sure." Dean groused.
"Look, let's go kill this Kelpie and then you to can finish this." Sam said and stood.
"You really think there's a Kelpie out there?" She asked. Dean stood and turned to her.
"OK, you know we aren't Agents, we're hunters and we go around killing monsters. This thing has killed three people and it needs to be put down. You stay here and keep the door locked and put up whatever Celtic hoo haws you have for protection. Get some silver. We'll be back soon and I'll take you to breakfast."
"Hurry yourself up and I might spring for breakfast in bed." She smiled and he blushed, just a tiny bit.
"I like my eggs scrambled and my bacon crispy." Dean said, a pleased smile on his face.
"Fine," Sam said.
"Now what's in your craw?" Dean responded.
"Beautiful, Pie champion, car chick… Awfully perfect, don't you think?"
"You think she's the Kelpie? She touched the silver."
"Ok, so, maybe she's a witch, or a demon or..."
"I didn't see anything witchy in there and I didn't smell any sulfur."
"It's too easy, Dean."
"Must we look this gift horse in the mouth?"
"Funny. Just be careful." Sam squinted.
"Once we kill this thing, you take the car and go back to the motel. I'm staying for a couple of days."
"OK," Sam said, finally.
"OK." Dean responded.
And yet, it was all too convenient, wasn't it. He pushed the thought aside and looked down the barrel of his gun for the Kelpie.
A fruitless three hours later and the sun touched the horizon. A thick fog lifted off the forest floor and the boys, tired and cold looked at one another.
"Where is it?" Sam asked.
Dean stepped in something soft and looked down. "Aw, gross! Is that?" Dean said. "Looks like it fed and went to sleep for the night." He uttered.
Sam came over and looked down. "Is that?"
"Someone's intestines? Yes, I think it is. Wills Riordan, I think." Dean made a disgusted face and lifted his foot, shaking the worst of the gore from his shoes. "Well, I want an iron brush shower." He offered.
"Look, go see Moira, I'll go into town and talk to the Riordan's and see if I can figure out if the family is being targets, then get some sleep. We can meet back here at dusk." Sam offered in defeat.
Dean nodded. He touched his brother's shoulder.
"Thanks Sam."
"Don't make me say 'Told you so'." Dean nodded and went back to Moira's.
Dean knocked on the door. It took her a moment, but she came and opened the door, wearing a green nightgown and robe looking disheveled with sleep.
"Sorry I woke you." He offered, not really sorry. She looked hot.
"I'm not." She said and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. He didn't resist, let her pull him into the living room and pushed his mouth hard against hers. A moment later she was in his arms and he was carrying her back to her bedroom.
She was good to her word. The eggs were fluffy and buttery, the bacon crisped to perfection.
He leaned back into the pillows and took a deep sip of coffee.
"I could definitely get used to this." He muttered.
"Did you say something? How's the food?" She asked, coming in from the shower toweling her hair. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.
"Perfect. What time is it?" he asked.
"Noon. I have to do some chores. You sleep. I'll wake you an hour before dusk. You said you had to meet Sammy?"
She put on jeans and a green chambray shirt, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
He lifted the tray from his lap and patted the bed. She came over and sat.
His hand snaked under her jawline and pulled her close, kissing her deeply and breathing out a rough gasp of air.
"You are so beautiful." He whispered.
"And you are a God in the sack." She responded.
"We do what we can." He said, smilingly vainly.
"Eat, I have to go." She pulled away, he reached for her, but she escaped him and walked to the door.
"Animals don't feed themselves, Dean."
"They eat grass, don't they. How hard can it be?" He returned.
"Sleep." She said and vanished out the door.
Dean rose and wrapped a sheet around him. He went to the bathroom and took a leak, washed his hands and face.
He went back into the comfortable bed and snuggled into the warm covers. They smelled of her, of sex, good food, all the best things. He leaned over the edge of the bed tray he'd set on the floor earlier and wolfed down his food then fell into a deep, contented sleep.
The library was small and entering it he didn't find much hope for finding anything. He approached the desk and a cheerful young librarian turned to face him. She smiled. He flashed his ID.
"What can I do for you?" She asked.
"I'm looking for books on local legends, Ghosts, specters, Kelpies."
She nodded and came around the counter.
"We have a small, private collection donated by the Riordans. Small, but… special."
That peaked his interest. He followed her.
She took him to a small elevator and stepped in, asked him to follow her. He did.
The doors closed and they both stood in uncomfortable silence for a too long time. Finally the elevator thumped to a stop and the doors opened on the basement.
It was a small room, very dark until the librarian stepped in and flipped on the light.
It was a bunker, concrete slab walls and floor, and ten alarmed oak and glass cases, like a museum. He stepped in. He could feel the coolness and dryness of climate control.
"Wow." He said.
"What where you looking for in particular?" She asked.
"Um, water spirits?"
She nodded and went to the back of the room. He wandered from case to case, looking at titles. Most of them he had access to through his own collection but rare and esoteric none the same. Riordan knew the difference. These were the real deal.
Sam found two titles he hadn't seen before. "Foeda Spiritum Aqua" and the medival text "A guide to Naviagate ye Lands Beyond the Veil and Prophecy" by Thomas Rhymer.
"The Thomas Rhymer?" He asked. "I thought he was fictional."
"I'm sure he likes it that way." She replied and he wasn't sure if she was joking.
She put on white gloves and tapped out a combination on the keypad on the Oak box and lifted the box from over the Latin book.
"Can you read this?" She asked as she took it over to a small table. Once it was safely on the table, she handed him some gloves of his own and stepped back.
"Yeah." He uttered as he reached for the tome.
"Oh, yeah, I guess Feddies go to law school." She smiled.
"Stanford." He said and opened the cover. She stood behind him pensively. He waited for a moment. "I might be a while." He said.
"They can cover for me." She replied. "Mr. Riordan doesn't like people alone with his collection.
He nodded. That was going to make it really hard to steal this book if need be.
Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, looked at his watch. It was about 4 o'clock and he felt really well rested. He'd slept deeply and dreamlessly. When he woke, she was bustling in the kitchen. H stood and drew on his jeans.
"Moira?" He called. He followed the noise to find her. She was taking another pie out of the oven.
"I figured you'd be heading out in a few days, so I'm making a couple of pies for you to take." She offered as he moved behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.
"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." He kissed her neck and she giggled.
"Don't go starting nothing, That new pie has to come out of the oven in a hour."
"You don't think I'd be done by then?" He asked and turned her around, pressed against her.
"Well, you haven't so far." She replied and leaned up and kissed him. Dean fell into the kiss and she returned with vigor and then squirmed out from between him and the counter. She took his hand a drew him after her.
"Come on, I want to show you something."
"This is the part of the movie, Dean, where she turns into a monster and tries to eat your heart or shows you her basement pool of blood for summoning pit monsters and makes you a ritual element," His mind said and he resisted the combat reflexes that threatened to make him grab his gun.
"OK," He said and followed her, tentatively.
She took him to a door and opened it, inside it was dark, dusty. She moved to the center of the room and pulled the chain on an old bare bulb, illuminating the room – a garage. In it's center, dirty but in pristine shape sat Alexander.
"I don't introduce him to just anyone." She said.
Dean's hands move out of their own volition and ran along the Competition Red paint, up the curve of the black rag top. He looked at her and she nodded. He moved to the hood and felt for the latch. The hood lifted and revealed the cleanest engine he'd ever seen. The manifold looked new and the block gleamed aluminum.
"It looks almost factory." Dean said.
"I take it for a steam once a year. I haven't had much cause to ride in it lately. I miss that, though, you know, the way the road feels under you, the engine throbbing."
"Just like sex." He said with a wry smile.
"Well, not quite." She moved over to him and took his hand. She pulled open the door and climbing into the back seat. She crooked her finger for him to join her. Dean looked up at the sky.
"Thank you!" he whispered and climbed in the back seat with her.
Sam watched the librarian out of the corner of his eyes. She kept a close, but discrete eye on him.
The book, what he's managed to decipher so far was a wealth of information on all manner of water spirits, the most comprehensive book he'd ever seen on the subject. He decided to come back later and steal it, nodded and closed it.
"Thank you." He said and gave her the gloves. "I need to meet my partner, but I might come back tomorrow. Maybe this afternoon. When do you close?"
"Five this time of year. And nine in the morning we'll open."
"I'll let myself out." He said as she picked up the book.
Out in the sunshine he jumped in the Impala and revved it to life.
It could almost formulate thoughts, but really, it was more impressions. Anger. That was the most important thing for it. It had been wronged and it hated. It hated all of them. It would kill them.
Outside the window it could smell things that registered in it's animal brain. Warm smells, spice like the fragrant trees, cold smells, sweet and primitive smells. Smells of the living. Beast smells.
The one he liked to watch was not alone. There was a male with her. Dean. He smelled dangerous. Rage flared in it, jealousy it had never felt before. It wanted him dead. He had touched her, a thing the Kelpie had been denied.
It stamped it's hoof and wandered back to the water. It called to her. She would come and then, one way or the other, Dean would die.
"Did you hear that?" Dean asked.
"No," She replied. "what did it sound like?"
"A horse," He said.
"Probably just paranoia." She told him.
He laid down on the couch and closed his eyes. A moment later, the relaxing aroma of baking pies lulled him into a deep doze.
Sam was shown into the Roirdan's well appointed sitting room. The house fair reeked of antebellum grace, curving staircases and large, imposing family pictures. He sat down and a black maid in a uniform offered him a drink. He shook his head.
"Mr. Riordan will be here in a moment." She said.
"Thank you." He said and sat.
To call this house uncomfortable would be an understatement. It seemed to be designed in some kind of Memori Mort decor, to remind you that you were mortal, but that the man you were about to meet might not be. He was your better. Be intimidated and keep your place.
On top of that, the place was laid out as if for Shiva. The mirrors were covered and black flowers adorned every table, meals was laid out on small plates, presumable for the dead, and candled burned.
Mr Riordan entered the room and came over to Sam, hand extended. Sam took it and shook back. He straightened his tie and slide his ID back in his pocket.
"So, to what do I own the honor of a visit from the FBI?" He asked.
"We're here investigating the murders of your family members." He offered.
"Well, that is kind of you. But quite unnecessary. You see, this is just a series of most unfortunate accidents."
Sam looked at the man. His carriage was not of a man grieving. He seemed more, angry. Very closed. Sam put that down to the fact that powerful men don't show pain.
"It's my job, actually. I just need to ask a few questions."
"My family is very private, Agent..."
"And my job is really clear. I sympathize, but I promise it will only take a few minutes." Something in the man made burn the Winchester stubbornness. He had to resist the urge to punch him in the face.
Riordan glowered at him.
"Alright. Can I have my girl get you something? We have a wake in the other room, I could have her bring you a plate."
The maid reappeared as if she had been out in the hall, listening.
Sam's dislike of this man turned into loathing. He shook his head. "I'm sure she has better things to do them wait on me." He said. "Besides, I ate in town." The maid vanished again. "So, did anyone want your son dead?"
"Anyone in my position has enemies. And Wills had a propensity for trouble. He and that stable man and Alistair, his cousin. Always into something. Things really went south when he fell in with that little filly over the hill."
"Beg pardon?"
"Wills had a penchant for… inappropriate liaisons. There's this little tart over the hill he was "In love with". Going to marry her. I forbid it, and that was the end of it."
"He did as you told him?"
"Never. If I said the sky was blue, Wills would insist it was green. No, that girl went missing. Turned up drown in that black water between our houses. Last year, I think. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but it was for the best. She was what we used to call a loose woman."
"And I supposed you know nothing about it?" Sam asked.
"Why agent are you suggesting I'm a murderer?" Riordan asked his voice coiled around his southern accent like a snake.
"Was she murdered? You said she disappeared."
"One assumes with the company she kept."
"But you have to admit her disappearance was fortuitous."
"Do you think me so stupid or secure in my position in this little town to implicate myself in a murder? No, I'm sure she drown, but you know, you never know when a friend is listening when you ask who will rid you of this damnable thorn in your side. And you should be careful, Agent. Things do get thorny around here..."
"Is that a threat?" Sam asked.
"No sir, a warning. Up in these hills are secrets people are willin' to kill to keep. Sadly, much of our population is uneducated. You ever see Deliverance? Be careful with whom you ask what..."
"Are you suggesting your son was killed by Hillbillies?"
"It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. You city folk don't know it, but here, we are intimately in tune with the order of things."
"Order?"
"Pecking order. You're a visitor. You don't have a dog in this hunt. Go home."
"What does that colorful metaphor mean?"
"It means this ain't your fishin' hole. Cut bait and go, boy."
"One more thing." Sam asked.
"You betcha." He responded.
"What was the name of the girl?"
"I can barely remember. She was a Campbell. Moira. Yes, that was her."
Sam stood suddenly.
"Thanks." he muttered and moved quickly to the door.
"Sure you won't take a plate? Mabel makes some fine Macaroni and cheese."
"No, thank you. I'll be in touch.
Dean woke, something that only his sub conscious heard had roused him from a deep sleep. He stood and listened, and moved to the door.
Barefooted he entered the dooryard, a couple of chickens scratched and eyed him. He moved in the direction of the weeping, his gun held down but the safety off.
Somewhere a woman was crying and Moira was no where in sight.
It was further away from the house then he thought. He had to walk half a mile, and there was the creek that drained a mile down the way into the black pool of the Kelpie.
Moira leaned next to it, furiously scrubbing something and crying hysterically.
"Why won't it come out?" She asked.
"Moira?" Dean called softly, clicked the safety back on and moved beside her. He pulled her into his arms, but she stared at him in horror.
"Dean, no, Dean," He pulled her close as she fought to get away. Finally she collapsed into his arms there by the side of the creek. "Dean, I am so sorry. I tried to get as far away as I could. I didn't think you'd be able to hear me."
"It's ok..."
"No, Dean, it's not. Dean!" She said sternly and shook him.
Behind them there was a great crashing through the bushes. Dean pushed Moira behind him and drew his gun again. Sam emerged, gun drawn, cocked.
"Move, Dean."
"Have you lost your mind?" Dean asked.
"No, let him." Moira stood and held out her arms for Sam to shoot. Dean panicked and jumped up. He threw himself between them.
"Sammy, stand down."
"Dean..." Moira turned him around. "He has to. I'm a banshee."
"What?" Dean asked. She nodded.
"I'm one of those monsters you kill. You heard me cry. Maybe if your brother kills me..."
"Banshee? Cry?" Hr said, his mind at once struggling and refusing to accept this knowledge.
"Your next." Sam said.
"Awesome." He said as it sank in.
"Just kill me already. Let me out of this nightmare.
"Have you killed anyone?" He asked.
She looked at him. "I don't know. If I cry at their window, the Kelpie kills them."
Sam furrowed his brow. "The Kelpie?"
She nodded.
"Well, you don't kill 'em, you warn 'em..." Dean said, struggling for justification.
"Dean..."
"If I shoot you it's over. Poof gone, the end. You go to a really terrible place and I can't have that. I need time to figure this out. OK, Sammy put down your gun, Moira, come with me, you too, Sam. We are going to talk." He snapped, holding her hard by the shoulders.
Sam looked at him strangely but nodded. Moira stood and headed for the house, Dean behind her and Sammy in the rear. As they started, Sammy leaned forward over Dean's shoulder.
"Told you so." He whispered, Dean flashed him a look.
"I will shoot you." Dean growled back.
Sam allowed himself a grin.
They sat in the dining room of Moira's house silently. She got up and grabbed the coffee pot and some cups, Sammy's body moved to keep her in front of him.
"I'm not going to turn into a hag and rip your throat out." She offered weakly.
"If I had a quarter for every time I've heard that." Dean quipped. He offered a half hearted smile.
"I talked to Riordan." Sam blurted suddenly to fill the silence.
"He's the real monster around here." Moira spat.
"I agree." Sam said and nodded. "This guy is the most disgusting excuse for a human I've ever met. He made my skin crawl."
"What the hell did he say to you, Sam?"
"Well, for starters he threatened Deliverance style death to those who asked too many questions, and he all but admitted to having Moira murdered. She was dating Wills. They were engaged."
Moira looked really sad. "Not exactly. Wills and I dated, but he was so beat up by his daddy. Bullies, mean – the both of them. We dated in High School. But he assumed after we graduated he had certain rights. It was easier to just not argue. Then I got pregnant. Something changed in Wills. He turned into a half decent person. His daddy found out and he and his boys came down here one night, dragged me out to the pond and drown me. Wills was there, and the other two. A couple of the other cousins and of course, Big daddy Patrick. He likes to touch his violence. I woke up a while later with this." She held up a bloody cloth. "No matter how much I wash it, it won't come clean." She offered. "If I can clean it, maybe I can move on. You know. Find that heaven. But for now, I find myself at the window of whomever is going to die next, balling my eyes out."
"So, last night? Was that part of the curse?" Dean asked.
"That was the best night I ever spent, in my whole existence. A preview of heaven. Thank you, Dean." She smiled sadly.
He licked his lips and looked down.
"So, what do we do?" Dean asked.
"I don't see we have a choice." Sam said.
"No, there has to be some kind of release spell." Dean insisted.
"It's ok, Dean. You have a life. I don't." Moira uttered sadly, finally.
"We don't know that your death will stop the Kelpie. It might just release it." Dean said.
"And I don't know why it let you hear me cry. You had nothing to do with the murder." Moira said. Moved over and rubbed his shoulders. He leaned into her.
"Maybe it's jealous?" Sam postulated.
"I am so sorry. Just end it!" She whispered again and closed her eyes to squeeze out tears.
Dean stood forcefully. "Stop! I am not sending you to Purgatory!"
"Guys. There is a book on water spirits in the library. Like, sixteenth century. I'm going to go back over to the library and try to get it for us."
"I'll go with..." Dean said and went for his coat.
"No, you need to stay here. Get ready and look after Moira."
"Sam,"
"Seriously. Stay. Something is really messed up in this town. And you have a clock ticking. Draw the circle and get ready for when I get back."
Dean nodded. Sam went to the Impala and headed into town.
"I guess they do roll up the streets at five." Sam muttered as he drove into the small town. He saw no one on the street, pulled around the corner from the library and hoofed it the rest of the way. He didn't see a soul.
At the back door he found a couple of cameras, easily avoidable and a poor excuse for a lock. Moments later, he was in the cool darkness of the library.
He thought about the elevator, but then realized stairs would be better, less chance of cameras. It took him a few minutes, but he found the stairwell and moments later was in the book room.
He walked over to the Oak cover and checked it, typed the code he had gleaned from the librarian earlier. The benefit of a criminal youth, the ability to tell what numbers are being hit on a keypad by the tones they make. He grabbed the book and slid it in his coat. On impulse, he tried the same numbers on the case of the Thomas Rhymer as well. It worked. He snagged the other book and left.
Moments later, he was out and walking back to the car. Again, too easy. A trend in this town.
Dean sat at the table, staring at his pie. Moira was clinking around in the kitchen.
Outside he heard the Impala and got up, went to the door. He opened it carefully and leaned out.
"Sammy, how'd it go?" He asked. Sam got out of the car and came over to him, handed him the book.
"Too easy."
Dean nodded.
In the kitchen, Sam opened the book to the section on Banshees. He read for a long few minutes.
"Anything?"
"Maybe. It says there that a spell that can release a Banshee without an exorcism. It's called "Pog An Ghra. It means freedom's kiss."
"So, like the sleeping beauty thing?" Dean asked and moved next to his brother. "I'm down with that."
"You think your a Prince Charming..?" Sam asked a quizzical look on his face.
"I'll do in a pinch." Dean offered.
"No, it seems more complicated. It's in Latin, dude. I need to translate it. And then get ingredients. Give me a few minutes."
"OK, Sam, but it's almost dark." Sam nodded.
"Push comes to shove, if the kelpie turns up for you. I'm going to kill it." Sam said.
"Let's try not to come to that, shall we."
"Dinner!" Moira called as she brought out plates of food. Dean grinned.
"Smells awesome."
"Yes. It does." Sam said and they both sat at the table.
The moon rose. It was thin and wane and offered precious little light. Sam was nose deep in the computer and Moira was rubbing Dean's feet on the couch. He leaned back, his face blank and annoyed.
"Does it bug you that you did it with a monster?" She asked.
"You'd think so, but no. You don't turn into anything gross, do you?" He asked.
"Other then a hormonal mess weeping at the edge of a creek."
Sam looked up. "Hormonal?"
She nodded.
"Weren't you pregnant when you died? What about now?" He asked.
"Not that I know of. I mean, I don't feel pregnant."
Sam flipped to the Kelpie page. He took some time and read.
"It says here that women who are pregnant when they died or have a babe in arms that die with them can give become Banshees. Then apparently, the infant gets trapped and seeks revenge on those who caused it's death. They are often animialistic in their vengeance. If the mother becomes a banshee, the child might feed off her and use her to draw victims, as it drew sustenance from her during life."
"So the spirit of your infant child is using you to call victims so it can whack them?" Dean asked.
"Looks like." Sam said. "There are also instructions for controlling and creating a Kelpie and a banshee..."
"Seriously?" Dead asked. "Why the hell would you want to create one?"
"Power." Moira said suddenly. She looked horrified. "Riordan wants his "order". He thinks fear and absolute authority is the way to that."
Dean put his arm around her and pulled her close.
"The release spell, Sammy?"
"Still working on it. A couple of more pages."
"Time is a wasting." Dean offered.
Outside the house a horse whinnyed. Dean and Sam both stood and took out their pistols. Moira came in from the kitchen.
"Stop. Let me try to reason with it." She said bravely.
"You think you can?" Dean asked.
"Let's see. I'm a Banshee, it's a Kelpie, you're a hunter. I think we might just be pegging the weirdo meter enough to catch a break in the odds."
"That's my girl." Dean smiled. "Knock 'em dead."
"Wish me luck." She said and took a deep breath, walked to the door and went out.
Sam looked out the window. Dean came over and looked out behind him. Outside, standing over Moira was a horse the size of a Percheron. It was black and beautiful. It snorted smoke and pawed the ground as she spoke to it. It let her reach up and pet it's face, scratch under it's chin.
Then, it caught sight of Dean in the window and went nuts. It reared and caught Moira, knocking her to the ground. In a panic, Dean went out and ran to her. The horse jumped and pawed at him as Sam came out. Sam fired twice but missed both times.
Dean reached out to cover his face as the horse reared at him again and felt the warm fur of the beasts chest touch his hand and...stuck!
He tried to pulled his hand away, but it didn't budge. The horse calmed and stood serenely in front of him. He looked up and he was eye to eye with it.
"Nice… baby,… horse...thing. Sam, a little help. I'm stuck to it." Dean spluttered. Something wild flared in the horses eye and suddenly it bolted, running with Dean dangling between it's crushing front legs.
"Whoa! I said Whoa, Damn it!" Dean yelled and struggled to get free. Pushing with the other hand just sealed him more closely to the beast. His legs flailed as it galloped and dragged in the dirt of the path. "I said WHOA!"
Suddenly, the horse stopped and the momentum flung him forward, into the black pond.
He went fully under, felt no ground beneath him. He came up spluttering in the frigid water, and saw the horse on the bank, eyeing him wildly.
"Ok, I'm gonna let that slide since I know your just a baby." He offered.
It cocked it's head and pawed the ground.
"Just friggin' great." he muttered as if inched closer to the water, a murderous look in it's eyes.
Moira recovered very quickly considering she was hit in the head with the hoof of a monster horse. Sam looked at her.
"You ok?" He asked.
"Don't get no worse then dead." She replied, and disappeared into the woods after the Kelpie. Sam ran in pursuit.
"Bad baby. No dessert for you." Dean offered as the horse edged ever closer to him.
"Dean." Moira called from the shore. "Your gun!"
He reached down and grabbed his gun and threw it to her. She put herself between Dean and the Kelpie.
"I know why your mad. You feel like no one wanted you." She began. The Kelpie stopped. "And I guess you're right. I mean, you were just another reminder that I was under Will's thumb. Another lever he had on me. But that wasn't your fault, was it? You're just a baby. My baby."
It stopped and turned to her.
"Don't worry. Momma's here." It took a tentative step forward.
"Isn't that touching." came a voice from the woods. Out stepped Riordan with a couple of thugs. Behind Sam, two more stepped out. They had guns drawn on the group.
"Whose this Douche?" Dean asked from the water. He started to swim out but one of the thugs shot into the water near him. He stopped.
"Riordan," Moira and Sam said together.
"If you weren't about to be fodder, I'd have someone kill you for that." Riordan said. "But, as it is, in a few minutes you will be nothing more then some intestines and fertilizer. But please, Moira, you were saying..."
"What the hell business is it of yours, Riordan?" She asked.
Sam glared at him, suddenly he understood it. "He wants to chain the Kelpie wears. With that he can control both of you."
"You are much smarter then you seem, Agent. And more useful then you know. I mean, when the murders started, I assume we'd get state police but an FBI agent?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked.
"Last part of the spell. I needed an agent of the Laird to seal the beast. With his blood. Oh, didn't you read that in the book I let you steal? We don't have lairds anymore, but really, they are just the government. And agents are just cops. I wonder if you will have more power then the locals."
"So you killed your own son to draw a sacrificial victim?" Sam said.
"I eliminated a failure. Even I have them. He had no place in the new order. But, I knew the kelpie couldn't pass up a chance to take a bite out of Daddy. Especially since he brought his new girlfriend down here. You know how kids are about step parents..."
The Kelpie looked around, it's eyes wild. Moirs shushed it and soothed it with her hands.
"Ó Beast go buachaill" Riordan said and suddenly it was a naked crying infant on the ground with a silver chain around it's neck. Moira went over to lift him into her arms.
"You can come out of the water, whomever you are." Riordan said.
Dean swam over to the bank. He struggled to dry land, his legs frozen. He lay there for a moment hoping the feeling would come back.
Moira was holding the baby now, it cooed in her arms and she took off her jacket and wrapped it up.
"Sweet." Riordan said as he approached her. He reached for the silver chain around the baby's neck.
"Moira, scream!" Dean yelled. She did and out came a hell splitting shriek. Riordan fell to the ground and the men behind him fled in terror.
The baby changed back into a horse and grabbed him with it's teeth. With a flick of it's massive head, it dropped him on it's back and no sooner had he landed there, he yelled.
"Help, I'm stuck!' He struggled to find release from the demon, but the Kelpie turned and ran away like the wind, Riordan's screams left as an echo behind them.
The horse returned to a few minutes later, without Riordan. It walked back to Moira and licked her face and she hugged it.
"How do we release a Kelpie? Dean asked as he tried to stand. His legs barely held him.
Sam flipped through the book. "Um. it says here we need to bury the body in consecrated ground."
"No offense, but that is all kinds of gross..." Dean said.
"And impossible. We would never find the body, if any of it's left.." Moira interjected.
"Like I said, all kinds of gross."
"Well, if the mountain won't come to Mohammad..." Sam said and reached in his pocket. He pulled out a flask of holy water.
"Good Sammy." Dean moved to him. "You sprinkle and I'll recite." Sam nodded and poured the holy water from his flask into the pond. As he did, the water began to turn clear.
"Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, bene + dictiónem tuam súpplices deprecámur potestas consecrandi tabernaculo tuo ad corpus capiebat Filii tui Domini nostri Iesu Christi ; Per Christum Dominum nostrum." The kelpie nuzzled Dean and licked his cheek. It turned into a pure white light and lifted skyward."OK, now me." Moira said.
"I brought the components." Sam offered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden blade and a red rose.
"Is that from the bush in front of my house?" She asked.
Sam looked busted and shrugged. She laughed. "I guess it doesn't matter."
"Um, yeah. Here, Dean. You have to eat a rose petal and cut your hand with a golden blade. The blood must touch the ground."
Dean looked at Moira. "I'm going to miss you."
"You find Alex a good home. I'm going to miss you, too. You made me happy, Dean for the first time in my life. You're a real gentleman and a hell of a lover."
"Ah, now you're just making me blush." He said. He hugged her and reached over and grabbed the rose from Sam.
"Dean..." Sam interrupted.
"Not now, Sammy." He leaned forward and kissed Moira on the cheek.
"Yeah, but..."
"I got this..." Dean said.
Sam threw up his hands. "Fine."
"You sure? We could spend another night..." He offered.
"I better go. But, when you get upstairs – raincheck?" She smiled.
"Definitely. Something to make me look forward to dying."
He pulled off a rose petal and ate it. "Not half bad for a vegetable." he offered and she laughed.
He cut his hand and let the blood drip onto the ground.
"OK, now what?"
"Um, you kiss her and say the magic words." Dean pulled her close into his arms.
"What are the magic words?"
"Well, Banshees are created by unrequited… love."
"The words, Sam."
Sam cleared his throat. "I love you." He said.
"Not a good time for the touchy feely, Sammy. What are the words?"
"No, I love you are the words." Dean nodded and stretched his jaw.
"Excuse me?" He said. "And you have to mean them."
Dean considered.
"You can just use the knife and be done with it." She offered, looking unhappy. "You've done so much, I won't ask for more..."
He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, passionately. He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "Be there. I love you." He said.
Her face took on a look of Ecstasy and she shimmered away into white light in his arms. He watched her until she was gone. He stepped back.
"Well, I guess I did." Dean said. For a moment he looked wistful. "I need a cheese burger and I think she left me a pie on the counter." Dean said walking off toward her house. His face was somber and his steps were heavy.
That woman she's got eyes that shine.
Like a pair of stolen polished dimes.
She asked to dance I said it's fine.
I'll see you in the morning time.
Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
Are you aware the shape I'm in?
My hands they shake, my head it spins.
Ah Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
Three words that became hard to say.
I and love and you.
I and Love and You, the Averitt Brothers.