AN: I have never been to Scotland nor do I have any Scottish speaking friends, so please don't burn me at the stake for my attempt at writing a Scottish accent or describing an ancient Scottish village.
Dean woke to the sound of flapping wings. It was probably just a dream. Never the less, he lay in the semi-dark of their motel room listening. All he heard was silence punctuated by the occasional truck out on the highway. Even though he didn't hear anything, he felt that uncomfortable pressure that he often had when something was in the room with him. He turned, sat up, and pulled his gun out from under his pillow, all in one, quick, fluid motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Sam was also awake and alert.
"Who are you?" Sam demanded.
Standing at the foot of their beds was a young man who appeared to be in his mid twenties. Looking like he was ready to hit the beach, he wore swim trunks, a Hawaiian shirt, and flip flops. His sandy blond hair looked wind blown and was kept out of his face by a pair of sun glasses pushed up onto his head. He certainly didn't look like the average run of the mill monster the Winchester's were accustomed to.
"I am known as Jaspar."
"Wait a minute." Dean said, not lowering his weapon. "Are you one of Cas's buddies?"
"If by 'Cas's buddy' you are referring to Castiel, I have not had occasion to speak with my brother face to face, but I have heard of his dealings here on Earth with you and others. "
"Great. Another angel. I hope you're not a dick like some of your siblings. We're not getting caught up in your little turf war, up there, so you can clear out." Dean uncocked his gun and lowered it, but kept it in hand, just in case.
"Turf war?" Jaspar looked confused for a moment. "Oh! You refer to the growing conflict between some of my brothers and sisters due to the extended absence of our Father." Dean gave an annoyed look at Sam and rolled his eyes. "I am not a soldier. My duties lie within Timeline Integrity."
"Timeline? I thought Heaven was outside of time as humanity understands it?" Sam asked.
"It is. We are. But humanity sees time in a linear fashion. You have a history. My duties entail making sure that once something happens, it stays that way. Once in a while, something happens that affects your timeline and we must repair the damage. Set it right."
Dean let his head fall back against the headboard with a thunk and sighed. Looking back at the angel in their room he asked, "Let me guess, some douche nozzle has figured out time travel and they're making a mess of things. How is this our problem?"
"Dean, it could have huge consequences." Sam said. "If someone goes back and, say, kills just the right person, it might mean penicillin is never discovered or even that dad is never born!"
"Exactly." Jaspar intoned.
"And if dad is never born..." Dean started to catch on.
"Then we are never born!" Sam finished.
Dean shook his head. "Wait a minute! I still don't see how this is our problem! I assume you angels have ways of dealing with this kind of thing. Send someone back and fix this!" Dean got up out of bed in a huff and Jaspar, in his heavenly wisdom, took a safe step back.
"Well it seems that, with the current state of affairs in heaven, more and more demons have taken it upon themselves to wreak havoc with the timeline. We have sent all available angels to deal with the situation but we are simply out of resources."
Dean clenched his jaw and looked squarely at Sam. "Of course." Sam could tell his brother was so done with angels pulling them into their crap.
"If it means anything, this case directly involves your family line. Your very existence is at risk." Jaspar stated.
"Wait. What exactly do you-" but before Sam could finish, Jaspar took two quick steps forward and touched his fingers to their foreheads. In a flash of light, the world as they knew it, was gone.
2
When they came to, they were in a small copse of trees at early dawn. The sky was just growing light to the east and the soft sounds of horses could be heard somewhere nearby. Sam was dressed only in the boxers he had gone to sleep in and Dean wasn't much better off in his boxer briefs and t-shirt.
"Did Jaspar ever mention what time period he was sending us back to?" Sam whispered, rubbing his arms against the chill of the morning.
"Don't think so but he said our 'family line' and that makes me think it wasn't yesterday. One thing's for sure, we're not dressed right for any time period. We're liable to get locked up for indecent exposure before we can figure anything out. What we need is intel. Stay low. "
Dean led Sam through the tall grass that was growing up in between the trees in a low crouch, toward the sound of horses. They soon came to the edge of the trees that bordered a fenced in pasture containing about five horses. On the far side was a rough hewn barn of sorts and spread out to either side of the barn were various low buildings, all with smoke gently drifting from their stone chimneys. Rising in the distance, beyond the small village, was a large stone building, about three stories tall, backed up against a lake.
"How about we split up? I'll go right, you left and see what we can find out; grab some clothes and meet back here?" Sam whispered and Dean nodded his ascent.
Dean watched his brother disappear into the grass and then made his way to the end of the fence. He thanked Jaspar for plunking them down in relative darkness because there was a large open area to be crossed to get to the back of the line of buildings. Taking a quick glance around, he made a break for it and ducked down behind a pile of split wood. He crept carefully around the pile of wood to the back of the building and crouched beneath a window. He could hear some movement within and froze, listening.
"You're up early, Maggie." He heard a rough male voice from just the other side of the window.
"Aye! Rose is coming today to start the cheese."
Dean thought they were speaking English, but the accent was so heavy it was difficult to discern. "Just like a friggin angel to dump us somewhere they don't even speak English!" He thought. He couldn't stay where the residents were already awake so he moved quietly on to the next hovel.
The buildings seemed to be a mix of stone, wood, and some sort of mortar. He stopped behind the next home and took a moment to really look around. No paved roads. No power lines. No lights, really, of any kind that he could see aside from the faint flickering glow coming from some of the buildings. How far back in time had they come and where, he wondered.
At the next building he heard quiet talking again but decided to stick around longer to listen and maybe figure out where they were.
"No like tha, ye wee bairn. Let me show ye again." Dean heard muffled sounds as whoever it was messed with something. "Like this, ye ken? ... Aye, show me then." More muffled sounds and a thump as something heavy dropped followed by a small voice, "Wait, wait." More silence and then the first booming voice, "Aye laddie! We'll make a fine Campbell outta ye yet!" There was a slap and Dean envisioned a father clapping a small son on the back. This was followed by quiet so Dean hurried on to the next home.
Sam slipped back into the woods at the end of the fence and skirted the small village and came out at the far end behind what he assumed was a small chapel. He let himself in the back to find a small kitchen area and fireplace. The room was empty but a small fire burned low, keeping it warm. He immediately noticed the lack of any modern convenience. Two doors led from there. To the left, was a tiny bedroom of sorts with a basin and pitcher sitting on a tiny table, a bed that wouldn't be long enough for him or his brother, and an assortment of clothing hanging from wooden pegs on the wall. He made quick work of finding something that fit as well as could be expected and then tried the other door. It led to a short hall. There were two doors, one on either side, and at the far end hung a large tapestry over the doorway. Ducking quickly down the hall, he pushed the edge of the tapestry just far enough to see the rough pews of the main sanctuary of the chapel beyond.
He heard muffled voices, then, and realized they were coming from one of the doors he had passed in the hall.
"It does no matter if she's Connor's only child, Jaime. She has been accused of witchcraft. We must hold her until the inspectors arrive."
"How long will that be, father? A day? A week?"
"Ye ken as I do. It depends on where they are when the word reaches 'em! Now go on home and mind your own family, Jaime. There's nought more ye can do here today."
Sam took that as his cue to clear out and head back to find Dean.
"What are you wearing?" Dean asked, looking over at his brother in long brown robes.
"The robes of a priest. Why? What are you wearing? Why are you hiding behind that tree?" Sam tried seeing around the trunk to his brother who kept scooting around. "Are you wearing..?
"A freaking skirt, Sam! Where'd you find the robes?"
"In a church." Sam answered as if his brother were daft.
"Wait. Did you see anyone?" Sam frowned.
"No. Why?"
"Dude! We're like in medieval Scotland, bro! No electricity, no running water, and friggin skirts!"
"Kilts." Sam corrected.
"Huh?"
"Not skirts, dude. They're called kilts."
"Yeah? Well if it looks like a duck, Sammy." Dean huffed. "And guess what else? I found out the family tie to us. It's the friggin Campbell's out there!" he waved his arm in the general direction of the village.
"Huh. Well I think I know what the demon is up to." Sam proceeded to relay to his brother what he had overheard at the church.
"So you think he's possessed that girl and made it look like witchcraft?" Dean rubbed his chin in thought. "We gotta be careful how we play this."
"Yeah or else we'll be the ones burning for being witches."
"Okay. The priest robe actually works in our favor. You said they're waiting for someone to come investigate?"
"Yeah." Sam smiled and nodded his head. He knew where Dean was going with this. "Yeah he did."
"Okay Father, you're here to investigate and I'm your muscle."
3
They circled back around so that they would come into town by way of the church. "We need a game plan." Sam said. "We can't go in there guns blazing. We can't even use the demon blade if there's any chance someone might see."
"That'll be easy, since I don't have the demon blade. Do you?"
"No. That's right. We'll have to go old school on this one."
Dean chuckled. "Real old school."
Sam looked at his brother sideways. "You better let me do all the talking."
"You? Why?" Dean sounded offended.
"Let's be real. You might think you can blend in in the old west, but this is practically medieval Scotland. They believe in the magic of the fae and Druids, but at the same time, will burn you at the stake if they think you're a witch."
"You don't need to lecture me, nerd. I know all that stuff!"
Sam scoffed. "Oh really? You gonna tell me you read all that somewhere?"
"No."
"Exactly."
"I've seen Outlander." Dean defended himself.
Sam barked out a surprised laugh. "You've seen Outlander? Really. You."
"Well, only a couple episodes. I heard there was nudity."
"Ah. I should have known. Probably the only reason you stuck with Game of Thrones, but that doesn't really equal book knowledge, Dean. We need to be real careful here. Everything we do; everything we say, can permanently altar the future in ways we could never guess."
"Okay, okay! Whatever! It's your show. How do you wanna play this? I mean half the ways we gank things would look like witchcraft to these people!"
"Yeah, we'll need to do everything in secret, as much as possible." Sam stopped walking and scrunched up his face in thought. "Okay, I think I got it." As they walked, Sam shared his idea with Dean who seemed to approve.
When they arrived at the church, they made some introductions and explained to the Father what they needed. The Father set them up in a meeting room that had a fireplace at one end and a table at the other. Dean snagged the rug from the kitchen floor when no one was looking and spread it on the floor in front of the table.
Since he was supposedly someone who had taken a vow of silence, (Sam's way of not letting Dean talk), Dean smacked Sam on the arm and pointed down at the rug. Sam came around the table and looked down at it. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that will work nicely." he mumbled. He fetched a bit of charred wood from the fireplace, lifted the rug and drew out a demon trap on the floor. Then, so as not to smudge his work, he very carefully replaced the rug over top. They would just have to keep rechecking its integrity throughout their work.
While Sam worked on the trap, Dean got a nice fire going in the fireplace. He was beginning to enjoy the freedom of the kilt, not that he could ever tell his brother that, but it got a bit drafty.
"Ok. You ready?" Sam asked. Dean gave him a nod. The good Father was supposed to be rounding up family and friends of the accused. They would interrogate each privately to start. At least, that's what they had told the Father.
Dean opened the door to find a line of nervous looking people in the hall. He motioned for the first to come in and stand on the rug while Sam made himself look busy reading through some papers he had found. Dean shut the door and stood inside it as guard. Sam looked up and smiled and asked the gentleman if he would rather go sit by the fire. If he could leave the trap and go to the fireplace, then Sam asked a few basic questions and let him go.
They continued in this manner until lunch time, when the Father brought them a bite to eat. He had a young boy with him, helping to carry things. "Lad, go and fetch the water." He went to set a tray with some bread and hunks of meat on it on the table when he noticed Sam sitting over by the fire. "Let me bring this over there." he said, rethinking putting it on the table. He turned and started toward the fire and then stopped suddenly, dumping their lunch onto the floor.
Sam glanced up in interest and then looked past the Father to Dean who had an inquiring eyebrow raised. Dean quietly shut the door behind him. "Father?"
The priest looked confused and tried to step forward again. He stopped short as if he'd run into an invisible wall.
"Gotcha." Sam said. The Father's eyes flicked to all black. "Pretty ingenious hiding spot. Time to go, though. You chose the wrong time to come cause trouble in."
"Who are you? There are no hunters here. Now."
Dean walked up from behind and splashed a little holy water in the demon's face, eliciting a hiss. "Surprise, dickwad." Dean whispered. Dean bent over and flipped back the edge of the rug to reveal the devil's trap. "Finish this so we can go home, Sammy."
"Exorcizamus te Onmis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."
The brothers, so caught up in what they were doing, didn't notice the young boy come into the room carrying a pitcher of water. The boy wasn't aware, at first, that anything was amiss, so focused as he was on setting the pitcher on the table without spilling.
"...Ergo, draco maledicte. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus audi nos." At the final words, the priest threw his head back and a thick, swirling mass of black smoke poured out of his mouth, swirled around the inside of the devil's trap for a moment and then sank through the floor boards.
The priest fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air. Dean helped the Father to his feet and he and Sam led him to a seat by the fire.
"Thank ye! Thank ye! What did ye do?"
"We can teach you." Sam said. Just then, Dean started smacking his arm. "What?" Dean was staring at the other side of the room, blindly hitting him. Sam was dismayed to see the young boy, pitcher forgotten and jaw on the floor, staring at them in return.
The Father looked up at the boy, motioning him over. The boy's eyes were big as saucers and he was hesitant to move. "Come Niall. I'll not harm ye." He slowly made his way over and the Father spoke quietly with him. The boy eventually nodded his head, gave a last cautious look at Sam and Dean, then left. "He'll not be a problem."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks but hoped for the best. What else could they do? They spent the rest of the day interviewing the rest of the small village, just to be safe, but found no more demons. The boy, Niall, popped in now and then with more food or drink, staying longer each time. Watching.
At the end of the day, the Father offered them a room at his home for lodging, insisting it was never safe to travel at night. The guys ate a hearty meal and were asleep soon after. Even though Dean complained about the thin mattress having more bugs than the swamps in Louisiana, he wasted no time hogging the lion's share of the bed from his brother.
4
They woke and were heading out of town before most anyone else had risen. They had just come to the spot where Dean had hidden their guns when they heard snapping twigs behind them. They crouched low in the tall grass and bushes and waited.
"I followed ye. Come out. I need help."
It was Niall. "What kind of help would you need from us?" Dean asked.
"It's me mum. She won't go on."
Dean looked at Sam, confused. "Can you show us?" Sam asked. Niall gave a quick nod and took off at a run, deeper into the woods. About ten minutes later, they came to a clearing in the trees. There was a small creek flowing through, at a steady pace, on the far side and a jumble of rocks at the edge.
"Here. She meets me here and won't go on." The guys looked around questioningly when off, beyond the pile of rocks, a woman appeared. "At the start, it was nice. She's getting bad."
"Yeah. I get it." Dean said, slowly putting himself between Niall and the ghost of his mother.
"When did she pass, Niall?" Sam asked.
"Two moons past. We burned the body, as is our way."
Sam frowned in thought. "Hurry it up Sam. She's getting feisty." Dean murmured, no longer trying to fit in with the times and more concerned for their safety.
"Did she give you something before she passed?" Niall shook his head no and Sam frowned.
Dean called over his shoulder. "Maybe he took something." Dean then let out a yell as the spirit tossed him across the clearing.
"Niall," Sam crouched in front of the boy, "perhaps you took a keepsake. A bracelet, maybe, to help you remember her?" Niall looked up at Dean as he was thrown up against a tree. He gave a quick nod of his head and ran to the pile of rocks.
As he was digging under a rock, Dean landed in the creek with a mighty splash. He stood, spluttering and spitting water. "Any time now, Sammy!"
Niall jumped up and held out a leather cord with a feather hanging from it. "Her necklace." The boy was close to tears. "I took it from her box of things after she died. I didn't mean to! I just wanted something to... To... "
Sam knelt down, taking the necklace from him. "This is not your fault, Niall. Do you understand me?" The boy nodded. "I need fire." Sam said to himself.
"Sammy!" Dean called. He was currently being pulled back into the creek. As he stumbled backwards, down the bank and back into the water, he threw something in Sam's direction.
Sam put his hands up on reflex and caught the lighter. Not sparing more than a second to wonder where Dean had been hiding it, he quickly flicked the top and lit the leather cord on fire.
Niall's eyes grew huge at the apparent magic of the lighter and even bigger at the sight of his mother disappearing in a rush of flames. "How? How did you do that?"
Sam took a few minutes to talk to Niall while Dean did his best to dry off. The boy then led them back through the woods to where he had found them. "Thank ye. Truly."
"No problem, Niall. Remember what I told you and be good." Sam said.
Dean handed him his gun and tucked his own into the back waistband of his kilt. "We good?" Sam nodded. "Then let's get out of here." He looked up into the trees above them and Niall's eyes followed in rapt attention. "Yo Jasper! You got your ears on? Take us back to indoor plumbing!"
- Three weeks later -
"Ah ha! Found it! Dean!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up from the table. Dean just about fell off the couch at the sudden noise.
"Damn it, Sammy! Warn a guy before you go off all half cocked!"
"Pause your Outlander because I found it!" Sam came over with an ancient looking scrap of paper in his hands. Dean reluctantly picked up his remote and paused the show.
"What? What is so friggin important you gotta interrupt my me time?"
Sam rolled his eyes and sat down. "You remember a few weeks ago? Going back to Scotland?"
"How could I not? Kilts should really come back into fashion. The freedom of -"
"Yeah. Yeah! Ok. Anyway. We were amongst a clan of Campbell's and Jaspar had said the demon was messing with our family line right?"
Dean closed his eyes in long suffering acceptance of the oncoming history lesson. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Ok, well I got curious."
"Big surprise there." Dean murmured.
Ignoring the jab, Sam continued. "I've done a ton of digging and found this." He held out the paper to his brother who made no move to take it and just raised his eyebrows and gave him a look that clearly said 'yeah, and?'. Sam sighed. "I've been trying to find out how the Campbell's got into hunting. Samuel made it sound like it had been in the family for a while. So, after poking around, I found this. It isn't written by the first Campbell hunter, but it makes mention of the first. Here, listen:
" ...taught to me by Niall, himself. First of us all. Savior of Clan Duncan from the wolf men at the burning of Nokwall."
Sam looked at Dean expectantly. "You get it?"
"Wait. Are you saying, that that's saying that... "
"I think that young boy Niall may have been the first Campbell hunter!" They were both quiet for a moment.
"Shit." Dean finally said.
Sam shook his head. "Yeah. Shit."