Episode 4 - Quivers down my backbone
*Soundtrack *
Guess Who – Shakin' all over
Irma Thomas – Back Water Blues
Doors – Riders on the storm
Johnny Cash - The Man Comes Around
Beausoleil – Zydeco Gris Gris
Cajun Playboys – Colinda
Daigle/Elkins & Cajun Gold – Loup Garou Two Step
Willy de Ville – My one Desire (Vampire's Lullaby)
Harry Connick jr. – Take her to the Mardi Gras
Green Day – Give me Novocaine
Guns 'n' Roses – Sympathy for the Devil
Divinyls – I touch myself
Sam Carr's Delta Jukes - Crawling King Snake
Chapter 1
"When it rains five days and the skies turn dark as night
When it rains five days and the skies turn dark as night
Then trouble's takin' place in the lowlands at night
I woke up this mornin', can't even get out of my door
I woke up this mornin', can't even get out of my door
There's been enough trouble to make a poor girl wonder where she want to go"
The Impala was humming its low, growly song.
They were speeding through the night, way down South.
Dean cast a sideways glance at the sleeping Catherine on the seat next to him. She didn't look very relaxed, but it was better that she slept. Dean wasn't sure he wanted to be talking just now. So, yeah, better that she slept.
After her declaration in Bobby's living room, all hell had broken loose. Bobby was yelling, Sam was yelling, Dean was trying to get a word in edgewise - only Cat had been quiet.
Bobby was livid, saying he would rather knock Dean out and lock him in the basement than let him go off on some stupid-as-fuck suicide mission.
He also had a few choice words to say about witches and how they were not to be trusted and so on and so forth.
Sam didn't seem to have a problem with the whole idea of going to New Orleans on some kind of quest, he merely objected verbosely to being left behind.
Dean found himself in the very unusual role of being the voice of reason.
Shit, now that was a first.
He tried to plead with both.
He was telling Bobby that he was perfectly capable of deciding himself what he did and didn't want to do and that basically, given the situation, he didn't have much of a choice, anyway.
Then he was telling Sammy that there was absolutely no sense in taking him along, when obviously it was himself, Dean, who had to do something and when the whole gig was potentially dangerous, too.
It was totally hopeless!
He guessed one had to gather some experience in that kind of thing before one could be effective. He, having no experience whatsoever, though, failed miserably.
They just cast him strange glances and ignored him.
Catherine had said nothing and had just gotten whiter by the minute, until she had slid off the chair in a faint.
Dean had caught her just before her head could hit the floor.
He had then simply gathered her in his arms and had left the room.
Instead of turning right to the stairs, though, he had gone left, straight out of the front door and had kept walking until he had reached the Impala.
He had made Cat as comfortable as he could, then he had gone back inside, grabbed the duffel with his gear and had gone out again.
Bobby and Sammy had not even heard him, they were still arguing in the living room.
Catherine was awake when he got into the car. She hadn't said a word, just held out her hand.
He took it and pressed a kiss in the palm of her hand.
He had draped his jacket over her and then they were off.
Bobby was raging. What had the boy been thinking, taking off without even a goodbye? That damned witch had done something to him. Some sort of spell.
Must've.
Dean wasn't like that. Okay, he had been chasing skirts since he was maybe 12 years old, but none of them had ever made a dent.
So what the fuck was going on with that soft-spoken Southern bitch?
Bobby was livid when he considered that she'd almost had him fooled.
Almost.
Sam had gone quiet.
He was thinking hard, especially about the past life issue. He hadn't told Bobby about that yet and he had a feeling he shouldn't, either. It was a sketchy thing at best. But Sam felt sure in his gut that whatever Dean was supposed to do was somehow connected to that.
"Bobby, listen to me, please. I really don't think Catherine has any nefarious plans for Dean. I also don't think she bewitched him. Not literally, I mean. They're into each other, nothing more, nothing less. But I am very sure we should gear up and follow them. They might need backup."
Bobby looked like he wanted another inning of the shouting game, but then gave in. On the road, hell bent for leather after them was a better place to be than in his home in a rage.
They were ready to go in under 15 minutes.
"Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
And actor out on loan
Riders on the storm"
The road just wouldn't end. It went on and on, just a stretch of indistinct grey in the darker grey of the night.
Dean was tired.
The grey shapes started to melt into one another.
He blinked to clear his vision. Didn't do squat. He needed to catch some sleep, but that was out of the question.
He couldn't risk closing his eyes, letting his guard down. Who knew what her bastard of a father was capable of?
"We need to stop somewhere, so you can sleep," said Catherine quietly.
"I'm good." Dean said tersely.
"No you're not." Catherine put her hand on his thigh. She could feel how tired he was. She guessed he didn't want to stop because he worried about them getting caught. She would need to find a safe place for them.
Cat closed her eyes and concentrated until she found the familiar gentle hum of power that spoke of a witches' grove nearby.
"There's a small road coming up to the right, just after the next bend. Turn into that."
"I. Said. I. Am. Good." Dean said, sounding furious.
"It's safe there, I promise. At least for a few hours."
"Safe? How?"
" It's an old witches' grove, a place where witches used to gather because of the magic that flows there. I can keep us safe there for a while, I swear."
No need to tell him that the dancing lights she saw in her mind when she found the grove were the entirely wrong colour and that hiding them there would take a lot out of her because of that.
The whole history of the different types of magic would have to wait until all this was over.
Catherine was an elemental witch and her element was fire.
Green lights meant that the grove was a well of elemental magic, too, but its element was the earth. Catherine wouldn't be able to tap this power in the same way than if it had been her element, but she felt sure that even damaged as her powers were, she would be able to hide them there.
"It's there, see?"
Dean made a small noise that managed to convey assent to making the turn as well as objections to the general idea at the same time. Fascinating.
"How far?" he asked after a while.
"Just a little bit further. Yes, right there."
They stopped.
Catherine asked. "Do you have a blanket?"
"Yeah. Stay in the car while I grab the stuff."
Dean opened the trunk. He rummaged through the weapons compartment, grabbed a gun, a knife, some salt and holy water and bundled it all up with two blankets and an old army sleeping bag that had belonged to his dad.
He walked around the car to Catherine.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"Sure."
They set off into the woods.
They walked into the grove. It was small and there was a large stone altar in the middle of it.
Dean put the sleeping bag on the floor and they settled down on it. He handed Cat a blanket.
"Try to sleep now, Dean, please." She said to him in a low voice.
Dean lay down. He looked at her intently. He wasn't so sure she could really do what she had promised in the car. She seemed strained and tired.
Catherine bent down and kissed Dean lightly. "I CAN keep us safe, Dean." She whispered. "Now sleep, please."
Dean closed his eyes.
Chapter 2
He was standing in a garden.
The air was fragrant with the scent of summer flowers. He could hear birds singing in the bushes.
A small, red-haired girl in a velvet dress was running around after a blue ball. A tall man with strange lavender eyes was watching her with a smile on his face.
"Look, Rafe, look how high I can throw the ball!" shouted the little girl gleefully and tossed the ball high in the air.
"Well done, my sweet, well done!" said the man.
A hand was tugging on his sleeve. There was somewhere he should rather be. But it was so nice here, so peaceful…
Dean woke up with a start. Catherine was tugging on his arm.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
The sun was already up and the grove was softly lit.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but we should be off now."
Cat looked tired. He didn't like the strained look on her face.
He put his hand on her cheek and ran his thumb lightly under her eye.
"You look so tired, kitten." He said softly. Cat leaned her forehead against his and put her good arm around him.
"Just hold me for a moment and I'll be fine, Dean."
His lips found hers.
The grove hummed excitedly at the flare of power this caused.
Catherine was amazed.
They hadn't even started the ritual yet and still there it was, raw power flowing between them.
Cat deepened the kiss.
It felt wonderful. Dean was holding her tight and it felt as if they really had a chance to win, as if the world was far away and totally insignificant, as if they were home.
Dean trailed a line of kisses down the side of her neck to her collarbone, untucking her shirt from her pants. He ran his hand up and down her bare back. He felt her scars, but they were just part of who she was, nothing more and nothing less.
It felt so good to be touched.
Cat moaned softly.
Dean stopped abruptly and whispered: "Did I hurt you?"
"No. Please don't stop, Dean, please."
She slid her good arm out of her t-shirt and started tugging on Dean's shirt, too.
He helped her out of the other arm of her tee, then got rid of his own shirt. It was surprisingly hard to concentrate on such a simple task with Cat's hand playing over his chest.
He gently settled her down on the sleeping bag and looked at her questioningly.
She smiled up at him and nodded in encouragement.
Yes. There.
Sam thought that if Bobby would launch into just one more round of ranting and raving, he'd hit him with the map of Louisiana he was holding.
They were hurtling down Highway 55 just South of Memphis already and still Bobby was at it.
"Okay, Bobby, stop the car."
"Why, what's going on?"
"Just stop the goddamn car, will ya?"
Bobby drove off the tarmac and stopped.
"Now what?"
"Now you will listen to me, just for once. "
Sam sounded very angry.
"Catherine is a witch. Accept it. She is not the bad guy in this. Accept it. Dean's crazy about her. Just freakin' accept it. Can you do that?"
"No." said Bobby forcefully.
"Okay, then I will get out of this car now and I will not get back inside it. I am not going to listen to your rants any longer. I just can't, because just this once, Bobby, just this once, you are WRONG. "
"Sam, it's just…"
"No, Bobby, no. It is not. Please, just try to be objective here. Catherine could've killed us ten times over, if she had wanted that. She could've sold our asses to demons, could've stabbed us in our sleep and hell, maybe she even could've turned us into toads, I got no idea if that's how that magic stuff of hers works. But she didn't."
Bobby was silent.
"She broke Dean out of the funny farm and she kept him safe. She didn't object him calling you for help. Had she wanted to harm him, don't you think she'd rather have kept him from his friends?"
Boy had a point, he grudgingly admitted.
"Plus, she's actually good for him, Bobby. You never saw that, but Dean had these scary episodes, where he's just…. He'd just be gone completely. He wouldn't react to anything and I could just see he was seeing all the bad stuff again in his mind. Catherine got him out of that, every single time."
"Can we keep driving now, then?" Bobby asked. "Wouldn't wanna be late when the shit hits the fan. They'll be needing all the help they can get."
Sam smiled.
He guessed this was as close as Bobby would get to ever admitting he had been wrong.
Dean was bundling up the gear.
Catherine was standing at the stone altar.
When she turned to go, Dean saw she had placed a small blue flower on the slab of stone.
She smiled at him.
"We must leave now."
"I think you said that before." Dean grinned.
"Yes, I think we must have gotten distracted somehow." Cat took his free hand in hers and tugged. "Come on now."
As Dean turned the Impala back onto the highway, he asked: "Should I worry about the delay?"
"No. The grove kept us safe then." was Cat's slightly enigmatic answer.
"Cat, before we get to New Orleans, I think I should know a little more about your magic. Might help, you know."
"Takes a while."
"Not going anywhere."
Catherine smiled, settled down a little more comfortably and launched into the explanation.
She told Dean that there were different levels of magic.
On the more basic level were talents like healing, control over animal or plants, musical magic and so on. These talents were limited to certain uses, but still had a lot of power within their limits.
The next level were the elementals - Fire, Water, Air and Earth magic. These powers were not tied to a certain purpose or use. Each of them had a distinct quality that made certain uses easier than others. People with Earth magic, for example, would be able to work with everything tied to their element, from growing plants to causing rock slides and creating earthquakes .
The final and most powerful level were the leyline witches. Leylines are lines of raw, magical power that formed a grid all over the planet. Leyline witches were able to tap into this power and control it, too.
All of this, as Catherine had explained to Dean before, could be controlled by saying the right words, or rather putting the right command into whatever words seemed useful. But the power behind the word came from a source within the witch, not from the spell word or some residual demon magic, like it did with the spellmongers the Hunters had encountered before.
Dean was trying to take it all in.
"What kind of a witch is your father?" he asked at last.
"A Water elemental. Or at least, that's what he was. I don't know if that sick, perverted thing he is now even has a name."
They passed Jackson. Not far now.
Dean clutched the wheel, trying to ignore the cold knot in his stomach.
"The hairs on your arm will stand up.
At the terror in each sip and in each sup.
For you partake of that last offered cup,
Or disappear into the potter's ground.
When the man comes around.
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers.
One hundred million angels singin'.
Multitudes are marching to the big kettle drum.
Voices callin', voices cryin'.
Some are born an' some are dyin'.
It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come."
Chapter 3
"Beaux et belles fait ses projets,
Maman fait le grand GRIS GRIS,
Loin, loin dans le cyprière noir,
Tout que'q'un crèole crie: ZYDECO!"
Catherine was giving terse commands, left, right, straight ahead from the moment they left the Pontchartrain Expressway and went deeper into New Orleans.
Dean quickly lost his sense of direction completely.
She directed them to the Lower Garden District, into a small side street. In front of a bright orange house – next to a small graveyard, no less - she made him stop the car.
"Who lives here?" Dean asked.
"My old friend Remy. I'm hoping we can count on his help."
"Why would he help against someone as powerful as your father?"
"Because I have known him all my life and because Remy, in his own way, is also a good man, like you."
Dean snorted, but she had already gotten out of the car and probably hadn't heard.
Catherine walked up a few steps to the door and knocked.
The man who answered the door gave the words 'old friend' a whole new world of meaning – and one that Dean did not much care for.
Tall, dark and handsome wore jeans and not much else besides.
"Catherine! OH MY GOD!"
The man pulled her into a tight embrace that did funny things to Dean's hands. Suddenly and without him apparently having to do anything, they were balled into tight fists.
He cleared his throat audibly and Cat promptly broke off the embrace.
"Remy, this is Dean. Mon amant. L'homme qui j'ai cherchez."
"Yeah, I'm Dean. I don't speak French and I don't like guys I don't know pawing my woman." Dean smiled a nasty smile at Remy. "Understood?"
"Understood."
"Can we come in, Remy?" Cat asked, smiling inwardly about this little testosterone display.
"Sure thing, chere. Standing out there in plain sight is not a good idea."
They sat down in the tiny living room.
Remy went to the kitchen and came back with three bottles of beer.
Dean thought that maybe, just maybe that guy wasn't such a total fuck-up after all.
"We need to get to the house, Remy." Catherine's voice sounded odd as she said it.
"Thought you were going to say that. You sure there is no other way, ma petite?"
"No. You know there isn't. We checked, remember?"
Remy ran his hand through his hair.
"Okay, but we better go to Maman Fontaine first."
"I don't know if we should draw her into this, Remy!"
"Yes, but I do. Maman will know what to do. She'll have something up her sleeves to help me sneak you into the lion's den."
Remy led them to a battered old truck and then they were off.
Remy drove down St. Charles Avenue.
"Hey, where's the streetcars?" asked Dean in obvious disappointment.
"They're not going down St, Charles anymore since Katrina," Catherine said quietly.
"Oh."
They came to the French Quarter. Remy found a parking space on the corner of Ursulines and Rue Royal. They walked from there.
Maman Fontaine was a big African-American woman in her fifties. She had tears in her eyes when she hugged Catherine.
Then she turned to Dean, put her hand on his cheek and said: "Well, look who we have here. The long lost lover, the man she should've married several lifetimes ago. You not planning on getting' yourself killed again, are you, honey?"
Dean swallowed.
"Not right now, ma'am."
"Ah, don't you ma'am me, sweetie-pie. Call me Maman, like all my wayward children do." With that, she cast a stern look at Remy and a soft one at Cat.
"Maman, we need…"
"I know, I know, chere. You need to get to the mansion without that … monster… noticing anything. Well, let's see what Maman can do for you."
She led them to the basement.
"Voodoo?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Well, petit choux, what is wrong with that in your opinion?"
"Nothing, ma'… Maman." Dean said quickly.
She went here and there, taking up things, discarding them again, picking something else up, until she had gathered a handful of ingredients.
Then she lit a few candles and began some sort of ritual.
After a few minutes, she handed Catherine and Dean a small bag each.
"Keep them with you at all times. Dean, you come with me now for a minute."
Dean followed her next door.
Maman Fontaine handed him an old dagger.
"This here dagger has a silver blade, with some special markings on it. It's very powerful in its own way. You tuck that away safely and use it only if you are sure you really need it. You hear me, darlin'?"
Dean nodded.
"It's going to be a touch and go thing, Dean, I can feel it. The only way for you to get through it unharmed is if you trust Catherine absolutely. Can you do that, boy?"
She took his chin in her hands so he couldn't look away.
"Yes."
"You sure?" Maman Fontaine looked hard into Dean's eyes. "You absolutely sure, baby?"
"Yes."
She seemed satisfied with what she saw in his eyes. She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.
"Bless you, Dean."
On the threshold of the house, she said: "I wish you Godspeed, children – and a whole band of angels guarding your steps. When it's all over, you be sure to come back and see me."
They nodded.
"Allons danser, Colinda,
pendant qu'ta mere est pas la
pour faire facher les vielles femmes.
C'est pas tout l'monde peut danser
toutes les vieilles valses du vieux temp,
pendant qu'ta mere est pas la,
allons danser, Colinda"
Bobby stopped the car in front of a fast food joint. The speakers on the parking lot were blaring some Cajun dance tune.
"Burger?"
"Burger."
"Coke?"
"Coke."
Bobby went inside.
Sam was considering their options.
How should they find Dean and Catherine? Where could they be? He wracked his brain, trying to remember if Catherine had mentioned any friends or places, but couldn't recall a thing.
Would Catherine walk straight into the lion's den and go to her father's house? And where could that be?
He saw a phone booth on the edge of the parking lot. Worth a try.
Sam got back in the car.
He hadn't really believed they would get an address for the du Lac family from a phonebook, but there it was. Sometimes, things could really be that simple.
He checked the map.
Bobby came back with a slightly greasy bag and two soft drinks.
"I got the address."
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Nope, was in the phonebook, bold as brass."
"Far from here?"
"'Bout 15 miles."
"Okay, let's go then."
"Down on the bayous of Louisian'
you gonna hear the story of the moon dog man
the Cajuns say he's a loup garou
but listen good he's gonna say to you
loup garou, I'm the moon dog man"
Remy's old truck came to a halt in what looked like the middle of nowhere. The air was humid and it was still hot.
"Take care, Catherine, will you?" said Remy quietly.
"I don't think taking care is much of an option anymore now," said Catherine and smiled a sad smile.
"At least try, ma mie." said Remy.
They got out of the truck and Dean nodded a goodbye.
"The house is that way, but we want to go to a special place in the grounds. Come along, this way."
Catherine led him through bushes and undergrowth until they came to a clearing.
She stopped.
There was a kind of a gazebo in the middle of the clearing.
"Zat where we're headed?" asked Dean.
Catherine nodded and shuddered.
"J'ai froid." She said.
"What?"
"Sorry, Dean. I only said that I'm cold."
Dean shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her.
"What is going to happen now?" he asked, scanning their surroundings.
"Now we finish what we started in 1582."
Chapter 4
"So… you and this Remy… ?"
"Dean, do you REALLY think that now's the time for that?"
"Well, I don't like loose ends and given that you keep telling me so cheerfully that we are probably both not going to live through this… you and this Remy?"
"We grew up together."
"Uh-huh."
"He was my first boyfriend. I was fourteen, he was sixteen. Can we go now?"
"How far did that go, back then? First base, second base? All the way?"
"All the way, Dean. Are you content now?"
"As long as we are clear that this particular piece of the past stays past, I'm happy."
Catherine turned to him and just gave him a hard kiss for an answer.
"Now I'm happy. See, wasn't so hard, was it?" gasped Dean.
"Can we go now?"
"Yeeees."
As they entered the gazebo, Catherine grew more tense.
Inside the gazebo, there was a small fountain. Cat walked over and touch a knob on its ornamental rim. A trapdoor in the floor swung open.
"Ah, why can't ANYTHING ever be above ground, in a nice, sunny spot with loads of people around?" groaned Dean.
They climbed down the steep and narrow stairwell, then walked along a dark and equally narrow passage.
The passage suddenly widened into a cave in the center of which there was a pond. There were a few torches on the wall. Dean lit a couple of them.
Catherine knelt next to the pond and motioned Dean to do the same.
"I need your hand." Catherine whispered.
He held it out to her. Cat took a knife from her pocket and cut across her own palm first, then his.
She made a fist and let the blood dribble into the pool. Dean did the same.
She took his bloody hand in hers and clasped it tightly.
"Through night and day, through dark and light, we come today to pledge before you. As one body and one soul, one heart and one mind, we come today to pledge before you. ARISE!"
The pond started to glow and a ghostly white figure appeared.
"Ah, you two again. I had almost given up on you." said the apparition. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." said Catherine huskily.
The apparition looked at Dean.
"Yes." he said.
"Good."
The cave went pitch black suddenly.
Catherine was gone.
Dean groped around frantically.
It was impossible, he had held her hand just a second ago, she couldn't be gone!
He heard the apparition's voice close to his ear.
"You will get her back. But only after you have proven your worth, Dean Winchester, son of Mary, grandson of Deanna, great-grandson of Elizabeth. Only after you have proven yourself a true heir to your lineage. Will you do that?"
"Yes."
"Certainly?"
"I will do anything to get Cat back, ANYTHING."
"Good. You are no stranger to pain, Dean Winchester. But this will be worse than anything you ever experienced. Worse than hell itself. Will you do it regardless?"
"YES. I already told you, now get on with it!"
The disembodied voice chuckled.
"Your verve and enthusiasm are laudable. But this is not a game you run, Dean Winchester. You will be run by it. There will be no controlling it. Will you still do it?"
"Yes. Please, I need Cat back. Please?"
"Ah, since you're asking so nicely…."
Dean screamed.
It was too much, too much pain.
He fell, screaming. There was no bottom, he just fell on and on, screaming all the way.
Sam said: "Bobby, stop the car."
"What is it?"
"There are tire marks coming to a stop in that stretch of dirt over there and boot prints that look like they could be from Dean's boots."
"Good eyes, kid."
Sam wasn't so sure. It had almost looked like a beam of moonlight hit that patch just to show these clues to him.
They got out of the car and tried to follow the footprints into the undergrowth.
Dean stopped screaming.
It took all his willpower to stop.
Oh God, the pain!
The pain still wouldn't stop, but he just had to get past that somehow.
He needed to find Cat.
He crawled through the darkness.
There was nothing to help him find his way, so how should he find her?
He grew more and more frantic. Searching, grasping, crawling around in circles, starting over again and again and again.
The worse it got, the clearer it became to him that he was going insane.
After a while, he just said there, rocking himself.
But when he got to the point of no return, he somehow managed to pull back from the beckoning darkness. He didn't know where he found the strength to do it, but he suddenly grew calm.
He COULD find Cat. Just not with his usual senses.
He concentrated on Cat. Her voice, her laughter, her smell, the way her skin felt, the way her eyes could suddenly light up and make his world a bright and beautiful place.
He could feel her.
All he had to do was reach out his hands and…
Bobby and Sam reached a clearing with a gazebo in the middle.
The trail led towards it and they followed.
In the gazebo, a trap door was open.
Bobby looked at Sam.
"Down?"
"Guess so."
Dean held Catherine in his arms. The room was much too bright. Catherine was cold, so cold. It couldn't be.
Dean was falling apart.
She couldn't be dead. He had done it, he had found her. How could she be dead now?
The apparition's familiar voice whispered in his ear: "What would you give to have her live?"
"Anything. My life, my sanity, anything!"
"Your brother and your friend Bobby, too?"
Dean gasped. "No."
"No? You would walk through the rest of your life without Catherine?"
"I can't sacrifice people I love for her. She would not want to be with me at that price."
"You think your life will be very short, anyway, after this, don't you, Dean? As a Hunter, it is easier to die than to stay alive, isn't it?"
He swallowed, but said nothing.
"But I can promise you this: You will live a very long life, Dean Winchester. And you will be alone. You will never love again and there won't be another chance to be with her, not even if you wait another 400 years."
Dean was sobbing soundlessly. Oh God, make this stop.
"No." he croaked. "She loves me because she thinks I'm a good man. I'm a better man than this, I have to be. I won't kill my brother and I won't kill my one friend in all the world, Bobby. It's my pain, I will have to bear it. And you're wrong, I won't live long, not without her. I'll just die – no monster will have to kill me and I won't have to finish it, either. I'll just die without her."
Catherine suddenly drew a shuddering breath which sounded like a muffled scream.
"Very well now, Dean Winchester, son of Mary, grandson of Deanna, great-grandson of Elizabeth. It seems you have passed. Let the mingling of your blood be the witness of your lifebond. Let the terror in the darkness be the witness of your lifebond. Let the beating of your hearts be the witness of your lifebond."
Dean just kept sitting there, Catherine in his arms.
She was very pale, he thought.
Much too pale.
He cleared his throat, but couldn't speak. He felt as if all his strength had been leeched from him.
He held her tighter, trying to show her what he couldn't say.
Make her feel what he felt for her.
"I don't dream of all the pleasures
Heaven holds for me
With a hand up above my head
A sword of fire and soft white wings
I'll tell you what it is I need
To turn this spark into a fire
Come close and hold me tighter still
It's you my one desire"
"DEAN! Dean!" Sam ran towards them.
Dean sat on the floor, holding Catherine in his arms. They weren't moving.
He shook his brother. Dean slowly turned his head and looked at Sam. He looked terrible.
"Are you okay, Dean?" asked Sam, voice shaking.
Dean nodded and closed his eyes wearily.
"Catherine?" She didn't even open her eyes. She was very pale and her lips had a bluish cast to them.
Bobby knelt down next to Sam.
"There's nobody here. We can get them out one by one. Stairs are gonna be brutal, but we can do it."
It took them forever, but they managed to get Catherine and Dean to the car.
Bobby looked at Sam as they got in.
"Where to now?"
"Got no idea."
Suddenly, Dean's cell phone rang.
The sound came from Dean's jacket, which Catherine was wearing. Sam put his hand inside his brother's jacket and answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Who is this?" came a female voice with a strong Southern drawl.
"Sam."
"Ah, honey, are your brother and Catherine okay? They been gone a long time now and I was getting worried."
"They live." Sam said tersely. "Who are you?"
"Okay. You still close to that there mansion? If you are, get your butt down here to my place. You're not safe there. Just start heading in the general direction of the Quarter and ask Catherine the way to Maman Fontaine's house when she comes to."
Chapter 5
Dean held Catherine on his lap.
Nothing else mattered, but her warm body against his.
He could feel her heartbeat. It was steady and strong.
They were driving through the hot night.
Streetlights cast moving flickers of light over them.
Dean rolled the window down.
The air felt like it had hot hands that caressed his face and it smelled of night-blooming jasmine.
"Sam, where the hell are we?" growled Bobby suddenly.
"Hang on… there's a street sign. Thoupa…Toucha… no, wait, Tchoupitoulas St.?"
"Wrong part of town." said Catherine in a weak voice.
Dean hugged her tighter.
"Just try to follow the road. After a long, LONG while, we'll pass under the Pontchartrain Expressway. Then go on for a couple more blocks until you cross Canal St. and I'll give you directions after that. How on earth could you get to Tchoupitoulas from my parents' house?"
Bobby mumbled something unintelligible which sounded a tad defensive.
Dean was stroking Cat's back softly.
She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying his closeness.
They were in a quiet world of their own, far removed from the sounds of the street, or the noise of Bobby's old car.
"Give her
the Mississippi river
the Mississippi river
and a Voodoo and the Vieux Carré.
She'll fret
walking on the banquette
walking on the banquette
is too refined for her
her feet
need to meet Canal Street
and only on Canal Street
will she want to dance."
The sun was already rising when they pulled up in front of Maman Fontaine's house.
Remy was leaning against a lamp post in front of the house, scanning the street.
"Come on in and be quick about it."
He opened the back door of Bobby's car and helped Dean and Catherine get out.
"Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I think so," said Dean, casting a worried glance at Cat.
"I'll manage." she said.
Maman Fontaine stood at the door, making clucking noises.
"Hurry up, Remy Chauvin, get them in here, we haven't got all day."
"Âllo, Maman." said Cat with a little smile.
"Sweetie. You look terrible. And poor Dean, look at him. Ah, baby, you have been put through the wringer there, haven't you?"
Maman embraced them both at the same time.
"But now you will get some rest. You will go straight up to the bedroom and sleep, you hear me?"
She shooed them up the stairs.
Remy led Bobby and Sam into the living room.
"Coffee?"
"Would be great, thanks."
Remy nodded and went to the kitchen.
Maman Fontaine came down the stairs with a couple of blankets in her arms.
"Can you two manage sleeping here on the sofa and the recliner?"
"Ma'am, thanks for the offer, but we're not going to sleep. Far as we know, that bastard is still looking for Catherine. We can sleep some other day." Bobby growled.
"Well, Mr. Singer, I can assure you that you are very safe in my house. And Catherine's father is fortunately trying to find his daughter near YOUR home right now, not mine. So there. Take a blanket and quit arguing with Maman Fontaine, you will lose anyhow, darling."
Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but Maman shushed him with a curt wave of her hand.
Sam chuckled.
Now that was a sight to see.
"Out of body and out of mind
Kiss the demons out of my dreams
I get the funny feeling, that's alright
Jimmy says it's better than here,
I'll tell you why"
Catherine sat on the bed, feeling weary to her bones.
Dean was in the bathroom taking a shower.
She got up and stood to watch him through the curtain.
He appeared to be just standing there, head resting against the tiles, letting the hot water run all over him.
Cat took her clothes off, brushed the curtain aside and told Dean to move over a bit.
He turned to her and wrapped his arms around her.
They stood like that for a long time, taking strength and comfort from the feel of each other's bodies.
Dean felt a tingle running down his arm.
When he looked, there was a strange tattoo stretching from his right nipple to his right wrist.
He looked at Cat and discovered the very same tattoo on her right side and arm as well.
"It's my witch's mark." said Cat quietly. "It only shows when I let it or when I do magic."
"Okay, but… why do I have one? I'm no witch!"
"No, but you're a witch's mate. Normally, a witch can only bond with another witch – and then their marks would merge. In our case, you simply got mine and… Oh."
"What?"
"You didn't get mine, after all. We got a totally new one."
"How so?"
"They tell a story, you see? Up here, this is my lineage, then down here, it tells of my powers - and all of that changed."
"Is that normal?"
"Dean, where we are concerned, there is no 'normal', because there never has been a precedent. A Hunter and a witch entering a lifebond, that simply has never happened before!"
"What does it say now, then?"
"My father's lineage is gone, only my mother's remains and it forms a bond with yours, here."
Catherine traced the swirls on his chest and shoulder.
"See, here's the sign of the Hunter." she pointed to a strangely shaped cross.
"And the rest?"
"The rest is different, too. I really need to think about what it all means… But Dean… well, do you mind having this mark very much?"
"No, it's just… strange. And exciting, I guess." he said pensively.
Dean nibbled on her collar bone, tracing the swirly pattern of the mark from her shoulder downwards.
For the first time in his entire life, he felt like he was complete, just the way he was supposed to be, instead of someone less than what people expected him to be.
He cupped Cat's face in his hands and kissed her.
As their bodies entwined, Dean gave silent thanks to the gods of hot water and to whoever had screwed a handle on the wall in such a strategically important spot.
Chapter 6
"So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or Ill lay your soul to waste,
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name,
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game"
The man in the light grey suit was as out of place in the junk yard as the ornate goblet in his hands.
He was in his fifties, handsome and well-preserved for his age - at least until he took off his sunglasses to reveal ice cold eyes totally devoid of emotion.
He stood motionless in the glaring sun.
Jerome du Lac was furious, but it didn't show.
His daughter was supposed to be here, but she wasn't.
Nobody was here – and the old, dilapidated house was so thoroughly warded that he and his demonic powers couldn't even enter to snoop around.
He lost one servant to a very devious booby trap already. His servants were all hand-picked and exceedingly loyal. He couldn't risk losing more of them, so he had called off the search of the house.
No, this was not how things were supposed to run.
Jerome still couldn't believe he had fallen for that stupid funeral the Council had organized to "bury" his daughter. Marge, the Council's seer, sobbing on Dominic's arm? PLEASE! He should have smelled a rat instantly.
Still, he had damaged Catherine so thoroughly back then that it had seemed more likely that she had died than that she would be able to survive.
He smiled as he recalled that night of pure pleasure.
How he had cut into her white skin, how she had screamed.
But then she suddenly had been spotted with two young man in some backwater town and he had rejoiced.
If he got her back, he could also lure the demon he had promised her to back.
And if he had that demon, he would be able to gain absolute power.
He had done a locator spell immediately and indeed, there she was. If only his men had been faster then, he could have had her already. But at least he could keep tabs on her and had followed her with more locator spells to this place.
He was taking care of business personally now, she would not be able to elude him much longer.
He placed the goblet on a rusty oil drum, took out a small knife and cut into his wrist. He let the drops spill into the goblet and said the spell. The familiar gravelly voice said: "Who is it you seek?"
"Catherine du Lac."
The silence stretched for too long.
"I cannot find anyone by that name."
"Is she hidden?" Jerome asked angrily.
"No, there is no fog surrounding her location. She is not there at all."
"Are you telling me she is dead?" Jerome spat out angrily.
"She is not there."
Useless. Totally useless. 'Not there'? What was that supposed to mean? How could she have vanished? It had to mean she was dead.
Jerome swore as he emptied out the goblet.
After that fake funeral, he had tried to lure the demon back with various other sacrifices. The thing wouldn't have any of them.
When Catherine was spotted, Jerome had hoped to be close to fulfilling his dream again, only to have this hope squashed again now.
He returned to New Orleans late at night and marched straight down to the vault in the basement.
As he opened the locked and warded door, his anticipation grew.
Inside the vault, there were four demons chained to the walls, each at one tip of a large, elaborate pentagram on the floor.
The fifth spot was empty.
Jerome stood in the middle of the pentagram and spoke the words of the ritual.
With the final word of command, the power started to flow out of the demons and into him.
He moaned with pleasure.
It was an exhilarating sensation, better than anything he had ever encountered in his life. And it never grew pale, either, it was always as good as it had been the very first time.
He was swaying in ecstasy.
When it was all over, he went to look at his demons.
Jerome could feel their hate roll over him, but he didn't care.
He was stronger than any one of them and the bonds that held them were unbreakable.
The black-eyed demon was inside the body of a young, beautiful woman. She smiled seductively at him. Jerome had let her loose a few times to enjoy her, but that excitement paled next to the sensation he had just experienced, so he wasn't interested right now.
The red-eyed demon tried to speak, but his bonds forbade it. Jerome smiled a nasty smile at the creature's rage and discomfort.
Green eyes, as usual, wouldn't look at him and purple eyes shot him a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.
He loved his little menagerie. They were so fascinating – each of them with their special set of powers, adding their different taste to his cocktail.
And he would find a way to get the missing specimen without his daughter as bait.
Chapter 7
"You're the one who makes me happy honey
You're the sun who makes me shine
When you're around I'm always laughing
I want to make you mine"
Cat twisted her hair into a bun and hummed that old Divinyls tune, grinning.
"I close my eyes
And see you before me
Think I would die
If you were to ignore me
A fool could see
Just how much I adore you
I get down on my knees
I'd do anything for you"
Dean was asleep.
A nice view he presented, too, the way he was sprawled on the bed on his stomach.
Hells bells, but that man had one damn fine butt!
Catherine chuckled as she went down the stairs.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop, while Maman Fontaine was cooking up a storm. Cat gave the old woman a hug, sniffed the scent rising from the jambalaya on the stove appreciatively, then sat at the table next to Sam.
"Can I use your laptop for a while, Sam? There's something I need to try out."
"Sure." He pushed it over to Catherine.
Maman Fontaine put the jambalaya in the oven and walked out.
She entered a URL in the browser. A log-in screen appeared.
Cat sat there for a long time, just staring at the screen.
She had done this so many times before.
All the information that lay behind the access control… it would have made her life so much easier in the past. But with the Council ban against her family, this well of knowledge had been closed to her.
"Forgot the password?" Sam asked curiously.
"No. Just not sure it will work." said Catherine, doubt clearly showing in her voice. She shook herself, then determinedly placed her splayed right hand on the keyboard. A bright glow formed around here hand and the screen changed.
"Welcome, Ms. Catherine," a polite voice said.
It came from a figure on the screen. A pale, slim man in an old-fashioned butler's livery stood in what looked like a library.
"My name is Gregory. How can I be of service?"
"Hello Gregory. Might I take a look at the Hunters' Genealogy?"
"Certainly. Should I look for a specific family line?"
"That would be very kind. The Fortezza line, if you could?"
"Ah, yes, of course. There is it is. A curious line. We almost lost it in 1582…."
"Could you send it to this computer, please?"
"Yes, Ms. Catherine. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, not right now, Gregory. Thank you kindly for your help."
"It was a pleasure to finally meet you. I wish you a good day, Ms. Catherine."
"Goodbye, Gregory."
With that, she took her palm off the keyboard and the library was gone in favour of the log-in screen.
Catherine opened the file with the Fortezza family tree. Sam was looking a little stunned, but extremely interested.
"Look, Sam, here's Davide."
"Wow… this is a huge family tree. It will take forever to find our family, if they are even on there."
Catherine laughed.
"No, it really won't. REVEAL!"
At this command, a red line started to form at Davide's name and slowly made its way across the page, until it came to the name Dean Winchester at the far end of it.
"I can't believe it, this is…. GREAT!"
"Yes."
"I just don't know… let me see where the line starts again. I mean, Davide died, right… so…"
Catherine moved her hand and the page moved back to where Davide's name stood. Next to Davide was the name Clara Bonaventura.
Underneath them both and connected by two lines coming from them, stood Guiseppe Bonaventura and the date January 15th, 1581.
"Mystery solved, I guess, "said Catherine drily.
"You're, uh, not going to hold that against Dean, are you? I mean, not after over 400 year, right?"
Catherine laughed and shook her head.
Dean buttoned his shirt as he ran down the stairs. He could hear Catherine laugh in the kitchen. It did funny things to his stomach. He smiled broadly.
He walked into the kitchen and saw Cat and Sammy bent over the laptop.
"Hey, what's up?"
"You're such a dog, Dean, " laughed Sam and turned to face his brother.
"What did I do?"
Catherine grinned at him and said: "Nothing much. You just slept around a bit and thus made sure we could meet again in the here and now. Come here and kiss me, Casanova!"
"I don't understand a word you're saying, except the kiss me bit and there your wish is my command, " said Dean grandly and bent down to kiss his woman.
Coming soon
"You know I'm a crawlin' kingsnake baby, and I rules my den
You know I'm a crawlin' kingsnake baby, and I rules my den
I don't want you hangin' around my mate,
Wanna use her for myself"
It was the final showdown between Catherine and her father
In the darkness, things were stirring…….