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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.
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Flight through Time
Chapter 4
Riding Near Avebury
From Chapter 3
"I'm no psychic, Dean," Bobby said slowly "but I should be able to read a tracking spell. There's something interfering with this one. It's distorted, faint. It's almost like Sam is even farther away than just England. I think we have real problem here."
"What can we do?"
"Boy I think you better call in the heavy guns. Does that Angel still respond when you pray? We need his kind of help I think."
Bobby wiped his hands with a cloth from his pocket. "You better go wash and bandage that cut, Dean. Then you better get to praying. I've done all I can do for you."
Chapter 4
The tent went down around the boy sitting on the three legged stool. A soldier came in to pack up the contents for Iranis. Throwing clothing, blankets and pillows into loose bags the soldier kept an eye on the quiet child sitting with a bowed head.
"You better get up and move, boy." The man finally growled. "The Legatus Legionis wants you to travel with the rest of the baggage.
The boy looked up at this new player. In broken Latin with an accent the soldier could not identify the bay said, "Movement, travel, horse." He paused then continued, "Ocean, water?"
"To the coast, as if it was any of your business. You'll go where ever the Legatus wants you to go. You've been claimed and until someone of higher rank comes along to claim you from Iranis you belong to him." The soldier scanned the tent. "Come with me. I'll get you on a horse before the rest of this stuff gets packed up. If all this gets loaded on the backs of those miserable ponies you'll end up walking all the way to the sea. Come along." With that the soldier grabbed by boy by one arm and pulled him out of the tent.
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Outside was a scene of planned chaos. Tents were falling; men were yelling at each other, servants were loading possessions on the backs of disinterested pack animals. Departure was in the air. This camp was dissolving, disappearing. In another hour all that would be left would be trampled mud and fetid latrines. All the power and strength of a Roman military camp would be gone. Only debris would be left to mark the place where hundreds of men had lived for the past six months.
Sam was lead along by his latest minder. He longed to be gone. The smells, noise and persistent movement was wearing him down. He longed to be free of these men. It had been interesting to a student of history for some time but now it was simply becoming uncomfortable. The food was disgusting and there was not much of it. Boiled meat and watery gravy was not a diet Sam wished to become accustomed to. He suspected the meat to perhaps be horse. It might be what happened to these pack animals when their useful life span ran out. It would make sense. Northing would be allowed to go to waste in a camp like this.
These people never seemed to wash. Even a brief dunking in a nearby stream would have helped cut down the constant stink of too many men, in too small a space for too long a time. Even the officers, the Centurions and the Legatus all had a sour smell about them.
Sam's complaints were put aside when he was lifted onto the back of one of the shaggy ponies. The saddle was a simple strip of leather over a blanket. The ends of the strap were threaded through a buckle and prong device that really hadn't changed much in two thousand years. Sam's hands were loosely tied with another strip of leather wrapped around the primitive saddle and simple reins lead to a halter. There was no bit in the pony's mouth. Sam assumed the pony had been trained, as were most pack animals, to just follow the tail of the animal in front. There was no prancing to control. The reins were there for the benefit of a possible rider, not for controlling the horse.
Sam sat quietly. In his bright white clothing and golden bands he stood out in the dun colored pack train, a single spot of color. He stared back at every pair of eyes that landed on him and there were a lot of eyes looking; measuring, weighing his worth. He was on display, something of value found in this primitive land. The army was always on the hunt for loot in these forsaken places. This particular trip had been very disappointing so far.
After sitting in the sun for far too long there finally was movement. The massed pack train turned their heads to the south and slowly moved out of the broken camp, headed for the ocean seventy five miles away. Sam was still not sure exactly where he was and he had no idea how he had come to the place. The additional question of why he was a prepubescent boy dressed in while with tattoos and coveted gold bands on his arms was another mystery. The only thing he knew for sure was that his name was Sam Winchester. Other than that he was completely bewildered.
The pack train moved slowly through the landscape. Sam used the time to sort through the fragments of memory rattling around in his head. He finally remembered a bonfire, dancing woman and powder thrown in his face. Through his watering eyes the last thing he saw was the face of a woman who looked so surprised he wanted to reach out and calm her down.
He remembered his brother calling out his name. Another fragment recovered, he cheered. He had a brother and his brother's name was Dean. After that there was only darkness and a feeling of falling, falling with a shower of sand falling with him. He and the shifting sand had fallen together through a silent universe. The next time he had opened his eyes he had been lying on a bed of leaves looking at a row of horses tied to a picket rope.
Sam was sunk so far into his memories that only a hand smacking him on the leg broke his concentration. Throwing his head up he found himself looking into the eyes of the man called Iranis, the Roman Legatus Legionis.
Iranis laughed at the shocked look on the boy's face. "Sleeping, are you?"
Sam caught at the meaning of the words. His church Latin was coming back to him. Pulling the words wrapped in prayers and fitting them into everyday speech was like doing a crossword puzzle in a foreign language but he was making progress. The accents took a little handling but slowly be was beginning to understand what the men were saying. He was not yet confident enough to start forming his own replies but at least he was not sitting out in the cold, mystified by what was going on around him any longer.
Iranis turned the head of his much larger horse back to the front of the line and rode away. He had only been checking on the boy. The child was Iranis's only hope of turning a profit on this disaster of an expedition. They had conquered nothing of note, just more of these painted forest savages. They had gained no new settlements for the glory of Rome and the Gods knew they had not found any treasure. This oddly dressed and suspiciously clean child was the man's last hope.
Once they were loaded on the boats and on their way back to Rome Iranis believed he would have plenty of time to teach the boy manners; to make him respect his elders and, most of all, tell the Legatus exactly who he was. The man was sure he could open those pretty soft lips and get the boy to tell him everything he wanted to know. If there was nothing else the boy would make a fine addition to the stable of male child slaves that lived in his villa.
There were plenty of Romans who paid Iranis for access to those boys. It was an acceptable part of Roman life, the pairing of men and boys. Yes, Iranis was sure this oddly tender child would be worth his weight in gold once he was properly trained.
Sam was awake and fully aware. He looked around at the passing scene. There wasn't that much to look at. They were just coming out of the woodlands on to a long gently undulating plain that stretched away to the horizon. The air was so clear he felt like he could see for miles. The air even smelled pure. This was the world new born. If not new born it was at least unsullied.
Slowly the pack train moved over the face of the world. Sam decided that the ground under his pony's hooves appeared to be quite chalky. The animal's hooves would occasionally cut through a thin grassy layer and a flash of white would appear.
Every now and then they would come across huge flat rocks, many feet long, lying on the slopes of some of the northerly hills. As Sam stared at the roughly smoothed surfaces pounded flat by years of rain, snow and exposure a word floated to the front of his mind. Sarsen, these stones were called Sarsens.
Sam sat up straight and peered as far to the south as he could. The pure clarity of the air helped a great deal. Finally he found what he was expecting. Far off, on a slight rise above the surrounding plain he could see standing stones in a circle. He could also see stones in a line, pointing a path to the circle. He knew he was looking at one of the world's great Neolithic temples. He was looking at Avebury on the Wilshire plains in ancient Briton. At least he now knew where he was.
The geography of the world slid smoothly into his head. Looking closer to home he also realized the significance of Romans riding through this landscape. As well as he could remember Rome sent forces into Briton during the first century A.D. He now knew where he was and evidently when he was. The only thing he need to know now was why. Why was he here?
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In Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the twentieth century Dean Winchester prayed to his Angel. He had not called on Castiel very much lately but this was in the nature of an emergency.
The whisper of Angel wings filled the room. "Dean," the gravel voiced Angel said. "Do you need me? Do you need help?"
Dean turned to his friend. It had been a while. Castiel had been off to Heaven dealing with Heaven's problems, leaving Dean and Sam on their own. He was, after all, only one Angel and the demands on his time seemed occasionally unreasonable. So often the seraph had to prioritize but in his heart he always felt the problems of the Winchester boys had first call.
"How can I help, Dean?" He repeated.
"I'm sorry to bother you Cas," Dean said. "I know you are busy."
"Dean," Castiel come closer and dropped his hand on Dean's shoulder. "You must know by now that your problems always come first with me. Now how can I help?"
"Cas," Dean said sadly. "I lost Sam."
Dean laid the whole story out for the Angel with as much detail as he could remember. Who knew what would be important in the Angel's eyes?
Finally Castiel stood over Bobby Singer's desk and looked at the tracking spell.
"It didn't work, Cas," Bobby said. "I don't understand. That spell always works. I've never had it fail before. It works 100% of the time, all the time"
Castiel shook his head. "You're wrong Bobby," he said. "You spell worked, it worked just fine. Sam is in Briton, right where you have scried. The problem with the reading is that you are only reading in three dimensions. You need to read it in four."
"Four dimensions, Cas?" Bobby took in a deep breath. "Isn't the fourth dimension time? Do you mean to say that Sam is lost in space and in time?"
"Exactly," Castiel replied. "This is very odd."
Castiel looked into Dean Winchester's eyes. "Dean, you are sure this was a human witch? You described her to me as an untrained, almost innocent witch, unaware of her powers and unable to control them. Is that right?"
"Yes," Dean answered firmly. "That's how it went down. We killed the crazy old witch but the one we talked to did throw the powder into Sam's eyes and said she heard the words of power spoken out of the empty air."
Castiel looked back at Bobby's map. "As I aid, this is very odd. No human should have been able to accomplish such an incredible spell, no matter how highly powered. Something else interfered with the working of this spell."
"Well, Cas." Dean interrupted the Angel's musings. "What can we do about it? Can we get Sammy back?"
Cas stepped away from the desk. "Oh, yes. We can get Sam back. Right now is a very auspicious time to do so. Sam is approaching one of the great power nexus of the human world. He seems to be going directly to the Avebury temple. We can meet him there and save him from this entanglement. "