Seven - "Wild Hunt"

"After Joanna?" he asked, quietly, when they'd entered the motel, and she flinched.

"My mother named me," she answered, almost defensively, "She thought the more feminine diminutive might keep me from walking in my family's footsteps."

"Guess it didn't really help, did it?" Sam asked, wearily, and practically fell onto one of the beds.

Rob--Anna stood with her back against the door, looking drained. "Maybe it would've if she hadn't died. Who knows... Maybe it's just in my blood."

He shook his head and let out a small, unhappy chuckle. She closed her eyes and then opened them, drew a long, shakey breath and came to sit on the other bed. She was trying to walk like a guy, and that's what had been making her trip, he realized now, and he chuckled harder.

"Oh, God..." he said, through his laughter, and she eyed him warily. "Please, do me a favor...?"

"What?" she retorted suspiciously.

"Just be yourself, okay? I'm around now, so you can just drop the act. It doesn't work for you, anyway." He smiled, and she scowled for a little bit before relaxing and smiling uncertainly, too.

He saw Dean again, and shook his head, whispering, "And you keep reminding me of him..."

She stared, looking as if she was going to bite some sort of comment back at him, then it vanished, replaced by a resigned sort of peace. "Maybe I don't look like either of you. You two are just obsessed with each other. Men."

"What do you mean?" he wondered, and she shrugged.

"Dad was constantly saying I looked like you, and now you're saying I look like him. I think I'm gonna to rely on Uncle Bobby, though. He said I acted like Dean and looked more like my mother."

"You look like Dean," Sam said, adamantly, and she chuckled.

He rolled his eyes at himself and shrugged. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right."

He laughed again, thinking that Bobby had hit the nail on the head. Then he realized they couldn't just keep sitting here, reminiscing. That thing had nearly killed another family and included his niece in the package. They needed to do something about it before it decided to find itself some other victims.

"Does you journal have anything else about the Herla?" he asked, and withdrew the leather-bound book from his jacket.

Anna shrugged. "No, it's... yeah, a little. I wrote down a whole bunch surrounding the whole fairytale of King Herla. And..." She stood and took it from him, and started flipping through the pages. "And... some other ones related to it, like Tam Lin."

"Tam Lin?" Sam wondered, some memory tickling the back of his mind.

"Yeah," she replied, and there was that not-quite meeting of his eyes again, as she sat back down. "He was supposed to be the leader of the Wild Hunt in another version of the story."

Then Sam remembered. Back when he was at Stanford, he'd taken a Literature class... Tam Lin was saved by a woman he fell in love with, by jumping off of his horse into her arms. But he warned her that the queen of the fairies would try to trick her into dropping him by turning him into different animals. Finally, she'd turned him into a coal, but still the woman had held on, and he'd been saved from being the leader of the Wild Hunt forever.

"Do you think..." Sam began, and then reacting to her averted gaze, demanded, "Is Dean still alive?"

She shook her head, didn't look up, flipped another page of the book. Brokenly, she said, "I... don't know, sir. He said a spell... I still haven't been able to hunt it down, and... the thing switched places with him. I saw Dad," she said, and looked up at him, lower lip trembling, "Right before he rode away. He wasn't the same... he looked insane..."

Sam's fingers dug into the mattress on either side of him. "He's still alive..." he said, half to himself. "Maybe there's something to the Tam Lin--" He stopped himself, when she looked away, and reached up to swipe at her tears. "What is it?"

"I lied," she said, and somehow, it didn't suprise him. The girl was a walking white-lie. "I told you I tried to cast a spell to get rid of the Herlkonig. I didn't. I tried to bring my father back. I tried to make them switch places again."

"But the story," Sam said, quietly, thoughtfully, "Tam Lin was there... Dean wasn't there when you cast that spell, was he?"

She shook her head, looked at him, carefully. "You think if we could find him...?"

"Let me take a look at that spell," he ordered, and held out his hand for the journal.

She swallowed, looked down at it, then up at him again, then handed it over, still open to the place she'd turned it to. Sam looked down and read from the middle of the page.

"...maybe I can bring Dad back... maybe he's not completely gone. Maybe there's something left of him. I have to believe that... or there's not gonna be anything left of me. I'll try the spell. I know where the Herla will show up now. If it doesn't work, at least I can keep it from hurting another family."

Sam glanced up at her, and asked, "Then Bobby showed up?"

She nodded, jaw clenched--some of her old, Rob-demeanor showing through, (or maybe that was actually just another part of her). "He sent her away with the spell you used." She'd kept it conveniently at the front of the journal. "And then rushed me to the emergency room. They said I nearly lost the arm, and I think maybe Uncle Bobby called someone in... you know, to fix it a little."

Sam's brows went up. "I don't know about that. Dean and I used to think there wasn't a real healer out there. Do you remember someone coming?"

She shook her head. "Nah... I had nightmares about snakes, biting me, and one about a black horse that tried to trample me. I put up my arm, and he chomped down on it. And other wacked-out stuff, like that." She grinned, and Sam thought maybe his heart would stop.

At the same time that he saw Dean, he saw Jo, and it was disconcerting and heartbreaking, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it for another second. "Look... I'm... gonna go get some take-out and stop at the library. You stay put, okay?"

He stood, and handed back her journal. She took it, uncertainly, and demanded, "Why can't I go with you?"

"Because you look like death-warmed-over," he retorted. "Get some sleep, or something. By the way, I had to break into the Impala... Dean would kill me, but I managed not to break the window."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he wondered if he was ever going to get past the likeness. "What'd you do to her?"

"Jimmied the door," he replied, and started to head out. He tossed over his shoulder, at her groan, "It's okay, I locked it back up when I left."

"You put a scratch on her, didn't you?" she called after him, but he was already stepping outside. When he closed the door, he was suprised to find a mischievous grin plastered on his face. God, did that feel weird. When was the last time he'd smiled like this?

Heck, did it matter? It just felt freakin' good.


The problem with Sam was, he didn't know she couldn't sit still. Growing up, Dean and Anna had learned a little bit about ADD. They hadn't gone to a doctor, like she'd claimed, but they'd done internet and library research. And really, ADD was just another way of saying ADHD. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

Which was why she was heading down the street, on foot. She was just going to go to the Impala and bring it back to the motel, and then she was going to come back and put salt-lines around--

Up ahead, she saw the shimmering in and out of little, golden-red diamonds. She balked, going cold down to her toes, and started to turn to run. But when she did, she found herself face to face with the rocker-girl from before.

The demon smiled maliciously, and reached out a hand, and Anna jumped back. She crouched low, and snatched the iron-bladed knife that was attached to the back of her boot, and came back up in a knife-pointed lunge toward the spectre. In lore, iron was said to repell fairy creatures. She didn't expect it to work... just hoped it might buy her some time.

She fell through blood and lost souls screaming, and ended up scraping a palm against the pavement to keep herself upright. She kept moving, bringing herself around to face her opponent, and saw that the Herla had turned and was sneering at her, long, red whip already in her hand.

"Did you think you could touch me?" she wondered, "With human hands alone?"

"I thought I'd try," Anna said, speaking out of bravado and faith, not reality. Dad had always told her not to let them see her sweat. Never let the enemy see her tired or afraid. Sometimes it worked...

"You're shuddering now, just wait until I separate your hand from your arm."

Sometimes it didn't.


Sam realized how stupid he'd been to leave her alone, when he got back with food and a printout of the Tam Lin story. He was planning to suggest to Anna that he'd call up someone who knew more about the spell she'd used, but when he opened the unlocked door, ready to chew her out for leaving it that way, he saw that she was gone.

Out of desperate stupidity, he checked the bathroom, just to make sure. He wished she had a cell, and then realized there was only one place she would have wanted to go. To get the car.


"Just wait until my daddy shows up to kick your butt," Anna hissed, in return, and the Herla laughed.

"You think he even cares anymore?" she wondered, and walked to the side, as if she planned to circle Anna, like an animal closing in for the kill. Anna turned in place, keeping her in front, as she paced, the small knife raised in front of her, and the other hand up, defensively. "He doesn't even remember you."

Anna remembered the agony of skin being sliced down to the muscle, past veins, nearly to the bone. Those words cut almost as bad. "What would you know? Did you ever have a father? Mine always showed up when I needed him. Could you say the same?"

It laughed again, and Anna jerked in reaction. "I don't remember my father. If I ever had one, in the first place." She sneered. "Haven't I proven my point quite well?" And she struck out with the whip...

Anna turned just in time to avoid losing her eye, but it still hit her, like before, this time across the back. She whimpered and went down, but started saying the binding spell. She'd been smart enough to memorize it, after the first time, but the fear had prevented her from remembering it, earlier. Now preservation instinct had kicked in, and she spoke the words in a trembling voice...

'I'm going to die... this night, aren't I?' that part of her that was "Rob" asked her, and she had to admit through her brave facade, 'Yeah. I think so.'

"You little witch!" the being screetched, and snapped the whip down. And the whip twisted around Anna's back and cut into her side.

She screamed, but over it, she heard something--something coming from far off. It was galloping.