Chapter 7
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"Guh," Dean groaned, one hand easing up to his head. Gingerly running his hand through his short sandy-blond hair, he was surprised to find no sign of blood or even a welt that would explain the pounding in his head.
Taking stock of the rest of his body, he found none of the normal side effects that a night of binge drinking could be blamed for the killer headache that had him clenching his eyes shut in pain.
Confusion swamped the hunter as he tried to recall just what had happened in the last few moments. As his hand pressed against what felt like cobblestones, he found himself suddenly wondering if the esteemed Mrs. Hodges had had him tossed onto the sidewalk out front of Harmony House.
Forcing his eyes open, he levered himself up, while calling out for his brother. "Sam?"
Sam's lack of reply had Dean scanning the area despite the desperate wish that he could simply sink back down onto the cool paving stones and surrender to the pain. Instead, he took note of and dismissed the crowd of strangers that ringed him loosely and again called for his brother, "Sammy?"
Silence was Dean's only answer, raising his level of panic to an even higher notch. "Sam!"
"Oh, you poor, Dear. Tell me you're okay?" an older woman called out as she approached Dean, her hands held out in supplication. "That was a terrible tumble you took."
Confusion clouded Dean's mind as he tried to make sense of the woman's words. "Fall?"
The formidable looking woman nodded firmly and made a shooing gesture toward the strangers that crowded around them. "Alright you lot, get gone, there's nothing left to see."
As the crowd dispersed, Dean felt some of his earlier tension disappear. "Thanks," he muttered even as he again turned in a slow circle trying to find some sign of his missing brother.
"Here, Dear, why don't you come set a spell," the woman insisted, tugging gently but firmly on Dean's elbow as she led him toward the outdoor café he'd snubbed his nose at earlier in the week. Pulling out a chair from the tiny table, she then waved a hand at a nearby busboy. "Timmy, some water for the young man."
Working hard to hide the pain that was still pounding against the inside of his skull, Dean steadied his stance and ignored the chair. "Thanks," he growled as he accepted the glass of water the reed-thin young man offered him.
"Now tiny sips mind you so it doesn't come back up," the woman warned as Dean lifted the glass to drink.
Rolling his eyes at the old woman's order, Dean took a sip, relishing the feel as the cool water slid down his throat. Feeling almost ridiculously better, Dean quickly drained the glass in one long swallow.
"Thanks," he muttered as he rubbed a hand across his mouth.
"No worries, Dear, what kind of woman would I be if I didn't offer a bit of kindness to a stranger."
The woman stared hard at Dean, her grey-eyed stare boring into him as she appeared to be waiting for a reply. Unsure of what was expected, Dean hesitatingly offered, "…I'm Dean…"
Obviously he'd said the right thing as the stout woman beamed and offered her hand. "Norma Winthrop. What brings you to Harmony, young Dean?"
Dean shifted uneasily as he tried to gauge the woman's response. So far the town hadn't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon for him and his brother; though he had to admit that Birdy and May's warm welcomes had more than made up for it.
"I was up at the Gallery." Keeping his reply vague, Dean couldn't help but scan the area around him once again for his brother.
He knew Sam, knew him better than anyone, and he knew his kid brother wouldn't have just abandoned him if he knew Dean had had some sort of accident. He couldn't help but wonder if he and Sam had split up after leaving Harmony House.
Apparently, the older Winchester's words had been a bit too vague as Norma's open expression suddenly clouded over. "The Gallery? She questioned.
Gesturing toward the Victorian house that stood only a block away, Dean explained, "The art gallery."
Frowning slightly, Norma took a step backward and rested her hands at her waist. "You came to town alone?"
The question threw Dean off for a moment as he noticed the woman's frown. Nodding slightly, Dean didn't mention Sam. He wasn't quite sure why, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea that he didn't offer up any more information.
Edging slightly away from the matronly woman, he kept lookout for his brother. Dean knew it wouldn't be hard to pick out Sam. The kid hadn't been able to blend in easily ever since he'd turned sixteen and had hit a major growth spurt. Since then the youth didn't bother to try and disappear so much as he worked to be unassuming. Most of the time it worked, there was just something about Sam's puppy-dog gaze and shaggy hair that made people underestimate him.
As he scanned the streets a sudden movement caught his attention and caused his jaw to drop open in surprise. There, making its way up the main thoroughfare was a horse and carriage.
"Huh, well, look at that," he said as he watched the buggy continue down the road.
He'd been through Pennsylvania Amish country often enough to find the sight of the old-fashioned mode of transportation not that surprising. Given Rachel Hodges decree that the town of Harmony should reflect the past the buggy actually made sense. Still…"The old biddy really goes all out doesn't she," he muttered.
At his words, Norma shot him another confused glance and nodded slowly. "Yes, my Dear. I see."
The confusion he could clearly read in Norma's expression had Dean taking a couple more steps away. He wasn't sure what was going on with the older woman, but he really had no interest in finding out. As he watched the carriage disappear, he noticed that something seemed different about the main thoroughfare. Earlier in the day he'd noticed the sheer number of cars that had lined the streets. Now, though it couldn't be much more than late afternoon given the position of the sun, it seemed as if everyone had cleared out.
Remembering Birdy's warning about the parking authority, Dean couldn't help but be grateful that he'd had the sense to leave his baby at Birch House. The last thing he needed was for the Chevy to end up getting towed. Intent on calling his brother, to give the younger man a warning, Dean reached into coat pocket for his cellphone.
It was then the last vestiges of Dean's confusion fell away giving him a moment of complete clarity for the first time since he'd come too. Instead of his usual uniform of jeans, work boots, tee-shirt, and a button down, he now found himself in a pair of black dress shoes, pinstripe pants and a matching vest that covered a white cotton dress shirt.
While he'd come to agree with Sam's insistence that dressing the part did indeed help their investigations, he was pretty damn sure he'd never once agreed to dress like an extra from a production of Our Town. Reaching out one shaking finger, he carefully lifted out the pocket watch that was tucked into his vest pocket. It was the solid feel of the watch more than anything else that had him realizing that he wasn't in some kind of dream or coma.
Fear and anger warred within the hunter as he backed up even farther, putting a few feet between him and the grey-haired woman that was now staring at him. He took in what he had assumed was a period costume before, noting the woman's dark navy skirt and snowy white blouse.
"What kind of freaky game are you people playing at?" Dean growled as he gestured toward his vintage clothing. "What'd you do to me?"
"I haven't done anything but try and help," the older woman insisted even as she held up a hand to ward him off.
"Listen Lady, I'm telling you now you better hope nothing's happened to my boots," Dean gestured toward the stiff black leather shoes he now sported as he began to advance on the older woman. The jeans and tee were replaceable, but it'd taken two weeks to fully break-in his only pair of boots.
"Young man, I do not know where you are from, but here in Harmony we do not accuse pillars of society of stealing clothes," Norma snapped as she turned her back on Dean and began to make her way down the street.
For one long moment, Dean considered going after the old broad. It was only the idea that his brother was most likely expecting him back at Birch House that convinced Dean to let her go. Grimacing at the feel of the unfamiliar clothes, Dean turned his back on the patrons of the café and set off down the street.
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"Dean!" Sam shouted once more, ignoring the slight ache the words left in his throat. Near as he could tell his brother had been missing for nearly forty minutes now. At first, after Dean had disappeared, he'd drawn his gun and begun a methodical search of the building.
He'd moved quietly, using caution to ensure that Hodges or her lackey wouldn't be able to get the jump on him. However, as time had worn on and he'd come no closer to finding his brother let alone the old woman, he'd given up on quiet and had proceeded to shout the place down.
"Dean!"
So far his frantic search had taken him from the basement to the attic three times and had yet to yield anything. Coming to a halt at last in the display room where Dean had disappeared, Sam swiped a hand through his shaggy hair and tipped back his head. "Dean!"
Despite the fact that he knew the yelling was getting him nowhere, Sam couldn't help it. That his brother hadn't replied to Sam's shouts, or contacted him in some way, left the younger hunter with a hollow feeling in the center of his chest.
Ignoring the ache, Sam forced himself to take a deep breath. Despite the silence that drove home just how serious the situation was, Sam reminded himself of the many times he'd seen his big brother push himself beyond what should have been physically possible in order to return to him.
Dean would be okay if for no other reason than Sam needed him to be. His brother had spent the majority of his life giving Sam what he needed and not even Stanford had changed that. Since he'd returned to hunting, Sam had begun to realize the only reason he'd even had a chance at normal had been because of his big brother.
Growing up, Sam had felt as if his life had been warped beyond all normal. Yet, given what he'd seen over the last couple of months, the young hunter had come to realize just how hard Dean had worked to protect his innocence when they'd been kids. It hurt Sam to realize that there'd been no one to do the same for his brother.
Still, while he couldn't do anything about the past, the present was within his reach.
First, he had to admit that searching Harmony House was getting him nowhere fast. He needed more information. Even if he was to stumble across Hodge, her minion or the painting he had no clue what to do next.
Knowing that the disappearances in Chautauqua County began and ended with the Harmony Gallery wasn't enough. During his search he'd found no sign of either his brother or any of the victims that had gone missing.
"I'll be back, Dean. Just hold on," Sam muttered as he forced himself to head for the front door. The words were every bit as much a promise to his brother as they were a vow for himself.
As he made his way down the brick lined walkway, his back to Harmony House, Sam couldn't resist looking over his shoulder one more time at the hulking shadow of the gallery. The feeling of being watched stayed with him long after he exited through the small wooden gate and began to make his way down the cobblestone sidewalk.
The line of cars he passed as he made his way down Main Street, were an important reminder that he needed to be cautious. Tucking his gun away, he kept his gaze peeled for any kind of trouble. A woman of Rachel Hodges caliber probably had the local police in her back pocket. Landing himself in jail, or worse, ending up in some kind of showdown with the local PD wouldn't get his brother back.
Determined to act smart, Sam slipped into the ever increasing darkness without a sound.
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Emma hummed slightly as she moved about the kitchen a bouquet of flowers from her garden in hand. Laying the blooms on the wooden block table that sat in the middle of the room, she quickly gathered up two vases and filled them with cool water from the sink. Removing a knife from the cupboard, she set about carefully pruning the flowers.
Taking her time she divided the blooms into the two vases primping and adjusting until she was completely satisfied. Leaving one of the vases in the center of the kitchen table, she took up the other and crossed the kitchen, heading for the dining room.
As she moved by the kitchen window a faint shadow caught her eye, causing her to change direction and head to the window above the sink instead. Squinting slightly, she took note of a figure moving through her backyard with a familiar ease.
The shock of seeing someone making their way through her garden was enough to have her fumbling with the vase she still held. Carefully placing the glass container on the kitchen counter, she ducked down beneath the window and headed for the kitchen door.
She'd come in from outside only moments ago and hadn't bothered locking the door. Realizing her mistake, she eased up next to the door and peeked through the glass. As she scanned the backyard she found no glimpse of the intruder. Her breathing began to settle slightly as she continued to watch the garden.
At last, certain she'd been imagining things; Emma straightened and moved away from the door. She'd only just retrieved her flowers, when the back door burst open, causing her to scream as the vase dropped from her hands and shattered on the vinyl floor.
Whipping around she faced the door, taking in the young man who now stood paused in the threshold. Though he held no weapon that she could see, the grim expression he wore, coupled with the way he seemed to fill the doorframe had Emma bolting from the room.
The sound of a muttered curse and footsteps behind her had her grabbing up her long skirts in one hand and picking up her pace. Through the dining room she ran, her intention to get to the front door before the man pursuing her could catch up.
She was half-way to freedom when a sudden weight slammed into her from behind, knocking her forward. Braced for impact, Emma was instead surprised to find her fall cushioned by a pair of strong arms. As they tumbled to the ground, her assailant twisted taking the brunt of the fall.
Only slightly winded from the hard landing, Emma found herself staring down into the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.
"Easy," the man breathed even as he tightened his grip on her.
The arms locked about her waist might as well have been bands of steel for all that Emma was able to budge them when at last she shook off her surprise and began to struggle.
"Let me go," she begged, hating the pleading tone of her voice.
The green-eyed devil ignored her order, rolled them both over and came to rest on top of her. His weight now easily supported by his elbows, he again cautioned her, "Easy, I'm not here to hurt you."
Trapped and unwilling to wait for the intruder's next move, Emma ignored his words and continued to struggle to free herself. "Get off of me," She panted as she shoved against the solid weight of his body.
"Stop, Emma," he ordered, his use of her name temporarily stunning her into submission.
"You're safe with me," he promised as he took advantage of her sudden stillness and reared back, drawing her up beside him.
Despite the fact that her shaking legs threatened to drop her back to the floor at any moment, she couldn't help but draw some comfort from her upright position. No matter what the stranger intended, Emma felt better facing it standing.
"Who are you?" she questioned. Despite the fact that he knew her name, Emma was certain she'd never seen him before. Looming over her, he had a presence about him that was intimidating to say the least.
"My name is Dean Winchester and believe it or not, I've been looking for you."
Though his words were ridiculous, Emma could clearly hear the sincerity in his rough reply. "Looking for me?" she questioned, "I haven't gone anywhere."
Even as she said the words a wave of uncertainty washed over her, leaving her reeling. Tearing her gaze from the man before her, Emma focused on her surroundings. The familiar sight of her living room, helped to drive away her doubts. "This is my house, you can't just come barging in here," she insisted.
Still gripping her wrist, the man tugged, drawing her toward the sofa. Pushing down on her shoulder he forced Emma to take a seat. Though she wanted to appear strong, it really didn't take much force to make her knees buckle, dropping her down onto the couch with a thump.
"Listen to me, Emma; you've been missing for nearly two weeks. This isn't your house; in fact, I'm not even sure this is…" Here the young man looked down at his own clothes and grimaced. "Your time."
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Hoping to stop the slight tremor that had started in his hands moments ago, Dean drew in a deep breath and tried to marshal his thoughts. Up until about ten minutes ago his earlier headache had all but disappeared. Then, just after he'd tumbled across Emma it had returned with stomach clenching vengeance. Now it was taking all he had to remain on his feet.
"My time?" the pretty red-head questioned as she stared up at him with wide frightened eyes.
Focusing on her words, Dean nodded and considered what he'd pieced together so far. His walk from the Gallery to Birch house had been informative to say the least. The town of Harmony had changed since he'd awoken outside of the art house, and he couldn't honestly say it had been for the better.
Gone were the jean and tee-shirt sporting tourists. No longer did the sidewalks boast red-faced dad's pushing overloaded strollers while their progeny whined. Even the discreet signs proclaiming that stores offered Pepsi-Cola and accepted Visa were gone. As near as he could tell the town had reverted to how it must have been in the early 1900's.
He'd awoken to a world where every modern convenience was gone; including his jockey shorts and his car. As he sat, considering the stifling undershirt and long drawers he now sported under his twill pants and dress shirt, he found himself missing the former much more than the latter.
"Our time…your time…2005," he clarified.
Considering that the young girl was looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, Dean had to figure she had no clue what he was talking about. Then again, maybe she was right and he had lost his marbles, after all, he was the one trying to prove that they'd both been tossed into a different time, or maybe even a different dimension.
As 'buckets of crazy' as it sounded it was all he had at the moment so he went with it. "Emma, you have to know something wrong. We don't belong here?"
"Here?" she questioned, confusion lacing her voice. "You mean in this house. But I live here."
"No," Dean stated firmly. "This house was built for Victoria Holt in 1898. After she passed away her daughter Birdy inherited it."
The woman paled at Dean's words, one shaky hand reaching up to brush against her forehead. The elder Winchester could sympathize, if Emma's headache was anything like his own, it was a wonder she was still standing.
"No, this is my house, I'm sure of it."
"No, Emma, it's not. Your name is Emma Stone, you're twenty-five and you work for an auction house, your boss and friend Sarah Blake asked my brother and I to find you. You were passing through Harmony on a buying trip when you up and disappeared."
Again, she shook her head. "No. I mean…yes, my name is Emma Stone, but I live here. I have since…"
Here Emma's words trailed off and her face went slack. For a long moment she sat her eyes blank and staring. Dean had a sudden moment of fear that he'd pushed too hard.
Then with an exaggerated blink, she grabbed his shirt sleeve and gave a sudden exaggerated blink. "I was in Harmony House, looking over some art-work when all the sudden I woke up on the street dressed like this," She breathed, gesturing toward her outfit.
"Finally," Dean muttered as he grabbed hold of Emma's hand and twisted his sleeve out of her grasp. Taking her shaking hands in his own, he prodded, "So, you woke up and then what? You just picked this place to call home?"
"No," Emma whispered, "No, I had a key, I recognized the sign and then…"
"And then?" The hunter prodded, urging her on.
"I let myself inside and that's the last thing I can remember." Here Emma's eyes seemed to lose focus again for a minute before she turned toward Dean and begged, "But that can't be. If I've been gone for two weeks, I mean what the hell have I been doing?"
Looking about the neatly kept home, Dean ventured a guess, "I'm thinking you've been playing at house. Is there anything else?"
"The headaches," Emma replied immediately. Tugging at the high collar of her shirtwaist the redhead drew in a shaky breath. "I've been having these massive headaches."
Dean nodded and pointed toward his own head, "Right there with ya, sweetheart."
"Wait, you said you and your brother were looking for me? If you're here, where is he?"
"That's a good question," Dean ground out as he glanced about the room. He didn't know which he was wishing for more, that Sam had gotten away free and clear and was even now trying to find a way to get him back, or that his giant of a brother had gotten sucked into the time warp with him and any minute now he was going to come barreling in bellowing Dean's name.
Either way there was one thing the elder Winchester was sure of, whoever had done this to him had better not have laid a single finger on his baby brother or there was going to be hell to pay.
TBC
