Muddy Water Blues

When the Levees Break – A Supernatural Story Chapter 7

Dean broke the surface of the filthy water again, gasping desperately for air. Sam held on to him, using all his strength to keep both of them up above the rising flood. He could feel the powerful pull of the hands of the dead around his legs and body as they scrabbled and clawed at his clothes, determined to drag both Sam and Dean into a watery grave... The mud and slime clung to his face and clogged his mouth, choking him, making every breath he took taste of death and destruction. He gave one last yell of effort and managed to kick free from the grip of the phantom flood. At the same moment, he felt Dean slipping from his grasp and frantically grabbed out at his brother, hauling him back to the surface. Dean had lost consciousness and for one terrible moment, Sam thought he had succumbed to the floodwater. Dean's limp body floated to the surface, no longer in the grip of those terrible hands and Sam used the last of his strength to drag his brother through the water onto the steps of an abandoned house. He flipped Dean onto his side and hit him hard on the back. Filthy water flooded out of Dean's mouth and his body was wracked with a furious coughing fit as he fought for breath. Sam slumped down next to his brother, exhausted from the effort of saving them both from the floodwaters.

"Jesus, I HATE this damn place!" Dean hauled himself up onto his knees, spitting the last of the mud and water from his mouth. He suddenly looked at his brother. "Cath!" He staggered up onto his feet, his eyes scanning desperately for any sign of the woman. "Oh no…" The flood water had vanished as quickly as it had appeared and lying in the middle of the grass that bordered the levee wall was the still form of the Englishwoman. Dean started to run towards her, Sam only a couple of steps behind him. "Shit! Shit, shit SHIT!" Dean skidded to a stop beside the body of the woman. She lay face down in the mud, her red hair matted with weeds and slime. She wasn't breathing. Dean flipped her over onto her back and frantically started trying to resuscitate her. Sam dropped to his knees next to his brother, concern etched into his face. Suddenly, water poured from Cath's mouth and she gasped for air. Dean rolled her on to her side to stop the water from flooding back into her lungs as she coughed up the last of the levee water. Dean cradled the woman's head in his arms, pushing back the red hair from her face. Slowly, her eyes opened and Dean smiled down at her.

"Whoa, babes. You gave me quite a scare there." A faint smile flickered across Cath's lips.

"Damn. That was just nasty!" She struggled up into a sitting position, Dean still supporting her, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She glanced at Sam. "You OK, Sam?" Sam nodded. She glanced back at Dean. "You OK, sweetie?"

He grinned at her. "Oh, fine, babes. I smell like a goddamn toilet and I think I have a fish in my ear, but we're all alive, so hey! The day's looking up!" Cath laughed and patted his arm.

"Yeah, you know? I think a damn good hot shower is in order before we do anything else. Because, seriously? Dean, you do smell like a toilet!" Dean laughed and playfully batted her across the back of the head. But Sam also noticed how he still held on to her, still had his arms wrapped protectively around the woman. Cath breathed deeply and ran a hand through her matted hair. "Christ, that was a close call. Well, I guess we know first-hand what killed Mary and those others now, don't we?" Sam nodded.

"There's some powerful magic going on here, Cath. I mean, to be able to do something like that…"

"It takes more than some blonde wrinklin' her nose to do this, Sammy. This smacks of voodoo." Dean shuddered. "I hate that shit, man!"

………………….

The brothers had showered, changed and were checking and re-checking their weapons when Cath knocked. Dean opened the door and grinned at the woman. "Have we got some news for you, babes!" Cath grinned back at him.

"That sounds promising. Watch'ya got?" Sam held out a small square of card to the woman and Cath could see the writing on the back. The ink had run in the floodwater, but the outline of the message was still just visible. It was the card that had been left with the flowers by the levee wall. Cath took the sodden card from Sam and studied it.

"I checked out that florist's card and the shop is about three miles from here. The flowers were ordered by a Beverly Crane." Sam spun the laptop around and showed the website to Cath. Katrina's flowers. Ironic…

"Crane? Isn't that the surname of the kid who decided to drive into the levee?"

Sam nodded. "His sister."

Cath glanced at Sam. "Hmm. A sister who seems to have an extensive knowledge of plants used for ritual purposes. Got an address on her?"

"Yep."

"Then it may be a good time for you and Dean to go have a chat with her."

"And you?"

Cath smiled. Oh, I have a few little bits of business to sort out. To be honest with you, Sam, I'm not really in the mood for being nice. I've been half drowned by a phantom flood filled with nasty, grabby hands, I've been attacked by a second-rate demon more times than I'd care to remember and now, to add insult to injury, some son of a bitch has scratched my Land Rover, so frankly, I'm just about niced out." She tossed the card onto the table. "Call me when you have something." She turned and walked out of the door. Sam stared at his brother.

"Someone scratched her truck?"

Dean winced. "Dude, don't call it a truck. Seriously. She's kinda funny about that Land Rover."

Sam grinned at his brother. "What, like you are about the Impala?"

"That is so not the same!"

"Really?"

"You want me to slap you again, Sammy?"

Sam said nothing. He just laughed. Dean glowered at his brother, but inside he was relieved to know that their relationship was back on track. The fight they had had the previous night had hurt him deeply. He was also glad to see that Sam seemed to accept Cath's presence a little more now. Finally, they had a lead to follow up. And this time he was going to make damn sure that nothing happened to either of them…

…………………………

Cath rolled the Land Rover to a stop at the side of the track and killed the engine. She sat motionless, staring out of the windscreen at the expanse of devastation that still hadn't been cleared two years after the hurricane had smashed through the city. Jesus. These people had just been abandoned to their fate. Left to rot like so much garbage in the streets. No wonder there was such an all-enveloping sensation of rage and anger here. The streets were deserted, except for a couple of mangy looking black dogs scavenging in the refuse, looking for something to keep them alive for one more day. The dogs had heard the Land Rover pull up and their attention shifted. Two pairs of feral eyes focused on the big car, and they started to trot towards it. Cath studied the dogs as they loped towards her. She could sense the determination in them, the hunger, the desperate struggle to survive at any cost. These were once loving, family pets. Now, they had just been abandoned to their basic instinct to survive. They had reverted back to their true nature. Killers. They would be dangerous. Cath checked her Browning.

Even though she was expecting it, the frenzied snarling and barking as the first dog jumped up against the door made her jump. "Son of a bitch!" The dog was going crazy. Flecks of foam sprayed from its jaws as it barked and savaged the handle of the Land Rover. Its claws scrabbled at the window, scratching the toughened glass. A bang snapped Cath's attention to the front of the car. The second dog now stood, foursquare, on the hood, a low, threatening growl coming from its throat. Cath could see the razor-sharp teeth and the eyes… "Crap…" The eyes should have been a soft brown. They should have been…These eyes burned – burned with a hatred so intense that she knew the dogs had crossed over into madness. But there was something else. Something behind the madness that made her blood run cold. These dogs did have a master. But it was not a master you would meet taking these little puppies for a walk in the park or at an obedience class. They were his dogs now. Cath scowled at the dog. "Get the FUCK off my car, you overgrown Yorkie!"

"I thought you liked dogs, Cath." Cath spun around in her seat, the Browning already cocked and ready. The man sitting in the passenger seat turned his head and smiled slowly. He knew that the gun was useless against him. So did Cath. She lowered the gun. She knew she was trapped. But she had set the meeting up in the first place. She knew what to expect from this bastard. It was all part of the show…

"You know damn well I can't stand dogs. Always preferred cats, personally." She nodded at the snarling dog on the hood. "So who do I send the bill for the paint-job to?"

The man laughed, his yellow eyes filled with amusement. "You know, that's one of the things I've always liked about you, Cathy. Your sense of irony!"

"I'm English, you pratt. What do you expect?"

Again, he laughed. "Oh, Cathy! My little warrior!" He shifted himself in the seat, one arm stretching across the headrests, and smiled at the woman. "Now. You called me?"

Cath took a deep breath. She hated dealing with the demon, but she knew that he was as concerned about the past weeks' events as she was. She also knew that, however distasteful, it was probably going to be the only chance to keep herself and the Winchester brothers alive. And possibly gain a small advantage as well. "This little problem we have." The demon nodded. "Whose side are you on?"

"My own."

"Bollocks. I know damn well that things down your way are not exactly going to plan."

"You don't know the half of it, Cathy."

"OK, you call me that one more time, and…"

"And you'll what, exactly?" The smile vanished. Cath felt a wave of pain wash through her and she gripped the steering wheel in agony. The demon stroked her hair gently, enjoying the pain he was causing his mortal enemy. "Now, enough of this, my dear. Let me explain a couple of things, shall I? And I suggest you listen carefully, Colonel, unless you want to become my little hellhounds' next meal. You are only alive because I wish it. You and Dean. Personally, I would happily kill both of you, but there are those who see a use for both of you. So, I have to concede to their wishes. But know this. After all this is over, it all goes back to the way it was before, understand? Cathy, I will kill you. And Dean. And all the others of your kind. But now, your purpose in protecting Sam is more important. There is a war going on in Hell, Cathy. A war that threatens to destroy my realm and spill over into yours. And there are those in your realm that are helping my enemies." The demon shrugged. "What's the old saying? My enemy's enemy is my friend?" He laughed again. "We make unlikely allies, don't you think?" He looked at the raging dog. "Such a little sweetie, isn't he?" His attention shifted back to Cath. "The coven must be stopped, Cathy."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because they have the help of one who is more powerful than me. They've made damn sure that any of my kind cannot interfere in their 'business'. You, however, are mortal." There was that sickening smile again. "And I know how much you love to interfere in people's lives, Cathy. So here's the deal. You destroy the coven. And I let you live. For now."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"You want something else, Colonel?"

It was Cath's turn to smile. "Oh, yes. What's that expression you use? Something to sweeten the pot? I agree to deal with this coven and whatever nasty bastard they're working with, and you give me the Colt back. With ammo."

"Not an option."

Cath turned the key of the Land Rover and the engine growled into life. The dogs went crazy at the sound of the motor, the beast standing on the hood now snarling and barking furiously. "Then this conversation is over, arsehole." The engine spluttered and died.

"The conversation is over when I say it's over, Colonel!" There was just the tiniest hint of uncertainty in the voice of the demon. Cath picked up on it straight away. She turned to face him, a lazy smile on her face.

"Well, well, well! Do I detect a trace of worry in your voice there, mister oh-so-powerful? Things not going according to plan, are they?" The smile vanished. "You deal with me, demon, you know there are gonna be consequences. And if I'm going in after something that's more powerful than you, then I want some kind of guarantee. Like a weapon that actually works on your kind. I ain't gonna go in there and poke the damn thing with a stick!"

"You have your swords."

"I have a feeling the Colt would be more, um, how shall I put this, direct?" Her face was hard, uncompromising. The demon sighed and then smiled.

"OK, then Cathy, deal." He glanced at the dogs, who stopped their snarling, turned and trotted off into the wreckage of the neighbourhood. Cath winced as the claws of the dog that had been standing on the hood scraped at the paint on its way down. "You drive a hard bargain, Colonel. It's no wonder you have the reputation you do." The yellow eyes focused on her one more time and she felt the sheer evil radiating from them. "But remember this, my little warrior. Once all this is over, all bets are off. I will come after you and Dean. And the others. You are only alive because it serves my purpose. Once that is fulfilled, I will have both of you." He leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. "And you will both feel my wrath, Colonel." The demon vanished and lying on the passenger seat of the Land Rover was the Colt. Cath picked up the heavy gun and checked the chambers. Every one housed a bullet. On the base of each bullet was a pentangle. The demon was as good as his word. Cath laughed long and loud.

"Feel my wrath? Jesus, what are you, numb-nut? The dreaded demon of clichés?"

……………………..

Dean leaned on the roof of the car. "You sure this is the right address?"

Sam checked the slip of paper again and nodded. "Positive."

"Because the last time you took us to an address you were positive about, it kinda didn't pan out too well."

"Dean, this is the right address!"

Dean looked again at the house. The perfectly manicured garden led up to a huge mansion, its white paintwork gleaming in the sun. It looked like something out of 'Gone with the Wind'. Dean shook his head. "This just feels weird, Sammy. I mean, these people are loaded! What the hell would her kid brother be doin' boosting cars?"

Sam shrugged. " I don't know. Perhaps he was trying to prove himself? You know? Rebel against his upbringing?"

Dean grinned. "What, you mean like you did?" He saw the hurt look on his brother's face and instantly regretted the comment. He held his hands up. "Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Sam ignored the apology and walked around to his brother. Dean tensed. The look on his brother's face was the same as it had been a couple of nights ago. Sam stared silently at Dean, trying to control his anger. "We got a job to do, Dean. Let's focus on that, shall we?" He turned and started to walk up the gravel pathway. Dean shook his head and followed his brother.

Sam pressed the doorbell. Somewhere inside, melodious chimes sounded, followed by the echoing tapping of feet. A maid in a crisp white apron and bonnet opened the door. "Can I help you?"

Sam gave her a warm smile. "Hi, is Beverly Crane available, please?"

"Miss Beverly is not receiving visitors."

Dean stepped forward, a cold look in his eyes. Nice cop, nasty cop time… "Ma'am, I don't think my partner made himself clear." He flipped open his wallet. "FBI. Is Miss Crane available now?" The demeanour of the woman changed and she held the door open.

"Please, come in." The two brothers walked into a hallway that was the size of most people's homes. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, the breeze making the crystals tinkle like bells. "I'll just see if Miss Beverly is available." The maid hurried off, leaving the brothers alone. Dean let out a low whistle. "Whoa. How the other half live, aih?" Sam spun around, his eyes dark.

"What the hell did you pull that FBI crap for, Dean?"

"Nice wasn't getting us anywhere, bro."

"So how do we explain why the FBI are interested in her brother's death, exactly?"

"I don't know! I was winging it, OK?"

"Yeah? Good call, Dean!" Dean looked puzzled.

"Dude, what is with you?"

"Can I help you?" The voice was melodious and clear. Beverly was stunning, crystal clear blue eyes and almost white blonde hair tumbling in ringlets down her back. It was all Dean could do to stop himself from grinning like an idiot at the woman, but he flipped open his wallet again and flashed his fake ID.

"I hope you can, ma'am. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Why are the FBI interested in my brother's death?"

Sam smiled. "We have to investigate any death that involves police officers, ma'am. And twelve other people died that night. Not just your brother. Although I am sorry for your loss." The woman looked like she was about to burst into tears, but managed to compose herself.

"Then you'd better come in." She turned to the maid. "Martha, could we have some coffee please for these gentlemen?" The maid bobbed and hurried off. Beverly led the brothers into an opulent sitting room crammed full of antiques and expensive looking furniture. "Please, sit down." Dean and Sam sat awkwardly on the brocade sofa as the maid bustled in with a tray of cups and a pot of coffee. The cups were finest bone china. Beverly waited until Martha had left and poured out the coffee. "So. You wanted to ask me some questions."

Sam picked up the cup and saucer and took a sip of coffee. "Perhaps you could tell us what your brother was doing in that stolen car, Miss Crane?"

"Bobby was always a bit wild. He could have had any car he wanted, but he just seemed to want to play at being some kind of bad boy, you know? Daddy had threatened to send him to military camp if he got into trouble again, but Bobby never took him seriously. Now…" Her eyes filled with tears. She ripped a tissue from a box on the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes. Sam looked sympathetically at the girl. She was obviously grieving for her brother. Dean, however, was running an expert eye around the room. Something didn't seem right…

He stood up and walked over to a painting. "You and Bobby?"

Beverly nodded. "Daddy had it painted for Bobby's eighteenth birthday. Bobby always hated it."

Dean studied the painting closely, his eye drawn to the image of a pendent around Beverly's neck. "That's an interesting necklace, Beverly. What is it?"

Beverly glanced up at Dean, her eyes hardening. "It's just a necklace, Agent…?"

"Gibbs. Special Agent Gibbs."

"Special Agent Gibbs. Why are you so interested?"

"Oh, it's a bit of a hobby of mine. Occult imagery." Dean grinned darkly. "I've worked on a few, how can I put this, strange cases over the past couple of years. Did you know this is a Zoroastrian symbol?"

Beverly visibly stiffened. "No. I didn't. Now I think if you have any more questions, you should really talk to my father. He'll be back from the courthouse very soon. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment." She stood up and rang a bell. As if by magic, Martha appeared. "Show these gentlemen out, Martha." Beverly turned and walked stiffly out of the room. Martha followed the woman with her eyes and then turned to the brothers. Sam looked puzzled. The maid looked scared. What was she scared of?

"If you please, gentlemen?" Martha motioned towards the door and the two brothers walked out into the hallway. As they stepped through the door, Martha laid a hand on Dean's arm.

"What do you know about that symbol, Agent Gibbs?"

Dean grinned. "Listening at the keyhole, were you, Martha?"

"I'm serious! What do you know?" Dean could see the look of fear and urgency on the woman's face.

"Martha, the question is, what do you know?"

"I know you ain't FBI, buster! And I know you saw them symbols. Bad things bin happenin' in this house. Real bad things. That boy's death weren't no accident. He was frit to death. You wanna know what's goin' on here? You talk to Rory Bates. He'll tell you." The door slammed in Dean's face before he had the chance to ask Martha any more questions. He turned to Sam and raised an eyebrow.

"We got a name."

"Yeah. Who the hell is Rory Bates?" The brothers walked back to the Impala.

"Did you notice all the occult imagery in that room? Very subtle, but it was all there. Even the layout of the furniture. Clever. Very clever."

Sam pulled the door of the Impala open. "I think we may be getting close to the coven here, Dean. Martha was scared. She knows a lot more than she was letting on."

Dean nodded. "Let's get back and see what Cath's come up with."

From the window, Beverly watched the two men climb into an Impala and drive off. Definitely not feds. She cradled the phone in one hand, the other moving the curtain as she watched the car drive down the road. "No, I'm sure it was them. Though we may have a problem with Martha." Beverly stared at the door, her eyes changing from their normal piercing blue to a souless black. She smiled lazily. "Nono, nothing I can't deal with…"

………………………….

"I don't care, Dean, I think you're wrong. We try breaking into that place, we're gonna set every alarm in the local police station ringing within a second. The man is a High Court judge, for Christ's sake!" Sam pushed the key into the lock of the motel room door and turned the handle.

"Dude, we've broken into government facilities before now, why you so scared of a little house-breaking?"

"Because it's NOT a little house, Dean! It's the house of a…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. A High Court judge." He grinned. "Look on it as a challenge!" The brothers walked into the room and flicked on the light. Cath sat in a chair, one long leg draped over the arm, a beer in her hand.

"JESUS!"

"Evenin' boys!" She grinned and raised the beer bottle in salute.

"Christ, Cath, you scared the hell outta me!" Dean grinned at her and deftly caught the bottle she threw to him. He spun the cap off and saluted her back. Sam threw his jacket across the bed and graciously accepted a second bottle. "So. Had a good day, hun?"

Cath winked at Dean. "Oh, ya know. Up and down. But I brought you a little pressie." She pulled the Colt out of her belt and held it up. "Recognise this?"

Sam stood up and walked over to her, a look of disbelief on his face. Dean slowly put his beer down on the table, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Sam took the Colt from Cath and studied it.

"Where the hell did you get this?"

"Thought we might need a bit of an ace in the hole."

Sam's eyes flashed dangerously. "Where did you get it, Cath?" He stood over the woman, the Colt suddenly pointing straight at her. He cocked the gun.

Dean started forward. "Whoa! Sammy, hold on there…"

Sam edged the barrel closer, aiming it straight between Cath's eyes. "Where did you get the goddamn GUN, Cath?"

To be continued…