10
Tabris reappeared at the warehouse, and shoved Duke toward Kirk and Jordan.
"See if you can keep better track of him this time," he snarled. "Get him ready—we'll begin again with the injections shortly."
"No," Duke protested, trying to wrest away from them, but failed.
"Welcome back, Crocker," Kirk sneered, forcing him into something that resembled a dentist's chair, only less welcoming. "We missed you."
"I bet," Duke muttered as Jordan fastened the straps around his wrists and chest as Kirk held him down.
"You should be grateful to Tabris for restoring you; it's a great honor he's bestowing on you," Reverend Driscoll intoned, approaching Duke.
"Then you do it," Duke shot back.
"I would gladly do so if I could," the Rev said. "I told you that your line was special, Duke," he continued, pointing at him. "You've been chosen for this most holy mission—and you are going to fulfill it."
"Never," Duke answered through gritted teeth. "I would never hurt Paige or Audrey for anything."
"We shall see," Tabris said, his tone neutral. "However, allowing you to retain your memories of your previous existence has proven to be a mistake-one that I shall soon remedy."
"So what's this plan you have that we're probably not going to like?" Dean questioned.
"I found a spell that we might can use to weaken Tabris' hold on your friend," Rowena began. "The problem is that it requires two witches to perform it."
"Can't one of us read the spell with you?" Sam said.
"No—it's got to be a practicing witch," Rowena said. "I have a great deal of power, but I can't split meself inta two witches."
"Trust me, Rowena, one of you is more than enough," Dean cracked. "Great—you know of any witches that would be willing to help, or have you turned all your competition into frogs by now?"
"I never turned anyone into a frog," Rowena protested. "I might've turned one into a hamster perhaps, but never a frog."
"Wait," Nathan spoke. "I—might know of someone. Dwight, do you remember the name of that woman who helped out during the Fog Shroud? She was an herbalist—a hedgeitch, she called herself?"
"A hedge witch," Rowena said, pleasantly surprised. "I thought I felt a little thrum of power somewhere towards the woods."
"Alice Morgan," Dwight remembered. "The Rev's people gave her some trouble a few years back, claimed she was sacrificing animals out there, that she was doing black magic."
"Alice isn't a black magic witch," Nathan protested.
"That you know of," Dean pointed out.
"She's an herbalist—grows herbs, puts together medicinal teas, makes little bags of stuff for good luck, things like that," Paige said. "She says she doesn't like to do curses because they have a way of coming back on you."
"Aye, she's right there—if you don't manage 'em properly, curses can double back on ye," Rowena replied. "So who's going to go and fetch the darling girl to help us out?"
"Would she, you think?" Sam said. "Paige, you seem to know her."
"I see her around Haven sometimes, we don't exactly hang out or anything," Paige protested mildly. "She is very reclusive."
"Yeah, we nearly had to drag her into town during the Shroud so she wouldn't get killed by the dark," Dwight remarked.
"What Shroud?" Dean questioned. "And I'm almost afraid to ask about the dark killing people."
"When Duke released all the Troubles, one guy was so afraid for his family, he created an entire fog around the whole town," Nathan said. "No one could leave or enter—we literally disappeared off the map."
"And the dark was one guy's anger—the dark was killing people," Dwight put in. "So when we say we really don't need the Troubles back again, we're not kidding."
"I get it—Haven seems like a nice place, but I wouldn't want to be trapped here forever," Dean said. "All right—Rowena, Dwight and I are going to go get this Alice chick—Sammy, you and Cas hold the fort here. We'll be back as soon as we can."
"Be careful, Dean," Cas said as they departed.
Dwight led the way, while Dean and Rowena followed closely behind in the Impala.
They reached Haven's city limits, and the woods began to grow thicker and denser, and Dean noted a sign as they passed.
"Ravenswood, Posted, Private Property," he read aloud, and also noticed Rowena shift in her seat.
He gave her a funny look. "Got ants in your pants?" he questioned.
"No—but this Alice Morgan's got a great deal more power than she's let on to these people," Rowena said. "Ye can't feel that? These woods are radiatin' with her power."
"No, I don't," Dean answered crossly. But now that she mentioned it, he did have that prickly feeling at the back of his neck, and he made a note to get out his pistol with the witch-killer bullets just in case. "Is she evil, Rowena?"
"No, she's not evil," Rowena replied. "She's more hurt and angry, I think. She knows we're comin', that much is for certain, no doubt we set off all sorts of alarm bells drivin' past that marker," she gestured back toward the road.
"What marker?"
"Ye didna see that? Sometimes yer so blind, Dean Winchester," Rowena protested. "That dead tree in the woods just off the road was covered in sigil carvings!"
She gasped suddenly, and then chuckled and clapped her hands.
"What's so funny?" Dean asked.
"You'll find out in a moment," Rowena said mysteriously as Dwight came to a stop outside of a wood fence and made his way over to a weather-aged bell with a depiction of a raven atop it.
Dean surveyed the house. It was painted in a dark grey, and would be nearly invisible in the woods; save for its purple door and trim. Well-kept lush vegetation grew around the property, along with an herbal garden off to one side, and he could hear the clucking of chickens from somewhere behind the house.
"Ye know what they say about purple doors," Rowena said slyly.
"That a witch lives in the house," Dean answered. "But most real witches don't advertise it."
The door opened, and a dark-haired woman emerged from the house, clad in a wraparound black sweater coat to ward against the chill. She was thirtyish, slender, olive-skinned, and fairly attractive, with a full mouth and grey eyes that surveyed her guests at the gate for a moment before she spoke.
"Dwight," she greeted. "Along with some rather interesting companions," she observed Dean and Rowena.
"Dean Winchester and Rowena MacLeod," Dwight introduced them.
"Permission ta cross," Rowena called aloud. "My mission be a peaceful one, Sister."
"Rowena MacLeod," Alice said the timbre of her voice rich and pleasant. "Are the events unfolding in Haven your doing?"
"Wait-you know Rowena?" Dean questioned.
"Every witch knows the name Rowena MacLeod," Alice replied, and Dean could not help but notice the tiny smile crinkling at the corner of Rowena's mouth.
"Not mine," Rowena answered. "In fact, we came to speak with ye about them."
"So you know what's going on?" Dwight asked.
"I do. Come, please," Alice gestured and went back inside her home.
Dean surreptitiously checked his pistol and tucked it into the back of his jeans, covering it with his jacket as Dwight opened the gate and allowed them inside.
"You two decide to start throwin' down, give us the high sign and we'll get out the way," Dean mumbled to Rowena.
"I wouldna dream of it," Rowena answered, her eyes on the move around the property and the house, as though she were searching for something, and Dean felt his suspicions growing.
Inside, the house reminded him much of Bobby's place—warm and homey, yet loaded down in occult ephemera. He could see the sigils, the carvings disguised as artwork, and he realized what Rowena had been chuckling about.
"You're a Hunter," Dean said.
"Only in this area," Alice replied. "It's my intent to see that what happened in Haven doesn't happen again. So far I have been successful—but who or whatever is causing what's happening now is out of my abilities."
"Alice, you said you knew about the events—the resurrections—of people around Haven," Dwight put in.
Alice nodded her gray eyes on him. "Yes—one does notice when the dead are seen strolling about the townscape, and you're not the only one who sees them," she said drily. "I was passing Good Shepherd yesterday evening, and who should emerge from the church but the good Reverend Driscoll," she remarked.
"So you knew him when he was alive," Dean said.
"I do tend to remember people who tried to burn me out of my home," Alice answered evenly. She gazed at him. "So you are one of the famous Winchester brothers," she continued. "Do you know who's causing the havoc here?"
"An angel named Tabris," Dwight said.
"Angels?" Alice replied, surprised. "I would expect this from demons and evil spirits, but not angels."
"Then you don't know angels," Dean cracked. "He's been resurrecting people who died from the Troubles."
"So far, he's revived Driscoll, Jordan McKee, and Kirk Bowers," Dwight told her.
"Not exactly people I would have deemed worthy of resurrection," Alice commented, her face puzzled.
"He's also resurrected Duke Crocker—he's trying to convert him into some kind of hybrid angel," Dwight finished.
"Duke would definitely not be my first choice for angel material," Alice half-smiled. "But Crocker's moral character isn't why he revived him, is it? It's the magic in Duke's bloodline that he wanted. Haven relied heavily on the Crockers while the Troubles existed."
"We think so, yeah," Dean said.
"We think he's trying to resurrect the Troubles—something about them made people who died from them soul's stronger, somehow," Dwight stated.
"And people with Troubles' bodies would be stronger vessels for angels," Dean added. "He's also using blood magic."
"Make them better vessels for demons as well," Alice pointed out. "If he's using blood magic, he might as well advertise what he's doing in neon lights. I don't think this Tabris has thought this plan of his through very well."
"We've tried talking to him, but he's not listening—and our guy isn't strong enough to take him on," Dean said. "He's a higher-up angel than our guy is."
"But I think that if we work together, we can help put an end to this," Rowena told her, and took a scroll out of her coat, spreading it out on a nearby table.
Alice moved closer, her eyes moving over it.
"I've never done this one," she murmured.
"Nobody's done this one in 200 years," Rowena replied. "But as ye can see, it takes two witches ta perform it."
"Haven needs your help," Dwight said.
"And exactly why would I give Haven help?" Alice demanded. "I was oh-so-valuable because everyone thought I was Troubled, that my powers were because of the Troubles—only they weren't, were they?" she continued, blinking back angry tears. "And I still do for this town and I get treated like a pariah!"
"Hey, I get it," Dean said gently. "Hunting's a thankless job—normal people just go about their daily lives and have no idea of the crap we see in ours. Got no idea they're living next door to a literal monster who'd eat them or their kids, given half a chance. But we do the job anyway."
"Please, Alice—I know Haven hasn't exactly welcomed you with open arms, but we could really use your help," Dwight pleaded. "Tabris is doing something to Duke, and it's changing him. These guys know an angel, and he says that he'll never make Duke into an angel, because humans just aren't made to be angels."
"He's right there—this whole shtick that we all get wings and a harp when we die and go to Heaven is baloney," Alice said offhandedly, and Dean cracked a smile. "Angels are born, not made. However, I agree with you there, that he must be stopped. Very well—I will help you do the spell, Mistress Rowena. But it must be done here."
"Why?" Dwight asked. "Home turf advantage?"
"No," Rowena smiled. "Because she's protectin' somethin' Tabris wants very much ta find."
"And what would that be?" Dean questioned.
"A thin spot," Rowena answered, and Alice nodded agreement.
"Not just a thin spot—an open thinny," Alice said. "That is how we'll trap him."