There But For Grace
Chapter Eleven
Episode 11 – Scarecrow
Grace was half way to waking, when the ring tone of Dean's phone sounded in the darkness of the motel room. She had been debating whether she could be bothered to wake up fully, or whether it would be better to lie there on the brink of consciousness, contemplating the ceiling, safe in the knowledge that, whatever had happened while she had been sleeping, it couldn't have been that bad because she could hear both Sam and Dean in the room with her.
Dean didn't stir as his phone rang on, not even when Sam called to him. His brother sighed and struggled up on his elbow, reaching out for the phone.
"Hello?"
In the darkness, Grace saw Sam sit up suddenly.
"Dad? Are you hurt?"
That propelled Grace fully into wakefulness and she sat up as well, leaning towards Sam as if it would help her hear John's half of the conversation.
"We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were, if you were ok," Sam's voice was accusatory, with just the slightest edge of relief.
Grace reached over Dean to turn on the bedside lamp, wanting to be able to see Sam's expression. As she moved back Dean turned over as he woke up, frowning up at her for a moment before beginning to sit up.
"We're fine, all of us," Sam's tone was impatient as he responded to John's enquiries. "Dad, where are you?" There was a pause and then his voice rose in anger. "What? Why not?"
"Is that Dad?" Dean demanded, swinging his legs down onto the floor.
Sam ignored him. "You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mom." His expression was a mix of shock and anger and eagerness for information. "A demon? Your know for sure?"
"A demon? What's he saying?" Dean slid forward further still and Grace shifted over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed.
There was silence for a moment and Sam's expression changed suddenly to grief before returning quickly to impatient.
"You know where it is?" He paused a moment, waiting for confirmation of his assumption and then demanded, "Let us help." There was another pause and he spoke again, "Why not?" Sam sounded outraged and much younger than he was, reverting to a petulant child as he spoke to his father for the first time in years.
Dean held out an imperative hand to his brother. "Give me the phone."
Sam moved out of Dean's range. "Names? What names, Dad – talk to me, tell me what's going on."
It was clear that John was planning on sharing less than no information with his sons.
"No. Alright?" Sam said down the phone, his voice rising and full of emotion. "No way."
"Give me the phone," Dean demanded again, moving forward to grab it, Sam ducking out of his way, still listening to John at the other end of the line. Grace shifted until her hands were tucked under her legs, watching Sam worriedly.
When John paused, Sam opened his mouth to protest again but Dean took the phone from him before he could speak.
"Dad, it's me. Where are you?" there was concern clear in Dean's voice and it was obvious he wanted information as much as Sam did. As John talked, however, Dean's face took on a closed expression and his lips compressed together. "Yes, sir," he shifted towards the bedside table and picked up a pen, testing it on the paper the motel provided. "Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?"
Grace stopped watching him. He was no longer in charge, but subordinate to John once more. Sam and Dean had been trying to find their father for months, when he had disappeared it had scared Dean so much that he had gone to get Sam from Stanford, something he had promised never to do. And now, when John finally got in contact with his sons, they were prevented from asking questions, not allowed to know where he was or help with the mission that had overshadowed their entire lives.
She glanced at Sam; he was looking angry still, and hurt. Annoyed that he wouldn't be able to help fight the thing that had been the cause of so much misery in his life. Upset that within moments things were back to how they had been before he had left for Stanford, his father refusing to listen to him and Dean following every order John gave them and embodying the role of perfect soldier.
Grace sighed and got to her feet, heading towards the bathroom and a quick shower. She knew that if John was sending them information they would be on the road before very long.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Grace wasn't asleep where she sat in the back of the car as they drove towards Indiana, but she had tuned out the discussion the boys were having about the job their Dad had sent them. She was busy thinking about John, allowing herself to fully feel the relief that came with knowing that he was ok, the knowledge that immediately made her feel better, but also accepting the nagging worry that with his reintroduction into their lives would come problems.
He still hadn't seen Sam, not since they had fought before Sam had slammed his way out of his father and brother's lives to go to college. And one brief conversation on the phone had been enough for Dean to fall back into soldier routine, not the superficially light-hearted, cheeky, caring companion she had been getting used to.
She wanted, absolutely and definitely, to find John. Wanted him to be safe and well and with his sons again, but she was worried about what it would do to them, the pressure it would put on their reforged friendship.
The sudden sensation of the Impala pulling off the road, snapped Grace from her musings. She looked up in confusion and saw that Sam had brought them to a stop in the lay by.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked him, as surprised as Grace.
"We're not going to Indiana." Sam stated resolutely, hands still planted at a firm ten to two on the steering wheel.
Grace frowned. "We're not?" she asked, catching his eye in the rear view mirror.
"No," he replied, mouth in a firm line. "We're going to California," He transferred his gaze to his brother. "Dad called from a payphone, Sacramento area code."
Dean sighed. "Sam – " he began but his little brother cut him off before he could get any further.
"Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be there. We've gotta help." Sam exclaimed earnestly.
"Dad, doesn't want out help," Dean pointed out, raising his eyebrows at his brother.
Sam regarded him for a moment. "I don't care."
Dean twisted around in his seat to face Sam fully. "He's given us an order." He said forcefully.
Sam shook his head. "I don't care," he repeated firmly. "We don't always have to do what he says."
And it was this that Grace had been worrying about, though she hadn't thought it would surface so soon. She knew, from things the boys had let slip, but more from what the Winchesters hadn't said, that family relations were strained to say the least. That Sam's departure for college had ripped their unit apart, had left John angry, heart-broken and silent, and Dean torn and struggling to understand. She also knew that even before that decisive event there had been fights and friction, tension between the three men that lived and worked together.
John would have been trying to protect Sam. Dean as well, but Dean was the oldest and always had to have more information so he could look after Sammy and keep him from danger. Sam had never understood that; saw it as his father and brother treating him like the child he no longer was.
It didn't help that Sam's hunting had never been as instinctual as Dean's, not so ingrained and not so needed, but also more emotional, more personal, as could clearly be seen in his reasoning for revenge while Dean insisted on following orders.
"I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man," Sam was saying, staring at his brother with incredulity. "I mean, it's like you don't even question him."
"Yeah, it's called being a good son," Dean bit out, losing patience with Sam's arguments.
Silence fell abruptly in the car and Grace looked from one brother to the other, knowing that that was a line that shouldn't have been crossed.
"Look – " she began, hoping that she might be able to calm them down, but before she got any further, Sam yanked open his door and got out of the car. "Sam!" she called after him before seeing Dean getting out as well. "Dean!" Neither responded, she sighed. "Terrific."
Struggling across the back seat, she opened the door and followed them round to the back of the Impala to see Sam grabbing his bags from the trunk with Dean standing over him, fury in his expression.
"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" he told, rather than asked, his brother. "You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks."
Sam straightened up. "That's what you really think?"
"Yes, it is," Dean replied belligerently, not able to back down.
"No, it isn't," Grace contradicted him. "Both of you just calm down and get the hell back in the car."
They both ignored her completely.
"Well," Sam said, shouldering his backpack. "This selfish bastard is going to California." And with the words he began to walk back down the road the way they had come.
"Come on, you're not serious." Dean said, staring after him.
"I am serious." Sam called back over his shoulder.
"It's the middle of the night!" Dean exclaimed. "Hey, I'm taking off," he pointed a finger at Sam's retreating back. "I will leave your ass, you hear me?"
Sam turned and Grace relaxed for a moment, thinking that he would come back.
Sam sighed and said softly, "That's what I want you to do."
Silence fell and the two brothers stared at each other, gauging the other's determination, wondering whether they could call the other's bluff.
Finally Dean spoke. "Goodbye, Sam," he said coldly and slammed the trunk of the car shut, striding round to the driver's door. "Grace, get in the car."
She turned to look at him, then back at Sam. "You can't do this. Sam, get back in the car, Dean don't be so stupid!" she was the only one shouting now, but she could feel hysteria rising inside her, they shouldn't be splitting up like this, they should stick together.
"Bye, Grace." Sam said softly, giving her a small smile.
"Grace, get in the freaking car or I swear to god – "
Dean wasn't quite as in control of his emotions as he would have them believe. He swung himself into the car, slammed the door and gunned the engine.
Grace gave Sam one last look before moving round to the passenger door. She was barely inside the car before Dean pulled away, leaving Sam to get smaller in the rear view mirror.
She was able to hold a silence for a minute before she turned to Dean.
"We can't just leave him."
"Just did," he replied shortly. After a moment, he glanced across to find her still staring at him. "It's his choice, Grace, I can't change that."
"You don't think we should go to California?"
"No. Dad gave us an order. It's our job to follow through, save people's lives."
She nodded sadly, turning to look out of the windscreen at the dark night outside that was just beginning to rain. She knew that, knew that's what he believed. He glanced at her profile before looking quickly away and back at the road.
"I'm sorry." He said gruffly after a moment.
Grace turned to look at him in surprise. "For what?"
"For – " he lifted a hand from the steering wheel and gestured with it. "You know."
Grace frowned, she wasn't sure that she did. Dean was looking awkward, however, and as if he really did not want to talk about this anymore, so she let it drop. His brother had just walked out on him, again, that gave him license to be a bit vague or silent if he wanted to be for a while. She just prayed Sam would be back, hopefully before something happened. Dean shouldn't be on his own and she wasn't much of a help, apart from as a warm body to fill the passenger seat.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Grace woke up some time the next day, some time about late afternoon. They were driving in the car again, apparently Dean hadn't wanted to leave her in a random motel or, as was equally possible, he didn't want to be by himself on this, even if she was asleep.
Taking in what she could make out of their surroundings and shifting up into a more comfortable sitting position, she tuned into the conversation Dean was having on the phone.
"Yeah, I'm tellin' you. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun Town."
Indiana – they had made it there then, and apparently whatever Dean had found wasn't particularly pleasant.
"No. I can cope without you, you know."
It was Sam on the phone then. That was good. Grace had been afraid that Sam leaving, again, would lead to another estrangement between the brothers, but here they were happily talking about a case that apparently involved apple pie and a pagan god slash scarecrow. She was going to climb over the seat into the front of the car when the conversation took a more serious tone.
"I'm not hinting anything. Actually, uh – I want you to know… I mean, don't think…"
It didn't take much imagination for Grace to realize that when Dean paused, Sam was managing to actually articulate his apology on the other end of the line.
Dean sighed lightly in relief. "Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life."
Grace bit her lip, attempting as unobtrusively as possible to watch Dean's expression while Sam was speaking, trying to gauge what the younger brother was saying.
"You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have." The words calm haltingly, but it was clearly something Dean had been thinking about for a while, something that he had wanted to say. "Hell, I wish I – . Anyway – I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."
That had almost been an admission to Dean wanting to stand up to their father, and tell him he was wrong, and that his family was more important than any demon, great or small.
Dean swallowed convulsively, overcoming the slight lump in his throat. "Say you'll look after yourself."
Grace realized that the conversation was coming to an end and climbed into the front of the Impala, Dean shot her a look as she settled next to him.
"Grace has woken up, you want a word?" He paused for a moment as Sam replied. "Ok, call me when you find Dad."
Silently he held the phone out to her and she took it, settling to look out of the window to give some illusion of privacy.
"Hey, Sammy."
"Hey, Grace," his voice was tired, sad, but she thought she could hear a smile in his tone. "How're you doing?"
"Not too bad. Haven't been caught by the scarecrow that is apparently roaming around. How are you?"
"Good, I'm just waiting for a bus."
"Oh, right."
They were both silent for a while, neither quite being able to articulate what they wanted to say and lacking the ability to fall back on something innocuous like the facts of a case.
Sam finally spoke. "I better get going."
"Ok. I miss you Sam."
He definitely smiled that time. "I miss you too, Grace. Talk to you soon."
"Bye."
Grace hung up slowly, taking her time before turning from the window and handing the phone back to Dean.
"You ok?" he asked after a while.
"Yeah," she took a breath and turned to him fully, putting it behind her. "How's the case going?"
"Frigging fantastic. This crazy town is sacrificing couples to a pagan god, dressed up as a scarecrow, so they can make the world's best apple pie."
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Grace was practically bouncing as she walked down the corridors of the community college next to Dean.
"This is awesome," she declared, looking around the corridors with interest. "I never get to do this bit."
"Yeah, well, keep calm there, Zebedee," Dean paused before a door. "I'll do the talking alright?"
"Sure."
He knocked and the door was opened by an archetypal professor type.
Grace was as good as her word and kept quiet as Dean and the professor talked pagan gods, specifically Norse ones. When the professor brought out a book, however, she couldn't help going to look over their shoulders. As Dean pointed to a picture in the book, she finally got a look at what they were up against.
"Wait, wait. What's that one?"
Grace craned her neck to get a closer look and saw a line drawing of what appeared to be scarecrow, suspended in a field and surrounded by farmers.
"Oh, that's not a woods god, per se," the professor half protested.
"Its creepy looking," Grace commented disapprovingly.
"The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity," Dean read aloud from the book. "Keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female."
He paused, studying the picture, and Grace had to refrain from sending him a significant look. All the people who had gone missing had been couples.
"It's energy springs from a sacred tree?" Dean looked towards the professor for confirmation.
"Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic."
Dean looked at him speculatively. "So, what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?"
The professor stared at him for a moment before laughing. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing."
Dean quickly smiled. "Oh, of course. Yeah. You're right. Listen, thank you very much." He reached out a hand and the professor shook it.
"Glad I could help," the professor replied, turning to Grace who also held out her hand and gave him a wide smile.
Dean pulled open the classroom door for them to leave, still glancing over his shoulder. As he turned towards the corridor, he discovered Burkitsville's sheriff standing in the doorway.
Before he could react, however, the Sheriff brought down the end of his rifle hard across his head. Dean dropped to the ground, immediately unconscious. Grace had barely enough time to register what had happened when something heavy hit her on the head from behind and the blinding pain it left was quickly succeeded by darkness.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
She came to, who knows how many hours later, to find herself in a dark room. The smell of damp and feel of claustrophobia indicated it was some sort of underground cellar.
Moving her hands cautiously along the ground she was sitting on, Grace attempted to find something that would give her some kind of clue as to where she was and what she was doing there. Her fingertips brushed against something made of cold glass and it fell over, the sound of it smashing echoing about the room.
"Grace?"
Dean's voice sounded abruptly out of the darkness.
"Dean? Where are you?"
"Here. Careful when you stand up, there's a low ceiling."
His tone of voice indicated that this knowledge had been gained via painful experience. Grace got unsteadily to her feet, knocking over several bottles in the process.
"I'm over here."
She held out her hands, hoping to stop herself from bashing into anything and moved carefully forward. For a minute she was isolated in the pitch-blackness, but then strong hands grasped hold of her arms above the elbow and Dean was pulling her towards him.
"Hey, are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You?"
"Peachey," he took one hand from her arm and turned from her, apparently trying to make out some of the cellar.
"So – I take it we're now the sacrifice."
"Yeah, seems that way. Better than being shot – it's, I don't know, classier, I guess?"
"Lucky us."
No matter how hard Grace strained her eyes she could make out very little of their surroundings and absolutely nothing of any use.
"Are we gonna try and find that tree?"
"Yep, that's the plan," he looked down at her. "I don't reckon they're gonna let us just wander round the orchard, though."
"No, that'd be probably too much to hope."
With one hand still grasping hold of Dean's arm, Grace used her other to grope her way forward until she found the stairs up to the entrance and sat down on the bottom step.
Some time passed in the dark, neither of them being able to come up with anything like a good plan. Dean's final suggestions that they just wing it wasn't particularly reassuring.
When the cellar doors creaked open, the streaming sunlight that poured through them momentarily blinded Dean and Grace and they both raised hands to try and shade their eyes.
"It's time." One of the towns people looking down on them announced, an older woman who, if Grace had seen her on the street, appeared to be perfectly innocuous.
She glanced across at Dean and they exchanged looks as two men came down the stairs to take them. This didn't look good.
And it didn't get much better. When they reached the orchard, Dean and Grace were bound to adjacent trees with very little chance of getting out of their bindings. Dean looked up and glared at the man was tightening the rope around his chest.
"How many people have you killed, Sheriff?" he demanded. "How much blood is on your hands?"
"We don't kill them," the Sheriff replied, allowing himself to be drawn into conversation.
"No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden? Clothes have you buried?"
The Sheriff stared down out him for a moment before walking away without answering. Grace turned her attention to the man tying her ropes. He looked kind, he really did, and there were deep crinkles around his eye, indicating how often he smiled.
"Please," she said quietly, making sure to look him straight in the eye. "Please, just let us go."
He met her gaze and Grace thought for a moment that they stood a chance. Then he blinked and looked away.
"I'm sorry," he told her.
As he drew back, the other towns people began to walk away as well, wanting to get to the safety outside the orchard's limits.
"I hope you're apple pie is freaking worth it!" Dean yelled after their retreating backs.
Grace arched her back against the trunk of the tree, hoping to get the ropes to give a little, but they were tied to tightly and nothing she did had any effect on them. She sighed and looked over at Dean who was fighting his own bonds.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked him, not particularly hopeful that he actually had one.
"I'm working on it," he replied, looking around the orchard for some flash of inspiration.
"Well, take your time," Grace told him sarcastically. "I haven't got anywhere to be."
"Yeah, thanks, I will do."
A couple of hours later the last of the sun's light was fading from the sky and they were running out of time.
"How's that plan coming, Han Solo?" Grace asked, rolling her head to the side to get a look at Dean.
"I'm workin' on it, thanks, your worshipfulness."
Grace smirked at the reference and went back to trying to pull her hands out of the rope. Her wrists were sore and covered in friction burns and she had got precisely no where.
"Can you see?" Dean asked, as he struggled to look behind him.
"What?" Grace asked, doing the same.
"The scarecrow, is it moving yet?"
Grace craned her head still further. "I can't see," She told him, struggling round as far as was physically possible. Suddenly she caught sight of a shadow moving through the trees towards them. "Oh my god," she groaned, redoubling her efforts against the rope and bruising her skin still further.
As they both struggled frantically, the figure emerged from the trees and into the light of the moon.
"Dean?"
They twisted round and saw Sam standing there.
"Oh, Sam," Grace sighed and she let her head fall back against the tree trunk as her heart rate slowed.
"I take everything back I said," Dean breathed in relief. "I'm so happy to see you. Come on."
He gestured to his wrists and Sam began untying them as quickly as possible.
"How'd you get here?"
Sam shot him a guilty glance before returning his attention to the knots. "I, uh – I stole a car."
Dean laughed. "That's my boy!" he exclaimed, struggling to his feet as Sam went to release Grace. "And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."
Sam looked up in confusion. "What scarecrow?" he asked.
Dean came to stand beside him and Grace grabbed onto his arm to help herself get to her feet.
They all stared through the trees to the cross where the scarecrow had been hanging. It was empty.
They exchanged looks before, almost as one, they turned on the heels and began sprinting for the exit.
"Alright," Sam called over the sound of their pounding footsteps. "Now, this sacred tree you're talking about – "
"It's the source of its power," Dean told him, darting a look over his shoulder in case they were being followed.
"So let's find it and burn it."
Dean shook his head. "Nah, in the morning. Let's just shag ass before Leather Face catches up."
The other two had no arguments against that plan and they doubled their pace to get out of the orchard. As the reached a clearing, however, they were pulled up short by the sight of a large group of the towns people, most bearing some sort of weapon, blocking their path.
"This way!" Dean called and they turned in the other direction to find that blocked as well. They were trapped.
"Oh god," Grace groaned as the three of them moved closer together.
"It'll be over quickly," one of the men said, the one Grace had tried to reason with earlier. "I promise."
"Just let us go, please," she begged, as Sam and Dean kept their eyes peeled for the Scarecrow.
The man shook his head. "There has to be a sacrifice," he explained. "You have to – "
Before he could get any further, however, there was the sickening sound of a sharp blade through flesh and the Scarecrow's sickle appeared from his stomach.
His wife screamed, loudly and piercingly, before the blade around her throat cut it off, and Grace turned quickly away before she saw anything else.
The rest of the townspeople ran at the sight, fearing for their own lives.
"Come on, let's go," Dean instructed and the three of them also began to run for the exit.
A sudden noise, like a snapping twig, made them all freeze and turn, but there was nothing there. The scarecrow and its victims had completely disappeared.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
The next morning, Sam and Dean went back to the orchard and torched the sacred tree, ending the pagan god's reign and effectively destroying the town.
Grace was left in the back seat of the Impala, sound asleep after the events of the past few days and with livid cuts and bruises about her wrists to show for it.
She definitely wouldn't be so excited next time she was involved in a hunt, especially any that involved apples or pagan gods or fugly scarecrows.
A/N: This one's much longer and Grace actually gets involved in a hunt! Thinking about the story line of the original episode it made sense for me to put her in there. I don't know if I even like this chapter but it took me long enough to finish so I thought I may as well put it up. Let me know what you think.
Also I've written some of Grace's very own story line which will hopefully be interesting and am planning on interspersing it with episodes...
Oh yeah, Sam and Dean, arguing - not good. I purposely made it so Grace couldn't just fill in Sammy's role because then it would be like he wasn't needed. Hope it doesn't make her annoying!