11

Sam counted to three and pulled the door open.

The sight that greeted them was unimaginably hideous; Sister Crotilde stood, milky-eyed and propped by some unnatural means before them. Her expression was the same as she wore in death, there was nothing behind her dead eyes that recognized anything around her. Her hands, bludgeoned from beating the rough old door, fell slackly to her sides, and her mouth hung open, as gasses of decomposition escaped from it in a fetid, hissing sigh. It was not her own spirit animating her failing form now, it was something else.

The brothers recoiled. Elieis stood in wide eyed shock, and Javier grimaced and pulled his shirt over his mouth and nose. Sam swiftly moved to shut the door against the horror, but Dean stopped him-

"Wait! See what it wants-" he said.

Eli began to mumble prayers, frantically beseeching the heavens to stop this hellish animation of the poor old woman's remains. Heaven turned a deaf ear. The four men stood in nauseated silence as the tiny, crooked corpse trembled and swayed before them. They tried not to breathe the stench and waited to see what the purpose of this terrible thing was.

The Sister's right arm rose again as she stood. It stretched straight out, pointing at Elieis. Her head lolled to one side, and fluid dribbled out of the slack mouth. The young priest stumbled back and covered his mouth, on the verge of vomiting. Sam and Dean stood at the ready, guns aimed at the apparition. Eli swallowed his rising bile and stepped forward again. "Why...why are you here?" he asked, voice quavering.

The stinking corpse said nothing. Eli looked around at his battered companions, and he clamped down on his fear for their sake. He stepped closer to the figure. "San Mateo, are you doing this thing? Are you here to tell me something?" he demanded, his voice more sure.

Again there was only silence from it. But the hand remained outstretched, the pointing finger unwavering. Eli inched closer, so that the hand was now almost touching his forehead.

"Don't!" Javier hissed in horror. "Elieis, it's the devil! Keep back!"

"No!" he murmured, shaking off Javier's restraining hand. "He's trying to speak to me.." He stepped now within its reach. The other hand of the poor nun rose now, and clutched at her thin, dishevelled hair. The dead fingers twisted in it, pulling until a clump of the fine white strands tore free. The hand holding it reached out and shook the result at Eli. Eli glanced with bewildered horror at Dean. Dean shook his head; he did not understand the gesture any more than Elieis did. But his finger tightened on the shotgun trigger, ready to fire.

The dead nun dropped the hair and shuffled jerkily toward the young priest. Javier was poised to spring to his defense, an iron frying pan clutched tight and held ready, but Eli held him back. He had to see what the saint was trying to say, no matter what happened. The Sister's left hand moved now and pointed to Dean. The body shuffled forward until the fingers brushed the amulet around his neck. He jerked away.

"No freaking way!" he growled, clutching the pendant and tucking it under his shirt. But the hand dropped away. It rose again to point to Elieis' chest now, at the place where his crucifix had lain. The cord hung empty, since he'd had to trade it for the dog. The gnarled old finger, like a knotted root, touched him. He shuddered but held his place. It pressed against him, the nail scratching a shape into his skin as he watched, transfixed. When it was done, an unseen force squeezed her torso, and the escaping air was released in a reedy shriek. It was the last sound she would ever make. Crotilde's body crumpled to the floor. Whatever power had animated it was gone, and her corpse slumped to a heap on the threshold. Nothing moved it again, and the men stood transfixed, watching it for several minutes, until it was clear that the strange event was over. Eli looked down at the image her nail had impressed into him. It was a cross...a simple cross. He covered his face and fled to the bathroom, where he wretched uncontrollably for some time.

Javier tore his gaze away from the body, looking to Dean for explanations. "What the hell was that? Was it really the saint moving her? Jesus Christus, this is sick...it's evil!"

Dean nudged the still form with his toe, thinking for several moments.. "No, I don't think this was evil at all... Gross, yeah, but not evil. I think Elieis is right; the old bastard was trying to say something through her. We just have to figure out what the hell he's talking about." He put the safety back on the gun and laid it down, sitting heavily at the table. "Guess we'd better deal with her, before she gets any worse. We should wrap her body at least, and put it outside in a shed or something, until family can come and collect it. It's already stinking up this joint!" he grimaced.

Elieis had returned. He apologized for being overwhelmed by what had happened. "The Sister has no family, no one will be coming to collect her. We must bury her ourselves. But we will have to inform the police, and about Lino as well. His wife will have to know." He sat at the table and poured a shot with a shaking hand. The others joined him.

"Well..." Sam sighed, "I guess we can safely assume that there's still some part of him that didn't get burned. We'll have to wait for the dog to pass whatever's left in his system."

Dean remembered the filthy beast asleep in his car. "Aw, crap-he oughta be awake by now! He'd better not have left any remains on my seat!" He got up and gingerly stepped over the old nun. "I'm gonna go check on him. Eli; get a sheet or something, we'll need to get that body out of your doorway. It's already bringing flies."

"I'll take care of it." Javier said grimly.

Sam followed Dean out to the car. They could hear the dog's unhappy and confused whining as they approached, and when it saw them, it launched itself at the half open window, leaving a smear of foamy saliva on the glass. Sam spoke soothingly to it, and it stopped it's aggressive lunging and cowered at the far side of the car, watching them in disoriented misery.

"Dean, go get something for him to eat. And some water. I'll keep talking to him."

Dean nodded and left him there, returning shortly with some cooked pork and a bowl. Sam carefully opened the door and waited, the dog stayed where it was, growling.

"How's he gonna eat? He's muzzled." Dean asked.

"I guess we'll just have to take it off."

"Oh yeah, there's a good plan! After you-" Dean snorted, stepping back.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Chicken! He's just a scrawny dog, it's not like it's a werewolf or something." He sat beside the animal, taking the offerings from Dean's hands. He let the dog smell the treat, then placed a morsel on the seat. Despite its fear, the dog shook with excitement; he'd never before been offered such a wealth. Sam murmured to it, reaching toward the makeshift muzzle, and loosening it. The dog shook it off immediately and growled, baring its teeth impressively. But it went back to the meat, sniffing, then snapping it up, all the while keeping a wary eye on Sam. Sam held another piece up. He could see the dog wasn't really aggressive, just terrified, and its hunger won over its fear. He held the second offering out to it. The dog reached forward and snarled, but it took it from Sam's fingers with surprising grace. Sam saw the thin tail wag slightly. He continued to sweet talk the dog, and after several more pieces it stopped its growling. He gave it water next, which it lapped at with frantic urgency, draining the bowl. "Good boy.." Sam repeated softly. He carefully reached to scratch its head, and the dog flattened, curling its lips again. Sam took a chance and touched it anyway. He felt the rigid posture melt as he began to scratch his head and ears. The dog leaned toward the attention shyly, and wagged a little more. He'd won it over.

Dean was impressed. He'd never have taken the chance with the animal, sure that it would take a chunk out of his throat. "Nice going, Sammy!" he whispered. "Now get him outa my car before he craps in it!"

Sam gave a last tasty scrap to him, and gathered the dog up carefully. It was still groggy, and its legs were still tied. But at looked at him with utter trust, accepting quietly as he was handed into Dean's waiting arms. "God, I can feel every bump of his spine!" he muttered as he carried him. The dog struggled weakly for a moment, but kept his eyes on Sam, who reassured it with soft words as he crutched along. Dean held him tightly, asking, "So what do you make of all that, Sam?"

"I don't know...but I got the impression that San Mateo wants to move on as much as we want him to. He was obviously trying to tell us something. I guess that since everything is changed for him, he doesn't want to be stuck outside heaven's gate anymore. We've got to figure out what's missing so we can free him."

Dean grunted his agreement. "When Cujo here craps out the rest, we'll burn it, but I get feeling there's more to this, otherwise we wouldn't be talking to Sister Stinky. And naturally, we can't talk to the one sonofabitch who could tell us, with Salazar dead in the church. His wife might know something. Sorry, Sammy; you're gonna have to take one for the team here, and bed the lovely Senora S. in exchange for some info."

Sam stopped still. "What? No! No way! Forget it!"

Sam's expression of horror broke Dean up, and he winced as he laughed. "Relax, stupid, I'm just yanking your chain. But I don't know how you can be so damned picky; you wouldn't have got laid at all this vacation if it weren't for my charity chicks."

"You're a jerk."

Javier and Elieis had pulled Sister Crotilde's body out of the doorway and wrapped her securely with a white cotton sheet and twine. Eli was in the midst of finishing a postumous last rites as they approached. He looked up with surprise upon seeing the dog lying meekly in Dean's arms.

"That is surely not the same beast!" he marvelled.

Sam smiled. "It is. All he needed was some decent food and water and some kindness. If nothing else good comes out of all this, at least this guy will find a better life. Can I put him in the house?"

Eli nodded. "Yes, of course. Maybe in my office...I'll put some paper down in a minute." He finished the sacrament and he and Javier dragged the bundle out to the cemetery shed. They locked it for good measure; no one wanted any further social calls from the Sister tonight.

As the Herrera brothers walked back to the priest's quarters, Eli muttered, "Well I hope at least the Sister has found her peace. It sounds like San Mateo is in a rage again."

Javier looked fearfully toward the church, as they heard the sound of glass shattering and objects thudding hollowly against the plaster walls. "He is frustrated that we did not understand." he said. Eli nodded. They gave the church wide berth and returned to the safety of the kitchen.

There was nothing left to do now but wait. They tried to ignore the sounds coming from the building next door, keeping a watchful eye on the road in case there were visitors. A plan was made for the morning; they would wait for the dog to complete his digestive processes, and should the Saint be quieted at the final burning, they would quickly tidy the interior and contact the authorities, claiming there had been a structural collapse at the church, which had resulted in the unfortunate demise of two people. But if the burning failed to calm San Mateo, they would have to wait with reporting the tragedy; they could hardly bring more people in while mayhem reigned in the church. And more importantly, they were going to have to discover and retrieve whatever else had been in that box of relics.

But the dog made out like a bandit. In order to move the process along, he was fed nearly every tasty thing in the house, along with bowl after bowl of fresh water. Dean untied him fully, and by the end of the night his demeanor was transformed, and he'd won the hearts of all of them. He was a different beast once his trust was won. His whole hind end wagged as they took turns petting, feeding and playing with him. He was still quite young, and the misery of his former life was fast disappearing from his mind, and when they were ready to turn in for the night, Elieis folded a blanket and put it on the office floor for him. Javier took Eli's room and the brothers found soft surfaces in the livingroom. Eli slept on a cot in the office. By morning both he and the dog were sharing it.

Morning came fast and early. Elieis served the coffee while Javier busied himself with cooking a breakfast for them all.

Dean sat, hunched and stiff, glowering at the world. The couch he'd lain on had all the comfort to be expected from a parishioner's 'donated' cast-off . Sam knew well enough to keep his mouth shut until his brother had consumed at least his first cup. "Well there's a typical Winchester vacation!" the elder hunter grumbled. "We get the crap kicked out of us, the last woman we talk to has been dead for two days, and we're sitting around waiting for a dog to crap out a steaming pile of saint!"

Sam frowned and looked away, miserable that his R&R plan for Dean had gone predictably awry.

Dean saw the effect his sour words had. He stretched and sighed. "Aw don't mind me, Sam. I'm just morning-crabby. It's way too freaking early for me. And trust me, the first half out here rocked! Man, that red-head-" He trailed off grinning, and wearing a faraway expression. Sam smiled back. Both their moods brightened when Javier delivered heaping plates of his efforts, and they all sat silently consuming the bacon, eggs and bread.

"Any luck in there, Eli?" Sam asked.

"Not yet. Poor dog isn't used to being stuffed so full...he's probably all stopped up." That was enough said on that subject while they were eating.

Dean scratched the dog's head, it was resting heavily on his thigh. "Go away, beggar. Make some room and you can have more." The dog huffed in disappointment and sat on his bony hip. Dean couldn't help but smile. "So, Eli...you gonna keep him?"

Elieis grinned for the first time in days. "Yes, I think so. I paid for him, after all. And he's not big, and seems to have a mild temper. If you'd asked me that a day ago, I would have said you were crazy." He smoothed the dog's dry, thin coat absent mindedly. "Dean...what do you make of the visit from poor Crotilde? What was he trying to say to me through her?"

Dean sat back. "Well...her hand pointed to both of our chests; it actually touched the thing around my neck. And with the cross scratched where yours was supposed to hang, I think it's fairly clear. He wants his crucifix back. I don't know, maybe it was really important to him when he was alive, or something...maybe sentimental."

Sam agreed. "Yeah, that part was pretty obvious. But it's just a thing, right? From what we know, it shouldn't interfere with anything...I mean, when we salt and burn the last of the relics, as soon as the dog gives them up; he should still be gone, right? The cross isn't actually last remains."

"Mmm..." Dean grunted. "Only one way to know. But yeah, technically it isn't. And I doubt it could be acting as a cursed object in this case. First of all, it's a cross; can that even be cursed? And second; we've definitely got a spirit presence here, and that's what has to be appeased. Cursed objects don't have that much personality."

The Herrera brothers sat quietly, absorbing the information with awe. Both were still trying to come to grips with these things that the Winchesters discussed so matter-of-factly. "But why would he bring this to our attention then?" Javier demanded, "If it is not necessary to release him, why would he try to speak to us about it?"

Dean shrugged. He had no answer. But at that moment, the warm odour of the dog's urgent need wafted through the room. "Oh, god! " Dean grimaced, covering his nose, "Eli, you're on; your dog really needs to go out!"

The priest nodded. He found a length of rope for a make-shift leash, and headed out to the garden. In minutes he returned. "Success. Now, my friend, it is all yours... It's beside the wheel barrow." He patted the dog and went to rummage in the kitchen for a treat. Dean got up creakily, and Sam joined him with equal speed. They all went outside.

Eli stood, frowning uncertainly at the pile. "Do you think I should say something..?"

Javier snorted. "Sure, Elieis...go look in your bible for the words for El Sacramento de la Santa Excrementos!"

Eli sighed and angrily told him to shut his mouth for a change. To his surprise, a chastened Javier apologized. Sam and Dean did not wait on ceremony; they sprinkled the mound liberally with salt, followed by copious kerosene, and lit it. After several more infusions of fuel, it finally burned completely. Dean looked around at his companions, all standing solemnly around a smoking pile of shit. He couldn't help but laugh. Even Eli saw the abstract humour in it all.

"So...now what?" he asked.

Dean looked to the church. "Now we go and see if this thing is over. Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." His tone brooked no argument, and he walked to the building alone as the others waited and hoped.

Dean stepped over the tumbled tower stones and gingerly stuck his head through the doorway. The only sounds were the whistling beat of a startled pigeon's wings as it flew to another perch, and the buzzing flies that made a halo over Lino Salazar. -so far so good-

But the moment he entered, the angry noise rose again. The candles and books became airborne, they shattered against the walls, and pelted Dean mercilessly as he stumbled back to the safety of the yard. He returned to where the others stood, nursing a bloody nose and cursing. He was frustrated and angry, but not surprised. Eli got him a wash cloth. "Still not finished..?" he asked unhappily.

Dean sat down wearily and Sam held the cold cloth against the bridge of his nose until the bleeding stopped. "Nope." he sighed. "Apparently we need to find this cross."

Javier swore fervently. "How the hell do we do that? That stupid bugger lies dead out there! We can't ask him where it is!" He was getting frantic; he had to return to the resort soon, but he would never abandon Eli to deal with this thing alone.

"San Raphael is the nearest town." Elieis ventured, "It's big enough that he would probably go there to sell his things. Perhaps there are pawn shops there, junk shops...we could look in them, ask around. And Senora Salazar...we have to speak to her about Lino anyway...she may know of it."

-ugh-The last thing Dean wanted to do was go back and haggle with that disgusting old crone. He shrugged off Sam's attentions and pressed his hand to his aching side, closing his eyes for a moment. "Eli, I know you said you hardly saw the box contents, but can you remember anything about that damned cross? Any detail at all? We need something here; there will be hundreds of silver crosses out there and I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't have the cash to buy'em all."

Eli sat down. "All I remember was that it was simple, about two inches long, and silver. It wasn't ornate, it was old and worn."

"What was the chain like? Would you recognize it?"

"No...no chain. It was on a piece of twine, braided string or something."

The braided caught Sam's attention. "Twine...? What colour was it? The texture, was it fine or coarse?"

Eli shook his head, agitated. "I don't know, I don't know...it just went past my eyes when I dumped the casket."

"Well think!" Dean barked.

Eli dropped his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to bring the image to mind. "Brown. The string was brown...faded brown. I remember it was twisted, or braided, a short piece, and it was fine, like-"

"Like hair?" Sam asked.

"Yes, like old hair, or fine threads."

The brothers exchanged looks. "Memento Mori!" they said in unison.

"What the hell is that, now?" Javier demanded.

Dean filled them in. "It's a death memento. They used to do that a long time ago; take hair from a dead person, braid a cord out of it, or bracelet, or a woven panel in a locket. It's not about the cross at all, it's the thing it was hanging from. The last remaining part of San Mateo's body...his hair!"