*12:55*

~35~ Forest

Light. Fresh air. Frost on fallen leaves.

Dean sat up, eyes wide. He was surrounded by poplars, bark pale and puckered with age. A morning mist curled around them, between barren bushes. The ground was firm, brown leaves packed down by damp and preserved by ice. Through the branches above peered a grey sky, hinting the chance of snow.

He exhaled. His breath plumed. Cold nibbled at his fingers and the tips of his ears.

"Sam?"

His voice didn't sound his own. Almost muffled, on the other side of a window. He pushed himself to his feet. The world seemed to spin around him even though he stood still. Something moved through the trees.

"Hello?"

"Dean!"

He spun around, towards the voice.

"Over here, Sam."

His brother jogged over, leaves in his hair and clothes like he'd been rolling around on the forest floor. He was breathing too hard and looked too relieved to see him.

"Did we make it?" said Dean. "Are we out?"

"No," he gasped. "Dean, where were you, man? I've been running around for ages!"

Dean frowned. "I haven't gone anywhere. I jumped down the rabbit hole right after you did."

Glancing around him, Sam then pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I can't shake it."

"Can't shake what?"

"The valkyrie."

He frowned. Sam pointed behind him, over his head. Dean turned, and recoiled.

Sitting on a branch too thin to hold its weight was one of the bird people. It looked just like the painting in the gallery. The size of a child, featureless, furless, with a long, beak-like face and a massive set of black wings. Countless mites swarmed over its leathery body, seeking the shelter of the wing feathers.

Even as they watched, another of the creatures soared overhead on silent wings, landing on a different tree. Then, in sync, both valkyries raised bony arms and pointed at the brothers, but made not a sound.

"That's all they do," said Sam, slapping his leg. "Just sit there and point."

Dean turned to his brother. Sam looked beyond stressed. Like he hadn't slept for days.

"Dude, how long exactly have you been wandering around?"

Sam's words shuddered a bit. "Dunno. Feels like hours."

"Hours?" Dean paled. "But..."

"I know."

"Then we..."

"Doesn't seem like it. But I guess there's no way of knowing until we find our way back to the house."

Dean looked around. "Is this the forest around the manor?"

"Not sure. Like I said, I've been wandering, and I haven't seen it." Sam took several deep breaths, until his chest stopped shuddering and his throat didn't feel so tight. Now that he had reunited with his brother, things didn't seem so bad.

"Dean, where's the gun?"

The question jolted his brother out of a reverie. Sam kept an eye on the ever watchful valkyries while Dean hunted around the surrounding foliage for the weapon that was probably of no use to them but a comfort all the same. A few moments later, there was a cry of triumph.

"Here she is." He emerged from the bushes, looking the weapon over. He rejoined his brother, looking up at the valkyries. Neither had moved.

"This is the closest they've been," said Sam softly. "They never get further away. Only closer."

"Should I shoot it?"

"...No. We don't have many shells left."

Dean lowered the gun. "Then I guess we just have to keep moving."

So they did, trying to ignore the bird people as they followed on the wing. But the hunters didn't get far before Sam stopped his brother with an elbow.

"Ten o'clock."

There was a hooded figure making its way through the trees, not looking left or right, head bowed as though following a trail of breadcrumbs. While the hunters had blundered through the woods like bears, the figure made not a sound at all.

Without asking each other, the brothers followed.

Their quarry didn't seem to hear them, even when they got close enough to make out the patterns on the cloak. They took it to mean they had stumbled across another memory.

Their assumptions were deemed correct when a branch snagged the figure's hood, pulling it off her head and exposing red hair.

"Angelina," said Dean.

Sam nodded. "Looks to be our age," he said, studying her face as she turned to untangle her cloak from the branch. And then he noticed something shiny cupped in her hand, held at waist height.

"Hey."

Dean had seen it too. He pulled the copper and silver leaf broach out of his pocket, given to them by Ariel. He moved closer to Angelina to compare them, and was certain it was a duplicate, if not the original.

She didn't look at them. They didn't exist yet. Nor did she take notice of the valkyrie in the tree over her head. When she finally got free of the branch, she turned away again, still staring down.

"Is she...following the broach?"

Dean shrugged. "Can't tell. Why else would she be holding it like that?"

Sam mirrored the shrug and started after her again.

Angelina stopped not long later, still staring down. It was with foreboding that the brothers joined her, as if they knew what they were going to find before they broke out of the foliage.

But their fears were unfounded, for she'd merely stopped at the edge of an iced mire. Here long grass had survived the frost, poking up between the leaves and frozen mud, not to be smothered.

Angelina pocketed her broach and looked around. Eyes falling on a low mound in the middle of the swamp, she stepped onto the ice, careless when the fragile crust shattered and the water beneath soaked into her boots. Upon reaching the mound, she pulled out a knife and sliced open her palm.

"Whatever you're about to do, don't do it, lady," Dean mumbled.

Heedless of his plea, she squeezed her hand in a fist, dripping blood into the earth, muttering in a language they didn't recognize.

At first, nothing happened. But then the ground began to shift. Grass curled away in a circle, exposing dirt that compacted into itself towards the sides of a rapidly growing hole. Rocks rolled away and roots snapped apart, flailing before being drawn back towards their home trees.

Finally, everything fell still. Angelina stood on the edge of a steeply sloped cave plunging into darkness. It looked natural, but it felt wrong. And not only because it had been hidden deliberately.

"It's like she knew exactly where it was," said Dean.

Sam shook his head. "Or not. It looked like she was following the broach, remember."

Dean grimaced. "What kind of pin can locate a cave?"

"...Maybe it isn't the pin itself. Maybe it's what it's made of."

Before they could discuss more, Angelina pulled something from her cloak and held it behind her back. An oval hand mirror, crafted in silver. And then she began to speak.

"I call to you, Ewah, prince of madness. Rise in spirit and heed my summoning."

"Don't do it," Dean half sang.

He might as well have told a television screen. Something appeared over the cave entrance, something shapeless that constantly changed its form. Sometimes it looked humanoid, other times it was a writhing mass of tendrils. But it remained darkly transparent. A projection of the demon trapped inside the cave.

"It has been...mmmany years since I have last lain eyes on this domain," said Ewah. Its voice was sexless. As it breathed, it make a croaking sound that sent shivers of dread down Dean's spine. The very sound he heard before he lost his eyes.

"Your language...it is unfamiliar to me."

"And your powers are strong," said Angelina, hiding her fear expertly, "if you have already gleaned it from my mind and become fluent in it."

"I have many talents." Amusement now tinged its words. "You have awaken me, witch. If you are expecting a reward, you may find it isn't to your liking. If there'ssss one thing worse than being trapped in a cage for centuries, it's being awake to experience it."

"I know who you are and what you can do," said Angelina. "I wish to make a deal."

Both Sam and Dean groaned.

"A deal, you say?" The entity shifted its form, mirroring Angelina's image. "And why not ssseek out my kindred of the crossroads?"

"I am no fool," said Angelina, chest swelling. "I prize my soul over vengeance."

"Vengeance. How I would love to taste a bit myself."

"It's been many moons since your entrapment. Those who imprisoned you, your wardens, have long gone."

"Then what could you offer that could possibly interest me, witch?"

"Freedom."

It made a hiss like a crocodile. "Impossible."

"No prison is completely sound."

"...I'm listening."

"I know you already influence any living thing that passes through here," said Angelina. "I have seen the drooling wolves and maddened deer. Simple minds are affected merely by walking near your prison. And I can tell you're even more powerful than I supposed, if you were not doing this to them wittingly."

It chuckled. "I have that affect on people."

"No, not people. People have forgotten you, demon. You are nothing but a bedtime story... You are trying to take my mind even as we speak."

"I am bored, witch. Your language is ssslow and your intentions dull. Unless you have something worth saying..."

"As I said, I wish to make a deal," said Angelina tightly. "I want you to expand my abilities. In return, I will to tear away a layer of your prison."

"And what will that do?"

"In theory, you will have a further reach, not to mention a stronger one. You might have the power over a human. Manipulative. Malleable—"

"In theory? Might have? These are nought but sssspeculations, witch! Guesses! Assumptions! If they are wrong, you will walk away stronger and I will remain as nothing."

Angelina crossed her arms. "You have my blood, demon. I know what you can do with that."

The entity squirmed, gleefully sheepish. "As do I. So. You have given me the first round."

"A faith payment."

"You are desperate."

"I have ambitions," Angelina countered. "If I walk away now, I still have time to exact vengeance on my own. You will have my mind to play with, but at the end of the day, that is all you get. You will have no power over me otherwise, and if I wished it to be over, I could end my life and you couldn't stop me."

Sam nudged his brother, showing him his hand. Dean nodded. Both of them had cut their hands when they first arrived at Corvus Manor, Sam on the gate and Dean on the wall. George Firandez, too, had a hurt hand, and no doubt his friends did as well. It was how the demon caught their scents.

"Strange how you know so much about me," said Ewah. It made the croaking sound again, a cross between a dying toad and a creaky floorboard.

"You are a child of nature," said Angelina. "Eve is your mother. You take the name of demon even though you were never a human soul. You can possess, you can shapeshift, you can break a man's mind with a simple look into his eyes. You are unique in form but not motive."

"Go on."

"Why? You have already made your decision." Angelina paused. "What are you afraid of? Nothing can kill you."

"No." The monster became a mass of tendrils, oozing dark slime that dripped but never landed. "Sssso long as there is the realm of the unconscious, I will endure."

"Yes. Endure. You will exist, nothing more. You cannot even plant nightmares anymore. The ward I wish to break should be enough to allow you that much. To reenter the your true domain."

Croak. "You have no idea what I could...do there."

"No. And I don't care. What you do with your freedom is your business."

"...Who is it you wishhh to exact vengeance upon, hm? Did someone steal from you? Rape you? If you do not tell me, I can pull it from your mind myself. And I can make it hurt."

Angelina's nostrils narrowed. "Atticus Corvus. He destroyed my family. He covered it up and pretended it never happened. My sister and I were left to starve on the streets while he remained fat and happy in his mansion."

"My heart bleeds for you."

"You have no heart, demon."

"So let me guess. You took work in that mansionnnn...with the intention of returning the favour."

"Not quite." Angelina's eyes blazed. "I had my sister marry the younger son, believing that the elder son would become patriarch and continue the family bloodline. But he didn't. The fool got himself killed in a hunting accident."

"And you want me to haunt him in the afterlife?"

"No. I want to do it myself. I want to be able to do what you do."

The monster spat with laughter. Angelina's hand tightened around the hand mirror, still behind her back.

"Your body would not be able to handle such a burden. You are not one of the special ones."

"I am a witch," Angelina hissed.

"Yesss. And not a puny one either. But your physical form is not ssstrong enough. It could not handle the weakest of angels – let alone the power I wield."

Angelina's nostrils narrowed, and she stood up straighter. "Very well, demon. I will leave you to your prison. Enjoy your limitations—"

"I did not say I would not make a deal," said Ewah contemptuously.

"I'll bet you never had the ability to do what I want anyway," she retorted. "Just another monster of low ranking, a bottom feeder."

"You are trying to goad me into giving you mmmmore than what I am willing to give. It will not work."

"So you are willing to give me something."

The demon tilted its head. It had goat horns curling back over its humanoid skull. "I am. In exchange for the freedom to reenter the limitless realm of the subconscious, I shall grant you the skills of a psychic."

"And what will that entail?"

"You will be able to discern thoughts from auras and dreams, read lies and truths as easily as Scripture, and be able to impute your will in limited degrees to lesser minds. Perhaps, if I'm feeling generous, you will be able to create...a realm, if you will, in the plane of thoughts and memories where you could store every bit of knowledge you collect. In essence, you won't forget anything ever again."

Angelina seemed to think about it, but the two hunters already knew her answer. "Fine. Then we have an accord."

There was several seconds of silence.

"You must make the first move, witch."

She nodded, kneeling on the frosted ground, dropping the mirror where it was yet hidden from the demon. She began to dig, scooping up dirt with one hand as though it wasn't frozen.

Sam and Dean approached, eager to find out what she was unearthing. If they could put whatever it was back in the real world, perhaps it would reengage the ward Angelina sought to break.

Finally, she plucked out a rock the size of an egg, caked with dirt. She brushed it off, revealing the Cherokee characters painted on its sides. She rotated it, as though studying the markings.

"Dean—?"

"Yep." The elder Winchester pulled out the rock he had found in the well shaft cache. It looked identical to the one Angelina now threw into the trees.

It was a memory, but the brothers felt the explosion of energy that burst up from the cave. Angelina was blasted off her feet, landing in the swamp, and a torrent of darkness, similar to demon smoke, washed over her, entering her mouth, nose and ears, seeping into her skin. Her expression betrayed her pain and fear, and even after it was over, she did not get up.

So she didn't see what the Winchesters saw – a small, black-red blob crawling out of the ground. It was amorphous like the projection above the cave, with writhing black tendrils that immediately reminded Sam of the creature he had stepped on after it burst from Dean's eye socket, as well as the parasite that had been cut from his chest.

The thing inched across the grass towards the witch. It crept past her feet, hands, shoulders, stopping near her hair. There it climbed aboard, a parasite on an unwitting host.

Knowing what they did, Sam and Dean knew the demon had already broken the pact. It had given her the powers she wanted, but in doing so, allowed itself to take more freedom than it had been dealt.

Angelina got up, slowly, dazed. She said nothing more, walking off into the woods.

"Ssso. Now you know."

The brothers flinched, turning back to Ewah. Eyeless, it was facing them.

No. Impossible. They weren't really there. It couldn't see them!

It began to laugh, a cold, croaky sound. And then invisible claws tore across their vision, tripping ragged gashes through the scene as though it were nought but a painting, and it felt as though they were rammed by a truck, sending them to oblivion.