Story Name: Pivot Point
Pen Name: ElenaRoan
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them, written purely for enjoyment.
Warnings:
Summary: What if Anna decided to derail the apocalypse by intervening to help rather than trying to make the brothers never having existed.
Timeline: Season 4
Note: I'm Australian and I can't bring myself to use USA spelling, sorry.
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Chapter 35: Hex
A few days rest had Sam feeling back to normal. Dean, however, was reluctant to leave the sanctuary of Bobby's place, not that he was scared of hunting but because he was worried about exposing Sam again. Which was starting to frustrate Sam.
Sam leant against the door to the garage where Dean was working, when he was able bodied and spending time at Bobby's he liked to help out.
"Man died after swallowing razor blades."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked over at him, "that takes some serious trying. Where?"
"Couple of hours away."
"Okay." Dean replied, pushing away from the car and looking around for Bobby, "Bobby?"
"About time. Been expecting you to head out for a while. Drive safe." Bobby returned gruffly.
"Thanks Bobby." Sam called.
A short drive later they introduced themselves to the widow as FBI.
"How many razor blades did they find?" Sam asked her gently while Dean looked around, he'd subtly pointed his brother in the right direction to look. The widow needed his approach though.
"Two on the floor, one in his stomach, and one was stuck in his throat." She told him brokenly, "he swallowed four of them. How is that even possible?"
Dean made a little bit too much noise poking around and attracted her attention, "the candy was never in the oven."
"We just have to be thorough, Mrs Wallace." Dean soothed.
"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy?" Sam asked.
"No. I mean, I don't know. I don't think so." She fumbled, "I just…I can't believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?"
"More than you might imagine." Sam replied with a sigh.
Dean held up the hex bag Sam had known was there.
"Mrs Wallace, did Luke have any enemies?" Sam continued.
"Enemies?" She repeated, obviously puzzled.
"Anyone who might've held a grudge against him?" He pressed.
"What do you mean?"
"Co-workers, neighbours." Sam stated and she stared at him with open incredulousness, "…maybe a woman."
"Are you suggesting an affair?" She demanded.
"Is it possible?" He pressed, usually it was something personal that got a hex bag inflicted on someone.
"No! No, Luke would nev…" She broke off in obvious difficulty and Sam winced internally.
"I'm very sorry, we just have to consider all possibilities." He tried to explain and winced inside again.
"If someone wanted to kill my husband, don't you think they'd find a better way than a razor in a piece of candy he might eat?" She demanded and he had to concede that that was the weakness in the line of questioning, it wasn't like he could explain that her husband had been hexed after all.
They excused themselves then and returned to the motel room to investigate the hex bag. Which was weirder than usual.
After double checking the room was as secure as they could make it Dean left Sam digging through the various books and ducked out to look up information on the victim, and make a candy run.
Sam had to laugh when he returned and saw him munching, "after that guy choked down all those razor blades?"
"It's Halloween, man." Dean returned blasély.
"Yeah. For us, every day is Halloween." Sam retorted.
"Don't be a downer." Dean complained, "anything interesting?"
"Well, we're on a witch hunt, that's for sure, but this…isn't your typical hex bag." Sam gestured to the deconstructed bag on the table.
"No?" Dean prompted.
"Goldthread." Sam told him, holding up the herb, "an herb that's been extinct for 200 years."
He put it back down and picked up the coin, "and this is Celtic. And I don't mean some New Age knockoff. It looks like the real deal, like 600 years old real."
Dean picked up the blackened stick looking thing and looked at it.
"And…uh…that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby." Sam told him uncomfortably.
Dean nearly dropped it in his haste to put it down, "oh. Gross."
"Relax, man." Sam told him, "it's at least a hundred years old."
"Oh, right, like that makes it better." Dean complained, "witches, man, so frigging skeevy."
"Yeah." Sam agreed, "well, takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we've ever dealt with before, that's for sure."
"What about you, find anything on the victim?" Sam asked. He was getting the feeling that they wouldn't find a simple reason for the man being targeted, not with such a powerful hex bag.
"This Luke Wallace, he was so vanilla, that he made vanilla seem spicy." Dean replied in exasperation, "I can't find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead."
"That's what I was afraid of." Sam sighed, pushing away the book.
"Well since we've hit a road block, dinner?" Dean asked, in part because he knew getting his brother distracted was the best way to get his subconscious to juggle everything into place.
"You just filled up on candy." Sam pointed out.
"Still got room. Saw a decent looking diner a couple of blocks over."
Sam chuckled, "lead the way."
The diner did turn out to be fairly decent and they ended up grabbing a booth in the back, people watching while they ate. It was a couple of hours before they headed back.
Sam frowned as they closed the door behind them, his danger sense was being set off by something.
"Dean…" He started then incredibly strong bands of magic snapped into being and wrapped around him, pain blinding him instantly.
He felt Dean grab him as his knees buckled. He vaguely heard his brother's voice but was beyond making out what he was saying. What he knew was that he needed to get the information he knew to his brother or it would be lights out.
"Hex…" He managed to gasp, he hoped anyway, and forced his hand and arm to work, pointing to where he could feel the bag's 'hot spot'.
He wasn't really aware of very much after that, until the bands abruptly vanished. Blinking to clear his sight he saw Dean dropping the still flaming hex bag, then his brother dashed back to his side. He noted that he was propped against the wall next to the door.
"Hey, you okay?" Dean demanded, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face.
Sam became aware that he'd thrown up during the attack and made a face, "glad to be alive, thanks."
"Who the hell do we even know in town? There's no way that wasn't deliberate." Dean asked as he helped Sam to his feet then shadowed him into the bathroom.
Sam rinsed out his mouth then carefully peeled off his shirt, dumping it on the floor to be carted to the washing machines next load.
"Target of opportunity maybe? They can't have known we'd come to town."
"There's hate behind this one, there's no way even a powerful witch targets Hunters without a reason."
"Us specifically or Hunters in general do you think? I can't think of any witch we've encountered that either hates us that much or is even still alive."
"I think it's probably you specifically." Dean told him reluctantly, "I was the first through the door but it grabbed you."
"Which means they targeted me. Great." Sam sighed, leaving the bathroom slightly unsteadily, "who did I piss off?"
"Wish I could tell you." Dean replied, waving his brother to the bed, doing a belated bug sweep that fortunately came up clean, then digging out a clean shirt for him. Sam slipped it on then pulled the books closer and started going through them again, "think you're going to find the answer in there?"
"Maybe. Whatever the reason it's not personal revenge, even if targeting me indicates hatred for me. Not with a hex bag that difficult to assemble, that takes planning. Generations of planning."
"Any ideas?"
"Won't know 'til I read it." Sam pointed out.
"Want me to read while you rest?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head, "no. Doubt I could relax right now anyway, no matter how wiped that left me feeling."
"Okay." Dean replied and settled on the other bed to watch him worriedly. Sam decided not to argue with him about that, it couldn't have been an easy thing to witness.
Sam read in silence, and Dean watched him, for around an hour.
"Might have something. A spell. Check this out:" He stated, "three blood sacrifices over three days. The last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest."
He handed the book over to Dean, "Celtic calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st."
"Halloween." Dean noted.
"Exactly." Sam agreed.
"What exactly are the blood sacrifices for?" Dean asked, wondering even as he asked whether Sam surviving meant the spell had been derailed.
"Well, if I'm right, this witch is summoning a demon." Sam replied, "and not just any demon. Samhain."
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Dean asked, there weren't many demons he bothered to learn the names of. That his brother had nearly died in a spell focused on it didn't make him any more inclined to find out, beyond labelling it or the witch responsible 'dead' anyway.
"Samhain is the origin of Halloween." Sam explained patiently, "the Celts believed that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was thinnest between the living and the dead. And it was Samhain's night. Masks were put on to hide from him. Sweets left on doorsteps to appease him. Faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."
"So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the traditions stuck?" Dean asked.
"Exactly. Only now, instead of demons and blood orgies Halloween is all about kids, candy, and costumes." Sam agreed.
"Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?" Dean asked with a half attempted try at levity. Sam let it pass, Dean had had to catch his brother as he collapsed due to whoever trying to fulfil this spell and humour was a coping method Sam had long noted. He'd probably be lucky if his brother didn't try to wrap him in cotton wool after this.
"This ritual can only be performed every 600 years." He added.
"And the 600 year marker rolls around…?"
"Tomorrow night." Sam confirmed.
"Naturally." Dean complained, "sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon."
"That's 'cause he likes company." Sam told him, "once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own."
"Raising what, exactly?" Dean asked.
"Dark, evil crap, and lots of it. I mean, they follow him around like the pied piper." Sam replied.
"So we're talking ghosts?" Dean commented looking at the pictures.
"Yeah." Sam confirmed.
"Zombies?" Dean continued and Sam again confirmed it.
"Leprechauns?" Dean quipped and Sam rolled his eyes, "those little dudes are scary. Small hands."
"It starts with ghosts and ghouls, this sucker just keeps on going though, by night's end, we are talking every awful thing we've ever seen. Everything we fight all in one place."
"Awesome." Dean complained, "think because they misfired on you it's been derailed?"
"Maybe. Best to prepare as if they had a backup though, or if they can still continue if they have two sacrifices on the final day."
"It's gonna be a slaughterhouse if so."
"There's more." Sam told him, "think I might know why they're so angry with me."
He pulled out the small esoteric version of Revelation that Bobby had given him over a year ago, flipped open to somewhere in the middle, and showed Dean, "one of the seals is the raising of Samhain. So they are pissed because they either have to wait 600 years for another go at the apocalypse or forego the chance at the seal."
"That makes too much sense. Get revenge and try to kick start it all back up again in one fell swoop even if they can't get the seal." Dean replied.
"Bobby might know whether they can continue with the spell or not." Sam suggested.
Dean checked the time, "he might. I'll send him a message and check with him in the morning."
He looked critically at his brother, "you look wiped, dude. Grab some sleep."
"Probably a good idea." Sam conceded, "adrenaline is starting to run out."
"Sleep. I'll keep watch."
"You need sleep too."
"No way I can sleep after that. And we don't have any wards that'll keep out witches. I'll be fine, I wasn't the one they tried to turn inside out."
"I'm too tired to argue." Sam sighed and crawled under the covers, "I'll argue when I wake up."
Dean just gave a soft chuckle and watched his, thankfully alive, brother fall asleep. He could swear his heart had nearly stopped when Sam had collapsed, if his brother hadn't had enough presence of mind to get the message out about it being a hex bag and where it was through the obvious pain he was in Dean wasn't sure he'd have figured that out or located it fast enough.