Chapter Thirty-Eight
So, here's the longer one I promised!!
Gillian stumbled down the steps and cringed when the door above her slammed shut. She turned, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Gillian?" a voice said from the bottom of the stairs.
"Dean?" she asked, as she headed down the last few steps. She could dimly see him before her.
"What are you doing here?" Dean asked her in surprise.
"Well, we were here to rescue you," she replied.
"You're doing a hell of a job," Dean said, sarcastically. She gave him a withering look before turning to examine her surroundings.
"How did you know to come?" he continued.
"Sam called and said that you weren't answering your phone. We said we'd check it out. He's on his way, I think," she replied.
"So, do you know what's going on?" she asked him, sitting down on an upturned crate. "Are they going to kill us?" she continued.
"Sacrifice us, which is, I dunno, classier, I guess," he replied. Gillian let out a humourless laugh as Dean walked up the stairs and began to ram the door with his shoulder.
"So, sacrifice us to what, exactly?" she continued, watching as he sighed in frustration and clambered back down the stairs. He sat down beside her on the crate.
"Well, it looks like the people here are using a pagan god to bring prosperity to their town. I went to the library for some help and I figured out it's a Vanir, a Norse god. The villagers build effigies to it or practise human sacrifice, one male and one female," Dean explained.
"Some kind of fertility rite or something," Gillian muttered.
"Don't get any ideas, Gillian," Dean sniggered.
"Huh, you wish," Gillian retorted. The smile faded from Dean's face.
"Anyway, did you figure out where this effigy is?" she continued. Dean nodded.
"Yeah, an orchard, just outside of town. This really fugly scarecrow there," he replied. Gillian nodded.
"So, how are the people controlling the thing?" she questioned.
"Well, this particular Vanir's energy comes from a sacred tree. I'm guessing that this tree is in the orchard so I was heading over to torch it when the sheriff got me," Dean explained. Dean indicated his face and Gillian noticed the large purple bruise beginning to form on his forehead.
"Ouch," she said when she saw it. Dean nodded in agreement.
"That guy is a piece of work. He really hurt me too," Gillian said.
"He hurt you? How?" Dean asked, worry in his voice.
"Shotgun in the back," she replied, rubbing at her lower back as she said this. She turned and lifted up her t-shirt slightly, revealing a red mark right beside that infamous butterfly tattoo.
"That looks sore," Dean said, stepping forward and touching the mark lightly. Gillian shivered slightly as his fingertips brushed her skin. Noticing this he stopped and dropped his hand.
"Sorry," he said.
"No, it's just that your hand is cold," she explained. He nodded. Her skin had been warm under his touch. He gulped and looked around.
"Where's Sally?" he asked. Gillian frowned with a worried expression on her face.
"I don't know. They were going to put her with this Emily girl," she replied.
"Emily? The blonde girl?" Dean asked. Gillian nodded. "She was in on this?" he continued.
Gillian shook her head. "I don't think so. They were going to sacrifice her except then me and Sal turned up," she explained.
"Prefect timing," Dean muttered.
"I know," Gillian said. "It's actually kind of ironic," she continued.
"What do you mean?" Dean said, looking at her confused.
"I'm going to get sacrificed the day before my birthday," she replied.
"Tomorrow's your birthday?" he asked. Gillian nodded.
"I'm going to be 26," she muttered, looking up at the wooden door. Small beams of light were coming in through spaces in the wood.
Suddenly, they heard the door being unlocked and it swung open. The four people from before were standing there, shotguns raised, the light behind them casting long shadows into the cellar.
"It's time," the woman said. Gillian and Dean looked at one another. The sheriff made his way down the stairs followed by the café man.
"Scotty!" Dean exclaimed when he saw him a wide smile breaking out across his face. "I should have know you were part of this," he said.
The sheriff turned to Gillian and grabbed her arm, pulling her up the stairs. "Let's go," he snarled. "Hey," she cried out.
Scotty grabbed Dean's arm and he too hauled Dean up the stairs and out into the bright sunshine. Gillian and Dean were ushered into the back of a truck and the door was slammed. "That guy is real bastard," Gillian muttered, massaging her arm where the sheriff had grabbed. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as the truck started and began to move.
"Hey, Gillian, don't worry, we're going to get out of this okay?" Dean assured her. He moved over and sat beside her.
"I hope you're right," she sighed.
A few minutes later, the truck stopped and the door was opened. Dean and Gillian were ordered to get out and led through the orchard, guns trained on them at all times. Emily's uncle pushed Gillian down to the ground in front of a large apple tree and ordered her to sit back where he began to tie her hands up to the tree. The sheriff pushed Dean down in front of the next tree and Scotty began to also tie him up.
"How many people have you killed, sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?" Dean asked him.
"We don't kill them," the sheriff replied curtly.
"No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden? Clothes have you buried?" Dean continued. The sheriff looked at him and then walked away.
Gillian looked at the man tying her up. "Please, don't do this," she pleaded with him.
"Look, I'm sorry," he told her. The woman, his wife, looked down.
"Try to understand, it's our responsibility and there is just no other choice," she told her.
"You're killing people," Gillian said softly.
"That's what sacrifice means. It's for the greater good. The town needs to be saved. The good of the many, outweighs the good of the one," she finished.
They all began to walk away, leaving Gillian and Dean in the orchard, tied to the tree's. "I hope your apple pie is friggin' worth it," Dean shouted after them.
"So, what's the plan?" Gillian asked Dean. He paused and looked around.
"I'm working on it," he replied.
There was a silence. "So, you and Sam had a fight?" Gillian asked. Dean sighed.
"Yeah," he replied. "He wanted to go to California to find our dad and I thought that we should do what Dad told us and go to Indiana. We didn't really agree," he continued.
"I'm guessing that's a sore spot for you guys," Gillian commented.
Dean chuckled. "That's an understatement," he told her. "I've always followed my Dad's orders. Sam has a mind of his own. I mean, when we were young he always wanted to be normal, like other kids. Go to school, have friends. But that was hard, because we travelled around a lot, never staying in one place for too long. Sometimes I did kinda want a fixed address, a home," he admitted.
Gillian nodded. "Yeah, but, moving around can have it's advantages. I would have given anything to have left that town when I was younger. That's why I ran away as soon as I could," she explained.
Dean twisted around to look at her. "Was it really that bad?" he asked.
"Oh, you have no idea. Well, you kinda do. I mean, you seen what it was like when you asked about us," she pointed out.
"Yeah, they were pretty freaked out about you," Dean agreed. It was Gillian's turn to chuckle.
"Now, that is an understatement," Gillian replied. "They're terrified of us. We walk down the street and mother's going by with their children, shield them, as if we were dangerous," she continued and the hurt was evident in her voice.
"I feel sorry for Kylie and Antonia though. What they go through at school. I mean, it was the same for me and Sal, of course, but now, we can leave whenever we want to," she explained.
"Well, if it's so bad, why don't your aunts move?" Dean asked.
"It's their home. I mean, that house has been in our family for generations. It would be too hard to just up and leave. Plus, they make a lot of money, doing what they do," she said.
"What do they do?" Dean asked, leaning forward interestedly.
"They do spells for people. Mostly love spells," Gillian explained.
"And they get paid?" Dean asked. Gillian nodded.
"Oh yeah, a lot. But I think it is so hypocritical of those people who come to them for help. I mean, they treat us like crap and then, turn around and beg for our help. And then, after they get what they want, they go back to treating us like crap," Gillian said, her voice growing animated.
"That must be hard," Dean said. Gillian shrugged.
"I have my family. I was very happy growing up in that house. I mean, instead of homework, the aunts used to teach us spells and we used to get chocolate cake for breakfast," Gillian laughed at the memory and Dean smiled. "But, like I said, I left as soon as I could," she said quietly, her smile fading. "And I don't think Sally has ever forgiven me for that," she continued.
"Gillian, I'm sure she understands. I mean, didn't she leave, too?" Dean asked.
"That was different. Sally went away to escape. She thought that if she left behind her past, that things would be different. Mainly, the curse. When we were kids, Sally never wanted to fall in love. But then she met Michael and, well, you can't control these things.
After he died, she was pretty broken up about it. She felt like it was her fault. So now, she's even more reluctant to let anyone in. And I know that she doesn't want this life. She want's a family, and a husband to grow old with but she's never going to let herself have that because she doesn't want to be hurt like that again," Gillian finished and looked up at Dean.
He was staring at her, enraptured by the story. "What?" she asked.
"It's just so tragic. It's like Shakespeare or something," he replied. Gillian let out a humourless laugh.
"Except it's not. It's our lives," she said quietly.
"What about you, Gillian?" he asked her.
"What about me?" she asked, looking at him confusedly.
"Don't you want that? A family?" he questioned. Gillian let out a real laugh.
"Me? I don't think I could be a perfect little housewife. I mean, I could never leave this life. I love hunting too much. I think my husband wouldn't be too happy if I told him that I hunt monsters and demons for a living. Oh, and let's not forget the fact that, I'm a witch and because of a 200 year old curse he's going to probably die an untimely death," she exclaimed.
"I think I can see where you're coming from," Dean nodded and smiled. "Hey, do you know what time it is?" Dean asked her.
Gillian looked up and twisted her wrist so that she could see her watch. "Um, just past midnight," she replied.
"Well, then, happy birthday," Dean said.
"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, thanks," she said, chuckling lightly. "When's your birthday?" she asked him.
"January 24th, I was 27," he replied.
"We're too young to die," Gillian commented.
"Don't worry, I'm still working on my plan. We're not going to die tonight," Dean assured her.