"Sam, is that you?" Dad's voice was small, coming from the phone pressed to Sam's ear, but still recognisable.
Sam sat bolt upright in bed, "Dad? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
Sam's voice sounded younger than his twenty two years, "We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were, if you were okay."
"Sammy, I'm all right. What about you, Dean and Ali?" Dean stirred on the bed behind me, woken by Sam talking.
"We're fine. Dad, where are you?" Dean sat up, focusing on Sam.
"Sorry, kiddo, I can't tell you that."
"What? Why not?"
"Is that Dad?" Dean questioned, reaching for the shirt I'd ordered him to remove so I could check his injuries before bed.
"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand." Dad sounded frustrated. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this."
"You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mum."
"Yeah. It's a demon, Sam."
"A demon? You know for sure?"
"A demon?" asked Dean, "What's he saying?"
"I do." Then Dad's voice dropped, becoming gentle, "Listen, Sammy, I, uh…I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I'm so sorry. I would've done anything to protect you from that."
"You know where it is?" Sam pressed, grief rising at Dad's words and being forcibly pushed away.
"Yeah, I think I'm finally closing in on it."
"Let us help."
"You can't." Dad sounded insistent now. "You can't be any part of it."
"Why not?" Oh boy, Sam's gearing up for a fight.
"Give me the phone." Dean reached over me, where I was still laying on my side in the bed beside him, still feeding on the pain from his chest wound.
"Listen, Sammy, that's why I'm calling. You kids, you gotta stop looking for me. Alright, now, I need you to write down these names."
"Names? What names, Dad—talk to me, tell me what's going on."
"Look, we don't have time for this. This is bigger than you think, they're everywhere. Even us talking right now, it's not safe."
"No. Alright? No way."
"Give me the phone." Sam continued to ignore Dean.
"I have given you an order. Now, you stop following me, and you do your job. You understand me? Now, take down these names."
Dean plucked the phone from Sam's hand, holding it up to his own ear. "Dad, it's me. Where are you?"
"I can't say and you gotta stop looking, it's not safe, you hear?"
Dean's posture straightened a little in response to Dad's tone, clearly bristling but obedient, unlike Sam. "Yeah, okay."
"Good." Dad growled, "Now have you got a pen? Take down these names."
Dean reached over me, jostling my shoulder slightly as he grabbed the motel notepad off the bedside table. "Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?"
"Alright," Sam stated irritably from the driver's seat of the Impala, "so, the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?"
"Three different couples." Dean confirmed, leafing through the print outs. "All went missing."
"And they're all from different towns? Different states?"
"That's right." I told him, leaning over Dean's shoulder to look at the pages. "You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again."
"Well, it's a big country." Sam pointed out in exasperation. "They could've disappeared anywhere."
"Yeah, could've." Dean argued, "But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another."
There was a pause, "This is the second week of April."
"Yep."
"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?" Sam sounded like he was working up to another hissy fit over Dad.
"Yahtzee." Dean was oblivious, still leafing through the pages in his lap. "Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master." He looked up as Sam pulled the car over to the side of the road. "What are you doing?"
"We're not going to Indiana." Sam stated flatly.
I dropped my forehead to the back of the seat, here we go. "We're not?" I prompted.
"No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code."
"Sam." Dean sounded like I felt; tired of fighting with Sam over this.
"Dean, if this demon killed Mum and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be there." Sam insisted, "We've gotta help."
"Dad doesn't want our help." Dean pointed out.
"I don't care."
"He's given us an order."
"I don't care." Sam repeated. "We don't always have to do what he says."
"Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it's important." My voice was slightly muffled by the seat back I was still resting my head on.
"Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I'm talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge."
I looked up in concern at Sam's words, studying the side of his face with a frown as Dean continued to try to reason with him. "Alright, look, I know how you feel."
"Do you?" Sam bite out, real venom in his tone. "How old were you when Mum died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?"
"Dad said it wasn't safe." I spoke gently, trying not to upset my baby brother any further. "For any of us. I mean, he obviously knows something that we don't, so if he says to stay away, we stay away."
Sam looked between the two of us with a face that spoke of frustrated incredulity. "I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it's like you two don't even question him."
"Yeah, it's called being a good son!" Dean exclaimed, angry now, hurt by Sam's accusations about Mum.
Sam didn't reply, he just got out of the car, opened the boot and started unloading his bags. Dean and I followed.
"You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks." Dean ranted.
"That's what you really think?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California." Sam pulled his backpack onto his back and walked away, I watched him go, my heart aching at seeing Sammy leaving us again.
"Come on, you're not serious." Dean called after him.
"I am serious."
"It's the middle of the night! Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?" Sam stopped at Dean's words, turning back to face us.
"That's what I want you to do." They stared at each other for a moment, as I looked back and forth between them, realising that I would have to choose a path.
"Goodbye, Sam." Dean closed the boot turning away to get into the driver's seat. I caught his sleeve forcing him to turn back to me.
"I swear, Dean, you leave me behind, there will be hell to pay." I pointed a finger at him, maintaining eye contact until he rolled his eyes and nodded at me, and then I ran after Sam, calling to him to stop.
He turned to face me, "You comin' with?"
"No, Sam, I'm going to Indiana. But you were leaving without a hug." I held up my arms like a toddler wanting to be picked up and Sam's face relaxed into a genuine smile. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me, carefully below my stab wound, and picking me up. "You stay in touch." I whispered in his ear. "And you be careful, remember what Dad said about it not being safe and you be so careful."
He nodded, "I will, Ali."
"And you phone us every day."
"Yeah, I promise." I could feel his smile against my cheek.
"Love you, Sammy." I kissed his cheek.
"Love you too." He returned the kiss before giving one last squeeze and dropping me to the ground. I gave him a sad smile and turned to return to Dean, who was leaning against the side of the Impala waiting for me.
"Ali!" Sam called after me, and I turned back to face him. "What made you choose Dean?" his voice was quiet, not quite hiding the hurt.
"I didn't choose a side, Sam, I chose a course of action; I chose to follow Dad's orders." I gave him another small smile, "We'll catch you later, Sammy."
We each lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave and turned away, going our separate ways for now.
"Thought you'd go with him." Dean commented as we settled into the car.
"Sammy's a big boy now, he can look after himself." I told him, reaching out to change the tape to Lynyrd Skynyrd. "Besides, we'll deal with whatever's in Indiana and meet up with him in Cali. The amount of time a bus will take to get there, we might even get there first."
It had just finished raining when we pulled into Burkitsville, Indiana. The grass shone with water droplets and puddles on the road reflected the trees and the houses. Dean pulled over to the side of the road in what passed for the town center in this sleepy little place; he pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the contacts before stopping.
"You should call," I told him, "apologise for some of the shit you said and remind him to call us once he finds Dad." Dean scowled at me, and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He got out of the car and slammed the door.
I hurried after him, catching up as he approached a man sitting in a chair on the porch of 'Scotty's Café', catching hold of his hand as we both gave the man slightly forced smiles. "Let me guess," Dean deliberately looked up at the sign of the café, "Scotty."
Scotty also turned, regarding the sign for a moment before confirming Dean's assumption with a brief "Yep."
"Hi, my name's John Bonham."
"Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?"
"Wow." Dean was taken aback; people didn't often question the aliases we used. "Good. Classic rock fan."
"What can I do for you, John?"
Dean dropped my hand and pulled the missing posters for the couple who disappeared last year, Holly and Vince Parker, from his pocket, handing them to Scotty. "I was wondering if, uh, you'd seen these people by chance."
Scotty gave them a quick look before responding. "Nope. Who are they?"
"Friends of ours." I supplied. "They went missing about a year ago. They passed through somewhere around here, and we've already asked around Scottsburg and Salem—"
"Sorry." He handed the posters back to Dean. "We don't get many strangers around here."
"Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?" Scotty gave him a strange look and I rolled my eyes at Dean's sarcasm.
"Come on, Honey," I tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the café, "We'll ask a few more places then try the next town. We'll find them."
Dean raised his eyebrows at me, but behind him Scotty was disappearing into his café with a calculating look on his face.
Dean waited until we were out of earshot before leaning in to question me, "You're calling me 'Honey' now?"
"It's couples, Dean" I kept my voice low as we approached Jorgeson General Store. "Every year it's a couple."
"You're using us as bait!" He appeared thoughtful for a minute, then, "I'm not kissing you."
"Thank god for that." I retorted as we entered the store, drawing a chuckle from Dean before we went through a similar song and dance with the couple who owned the store as we had with Scotty.
"You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?" Dean pressed.
The man showed the pictures to his wife, who shook her head before he turned back to us. "Nope, don't remember 'em. You said they were friends of yours?"
"That's right." Dean confirmed.
"Did the guy have a tattoo?" asked a girl of about twenty, coming down the stairs with a pile of boxes in her hands.
"Yes, he did." Dean held the pictures out for the girl to see as she placed her load on the counter.
"You remember?" She asked the older couple. "They were just married."
The man took the poster from her hand, frowning at it. "You're right. They did stop for gas. Weren't here more than ten minutes."
"You remember anything else?" I asked.
"I told 'em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town." The man handed the poster back.
"Could you point us in that same direction?"
"Sure." The man smiled, "I'll draw a quick map."
He bustled around, finding paper and pencil from behind the counter while his wife and the younger girl disappeared. "Take Laskey straight out of town." A detailed map started to appear on the paper, agonisingly slowly, complete with many road junctions, each road labelled with its name. "And then you're going to turn right on Orchard Road." The two roads we were interested in were the only ones that were complete, every other road ended as a stump. It wasn't a bad depiction of what we would see as we were driving, but it took a long time to draw. Trees were being added to the orchard as my sensitive ears picked up the sound of a car bonnet being shut, it sounded like Baby's.
"Thanks, man." Dean took the map and we left, with fake smiles and small waves.
He handed me the map as we got into the car, "Pretty simple," he grumbled. "Coulda just told us without drawing it out like that."
He turned the key and Baby made a choking sound, then a whirring sound, then fell silent. Dean looked at her in horror. "But then his wife wouldn't have had time to sabotage our car." I whispered in realisation, watching Dean carefully.
He turned to face me with an almost murderous look in his eye. "They hurt my Baby?"
"Dean, this is a good thing," I winced as soon as I said it, knowing what the reaction would be, but it was too late to take it back.
"Good!?"
"It means they took the bait." I hurried on. "They've trapped us here for whatever reason. Now we pretend to know nothing about cars and go back in there asking them to fix it-"
"No!" Dean seemed aghast. "They've already tampered with her, and you want to ask them to do more damage?"
"We can fix whatever they do, Dean; it's not like we haven't repaired her before."
"Ali…" He sounded as if he was in pain.
"Dean, come on," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather it was us than some innocent civilians?"
"Oh, come on." He flopped back into his seat. "Really?"
I left Dean sulking in the car as I returned to the general store to speak to the younger girl who was now behind the counter. I complained that we'd only recently had the car back from the garage and she promised me that her uncle could take a look at it. She called him through and he put on a good pretense at being surprised to see me, I might even have been fooled by it if I hadn't known better. I led him outside, where Dean had the bonnet open and was scowling at the engine.
The man bent over, peering into the engine bay. I could see over his shoulder that the connection between the battery and the spark plugs had been unplugged, it wouldn't take a moment to fix, but I swallowed the urge to do so and put on a worried voice, "Do you think you can fix it?"
"Yes, I'd say so. Might take a while though." He straightened, giving us a smile, "Why don't you folks head over to the café while you wait. I should have you up and running by sundown."
I gave him a relieved smile and pulled Dean's hand into mine, squeezing tightly to remind him to play his part. "That sounds great, you're so kind." Dean mumbled something under his breath that sounded like he disagreed with me and I tugged him away. Then I turned back, "Oh, just a thought, how far is it to this orchard? Since we're here all day it might make a nice romantic stroll." I smiled fondly at Dean, and the look he gave me in return promised my impending demise.
"It's about half a mile," The man answered, turning back to the Impala, "not really the weather for it though."
"Awesome, thanks." I trilled before pulling Dean after me towards the café. I'd spotted a sign boasting the best pie in the county and Dean needed some cheering up.
Forty five minutes later Dean was still scowling, despite having devoured two very generous portions of apple pie, and we were far enough from the town on our way down the road to be able to speak freely.
"Dean…"
"How could you do that?" His voice was deeper when he was angry, "Offer her up like that? Doesn't matter that we can fix her, Ali; you betrayed her."
"You realise that she's your car, not your lover, don't you?" I asked dryly, and watched him blush. "So," I changed the topic, hoping that Dean would shut up about it; it's not as if I didn't feel bad enough already. "The locals give directions down this way, and sabotage the car, but there's been no effort to restrain us, and they say we can leave at sundown. I'd say there's something out this way that they want us to be here after dark for."
"Bastards didn't have to mess with my car though." He mumbled, and I sighed; it didn't look like I was going to be forgiven anytime soon. "Man and a woman, once a year, after dark and the locals are in on it. Does that sound sacrificial to you?"
"Yeah; perhaps something to do with a pagan festival? The Nordic spring blót is around this time." A blót is a sacrifice to the Norse gods, typically Odin, and the spring blót was especially important to ensure that winter ended and the gods brought summer back to the land. Most sacrifices would be cows, horses or pigs, but humans wasn't unheard of, and a man and a woman sounded like a fertility ritual; not surprising given all the associations between fertility and spring.
Dean hummed as we approached the orchard. The man at the general store had been right about the weather. I huddled further into my jacket, watching the mist creep between the trees that were only just beginning to show signs of new leaves. The place had an eerie, abandoned feel, and sounds didn't seem to travel through the mist.
A whistling noise sounded from Dean's pocket, "What the hell?" He pulled the EMF meter from his pocket, the lights on its top showing a fluctuating reading. We exchanged a look, then Dean switched the meter off, returning it to his pocket and we entered the orchard.
It was clearly a working orchard, the apple trees were well established and looked after, there was equipment such as ladders and buckets scattered about. We walked between the trees, not talking. The silence felt oppressive. Eventually we came to a scarecrow, raised high on a pole among the treetops.
"Dude, you're fugly." Dean told it, it offered no response.
Its face seemed to be sewn crudely together from several pieces of some kind of pale leather, its eyes were deep, empty sockets and it had neither nose nor mouth. It had scraggly grey hair and wore a brimmed hat and a long coat. It held a sickle in its right hand. Dean took a nearby ladder and placed it in front of the scarecrow; he climbed to the top, eye level with the scarecrow. He reached out, moving the scarecrow's sleeve to reveal the arm beneath. It was made of sewn together leather, like the face, but there was a mark on its arm; I tilted my head, stepping forward to get a better look as Dean pulled out the missing posters and compared the mark on its arm to something in the picture. "Nice tat."
"You're back." The girl from the general store smiled brightly at us as we returned to town.
"Never left." I smiled back at her, swinging Dean's hand back and forth.
"Not going far without my Baby." Dean grumbled beside me, before putting on a polite face and peering at the name necklace around the girl's neck. "So, Emily, you grew up here?"
She shook her head a little sadly, "I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in."
"They're nice people." I stated, reflecting that Dean's opinion on them was probably a little different.
"Everybody's nice here." Emily assured us.
"So, what, it's the, uh, perfect little town?" The sarcasm was barely veiled in his voice and I squeezed his hand in warning.
"Well, you know, it's the boonies." She shrugged. "But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it's almost like we're blessed." Interesting. Dean and I glanced at each other, silently confirming our sacrifice theory.
"Hey, you been out to the orchard?" I asked her, shuddering slightly, "You seen that scarecrow?"
"Yeah, it creeps me out." She shuddered right along with me, causing Dean to laugh a little.
"Whose is it?" He asked.
"I don't know. It's just always been there."
We excused ourselves and returned to the café, heads together, sappy smiles in place and voices lowered; the tone of our conversation a sharp juxtaposition to the looks on our faces.
"So, we got a scarecrow made out of the skins of the previous victims, and a town that is 'blessed'. Definitely something sacrificial."
"Any idea how we kill it? You know, before we get sacrificed tonight?"
"Umm…"
"Awesome."
Back in the café, Scotty seemed pleased to see us again, he made some noise about it being good to have a customer who properly appreciated the pie, and gave us a spiel about how the town was famous for their apples. Then he insisted that the pie was on the house, the fresh apple juice too.
We sat for a while, munching on pie, it really was very good, and sipping the apple juice, while I racked my brain for how to kill a god. Furthermore, an unknown god. Various methods are effective against various different gods, so who were we dealing with, and how do we kill them specifically?
Scotty came to refill our drinks, and I excused myself to go to the restroom, tapping Dean's shoulder as I left, a signal that he should keep Scotty busy. Once I was safely ensconced in the ladies room, I phoned Sam.
"Hey, Sam, what do you know about Pagan gods? And scarecrow effigies?"
"What makes you say that?"
"The annual cycle of the killings, and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals. The way they're treating us. Fattenin' us up like a Christmas turkey. All the apple pie you can eat, Dean's in heaven."
"The last meal." Sam realised, "Given to sacrificial victims."
"Yeah, so I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god." I kept my voice low, in case of eavesdroppers.
"And the scarecrow effigy?"
"Made from the skins of the victims. And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and disease won't spread."
"Do you know which god you're dealing with?"
"No, not yet."
"Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it."
"Well, that's actually why I'm phoning you. Dean and I are being sacrificed at sundown, find out what you can and phone me before then." Footsteps outside the bathroom drew my attention.
"Sundown? Ali-" I cut Sam off as I hung up the phone and flushed the unused toilet, washing my hands and smiling at Scotty as I returned to the table.
We were stuffed by the time the man from the general store came by to tell us that the car was fixed. We did our best to smile and seem grateful, pleased to be on our way again. It was difficult though, this man had played around with Baby, probably setting her up to breakdown as we were leaving town, and planned to sacrifice us to a Pagan god. Also, to top it all off, Sam had never phoned me back.
We drove out of town, following the directions given and, sure enough, the car stopped just outside the orchard. Dean looked at me, popping the hood and getting out. The look in his eye told me that I'd had a terrible idea, using ourselves at bait, that I'd betrayed both Baby and him, allowing strangers to work on her and mess her up, and that I'd best sleep with one eye open.
I've seen Dean furious, and this isn't it, but it isn't far off.
I got out as well, coming around to shine a torch into the engine bay. "Do you think we should go into the orchard? Go find that scarecrow?"
"Why?" Dean growled at me, reaching forwards to start checking electrical connections. "We still don't know how to kill it."
I pulled my phone from my pocket, thinking to phone Sam for an update. "No bars." I put it back into my pocket. "We could always try an assortment of guns and knives and see if we get lucky?"
Dean gave me a slightly incredulous look. "Or we could fix up Baby and get out of town, come back in the morning."
I hooked the torch onto the bonnet, angling it so that the light shone into the engine bay. I started rooting around, trying to diagnose the fault. There hadn't been any strange noises, she'd been running fine, but had suddenly died; as if she were out of fuel. I ducked back into the car, checking the fuel gauge, which read full, and then I moved over to the fuel tank at the back of the car. Laying on the ground I reached under the car and rapped my knuckles on the tank, it rang hollow and empty.
"Found the problem, Dean." I stated, pulling myself to my feet. "We're out of fuel."
"Are you sure?" He stuck his head into the car, checking the same gauge I'd looked at.
"Yeah, she's empty." I dusted off my clothes and opened the boot, pulling open the secret armoury and grabbing various different knives; silver, iron, steel, bronze, gold, one of everything we had. I arranged them in my waistband and then started loading a magazine with an assortment of different 9mm rounds.
Dean meanwhile pulled the jack from the boot and positioned it under the rear of the car. He started lifting the car to get a better look at the underside, a second torch on the ground beside him. I crouched down and took a cursory glance at the underside of the vehicle. There was no obvious damage, chances were that they'd drained the tank and broken the gauge to keep it reading full.
"I'll head back to town. See if I can't recover some of our fuel." I told my brother, "You check they didn't do anything worse and we can get going when I get back."
With admonitions to be careful we parted ways and I headed directly towards the town, through the orchard.
"Wow." I murmured to myself as I walked along, a shotgun held to my uninjured shoulder. "And I thought this place was creepy in the daylight."
I'd left the torches with Dean; I didn't want to advertise exactly where I was. And besides, I can see well in the dark, better than any human. The mist of the day had settled down into dew, soaking the bottoms of my jeans, and early spring leaves shifted in the light breeze, making a soft rustling which helped to disguise the sound of footsteps through the grass below. Shadows shifted as I moved through the trees, all my senses alert for the probable threat.
I could feel eyes on me, as I moved further into the orchard, far enough now that I could no longer hear Dean, nor see the light of his torches. Something moved in the corner of my eye and I spun, but could see nothing. I turned a slow 360° and froze. The pole that the scarecrow had hung from when Dean and I had investigated the orchard that afternoon was empty.
I stood still, feeling the eyes on me, listening to the wind whistling in the treetops and my pulse rushing in my ears. I could keep going, get the fuel and get back, maybe. Or I could go back to Dean empty-handed, maybe. Or I could hunt the scarecrow which was hunting me and hope that one of my knives or bullets would be the right one.
I started to move back in the direction of Dean, the car, and safety. I could feel the eyes on me every step of the way, but I could see nothing moving amongst the trees.
After some time the lights came back into view and I made a break for it, running through the trees, not sure if anything was chasing me or not, but not daring to look back and check. I raced through the archway which marked the entrance to the orchard and Dean looked up from where he'd been tinkering with the dashboard, grabbing a gun and running to my side as I stood, breathing heavily, pointing the shotgun back towards the darkness I'd emerged from.
The darkness was still, the night peaceful.
"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam asked.
Dean and I had spent the night in the car, tucked under blankets and taking turns to keep watch through the long, cold, uneventful night, before walking back to town in the morning to buy fuel, lamenting to the locals that the fuel gauge was broken and that you just can't trust these old cars. We were on the road again now, and phone signal had returned a few miles outside of town.
"Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun Town." Dean was still irritable after yesterday and it showed in his voice.
"It didn't hurt you, did it?" Sam asked, worry evident in his tone.
"No, I didn't even see it." I told him, "Just the empty cross. I think if we'd both been in the orchard it might have attacked, but Dean was back with the car, so the sacrifice was incomplete."
"We didn't really want to tangle with it, you know, since our trusty sidekick geek boy didn't manage to call us."
"Sorry, guys. I did try calling you, but it was pretty late, and the call didn't go through. I was really worried." The last was almost whispered and Dean and I exchanged a look.
"Actually, Sam," Dean seemed pretty uncomfortable and I looked away, giving him the illusion of privacy. "uh—I want you to know….I mean, don't think…."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, too."
"Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life." I raised my eyebrows at my reflection in the window. I hadn't expected such acceptance from Dean.
"Are you serious?" Apparently, neither had Sam.
"You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway… I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."
"I don't even know what to say."
"Tell us what you found on the scarecrow."
Sam huffed a slight laugh, and his voice was more confident when he continued. "So, get this, the Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, 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."
"That sounds like our guy, Sammy." I said, turning away from the window. "How do we kill it?"
"Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic. This particular Vanir, that energy sprung from a sacred tree."
"So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?" Dean hypothesized.
The smell of damp earth invaded my nostrils, that and the pounding in my head were the first things I was aware of. I groaned and sat up a little, prompting Dean to ask me how I was feeling. We were sitting in a cellar, daylight streaming through the wooden slates of the door to the outside. Dean had been holding me against his shoulder; he'd obviously been awake for a little while and was peering at me in concern. I groaned a reply and reached out, pulling the pain from his bruises and the goose egg on the back of his head.
He smiled grimly at me in thanks, then propped me up against the shelves we'd been leaning against and climbed the stairs to the door, banging his shoulder against them in a futile attempt to break them open. I sat where he'd left me, trying to put my thoughts in order and remember what had happened. We'd ended the conversation with Sam full of optimism. We'd search the orchard, the whole town if we needed to, for this sacred tree, burn it, and meet up with Sam to go to California and search for Dad. Sam was still stuck at the bus station because the next bus to Cali didn't leave until 5pm this afternoon.
We'd pulled up outside the orchard, taken a small jerry can of fuel from the boot and a lighter and proceeded into the orchard. We hadn't gotten far.
There was a group of locals waiting for us, armed with shotguns and the element of surprise, they had surrounded us. There'd been a brief fight, but I'd taken a blow to the head and didn't remember anything after that. I groaned again, hauling myself unsteadily to my feet and taking stock of my injuries. The stab wound in my shoulder was throbbing, the stitches probably torn, and my legs were cold and stiff from sitting on the cold floor of the cellar, there were a few bruises scattered about, nothing serious, and the throbbing headache, keeping perfect time with my shoulder wound. I was slightly dizzy, but my vision remained clear, so it was only a slight concussion, I could deal with this.
I made my way on legs that were simultaneously stiff and wobbly over to the bottom of the stairs. Dean noted my approach and reached out a hand to help me up the stairs. I pushed at the locked doors above us, they didn't move, I exerted more pressure, and then I tried landing a few blows. I was too wobbly to have much impact though. Dean pulled me away, guiding me to sit on the stairs.
He went back to banging on the cellar door and I searched the room for my bag. It was missing and I felt naked without it. My weapons, my food, torch, lighters, phone… my phone! I checked my pockets, just in case, but it wasn't there.
"Dean?" My voice was croaky, and talking hurt my head, "Dean, do you have your phone?"
"Nah." He didn't bother to check his pockets, he must have realised before I woke up. "They emptied my pockets before throwing us down here."
He gave up on the door, coming to sit beside me on the step and wrapping an arm around me where I sat shivering slightly from the cold.
I was hungry, we'd not eaten since breakfast, and judging by the way the light was shifting outside, it was long past lunch. My stomach told me we'd probably missed dinner too, sat in this cold, miserable hole.
Hours passed and I got steadily colder and hungrier. Dean was suffering alongside me, and I was able to draw his pain away, so he didn't feel the cold, or the hunger gnawing at his belly. The energy helped some, but my fingers and toes were starting to turn numb, and hunger for pain and hunger for food are separate, I still needed food.
The door above us rattled as someone unlocked the chain that had held it shut and we stood, turning to glare defiantly up as the door opened, revealing the couple from the general store, Scotty and the town sheriff. All had shotguns trained on us.
"It's time." The woman announced.
They dragged us to the orchard, I had struggled at first, despite my injuries, and now there were two town elders holding my arms and another walking behind, a shotgun held to the small of my back. Dean was in a similar position and we were both obviously furious, glowering at the elders as they tied us to adjacent trees in the orchard, our backs to the nearby scarecrow.
"How many people have you killed, Sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?"
"We don't kill them." The sheriff replied, standing over Dean with a shotgun in his hands.
"No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?" The sheriff walked away without answering, the rest of the elders following.
"I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!" Dean shouted after them.
The cord they'd used to bind us was thin, but strong, and wrapped multiple times around each separate wrist. It's always easier to escape if the hands are tied together and I twisted in my bonds in frustration, trying to see the ropes above my head and behind me.
"Reckon you can get out of this one, Houdini?"
"I'm working on it" I mumbled, twisting and pulling at the cords, gritting my teeth as my actions caused them to dig into the skin of my wrists.
I was still concussed, my thoughts still foggy and my head still dizzy; it wasn't helping. I couldn't quite bring my strength to bear from this position, couldn't find an angle I could pull or push against to snap the cord, and every time I tried the cords dug deeper into my wrists.
"How's it coming?" Dean asked after some time. The sun had set while I'd struggled and the increasing gloom set my nerves on edge.
"I'm workin' on it." I growled at my brother. "Can you see?"
"What?"
"Is he moving yet?"
Dean twisted, peering over his shoulder, "I can't see." A twig snapped somewhere behind us and Dean and I made eye contact. "Crap."
We both struggled frantically with our bonds until, "Dean? Ali?"
"Sammy!" I couldn't describe the relief that washed through me at the sound of my baby brother's voice.
"Oh! Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on." Dean's voice reflected the joy I felt and we both sagged against the trees we were tied to as Sam moved to Dean, taking a knife to the cords at his wrists. "How'd you get here?"
"I, uh—I stole a car."
I smiled, but Dean outright laughed. "Haha! That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."
"What scarecrow?" At Sam's question Dean pulled himself abruptly from the ground, all humour gone. He grabbed the knife from Sam, cutting through the cords that bound me and pulling me to my feet.
I stumbled slightly, the dizziness further impeding my ability to run, not that I was ever that good at running. My brothers kept a grip on each of my arms, pulling me along between them as they jogged towards the place we'd left the car, hopefully she'd still be there.
"Alright, now, this sacred tree you're talking about—"
"They found us before we found it, Sammy."
"So let's find it now and burn it."
"Nah, in the morning. Let's just shag ass before Leather Face catches up." Dean argued as we reached a clearing, finding our path blocked by the couple from the general store. "This way." He tugged on my arm, turning me back the way we'd come, only to find that we'd been surrounded, for the second time that day.
"Please," I called out. "Let us go." Unlikely, but worth a shot.
"It'll be over quickly, I promise." The man tried to reason with us. "You have to let him take you. You have to—"
The rest of his words were cut off as the tip of the sickle appeared, dripping with blood, from his chest. His wife stood beside him screamed and the scarecrow's arm wrapped around her throat. The townspeople ran in fright, but we stood, frozen, watching the scarecrow drag the screaming woman away, his sickle now through the ankle of her dead husband.
"Come on, let's go." Dean was the first of us to recover, leading us back to the car. We jumped at every little noise, but saw nothing more of the scarecrow, his victims or the townsfolk.
When morning came we ventured once more into the orchard with our jerry can. This time no one tried to stop us. We found the tree, ancient and engraved with runes on the trunk, prayers offering the dedication of the people to the god within the tree. The accelerant was poured on, and lit from a safe distance. It went up in a great puff of flame before settling to a steady burn. We stood in the chilly orchard, arms wrapped around ourselves and felt the warmth on our faces as the tree that had been the center of such archaic and fatal traditions, finally went up in flames.
"What about the rest of the townspeople?" Sam asked. "They'll just get away with it?"
"Well, what'll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough." Dean turned and started walking away, we followed. "So, can we drop you off somewhere?"
"No," Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "I think you're stuck with me."
"What made you change your mind?"
"I didn't. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass." Dean nodded, seeming almost proud of that fact. "But, Jess and Mum—they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, Ali and me. We're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together."
Dean stopped at the edge of the orchard, turning back to face us. "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful."
Dean reached to place a hand on Sam's shoulder and Sam batted it away, laughing, "You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude."
"Yeah, right. I had a plan, I'd have gotten out."
"Right." Sam agreed, smirking at me. I smiled back, glad to have both brothers in one place and in high spirits. If only Dad were here, it would be perfect.
