Happy Doctor Who Day! Can't wait to see what happens this time next year! ;)
Saturday, October 5th, 2008
Merrifield, Virginia
Once he finished explaining what happened, Dean burst into laughter. Sam couldn't tell what the intention behind it was – whether Dean was so angry all he could do was laugh, or if he was relishing in the mental image of some random guy pushing him and Skye into a fountain – but frankly he didn't care. He had to put all his energy into remembering every single detail he saw on the map.
The first thing he did right after getting dry clothes on was grab the complimentary pad of motel paper and start sketching. Sam was by no means an artist, but he was confident enough in his own abilities to at least give them something to work with.
He did his best to dredge up as many details as possible. He first drew the forked path and Adolf's Stream bisecting the eastern spoke. The northern spoke continued off the page with the label "to Oxbow Manor." He was sure not to leave out the central X in the lower left quadrant, and even added the backwards Confederate flag and "R.I.C." in the bottom right corner.
Dean eventually managed to regain his composure (with the help of a hard slap across the back from Bobby) but Sam still couldn't tell if he was angry or amused.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dean said, still struggling to speak through laughter. "But you seriously just let some guy mug you, then push you in a fountain? What the hell, man?"
"I already told you, Dean," Sam said as he scanned his roughly-drawn map for any details he might have forgotten. "The guy had a machine gun trained on us. I didn't have my gun on me, and I didn't want to do anything to make him blow us to smithereens."
"And what's with that, too?" Dean questioned. His tone made it apparent to Sam that his mood had settled on angry. "You never go anywhere without your gun. Ever. You know better than that."
"Well, sorry," Sam said. "I was going into a bank to potentially steal something. I wasn't going to get tagged for armed robbery again. Not if I could help it."
He shot a look over at Skye as he said that last part. He'd let her know on the drive back that she should have let him know that she had a knife before they went in the bank. He was just making sure the note struck home. The slightly guilty look she gave as she continued to tap away at her computer's keys made it clear that it had.
"But still, how does someone push you into a fountain?" Dean asked. "I mean, Skye, I get. She's soaking wet and I could still push her down like she's nothing…"
"Thanks," Skye said. "That really makes me feel great about myself."
"…But you?" Dean continued as if he didn't hear Skye's comment. "You'd have better luck knocking over Chewbacca."
"That's enough," Bobby warned Dean. "This isn't helping anything."
"Well, I have something that'll help," Skye offered as she set her laptop down on the coffee table. "I've been all across the web – Facebook, Google, even those stupid family tree sites – and as far as I can tell, Warren Sorrow is an only child."
"That's not surprising at all," Sam remarked.
"I think it might have been our mugger," Skye said as she pulled her still-damp hair back into a ponytail. "He's probably been looking to get his hands on the treasure for a while."
"There still probably isn't a treasure," Sam warned again.
"Why take the map then?" Skye questioned.
"Because he's an idiot who fell for the same scam as his buddy Sorrow," Dean offered, but that didn't seem to convince Skye.
"It was clutched in a severed hand." She gestured over to the dining table, where Burns inspecting the hand for any possible clues or evidence. "I mean who cuts off a person's hand just to stick a fake map in it?"
"A grave-robber I'd assume," Burns answered, barely even looking up from her specimen. "Judging by the lack of blood and evidence of embalming, I'd say this hand was severed a good long while after death. Chances are this hand belonged to someone who actually severed in the Civil War."
"So does that make it legit?" Skye asked. Burns shrugged.
"Who knows?" she said. "This could've been a decoy map meant to fool treasure hunters and scavengers. It might not actually lead to anything."
"Doesn't matter if it does," Bobby said. "Sorrow thought it was real and he died for it. Now he ain't gonna rest until his killers are served proper justice."
"How're we supposed to go about that?" Skye questioned. "I'm not an expert, but I think I've seen enough CSI to know that we've tampered with enough evidence to keep any case from going to trial."
"Easy," Dean said. "We turn Sorrow onto his killers. Let him take his own revenge. Then, he'll be able to move on." Skye raised her eyebrows.
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Dean turned to Sam.
"You still got that ritual we used for Bela last year?" Sam nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "You want to use it to summon Sorrow?"
"Uh-huh," Dean said. "That way all we gotta do is find Sorrow's killers, summon Sorrow, and let nature take it's course."
"Why do I feel like that's easier said than done?" Skye asked. "We don't even know who the killers are."
"But we know where they're going to be," Dean said. "That is, if Sammy stops taking his sweet time and draws the damn map." Sam dramatically huffed before pushing the paper over to Burns.
"I think I remembered all of the important details," he said. "But it's still probably not entirely accurate." Burns took the paper and inspected it thoroughly with careful eyes.
"Oxbow Manor…" she murmured to herself. "You know, when I saw 'Oxbow' in the text message, I thought it might be referring to this."
"What is it?" Bobby asked.
"It's an old manor house located on the edge of the battlefield," Burns explained. "It's not too far from the construction site. That's probably where they'll start their search from."
"And the X is where they'll be heading," Sam concluded.
"Alright, we know what to do and where to go," Bobby said. "Let's grab what we need and get this show on the road."
In an instant Burns was out of her seat, eyes wide and practically standing in Bobby's face.
"You're not going now, are you?" Gently pushing her half a step back, Bobby narrowed his eyes at her.
"Of course we are," he said. "We gotta get this taken care of before someone else who isn't involved gets hurt."
"Oh, well, uh, why don't I go with you?" Burns suggested. "I mean, I know the area. I might be able to point you in the right direction."
Bobby, Sam, and Dean all exchanged looks. Clearly Burns' reaction was strange, but it wasn't like there was any real reason to turn her down. With a breath of exasperation, Bobby reluctantly shrugged.
"Alright," he said. "But we're taking your car. I'm pretty sure the seats of mine are still soaked." Apparently relieved, Burns nodded.
"That's fine," she said. "That works out good."
She finally stepped out of Bobby's personal space, exiting out the front door. Presumably to get her car started. The rest of the group remained in place, each of them trying to sort out for themselves Burns' unusual behavior.
"Is she alright?" Skye questioned.
"I think she has some kind of issue," was the only explanation Bobby could offer.
"Maybe that's why you forgot her," Dean suggested.
"Lord knows at this point," Bobby remarked with a shake of his head as he headed for the door himself. "Come on. We're wasting daylight standing around here."
Manassas, Virginia
"Fire!"
Skye winced as the sound of a cannon firing reverberated through the air. It wasn't particularly loud as they'd parked a good football field's length away from the action, but she could feel the concussive blast straight in her bones. The closest thing she could compare it to was getting hit by a mid-sized sedan backing out of a Wal-Mart parking lot. It wasn't going to kill you, but you'd be feeling it.
At some point someone must have taken notice of her flinching, as she had a few sets of eyes on her. Skye did her best to wave them off.
"I'm fine," she said. "Wasn't expecting that." At least now she knew to brace herself if someone yelled "fire" again.
When they pulled up to the site, they were surprised to find a crowd of people already gathered there. They had their cars lined up on the side of the dirt road and had set up coolers, lawn chairs, and tents to shade them from the worst of the sun's rays. What they showed up for wasn't left in doubt for long as shots rang out and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. They were watching a Civil War reenactment.
Skye wasn't sure if the reenactment came as a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, if park rangers stumbled across them trekking through the woods, they could easily say that they had come to watch the reenactment and got lost. On the other hand, they could end up too close to civilians for their plan to work. She looked to Sam and Dean to gauge their reactions, but Dean seemed to be concerned about something else.
"Thought this was supposed to be a manor," he said. "I don't see any fancy houses around here."
"The manor was here," Burns explained as she led them to a framed map on the edge of the parking lot. "It burned down in the Second Battle for Bull Run, which is probably what they're reenacting over there." She gestured to the mock-battle. "Nowadays it's used as kind of a guide point. There are a few different hiking trails that meet up and run through here."
"Any of them historical?" Bobby asked.
"All of them are," Burns said. "When they established the national park, they packed the trails already worn-down by regular foot traffic with dirt and kept up with regular maintenance." Reaching the posted map, Sam held up his crudely drawn map to it for comparison.
"Were these all of the trails that were around in the 1860s, or just some of them?" he asked.
"I have no way to know for sure," Burns said. "Why?"
"I was thinking that the big path on the fork is probably the main trail, and the smaller one that's branching off was one that was less used," he explained. "Like a short-cut that not many people knew about."
"In other words, it's probably not there anymore," Dean concluded.
"Remnants still might be," Sam said. "There's a bridge not far from where the paths branch off. We'll know we're on the right track if we find that."
"Hey, wait," Skye said, gesturing to the park's map. "I'm not seeing Adolf's Stream on here."
"Oh, it's here," Burns said, putting a finger on the map and tracing one of the blue lines labeled "Dougal's Stream." "It's this one right here. It was named for Confederate General Adolf Dougal, but after World War II they altered the name for obvious reasons."
"You ask me, they should've changed the name altogether," Dean remarked.
"Groveton's path runs alongside it," Burns continued pointing out the green trail that ran perpendicular to the stream. Both went started at the southern edge of the park, went past the manor site, and terminated back at the main branch of Bull Run. "And based on the orientation of the map, I suggest we start near some of my old dig sites, to the north."
"Hold on there a second," Bobby said, taking the map from Sam. "I think there might be a trick here."
"A trick?" Sam questioned. "What do you mean?"
"In times of war," Bobby said. "Map makers would often do things like change the orientation of north and south. That way if the map fell into enemy hands, it'd leave 'em confused."
"How do you know this?" Sam asked.
"I've had to decode a few of these in my time," Bobby explained. "I think this time they might've left us a hint." He pointed to the Confederate flag drawn in the corner. "That flag is backwards."
"How can a flag be backwards?" Skye asked.
"Well, which direction do you normally see flags drawn?" Bobby asked.
"Left to right," Dean answered before Skye could. "That one's right to left."
"So are they saying that left is right?" Skye frowned. "…Or right is left? Or…." She held up her hands, making two "L" shapes with her pointer fingers and thumbs. "Which one's which again?"
"Well, at least they were successful in confusing you," Bobby remarked. "But I think their message was simpler than that." He then turned the page one-hundred eighty degrees, putting Oxbow Manor to the north.
"Everything's backwards," Skye concluded. "That means whatever we're looking for is south of here."
"Question is, do our treasure hunters know that?" Dean questioned.
"Probably not," Bobby said. "You and Sam take the north just in case they weren't smart enough to figure out the map. I'll take the girls to the south and get everything set up."
"You sure splitting up's a good idea?" Sam asked.
"Not like we have much of a choice," Bobby said. "You two call if you find anything or anyone suspicious." Reluctantly, Sam nodded in agreement.
"Alright," he agreed. "And you call us when you find the place."
"Count on it."
Bobby then turned in the direction to the southern stretch of path, with Skye and Burns quickly moving to follow him. As they walked away, Skye glanced back and was certain she heard Dean make some remark about hiking shorts before he and Sam turned off to follow their own path.
They found absolutely nothing. The two of them walked the entire northern stretch of the Groveton path all the way to where it met up with Bull Run. They saw no branching paths, no forks, no bridges, and certainly no treasure hunters. They hadn't even seen a regular civilian. Presumably, they were all over by the manor site, watching the Civil War reenactment take place. By the time they made it back to the map station where they had initially split up, the sun was already starting to set and the spectators were packing up their things to call it a day.
Given that they weren't the most experienced of hikers and the terrain was sort of rough, both Dean and Sam were breathless upon their return. Silently agreeing that a break wouldn't be a bad idea, the brothers plopped down on the ground and leaned back against the sign. A woman who was heading back to her car noticed how exhausted they looked and offered them two extra water bottles she had in her cooler. The two of them accepted gratefully. Sam started chugging his down as soon as he broke the seal, while Dean poured some water over his sweaty face before taking a long, drawn-out sip.
Neither of them said anything for the longest time. Their lungs were too constricted to allow for speech. Dean put a hand over the center of his abdomen. With every breath he took it felt like something sharp was piercing his spinal cord and moving straight through his body to the other side. He was beginning to wonder if that was a sign of a heart attack when Sam finally found it in him to speak.
"Still haven't heard from Bobby?" he asked Dean, given that he had the only working cellphone between the two of them. Upon flipping the phone open, Dean didn't see any new notification of a missed text or voice message. He shook his head.
"I don't get this," he said. "I have a full five bars. If Bobby called, it should have gone through."
"Maybe he doesn't have coverage," Sam suggested. "Or they haven't found it yet." Dean frowned, flipping the phone shut.
"I don't like it," he said. "It's getting dark. If they couldn't find it, I'd imagine Bobby would've made them turn back by now."
"Well, let's wait a few minutes, then," Sam said. "Chances are, they're on their way."
The bad feeling dwelling in Dean's gut seemed to tell him otherwise, but he was willing to ignore it for a bit in hopes that Sam would be right. He took another drag from his water bottle, hoping the cool water would do something to settle his nerves. It didn't.
Not helping was the attitude Sam seemed to be carrying. They barely spoke the entire way up and down the path. Dean didn't have to guess to figure out what it was about, and there was only one way they were going to be able to move past it.
"Look, I know I've been treating Skye wrong," Dean said. "You don't need to call me out again or act all huffy. I'll knock it off."
Sam turned his head enough to be able to look at his brother through the corner of narrowed eyes.
"What?"
"I talked to Bobby, I thought about it… I don't know. I still can't trust her, but I do know that I gotta treat her like a human being or whatever." Dean took another pull from the water bottle. The entire time he could feel Sam's gaze remain solidly on him, his expression never wavering. Dean pulled the bottle away from his lips with an audible pop. "What?"
"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Dean frowned, resealing the bottle, and slamming it on the ground next to him.
"Not funny, Sam," he said. "A guy can't figure out he was being an asshole and apologize for it?"
"One, that was not an apology," Sam pointed out. "Two, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
"She's not the one whose acting all pissy in front of me right now." Sam huffed and looked away. Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I'll say something to her later. Can we just put this to bed? 'Cause I'm tired of fighting."
"Dean?"
"I'm still pissed about Ruby and the whole psychic thing," Dean continued, ignoring whatever argument Sam was trying to form. "Don't get me wrong – that'll take ages to forgive if I ever do – but…"
"Dean!" This time Sam's protest was accompanied by a hard slap to the shoulder. He turned, ready to ask what his problem was, only to see Sam's finger steadily pointing at something across the field. "That's him," he said. "That's the guy who mugged us."
Following his brother's finger, Dean saw a man in either his late-thirties or early-forties in a dark-blue Union army uniform. He was chatting with another reenactor and was too engaged in the conversation to notice that the guy he'd mugged that morning was sitting ten feet away. It wasn't going to stay like that for long, though.
Within seconds of pointing it out, the brothers were on their feet and stomping towards the man. Dean let out a gruff call of "hey," easily catching the man's attention. If the recognition in the man's brown eyes as soon as he saw Sam wasn't enough to confirm that it was the same guy, the fact that he bolted in the direction of the woods did. Despite being out of breath and exhausted from their trek through the forest, both Winchesters were able to kick it into high gear in pursuit of their target.
The man couldn't make it far. He panicked and the shoes – while probably perfectly suited for war in the 1860s – were hard to run in. He kept slipping and stumbling in his rush to get away, making it for Dean to tackle him from behind. While he worked on keeping the guy pinned underneath him, Sam was rattling off some excuse to the gathering, concerned crowd; likely saying that they were federal agents. Once he felt he had the man pinned securely enough, Dean leaned forward, both to hear what the man had to say and to put extra pressure on his chest.
"What's your name?" he demanded. Though his voice shook, the man didn't hesitate in giving a response.
"Kearns," he blurted out. "Judd Kearns." Dean frowned.
"Kearns?" he questioned. "Warren Sorrow's buddy?"
"Yeah," Kearns confirmed. "What about it?"
"You seemed awfully eager to get your hands on that map," Dean said. "I mean you mugged that agent over there for it."
"We didn't hurt him or the girl," Kearns insisted. "For God's sake, the gun was unloaded."
"I'm just wondering if you would've been willing to kill for it," Dean said.
"What are you talking about?" Kearns questioned. "I never killed anyone."
"What about Sorrow?"
As soon as the question came out of Dean's mouth, Kearns' body stiffened unnaturally, and his breathing hitched as though he'd been burned. That was a hard reaction to fake, as was the devastation in the man's voice.
"Warren's dead?" he questioned. "No, that can't be right." Deciding to take the man's reaction at face value, Dean pressed further.
"He's been missing for months," he said. "What did you think happened to him?"
"She told me he got cold feet and took off with all our money," Kearns explained. "I thought he was living it up on a beach in Cancun or something."
"Who told you that?" Dean questioned.
"Elaine," Kearns answered. "She's the leader of our group."
It felt as though ice water had washed over Dean.
"Elaine Burns," he said. "She's the leader of your group?"
"Yeah," Kearns confirmed.
"Dean." He turned his head to look at Sam, whose face was growing more horrified as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "We didn't tell her what kind of bullet killed Flores, did we?"
It didn't even need to be a question. Dean was cursing and ordering Sam to hold down Kearns while he got to his feet. Knowing he wouldn't need to explain things to his brother, Dean took off in the direction of the southern stretch of the Groveton path. He only slowed down to pull his phone out of his pocket and dial Bobby's number. The phone rang seven times before going to voicemail.
"Shit!" Dean put all his strength into keeping up his intense run, and all his concentration into looking for landmarks from the map. The whole time, he prayed that he wouldn't be too late.
Thank you to READINGREADER for the comment and Beth_Mac for leaving kudos on AO3! You're all fantastic!
None of this is at all accurate to the actual layout of the historic Bull Run battlefield site. I just took the directions they used in NCIS and tried to vaguely apply it to what I could see on Google Maps. This is all fictionalized.
Anyway, please comment or review if you enjoyed this chapter!
Remember kids, if right is left and left is right but right is right and left is left… Which one is which again?
Originally uploaded to FFN on 11/19/22.