Chapter 9:

A/N: Winding close to the end here people. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, I have. I decided the boys needed to be on their own again for a while, doing what they do best…getting into trouble.

Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd probably be selfish and not share.

(--)

Sam and Dean bolted from their seats the moment the scream reached their ears. Mrs. Quinn wasn't far behind. The brother's bolted out the back door, leaping over the stairs onto the lawn and darting for the woods. Dean dropped out of his sprint less than ten yards in. Night was rapidly approaching, and the forest was already dark. His head whipped back and forth. "Where'd it come from?"

Sam squinted. "I don't know."

"Parker!" Sam and Dean yelled together. No answer came. "Parker!" Silence.

Then Mrs. Quinn caught up to them. "This way," she panted. "The deer trail," she pointed to a narrow, worn path cutting between the trees, "there." Sam saw it first, and set off at a fast trot. He had to be careful if he didn't want to overrun any clues.

Luckily for the brothers, the signs of a struggle weren't hard to spot. The grass had been tramped down, and leaves and broken branches littered the ground. There was no sign of Parker. Dean kneeled and flipped open his cell phone, the only source of light they had. His scowl deepened. "Hey Sammy, get over here."

Dean pressed his fingers onto the ground. They came away wet, and warm. He rubbed his fingers together and sniffed. He held his hand up for Sam to do the same. "Smell like blood to you?"

"Yep," Sam responded grimly. The dark liquid had a distinct metallic scent. He'd smelled it enough in the last few months to recognize it instantly. "Think it's Parker's, or the Demon?" he kept his voice low so Mrs. Quinn wouldn't hear.

"Parker," Dean said calmly. "Out here, not expecting it and no weapon… I can't see her getting a decent piece of that thing. Question in my mind has to be, is she alive, or dead?"

"So what do we tell her mother?"

"The truth," Dean shrugged, "and just hope it prompts her to give us some answers."

The brothers led a dazed, confused Mrs. Quinn back to her house. The small woman shook like a leaf, even as she sat down on her couch. Sam quickly took her coffee and zapped it in the microwave before returning the steaming mug. Mrs. Quinn took it wordlessly, and some of the dark liquid spilled onto her leg. "Parker, it has my Parker too?"

"Looks that way," Sam confirmed.

"Mrs. Quinn, you said you couldn't believe this was happening again," Dean pressed. "Does that mean you got rid of it the first time?"

"Yes."

"But how did you do that if you can't kill it?" Sam queried.

"You can not kill the spirit that is Akvan," Dark eyes lifted, and for the first time, the brothers saw in them someone who had seen a glimpse of the dark world they lived in every day. "But you can send it back."

"How? How do we send it back? How do we fight it?" Dean locked onto her eyes, his gaze unwavering.

The woman frowned, her forehead creasing as she thought how to explain it. "Akvan's spirit not live in the body you saw, so the body not can be killed. When the demon comes to here," she made a wide arc with one arm, "demon puts spirit elsewhere. You kill the vessel of the spirit, it returns to the body you fight. Then the body can die."

"Okay," Sam said, drawing out the word. "So where is this vessel exactly?"

"And what is it?" Dean asked.

"I not know where vessel is. When I summon," she choked on the word, "I kept vessel with me. That how I got rid of the first time. But who knows where now, or if one who summon even knows."

"But what is it?" Dean asked her again. "What are we looking for?"

"Akvan vessel is goat."

"Excuse me, it's what?" Sam shook his head. His concussion was getting the better of him, or else her accent was, but he must have heard her wrong.

"Goat," Mrs. Quinn said slowly, careful to enunciate. "It's goat."

Dean sat back on the coffee table and let out a bitter laugh. "Of course it is." Stifling a pained, irritated sigh he looked back at Mrs. Quinn. "Do you have any idea who else might know about the Akvan legend?"

"No," she shook her head, "but was popular story in Iran. Most children hear it."

Fat lot of good that did them. Colorado wasn't exactly the most diverse state the brothers had ever visited. The chances of their being another Iranian immigrant who knew the Akvan legend in the vicinity of Deerville and Walden was slim he was sure. It had to be someone who knew the Quinn's, possibly even someone who knew what Mrs. Quinn had done. Akvan showing up again after nearly a decade and going after members of the woman's family was entirely too big a coincidence for Dean to believe.

The slight inclination of Dean's head toward the front door told Sam it was time to go. "Mrs. Quinn, just one more thing?"

"Yes?" she sniffed.

"Does Walden have a library?"

The question seemed to puzzle her. "No, no library. Records and archives kept in Town Hall. Opens at 9 tomorrow."

"Thank you." Sam rested a hand on her shoulder. He hated to leave her in such a state of distress, but he and Dean were working against the clock with very little information to go on. "Will you be all right by yourself?" Dean had already risen and was standing by the front door.

"Yes, yes I fine. Please, just bring my daughters back to me. Please." Sam glanced at Dean. Neither one of them had the heart to tell them that even if they found the girls alive, she'd probably already lost Parker.

Sam nodded. "We'll do our best," he assured her. Then he headed for the door. Dean went through first, and Sam shut the door behind him. Sam looked over at his brother and said what had been on his mind since the questioning had begun. "A goat? We're looking for a goat somewhere in the Rocky Mountains?"

Dea's face remained expressionless. "Baaaaahhh."

(--)

Consciousness returned to Parker slowly, painfully. Her mind first registered the quiet trickle of nearby water, and second the rough, cold ground on which she lay. She wanted to move, to open her eyes, but her body refused to obey. She felt like she was clawing at the back of her own eyes, trying to drag herself toward awareness. Her eyelids fluttered then, an act that took far more will than it should have. She would have been just as well off saving herself the effort. It was pitch black, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. A loud, low groan escaped her lips. "Holy shit," she croaked, arching her lower back away from the rock, "that hurts."

"Parker?" The familiar voice emanated from nearby, disbelieving.

"Angie?" Ignoring the aching cry coming from every inch of her body Parker rolled onto her side and sat up.

"Don't move," the disembodied voice told her. "We're on a ledge." Angie crawled forward on her hands and knees, patting the darkness before her with her hands as she inched along.

Parker's fingers curled, scraping slowly on the rock. Less than a foot to her left her hand fell away into nothingness. Crap. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping desperately that the demon hadn't taken up residence where she thought. Her right hand closed around a small stone, about the size of a peach pit. She hefted it over the ledge and waited. She never heard it land. Double crap.

Then Angie was beside her, and Parker felt her baby sister wrap her arms around her shoulders. She wished it wasn't so dark. She wanted to see Angie's face, she wanted to look into her eyes and assure herself that this all wasn't just some pleasant nightmare. "I can't believe you're here," Angie said, the sound muffled Parker's sweatshirt. "You found me."

"Well yeah….kinda." Parker patted her sister's arm. "This isn't exactly the brilliant rescue situation I had planned."

Angie shook her head furiously, her vice like grip on Parker's shoulders never wavering. "It doesn't matter. I mean, this means everyone knows where we are."

"Everyone?"

"The rescue teams you brought back with you." Parker cringed, and was suddenly glad of the darkness. She reached up and plucked Angie's arms from around her. This was gonna take a while. Luckily, she didn't figure they were going anywhere for a while. "Yeah, about that…"

The story came out in a rush, and Parker paused for air only when absolutely necessary. She wasn't keen on rehashing the 'you're nuts' vibe she'd gotten so often over the last week and a half. She didn't go into any deep detail either, conveniently bypassing phrases that would only inspire awkward questions, like 'insane asylum' and 'dad had an affair' and 'mom did it'. No, she told Angie the Cliff Note's version of the tale, and it was enough to get the point across. There were no rescue crews, only two guys with a muscle car, sarcasm and some serious anger issues.

At the end of it all Angie was silent, absorbing, most likely. Then a loud smack radiated the darkness, as Angie's open palm hit the back of Parker's head with alarming accuracy. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You got arrested?" The barely restrained squeal in her tone made Parker cringe. Angie's voice always ratcheted up an octave or two when she got pissed. "And why in hell were you walking in the woods alone with that…that…thing, out there!" This time the palm missed the back of her head, skimming just over the top instead. Parker scooted away, not eager to let Angie try to fix her aim.

"I felt like goin for a jaunty little stroll, okay?" Parker fumed. "I didn't know the frickin' thing was coming after me. I figured it would stay up here, keep an eye on the prize, so to speak." She scooted away till she felt the wall at her back. The wall was almost comforting, familiar. "Must have pissed it off more than I thought when I shot it."

"You shot it?" Whoops, guess she'd forgotten to mention that part.

"Are you planning on repeating everything I say like it's a question?"

"You care on elaborating the point?"

"You know," Parker sighed, leaning her head back, "I really don't. You know, you're awfully testy for someone in need of rescuing."

"Oh yeah, stupendous job so far."

The two girls lapsed into silence, though Angie did come to sit beside Parker, resting her head on the older girl's shoulder. Parker wasn't sure how long they sat there, could have been a few minutes, or an hour, when a new noise reached her ears. She sat up a little straighter. "Angie?"

"yeah?"

"Did I just hear a goat?"

(--)

Sam yawned and shut another book of newspaper clippings. This was getting them nowhere, and he was tired, and his damned head didn't want to stop reminding him that he'd taken a thirty foot drop only two days earlier. The fact that Dean was sticking to doctor's orders, for once in his life, and waking Sam the concussion patient up every hour on the hour, left him exhausted. Truth be told, Dean didn't look much better. They were both on the ragged edge.

"Nothing," he announced dejectedly. "The Walden paper ran a story on the Quinn disappearance nearly every day for a month. You'd think in one of those articles they'd mention the woman's family ties. But they don't, ever. Any luck on your end?"

"Nope." Dean shelved the county clerk's record book he'd been looking through. "The woman with Quinn was named Susan Birchness. I mean, the newspaper articles told us that much."

Sam held up a yellowing piece of newspaper. On it, a pretty woman in her early thirties smiled at the camera, thumbs hooked beneath the straps of her pack. "Complete with grainy photo of the woman in question, yeah. Police found the picture up in Quinn's office. He took photos of all his clients. But nobody knew her. Only reason they even got a name was because she introduced herself to Quinn's guide friend Ross when they met up."

"Ross?" That nugget of information made Dean perk up.

"Yeah," Sam rifled through the papers in front of him. He'd written it down somewhere. "Uh…James Ross, another guide."

Dean's brow furrowed. "I saw a paper a couple days ago back in Deerville. James Ross went missing three days before Angie and Parker got attacked."

"So you think Ross…"

"Is now the man now conveniently possessed by our demon friend, yeah. This is crap Sam. The same demon, after the same family, and the only guy we might be able to get any answers from about our mystery woman is suddenly possessed? But according to all the information we've got the chic wasn't from Walden, or anywhere nearby. And I can't find anyone in county records that might have been related to her either."

"So then how'd she hook up with Parker's dad?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Papers don't mention the affair right?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope, they just say she was an out of town client of Quinn's. Search parties looked everywhere and never found them. They weren't even declared dead until a couple of years ago, till then they were just missing."

"Perfect."

"So what now?"

Dean paced. "This is a dead end. But if we don't do something soon Parker and Angie are good as dead."

"You want to go back up there." It wasn't a question.

"See any other option Sammy? We go, wait till it leaves and head in. We salt the cave entrance and take our chances there's no other way in. Then we find the girls and make a run for it, packin as much heat as we can. We might not be able to kill the son of a bitch, but it sure as hell slowed down a bit when Parker shot it."

"Pretty sketchy plan Dean."

"Well there's always Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

Dean gave a small, tight lipped grin. "We wing it." He headed for the stairs out of the County Clerk's basement.

Sam rose from his seat. "Wing it," he repeated, "and here I thought Plan B might be dumb."

"Criticize when you come up with your own damn plan. Come on."

(--)

The bell above the door of the Outdoor Outfitter's shop jangled when the brothers entered. Neither Sam nor Dean had been terribly keen on getting lost in the Deep, so they were hitting up Celeste for more supplies, a couple of cans of the glowing, biodegradable spray paint Parker had, another flashlight or two and a map of the caves if she had it. Unfortunately, the ageing shop keep wasn't in sight.

"Celeste?" Sam called, craning his neck to see over the display stands. No answer.

Dean slipped behind the counter, headed for the cracked door leading to a back room and a door that marked Celeste's tiny office. Dean rapped his knuckles against the doorframe as he pushed the door open. "Celeste? You in here?" The room was empty.

Dean's curiosity got the better of his manners. He edged his way into the room. A sagging oak desk sat in the center of the room, papers scattered across the top of its surface. A battered desktop computer took up residence in the right hand corner of the desk, and bright, neon colored sticky notes rimmed the monitor. A large topographical map of the area covered one wall. Framed pictures, both old and new were hung carefully around the rest of the office.

Dean walked around the desk to peruse the photos. A fine layer of dust covered them, but beneath the grime he could see Celeste, a much younger Celeste, smiling back at the camera, usually with another smiling figure at her side.

"Dean," Sam's voice resonated seriousness. "What are you doing? Get out of her office."

"Fine," he grumbled, and turned to leave. As he did, another photo caught his eye. This one had not been hung, but sat in a special place on a bookcase in the far corner of the room. He went toward it instead, hearing Sam grumbling at his back and following him inside. Dean used his thumb to wipe away the dust. "hey Sam, come look at this." It was a picture of Celeste, just like the others, but that wasn't what interested him. What interested Dean was the pretty woman in her mid thirties that stood beside her, Susan Birchness.

"Put that down, and turn around, nice and slow." The command was followed by the all too familiar sound of a shotgun being cocked.

Sam and Dean raised their hands and said together, "Shit."

(--)

Chapter 9

Okay, sorry this took me a while to get out, but I hope you enjoyed. As always, please review. And for any interested, Akvan is an actual demon from Iranian mytholgy. This story more or less follows what I could find about him, with a few minor changes here and there.