AN: A second chapter tonight (remember that whole cluster bomb thing? Yeah, sorry.). It's mostly because I had one mammoth chapter and decided to choppy choppy. LMK what you think, pretty please with strawberries on top? Unless you hate it – then sit on your hands. (j/k – tell me whatever you want!)
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11:51 pm
Waiting was not Dean's favorite thing. In fact, it was one of his least favorite things, right up there with lending out his car. Waiting while not knowing if Sam was in danger or not and not even being able to get to him? A thousand times worse.
He'd circled the house twice more, looking for clues or a weak spot, quickly inspected the yard, and gotten another load of anything they might, possibly need from the Impala, up to and including the first aid kit (which they would not need). He hadn't found much of interest, except a large garden, which was as dead as the rest of the vegetation this time of year. Then he'd remembered Sam's interest in the window frame and had taken a closer look at the designs carved into outside of the door and window frames.
It turns out they weren't decorations at all, or that isn't all they were. Dean recognized some of the symbols as warding. Others he recognized but couldn't identify. All appeared arcane. And every last one had a slash through it. The entire door was covered with the same, as was the railing, the porch pillars, and even the steps.
Burned pentagram. Ruined warding. Invisible house visible again. People disappearing. Supernatural lockdown – Sammy in, Dean out. What did it all add up to? Dean sure as hell didn't know, but he was still thinking witch. What did witches want? Sure, most they came up against pursued power in all forms, but they also wanted what everyone else wanted: money, security, the necessities of life, maybe companionship.
The sheer volume of protective symbols hinted at fear, and their destruction indicated that something had gotten through. Was the lockdown a protective spell? Maybe locking the barn door after the horses got out, though. Dean's head hurt and he really needed to see his stupid little brother. Then Sam could figure out what they were dealing with and Dean could figure out what was bugging him about Sam.
It was growing chilly, and Dean patted his pockets to check if he had his gloves. Instead, he found his phone back and remembered what he'd considered earlier. He skipped right past Dad's number and chose a different name. "Pastor Jim?" he asked when the other man answered almost immediately.
"Dean? Is everything okay?" The older man's voice was faint like the connection was bad.
"Um, yeah, do you have that rite for breaking a supernatural lockdown?"
"I can simply tell you how to do it, Dean. But someone has to be on each side to complete the ritual."
"I know, Jim. Whatcha got?"
There was a pause, and Dean could make out other voices in the background. "Do you and Sam need help, Dean? I'm on a hunt outside of Salem, but I could head your way immediately. Where are you?"
"Salem, Massachusetts?" It might be anathema to ask for help, but the thought of having backup was incredibly reassuring.
"Oregon." The response made Dean's heart fall again.
"We're across the country. But we're fine. So what's that ritual?"
The rite was simple, and Dean quickly scribbled the details and information on his paper for Sam. They each had to use a finger to draw the Hebrew letter youd (the first letter of the name of God) above the same door, first in holy water, then in their own blood. Then they just needed to say a word which sounded like gofe. PJ assured Dean that it would break most lockdowns, but warned that the stronger the entity that put the spell or enchantment in place, the stronger the reaction would be.
Dean got out the holy water and his pocket knife, practiced the word he had to say, and even double checked his spelling on the note for Sam. Then, on impulse, he pulled his phone back out. There was one person he wanted to call even more than Jim. It rang four times and he wondered if the man would even answer, then a gruff voice came on the line.
"Dean? How you doin', boy?"
Dean found himself smiling. "Good, Bobby. You?"
"Just ganked me a pissy poltergeist outside 'a Toledo. What's up?"
"Figuring out disappearances in Hampton, Virginia. But Sammy got himself stuck inside the house where people are disappearing. He's fine, and when he gets his ass back to the window where I can see him, we've got a spell thing to break the lockdown and get him out of there." Dean paused. Why had he called? Bobby would ask him in a minute.
"You get that kid outta there," encouraged Bobby. "You know he's a trouble magnet." Dean couldn't help but laugh. "If you're callin' about your Daddy I ain't heard from him, but if I do I'll let you know after I kick his ass."
Dean chuckled again, immensely glad he'd made the call. "Thank, Bobby."
"Listen, it's great to hear that you 'n' Sam are hunting together again. When you get him out, tell that boy to call me. I want to tell him how sorry I am about his girl."
"I will Bobby," Dean promised. "I have – hey, I see him coming back. We'll call you when we've got this all figured out." Bobby said his goodbyes and Dean snapped his phone shut. His annoyance for the stunt Sam had pulled surged right back to the fore at the sight of the kid strolling up. Gonna kick his ass, Dean thought darkly.
He slapped the paper to the window without preamble and shined his light in Sam's face out of sheer pique as his brother leaned his forehead against the top of the window and started to read Dean's note. Dean froze, staring in disbelief at the face on the other side of the glass. What. The. Hell?
