10.
Trigger Warning: panic attack, anxiety
River lay on the lumpy motel bed, channel surfing and trying to not let the anxiety that had settled in her chest since her decision to notify Castiel of the seal in Saginaw invade the rest of her body. She was slowly losing the battle with her emotions and racing mind, her fingers twitched subconsciously as did her feet and she could hear the blood beginning to pound in her ears. A full blown panic attack was rearing it's ugly head and she concentrated on her breathing, slow purposefully breaths trying to ignore the tingling sensations around her mouth and fingers. The burden of hiding Gabriel's existence, trying to create a stable facade for Dean and the growing worry about Sam was wearing thin her already tenuous grip on her mental health .
Just as she felt her heart rate beginning to slow and the feeling was returning to her tingling fingers she heard the grumbling roar of Dean's pride and joy. "Fuck, keep your shit together. Dean went to hell remember," she angrily muttered to herself. She wiped her sweaty palms on her leggings and opened the door before Dean could knock. "Hey, sexy," she'd never get tired of those candy apple green eyes staring back at her. "Hey, Sammy." Sam stood behind his brother and smiled, his hazel eyes quickly darting away. "Here's your room key." She tossed the key to Sam and turned her attention back to Dean, "Fuck, I missed you." She wrapped her hands in Deans jacket and gently tugged him inside her room, he kicked the door shut while simultaneously pulling his jacket off. River grabbed at his shirts while attacking his full lips with her own. They broke apart only long enough to pull each others shirts off. "Shit, Dean, what happened?" she ran her fingers lightly over the purple marks on his neck. He pulled her fingers away and brought them to his lips.
"You should see the other guy…well whats left of him," he said smirking.
Sam entered his tacky, lime green motel room; he noticed a full bottle of Hunter's Helper aka Whiskey on the table and brand new sound canceling headphones. He heard River's laugh from the next room and quickly understood the headphones. "God damn it, Dean," he muttered angrily twisting the bottle of whiskey open. A heavy thump echoed against the wall followed by a moan and more thumping. Sam walked back to the table and put on his new headphones.
"Mmmm, pancakes," River murmured happily as the plate of banana pancakes was set in front of her. The trio had left the crappy motel and headed to a local diner for breakfast. Sam had his laptop open and was skimming through interesting news stories while Dean and River tried each other's breakfast.
"No, I don't want any fucking bacon, Winchester." River disgustedly pushed the piece of fired meat out of her face, "Pigs are beautiful, socially intelligent animals. You could learn a thing or two from them."
Dean snorted, "But they taste so damn good."
"So, I think I got a case," Sam finally said. "Guy eating Halloween candy and swallows razor blades, rips his insides to ribbons and bleeds out on his kitchen floor."
"Hmm, sounds gross. Let's check it out," River said as she finished her third cup of coffee, "Lemme pee and we can get the hell out of here." She kissed Dean on the cheek and slid out of the booth heading towards the restroom sign at the back of the restaurant. The waitress came to their booth a moment later and dropped the check off, giving Dean an appreciative smile and earning one in return.
Sam glanced over his laptop at his brother, "Really, dude?" He stood up from the table and grabbed his laptop and met River at the door. Dean shrugged his shoulders and threw a couple bills on the table to cover their tab. The trio of hunters drove through the night and half the next day and arrived in Colorado the day before Halloween.
"So, how many razor blades did they find?" River stood in the kitchen flanked by Sam, interviewing the dead mans wife while Dean checked for clues.
The woman wiped her eyes, "He swallowed three and one…one was stuck in his throat." She took a deep breath and glanced at the laughing baby in the playpen. "How does something like that even happen? I mean I've heard the urban legends but…" She glanced at Dean as he kneeled in front of the stove. "The candy was never in the stove."
"We just have to be thorough, Mrs. Wallace," Sam said gently, we're just checking all leads." River smiled at her and glanced behind her, watching as Dean stood up and flashed the hex bag he found shoved behind the fridge.
"Is there anyone that you can think of that would want to harm your husband?" River asked, "Any one with a grudge, maybe?"
"What?" Mrs. Wallace asked stunned, "I don't-"
"Neighbors," Sam said, "A woman perhaps?"
"What? Like an affair? Are you…what are you saying?" she shouted angrily.
"M'am, relax. My partner didn't mean anything," River said stepping in front of Sam and ushering the woman towards her table. "We just need to be sure."
"No, don't you think if someone wanted to kill my husband they would find a better way then razor blades in candy that my husband might eat?"
"Ok, ok. Thank you for patience with our questions. If you think of anything," River glanced at Dean who pulled out a business card, "Call us please. Anytime day or night." The hunters left the house and headed for their motel.
River sat on the floor in their room, dissecting the hex bag while Sam investigated the possible meanings behind the contents. "What the hell is this?" River held up some dried herb.
Dean came back from his food run, shoving candy in his face and murmuring happily. "How much candy have you had, Dean?" River asked as he sat on the couch next to his brother.
"Shut up, it's Halloween," he said shoving another piece of candy in his mouth.
"Every day is Halloween for us, Dean," Sam said.
"Find anything interesting?" Dean asked.
"Well, definitely a hex bag," River said, snagging a piece of chocolate from Dean's hand, "And this coin is Celtic," she picked up a tarnished coin from the bag and handed it to Dean, " it's legit, not a knockoff and at least, what do you think, Sam, 600 years old?"
Sam nodded and picked up the green herb that River had shown him, "And this is Goldthread. It's been extinct for at least 200 hundred years."
Dean raised his eyebrows, "And this?" He picked up a blackened stub of something.
"That's a metacarpal bone of an infant," River told him, Dean dropped the bone disgustedly and wiped his fingers on Sam's jeans.
"Thanks dude, Relax its at least a hundred years old."
"Witches, skeevy nasty…" Dean muttered.
"Yeah, well it takes real power to make a hex bag like this. More mojo than I've seen in a while," River sighed, "You find anything on Wallace?"
"Nope, guy was vanilla. Married to his high school sweetheart, happy life, happy marriage. Never even had a parking ticket. Can't find a damn reason someone would want him dead."
Across town a group of bored High schoolers were attempting to throw a Halloween party. The music sucked and so did everyone's costumes, the usual grouping of slutty versions of fairy tale characters and guys wearing "This is my costume" t-shirts. People were filtering in and out, mostly out once they realized they couldn't break into the triple locked alcohol cabinet.
"Come one, Becka, lets bounce and go TP someones house," a young woman dressed as a slutty nurse told her friend, Becka, a slutty Dorothy of Oz.
"Not yet, Jenny. We haven't even played any games," Becka told her. A small group of people were gathered around a large bucket and bobbing for apples. The girls waited in line to play the childish game, laughing as people splashed their faces in the water and yelled triumphantly when they were able to gather an apple with nothing but their teeth.
"Your turn Jenny!" Becka yelled happily, taking a bite out of her apple.
Jenny gingerly got on her knees in front of the giant tub and glared at her friend, "My mascara better not get ruined with this dumb game." She leaned forward and tried to catch an apple with her teeth, each time she got close the apples would float away. She got more and more annoyed about to give up when she felt something pushing at her head, shoving her face down into the water. She tried screaming but got a mouthful of water, the water began to bubble and boil causing her to flail her legs. Her arms were trapped by the same invisible force and she couldn't pull herself free of the scalding water. Becka and the others finally caught on to her struggles and tried to free her from the boiling tub.
"Emergency personnel, please report to 475 Wicker street, we have reports of a possible scalding injury at a Halloween party…" the police scanner open on Sam's laptop squawked. The three hunters sat at the table enjoying their take out dinner, they stopped and listened to the report again before deciding this was a possible lead. Sam and Dean changed into their suits to check out the scene while River stayed behind to check Witch lore.
They arrived at the home to find ambulances and police cars parked haphazardly alone the street and yard. Becka was giving a report to a uniformed officer. Sam walked around the basement where the party had been held, checking under couch cushions and furniture while Dean interviewed the witnesses. The young woman, Becka, had never heard of Mr. Luke Wallace, the man that ate razorblades and Sam found a hex bag tucked into the cushions of the couch. "Shit," he muttered standing up and showing it to Dean.
"I don't get it, I can't find anything on these vics that would lead to bitchcraft grudges," Dean muttered from behind his laptop screen, Sam glanced up from his own screen "Ditto."
River sat on the bed reading an old book and sat forward, "Maybe it's not about grudges."
"Wow, how insightful. Take you all night to come up with that?" Dean said sarcastically turning back to his computer.
River stopped and glanced between him and Sam, "Umm, ok. I mean I think it's a spell. Listen this book says something about three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the last day of the final harvest."
"When's the last day of the final harvest?" Sam asked.
"Well, according to the Celtic calendar it's October 31st," River set the book in front of the brothers so they could read the passage.
"Halloween. Great, so what's the blood sacrifices for?" Dean asked his tone softer.
River shrugged her shoulders, "From what I can tell, the witch is summoning a demon. Samhain."
Sam nodded and let out a long breath, Dean glanced at him quizzically. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Dean, Samhain is the origin of Halloween. The ancient Celts believed October 31st was the one night a year the veil between the living and the dead was the thinnest."
River smiled at him, "They believed the spirits could cross over to our side, led by Samhain. Thats why they wore masks and strange costumes, they hoped to confuse the evil spirits, tricking them into thinking they were one of them. Left sweets at the doorstep to appease him. He was exorcised centuries ago."
"So he took a trip downstairs and now some witch wants to bring him topside?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, this is heavy duty black magic. Due to the lunar calendar or some shit, this spell can only be worked every 600 years."
"Which would be? Tomorrow I'm guessing." Sam said.
"Bingo," River said leaning back in her chair.
"Whats the big deal with this guy? A lot of death and destruction for one demon." Dean said flipping though the pages of the book.
"He likes company, once he's raised according to lore he can do some raising of his own," River pointed to a picture on one of the pages, "Dark, evil, bad stuff. He won't stop once he gets his party started."
"Every evil thing we've ever seen in one place, following this douche around likes he's the ice cream man," Sam muttered.
"It's gonna be a slaughterhouse," Dean said, closing the book. River ran her hands through her hair and the three hunters sat quietly at the table, digesting the possibilities of the coming day.
Dean left early the next morning to stakeout the razorblades house, while River went across town to the victim of the hexed apple game. "You find anything?" Sam checked in with Dean, who sat in the front of the Chevy gorging on candy.
"Nope big pile of nothing. How about River?"
"Nothing, we need to find something soon. We're running out of time," Sam said.
Dean nodded, half listening to his brother talk, "Son of a bitch." He muttered after a moment, he watched a young blonde woman, Becka, the same girl from the Halloween party bounce up the steps to the Wallaces home. He watched as she knocked on the door and was greeted warmly by Mrs. Wallace and the baby boy she held on her hip. Dean muttered again and spun the car away from the home, he sped across town to pick up River from her stakeout and they returned to the motel.
"She told you she'd never heard of Luke Wallace right?" River asked as she and Dean returned to their motel room, finding Sam spread out across his bed, nose deep in a book on witchcraft.
"Yup," Dean answered.
"I don't get it. A blonde cheerleader's kind of a weird disguise for a 600 year old witch, don't you think?" Sam asked.
Dean sat on his bed, "Nah, think about it. If you were some 600 year old hag and you could pick any meat suit to come back in wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader?" Dean smirked to himself, "Some young, tight, blonde…I would." River looked at him, eyebrows raised and mouthed "What the fuck?" Dean shook himself, "I mean you know…if I were a witch."
Sam looked between the two and stuttered, "Becka's not so squeaky clean. I did some digging, she got suspended from school after a violent altercation with a teacher."
"Let's go talk to the teacher then," River said frostily, grabbing her Fed costume from the back of the couch and slamming the bathroom door shut. The teacher, Mr. Harding, taught art; his classroom adorned with paper-mache masks and large kilns. Dean glanced around the brightly colored blobs before being drawn to a mask that appeared to be screaming, it's features distorted, red and black splotches mimicking blood and bruises. He felt cold sweat breakout on his neck and could hear echoing screams in his head. "Bring back memories?" River asked coming to stand behind him.
"What the hells that supposed to mean?" Dean spun towards her.
She took a step away from him, "The shitty, teenage angst in art form. What do think I mean? What's up with you?"
Dean shook his head and watched as a student readied their clay monstrosities for the kiln, "Nothin'."
"Agents, I heard you were looking for me?" a middle aged man entered the classroom a moment later, balancing a cardboard box and a stack of papers in his arms.
"Mr. Harding? Yes, " Sam stepped forward and grabbed the box before it toppled to the floor.
"Please, Don, even my students don't call me Mr. Harding." he shook hands with the three hunters. Don looked every bit like he wanted to be the cool laid back teacher, long hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, untucked dress shirt and jeans, and beaded bracelets adorning both wrists.
"Yeah, ok Don. I'm Agent Armstrong, these are Agents Geddy and Lee. We want to talk to about your student Becka Davis," River said as the three flashed their badges at the teacher.
"Cool man, I dig it. Yeah,Becka's a good kid. Lots of talent but she just…just exploded. If Principal James hadn't walked in; she was gonna claw my eyes out," Don said. sitting on his desk.
"What happened exactly?" Dean asked.
"I just wanted to rap with her about her work, it was like…getting real dark and disturbing, you know?"
River poked her thumb behind her and pointed at the same mask that had drawn Dean's attention, "More disturbing than that? Because that shit looks like it's straight out of Hellraiser, nightmare material, Don. Or the kid with the five foot clay bong?"
Don laughed, "Yeah…she had a notebook. Every page filled with all these freaky symbols and drawings of I don't know, death and blood."
Sam pulled out a bag from his pocket and held it up for Don to inspect, "Any of the symbols look like this?"
"Oh yeah, that totally could've been one of them."
"Do you know where Becka is now?" Dean asked.
"Probably at her apartment?" Don answered.
"Her apartment?" River asked.
Don nodded, "Yeah, she's an emancipated teen. Got here about a year ago, all alone. God knows what her parents were like…" The hunters thanked Don for his time and left the school.
"I'll check the apartment, you check her friends. And Dean," River said, climbing out of the car, "Emancipated still equals jail bait." Sam cracked with laughter as Dean pulled the Impala away from the curb with a huff. None of the hunters had any luck tracking down Becka and returned to their motel in the late afternoon. A chubby little boy in an astronaut costume blocked them from getting up the stairs to their motel room.
"Trick or treat, " the kid said.
River and Dean exchanged a look, "This is a motel, kid." Dean said trying to step around the kid.
"Yeah, so? I want candy," he demanded.
River leaned down to look through his helmet, "And I want a smaller waist and bigger tits. Can't always get what you want kid, get the fuck out of the way." The boys eyes widened and he shuffled sideways, allowing the hunters to pass.
"You've probably scarred that kid for life," Sam said over his shoulder as he unlocked their motel room. River shrugged her shoulders indifferently. Sam entered the dark room first and immediately went for his gun, "Who are you!" he demanded. A trench coated figure turned around and a tall African American man stood near the window. Dean and River barged into he room, guns also raised.
"Sam, no," River told him, "He's Castiel, the angel."
Dean nodded his head towards the stranger and said quietly, "Don't know him."
Sam smiled nervously tucking his gun back into his waistband and smoothed his hair. "Cas-Castiel, this is an honor," he stuttered, "Wow, I've heard so much about you. Oh my god this is amazing…" He held his hand out nervously towards the angel. River raised her eyebrows and pulled her mouth into a thin line, glancing at the man still staring out the window. She could see the faint outline of massive mahogany wings tucked closely to the mans body.
Castiel smiled bemusedly at the young man, "And I've heard about you." He grasped Sam's hand and shook it awkwardly, "Sam Winchester the boy with the demon blood. Glad to hear you've ceased you're extracurricular activities." Sam gave a tremulous smile and glanced at his brother.
"Lets keep it that way," the man facing away from them finally spoke in a deep baritone.
"Yeah, alright chuckles," Dean muttered, "Who's your friend?"
Castiel turned towards Dean, "The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?"
"Why?" Dean asked cautiously.
"Have you located the witch?" Castiel asked him.
"We know who it is," River said standing beside Dean and Sam.
Castiel turned away from the hunters and walked towards the bed, "Well, apparently they know who you are too." He picked up a small bag and held it for them to see, "This was in the wall of your room. If we hadn't found it you would all be dead. Do you know where the witch is?" The three hunters glanced at each other, River chewed her bottom lip nervously.
"No, not exactly," Dean answered.
"Well thats unfortunate," Castiel said quietly.
"What the hells that supposed to mean?" River asked.
The trenchcoated angel turned towards her, "The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals." River shook her head and ran her fingers tiredly along the side of her face.
"So this is about your buddy, Lucifer," Dean quipped back.
"Lucifer is no friend of ours," the other angel replied still not looking at the hunters.
"Ok, Castiel, then can you do us a favor and locate the witch for us?" River asked, "You kind of owe me one for the seal in Saginaw, right?" Dean and Sam turned to look at her.
"Thank you for assisting us in locating and protecting that seal," Castiel said, "But we are not omnipresent, this witch is very powerful. She's cloaked herself against even our methods."
"We know who the witch is, if we work together …" Sam asked.
The man turned to face them suddenly, voice raised. "Enough of this." River watched as his wings twitched and flexed, annoyed at their banter.
"Who the hell are you? And why should we care?" Dean yelled back.
Castiel glanced between the angel and the hunter, "This is Uriel. He's what you could call a specialist."
"A specialist in what, exactly?" River asked.
"You three should leave, immediately. We are going to destroy the city," Castiel told them, eyes darting down.
"What? No. Like the fucking museum? 32 people died there!" River yelled, "There's over a thousand people in this town."
"It's regrettable, but the seals must be saved at all costs," Castiel said gently, "Too many seals have fallen already. We must hold the line. If Lucifer rises, hell rises with him."
"So you assholes have screwed the pooch on a couple of seals and now this whole town has to suffer for it?" Dean yelled again.
"We are waisting time with these mud monkeys, " Uriel spat.
"What the hell did you call us?" River asked.
Uriel sneered at her, "How dare you speak to me in that tone. I know who you are, River McGregor; Dean Winchesters whore, mother to his dead, bastard sons; consort to a traitor."
River blinked several times in shock, "The only person I consort with is Dean. What the hell did I ever do to you?"
"What did you do? You were supposed to die and yet here are. Did Castiel explain to you why you could see our wings when others can't?"
River shifted uneasily, "Didn't ask, don't care."
"It happens sometimes, when a human comes in contact with an angel's grace, " Uriel took a step towards her, she stood taller and stared into his dark brown eyes, "Who saved you?"
"I don't remember anything," she answered evenly.
"You're lying and I can find the truth. It's another one of my specialties," he stepped closer, leaving less than a foot between himself and the woman.
"I am not bound to please thee with my answer," River said quietly. Uriel cocked his head, confused at her strange choice of words.
He glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, "What is this cow saying?"
Castiel gave a small smile, "I believe it's Shakespeare, a very famous Human author and playwright. I once watched a production of Hamlet at the Globe theater…"
Dean and Sam stood quietly watching the exchange between the angels and the red headed hunter. River smiled again, "I can translate it Uriel if you like," the specialist turned his attention back to her. She opened her mouth to speak but the words that came out were not English. To Sam and Dean they sounded like they had far too many vowels and x's, but whatever she said the angels recognized. With a great flap of his invisible wings Uriel sent the Winchesters sprawling to the floor, River felt ice cold fingers slip around her throat as she was raised several feet off the floor. Anger seethed through out Uriel, his eyes glowing faintly. River struggled and kicked at the invisible vice around her throat, she heard a strange popping noise in her ears as the angel used his grace to slowly crush her windpipe.
"You insolent mud monkey. We have no use for you," he growled at her. Her eyes watered, she scratched weakly at her own throat, drawing dark red lines with her fingernails against her skin. Dean and Sam scrambled unsteadily to their feet and watched as the angel choked the life out of her.
Castiel put a calm hand on Uriel's shoulder, "Brother, this is unnecessary." Uriel dropped the woman in a heap on the floor, where she continued to struggle to pull air into her swollen airway.
"Listen to me, Just listen!" Dean yelled at the angels, "We aren't leaving this town. We will find the witch, we will stop the summoning. If you're gonna smite this town then your gonna have to kill me too and since you went to all that trouble dragging my ass outta hell I think someone in upper management might want me to stay upright."
"You will leave, or I will drag you out myself," Uriel told him in a dangerously low tone.
"Nope, you're gonna have to kill me and that would leave you right back where you started," Dean said, "Now help her!" He pointed to River where she still sat huddled over, drawing in high pitched breaths. Uriel sneered and disappeared.
Castiel glanced down at the woman and back to Dean, "I suggest you move quickly. Find the witch, end her and protect the seal." He leaned down and touched two fingers to River's forehead, her windpipe was healed and she took an even breath. The angel held out his hand and she grasped it and he pulled her to her feet effortlessly. "Your Enochian was nearly perfect. Tell me where you learned our language."
River glanced at Dean and back to the angel, "Rosetta stone. I can also order a beer and ask where the nearest toilet is."
"I was present when the Rosetta stone was made, there is no Enochian translation on the tablet," he said seriously.
"No, Cas, it's a computer program…never mind," she said.
"I'm sorry, can one of you explain to me what the fuck that was?" Dean said impatiently.
"Well, I can't give an exact translation but River encouraged Uriel to have…sexual relations with himself," Castiel said, a small blush rising in his cheeks.
"River, you told an Angel to go fuck himself?" Dean asked.
River shrugged, "Maybe…he was being a dick." Her phone buzzed in her pocket, "Hey Macarena!" played loudly. She declined the call, sent a quick text and stared at Dean, "We have a witch to find, hot stuff."