A/N: Okay, so here is the next chapter of Prisoner of War. The next chapter after this should be pretty action packed, and I will try to get it up tomorrow, if not, then Wednesday. I would have liked to get a longer chapter up today, but I am spreading my time out as best I can, as I have several projects with updates due.
Thank you to all my reviewers, the support you guys have shown this project, and me and my family while my Mom is in the hospital just blows me away, and I want you all to know I am really grateful. I have some readers and reviewers who are amazingly faithful to this story, and please don't ever think that I take you for granted. This story is fun to write, but also hard, as I am trying to balances some severe changes to the characters while keeping it believable, so please don't hesitate to give me feed back. Questions, comments, thoughts are always welcome. If you haven't got a personal thank you to a review lately, I apologize, normally I try to do better, but between the multiple open projects, the busy back to school season for my son (third grade, guys, he is so big now) and of course, my mom having a heart attack and open heart surgery, I've been missing a lot. Once things are less crazy, I promise my manners will improve, but in the meantime, hit me up if you have any questions, because I give questions priority, as I never want confusion to stop someone from enjoying my story.
As Always,
EverReader
Prisoner of War- Chapter Twenty Four
"Dark Blessings"
Dean climbed into the Impala, slamming his door shut as Sam did the same.
"Well, that is officially the grossest thing I have seen this week." Dean said, making a disgusted face as he thought about what they had witnessed back in the orchard.
Sam had been staring off into the misty trees. "Well, I'm pretty sure we know what happens now. That scarecrow isn't just a scarecrow, it's some kind of avatar."
Dean raised his brows, and Sam continued. "The deity animates it, and uses it to...collect the tithes, I guess. The skin on it's arm obviously came from Jesse, you could still see the tattoo."
Dean shuddered. "God, I hate when Hollywood gets some creepy detail right. So, you think that's the God's avatar all the time?"
Sam looked over at him. "All the time?" He asked.
Dean thought for a moment, running his memory over any other cases he'd participated on with John or Bobby that had involved pagan deities. "Usually objects housing ghosts or deities have a bit more mojo than what I felt coming off that thing. I might not be working the ghost whisperer angle the way you have been lately, but when we took out that possessed sword a few years back, just being near the thing had the hairs on my arms standing up. You just can't pack that much power into an object without it causing a reaction. I suppose the trees in the orchard could be siphoning it off, but still. That scarecrow, creepy ass fugly that it was, felt...empty."
Sam nodded thoughtfully in agreement. "Your right. It seemed pretty inanimate. Maybe the deity if already hibernating?" He offered.
Dean shook his head. "Bobby was certain the sacrifices were always killed around the full moon, and that's tonight. They might have their victims lined up, but nothing on that thing looked...fresh."
Sam made a face at Dean's choice of words.. "Try the radio, see if there's any interference."
Dean started the car and flipped on the radio. The morning announcer came on, rattling off the time and temperature along with the forecast for the rest of the day. Once or twice, the sound did warble, but nothing like they would have expected seeing as they were pretty sure it was a deity of sorts.
Deities packed a lot of mojo, especially ones that were still having sacrifices made to them. Forgotten or abandoned deities could slowly start to lose their mojo, but the yearly killings argued against that in this case.
Dean said "Harvest Gods, they're cyclic, right? Wheel of the year, and all that jazz. Sleep in the winter, wake up in the spring. Eat people on the autumn."
Sam shook his head at Dean's simplification, then took a moment to think about Dean's words. Sam knew the truth about Dean, that for all his bluff and bluster about being a soldier, Dean's handle on supernatural lore was impressive. Sam had been eight before he'd known about the monsters, Dean had been four when he'd started learning at John's knee.
Sam looked over at his brother. "You think it's something living, that's why the interference isn't so bad?"
Dean looked over. "Living avatars dispel the energy better, and make it harder to track the remainder, it's more difficult to get a read on them. So..." Dean's eyes flickered over Sam to the window behind his brother, at the crimson apples shining in the morning light.
"One of the trees..." Sam said, excitement tinging his voice.
Dean glanced over at him, memory flashing over him off all the times Sam had practically begged to be let off a case. When had Sam suddenly become so interested in hunting? He'd never even complained about missing school.
"Most of the Harvest Gods around here came from Europe. A tree or seed would have allowed that transition, back then, it would have been by ship." Sam offered finally and Dean nodded.
"That fit's Merit's time line." He agreed.
"An orchard grown from seeds from a tree housing a harvest God would certainly have a longer growing season." Sam added, looking over at the trees also.
"Well, then. Let's go check out Merit. No real way of knowing if they've already picked out this year's sacrifice. If they grabbed people yesterday or the day before, they could have them locked up somewhere." Dean said, checking the road before pulling the Impala back out onto the road, heading towards town.
The brothers were quiet on the ride, both locked in their own thoughts. The town limit sign came into view.
Merit, Pop. 238
The town itself was as small as they had expected, with two main streets intersecting to create a 'downtown' and a handful of residential streets branching off. The houses were all quaint and neatly kept, white picket fences painted, hedges trimmed, laundry already drying on the lines. Traffic was practically none existent, and Dean thought about how unlucky those couples must have been to have stopped through at just the right (or wrong, as it might be) time to be chosen as the sacrifices.
A combo gas station/garage was situated immediately beside a small diner, and the sign over the pumps reading 'Scotties' apparently covered both businesses.
"Up for lunch?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother.
Sam looked slightly green at the thought. "I wouldn't get any pie, if I were you."
"Oh man, why did you have to go and ruin it." Dean muttered as they pulled up to the pumps.
A pretty blonde girl, maybe Sam's age or so came out, and Dean looked at her speculatively for a moment before glancing over at his brother. Maybe it was time he started trying to help Sam reconnect with other people a little more.
He tossed his wallet to Sam.
"Sammy, pay the pretty girl when she's done, will ya?" He said, as Sam caught his wallet reflexively.
"I'm gonna go in and grab a table, check out the local color." Dean added as he let himself out. "Fill her up, okay?"
"O..K." Sam said slowly, brows creased in confusion, but obediently getting out to greet the blonde girl.
Forcing down his smile, Dean shoved his hands in his denim jacket.
Sam was still using his leather one, Dean had managed to get the blood off one day while Sam was at school. Sam could have worn a hoodie, but Dean actually liked the way it fit on Sam, the jacket that had been John's and then Dean's. Eventually, Sam's shoulders would fill out the rest of the way, and Dean would most likely get it back, as it would no longer fit, but in the meantime, it offered better protection than a sweatshirt would.
Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural
Sam smiled a little awkwardly at the blonde girl, feeling a little stupid that she was pumping the gas for him, wishing for once that he still had his sling on so he would at least have a good reason to let her.
She just smiled at him like she did it all the time though, and maybe she did, so who was Sam to stand in the way of feminism.
"Passing through?" She asked conversationally, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one ear.
"Uh, sorta." Sam said, pulling the picture of Jesse and Tessa out of his pocket.
"This is my cousin, Jesse. He and his girlfriend Tessa, passed through her about a year ago, and shortly after, they disappeared. This is the last stop we know they made. My brother and I decided it was time to step up the search, see if anyone remembered anything." He passed the photo over to her, and she squinted at it closely for a moment, before shaking her head. "Maybe...but, you know, this is the kind of town that everyone just passes through."
Sam studied her eyes, but could see no indication that she was lying. "Okay, well, thanks for looking. So, this the only gas station?"
She smiled brightly. "Yeah, Merit's pretty small. This is the only service station, and the only restaurant. My Uncle Harley and Aunt June run the restaurant, and Uncle Harley's best friend Scott runs the garage."
Sam smiled back at her. "What about your parents, what do they do in a town this size?"
She shook her head. "They passed away when I was a kid. Car accident. Uncle Harley and Aunt June took me in."
"So, not a Merit native then?" Sam said, fishing curiously, wondering if she had any idea of what kind of town she actually lived in.
"No, I wasn't born here. Didn't even visit until my parents died. My Mom hated the place, said it wasn't right." Emily (her name tag read Emily, anyway) offered.
"Not right?" Sam asked, interest piqued. Had Emily's mother moved away because she found out about the sacrifices? Or, even worse, had her parents been the sacrifice one year and she not realize it? A town this size, the townspeople couldn't count on always having a convenient pair of visitors of the right kind at the right time. A disapproving town native, and a non-native husband might have made an appealing option if the town were hard up.
She shrugged. "I guess she meant that it was too small, and almost everyone's related one way or another. This way of life isn't made for everyone."
Sam passed her the twenty. "What about you? Too small for your tastes?"
She shook her head, smiling again as she wrapped her sweater a little tighter around her. "No. I love it. I bus over to the next town for school half days, and all my class mates talk about how their parents are losing their jobs, the recession, crops failing. Merit never seems to have that kind of problem, everyone's kind to one another, the bad things just don't seem to happen here."
"Like...the town's blessed or something, huh?" Sam said speculatively.
She nodded. "Yeah, exactly like that."
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Dean let himself into the small cafe, immediately feeling ill at ease as three pairs of eyes locked on him.
An older man and woman were fluttering around a young couple seated at one of the tables. The young couple continued eating, paying no mind to Dean, but the older man and woman, along with another, sour looking man in blue coveralls, were practically glaring at Dean.
Ignoring their pointed looks, he sat himself down at the table next to the young couple, smiling winningly at the older woman.
"Uh...June." He said, reading her name off her name tag, "Can I get a couple of menus for myself and my brother? He's getting the car gassed up, but we hit the road early, and we're starving."
"Sure." The woman said shortly, dropping two menus unceremoniously on the table in front of Dean. Dean's brows raised in acknowledgment of her poor manners, but he held his tongue. Her attitude only reinforced his conviction that the young couple at the next table were Merit's next victims. The bell over the door chimed as Sam came in, seating himself calmly beside Dean.
Dean smiled cheekily, waggling his eyebrows at Sam with a meaningful look outside to where Emily had stopped to chat with an older woman out walking.
Sam shook his head exasperated, smiling politely up at June when she brought their glasses of water.
Dean watched in amusement as June struggled to maintain her sour expression in the face of Sam's sunshine smile, as Dean called it. He only did it when he wasn't thinking about it, and it had been the driving factor behind more than one free scoop of ice cream over the course of their lifetimes.
Dean hadn't seen enough of it lately.
"What can I get for you?" She asked, slightly more polite now that Sam was seated also, and Dean repressed a snigger. Sam's eyes met his, and Dean realized that Sam must have quickly summed up the situation when he walked in, as laughter danced in his own eyes.
The little shit had done it on purpose.
Dean let his own smile free.
Good for Sam.
Sam looked over at the young couple. "Yours smells amazing, what did you order?" He asked conversationally, and June's eyelid twitched.
The young woman looked over at Sam. "Oh, it is. Chicken pot pie, I swear, it's better than my grandmother's, but don't tell her!"
Sam smiled earnestly. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
"Passing through?" Dean asked casually, joining the conversation.
The woman nodded. "We got so lucky. We just stopped for gas, and Scotty realized one of our brake lines was leaking. We could have been killed!"
Sam's eyes widened. "Talk about luck. How long to fix it?"
The man spoke up then. "Small town like this, he had to send a guy the next town over for a part, by he's promised to have us on the road by nightfall."
Sam nodded. "Gotta love small town hospitality. You know, my brother Dean's a hell of a mechanic, we travel with some spare parts cause we do a lot of driving. Want him to take a look, see if he has the hose Scottie needs?"
Dean nodded approvingly, guessing Sam's plan.
The woman hesitated. "Thanks, but, I'd feel better if we used the one the manufacturer recommends." She said.
"Sure, sure, of course. Just thought we'd offer." Dean said, smiling big.
June clanked down to pot pies, and Dean wondered if she had spit in them of the way out of the kitchen.
"You too just passing through, then?" She asked shortly.
Dean's eyes met Sam's, and Sam drew a photo out of his pocket, handing it over to her. "My brother and I are looking for anyone who remembers our cousin, Jesse. He passed through last year, on a cross country trip with his girlfriend, Tessa. The phone company says the last time they had reception was right outside of Merit."
Scottie broke in then, with a voice like sour lemons. "Phone's don't work to well in Merit. We're too small to have our own tower. Wouldn't rely too much on what the phone company says."
Dean smiled tightly. "We'll keep that in mind."
Dean climbed back into the car, Sam doing the same on the passenger's side. From the cafe's window, he could feel the stares of June, Harley and the charming Scottie.
"That's got to be them." Sam said without preface.
Dean nodded, looking over at his brother. "We need more info on the best way to kill this thing. If we can't do it by tonight, we have to find a way to stop the sacrifice."
"Library?" Sam asked wryly.
Dean made a face. "Library." He agreed reluctantly.