What's Dead Should Stay Dead
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even in the fantasy world I've created in my head. Sheesh.
Thank you: To Jen B for the suggestions. This chapter is unbeta'd so all errors are my own. BG.
Warning: Minor Season 2 spoilers.
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Dean turned around and noticed an elderly man and his dog walking towards them. "Hello!" the man called waving his cane in their direction. The black lab by his side ran towards Sam and Dean, carrying a tennis ball in his mouth, his tail whipping about. "You boys be careful," the man said picking his way closer to them. "There's an empty grave behind you. I wouldn't want you to fall in and get hurt."
Sam sniggered and Dean thumped him once on the arm. "Dude, shut up," he whispered hotly under his breath.
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16:47:03 Friday, Waskeegan Inn, Flatt Plains, Iowa
"You boys be careful. I wouldn't want you to fall in and get hurt," Sam teased in a sing-song voice from his position behind the laptop.
"Dude, shut up," Dean repeated. "At least I didn't break my hand getting tackled by a girl."
"She was a zombie," Sam protested mildly. "And she was fast."
"She was a girl," Dean insisted. He stared at the yellowed oil painting on the wall. It was a replica painting of dogs playing poker. He had always liked that picture. The paint on the walls and ceiling were stained yellow and a faint smell of cigarettes still lingered in the room. The entire motel was non-smoking, but obviously had not always been that way.
Dean looked over at Sam. His face was lit by blue light from the computer and his fingers tugged at his bottom lip, a sure sign he was intrigued by what he was reading. "What'd ya find?" Dean asked.
Sam did not look up, but replied, "I'm not sure they're related, but a new church was established in town about six months ago by Ezra Umholtz. It's called the Church of Chevalier de Saxe."
Dean shot Sam a quizzical look that went unnoticed by his fully engrossed brother. "Should that mean something to me?" he asked crossing his legs and lying back against the pillows. He pulled out his cell phone and his earbuds intent on losing himself to music for awhile, a small indulgence after hours of driving. He stretched carefully, the muscles in his back protesting slightly. Although, the crash landing into the empty grave probably had more to do with it than the hours he had spent in the car.
"What? Sorry," Sam apologized squirming in his chair to get more comfortable. "Chevalier de Saxe was a ghost summoned by Schrepfer in Wraxalls, Memoirs of the Counts of Berlin, Dresden, Warsaw and Vienna. Chevalier de Saxe was summoned because it was reputed he had hidden a large sum of money in his castle and his principal heir was attempting to locate it."
"Sounds more than a little coincidental to me," Dean replied scrolling through his music list. "We need to make a house call to Ezra."
"They conduct services at the church every Friday, Saturday and Sunday from midnight to three a.m.," Sam stated. "Another indicator they are part of the group we are looking for."
"They aren't going to let us just walk into one of their services," Dean replied. "I'm sure they keep the actual goals of their little church a carefully guarded secret. We may have to do a little recon on this one."
Sam nodded in assent and replied, "Plenty of time for more research."
"And dinner," Dean added popping in his earbuds. "Wake me at eight o'clock."
"Sure," Sam replied automatically, gazing intently at the monitor screen.
Dean shook his head and set the alarm on his cell phone. It was obvious he could not count on Mr. I'm-too-involved-in-research-to-remember-to-do-anything-but-breathe to wake him up. "Hey, Sam," Dean said.
"Hmm?' Sam replied absently.
"That Ezra Umholtz guy, is he from around here?" Dean asked.
"No," Sam replied. "Pennsylvania, actually."
"Not expecting that," Dean muttered securing his earbuds and selecting a song. Don't Fear the Reaper, blasted through Dean's ears and into his skull. Although a burgeoning headache beckoned the music helped keep it at bay.
"I'll let you know if I find anything significant," Sam replied not realizing Dean was already lost in his music.
Dean crossed his arms and settled back into the pillows hoping to catch a short nap. It had taken awhile to fall asleep last night and the hours spent driving had caught up to him. His mind was peacefully free of rampant thoughts as he focused on the lyrics and before long he dozed off.
Approximately two hours later he awoke with a start, instantly awake. Something wasn't right. Dean sat bolt upright and looked over at Sam, or rather, where Sam should be. The laptop was still open and booted up. The screen saver hadn't even kicked on yet so Sam had been using it less than fifteen minutes ago. He looked over towards the bathroom, but the door was open and obviously Sam was not in there.
Dean sprang out of bed and headed for the door when Sam walked in. He had a bag of chips dangling from his mouth and a soda in one hand. "Where were you?" Dean demanded.
Sam shot him a questioning look and held up the can of soda. Pocketing the room key, he snagged the bag of chips and replied, "Hungry." Sam noted Dean's expression and asked, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Dean replied. "I was wondering where you were because I'm hungry too. Gonna shower first and then let's grab some dinner." Dean turned to riffle through his duffle looking for a suitably clean shirt. He could feel Sam watching him, but he ignored it. Standing up he was face to face with Sam. "What?" Dean asked.
"And that's it?" Sam asked his face perfectly conveying his disbelief. "You looked a little, I dunno know, on edge when I walked in," Sam said choosing his words carefully.
"Your imagination must be working overtime," Dean replied dismissively. There was no way he was going to confess his brotherly instincts seemed to be in overdrive. That the very lack of Sam's presence was enough to wake him from a sound sleep. "I'll be out in five minutes."
Sam snorted and replied, "I've never seen you shower in five minutes."
"That's not true," Dean defended. "Remember the time in Albuquerque when dad came barreling in and announced we had ten minutes to pack up and leave?"
"Yes, no, I'm not sure," Sam replied frowning. "He did that a lot."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam's waffling response, but did not comment on it. "Yeah, well this particular time you were five years old and covered in chocolate syrup. I managed to get you cleaned up, grab a shower and get us packed in nine and half minutes. That's skill."
Sam grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "That is skill," Sam replied conceding Dean's point. He opened the small bag of vending machine potato chips and popped one in his mouth. Dean reached in and grabbed a handful of chips before heading for the bathroom. "Hey!" Sam protested.
"It's payment for doubting me," Dean remarked waving a fistful of chips in Sam's general direction. He walked towards the shower relishing the thought of hot water on stiff muscles.
"Whatever," Sam huffed half-heartedly still sporting a partial grin. He flopped down in the chair in front of the computer and started powering it down.
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Despite Dean's declarations of promptness it was nearly nine o'clock before they were seated in Carlotta's Café for dinner. Dean slid into the booth closest to the door taking a seat where he could face the entrance to the café. Sam sat down on the opposite side and looked up at the waitress when she set water glasses down in front of them. "Thanks, Georgianne," Sam said spotting her name tag. He flipped his coffee mug right-side up.
"No problem, hon," Georgianne replied filling his cup. She handed the boys menus and filled Dean's now brim-side up mug. "The special today is the stir-fried chicken and steamed rice."
"I'll take that," Sam said handing Georgianne back the menu without cracking it open.
As silence fell Dean looked up over the top of his menu and flashed Georgianne a glimpse of his megawatt smile. "What would you recommend?" he asked.
"Me personally, I really like our bacon cheeseburger," Georgianne replied without hesitation. "It's great and the onion rings are beer battered."
"My kind of girl," Dean replied handing her the menu. "Sounds great." Georgianne offered Dean a smile before she walked away.
Sam doctored his coffee until he achieved the desired light brown color he craved. "Ezra Umholtz belongs to the Pow-wow Church in Pennsylvania; or rather he did until he moved out here. However, he did spend an inordinate amount of time in Louisianna according to the airline ticket purchases on his VISA statements."
"Sam, that sounds suspiciously like you've been hacking into someone's computer systems," Dean replied sarcastically.
"Me? Never," Sam insisted sardonically. "That would be illegal and unethical."
"True," Dean replied with a knowing look. "It does sound more like me."
Sam ignored Dean's comment and continued, "The Pow-wow church is a mixture of Roman Catholicism and European folk magic. It was one set of folk magic customs that influenced the United States version of Hoodoo."
"How come we've never heard of it before?" Dean asked glancing up when Georgianne placed a bowl of soup in front of him. "What's this?" he asked directing his question to Georgianne this time.
"It's soup," she explained with a small laugh. "I would think a guy your age would have eaten soup before."
"I have," Dean replied scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.
"Then, why'd you ask?" Georgianne asked placing a bowl in front of Sam as well.
"I guess the better question is why," Dean admitted raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry, I can't resist teasing you boys," Georgianne replied with another small laugh. "Everyone we normally get in here is old or rough around the edges. Soup comes with the meal." Georgianne acknowledged a gentleman in the corner with a wave of her hand. "Gotta go," she whispered and walked quickly over to the other table.
Sam shook his head and asked, "Where was I?"
"Pow-wow, and why we've never heard of it before," Dean supplied taking a bite of the clam chowder. "Not bad," he remarked.
"Right," Sam replied not touching his soup. "It's not widely practiced and it's primarily folk cures. It's not associated with necromancy, but since it did influence Hoodoo it's easy to see how someone who knew or studied Pow-wow could've traced the dots to Hoodoo."
"Someone like Ezra Umholtz," Dean speculated.
"Yeah maybe," Sam replied with a nod. He took a bite of the clam chowder and pushed it away. He was never really fond of the sometimes gritty clams.
"You gonna eat that?" Dean questioned pointing a spoon at the bowl of chowder.
"Have at it," Sam offered pushing the bowl closer to Dean.
Dean pulled the bowl towards him and ate a couple of bites before asking, "You did find an address for that church, didn't you?"
"Yeah, of course," Sam replied surprised Dean even had to ask.
Dean chuckled lightly. "I was just checking," he remarked. "I figure we should get there around eleven so we have time to poke around and get out before the party starts. We can sit in the car and watch who the players are as they start to arrive."
"We should look for the altar," Sam stated. "True necromancy would require a blood soaked altar, resurrection symbols, candles; it'll be pretty obvious what it is, if we find it."
"When we find it," Dean corrected with a smirk. "We'll find it."
"Find what?" Georgianne asked placing Dean's cheeseburger meal down in front of him. "Maybe I can give you directions. I've lived here my whole life." She placed Sam's plate down in front of him as well.
"I think we're good," Dean replied.
"Are you sure?" Georgianne asked. "I could point you towards Pinky the Elephant or Spook Cave."
Sam grinned. "Dean's seen plenty of pink elephants," he remarked. Dean glared across the table at Sam.
"I'll just bet he has," Georgianne replied. "You boys need anything else?"
"No, we're fine," Sam replied cutting off Dean before he could reply.
"Okay, just flag me down if you change your mind," Georgianne replied turning on her heel and walking away.
"Sam, what did you do that for?" Dean asked.
Sam smiled and replied, "I figured I'd cut you off before you could get started." He dug into is stir-fry relishing the taste of food that had actually been in the ground at some point.
"Funny," Dean replied attacking his cheeseburger with gusto. The meal continued on in silence as the brothers ate their meals.
An hour later, Sam and Dean were in the Impala headed for the Chevalier de Saxe. Sam was fidgeting in his seat and jiggling his leg. "Something bugging you, Sam?" Dean asked glancing over at Sam.
"No," Sam said sounding genuinely surprised by the question. Dean turned his attention back to the road. His little brother was apparently unaware of his nervous habit. He would give Sam the time he needed to confess. Sam always did, eventually.
Dean turned on the radio and spun the dial until he found a song he liked. He thumped out the beat and sang along to AC/DC's, You Shook Me All Night Long, when the music shifted to a woman singing about lovely lady humps after the chorus. "What the hell?" Dean said with a horrified look. He hastily turned off the radio and shot Sam a dirty look in response to his brother's chuckling.
"I think it's a remix," Sam supplied with another chuckle.
"It's wrong," Dean insisted with a frown. "It's just wrong."
Dean turned down the dirt road leading to the church of the Chevalier de Saxe. He pulled the Impala to a stop behind some low bushes on the dark side of the road opposite the church. Dean twisted in the seat and gazed at the dark building. "You ready?" he asked.
"Yeah, Dean, do you think this is a good idea?" Sam asked finally. "It seems as if walking into the church right before the services is a risky plan."
"Most of our plans are," Dean replied with a shrug.
"There's something I'm missing," Sam insisted with a frown. "Something that I should be seeing."
"You'll figure it out," Dean reassured him. "Let's go." Dean exited the car and waited for Sam to join him before heading out across the road over to the Chevalier de Saxe.
The church was dark and quiet save a few dozen candles burning in the entry way. The interior of the church was pitch-black and Dean flicked on his flashlight keeping it low to the ground. The air was cool and a slight unidentifiable odor hung in the air. Dean looked over at Sam who had also turned on his flashlight and was examining something on the ground. "What did you find?" Dean asked quietly.
"Not sure," Sam whispered. "Could be dried blood."
Dean bent down closer to the spots on the floor. They did have the rusty color of dried blood, but it was difficult to be sure. "Looks like it," Dean agreed in a hushed voice. "Let's follow the breadcrumbs, Gretel." Sam frowned at Dean's back, but remained silent.
The blood trail led to the back corner of the room and to a closed door. Dean tried the handle, but of course, it was locked. He silently handed Sam his flashlight and pulled out his pick set. Sam shined the light for Dean and within seconds the door opened with a hoarse creak.
Sam handed Dean back his flashlight and pointed his through the open door. Stairs led down into a cavernous basement. Whatever odor was in the air was stronger now that the door to the basement was open. Dean stepped in front of him and headed down the stairs. Sam followed closely behind closing the door behind him.
The stairway opened into a large boiler room. There was no sign of anything unusual, but the faint blood trail continued towards the left. Sam and Dean shined their lights around the room looking for any signs of an altar, symbols or other evidence of necromancy ceremonies. The room contained stacked cardboard boxes, antique, dusty glassware and cleaning supplies, but nothing that would indicate nefarious rituals took place in the church.
Dean tapped Sam on the arm and jerked his head to the left signaling his desire to continue following the blood trail. He headed down the hall with Sam walking slightly behind him and to his right. Dean glanced around as they continued further into the basement watching for areas to hide should they be discovered. He paused when the blood trail ended at another locked door.
Repeating his actions from earlier, Dean picked the lock and opened the door. The door opened soundlessly, but as the air from inside the room rushed out Dean choked back a gag. The air down here was permeated with the undeniable stench of decay.
Sam stepped into the room behind Dean and shined his flashlight into the dark corners of the room until he found the source of the odor. "God, Dean," he whispered.
The body on the black cloth covered table in the corner was female. Long, blonde hair fell in waves from her head over the edge of the table. The body did not appear to be clothed, but was instead covered in a white sheet that was stained with seeping body fluids and blood.
Her skin was a pale shade of green and her face and abdomen were swollen and puffy. The exposed skin on her arms was cracked and oozing fluid. The color of her nearly gelatinous, open eyes was difficult to determine in the dim light.
Dean pulled back the sheet and examined the body. Open wounds on her chest and abdomen gave the appearance of an animal attack. Tears and marks on her skin suspiciously similar to teeth tracks or bites littered her upper torso. The injuries were consistent with a sharp-toothed animal latching on to skin and ripping flesh loose.
"She's only been dead for a few days," Dean stated finally. He stepped closer and shined his light around the table and the body. Light glinted off an object on the floor and Dean stooped to examine it. He picked up a small metal object connected to a delicate chain. Sam stood over his shoulder and added his light to Dean's. The object in question was a delicately carved amulet with a large green stone.
Sam snagged the amulet from Dean's hand and inspected it carefully. The engravings looked familiar to him and Sam fingered the grooves hoping it would spark a memory. He looked up when Dean tapped him on the shoulder and heard the faint sound of footfalls on the floor above them. Sam pocketed the amulet and locked the door from the inside before closing it gently behind him as he followed Dean back into the passageway.
As they neared the stairway Dean stopped abruptly in front of him and Sam had to backpedal quickly to avoid running into him. Dean held up his hand and motioned to his right. Sam ducked into the low crawlspace followed closely by Dean. The brothers hunched in the dark, dusty space waiting.
The door to the basement opened with a distinctive creaking that had both brothers craning their heads upwards towards the doorway. Multiple footsteps echoed around the concrete room. Hushed whispers accompanied the footsteps, swelling and shifting in intensity as people descended into the basement.
"…Ezra's control over the spirit of Thomas Harrigan will be harnessed tonight with the help of Ezra's latest success," one voice whispered.
"So we hope," another voice replied sounding less optimistic. "It doesn't seem as if…"
The voiced faded and Dean watched as the last of the sandal clad feet passed by before he tugged at Sam's jacket. He led the way out of the crawlspace and silently up the stairs to the creaking door. As luck would have it, the door was slightly ajar and Dean eased it open cringing at the metallic groaning of the hinges.
"This way," Dean whispered pulling Sam towards the far side of the dark room. He had spotted the side door on the first trip through and he felt it was a safer, if somewhat slower, escape route than the well lit entry.
This door too was locked, but the deadbolt slid with ease and both brothers slipped through the opening. Dean led the way to the cover of the shrubbery on the east side of the church. He and Sam crouched in the shadows waiting as several cars slowed on the dirt road and turned into the parking lot, gravel crunching under their tires.
They could not see the entrance to the church from this angle and only minutes later, Dean tugged again on Sam's jacket in a silent signal to leave. Sam trailed slightly behind Dean as he ran to the waiting car.
The Impala's doors creaked a greeting as the Winchester brothers slid into the front seat. Simultaneous door slams preceded the roar of the engine as Dean started the Impala and pulled out onto the dark road. After flipping a u-turn, Dean flicked on the headlights and headed back to Flatt Plains.
"The engravings on this amulet look familiar," Sam stated pulling the amulet out of his jacket pocket. "I think I saw markings like this while I was researching this afternoon."
Dean spared him a quick glance and replied, "Do you remember where?"
"No, that's the problem," Sam replied. "I'm hoping I can find it again when we get back to the inn."
"You do need to sleep sometime," Dean lectured gently. He turned on the radio and tapped his silver ring lightly on the steering wheel in time to the beat.
"I will," Sam assured him. He placed the amulet back in his pocket and hunkered down in the seat pulling his jacket tighter around him. Dean, noticing Sam's actions turned up the heater and lowered the volume on the radio. If he played his cards right, Sam would fall asleep on the way back to town and get some much needed rest despite himself.
Dean smiled to himself when Sam's light snores reached his ears. He looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye and noticed the awkward angle in which Sam's neck was positioned. That would explain the snoring. Dean mentally congratulated himself on a mission accomplished before turning his attention back to the road and settling in for the drive back to town.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged pulling on Sam's shoulders. "We're here."
Sam roused and noticed they were back at the inn. "We're back," he remarked.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Time to head in and hit the sack," Dean replied. He stepped back and out of the way so Sam could exit the car. Sam pulled himself out of the Impala and staggered towards their room. Dean followed closely behind watching bemusedly as a sleepy Sam walked like a drunken sailor on a rolling ship.
By the time Dean had the door open Sam was practically sleeping on his feet propped against the side of the inn. He steered a compliant Sam into the room and onto the far bed. As Dean began to remove Sam's jacket, Sam struggled against him. "I don't wanna wrestle," Sam mumbled half asleep.
"Then wake up, kiddo," Dean replied with a grunt when Sam's elbow caught him in the stomach. Dean watched Sam for a minute while he sleepily shrugged off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and laid back on the bed with a flop. When Sam made no effort to get under the blankets, Dean shook his head and covered him with a blanket.
Crossing the room, Dean kicked off his own shoes and stripped down to his boxers before lying down on the bed. Dean glanced at his watch. One-thirty a.m. was earlier than they often made it back to a motel, able to crash in a bed and in one piece. He thought about the woman in the basement and wondered if the necromancy members had killed her themselves or if they were opportunistic scavengers of the recently dead. With those pleasant thoughts rolling about in his brain Dean dropped off to sleep.
TBC
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AN: We're almost back to the present! Feedback welcome and appreciated!
For the record I actually like, "You Humped Me All Night Long," the remix of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long," and Fergie's, "My Humps."
(c: