Chapter 1
Somewhere in North Carolina, March 6th 2006
Outside the window, the landscape drifted past, revealing one blooming field after another before turning more barren and hillocked. Soon, trees took over and before long they drove through a large hardwood forest area, every mile bringing them closer to their destination. The radio was playing "The road I'm on" by 3 Doors Down, its rock tunes contrasting sharply with the quiet countryside.
Sam had no ear for the song, nor an eye for the scenery, beautiful as the soft, rolling hills and rich woods of the Piedmont area may be. His sole focus lay on his father's journal and the files and articles he and Dean had gathered concerning the mysterious death of two teenagers in Pickens county, South Carolina. And the mysterious death of a middle-aged man two years before that. And that of a young woman ten years ago. Sam sighed, while he looked through almost 200 years of regional history, counting no less than 23 deaths which seemed to be connected to each other by one factor only: the place, where the bodies were found after weeks, sometimes even months of searching. The reports Sam had managed to extract from the state police's database were vague, stating only that their bodies were found inside something called the "Jocassee church ruins" and that every one of them, according to the autopsy, had died from thirst, which, according to the officers writing the reports, seemed strange as the church ruins were located close to Lake Jocasse, a large lake which was artificially created in 1967. And even before the emergence of Lake Jocassee, the area surrounding the church ruins was filled with small ponds and creeks. No one working with these cases seemed to be able to explain how seemingly healthy people had failed to keep themselves alive with water less than a mile away. There had been no signs of injury, no ropes which would have held them, no walls, no visible external aspects whatsoever.
"So", Dean said with a smirk, prompting Sam to look up from his documents. "I guess that's our murder mystery of the week." I must have thought aloud, Sam mused and smiled at his older brother's casual turn of phrase. With some delay he replied "Uh, I guess" and pulled out the file on the two teenagers, who had lived in the nearby university town Clemson. "Peter Harris and Kathy Mould, both 15 years old, were found two weeks ago in the ruins of the old Jocassee church", he summarised. "They had been missing for a week, when Peter's twin sister, Martha Harris, showed up at the local police station, apparently crying her eyes out. She told the officer in charge that she had abetted Kathy and Peter to spend one night inside the ruins of the old church, mainly so Peter could see what – and I quote - 'kind of an ugly, stupid, cowardly bitch' he was dating."
Dean sneered, but Sam decided to cut him off before he could utter one of his smart-ass remarks: "The police found Peter and Kathy in the dead center of the church, holding hands, their eyes closed as if they had died in their sleep. Dehydrated, of course."
"Who were the other victims?", Dean asked, more severe this time, his eyes fixed on the road. They were still in North Carolina, taking highway 178 towards Pickens, and were right now passing the Nantahala National Forest.
Sam didn't even blink at the word "victims", even though none of the files ever used that term for the deceased. If he and Dean had had any doubts about someone or something killing those people, they wouldn't be here. "The first one recorded dates back to 1889, a farmer by the name of Jason Matthews, not much information available on him. As far as I know, he went missing in the winter of 1888 and was not found until march 1889. There are some rumours, however, about other farmers who disappeared in the years before that, but I have no dates, nothing solid. The next one was an old woman who lived in the Jocassee Gorges. No one had reported her missing, but hunters found her body in 1907."
"Hunters?", Dean repeated, obviously intrigued by the word, but Sam shook his head. "Just regular hunters", he explained, continuing with his summary. "The list goes on, more farmers, a few hunters, then, in the late 50s, tourists start disappearing and later turn up inside the church. After the death of three hikers in 1973, the state police decides to lock down the area."
"Let me guess", Dean interrupted. "Only thing they achieve is to attract more people."
"Right", Sam confirmed, "A group of teens decide to throw a party inside the ruins."
"Something crashes the party and they all end up dead", Dean guessed. "Same old story."
"Not quite." Sam began searching for a specific file, rustling with the paper. "Here", he said, "One of them survived. Dad made a note of this in his journal. The girl, 15 years old, was found wandering in the woods five days later, maundering about strange noises and voices in her head. She was convinced that her friends still existed inside of her and were punishing her for being alive."
"How did she escape?", Dean wanted to know. A road sign told them that they were five miles away from South Carolina.
"That's just the thing, she claims that she hadn't had to escape from anything. She had been out gathering firewood, and when she got back, her friends apparently had dropped dead. Then she began hearing voices, calling her from everywhere in an unknown language, and she ran away from the ruins into the woods. Says, she doesn't remember what happened in the five days she was alone, doesn't know how she survived either."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "So her friends just ... died?"
"Apparantly had dropped dead", Sam corrected, "She told the police they were still breathing when she left the church, but she couldn't wake them up."
"But when they found them, they were dead?"
"Yeah..." Sam's answer came hesitantly, he flipped between two of the files and added: "Actually, we could ask her ourselves. She lives in an asylum in Pickens, that's just a couple of miles from Lake Jocassee. Seems to be quite deranged, though."
"Let's keep her in mind", Dean said and changed the subject: "What about the others, any more witnesses?"
Sam shook his head. "Nope, none. Some more tourists, a few locals, and then our story ends with the twins and the unwelcome girlfriend. The only thing connecting them seems to be our mystery Jocassee Church."
Dean gave him a questioning look. "Did you find anything about it?"
"Not much." Sam found another piece of paper, reading the handwritten notes on the side of a tightly written text. He didn't even look up, when the Impala brushed past the state border and his brother said: "Welcome to South Carolina. Please make sure to visit one of our deadly ruins." He ignored Dean and went on: "Seems to be placed on some little island in the lake."
"That's a strange place for a church", Dean remarked.
"That's because it wasn't always an island. Back in 1967, the Duke Power Company built a dam, flooding a part of the Jocassee Gorges in order to provide the upstate area with electricity. Lake Jocassee is an artificial lake, and according to this article, various villages and old settlements were submerged during the flooding process. Including Jocassee Creek, the settlement responsible for the construction of our mystery church."
"I hope they sent out a warning in advance."
"They did, for the other villages. There was no need concerning Jocassee Creek as no one decided to move into the empty houses after our main disaster."
"Aka the big badaboom", Dean said with a lopsided sneer.
"The fire of 1814, exactly", Sam replied. "Someone trapped all settlers inside the church and set it on fire. According to these articles, no one survived. Kinda gives your the creeps, doesn't it?" He looked at Dean, his hazel eyes filled with a deep sorrow and compassion for the settlers' brutal fate. "Burning to death... knowing that everyone you love will die the same way as you..." He shivered.
"I guess that kind of desperation could drive you mad." Dean returned Sam's look and tried to give him an encouraging smile, which Sam accepted half-heartedly. They had other things to think about right now, and he was thankful that his older brother returned to the subject. "So, what do you think? Vengeful spirit?"
"Almost certain of it", Sam concurred. "Someone who envies the living for their life and therefore snatches it away. Just a strange m.o. for a ghost."
"I agree. Tell you what – once we meet our spirit, we just ask it politely. And then we waste it – rock salt, holy water, iron, the whole shebang." Dean slowed down the Impala and pointed at a road sign some yards ahead of them, which soon was followed by a crossroad. Pickens, 10 miles to their left, Lake Jocassee, 8 miles to their right. "But for now I say we check out these ruins." He grinned expectantly and turned right.
XXXXX
"That's as close as my baby can get us", Dean proclaimed a few hours later, pulled over and stopped the engine. Sam was pretty sure they were in the middle of nowhere, but according to the map they had found a small, dusty lane that went by the name of Bootleg Road. The old church was not even mentioned by that very same map, but in the file on Harris and Mould one of the officers had been so kind as to include a print of the area with a bold, red circle around a small island in Lake Jocassee.
"Then we better get a move on", Sam responded and opened the car door on his side. While Dean gathered their backpacks from the backseat, he took two shotguns filled with rock salt from the trunk and stowed away his father's journal and his own notes about the case in a briefcase.
"And who would we like to be on this fine day?", he heard Dean call from the backseat. Most certainly his brother was looking through their fake identities, trying to find one that would help them with their present case. "Let's see... U.S. Marshals... Journalists... Surgeons... Psychologists... Ah..." Sam could almost hear him smile from ear to ear. "How about Federal Law Enforcement Officers, working on a federal case of dehydrated victims..."
Sam didn't protest; this one seemed as good to him as any other identity as long as they didn't have more information concerning this job. They just needed some kind of I.D. in case someone ran into them at the ruins and asked some questions.
"Here you go, officer ... Stephen Adler." Dean came around the car and handed him a badge and a passport, then continued: "And say hello to officer Matt Sorum. You ready to go?"
Sam nodded, taking one of the backpacks as well as the map. "Jocassee Church is just half a mile behind those trees, with about 200 feet of shallow water inbetween."
"That is one lucky spirit", Dean commented and added, once he saw Sam's confused look: "I mean, the whole town goes Little Mermaid, but the one place our guy is haunting stays above ground?"
"Might be lucky for us too – who knows, maybe this thing would have haunted the whole lake if its haunting ground had gone 'Little Mermaid' as well", Sam countered, not quite in the mood for his brother's jokes. The knowledge about what had happened on Jocassee Island still occupied his thoughts, making him wonder what kind of person would kill more than 30 people, including children and women, and whether this person had found rest in his death. Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he shouldered his bag and turned towards the island. "Let's go."
XXXXX
Moving swiftly through the underbrush of the hartwood forest, Sam and Dean made their way towards Jocassee Island. After half an hour, the trees were replaced by a narrow beach with white sand and a handful of dead trees lying a few feet away from the forest. An old camp fire was placed directly by the lake, but it had been abandoned a long time ago. Sam gazed across the water, studying the opposite shore and the trees behind it closely. There seemed to be nothing suspicious about the island, but he knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, the weight of the settlers' story was wearing of, and he was actually able to enjoy the fresh spring air. After a few seconds he looked down at the clear blue water, below which he could spot a bright path leading from the promontory he was standing on over to the island. "I think we can just wade through", he pondered, "unless you're afraid of your Little Mermaid?"
Dean acknowledged Sam's mood change with a smile and mumbled something incomprehensible before setting a foot in the water. His shoe disappeared in the white sand and he grimaced as the cold water soaked his sock and finally reached his skin. "Polar bears, if anything", he answered and hurried through the lake. Sam followed suit, keeping a wary eye out the whole time.
Before long, they reached the opposite shore and followed a small footpath to the western part of the island. They found two more camp fires, one of them being quite new, empty cans and even an old, ragged backpack, lying behind some bushes. Apparently, the old church was, despite three "Do not enter"-signs along the way, more of an attraction than both of them had expected, taken its long history of death into account.
The moment he saw the ruins, Sam understood why. In the middle of a large clearing, the old Jocassee Church arose with stonewalls black as night. 200 years ago, the building must have been quite a sight, measuring about 200 feet in length times 70 feet in width, Sam judged by eye. The foundation wall was still standing, although at some places it had been breached. Most parts of the wall were reaching up to his hips, except for the old portal on the western side of the church and the walls to both sides of it, which were still in one piece and stood out from the rest of the ruins like some kind of defiant soldier who wasn't ready to accept his downfall. Inside the church, the floor was still intact, and stone benches stood row by row, most of them fragmented and black like most of the bricks on the inner wall. On the eastern side, Sam could see the remains of an altar in the form of a altar stone lying on the ground, which was unusually large as it measured roughly 40 inches in length, 30 inches in width and 20 inches in height. Behind it, three steps of a staircase arose, which probably had led up to some sort of sacristy. Now all that was left of the eastern side was a pile of black stones.
Dean was the first one to regain his power of speech: "Must have been some hefty fire."
Sam nodded, still unable to say anything. Even though the terrible event had taken place almost 200 years ago, sensations of anguish and pain washed over him at the sight of the ruins, almost paralysing him. He needed a few more seconds to ward these feelings off, then he took a deep breath and concurred: "Yeah, you're right. Seems to have poisoned the ground too."
Dean blinked, took another look at the old church and said: "Well, I'll be damned." He climbed unto one of the higher pieces of the wall to get an overview over the clearing, giving an impressed whistle at his brother's discovery. The line of trees formed a perfect circle around the church, inside which nothing grew, no bushes, no grass, not even weeds. After 200 years of desolation, these stones should have been crawling with wild plants, pine trees should have reclaimed their natural habitat and the forest should have covered all of the ruins by now, but the area around Jocassee Church was as barren as the day the church had burnt down.
"Unholy ground", the brothers uttered simultaneously, and Dean added almost pleased: "Now we're talking!"
Sam didn't need any other encouragement to take the EMF-meter from his backpack. Placing himself directly in the dead center of the circle, he turned the device on and waited a heartbeat for it to start. Only a few seconds later, there was no doubt about the nature of their main objective: The EMF started beeping wildly, the needle raced towards the high end of the scale.
"Well, something has been here", Sam commented while moving in the direction of the western treeline. When he passed the archway, the needle jumped right off the scale, but fell back to a more moderate level once Sam had left the church. The device went to zero as soon as he had crossed the line dividing clearing from forest. "And it seems to be constricted to that specific area." He pointed back at the church.
"That's comforting", Dean snorted. "Somehow it still manages to keep people inside that circle."
"Well..." Sam moved inside the circle again, left it, and entered it again. "I'm still awake. Seems to be constricted to a specific range of time too."
"When did you say that girl came here?", Dean asked, jumping down from the wall with a nonchalant move.
"Few minutes after eight, I think", Sam replied, "An unusual time for a vengeful spirit to appear."
"But not if something happened at exactly that time, right?", Dean persisted.
Sam nodded again. "That's one possible explanation, yeah. We could try and return tomorrow night, after we've done some more digging on the history of this place. But for now let's see if we can't find any more clues."
They split up again, wandering around the ruins for a few more hours and literally turning a stone or two, but apart from the missing plant life and the strong EMF-signal they found nothing. Sam walked around the entire outer wall, looking for signs that might have explained the unholy ground, while Dean investigated the inside of the church. Once they had finished their part of the church, they switched, hoping that four eyes would be able to detect more than two, but at last they had to give up empty handed. Whatever mysteries the old Jocassee Church held, they weren't to be found here. Not in broad daylight, anyway.
"Beautyful scenery, zero usefulness", Dean sighed and took a look at his watch. Half past four p.m. "I'm starving. Let's find a place to crash for the night."
Sam was just about to agree, when he noticed something strange by the tree line. Without saying a word, he moved towards a couple of bushes flanking the circle and knelt down in order to get a closer look. Dean followed him, confusion spreading on his face as Sam picked up a small violet flower and held it right in front of his nose with a triumphant grin. "Very pretty", Dean commented in a playfully bored tone. "But I don't think it'll be enough to feed us both."
Sam just stared at him in disbelief. "You don't recognise this?" After thirty seconds of silence and a shrug from Dean, Sam sighed and explained readily: "Devil's bit, Dean. 4 lobed flowers, un-lobed leaves?"
"Kinda rings a bell", Dean admitted.
"Your joking, right?" Sam stood up and waved the flower back and forth. "Remember what Dad taught us? This flower is known for its ability to add compulsive and controlling power to any spell it is made part of."
Dean didn't exactly look like he remembered any of this, but now that he knew what Sam was fishing for, his face lit up and he said: "So theoretically, it could be used to keep someone inside a ... circle."
"In combination with the right spell, yes", Sam concurred. "I'll look into it once we've found a place to stay for the night."
XXXXX
According to the map, the village closest to Lake Jocassee was Boones Creek. However, as there seemed to be no motel situated there, Sam and Dean decided to drive some miles back in the direction of the state border and then made a right turn towards Pickens. They reached the town just after nightfall and rented a room at the Laurel Mountain Inn, an upscale motel located in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Dinner consisted of fast food from a local diner, which after a day on dry biscuits and luke warm coke tasted like a world class menu.
"I don't quite get it", Sam muttered between a handful of French fries and a chicken nugget dipped in tomato sauce. He was sitting at a small table opposite of the TV, looking through the case files once more. "If, and that's a pretty big if, this spirit actually is able to bind its victims to that circle, wouldn't its powers seize to exist as soon as its hour of vengance passes?" Dean, who had just taken a bite from his hamburger, just shrugged his shoulders, so Sam went on with his thoughts: "I mean, granted, most spirits we've encountered were active a whole night at a time, but a timeframe of 8-12 hours is just not enough for someone to die from dehydration."
"Did Dad mention anything on this in his journal?", Dean asked before finishing his burger and emptying his glass in one gulp.
"Not really... He's printed an article about this Leyla girl, marking her name and the words 'apparently died from thirst'. Only interesting thing are the words 'spirit circle?' and 'imprisoned?', both ended by question marks, in Dad's handwriting. He must have had the same lack of ideas we have."
"What about that flower you found?", Dean tried a new approach.
"Apparently, its roots are used in Hoodoo magic, but I couldn't find anything on it being used as a part of binding spells. I guess it is possible to combine its powers with any kind of control-based magic, and it might even keep the victim of the spell bound to a place long enough for him or her to die from thirst, but I don't think a vengeful spirit could do that kind of trick."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty convinced."
"Well, of course all of my theories are based on what we have encountered so far, and correct me if I'm wrong, but all vengeful spirits we have met had, even though they were quite powerful, only common weapons at their disposal. Razors, rope, their own fingernails... but spells? I don't know. Maybe we're heading down the wrong alley." Sam ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long-drawn-out sigh. "How about we get some sleep? Talk to Leyla first thing in the morning, do some more research when we've had a good night's sleep."
"That's the best idea I've heard all day", Dean replied with a yawn. He stood up, took three steps towards the kingsized bed and let himself fall down on the heavenly soft matress, sighing audibly. "Now this is life", he said with a grin and stretched his body with relish. Sam, who despite his words still had been pondering over the old church and its secrets, looked up and raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise: "You don't think that's where you're going to sleep, do you?"
Dean chuckled and countered without gazing back at his brother: "I won't even dignify that question with an answer."
"Hey, you were the one too tired to look for another motel with more vacant rooms than the King Bed Suite!", Sam gave back, now getting up and walking slowly over to his brother. "That's why I get to sleep here", he leaned himself on the thick matress with both hands and continued: "and you", at this he grasped the flannel coverlet, "get to sleep down there!". During these last words, he pulled the coverlet in his direction with a hefty jerk and followed up on Dean's surprised gasp by flinging himself against his older brother, thereby catapulting him out of the large bed.
"Nighty night", Sam purred with a voice as sweet as sugar and blew a kiss down at Dean, who stared at him in a mixture of disbelief, surprise and injured pride. Then Sam readied himself for the counter attack.