Disclaimer... I do not own Supernatural.
Dean groaned. His whole body hurt. What the hell had happened? Oh right. Crazy elk. He raised himself up on his elbows, gazing about. Sam lay fairly close to him, arm splayed out to the side.
Charlie's red hair was a splash of colour against the dark forest floor, and she looked all right, apart from a nasty bruise on her head.
Dean poked his stomach tentatively and barely managed to stifle a whimper. The area felt like one giant bruise.
He felt in his pocket for the bottle of water he carried, and half-crawled over to Sammy. His long hair had fallen over his face, making him look like the Snufflelouphaugus. Dean allowed himself a smirk, before splashing a bit of water over his face and slapping Sam's cheek gently.
Sam moaned slightly, and opened his eyes. His hazel eyes were foggy and confused, and he blinked slowly at Dean.
"Dean? What happen- erhghg"
Dean assumed the 'erhghg' was because of the injured arm, and resisted commenting on it.
"Easy, Sammy. You got a hurt arm. Just sit tight kid, I'm gonna go check on Charlie"
Sam nodded, face twisting into a grimace but he hauled himself into a seated position.
"Where'd the elk go?" he called over to Dean.
"Dunno. Wasn't there when I woke up. Maybe it was like a guard dog or sumtin'"
He poured a bit of the water over Charlie, and the redhead jerked, opening her eyes to glare at Dean. "Owww" she groaned, sitting up cautiously.
"You good?" Dean asked.
"S'ok. That freaking elk ran me over. I didn't know elks were aggressive"
Dean smiled. "I don't think they are, normally. I'm guessing the faeries had something to do with it"
She nodded, hauling herself painfully to her feet.
"Hey Charlie" Sam said.
"Dude, you're white as a sheet. Your arm hurt?"
"Yeah, it's bruised or something. We gotta get back to town. It'll be dark in a few minutes"
Dean limped back to his brother, hauling him up and draping Sam's good arm around his shoulder.
"You ok?" Dean asked.
"Yeah- ahh- I'm peachy"
The unfortunate trio stumbled back through the suddenly gloomy woods, trying to avoid slippery tree roots and patches of briar.
"Wish we could call Bobby" Dean muttered to Sam.
"Me too. We'll figure it out though"
After a painful half hour, they made it back to the LARP encampment, where Charlie limped back to her tent in search of ice and Advil.
Dean waved goodbye (since Sam couldn't) and promised to come back tomorrow, hopefully with new information before the two headed back to find the Impala, and hopefully a doctor.
The doctor at the lone clinic in town let out a whistle as the boys limped through her door.
She was a petite brunette in her early thirties with green eyes that looked weary with the endless compassion that she had to provide.
"Wow. What happened to you two?" she asked as she led Sam back to the treatment area. It was small and slightly shabby, but sparklingly clean, every surface scrubbed till in shone in defiance of germs.
"We got run over by a reindeer" Dean said grimly.
"You're kidding" the doctor raised her eyebrows as she sat Sam down on the paper covered bed gently.
"It was an elk" Sam groaned, as she gave him a shot of painkiller.
After the boys got patched up, they piled back into the Impala and started to search for accommodation.
There was a choice of two hotels in town. 'Miss Maybelle's Bed and Breakfast' or 'The Jungle Hotel and Casino'
"I think we should go to Miss Baymelle's" Sam giggled, "She sounds fun"
Dean did a double take, and stared at Sam. He was staring out the window, seemingly enchanted by everything he saw.
"Oh Jesus. I forgot how you get on those heavy duty pain meds. You're high"
Sam nodded solemnly "Like a plane" he stage whispered, "But don't tell Dean, he doesn't like planes"
"Dude, I'm right- oh never mind. Just look at the nice houses or whatever"
Sam smiled cheerily, and went back to peering out the window, nose practically pressed against the glass.
"Hey, dude?" he asked.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"I'm scared about the trials. I think I might die. Don't tell Dean though, I don't want him to know I'm scared"
Dean's heart clenched. His little brother was scared that he might die, and Dean didn't even realize it. Through all this mess, they had been together, but he never really knew how Sam felt. His brother had insisted on doing the trials. Dean should have fought harder against it.
"Listen up, Sammy" he managed to choke out eventually, "you are not going to die. I won't allow it, you hear? You're gonna finish these goddamned trials, and we're gonna slam the gates of Hell forever. After that, well, hell, life will be a party! Only got angels and monsters to worry about. But you are not going to die. I'm gonna take care of you, right? That's my job, after all"
Sam turned towards Dean, resting his head against the window. His hazel eyes looked damp and unfocused. "Ok" he said, "just don't tell Dean, all right?"
Dean swallowed and forced a grin, "Sure, Sammy. Our secret, ok?"
Eventually Dean made the tough call, and got a room at Miss Maybelle's.
Miss Maybelle herself was a short grandmotherly woman, who was squeezed into a frumpy lace and floral dress. She appeared to have a doily pinned to her head. Dean stared at the doily, propping up a still loopy Sammy.
She blended into the floral wall paper of the lobby, which was stuffed with heavy dark furniture and smelled like mothballs and roses. Dean gulped. The Jungle Hotel and Casino was sounding better every minute. Above the front desk that was fussily adorned with vases of dried flowers, a collection of novelty plates with kittens on them glared down at him with distaste.
"Honeymooners?" she asked squeakily, beaming happily at them, before spotting Sam and frowning, "Is your partner all right, sir?"
Dean gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Uh, no, this is my brother. He had a bit of a run in with some of the local wildlife"
"Sammy got run over by a reindeer!" Sam sang, spinning around and nearly falling over before Dean caught him.
Miss Maybelle's eyebrows were creeping up her forehead steadily.
"I see" she said evenly.
"He had a bad reaction to some of the pain medication they gave him" Dean offered, cursing internally. He should've remembered to check what type they were giving him.
Maybelle apparently decided to ignore the softly singing giant in her lobby, and turned her gaze on Dean. "Two rooms?" she asked.
"No, one will be fine" Dean tried to keep his eyes on Sammy as he roamed around inspecting the lobby, "two beds, though" he added hastily, in case the lady had forgotten the whole brothers thing.
It was hell to get Sam and their bags up the narrow flight of stairs. Dean managed, and finally crammed them through the door. Their room was more or less the same as downstairs, with cross-stitched pillows crammed onto over stuffed pink velvet arm chairs, and pink floral quilts on the two single beds. It was far from the worst place that they had stayed, but Dean almost longed for an abandoned building or a questionable motel. Crocheted doilies sprouted on every surface, like some sort of strange mould. Worst of all, a family of ceramic farm animals frolicked on the mantel piece of the merrily burning fire.
Sam finger waved at a gaudily painted lamb.
Dean sighed. "Alright Sammy, time to get some shut eye"
Sam nodded, and collapsed face first on the covers.
Sam woke first, his whole body a mass of bruises and scrapes. The early morning sun slipped through the lace curtains and the whole room was stiflingly hot, a thick stew of wood smoke and potpourri.
He headed to the windows, forcing them open though they protested and groaned. A wave of fresh air made him sigh in relief, and he stood for a moment, enjoying the fresh air.
He gazed around the room, eyebrows raised. It was just so pink. Sam downed a few painkillers, and sat on his creaky, florally bed while the laptop booted up. It was difficult to type with one arm, but he managed.
He trawled through pages and pages of information, looking for any clues on how to break the three year cycle. Sam didn't really expect to find anything, considering the town was a pretty much just a wide spot in the road. Besides, it was only three victims every three years. It might be a different story if it had been twenty victims every year, or similarly high numbers. Finally, he found a link to a book of local legends from the 1920's, describing the pattern.
Local legend describes a curse laid upon the town by a kingdom of faeries, angry that their forest was being desecrated by humans. Supposedly, the faeries swore that they would steal three victims every third year, in memory of the three faerie children accidentally killed by the first settlers while the Seelie Bridge was being constructed. They cursed the bridge, turning it into a bridge to Faerieland. Over time, their grasp on the land has faltered, and their only way to our world is via the bridge.
Sam looked up from the screen, intending to wake Dean up to tell him the new information. Dean was already awake, hair tousled wildly as he frowned at Sam from the midst of a nest of tangled blankets.
"You were so weird last night" his brother commented.
"What? Never mind, I found out how we can stop the pattern. They're tied to the bridge. All we have to do is destroy it"
Dean made a face. "Can't be. It's never that easy Sammy. We're gonna probably have to fly to the South Pacific and pick a special type of coconut that only grows at the top of a mountain and then collect the oil and use it to burn the bridge while reciting Puck's soliloquy'
Sam stared at the elder Winchester, "Dude, where do you come up with this stuff? And by the way, why the hell are we staying in a place that looks like Umbridge's office?"
Dean rolled out of bed with a thump. "My god, you're a geek"
After showering remaining elk residue off, and finding less dubious clothes, Sam and Dean were ready to head back out to the woods with a gallon of kerosene and a book of matches.
They were just leaving, when Miss Maybelle hauled herself up the steep flight of stairs, and foisted a plate of strawberry scones upon them.
Dean grinned and shoved one in his mouth. Sam made a bitch-face at his brother's antics.
"Bye-bye boys!" Maybelle squeaked, waving her lace apron.
Dean's glee at the sight of food had turned to horror once he started to chew the scone. It was dry as the desert, and chewy as a tire, plus it was inedible with salt. He wondered if they could use them as some sort of weapon against demons.
"Didn't enjoy your breakfast?" Sam asked innocently as Dean spat the scone into a convenient vase of dried roses.
"Screw scones" he said grimly, heading for the door, "I need real food"
To Dean's dismay, all the cafes or restaurants in town were full of hippie-vegan-gluten free crap. Sam of course, was delighted, and immediately gobbled up all the fruit and muesli he could find.
It was almost nine am before they found their way back to the woods. Tomorrow, the next victim was due to go missing. They needed to burn that bridge pronto. It had rained in the night, and all the leaves glistened with rain drops that splintered the light into fragments. The ground was spongy beneath their feet, and the whole forest seemed washed clean.
Sam kept a wary eye out for elks, clutching his arm to his chest protectively. Luckily it had been just a hair line fracture. He was keen to avoid any more run-ins with the large elk, however.
Dean felt like he was being watched, and glared at an inquisitive robin that flew down to perch on a branch in front of him. He threw a rock at the bird, and it flew off with an indignant sounding cry.
"Yeah, you better fly, Tweety!" he shouted.
Sam watched him. "Dude, what was that about?"
"We don't know what these faeries are controlling! I mean, that elk was clearly not thinking for itself. The wild life could all be spies"
"Right. That robin was about to report back to its faerie masters. You're paranoid"
"In this line of work, it pays to be paranoid"
They continued on towards the camp, Dean glaring ferociously at several unfortunate birds and squirrels. Smoke was drifting through the trees when they came across the camp. It carried the scent of frying meat, and Dean started sniffing the air immediately, ploughing through the trees in the direction of the food.
Sam sighed, and followed his brother. "Dean" he called, thinking of something.
"Yeah?"
"I just realized- if we burn the bridge, how're we gonna get Holly Fowl back? We can't just abandon her in Faerieland"
Dean turned towards him, face set. Sam realized with a chill that Dean had already weighed the options and given Holly up for dead.
"Sam, our job is to save as many people as we can. I wish to God we could get her back, but we can't. Our priority's gotta be saving future victims"
Sam nodded weakly, ducking his head so Dean couldn't see his shocked face. Dean had never been good at the whole greater good thing. This wasn't like him.
Ever since Dean had come back from Purgatory, he had been more closed, somehow. He had grown close to Cas and that vampire, Benny, in a friendship that shut Sam out. He felt guilty, begrudging his brother those friends when he was fighting for his life every day. He said he forgave Sam for not searching for him, but Sam could tell he was holding back his bitterness.
Dean crashed through the underbrush, alerting the whole camp to his presence. When he finally broke through into the clearing, all the LARPers were staring at the tall, modernly dressed man that had blundered into their midst. Charlie hastily sent the onlookers scurrying, and turned to the boys.
A purple bruise bloomed high on her cheek, and she had a split lip. Dean could tell in the tender way that she held herself that she was nursing bruised ribs and various other aches and pains.
"That elk did a number on you, huh?"
She glared at him for a moment, before noticing Sam's sling.
"Did you break your arm?" she asked anxiously.
"Just a hairline fracture. No biggie"
Charlie nodded, and started back towards her tent, beckoning to the boys to follow her.
She had a plateful of sausages and eggs, and Dean eyed it longingly. All he had had for breakfast was that ghastly scone, and he wasn't looking forward to the prospect of hunting down faeries on an empty stomach.
"Have you eaten yet?" Charlie asked.
"Yes" Sam said, just as Dean replied in the negative.
"Well, nothing wrong with second breakfasts. According to the hobbits, anyways, it's practically mandatory. I'll go see if I can find some more food"
She ducked out of the tent. Dean grinned at his brother. "God bless the nerds"
After Dean had wolfed down several plates of donated food, he felt ready to burn that damn bridge and trap those faerie bastards in their own dimension.
"So!" said Charlie brightly, "got any fancy faerie repelling guns for me?"
Sam handed her a bar of wrought iron that tapered to a sharp point. It was about three feet long, and rough to the touch.
Charlie viewed it with a look of disappointment.
"Great" she said, without enthusiasm, "an iron cudgel"
"Faeries despise iron" Dean told her, "it might not kill them, but it'll sure piss them off. Just aim for the kneecaps, you'll be fine"
She hefted the weight in her palm and smiled. "Let's go gank some faeries"
Ok, so i know the faeries are not particularly canon, but it just worked better for the story to have it be a curse on the town instead of someone summoning them. Hope you enjoyed the chaper, please review!