The kitchen was filled with the odd sweet burning scent of more posies, a thin film of smoke making the room feel as if it was shimmering somehow. Breathing in the strong smell, Sam could feel his strength returning and his trembling began to fade.
Sat at the kitchen table, he looked on in concern as Emma redressed Dean's bleeding bullet wound. His gaze moving from the ragged edges of the exit wound to the tight concentration on his brother's face, his heart was heavy within him and he sighed a weary moan.
Dean was sorting through the weapons; loading fresh salt rounds into a couple of old sawn-offs and exchanging rounds in the handguns for pure iron. He flinched occasionally as his leg was washed and wrapped but was apparently all but oblivious to Emma's ministration, his mind focused on the imminent search for Morgan.
"Can we lure them out, somehow?" Bobby wondered aloud, examining the open sections of the Colt and giving the sacred weapon a thorough clean.
"The legends say they only seek out children." Emma replied distractedly, bandaging Dean's thigh and glancing in concern at Sam. "Unless threatened, I guess."
"Oh, I plan to be a threat alright." Dean grated, setting down his weapons and resting back against the chair. He frowned down at Emma and watched her tie off the bandage. "You done?"
Emma nodded quietly and began to move away.
"Dean," Sam ventured carefully, "You're in no condition to - " He was greeted with a sudden angry glare from his brother and he shook his head in worried disagreement. "No, Dean. You can't - "
Dean sighed loudly and looked away, turning his attention back to Emma. "So how do we kill them?"
Emma glanced worriedly between the brothers and packed away her medical supplies. Screwing the lid securely back on her jar of salve, she took a deep breath and got to her feet.
"Can we …? I mean Morgan is in danger." Bobby offered suddenly, frowning at Emma and aware of the frightened glance Lena shot at him from the corner of the room.
Lena was leaning forward against the sink, peering through the partially open blinds into the still dark morning and fighting back fresh tears. She stepped back from the window and hugged her arms around her chest, shuddering slightly. "Surely they can't get that far. I mean, they might be spirits but she's a living person and - " She swallowed back the sob that caught in her throat and closed her eyes. "She can't move that fast."
"Right." Dean nodded firmly, pushing himself up to stand on his good leg and using the chair and table as obvious support.
"Dean." Sam protested.
Dean spun towards Sam and glared down at him. "It's a child, Sam."
Emma watched the stand off between the brothers and decided not to interfere. She gave Bobby a slight nod and he stood quickly to follow her from the kitchen.
They hurried into the hall and Emma led him to a small study beside the kitchen. More books and ornaments filled the small room and Bobby paused at the door, watching in interest as Emma searched amid the shelves.
"Here." Emma took down a small, worn notebook and blew the dust from the top of the yellowed pages. Opening the book, she was careful not to let any of the pages fall from the binding that seemed to have worn out many years before.
Bobby peered at the book in interest and stepped a little closer. "Is that …?"
Emma glanced up at him and gave a small smile. "My father's." She nodded, looking back at the notebook and turning through the aged pages carefully. "I'm sure he … here." Her smile grew and she strode across the distance between them, offering the book out towards him.
Bobby took the notebook from her with extreme care, hardly daring to breathe as he gazed in wonder at the faded ink handwriting. "Acheri." He read aloud, cradling the book as though it might scatter into ashes at any moment. "Native American belief states that they may be the ghosts of children who died of disease." He raised his eyebrows in interest and gingerly turned the page, "They come down into the villages and spread disease. Hearing their singing is said to be a bad omen."
Emma gave a gentle scoff and nodded in agreement. "No kidding."
"Villagers believed that wearing red would protect the children." Bobby continued excitedly, glancing up at Emma. "They would tie red string around their children's wrists or sew red weave into their clothes."
Smiling in delight, Emma hurried past Bobby into the hall and sighed in relief. "So we need a ton of red wool or material." She concluded, hurrying towards the stairs. "Hell, anything red might work."
Bobby carefully set the notebook down on the small desk beside him and followed after her. Moving past the kitchen and aware of the heavy silence gathered there, he caught Dean's attention and watched him limp slowly towards the door.
"Need help?" Dean offered, intrigued by the fresh smile on the older man's face.
Nodding quickly, Bobby took a deep breath. "Think you can head out into the garage and see if there's any paint or spray cans or anything red."
"Red?" Dean frowned.
"No time to explain." Bobby shrugged, "Get Sam to help you."
"Okay." Dean turned back into the kitchen and relayed the request, unable to explain the purpose of what they needed to find.
Lena watched in intrigue as the brothers hurried from the kitchen, pausing briefly at the open door and then hurrying into the darkness. Aware of noise in the bedrooms above her, she moved to the kitchen table and slowly sat down.
Resting her elbows on the tabletop and sighing loudly, Lena let her folded arms slide out in front of her and sank forwards. Resting her cheek on the table, she closed her eyes and could feel her tiredness pressing down on her.
Everything ached. What with now being awake for more than 36 hours, the panic of crashing her jeep, running through the snow and desperately worrying about her daughter, she was spent. She yawned loudly and allowed herself a much needed moment to be still.
The pain in her back seemed nothing more than the ache that had lingered for a few weeks now, a minor inconvenience that she had grown used to. But as it worsened, Lena opened her eyes and frowned in concern. Slowly pushing herself upright, she looked down at her swollen belly and felt the gentle stirring of the baby within. Sliding one hand against her abdomen, she could feel how tense it had become and was aware of her pulse starting to race.
Lena gently massaged the tight skin and could feel the pain in her back spreading around her hips. "Oh god no …" The discomfort then began to fade and her abdomen slowly relaxed. Remembering back to carrying Morgan and feeling the practice contractions of late pregnancy, Lena hoped that was all this was. It could even be a warning that she needed to rest, that she had been on her feet for too long and she nodded to herself in reassurance.
Standing slowly to move to the comfort of the lounge, she then gasped as something inside her seemed to pop and she sat back down quickly. The warm, damp feeling between her legs then made her grimace in disgust and she groaned as she looked down. And then suddenly she knew what had happened. Hardly daring to breathe, she watched the wet patch spreading down her thighs and saw the water that pooled on the chair.
ooooo
The garage was all but empty. Gardening tools and a few boxes of various sizes lined the shelves at the far end but a large mini-van filled most of the small space and Sam edged along towards the end of the garage.
"Anything?" Dean urged, leaning against the garage wall and frowning impatiently.
"Paint." Sam replied with excitement, leaning around the front fender of the van and grabbing the large can. He balanced the paint on top of the hood and nodded slowly. "Cream." He continued, "But I'm sure Em has something we can dye it with."
"Depending whether she wants red or a light pink." Dean shrugged, "Nothing else?"
Sam peered around the far end of the garage and shook his head.
"Oh, this is insane." Dean sighed, "We should be out there looking for her!" He limped from the garage and looked out along the garden towards the trees that rose up into the hills above the town.
"Dean?"
Turning, Dean saw Sam exiting the garage and watching him in obvious concern. With a quiet nod, he headed back towards the house and hobbled back inside the kitchen. Pausing to allow his brother to slip inside, he then closed the door and limped towards the table.
"Hey." Sam headed round to Lena and placed the paint on the table before crouching down beside her. "You okay?"
"No." Lena replied in a whisper, avoiding his gaze.
"We'll get her back, Lena." Sam offered quietly, placing his hand on her arm.
Nodding quietly, Lena sniffed back tears and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper.
Sam could hear thumping and rusting from the upper rooms above them and frowned in interest as he stood back up. "I'll go see what the olds are up to."
Lena watched him hurry from the lounge and disappear from view. Another wave of pain then began to build in her lower back and she held her breath as it washed around her sides and across her tight belly. Dipping her head and clenching her fists beneath the table, the room seemed to dance around her as the pain grew and her heart raced.
"Hey. You okay?"
Unable to answer aloud, Lena managed a small nod. The pain began to recede and she carefully exhaled, her hands shaking as she tried to relax. Aware of movement beside her, she then heard the creak of wood scraping against wood as a chair was moved and she sensed Dean perching close by.
"It's been a long night."
Giving another nod, Lena chanced lifting her head and turning towards his gentle voice. He was leaning one arm on the table, his head resting to the side as he watched her in concern. His mouth crooked in a small smile as she looked up at him but his flushed face held tight worry as he regarded her. "You don't look so good." He offered carefully.
Lena scoffed a short laugh and suddenly smiled. "Look who's talking!"
"What this?" Dean sat up straight and nodded towards his bandaged thigh. "Nah, it's not that bad. Believe me, I've had worse."
"Yeah?"
"Sure!" Dean's eyes sparkled as he grinned and gave an easy shrug. "I mean, when you piss off evil for a living, you gotta expect some comeback."
Lena smiled and shook her head slowly. "Spoken like the macho 70s icon that you are."
"Hey?" Dean frowned.
"Oh, come on." Lena chuckled, suddenly animated at the notion. "Your car, your clothes, your bravado. You're in the wrong era, Starsky."
"What?" Dean gasped in mock horror, sitting up straight to puff out his chest and his eyes smiling in delight. "You seriously comparing my baby to that ketchup red Turino piece of shit? You're walking a thin line, lady!"
"See!" Sniggering in amusement, Lena shook her head again and sat back against her chair with a loud sigh. "You need a lesson in modern living, Captain Retro."
His grin widening merrily, Dean opened his mouth to offer a smart comeback and then saw her dip her head and suddenly focus her attention elsewhere. "Hey …" Dean leaned closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, groaning in concern as he felt her trembling. "Lena? Lena, what's wrong?"
Instinctively grabbing his hand tightly, Lena moaned quietly and hugged her free arm around her belly. Her breath hitching as the pain increased, she sank towards him and was grateful for his quick embrace.
Holding Lena carefully against him and feeling her tensing and then relaxing slowly, he could see her hand slowly stroking her abdomen and suddenly guessed what was happening. "Emma!" He called in panic, rocking Lena gently and aware of her now softly crying. "Emma! Get down here!"
- tbc -