The next day they decided to split up. Dean was on witness duty – the victim's boyfriend, Neil Delacroix, was suffering from shock and was currently at home with his parents in the suburbs – and Sam headed out of town to go look at the location where the body had been found. Since Dean had taken the car, Sam had to hop a bus up towards Alton, about half an hour north of the city.
It was raining, and he stared dully out the window, trying to think about inconsequential things. Anything would be better than admitting to himself that an archangel had kissed him and given him flowers in one day. Thanks to research from previous cases, Sam knew the significance of red roses. A single red rose means love and passion. No two ways about it. Sam dimly hoped that Gabriel maybe didn't know about "the language of flowers", but he wasn't really fooling himself. He'd have to do something about this sooner or later. The problem was, he had no idea what "this" even was.
The bus had just crossed the river and turned north when Sam's mouth dropped open. Up on a rock face alongside the highway, there was a huge painting of some fantastical creature with a horrid bearded face, antlers, and giant flag-like wings. He glanced quickly around at the other passengers to see if they had noticed it too. A woman two seats in front of him was aiming a camera out the window, and the man sitting next to her pointed to something in a guidebook. "That's it, all right. Funny-looking thing, eh?" Sam returned his stunned gaze to the monstrous image, but it was already shrinking in the distance as the bus hurtled along the highway.
Sam stood up, holding on to the seats to keep from losing his balance, and moved forward until he reached the couple with the guidebook. "Excuse me? Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing what you just said. Do you know what that thing up there was?"
The man glanced up, looking a bit displeased at Sam's unwanted interruption, but upon hearing the question, he nodded. "Yes, that's the Piasa Bird."
"PIE-a-saw." The woman corrected his pronunciation, tapping the page. "It's a Native word. From the Illini tribe, it says here––"
"May I see that for a minute?" Without waiting for a response, Sam reached out and took the guidebook as politely as possible, with hands that were trembling with excitement.
The man sounded more amused than irritated now. "Yeah, it's a local legend. Some kind of huge monster bird that killed people. Don't know why they decided to paint a big picture of it on the rocks there. Spooky-looking thing, if you ask me."
Sam's eyes quickly scanned the page. There was too much to read now, but he took note of the correct spelling of the Piasa Bird's name and handed back the guidebook with a brief but heartfelt thanks. Stumbling back to his seat as the bus rounded another curve, Sam felt his mind racing. The monster bird had indeed been ugly, with gigantic talons and a creepily human-like face. Why had someone painted it on the rocks? How long had the painting been there? His fingers itched to get hold of his computer and start researching.
The scene of the tragedy didn't offer much. Hannah McMurtry and her boyfriend had been hiking out from a camping site, but the tree where her body had been found wasn't far. Sam located it with no trouble. There was still police tape around the site, but not a soul around, so he ducked under the taped-off area and approached the base of the tree. It was a tall maple, and you couldn't miss what had happened: the trunk and surrounding earth was drenched with blood that had leaked down from the higher branches. With a gulp, Sam sent his eyes upward, following the blood stains, and immediately saw where the body must have been found. A large branch about halfway up the tree was completely red with blood, and a few shreds of unidentifiable material were stuck in the bark. Sam fervently hoped it was bits of the victim's clothing, and not of Hannah herself.
***
When Sam got back to the motel in St. Louis, Dean was still out, much to his displeasure. Sam couldn't wait to tell his brother about the painting of the Piasa Bird. Barely pausing to dump his coat on the bed, he made a beeline for the laptop. And then stopped. A small round orange object was sitting on the closed lid of his computer. Looking closer, he saw that it was a foil-wrapped ball with a sticker on it proclaiming "Whack and Unwrap!" Sam snorted. "Yeah, right," he muttered to himself. "That's not at all suspicious."
"It's a shame how paranoid your young mind has become," tut-tutted someone from behind him.
Sam turned around, already rolling his eyes. "Gabriel. Why am I not surprised?"
"Well, you seem confounded enough by my little gift," the angel said in a hurt tone, indicating the mysterious object. "I thought I'd better pop up to defend its good name before you called in the bomb squad."
"Yeah, what is it?"
"Whack and unwrap!" Gabriel replied cheerfully, and proceeded to demonstrate by grabbing it and whacking it hard against the table.
Sam warily took the proffered object and peeled off the sticker, starting to unwrap the foil. Inside he discovered a pure milk chocolate sphere. It fell obligingly apart into pre-divided slices, and Sam couldn't hold back a tiny smile. "You got me a chocolate orange."
"Told you they were delicious. Try it." Sam put a slice in his mouth and began to chew. "Good, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is," he admitted, and swallowed. "Listen, Gabriel, um... why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" The archangel's eyebrows slid up his forehead in such a perfect parody of innocence that it wouldn't have convinced anyone.
"You know what I mean. Chocolate, and... that rose yesterday, and..." Sam's voice trailed off.
"What, I can't give my favorite vessel of Satan a few tokens of my appreciation?"
"It's just a little... I don't know." Sam had no idea why he'd started this conversation in the first place. Gabriel tipped his head slowly to one side in a way that reminded Sam of Castiel. He found himself foolishly wondering if that was a thing all angels did, or if the archangel was purposely making a subtle reference that Sam wasn't clever enough to get.
Before he could figure it out, Gabriel had swiped a slice of the chocolate orange for himself and was sitting on the bed. "So, did you take time out to admire some art today?"
"That––the Piasa Bird! That was you!"
"Excuse me!" Gabriel sounded offended. "I'm quite a bit more attractive than that creature."
"No, what––I mean, yeah but––that's not what I meant! You knew about it! Why couldn't you have just told us, instead of being all cryptic?" Sam glared at the archangel, and wondered why the only response he was getting was a slow, delighted smile. "Fine, whatever. I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more from you." He sat down and opened the laptop. "Don't suppose you've got another clue for us, while you're here?" he added, and upon getting no answer, glanced over his shoulder. The room was empty. Of course.
***
When Dean finally got back, it was almost seven, and he was in a foul mood. "What a crappy day. It took me forever to find that Delacroix kid and then he refused to talk. I practically had to go Michael Madsen on his ass, and still I got bupkis! Says he lost sight of her for a minute, and then poof! Gone." He yanked his FBI tie from around his neck and chucked it in the direction of the bed. "Please tell me you got something."
Unable to conceal his excitement, Sam turned his laptop so it was facing Dean. "I sure did. Check it out. On the bus ride up there I caught sight of this thing." He had found a pretty good photograph of the monster-bird painting. "Apparently it's a big part of local lore. It's called the Piasa Bird."
"Say what about pie?" Dean came closer to the computer and stared at the picture. "You're telling me that thing is supposed to exist? I've never seen anything like it. What makes you so sure?"
"Well, first of all, look at its feet."
Dean looked closer, and gave a low whistle. "Those are some nasty claws, man."
"Talons."
"What?"
"They're called––never mind. The point is, that could be what ripped Hannah to pieces. And also, remember what Gabriel said this morning? He said to keep an eye out for pictures, and here's a huge painting of a monster right on these rocks." Sam turned the computer back around, and switched tabs until he found the one he was looking for. "Here, listen to this: Piasa means 'bird that devours men'. According to native legend, it dates from the time of the Pliocene era."
Dean sat down on the bed and began removing his shoes. "So, what, it's like a dinosaur or something?"
"No, the dinosaurs lived longer ago than that. Dean, listen: 'The Piasa was a huge flying monster with the body of a horse, the wings of a bird, the antlers of a deer, and the face of a human. It terrorized the Illini tribe of Chief Ouatoga by regularly swooping down and carrying away members of the tribe. Every day they would hear the monster's blood-curdling screams from its cave on the mountain. Numerous attack parties were sent to kill the monster but all failed, because its body was covered with metal scales that no weapon could penetrate. The wise Chief Ouatoga prayed to the Great Spirit and saw in a dream that the monster had only one point of weakness: there were no scales under its wings. The Great Spirit told Chief Ouatoga to gather twenty of his finest warriors and arm them with poisoned arrows, and to offer himself as bait to the monster to coax it into the open. When the Piasa swept down to take him, all the warriors fired as one, and the monster fell dead."
Dean was frowning. "All right. So if Great Chief what's-his-name killed it way back then, what makes you think this is it again, risen from the dead?"
"Well, I mean, like I said, Gabriel––"
"Yeah, you already mentioned Gabriel. I don't know why you're so hell-bent on trusting the little dude. Sure, this bird thing has got creepy big––talons or whatever, but there's nothing connecting it to the case. There are no records of any other killings like this one in the area. And another thing, if it's supposed to live in a cave in the mountains, why did it leave the girl in a tree?"
Sam sighed in frustration. "I don't know. But you gotta admit, it can't just be a coincidence. It's got sharp talons, the girl was torn up; it flies, she was found in a tree; and the legend of the beast originates from the exact town where she vanished. She was killed literally just around the corner from the painting on the rocks."
Dean shrugged out of his suit jacket. "Yeah, all right. So where do we start? Who can we ask about a Native American legend of a flying monster that was supposed to have been killed hundreds of years ago?"
"I'm heading back up to Alton tomorrow," Sam replied, closing the laptop. "I want to know why they chose that particular spot to put up a painting of the thing. If lore tells us it had a cave in the mountains, maybe the painting is located near the cave."
"Whoa, whoa, dude, slow down!" Dean protested. "You can't just go waltzing into its cave! This thing's covered with metal armor and eats humans. We have no idea how to kill it. Unless you've got a secret army of Indian warriors with poisoned arrows that you've been hiding from me."
Sam hated to admit it, but Dean was right. He didn't really have a plan. He had been excited that Gabriel's mysterious comment about "looking at pictures" had panned out so quickly, and now he wanted to keep going on the case and maintain that momentum. Also – although considering Dean's attitude towards Gabriel, he wasn't planning to mention this aloud – Sam was hoping that the archangel might pop in to give them another tip, now that he'd figured out the first clue.
When Dean announced that he felt he deserved a hot bath after his afternoon of wrangling with the unhelpful Neil Delacroix, Sam couldn't resist taking advantage of his momentary solitude in the hotel room. Dean was crooning Lynyrd Skynyrd in the bathroom, with the hot water running in the background, so he wasn't likely to overhear anything.
Having changed into his night clothes, Sam sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate over Dean's warbling. "Gabriel, uh..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Gabriel, I looked into the whole Piasa Bird thing, and, and I really think we're onto something... and I want to say thanks for this morning, you know, telling us to look at art and all that. So, um... if you have any other... ideas or whatever, I'd love to hear them. Amen." He waited for a few seconds, then cracked open an eye. Nothing. He felt stupid. Not sure why he was doing it, he pressed both eyes shut again with determination and said aloud "Aren't angels supposed to come when you pray to them?"
This time, he opened his eyes to see a single feather floating down towards the floor. On instinct, he looked up. Nothing there but the ceiling. He reached out and tried to grab the feather, but it eluded his grasp twice before he snatched it up, a few inches from the floor. It was a dark rusty gold, soft and curled – a down feather, not a flight feather. Sam sighed and lay back on the bed. He turned the feather in his fingers a few times, and then tucked it under his pillow. Maybe Gabriel would drop by in the morning.
***