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Chapter name borrowed from LYNX.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- DOLLS OF MANY CLIMES
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Ellen," Sam hung up the phone and sighed.
I smiled at him sympathetically.
"What'd she have to say?" Dean entered the room, handing us our coffees.
I took mine gratefully.
"Oh, she's got nothing," Sam frowned.
"We've been checking every database I can think of- federal, state and local. No one's heard anything about Ava…. she just….. into thin air, you know?"
"Huh."
Sam looked over at him.
"What about you?"
"No, same as before," Dean shook his head. "Sorry, man."
"Um," I spoke up nervously, warily watching Dean's reaction.
"What?" He snapped.
"Castiel has a-"
I'd hardly said his name before he appeared himself.
"Case for you," Castiel finished.
"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut," He continued.
"Two freak accidents in the past three weeks."
"Yeah?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we be focusing on Ava?"
Castiel curled his lip ever so slightly.
His inability to locate Ava Wilson perturbed him greatly.
I decided to interrupt.
"It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Not exactly normal, right?"
Dean didn't seem convinced, but Sam decided for him.
"We'll take it."
~Supernatural~
I jerked awake as the opening riff of 'Back In Black' blasted from the Impala's speakers.
Sam shot Dean a dirty look, but he simply smirked.
Castiel's expression was somewhere between resignation and ambivalence, and I realized my head was on his shoulder again.
I shifted away at once, turning red.
The roads were wet, even though it wasn't raining, and the air was misty as we parked the Impala in front of the inn.
Dean seemed pleased.
"Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this."
"Like what?" Sam asked.
"Old school haunted houses, you know?" Dean grinned.
"Fog, and secret passageways, sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Mmm. Daphne. Love her."
Castiel's face held something close to disgust as he glanced at Dean.
My lips twitched.
Sam snorted and muttered something that I didn't catch, but Dean definitely did.
His eyes flew open indignantly.
"Bite me, Sam. You're the one who has a crush on that Velma chick."
Sam's ears turned pink.
Evidently tired of their bantering, Castiel went up the steps, inspecting an urn on the side of the porch.
"It's not haunted."
"What do you mean?"
We followed him up the steps.
"See this pattern."
Castiel tapped a five-point symbol engraved in the urn.
"It's a quincunx, a five-spot."
"Five spot," Dean nodded.
"It's used for hoodoo spellwork," Castiel confirmed.
"Right, yeah," Dean forgot to sound rude at that point.
"Fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies."
"Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed," Sam objected.
"Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, whitemeat for hoodoo?"
"Maybe."
…
We looked at the quiet interior, and the inn's owner entered briskly.
"May I help you?"
"Hi, yeah," Dean smiled. "I'd like two rooms for a couple of nights."
As Sam moved in, a small girl darted in front of his legs.
"Hey!" The woman exclaimed, shooing the child away.
"Sorry about that."
"No problem."
"Well, congratulations," She smiled brightly. "You could be some of our final guests!"
"Well." Dean swallowed. "Sounds vaguely ominous."
"No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month."
She seemed to appraise us carefully.
"Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?"
Dean decided to go with it.
"How'd you know?"
"Oh," She waved a hand. "You just look the type."
Dean looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"So, uh," She waggled a hand at Sam and Dean.
"King-sized bed for you, and a single for your kid?"
The hall was filled with our spluttering.
"What?" Sam squawked. "No, uh, no, we're brothers, Odette's our sister."
"Oh."
She blinked rapidly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
There might have been something akin to amusement in Castiel's gulf-blue eyes as he watched us silently.
"What'd you mean that we look the type?" Dean crossed his arms.
"You know, speaking of antiques," Sam interrupted, "You have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?"
"Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever," She handed Dean the keys.
"Here you go, Mr. Mahagov."
"Thanks."
The woman rang the bell.
"You'll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show them to their rooms?"
We turned to see an old, balding man in a black blazer shuffling up behind us.
"Let me guess. Antiquers?"
Sherwin dragged Dean's clunking duffle bag up the stairs as we followed.
"I could give you a hand," Dean offered.
"I got it."
"Okay," Dean said dubiously.
"So the hotel's closing up, huh?" Sam waited expectantly.
"Yep," Sherwin nodded.
"Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame."
"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked casually.
"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace," He sighed gustily.
"Two different vice presidents laid their heads in our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it. Here's your room."
Sherwin slipped the key in the lock and opened the door, handing it to Sam as he brushed past.
Dean turned to shut the door to find Sherwin standing there, hand extended expectantly,
"You're not gonna cheap on me, are you, boy?"
Dean looked annoyed as he pulled out his wallet.
…
We sat, sifting through papers while Dean paced impatiently.
Sam chuckled as Dean approached an antique wedding dress splayed out on the wall like a ghost.
"What the-"
"What?"
"That's normal," Dean rolled his eyes.
"Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long."
"All right." Sam held up the research.
"Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel; and victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."
"Well, there's a connection," Dean pointed out.
"They were both tied up in shutting the place down."
"Yeah," Sam chewed his lip.
"Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back."
"Who do you think our witch doctor is?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.
"That Susan lady?"
"I don't think so," I said cautiously. "She's the one selling it."
"So what then, Sherwin?"
"I don't know," Sam answered Dean tetchily.
"Of course," Dean gritted his teeth.
"The most troubling question is why do these people assume we're gay?"'
"Well, you are kinda butch," Sam said thoughtfully.
"Probably think you're overcompensating."
I couldn't help my laughter, but I subsided quickly under Dean's glare.
~Supernatural~
I pouted indignantly, staring at the dingy hotel wall.
"You're not ready yet," Castiel appeared behind me with the sound of rustling feathers.
"I know."
It didn't help much.
He sat next to me.
"Do you want to be?"
I found myself tongue-tied under his intense scrutiny.
"Would you understand if I said yes and no at the same time?"
His eyes seemed slightly warmer.
"I would, Odette."
Castiel paused.
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
I looked up, surprised.
Castiel had never before volunteered something like that.
"What?"
"You. All of you. Why do you….. give each other monikers? Are your real names not good enough?"
I tried my best not to laugh, remembering that Castiel had no knowledge of human customs.
I considered his question seriously.
"I guess it's a sign of affection, Castiel. It means you're important to the person who gave you the name. That you belong. "
I hesitated.
"It shows you care."
…
"So, we got some info," Dean crashed on top of the bed.
"We got dolls, hoodoo and a mysterious shut-in grandma."
I looked from Sam to Dean.
"Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo, like curses and binding spells," Sam offered.
"Yeah, maybe we found our witch doctor," Dean got off the bed.
"All right, I'll see what I can go dig up on Granny, you go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing."
"Right."
"Ask Angel Boy for help," Dean swung the door shut, leaving us blinking after him in shock.
~Supernatural~
"Sam! Enough!" I tugged at the bottle of beer in his hands. "Stop!"
"Don't wanna," Sam muttered sulkily, stubbornly hanging on.
"Sam." I pulled harder. "Drop it."
I applied greater force, and Sam grinned mischievously, shrugging.
"Okay."
He let go suddenly, and I went flying to the floor, landing in front of the door.
"There's been another-"
Dean looked down.
"What are you doing on the floor, kid?"
"Nothing," I scrambled to my feet, throwing Sam a dirty look.
He smirked.
"Anyway, some guy just hung himself in his room," Dean sat down heavily.
"We saw," Sam said darkly.
I sighed.
That was around the time he'd started drinking.
"We've gotta figure this out, and fast," Dean frowned.
"What'd you find out about Granny?"
"You're bossy," Sam pushed out his lip.
Dean looked around in surprise, and I suppressed a groan.
"What?"
"You're bossy." Sam repeated. "And short."
He laughed sloppily.
Dean's eyebrow climbed upwards.
"Are you drunk?"
"Yeah. So?" Sam shook his head. "Stupid."
Dean glanced at the empty bottles on the table.
He rounded on me.
I held up my hands.
"I tried to stop him. That's why I was on the floor. I had to wrestle the bottle away from him."
Dean's lips twitched.
"And how does a fourteen year old girl wrestle a bottle away from Gigantor?"
I looked away.
"I didn't," I mumbled. "He let go."
"And I'm fifteen now," I added.
Dean laughed, shaking his head at me. "Whatever, kid."
He turned his gaze on Sam.
"Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case."
Sam's eyes were shiny.
Too shiny.
"That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him."
"What are you talking about?" Dean demanded.
"You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything."
Sam shifted his eyes to Dean.
"That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too."
Dean moved forward.
"Yeah, well, you can't save everyone, even you said that."
Sam slammed a hand down on the table.
"No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!"
I looked at Sam anxiously.
He was starting to worry me.
"Change what?" Dean was getting testy, now.
Sam leaned forward, eyes glinting.
"My destiny, Dean!"
"All right," Dean stood up. "Time for bed. Come on, Samsquatch."
Between us, we managed to haul him up by his shoulders, dropping him down on the bed.
Sam looked up at him.
"I need you to watch out for me."
Dean glanced at him, puzzled.
"Yeah, I always do, Sam."
"No!" Sam said wildly.
"No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not…."
He waited a beat.
"You have to kill me."
Dean was dismissive.
"Sam."
Sam shoved Dean to face him.
"Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to."
"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass."
Sam frowned in confusion.
"He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids"
"No." Sam was quiet.
"He was right to say it. Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"
"Yea, well, I'm not dying, okay?" Dean sighed.
"And neither are you. Come on, Sam."
He tried to push him back down, but Sam remained seated.
"No, please! Dean, Odette," I jerked as he looked at me.
"You're the only ones who can do it. Promise me."
I froze.
How could I agree?
"Please," Sam looked frantically from the both of us. "Promise me."
Dean hung his head.
"I promise."
Sam turned to me.
My lips trembled as I forced out the words.
"I promise, Sam."
"Thanks," Sam clutched my hand for a moment.
He reached up and grabbed Dean's face with both his hands.
"Thank you."
"All right," Dean batted his hands away. "Come on."
He pushed him down on the bed.
Sam fell back, turning over on his stomach to plant his face on the pillow.
I met Dean's gaze.
What had we just done?