Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the CW. I do own my plot, dialogue, adventure, and my original characters.

So I feel I owe big BIG apologies. I didn't lose interest or my way, or become bored with this story. My hardcore winter blues coincided with some near manic spring fever. I have been productive but not in fanfic. I have kicked ass editing part of my novel. I hosted a writing event at home. I cleaned. I read. I made things. I de-stressed. I recharged. Which I greatly needed. Thanks for bearing with me.

Also, you can actually get updates on how my writing is going and get encouragement on your own writing by following me on tumblr. My blog is MisAdventures in Writing. My name is wifey-mcwiferson. (there is a dash) I'm new at Tumblr…..so come find me! I want to know my readers and fellow writer, and that is as close as it gets!

Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, and especially for those of you who gave into some reader polling. Your comments from reviews and polling are shaping the story!

Sam woke to the sound of someone flipping pages, a slow and methodical sound that slowly pulled him from sleep. He spotted Bobby and Alice sitting around the desk, Bobby with his hat pulled low and a tall stack of books on either side of him. Alice sat in a chair, her boots on the edge of Bobby's desk, the chair tipped precariously on its back legs. She didn't look up at him, her eyes flitting over the antiquated text with ease. From his place on the couch, Sam didn't miss the beginnings of sunrise in the windows or the empty glasses that sat between Bobby and Alice, the smell of stale whiskey in the air. It had been a long night for everyone.

Sam sat up slowly, swinging his feet onto the floor with a deep sigh. He ran a tired hand through his hair before pulling himself to his feet. "Morning."

"Mornin' Sam," Bobby said without looking away from the opened book on his desk. "Coffee's on the stove, breakfast is in the oven."

"I'll go check on Dean first," Sam muttered as he headed across the room.

"Don't bother," Alice said as with a yawn. "I was just down there a few minutes ago. He's sound asleep."

Sam nodded slowly before heading upstairs for a shower. He didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but it certainly hadn't been on the couch. The last thing he remembered was staring at a written page, the words blurring as he tried to stay awake. After a quick shower he headed down to check on Dean, determined to lay eyes on his brother. He eased the door open, frowning at the squeak that cut through the air.

Dean lay on the cot farthest from the door, his face toward him. Sam frowned when Dean didn't move at the sound of the noisy door. There was a time when any noise had made the eldest Winchester bolt out of bed, knife in hand, alert and ready to fight. Today was not that day.

Sam sat on the cot across from him and surveyed Dean. Exhaustion still lined his face, bruises standing out on his pale skin. He was cool to the touch; Sam letting out a sigh of relief once he laid a hand on Dean's forehead. It had taken longer than anyone had wagered, but the fever was finally gone. The deep set frown on Dean's face and the low murmuring that slipped through his lips wasn't missed by Sam. He knew Dean had nightmares—Hell, they all had nightmares. It came with the territory. But Dean had more reason than most and Sam knew it. Years of feeling pushed by their father, of feeling not good enough, of being the peace keeper had left marks; damage that ran through the center of the man.

Hell had only given him more to hide; more nightmares, more fear, more insecurities…more everything. And now he faced going back. Sam knew Dean wasn't handling it well, Hell—he was terrified of Dean going back. They had to find a way to stop him from being taken.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a startled jolt from Dean; Sam expected him to wake up but instead saw that Dean was sound asleep. Another nightmare…the soft whisper of Latin reaching his ears; he could make out a few words of an exorcism rite. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and gave a gentle nudge. Dean jolted at the touch, his eyes flying open as he sat up, his arms in a defensive position.

"Dean, it's okay, man. You were having a nightmare."

Dean shook his head, rubbing his eyes. Sam knew he'd downplay it, it was Dean's way. Always had been and to be honest, the day that Dean didn't try to shrug off his fear would be the day Sam knew something was seriously wrong.

"Must have just dozed off," Dean muttered as he glanced at Sam. They sat in silence, surveying each other's damage.

"How's your shoulder," Dean asked, eyeing Sam's sling. "Taking your antibiotics?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's fine and yes."

"Good," Dean said, ignoring the look from Sam. "Any chance I'm getting out of here soon?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea. Alice gave us the rundown on the lore but we're still going to pour over the books, maybe find some fine print we can use. We've gotten through most of the lore by dividing it up but it's all not an easy read. There's a lot of conflicting information."

Dean nodded slowly. "She's still here, huh?"

"Yeah…good news though…she thinks she can get you out of here for a short while, maybe a short lived spell or something…you can grab a shower then at least. She's out getting some things for you now," Sam explained. "You okay with her?"

"So she's got a plan then," Dean muttered, ignoring Sam's question as he stumbled from the cot to the small sink in the corner. He didn't wait for Sam to answer him as he plunged his hands into the cold water, splashing it upon his face. He was going stir crazy.

"We have a few ideas," Sam commented noncommittally. He wasn't about to get Dean's hopes up when they were only just starting to argue out a plan.

"Good," Dean said under his breathe.

They both jumped as a door slammed loudly overhead. Sam stepped out of the panic room and listened at the bottom of the stairs. He could hear Alice upstairs, her voice loud and angry. He called out to Dean, "I'll go see what's happened!"

He stepped into the kitchen to find Alice angrily sorting out small paper packages on the table. Each package thumped loudly on the table as she slammed them down. He recognized the look on her face; it was same angry, determined look he had encountered the last time Dean had needed saving. Only, the last time she had been determined that Dean couldn't be saved; that she or Sam would have to put him down. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized how glad he was that she was on their side this time.

"Alice—"

"Don't," Alice snapped, her eyes glued to the packages before her.

"Umm…Anything I can help—"

Bobby stepped into the doorway, Alice's back to him. He waved at Sam before gesturing wildly to the other room, pausing only when Alice turned and look at him. She crossed her arms and waited; a murderous look on her face.

Bobby froze and dropped his arms to his sides before adjusting his cap. "Sam, get in here."

One look from Alice sent Sam scurrying after Bobby. They stood silent until the loud racket resumed in the kitchen. "What happened," Sam asked as he glanced back toward Alice.

"She went into town…couldn't find everything she needed...said the woman at the shop gave her a hard time about what she asked for. She's been through my supplies but it's not stuff I keep around," Bobby said with a shrug. "She's a little ticked off, if you didn't the message."

"What does she need," Sam asked, peering around the doorway. He couldn't imagine what they needed that had sent Alice into such an angry fit.

"Nettles, for a start."

"Nettles? …You mean those plants that sting you the second you touch them," Sam asked. He didn't want to image why they would need them.

Bobby nodded solemnly. "One in the same. Supposedly, they help to keep Fay away."

"So we leave them all over the house?"

Bobby shook his head, a grimace on his face. "We can do that too. But it's not quite that simple. The afflicted person gets to have them swatted all over their skin to help keep the Fay away."

Sam frowned, his eyes narrowing. "That's a new level of pain in the ass, even for us. There's got to be other ways, right?"

"There are plenty to choose from," Alice said, stepping into the doorway. "But we're going to use them all until we have a concrete plan to negotiate Dean's participation with the Fay. We'll need to use everything we have available. Nettles included."

"So where do we find nettles," Sam asked with a sigh. Dean was going to love this.

Alice shrugged. "We can try the woods, might find a few stragglers. We can also call around a few places; someone might have some in their garden."

"Who would be growing nettles on purpose," Sam scoffed.

"Lots of people," Alice snapped. "People who fear the Fay, people who have a garden full of weeds, witches, horticulturists, just to name a few."

"Oh," Sam mumbled. "Well, let me get the keys."

"You can't drive, Sam. Bobby already filled me in on your blood loss from your home surgery in Virginia. Besides, you need the sling for your arm. You don't have full range to steer. I'm driving."

"Alice, I can—"

"Shut and get the keys, Sam."

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was clutching the passenger side of the Impala, one hand firmly braced against the dash as the car fishtailed out of the yard and onto the road. He glanced at Alice; it had been awhile since he had seen her smile, apparently all it took was a joyride in the Impala.

"Just don't tell Dean," Sam said nervously. Dean would kill him but Alice had beaten him to the car and threatened to cram him into the sidecar of her Indian motorcycle unless he gave her the keys.

"I won't," she said, putting him at ease. "He already broke my nose…I'm not looking for an ass kicking."

"He'd probably kill us both," Sam mused. "But only after he checked the Impala over to make sure we hadn't actually hurt her."

A few miles outside of town, Alice pulled onto the side of an overgrown dirt road and killed the engine. A large wooded area surrounded them, road noise far off in the distance. Sam climbed out the car and caught a pair of gloves Alice tossed him. "Don't let the nettles touch you," she reminded him as they headed out into the woods. "There's a large clearing a few hundred feet ahead, we'll look there first."

Sam followed her through the woods, wishing his arm was free from the sling as he traversed the uneven ground. He was torn between enjoying the outdoors, away from the stale air of the panic room, and panicking over finding the plant they needed and getting back to Dean. He watched as Alice stopped at several large plants along the way, each time frowning and shaking her head before moving on.

"Not it," he asked.

"Nope," she said with a firm shake of her head.

He followed silently before remembering Dean's argument about involving Alice in his problem. "Alice?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, distracted by another plant.

"Why did you call us back…about Dean, I mean," he said, stumbling over his words.

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, a surprised look on her face. "Because I had information Bobby needed. Why?"

Sam shrugged and shook his head, wishing he hadn't said anything in the first place.

Alice turned and went back to inspecting plants. "Why did you ask, Sam," she said, not looking at him.

"You—you didn't call anyone back last time," Sam said.

Alice faltered as she rose from the plant she was inspecting. "That's what this is about…so who exactly is bellyaching about this? You, Bobby, or Dean?"

Sam was taken back at the anger in her voice. "Dean was surprised when we told him that you had called Bobby."

"Surprised or angry," she asked, although it was hardly a question. Her broken nose was a testament to Dean's current feelings toward her.

Sam shook his head. He should have kept his mouth shut. "He tried calling you when Dad—"

"This is about John," Alice said, interrupting him. Sam noticed the change in her body language. Her shoulders stiffened, pulled back, square. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth turning down at the edges. "I didn't call when I heard about John—that's what this is really all about?"

Sam didn't move.

She stopped walking and turned to face him. "If I had called…what would you have done? What good would it have done Dean? None of us exactly kept in contact after Dean's brush with the Wendigo, did we? Did I miss some Christmas card from you and your brother? Some phone call from your dad? No…I didn't, did I? We're hunters, Sam. Sometimes we can help each other out, sometime we can't."

She turned and strode through the trees, anger pouring from her.

Before Sam took another step, she turned back and stared at him. "You want to know why I didn't come crying when I got word of John's deal with that demon? Because there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it! As far as I'm concerned, your dad was a dead man walking the second he started hunting that demon. And as for Dean…he called me…so did you. So did Bobby. But I couldn't come looking for you boys because of Dean; because of what he wanted from me!"

Sam felt a cold pit in his stomach as Alice slowly walked up to him. Even with his towering height, she seemed larger than him, holding his gaze as she stepped in front of him, anger burning bright in her eyes.

"Do you know what Dean asked me to do?"

Sam didn't move.

"Do you know," Alice growled. "Answer me, dammit!"

Sam shook his head, not wanting to hear the answer but his mind was already whirling with possibilities; possibilities that were near guarantees, given Dean's track record.

"He wanted me to find a way to get John back," Alice snapped. "By any means necessary. He had already tried to make a deal to get your dad back…demon said no, thank God for that! Dean thought I could help him, that I had some nifty way to save your dad from an eternity in hell, using the little down payment of Dean's soul."

Sam froze at her words.

"So I decided that before Dean came looking for me, I'd better just disappear until he cooled off. I scattered my books over three states to make sure Dean couldn't find them. I didn't call anyone because I wasn't going to have any part of it. John was on a hell-bent mission from the moment your mom burned on that ceiling," Alice spat. "And I wasn't about to help Dean plan out his own trip downstairs."

They stood staring at each other, the words hanging heavily between them. Alice looked down at her boots, her face flushed. Sam kept staring at her, wondering what to do. He wasn't going to argue…he knew she wouldn't lie to him…about some things, sure…but nothing like this. And he knew Dean. He knew Dean would lie to him, keeping him in the dark as to why he had pushed he and Sam to search for Alice so hard after John had died. He felt a heat wave of anger rushing over him.

With a shake of her head, Alice stomped off, her boots snapping twigs as she went. "Let's just get this done, Sam…stop standing there with your mouth hanging open," she called out over her shoulder.

Without a word, Sam trudged after her. Next time, he'd make Bobby go. He could see the bright sunlight filtering in through the trees, the clearing ahead. They stepped into the overgrown clearing, insects buzzed in the overgrown dog fennel that stood nearly as tall as Sam.

Without waiting for Sam to follow her, Alice tore into the tangled mess and left a narrow path in the crushed undergrowth. Sam kept a few feet to her left, his eyes glued to the ground in hopes of finding the plant that could help Dean. They didn't talk, both bogged down with their own thoughts. A dozen feet into the clearing Sam spotted lacey leaves and kneeled low to make sure it was the plant they needed. Black and brown spots covered it, slime and decay coated the plant's stalk.

He spotted another plant a few feet away, this one laying on the ground, rotten. Something wasn't right.

"Alice, over here," he called out. He jumped when she appeared next to him, silent in the overgrowth. "Look at this, both rotten."

"Same thing I've found," she said with a frown, her brows furrowed as she prodded the plant. "I can't understand it. It's in season…so what the hell happened to it all?"

"Could something—"

Sam was cut off by a loud snarl somewhere in the dense growth. Instantly and without a word, he and Alice were standing, their backs to one another; their previous conversation forgotten for the moment. They stared into the tangle of grass, dog fennel, tree saplings, and brambles. "Do you see anything," Alice whispered.

Sam stood on tiptoe and peered out over the clearing. He could see the dog fennels swaying as something pushed its way through them. "I see something moving about a hundred feet to our right…coming right for us, by the look of it," Sam muttered quietly.

"You want to stay and take it out or make a run for it," Alice asked, keeping her voice low.

"If we kill it, does that help Dean," Sam asked.

Alice shook her head. "Not really…but it might make me feel better," she admitted with a shrug.

Sam snorted lightly. She sounded like Dean.

"I say we get out of here," Sam muttered. "We don't have time to dispose of a dead Fay."

Alice nodded her agreement. "Fine."

They took off across the clearing, leaves and branches snapping loudly under their boots. A nearby snarl made them go faster. Sam could hear something moving behind them. His shoulder throbbed with every step he took, the uneven ground making him stumble.

"Keep going," he heard Alice yell out before she veered away from him.

He broke the tree line and glanced back to see if Alice was behind him, the glint of the Impala a few hundred feet away. He turned his eyes back to the overgrown clearing, anxious to be moving again. He heard a branch snap and caught a glimpse of reddish hair as she came flying out of the bushes, fear in her eyes. He knew she was going down hard, her arms thrown out in front to slow her fall. He spotted the bright green, lacey leaved plant in her bare hand and ran towards her. She hit the ground hard, sprawling through the tangled growth.

"Alice!"

"Sam, it's—"

He watched in horror as Alice was suddenly jerked backwards, her words disappearing as she fought to kick at something behind her. Their eyes met for a second before she was dragged out of sight, back into the thick maze of dog fennel, her hands scrambling along the rough ground, trying to find something to hold on to. Sam ran back to the edge of the overgrown clearing, listening for any sound that would tell him which way they went. A shrill screech followed by a yell somewhere off to his right was all he needed before crashing into the undergrowth, pushing the dog fennel out of his way. "Alice!"

Sam continued to fight his way through the tall growth, briars snagging his clothes as he went. "Alice! Where are you?"

Silence filled his ears. "Alice! Where the hell are you?!"

He was about to panic when he finally heard her. "Over here!"

He turned, trying to pinpoint her voice. His shoulder throbbed as he stumbled and suddenly, he was falling. He landed on his good arm and knees, trying to protect his stitched shoulder. He hissed at the agonizing pain, suddenly wishing he had morphine in the trunk. He jumped as he felt something touch his arm. "Sam?"

He forced his eyes open, spots dancing in his vision. "Alice?"

"Yeah… Sam," she gasped from underneath him. "Can you get off me?"

He realized he was sprawled over her, his knees planted in her chest. "Sorry," he mumbled as he shifted off of her, trying to survey the damage.

She rolled to her side, coughing to filling her crushed lungs with air. Sam grabbed her shoulder and awkwardly heaved her into a sitting position. He kneeled next to her, not sure what to do. He couldn't hear the Fay in the leaves, but that didn't mean much. He turned back to Alice; he could see her hands were bloody, long scratches running from her hands to her elbows. Leaves were tangled in her hair, dirt and blood caked on her cheek. She groaned as she rolled her dirty jeans up to reveal large hand shaped bruises blossoming on her calves. "Look familiar?"

Sam nodded as he cradled his shoulder. "Same as Dean's face. What the hell was that thing doing out here?"

"I'd guess the same thing we were, going after the nettles," she said, grimacing as she ran a hand over her side. "All those rotten nettles…guess the Fay is trying to get rid of anything we can use to protect Dean."

"What about the nettles you found," Sam asked as he peered around them, looking for any sign of the plant she had found.

"Gone, rotted in my hand," Alice said with a frown. "Let's get the hell out of here. How's your shoulder?"

Without waiting for Sam to reply, she pulled his shirt open, peering at his shoulder. "Guessing you got lucky; it doesn't look like you pulled any stitches out. We'll check them when we get back to Bobby's."

Sam nodded as he slowly climbed to his feet. "Now what?"

"Plan B," Alice said sternly. "Now, which way is the damn car?"

After a long limping walk to the car, Alice and Sam were off again. Sam watched as Alice drove, wondering how she knew where she was going. She was silent as she drove, occasionally running a hand over her side and pulling a stray leaf from her hair. As she pulled the car off the main road, he saw a large farmhouse come into view. Large well-tended gardens surrounded the main house, a barn in the distant field.

"You know this place," he asked as he noticed several blonde haired children on the porch, their wide eyes staring at the car as it approached.

"No, Sam. I thought I'd just ask some complete stranger for some common garden weeds so we can save your brother from a bunch of faeries," Alice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She climbed out of the car, waving at the kids on the porch. "Go find your momma!"

The four children took off into the house, the screen door slamming behind them. Sam climbed out of the car, wondering what was going on.

"Alice, where are we?"

"Mercury Farm," she said as she started walking toward the large house. "You will never come here without me or Bobby, you understand me?"

"What are we here for," he asked impatiently, ignoring her statement. He needed to get back to Dean.

"Nettles. Maybe a few other things if we're lucky," Alice explained as she nodded at a tall, pale woman approaching them. Her platinum blonde hair was loose, framing her thin face. Sam didn't miss the worry on her face as she glanced at the children now sitting on the porch railing. He look curiously from the woman to the children, red ribbons tied in the long hair of the girls and tied onto the wrists of the boys. The soft sound of bells met his ears; he spotted them pinned to the edge of the woman's sleeve.

"Alice Hilty," the woman stated; her voice wary. "What the hell are you doing in South Dakota?"

"Hello Hattie," Alice said as she walked toward the woman. "I'm here to help out a friend. I'm hoping you might have a few things we can't get. You know I wouldn't bother you unless it was a real emergency…"

Hattie glanced back to the children before turning her attention back to them. She glanced at Sam before speaking to Alice. "Bobby Singer knows you're here in town?"

"He does. We need a few things to hold off the Fay…although; I can see you're having your own Fay problems at the moment," Alice said with a curt nod toward the children sitting on the porch railing.

The woman frowned before nodding. "We've had all the signs since early morning: fresh milk spoiling, fruit rotting on the table, things like that."

Alice nodded. "We need a few things to protect a Teind. We're having a hard time getting nettles, found a patch of wild ones but they rotted right in front of us. I was hoping your supply might be intact."

"I put up extra deterrents early this morning so hopefully they're fine," Hattie said as she hurried to one of the large fenced gardens.

Sam glanced around the farm, realizing that this woman wasn't a simple farmer. The Amish hex sign painted on the barn, carvings on fence posts, and a sudden realization of the garden design made him glance at Hattie. She was far more knowledgeable than he would have guessed. He paused to take in the large metal frame that contained a large herb garden, wondering if any neighbors had noticed the enormous pentagram shaped garden.

"What do you use to deter Fay," Sam asked curiously as he rushed to catch up to them.

"For the gardens, I plant rows of herbs they hate around the ones that I need. I also use iron in the fences and iron gates. I use things to bait them away from the house and gardens, things they want… For our own protection, I use silver bells on our clothes, red ribbons in hair, fresh bread in pockets, along with a few other things," she explained. "I use the older methods, since I don't want to scare the children. There are other ways, more painful and costly, but I won't resort to those unless it's necessary. Who was unlucky enough to be chosen as a Teind?"

"My brother," Sam explained. "He's under lock and key right now but we won't be able to keep him like that much longer."

Hattie nodded as Alice pushed past them and went into the garden, knife and gloves in hand. "It is hard to convince someone who has been chosen that they can't be left alone or left free to wander around. My family has lost a child nearly every generation to the Fay."

"Do the Fay prefer certain family lines?"

Hattie shook her head. "Not unless you have Fay blood in the bloodline. My family does, unfortunately. So far, all of my children have been untouched by the Fay but it might not always be that way."

Sam watched as Alice walked through the garden, her eyes scouring the beds for herbs she needed. "When you said you leave bait for the Fay…what did you mean?"

Hattie blushed. "My grandmother taught me… she, like so many others, believed that if you left gifts for the Fay that your crops would grow strong, your cows would produce more milk... The Seelie court have long provided good lives to humans they favor…you might leave a saucer of sugary milk on the doorstep at night, a smooth stone, or some small trinket. On full moons, should you come across a puddle that reflects the moon, you must pour in a pail of fresh milk."

Sam tried to hold back his disbelief. "And those work?"

Hattie shrugged. "I've done all of these things for years, in efforts to gain favor from the Seelie. I have suffered loss; but as I said, none of my children have been taken."

They watched silently as Alice cut stalks of green nettles and sweet smelling herbs. With an armload of greenery, she headed to the car, placing it all in the trunk before returning to them. "I appreciate it, Hattie. If you see the Fay again, do me a favor and call Bobby."

Hattie nodded. "I hope your brother makes it. A Teind is a hard one to keep, but far harder to lose."

Alice stood silent for a minute, staring at the children on the porch. "Hattie…I've read about a salve… something that could allow someone to see past the Fay magic…do you know anything about it?"

Hattie shifted uncomfortably, her head dipping low allowing her blonde hair to cover her face. "I do."

Alice and Sam shared a look of hope. "What can you tell us about it?"

"It's dangerous," Hattie muttered. "Best forget about it."

"We'll take the risk," Sam countered.

Hattie stood silent. "Let me show you something."

Sam and Alice followed Hattie across the yard and up the steps. The children stepped back, staring up at Sam. They stood silent as Hattie motioned Sam and Alice to follow her inside. The inside of the house was plain, reminding Sam of Alice's own house, simply furnished but everything with a purpose. Hattie led them up a flight of stairs and paused outside of a narrow door.

"You mustn't tell anyone," she muttered.

Sam watched curiously as she pulled a worn skeleton key from a red ribbon around her neck. She hesitated before pushing the key into the lock and turning it. The loud 'pop' of the old lock made Hattie jump. She pushed the door open and gestured for Alice and Sam to enter.

Sam looked at Alice. She shrugged and pushed past him, clearly more curious than worried. Sam followed her in and glanced around the room. Sunlight flowed through the white cotton curtains, the soft green walls lined with framed photographs of the children and Hattie. Sam paused to stare at a picture of Hattie, younger and happier, wrapped in the arms of a young man.

Lost in thought, Sam was jerked from the pictures by Alice. She grabbed his good arm and spun him around. He froze. A deep silence encompassed the room, not a sound made as Sam took a step toward the bed. It had been shoved into the corner of the room, under the sloped ceiling of the gable. He lifted the gauzy mosquito netting and gazed at the form that lay perfectly still on the colorful quilt.

Arms by his sides, he looked just as he had in the photograph, minus a few inhuman differences. His dark hair held no traces of gray, no stubble lined his face. Sam couldn't see any movement: no rise and fall of his chest, no soft movement in his hands. Nothing. His skin was pale, but Sam could still see the wood grain. Maple, maybe. It must have taken months to carve such a remarkably lifelike and life-size doll. Sam frowned at the eyes, they looked as though someone had taken a knife to the wood, gouging and destroying the hard wood, leaving behind scars.

Alice moved to the bed's side and reached out, running her hand along his arm. She pulled her hand back instantly before slowly reaching out again.

She glanced at Sam. "Changeling—"

Her words trailed off as she glanced at the doorway where Hattie stood. Alice replaced the gauzy netting and moved to the low table under the window. A round bowl of smooth pebbles sat in the center, a tall glass of milk to the right, and a jar of honey to the left. A stack of dried tobacco leaves were strung on a yellow ribbon and tied to the knob of the drawer. Symbols were drawn on the window pane, two crescent moons pointing towards each other.

Sam and Alice turned and left the room, as silent as they had entered. Hattie closed and locked the door.

"Don't speak until we are outside," she said before descending the stairs.

Once outside and away from the house, Sam broke the silence. "What was that?!"

"It's obvious, Sam..," Alice snapped. "A changeling. Not a living one…a doll."

Hattie said nothing as she glanced at the small upstairs window.

"Am I right, Hattie?"

"Yes, although anything else would have been more kind," she said. "When the Fay first took my husband, I fought for his return with gifts. I was successful the first several times they took him. They took my offerings and returned him, weeks and sometimes months later. But the last time…he never came back. When I found—what you saw—I knew he wasn't coming back. They went through so much trouble to carve a doll in his likeness…they didn't intend to return him. I still leave gifts for his safe return…they've sat untouched for years."

"What are the items on the table meant for," Alice asked.

Hattie cleared her throat, her eyes watering from tears unshed. Her voice quaked with bitterness and anger. "A doll is worse than a dying replacement. A doll requires daily maintenance. It must be offered food, tobacco, and small gifts, hence the pebbles. If you refuse to house a doll, or provide it food, your loved one will suffer the cold and hunger."

Sam felt a weight hit him, imaging the task of caring for a shallow replacement rather than a loved one…of being hostage to the Fay's rules.

"How many years has it been," Alice asked, her voice low.

"Four," Hattie said as she glanced at the children who had returned to the porch. "He's never even seen our last child. I've been working to keep the Fay content…I have to keep the children safe…I can't lose anyone else."

"Hattie, how did being taken affect him? How was he when he returned each time," Sam asked. He knew it was cruel, but he wanted to hear it.

The blonde woman paused, her gaze softening. "He was lost. He would forget who we were…who he was. He would lose time itself, never understanding how long he had been gone. He was scared to eat, but starving all the same. He had nightmares for months, and after each one he seemed lost again, like he wasn't sure what was real. He would cry out for me, but push me away. He went from being a man to a child…scared of the dark and crying in his sleep."

"What did he see when he was taken," Alice asked.

"I believed he saw the Seelie. He described beautiful things and places…so the next day I made the salve and put it in his eyes. The next time he was taken and returned, his stories were darker, after that I knew he was seeing past the magic. He was seeing the Unseelie."

"Hattie…about the salve…," Alice asked. Now more than ever, they needed the help.

"It's dangerous," she explained. "The Fay give the victims the Sight; they can see all the magic of the Fay: the pretty lies, the pretty faces they wear, the banquets…the intoxicating beauty."

"And the salve…," Sam said, waiting for the negative.

"It allows you to see what's real. Whether it's a truly beautiful Fay or a terrifying one; it removes the mask. It's smeared into the eyes. Afterwards, they can see the truth of the matter. The Fay's real faces, their true home, that the banquet tables that are covered in raw meat and ash…not pastries."

"You said it's dangerous? How is seeing their true forms dangerous," Sam asked.

"Did you notice the eyes of the changeling doll," Hattie asked, her eyes glued to the ground.

"Yes," Sam said.

"When that doll was found here, in the garden, it wasn't like that. It had beautiful eyes…Just like my husband's. Green like grass, with flecks of gold…Well, remember…I told you that whatever fate the doll suffers, so shall the man….the doll also shows the condition of the real man."

Sam shifted. "So—you're saying the Fay did that to your husband, and it showed up on the doll as well?"

Hattie nodded. "It's because of the salve...I know it is."

"Why?"

"If the Fay realize someone can see their true form, their true home…they will ask which eye you can see them from. If you say the right eye, they will gouge out your right eye. If you say left, they will gouge out the left. You have to be clever in order to not be blinded. They use trickery to fool men into answering."

"So we just don't let them realize Dean can see them," Sam stated firmly.

Hattie shook her head vehemently. "Don't be foolish! By using the salve, I damned my husband to be blinded. No. Your brother won't be able to keep his fear in check. He'll give himself away."

"But—"

Alice interrupted him. "Hattie…we know Dean ate something from the Fay and was having hallucinations…we were able to flush the poison out. Would that salve have helped him then?"

She needed Sam to stop pushing Hattie. He was making this personal for her.

Hattie's head shook from side to side. "I doubt it. The hallucinations go beyond what you can see, they affect what you believe. The salve is only meant to cure your vision, not your mind."

"So about this salve…how do we get it," Sam pushed.

Hattie looked from Alice to Sam, her face lined with apprehension. "It's difficult to make, one wrong measurement and it can blind you just as easily as the Fay."

"But it might be the best thing we can try, to help him," Sam argued.

"You're not helping him. Whether by the Fay or the salve, you'll only blind him. Better to find another way," Hattie cautioned.

"Can you make the salve? Or give us the recipe," Sam persisted.

Hattie took a step back. "No."

"Hattie—"

"I gave you the plants you needed. Now leave," she spat before she turned and headed for the house. Sam watched as she hurried the children inside before closing the large wooden door.

"Guess that could have gone better," he mumbled as he slid into the Impala.

"Could have gone worse," Alice quipped. "Least she didn't shoot us…she's still grieving and that damn doll is making her life hell."

Sam watched as the farm disappeared in the passenger side mirror. "I can't imagine doing that…spending time caring for a doll like that. That's gotta be draining for her."

Alice nodded solemnly. "But her fear keeps her from doing anything different. If she stops, she'll have to forever wonder if her husband suffered for it. I don't envy her."

"How do you know her?"

Alice shrugged. "Her family used to live near the Amish community where I live. Her great grandfather fell out of favor in the community…he was a Gypsy tinker who lived by superstition, he moved his family to South Dakota after one of his children disappeared. Fay, undoubtedly. They've been running Mercury Farm for generations."

"Does she know about you," Sam asked. "That you knew her family back in the day?"

Alice shook her head before replying, her voice dry. "I don't go around telling everyone about being a phoenix and not aging. It tends to make people want to kill me."

"Speaking of which…," Sam added, wondering if Alice would answer his question. She had been unusually talkative all day. "What was the story about dad hunting you down? I know you mentioned it once, when we stayed in Tennessee. Dad mentioned it but never got into any details."

They road in silence; Sam waited for Alice to speak.

"You have your dad's journal…I'm sure it's all in there if you really want to know."

"Actually, those pages are missing. The name 'Alice' is written in the edge, but it's torn out."

"Then I guess he didn't want you boys to know," she offered as she pulled into the salvage yard. "Anything else you Hardy Boys want to know about? Or can I get back to work?"

Alright…so this chapter was way, way, way to big….so I chopped it. But the good news—the next chapter is already hugely underway and really pulling me in. And it gets bloody. Dean melts down. Sam rats out Alice. Bobby gets pissed at everyone. Alice gets herself locked out of Bobby's. Crowley..Castiel. Even Charlotte comes back for a face to face with Alice. It ain't pretty…. So hang on!

Also...please leave a comment if you have a second or two. Thanks muchly!