Chapter Three
Sunrise didn't last long enough in Dean's opinion. Whatever ray of light managed to sneak through the trees to zap Chewy back to Choctaw hell vanished into the predawn sky as they made their way back down the path to the parking lot.
Billy met them a short distance from the others. "We sent the kid on to the hospital in Winston. He had teeth marks all over his chest and stomach but none of the punctures were very deep. What in the hell was it that had him? He didn't make any sense at all."
"Big pit bull. Ran off into the woods," Greenough stated evenly.
"A pit bull didn't do that to him." Billy pointed at Dean's face.
"No, that was a big cypress limb. Popped him right in the eye while we were chasing the dog." Park edged past Billy, deflecting his attention from Dean. "We're going to take him into the ER to make sure he didn't get tree bark stuck in it."
Sam agreed and tossed their backpacks into the trunk. "Yeah. We'll follow you guys."
Dean didn't add to the drama. He slid into the Impala's passenger seat and tried not to touch his face. It burned and itched and he just wanted to scratch it off-his entire face, eyeball and all. He whiteknuckled the door handle with his right hand and clenched his shirt with the other. "How far is this ER anyway?" he growled.
Sam rolled down the window and asked. At Billy's reply of twenty minutes, Dean began curse. He bailed out of the car before Sam could even get it back into park.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sam called as Dean popped open the trunk and jerked out his backpack.
Dean rummaged through the bag in growing desperation. "I gotta have something in here. Some more cornmeal, some water, a little bottle of tequila, something to stop this before I rip my eye out."
Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and peered into his face. Dean could only see through the one eye, and that was going blurry, but he could see Sam's expression change to worry, then to fear. Sam snatched the bag out of his hand, dumped it on the ground, and began to tumble through the contents.
Park and Greenough noticed the activity and came over. "What's up?" Park asked then took another look at Dean. "Oh that's worse. Lots worse."
"Have you got any more cornmeal? Any water? Anything?" Sam continued to plunder the bag. "I got nothing left in here."
"I've got salt in the trunk and a warm Mountain Dew. I don't think you want that." Park answered.
"What's this?" Greenough asked from the trunk of the Impala. He held up a Dasani bottle.
"Yes!" Sam grabbed the bottle. "Holy water. The last we had."
"You've found a priest who'll bless Dasani?" Greenough asked.
Sam poured a little of the water over Dean's face.
"Aaaugh!" he cried out as his knees buckled. Sam stopped pouring. "No, don't stop. It's a hurts-so-good kind of thing!" When Sam hesitated, Dean grabbed the bottle and began to pour the water into his eye and over his cheek.
It was really bad before, but when the water hit his face it was a whole new kind of really bad, the really good kind of really bad. He knew the holy water was helping. He could feel the sizzle and hear the hiss, just like when you hit a demon with it. But the evil residue the monster had left on his face and in his eye didn't go gentle. He felt like layers of tissue were being taken with it.
The bottle grew lighter in his hand until it was empty. He leaned against the side of the Impala and breathed. Maybe it had been enough. He tried to blink. His eye felt a little scratchy still, but it seemed better, less swollen. He opened it a little and was relieved that he could see the sun finally showing overhead. His skin burned still but the crawling sensation all over his face was gone.
"There. Better. A little Visine and I'll be good as new," he declared. Sam, Park, and Greenough just stared at him.
"I never saw anybody's face smoke like that," Greenough said at last. "I don't ever want to again."
"You okay?" Sam asked. "That looked . . . painful."
"I'm good." Dean pulled himself up to stand. "I just want a couple of Tylenol and a nap."
"Hey, that kid," Park suddenly realized. "We need to be sure the hospital has got holy water for that kid. He got bit by the thing."
"Where are we going to get holy water?" Greenough asked. "It's six o'clock in the morning."
Dean waved them on their way. "You'll figure it out."
The partners drove away, still arguing about where to find holy water, as Sam helped Dean into the car.
Dean leaned against the wall outside the door as Sam unlocked the apartment. All he wanted to do was get inside, take a shower to wash off the cave dirt and the rest of the Chewy stink, and go back to bed with a bag of frozen peas on his face.
To his delight followed quickly by embarrassment, Elizabeth's door opened and she stepped out into the hall. She smiled at him as she walked toward them, all dressed for work. She wore a charcoal suit and carried a briefcase. Her hair was up in an elegant twist and she wore a small but unusual pendant on a silver chain.
"Wow." He breathed as reached out to adjust her necklace. "You look seriously great."
She glanced down at herself and laughed. "I feel like an undertaker." Then she looked him over and frowned. "You look like you've been taken under. What happened?"
"You ought to see the other guy," he joked, suddenly very self-conscious. "We went looking for a missing boy with the SBI guys last night. I got pegged in the face by a tree."
She put down her briefcase and reached up to his face, carefully turning it into the light. "A tree did this? It looks like a burn. Have you got any aloe?"
He shook his head. She walked back toward her apartment and he followed curiously. She opened her refrigerator and took out a bottle of "After Sun Care with Organic Aloe Vera Gel" and passed it into his hand. "Try this. It might help take the sting out of it."
He smiled at her, or smiled as much as his burned cheek would let him. "Thanks. I owe you." She closed the fridge and picked up her briefcase again.
"What are you doing for dinner tonight?" he asked as he walked her back down the hallway.
"I've got court this morning. It all depends on how it goes," she replied.
"You won't feel like cooking regardless. Come over and eat with me. With me and Sam. With us. And with Abigail. I bet she'd come." He tried not to sound stupid, but something about her made him anxious. "I owe you."
"What you owe me is the truth," she stated. "I don't know what you guys are or what you're doing in Hunter or how it involves cornbread at two in the morning, and maybe I don't want to know."
"But you will have dinner with us. About six? Too early? Too late?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Okay, but better make it seven. I'll bring dessert."
"Seven's perfect." She turned, but he stopped her. "Hey, Lizzy, kick ass in there today."
She smiled at him. "I'll do my best."
Scooter watched as Dean came in the door from his customary perch on the back of the couch. He ran over and gave a good sniff then barked at him as if he didn't smell right. Scooter ran into the bathroom and placed his paws on the side of the bathtub, looked back at him and barked.
"Okay, Scoots, I get the message. I smell like monster." The water stung his face but it was the good kind of sting so he stood there under the shower until he finally felt clean. Moments later, with the towel wrapped around his waist, he leaned into the mirror and examined the burn on his cheek. It was raw and red, and his eye was already turning black and blue. No wonder Elizabeth was suspicious. Carefully he dotted the cold aloe vera over his face and eyelid, grateful for the cooling sensation it provided.
He dressed and headed to the kitchen. "You want something to eat, Scooter?" he asked. Scooter stood beside him and waited as Dean opened a can and poured food into his bowl.
"What are you feeding him?" Sam tossed his empty cereal bowl into the sink and picked up the empty container. "Organic chicken, wild venison, sweet potatoes?" he read. "Dean, this dog is eating better than we are."
"Yeah, but he's such a little guy it's not that much more to feed him the good stuff. Besides, you're worth it, aren't you Scooter-man?" Dean rubbed Scooter behind the ears. Scooter wiggled contentedly into his fingers, then rolled over onto his back for a belly rub to go with it.
After everyone had fed themselves, the two young men went back to bed. First Scooter lay down next to Dean, curling up against his side. After a while, he decided to visit Sam and crossed the living room into the other bedroom.
Sam was groaning and rolling around so much that Scooter wasn't really sure if it was safe to hop on the bed with him. But Sam seemed so upset. The little dog made the leap on to the bed and curled up next to Sam's belly and within a few seconds his young man had quietened down.
Scooter felt Sam rubbing on his back and looked up at him. Sam blinked at him and smiled sadly. "Thanks, Scoot." Then Sam curled up next to him and went back to sleep, one hand resting on his fur.
Sometime mid-morning, Dean rolled over when his phone rang. It was Park.
He spoke to the agent for a few minutes, then got up to get something to eat. He looked through the cabinets and finally settled on another bowl of cereal.
Sam surfaced a few minutes later. "Do we have anything to eat but cereal?"
"Dog food."
"Don't think I'm not tempted. We've got to do better than this." Sam sighed and pulled out a box of Honey Bunches of Oats.
"We'll do better at dinner. I invited Lizzy and Abigail over to eat with us." Dean poured another bowl of Lucky Charms. "Oh, and Park called. He said they released the kid. He had a few puncture woods but nothing too deep. And no burns or signs of poisoning."
"Lucky kid." Sam leaned across the table to study Dean's eye. "Or its tail had a stinger of some kind that got you."
"Probably."
"It looks better now, though. And I was thinking," Sam poured his milk and took a bite, "the Choctaw worshipped the sun. I think it was the sunshine that took out the sitichula, not the banishment."
Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. Whatever worked. Just don't tell the guys that. They were really proud of themselves."
"Did Greenough really call Park John Ross back there?" Sam asked.
"Is Greenough's name really Dennis?"
The two laughed. "Park said that they had to go back to base. But if we turn up anything else weird in Hunter to give them a call." Dean loaded his bowl in the dishwasher. "I still can't get over having a dishwasher."
"Comforts of home." Sam stretched and tossed his bowl in the sink.
"Hey!" Dean cried as he pointed toward the dishwasher. "It's open and everything."
"And you're in front of it." Dean stepped aside, and Sam made a big show of putting his bowl in the rack.
"Before I forget, we're having dinner with the girls here tonight," Dean stated casually, or at least as casually as he could considering how excited he was.
"Are you sure about this?" Sam closed the dishwasher and stared at him. "What are we going to eat? Cereal? Dog food?"
"She's bringing dessert. Maybe more pie." Dean tried to make Sam see reason. "It doesn't matter what we cook."
"Let's keep it simple. We'll drop by the Hot Pig and get some barbecue," Sam suggested. "I like Abigail and do not want to scare her away with our idea of home cooking."
Dean had to agree.
That afternoon at around four, Dean looked up from Jeopardy to see Elizabeth's car pulling into its parking place. "Sam, I'm going to check the mail," he called and ran to the boxes at the front of the building, just in time to meet her there.
Dean opened the box, but it was empty as usual. After all, who would send them mail? Who even knew they were in Hunter? "Hey, how was court?" he asked.
"Awful." She opened her box and pulled out a stack of mail, sorted through it and trashed all but two pieces in the big garbage can. "I won."
"Winning is good."
"Only sometimes." He held the door open for her as they entered the building and walked her down the hall to her place, but she didn't seem inclined to talk.
"Well, I'll see you at seven?" he asked.
"Yeah. If you still want to eat earlier, that's fine with me too. I'm done for the day. It's been a rough one." She threw the mail on the counter and tossed her briefcase to the floor. Then she reached up and began fumbling with the clasp of her necklace. "This thing has bothered me all day long."
"Let me try," Dean offered and she turned her back to him. The instant his fingers touched the metal, he knew why her day had been so bad. "How long have you had this?" he asked.
"A couple of days. I bought it at Patterson's. They've got a little gift shop in the back of the B&B. Sometimes they get some nice estate pieces. I thought this was pretty." The instant the necklace left her skin, she sighed deeply. "That was the first and last time I'll ever wear it though."
"Why don't you put on something comfortable and we'll go for a walk. Make you feel better," he suggested. He held up the necklace. "Can I borrow this for a little while?"
"You can have it." Elizabeth rubbed at her neck where the chain had been. Then she smiled at him for the first time since she'd come home. He smiled back in relief. On the counter sat an antique letter rack complete with envelopes.
"Do you mind?" he asked as he took an envelope.
She shook her head. He dropped the necklace inside. The instant it left his fingers, he could feel the air clear just a bit, as if an angry haze around him had lifted.
"This necklace was part of an estate sale, right?" he asked. "Did they have any more pieces from the same owner?"
"Abigail looked at a pair of earrings that matched."
"Did she buy them?" He couldn't help the urgency in his voice.
"No. She decided not to."
"Good."
"Why?" Elizabeth pierced him with an intense look. "What's wrong with that necklace?"
He gave her his most disarming grin. "Wrong with it?"
"If there's nothing wrong with it, let me put it on again," she declared and held out her hand.
"Bad idea. Cheap metal. Turn your skin green."
"Dean Winchester, you owe me the truth." He took one look in those big brown eyes, so sultry but so determined.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, hoping she'd say no. The last thing he wanted was to drag her into the freak show that was his life.
Then he looked down at the envelope in his hand. She'd sworn to him that her town wasn't haunted. They'd laughed at the idea of anything creepy going on in Hunter. But in just over two weeks, he'd seen a hardware store torn up by a wooden box of mysterious origin, a full-scale haunting of an abandoned hospital, a mythical Native American beast on the prowl, and now Elizabeth had just narrowly escaped a cursed necklace.
The freakshow had come to Hunter and by God he was going to protect her. He'd take on every evil thing in the entire town if he had to until he knew she was safe.
"If you're sure," he said, reaching out to her, "then come with me."
She nodded and took his hand.
They walked into the Bed and Breakfast a few minutes later. "Hey, Shawna," Elizabeth greeted the woman in the gift shop. "Do you have any more pieces that go with that necklace I bought?"
"I do indeed," Shawna replied. "There were five pieces in that lot and I've still got the other four."
"Good," Dean answered. "We'll take them."
"I like a man who knows his own mind," Shawna responded brightly as she walked behind the counter, winking at Elizabeth. She pulled out a tray and began to reach for a piece.
"That's okay, just point to the ones that go with the necklace." Dean reached over and plucked a tissue out of a box on the counter. "Don't want to get them dirty. Have you got something to put them in?"
"I do." The woman boxed up the pieces and wrote up a receipt. "That'll be $258."
Dean blanched. That was almost half of their total net worth at the moment.
"Come on, Shawna." Elizabeth chided her. "He's taking the whole lot. They're for his mom. Cut him some slack."
Shawna glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Well," she drew out the word thoughtfully, "since they're for your mother I can give you twenty percent off. Let's make it $206."
"Two hundred even." Elizabeth ended her negotiation firmly.
"Okay, girl. You've got too much of your Grandmaw Coleman in you. Two hundred."
Dean pulled out his wallet and counted over the two hundred, wondering how in the world he'd explain that one to Sam. There wasn't even a pool hall anywhere nearby to hustle any back.
"Do you have anything sweet left from lunch?" Elizabeth asked. "We're having dinner together and I promised to bring dessert."
"I think I've got some cake," Shawna replied.
"Do you have any pie?" Dean interjected. "I love pie."
Shawna winked at him. "I'll be right back."
Once she'd left the room, Elizabeth fished out her wallet and passed him two crisp $100 bills.
"No. I got this," he declared firmly.
"I don't know why I hate that jewelry so much, but I hate it. I want it gone forever. I'm buying it from you so I can throw it in the river." Elizabeth held out the money again.
"Throwing it in the river will only make the fish mean," he declared. "We've got to destroy it utterly. But before we do, we need to know who it belonged to."
"Not a problem," Elizabeth stated, shoving the money into his hand and taking the box from him.
"Shawna," Elizabeth called as she led Dean back through the huge house toward the kitchen. "Can I ask you one question about this jewelry?"
A cry of terror ahead of them prompted them to run. They entered what had once been a large sitting room complete with ornate fireplace that now served as a dining room for the bed and breakfast's café.
Elizabeth gasped in horror. Shawna lay on the floor by the fireplace next to a pool of blood. Before she could take a step toward the woman, Dean grabbed her arm. The air in the room had gone dark and stagnant. The body of a man slumped against the fireplace surround, blood flowing freely from what appeared to be stab wounds in his neck and body.
"Damn you, Lucinda," the man cursed, bloody foam bubbling from the wound in his neck. He stared past Dean so fiercely that he turned to see for himself.
A woman in a floor-length green dress stood behind him. Her hair hung down her back in long red waves and she held a large knife in her hand. "You had it coming, Yancy." She spat the words angrily.
"It's an echo," Dean quietly explained to Elizabeth. "Like a rewinding a movie."
To his surprise, the woman turned to face them, her eyes blazing. He backed away from her, wondering what part of the past event she was reliving, but she took a step towards him. All the time, her eyes never left his.
"You," the woman hissed as she moved closer, the knife gleaming in her fist.
Dean pulled Elizabeth behind him away from the apparition. But the thing was unbelievably fast. It circled behind and slashed at them. To his surprise the spectral knife passed right through Elizabeth but bit into his side painfully.
Lucinda's ghost laughed. "Oh, yes." Her eyes practically glowed with a crazy hunger. "I can see you."
He shuddered as a wave of pain rolled through him. "Elizabeth, run," he tried to call, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Get Sam." He wanted to look away from that pale face, those frightening eyes, but she held him in her gaze.
She turned her head from side to side, leering at him. He tried to dodge past her, but wherever he turned, her smiling presence confronted him as she easily countered his movements. Without warning, she was in his face, her lips nearly touching his, as a paralyzing cold rolled off her.
She ran an icy finger down his cheek, and the touch of the grave chilled him right to the core. Even the blood that ran down his side grew cold. "I can touch you," she sighed.
Then she leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, a whisper full of dark, joyful promise. "I can kill you."