The next morning was gray and overcast, with a heavy drizzle that seemed to cast a leaden pall over everything. Sam was withdrawn and Dean was feeling surly after a very poor night's sleep.
They headed straight for the fair, unlike many of the locals who apparently decided to stay home.
Finding Astrid's tent again was no problem, and this time both brothers entered, hoping to get this mess over with so that they could go home.
When Astrid appeared, Dean observed his brother's entire demeanor changed. His mood was lighter, he smiled more easily and even laughed when she made a joke at his expense as he related the tale of how they had found the spear and killed Até.
"I am impressed," she told them both when Sam had finished. "I did not think you would kill her so easily, and fighting off the spear's curse is even more amazing."
"Yeah, thanks for the warning on that," Dean said icily. She gave him a gentle smile.
"I told Sam everything I knew. Nobody has seen this spear in many centuries." She held out her hands and Sam placed the box gingerly on the table in front of her. She opened the crate and stared down at the spear with something approaching awe.
"Oh, it's true," she breathed. "My lord, it's true." She went to pick it up and Dean stepped forward in alarm.
"Woah, there. Last time someone picked this thing up, it tried to kill me. Let's be a little more careful, OK?" he exclaimed. She gave him an indulgent look.
"I am protected. There is no need to be afraid." She grasped the spear firmly and lifted it from the box, speaking aloud in her strange language. The spear glowed and then the light died. She bowed towards them both.
"My patron is well pleased. Thank you both for your efforts on our behalf. If you are willing, we may have more work for you soon." Dean exchanged a look with Sam.
"Uh, what kind of work?" he asked. She shook her head.
"It is not for me to say." She turned a smile on Sam that Dean couldn't interpret and he got the impression some kind of communication passed between them. Then she disappeared. Sam blinked.
"Wow," he said unnecessarily. He looked around the tent as if seeing it for the first time. "I guess that's our cue to leave." He ducked under the tent flap and Dean followed. Outside the rain had gotten heavier and Dean grimaced.
"Hey, there was a mead seller here last time. Wanna go check it out before we hit the road?" he asked with a hopeful grin.
"Was she pretty?" Sam laughed. Dean shrugged. "OK, fine. Let's go try it out."
The mead stall was by far the most popular stall at the fair today. Dean winked at the attractive woman in the tavern wench outfit, whose name turned out to be Lily. Sam predicted Dean would have her number before they got their drinks. But she was too busy to chat and so Dean had to content himself with a few flirtatious comments and leave it at that. Sam gave him a look.
"We can stick around if you wanna hook up with her later," he said generously. Dean shook his head.
"Nah. I'm ready to go home." He fingered the token Lily had given him, a strange carved wooden disk.
"What is that anyway?" Sam asked curiously. Dean frowned.
"I don't know. She said I might need it one day." Sam looked sharply at his brother.
"That's a strange thing to say. Is it magical, or cursed?" Dean offered it to Sam, who inspected it closely. "We should get Cas to check it out," he said finally. Dean looked uncomfortable but nodded in agreement.
"Come on. This weather's only getting worse, and we've got a long way to go."
Sam eyed his brother with a degree of amusement. Dean seemed very keen to get back to the bunker, and so they had driven almost non-stop since they'd left Pennsylvania. But enough was enough, Sam needed to stretch his legs and get something to eat.
"We need to stop, Dean," Sam told his brother. "We gotta eat and we must be getting low on gas." Dean squinted at the fuel gauge.
"Yeah, all right. There was a sign a few miles back for a rest area. It should be coming up soon. Let's see what they have to offer."
The rest stop had a diner called Denise's and the price of gas wasn't too bad. Sam ordered a salad and Dean ordered a cheeseburger. Sam smiled to himself. Him and Dean had been through a few rough years but there were few constants in their lives and this was one of them. Though as he poked at the sad looking salad, he rather wished he'd ordered a burger too.
"So, that case was weird," he said carefully.
"You're telling me!" Dean garbled through a mouthful of french fries. "I mean we've done ancient Gods and Goddesses before, remember Veritas?"
"How could I forget?" Sam said sarcastically.
"And y'know, weird cursed weapons, not entirely out of our wheelhouse." Dean continued. Sam nodded.
"But, still. Weird. What was the deal with you and that Astrid chick?"
"I don't know what you mean," Sam frowned.
"Oh come on man!" Dean exclaimed, spitting bits of hamburger everywhere. Sam grimaced. "It was like you were a different person when she was around. Did you two bang or something last time?"
"What? No!" Sam denied.
"Seriously? OK. But you two had a weird vibe, man." Dean said. He popped the last of his burger into his mouth and chewed contemplatively.
"I still don't know what you mean." Sam told him.
"It's hard to explain," Dean said. "You just seemed… happier, calmer, I dunno. Different."
"You're imagining things," Sam said firmly.
"Yeah? And what about Cas?" Dean said triumphantly, like he held the final ace.
"What about him?" Sam asked, now thoroughly confused. What the Hell was Dean getting at here?
"He went all weird when I mentioned Astrid's name. Like he knew her. I called him on it, he denied it. Kinda. Said he knew of an Astrid once, but that it couldn't be the same one. Chick was long dead. Like centuries."
"Well, sometimes names can develop an association. Like how you don't trust anyone called Caleb. No reason, totally random bad association with a name."
"I have a reason," Dean said quietly.
"No you don't. You knew one Caleb who was a son of a bitch? OK, but that hardly taints them all by association."
"Moving on," Dean said quickly. "Astrid. We know anything about her?" Sam looked at his brother for a moment, weighing whether to press further or let it go. He backed off.
"Not really. Other than her name, which may not even be her name by the way, the only other thing we know is she has power and she has a sponsor of some kind. Is she human? No idea. I didn't test her. Her patron probably isn't, I'd say pagan god, demon, something powerful certainly."
"Maybe," Dean reflected.
"Also, there something else," Sam added. "When we were fighting Até, I saw something. Like out of the corner of my eye. A shadow. I'm sure it's what knocked the statue into my lap. And later, when I was holding the spear, something grabbed my arm. It was how I was able to drop it. It felt cold but powerful. Like electricity and ice. Sorry, that's not very descriptive."
"You think it's related to Astrid's patron?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.
"Honestly, I've no idea. But the whole case was almost like a set up. Except we're OK." He pushed the remains of his salad away and stole a french fry off Dean's plate.
"So maybe it was a test?" Dean proposed. Sam stared at him.
"I hope not."
It was very late when they finally got back to the bunker. Sam clapped his brother on the shoulder and headed off to bed. Dean was too wired to sleep just yet. No doubt Cas would be around somewhere. It wasn't that he needed to see him or anything. But having somebody to chat to would be nice. He strolled into the library, and was rewarded with the sight of the angel, head bowed over a book. Cas looked up as he walked in.
"Dean," he said happily. "I'm glad you're back." Dean scratched at his stubble uncomfortably.
"Hey, Cas. What's happening?"
"Not very much. I am progressing well with this translation," the angel told him.
"Good. That's good. Uh. So, this case in Pennsylvania. I wish you'd been there." Cas looked away and Dean's instincts pricked up. "Cas?"
"I'm sorry, Dean. But I think it was for the best that I was here, working on this." Cas said diffidently. Dean stared at him.
"Well, OK. Look, someone gave me this. Sam was worried it might be cursed or whatever. Do you want to take a look at it?" He pulled the wooden token out of his pocket and handed it to Cas. The angel examined it closely.
"Interesting," he said. "It's Irish. Made of yew. It's quite old. Maybe third century." He turned it over in his hands. "It's an offering."
"Is it a coin?" Dean asked. Cas shook his head.
"Not exactly, it's made of wood after all."
"I don't know, maybe people had wooden coins in olden times!" Dean defended. Cas grinned at him.
"No. Coins were made of valuable things, metals mostly. Even in 'olden times'," he laughed. "This is a symbolic offering. I'd say for…" the angel broke off, his cheeks reddening. "Sex." Dean choked and Cas blinked at him.
"Are you saying it's some sort of fertility token?" he gasped. Cas narrowed his eyes.
"No. This has nothing to do with fecundity. More like a uh…" Cas swallowed. "A lovers ritual to enhance sexual pleasure."
"Huh," Dean said. "I guess that didn't work out so well for her."
"Her?" Cas said mildly, although he seemed strained.
"What? Oh, just the chick who gave me this. Said I might need it one day." Dean said easily, desperate to ignore the sudden tension in the room.
"I see," Cas said evenly. Dean felt like the temperature in the room had dropped by twenty degrees.
"It wasn't anything," he said defensively, wondering why he felt the need to explain himself. "She gave it to me to convince me to stop by the mead stall at the fair. That's all."
"I rather doubt that," Cas said tightly. Dean huffed out a breath.
"Look, hold onto it if you're worried," he said. "I don't care." The angel seemed mollified by this and tucked it into a pocket.
"So, anyway," Dean said, changing the subject. "Astrid and the spear. She took it away with her. I'd like to say I'm sorry, but after Sam nearly skewered me with it, I wasn't sorry to let it go."
"It's strange," Cas commented after a moment's thought. "The spear of Diomedes has a lot of lore about it. But nothing mentions any of the things you and Sam encountered. I wonder…"
"What?" Dean demanded. "What is it?"
"I wonder if it is the spear of Diomedes at all." Cas admitted.
"It was found in Greece. And it did gank Até."
"That's true. But still, it's odd. It reminds me of something else." The angel gazed at Dean. "You look tired."
"Yeah, I guess I'm ready to hit the sack. See you in the morning." Dean said and ambled off to bed. The angel watched him go.
Sam liked being up first. Of course, when you lived with an angel who literally didn't sleep, up first was relative. But wandering into the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee, toasting a bagel, simple comforting rituals in a life with far too few comforts were to be cherished. He sipped appreciatively at his mug, this Guatemalan blend that had been on special offer at the grocery store was really good.
Sam wasn't given much to might have beens. His life might have been different to this, he'd tried so hard and for so long to be normal. But he'd accepted years ago that normal simply wasn't on the cards. Still, he yearned for something more. Casual hookups in the back of the Impala or in sleazy motels were all very well. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to be with. It wasn't about sex, it was about companionship, love even. Not that Sam considered himself very lovable. The idea of sustaining a relationship with the life he led seemed laughable. He was jerked out of his reverie by the appearance of his brother.
"Hey Sammy," Dean said blearily.
"Morning," Sam replied. "I got another case for us." Dean arched an eyebrow at him.
"Already? You're keen." Sam looked down at the floor. "You OK, Sam?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"No reason," Dean said easily. "Just thought you might wanna chill for a day or two before heading out again."
"I… I just came across something that caught my eye. I'd like to check it out. I can go on my own, see if it's really our sort of thing first if you want?" Sam offered. Dean eyed him carefully.
"Tell me about it first," he decided. Sam smiled.
"OK, so there's been this rumor about a serial killer for years. The Trio Killer. Lots of websites online dedicated to him. The killings are always the same, three young men around college age. One is drowned, one is hanged and the third is decapitated. Officially the FBI say he doesn't exist, that people have linked unrelated cases together." Dean held up a hand.
"Seriously, Sam? Your weird-ass hobby again?" Sam coughed.
"No. Look, yeah, I've been following it for a long time, sure. But I got something now which I think makes it one of ours. The Trio Killer's been quiet for about five years. Nobody knows why. Until now, a set of three deaths in Knoxville, Tennessee." Dean folded his arms over his chest.
"I'm still not seeing how this makes it one of ours," he said impatiently.
"Hold on, I'm getting there." Sam told him. "Reed Malone Blake, twenty-one years old. Senior at University of Tennessee in Knoxville. At a house party of a friend, drowns in the bathtub. Nobody knows why he was in there. His best friend, Hugh Nelson is in a wreck just two hours later driving home from the hospital where they'd taken Blake. Local PD called it a freak accident, he leaves the highway and flips the car, ends up hanged by his own seatbelt." Dean grimaced at that. "Then, finally Lon Hilary Brock pops out for a cigarette and is decapitated by a sheet of steel that blew off the construction site of the new hospital wing."
"How is that even possible?" Dean demanded. Sam shrugged.
"No idea. But you see how it fits the pattern, yet these are not murders, except maybe the first death."
"It all sounds a bit Final Destination to me," Dean pointed out grumpily.
"Exactly! That's the thing, when stuff like this happens how often is it just a coincidence?" Sam asked triumphantly.
"OK, so what's your theory?" Dean said finally, unwilling to admit he was interested but unable to resist.
"What if the reason the Trio Killer stopped five years ago is because he died? And now he's killing again?" Dean shook his head.
"No dice, Sammy. He dies and then just what, hangs out for five years before killing again?" Dean objected.
"Well, we know that it takes time to learn how to manipulate stuff, right. And maybe he didn't die five years ago, but was sick or injured and then died. Add in a little time to get the hang of the whole ghost trick, and then start up again exactly where he left off." Dean sighed.
"Yeah, OK. I guess that could make sense. If it is a ghost though, how is he able to affect three people in three separate locations? I mean, if he's linked to an object, how did it go from the house, to the kid's car to the hospital?" Sam's shoulders slumped.
"I haven't figured that out yet. Maybe the timeline's wrong." Dean rubbed the back of his neck.
"OK, fine. Let me go talk to Cas and then we'll hit the road." Sam grinned at his brother.
"Yeah, good. I'll go load up the car."