Sam was always a lighter sleeper than Dean. Not that Dean wasn't a light sleeper- you couldn't afford to be a deep sleeper as a hunter- but Sam always seemed to wake up at the slightest noise a lot easier than Dean did. Which was why when Dean's phone started buzzing incessantly on the nightstand, it woke Sam up first. "Dean," he called over to his brother. Dean didn't respond, so Sam reached over and answered the call himself. "Hello?"

"Sam is that you?"

Sam was suddenly wide awake, sitting up in bed in surprise. "Dad? Are you hurt?" he asked. "I'm fine," John replied. "We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were, if you were okay." Dean started to stir slightly as John answered. "Sammy, I'm alright. What about you and Dean?" Sam swallowed hard, looking over at his brother and niece. The fact that John hadn't mentioned her didn't go unnoticed by him. "We're fine. Dad, where are you?"

Dean sat up in bed, careful not to wake Mack, as he started paying closer attention to Sam's side of the conversation. "Sorry, kiddo, I can't tell you that," John told Sam. "What? Why not?" Sam demanded. "Is that Dad?" Dean hissed at Sam, but was ignored. "Look, I know this is hard for you to understand," John said. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

"You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mom?"

"Yeah. It's a demon, Sam."

"A demon? You know for sure?" Dean frowned, putting his shirt on. "A demon? What's he saying?" Again, Sam ignored him, listening to John's voice on the other end instead. "I do. Listen, Sammy, I, uh... I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I'm so sorry. I would've done anything to protect you from that." Sam swallowed again, a twinge of pain going through his chest. "You know where it is?" he asked. "Yeah, I think I'm finally closing in on it," John confirmed.

"Let us help."

"You can't," John protested. "You can't be any part of it." Sam scowled. "Why not?" Dean held his hand out to Sam. "Give me the phone." Sam ignored him, jaw set as John continued. "Listen, Sammy, that's why I'm calling. You and your brother, you gotta stop looking for me. Alright, now, I need you to write down these names."

"Names? What names- Dad, talk to me, tell me what's going on," Sam begged. "Look, we don't have time for this. This is bigger than you think, they're everywhere. Even us talking right now, it's not safe."

"No. Alright? No way."

"Give me the phone," Dean demanded again. "I have given you an order," John growled in Sam's ear. "Now, you stop following me, and you do your job. You understand me? Now, take down these names." Dean swiped the phone away from Sam, standing up. "Dad, it's me. Where are you?... Yes, sir... Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are the names?" Over on the bed, Sam was fuming silently.

"Alright, so the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?" Sam asked. He was driving the Impala while Dean sat in the passenger seat, looking through missing persons posters of all the people John had told them about along with other research about the area they disappeared in. "Three different couples. All went missing," Dean confirmed. "And they're all from different towns? Different states?"

"That's right," Dean nodded. "You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again." Sam was getting more and more agitated as the conversation continued. "Well, it's a big country, Dean. They could've disappeared anywhere."

"Yeah, could've. But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another."

"This is the second week of April."

"Yep."

"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?" Dean nodded, smiling a little. "Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master." Sam's frustration peaked, and he pulled the Impala over to the side of the road. Dean looked up from the papers in his lap in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"We're not going to Indiana," Sam answered. "We're not?" Dean asked. "No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone, Sacramento area code." Dean groaned in frustration. "Sam." The younger Winchester was persistent. "Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be there. We've gotta help."

"Dad doesn't want our help," Dean pointed out. "I don't care," Sam replied stubbornly. "He's given us an order," Dean continued. "I don't care," Sam repeated more firmly. "We don't always have to do what he says."

"Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it's important," Dean tried to reason with his brother. "Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I'm talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge."

"Alright, look, I know how you feel."

"Do you?" Sam snapped. Dean didn't reply, shocked at Sam's tone. "How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died five months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?" Dean swallowed, continuing in a slightly softer tone. "Dad said it wasn't safe. For any of us. I mean, he obviously knows something we don't, so if he says stay away, we stay away."

"I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man," Sam huffed. "I mean, it's like you don't even question him."

"Yeah, it's called being a good son!" Dean yelled, unable to control his anger. Of course Sam wouldn't understand Dean's need to follow John's orders to the letter. Because it was true- that was what being a good son had come to mean growing up. If Dean disobeyed, got even one toe out of line, there were consequences. Punishments. He never understood why John seemed to favor Sam over himself, even when Sam started questioning things and wanting to go off and do his own thing.

If Dean had tried to leave like Sam had when he went off to college, he would have gotten a lot more than a few scathing words shouted at his back. Sam really had no idea how lucky he was to be the Golden Child, the one who could do no wrong even when he got out of line. He didn't see how John had taken out all his anger on Dean later that night after he ditched. Had no idea just how much of a monster John became when drunk.

Sam got out of the car, angrily, circling around to the trunk. Dean also climbed out, continuing to rant angrily. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks." Sam paused unloading his things from the trunk to glare over at him. "That's what you really think?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California." He put his backpack on and started walking away. "Come on, you're not serious," Dean said, heading after him. "I am serious," Sam replied, not looking back. "It's the middle of the night! Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?" Sam stopped, turning back to look at him. "That's what I want you to do." They both stared at each other for a long moment. "Goodbye, Sam."

Dean shut the trunk, climbing back into the car and taking off. Sam watched him go, then started walking in the opposite direction.

The next morning, Dean pulled into Burkittsville, stopping along the side of the road. He took out his phone, selecting 'Sam Mobile' and then paused. Instead of making the call, he shut his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. "Alright, bug. Let's see if we can find out what's taking these folks," he muttered. He climbed out of the car, getting Mack out of her car seat and putting her in the hiking backpack instead.

He headed over to Scotty's Café, where an old man was sitting in a chair on the porch. "Let me guess," Dean said, pointing at the sign then at the man. "Scotty." The man looked up at the sign, nodding. "Yep." Dean smiled. "Hi, my name's John Bonham." Scotty frowned. "Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?" Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. Good. Classic rock fan."

"What can I do for you, John?" Scotty asked. Dean took out the missing persons posters for the latest disappearing couple, Holly and Vince Parker. "I was wondering if, uh, you'd seen these people by chance?" Scotty took the flyers, studying the pictures for a moment. "Nope. Who are they?" He looked up at Dean. "Friends of mine. They went missing about a year ago. They passed through somewhere around here, and I've already asked around Scottsburg and Salem-"

"Sorry," Scotty cut him off, handing back the flyers. "We don't get many strangers around here." Dean nodded, folding up the posters and putting them back in his pocket. "Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?" Scotty stared at him strangely and Dean chuckled self-consciously. "Never mind. See you around." He headed off, going into the general store to see if he would have better luck there.

"You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?" he asked the owners when he showed them the flyers. Harley showed them to his wife, Stacy, who shook her head. "Nope, don't remember 'em," Harley said. "You said they were friends of yours?" Dean nodded. "That's right." Just then, Emily came downstairs carrying some boxes. "Did the guy have a tattoo?" she asked. "Yes, he did," Dean answered. She set down the boxes, looking at the picture of Vince.

"You remember? They were just married," Emily addressed her aunt and uncle. "You're right," Harley realized. "They did stop for gas. Weren't here for more than ten minutes." Dean hummed, nodding. "You remember anything else?" Harley frowned, thinking. "I told 'em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town."

"Could you point me in that same direction?"

"Sure."

Dean got Mack strapped back into her car seat, heading in the direction Harley pointed him to. As they were passing an orchard, a noise suddenly started up in the back seat. "What the hell?" he asked. He pulled over, twisting around to go through his duffel on the seat beside Mack. He took out his EMF reader, which was beeping frantically. "That can't be good."

He got out with Mack, using the EMF reader to guide him through the orchard. They got to a clearing where a giant scarecrow was hanging on a post. "Dude, you fugly," he said, looking up at it. He noticed something on the scarecrow's arm, grabbing a ladder and climbing up to get a closer look. When he moved aside the scarecrow's sleeve, it revealed a tattoo on its arm that looked exactly like the one Vince had. He pulled out Vince's poster, comparing them just to make sure.

"Nice tat."

Dean pulled back into the gas station outside the general store. Emily was standing by the pumps. "You're back," she said. "Never left," he replied. "Still looking for your friends?" Dean nodded in confirmation. "You mind fillin' her up, Emily?" he asked. She grabbed a pump, starting to fill up the Impala's tank. "So you grew up here?" he asked, making small talk. "I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in."

"They're nice people."

"Everybody's nice here."

"So, what, it's the, uh, perfect little town?" he pressed. "Well, you know, it's the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it's almost like we're blessed." Dean nodded, filing every bit of information he learned away for later. "Hey, you ever been out to the orchard? Seen that scarecrow?" Emily shuddered. "Yeah, it creeps me out." Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Whose is it?"

"I don't know. It's just always been there." Dean nodded over to a red car parked by the garage. "That your aunt and uncle's?" Emily shook her head. "Customer. Had some car troubles," she corrected him. "It's not a couple is it? Guy and a girl?" She nodded. "Mmhmm." Once the Impala was full, Dean headed to Scotty's Café where the couple was getting handed pie by Scotty.

"Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?" Dean asked him. "Oh, and some of that pie, too, while you're at it." He sat down at the table next to the couple, putting the hiking backpack containing Mack on the floor beside him. "How ya doin'?" he asked them. They smiled, waving. "Just passing through?"

"Road trip," the woman answered. "Hm. Yeah, me too." The couple nodded as Scotty walked over and refilled their cider. "I'm sure these people want to eat in peace," he told Dean. "Just a little friendly conversation," Dean said. Scotty started walking away. "Oh, and that coffee, too, man. Thanks." Dean turned his focus back to the couple. "So, what brings you to town?"

"We just stopped for gas," the woman explained. "And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives." Dean raised his eyebrows. "Is that right?" The man nodded. "Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us." Dean tried to mask his concern. "Nice people."

"Yeah."

"So, how long till you're up and running?" Dean pressed. "Sundown," the man replied. "Really." Dean paused, thinking for a minute. "To fix a brake line?" The man nodded. "I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn't charge you anything."

"You know, thanks a lot, but I think we'd rather have a mechanic do it."

"Sure. I know." Dean paused again, glancing back in the direction Scotty had disappeared. "You know, it's just that these roads. They're not real safe at night." The couple exchanged a confused look. "I'm sorry?" the woman asked slowly. "I know it sounds strange, but, uh- you might be in danger." The woman looked nervous, but the man just looked annoyed.

"Look, we're trying to eat. Okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded disappointedly. "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you'd just buy right into it." Just then, the bell above the door jingled and someone walked in as Scotty re-emerged from the back room. "Thanks for coming, sheriff," he greeted the newcomer. He whispered something in the sheriff's ear and they both looked over at Dean, who looked away and became fascinated with helping Mack. The sheriff walked over to him. "I'd like a word, please."

"Come on. I'm already having a bad day," Dean complained, looking up at him. "You know what would make it worse?" the sheriff asked. Dean just nodded, and ten minutes later he had the sheriff's car following him down the interstate to make sure he left town. When he was an acceptable distance away, the sheriff turned around and headed back to Burkittsville.

As Dean was driving back to Burkittsville that night, he spotted the couple's car broken down on the side of the road next to the orchard. He grabbed a shotgun, running into the trees, trying to find the couple. He ran into them at a clearing. "Get back to your car," he ordered. The couple glanced behind them as the scarecrow from before approached, getting closer. "Go! Go!" The couple ran away as Dean cocked his gun, shooting the scarecrow. It stumbled, but kept advancing.

Dean started running, cocking the gun again and shooting. The scarecrow didn't seem affected by the rounds, continuing its pursuit. Dean tried a third time with the same result. Dean and the couple finally exited the tree line, coming to a stop just short of the two cars. Dean turned, pointing the gun at the trees, but the scarecrow seemed to have disappeared.

"What- what was that?" the man panted.

"Don't ask," Dean answered. He looked at the couple's car, getting them up and running once more. They swore never to come anywhere near Burkittsville ever again and then he was left alone with Mack. Figuring it was too late to head the rest of the way into town, Dean got back into the Impala to camp out for the night. After checking on Mack, he settled into the front street, stretching out with his back against the door. He took out his phone, pausing on Sam's name again, and then sucked it up and made the call.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Dean? It's the middle of the night," Sam answered. "Yeah, well... it's been quite the day," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah? How's the case going?" Dean took a deep breath, launching into the story of everything that had happened since he and Mack got to town. "The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun town," Dean joked.

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?"

"No. I can cope without you, you know."

"So, something must be animating it. A spirit," Sam suggested. "No, it's more than a spirit," Dean explained, "it's a god. A Pagan god, anyway." He could practically see the confusion on Sam's face. "What makes you say that?" he asked. "The annual cycle of killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman," Dean pointed out. "Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin' 'em up like a Christmas turkey."

"The last meal," Sam stated gravely. "Given to sacrificial victims." Dean nodded, glancing back at the backseat as Mack made a noise in her sleep. "Yeah, I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god."

"So, a god possesses a scarecrow..."

"And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and disease won't spread," Dean finished. "Do you know what god you're dealing with?" Sam asked. "No, not yet," Dean sighed. "Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it."

"I know. I'm actually on my way to a local community college. I've got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don't have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research." Sam laughed. "You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask," he said. "I'm not hinting anything," Dean answered, rolling his eyes. "Actually, uh- I want you to know... I mean, don't think..."

"Yeah," Sam interrupted. "I'm sorry, too." There was a moment of silence where neither of them spoke, and then Dean pressed on. "Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life." Dean held his breath when Sam didn't respond right away. "Are you serious?" the younger Winchester breathed. "You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I- anyway... I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll take care of yourself."

"I will. And you be careful. You have a kid to worry about." Dean smiled, looking back at Mack again. "I know. You call me when you find Dad."

"Okay. Bye, Dean." He hung up, reaching over the seat to brush some of Mack's hair out of her face. "Night, bug," he whispered, hunkering down in the front.

Mack was holding onto Dean's fingers with her fist, her rabbit clutched tightly in her other arm as she toddled along at his side. They were at the community college meeting with the professor, and Dean had forgone the hiking backpack for once. "It's not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology," the professor said, leading them into his office. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby," Dean replied. "But you said you were interested in local lore?"

"Mmhmm."

"I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its Pagan worship," the professor frowned. "Well, what if it was imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?" The professor nodded. "Well, yeah."

"Da da, up," Mack said. He reached down, scooping her into his arms as he continued talking to the professor. "Like that town near here, Burkittsville. Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia."

"What could you tell me about those Pagan gods?" Dean asked, adjusting his grip on Mack. The professor frowned again, going to grab a book from the shelf. "Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses." Dean nodded. "I'm actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard." The professor brought the book over to the desk, putting it down and opening it. "Woods god, hm? Well, let's see."

He flipped through the pages, Dean watching over his shoulder. He noticed one page that showed a picture of what looked like a scarecrow on a post surrounded by farmers in a field. "Wait, wait, wait. What's that one?" he asked. "Oh, that's not a woods god, per se," the professor said. "The V-Vanir?" Dean read aloud, looking at the professor for confirmation he read it correctly. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female." He pointed at the picture. "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

"I suppose," the professor mused. "This particular Vanir gets energy sprung from the sacred tree?" The professor nodded. "Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic," he informed him. "So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?" Dean asked. The professor laughed. "Son these are just legends we're discussing."

"Oh, of course. Yeah, you're right. Listen, thank you very much."

Dean shook the professor's hand. "Glad I can help." Dean moved to the door, finding himself at the end of a rifle when he opened it. He set Mack down, reflexively grabbing the rifle and trying to fight off the sheriff, who was holding it. The sheriff managed to hit him in the face with the butt of the rifle and his world went dark.

Dean came to in an underground cellar. "Bug? Mack!" he yelled, looking around. She was nowhere to be seen. Just then, the door to the cellar opened and Stacy and Harley were standing there. Harley was holding Emily, forcing her down into the cellar with Dean. Stacy was holding Mack. "Aunt Stacy. Uncle Harley, please," Emily begged. "Mack!" Dean yelled up.

"Da da!" she called back. Harley brought Emily down the stairs, leaving her with Dean and heading back up to stand with his wife and Mack. "Why are you doing this?" Emily asked. "For the common good," Stacy replied. Harley shut the door, plunging Dean and Emily into darkness. "No! Mack!" Dean yelled again, hurrying up the stairs. He started trying to break open the door. "I don't understand," Emily said. "They're gonna kill us?"

"Sacrifice us. Which is, I don't know, classier, I guess?" Dean headed back down the stairs over to her. "You really didn't know anything about this, did you?" Emily frowned. "About what? The scarecrow god? Not until my aunt and uncle dragged me out here to this cellar. I can't believe this."

"Well, you better start believing, 'cause I'm gonna need your help."

"Okay."

"Now, we can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree."

"What tree?" Emily asked. "Maybe you can help me with that. It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred." Emily nodded. "There was this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree."

"Is it in the orchard?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where." Just then, the cellar door opened again, and the four elders were standing at the entrance. "It's time," Stacy announced, still holding Mack. The elders guided Dean and Emily to two trees, tying them up. "How many people have you killed, Sheriff?" Dean asked. "How much blood is on your hands?"

"We don't kill them," the Sheriff replied. "No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?" The Sheriff turned, walking away. Off to the side, Mack was squirming in Stacy's arms, trying to get down and to her father. "Da da!"

"It's okay, bug," he told her. "Uncle Harley, please," Emily begged as he tightened the ropes securing her to the tree. "I am so sorry, Em. I wish it wasn't you." Stacy chimed in. "Try to understand. It's our responsibility. And there's just no other choice. There's nobody else but you."

"I'm your family."

"Sweetheart, that's what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one." The four elders walked away with Mack, who continued to yell for Dean. "I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!" Dean yelled, freaking out. He had to escape and get Mack back. "So, what's the plan?" Emily asked.

"I'm workin' on it." Several hours passed and it started to get dark. "You don't have a plan, do you?" Emily asked again. "I'm workin' on it," Dean snapped, panicked. "Can you see?" Emily frowned. "What?" Dean nodded behind him. "Is he moving yet?" Emily strained to look, falling back against the trunk. "I can't see," she answered. A shadow moved and she started to freak out as it got closer. "Oh my God. Oh my God!" Sam emerged from behind the trees. "Dean?"

"Oh!" Dean laughed, grinning. "Oh, I take back everything I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on." Sam started untying his brother. "How'd you get here?" Sam smirked a little. "I, uh- I stole a car." Dean laughed again. "Haha! That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?"

Dean scrambled to his feet, spotting the empty post that the scarecrow previously occupied. After getting Emily free, they took off running through the orchard, filling Sam in. "Alright, now, this sacred tree you're talking about-" Sam began. "It's the source of its power," Dean explained. "So let's find it and burn it." Dean shook his head. "Nah, in the morning. Right now, we gotta get Mack and shag ass before Leather Face catches up." They got to a clearing, finding their way blocked by the townsfolk. "This way."

They turned back to find themselves surrounded. Stacy was holding Mack's hand, who was tugging to get away from her. "Da da! 'Ammy!"

"Give her back," Dean snarled. "We'll take good care of her," Stacy assured him. "Please. Let us go," Emily begged. "It'll be over quickly, I promise," Harley told her. "Please," she repeated. "Emily, you have to let him take you," Stacy said. "You have to-" She stopped talking mid sentence as the scarecrow's sickle speared through Harley's stomach. She and Stacy both screamed and Stacy let go of Mack's hand in surprise. Mack ran over to her father and uncle, Sam scooping her into his arms and burying her face in his shoulder.

The scarecrow grabbed Stacy as well, and Emily ran into Dean's arms as her aunt and uncle were dragged away. The rest of the townsfolk ran away in fear. "Come on. Let's go," Dean said. He, Sam, and Emily started running again. They heard a noise behind them and turned around, but the scarecrow and its victims had vanished.

The next morning, the Winchesters returned to the orchard with Emily. She helped them track down the First Tree and burned it herself. When they were done, they took her to the bus station so she could head to Boston for a fresh start. After seeing her off, they headed back to the Impala. Dean was holding Mack, not wanting to let her go after what had happened.

"Think she's gonna be alright?" Sam asked, staring after the retreating bus. "I hope so," Dean said. "And the rest of the townspeople, they'll just get away with it?" The elder Winchester shrugged. "Well, what'll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough. So, can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No, I think you're stuck with me."

The brothers stared at each other over the top of the car. "What made you change your mind?" Dean asked. "I didn't. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass." Dean nodded. "But, Jess and Mom- they're both gone," Sam continued. "Dad is God knows where. You, me, and Kinley. We're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together." Dean paused.

"Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful." He put his free hand on Sam's shoulder, and he hit it away, both of them laughing. "You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude," Sam said, pointing at Dean. "Yeah, right. I had a plan, I'd have gotten out." Dean got Mack situated in her car seat. "Right," Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. They smiled at each other, climbing in their spots and taking off once more.