I just don't wanna be lonely
Cause the lights, were shining ever so bright
In my hand there's a pulse of my beating heart
Biting my tongue there's a plastic man on the telephone
Can you see the bright light? Shining, I dont know
Can you see the bright light? Shining, shining, shining
I saw a UFO and nobody believes me
I was sixteen miles from home with nobody in sight
I saw a UFO but nobody believes me
And Whats it gonna take to be back home tonight
CLAP YOUR HANDS IF YOU BELIEVE
Elwood, Indiana
We'd landed in Indiana this week due to four missing persons. Not that this was something being well reported given the hype over so-called UFO sightings and crop circles, but that was why we were here - everyone else had their own reasons.
I was currently interviewing an average man with a receding hairline, narrow face, dark eyes and flat nose in his mid-fifties or thereabouts, holding a digital recorder in the air.
"My name is Wayne Whitaker Jnr," he said to me as I shifted from one uncomfortable foot to another, silently cursing myself for having worn my new pair of boots today, instead of the old worn in set.
"I have personally recorded dozens of eyewitness accounts, strange lights in the sky, mysterious presences attempting to make contact," he continued, nodding at me. I paused in my note taking and smiled encouragingly.
"And that's why you're here?"
"I'm here because I believe Elwood, Indiana has become a centre of extraterrestrial activity," he said with a short nod. "We are right in the middle of what we in the field like to call a 'UFO flap', and I am as happy as a pig in shoes," he grinned at me.
I couldn't help but return the smile, his enthusiasm, although crazy, was infectious. I flipped my notebook closed and thanked Wayne for his time, and let him know that if he had any further information about the four disappearances in town, he could look us up.
Across the road, Dean and Sam were talking to a short, round lady with grey hair piled atop her head. Dean caught me looking and rolled his eyes at me before returning his attention to the woman in front of him, smiling indulgently at her.
I waited for a car to pass then jogged across the road, coming up behind the lady as she continued to talk to the boys.
"Of course it's not UFO's," she scoffed, looking from Dean to Sam. "It's fairies!"
"Fairies?" Dean asked, his mouth dropping open slightly. She nodded profusely at him and I could see him working hard to keep it together.
"Okay, well, thank you for your input," Dean nodded at her, writing down something in his notepad and then closing it. Next to him, our brother was less helpful.
"What? Flying saucers not insane enough for you?" He asked the woman, who gasped at the directness of his question.
"What newspaper did you say you worked for?" She asked.
"Okay, if you want to add glitter to that glue you're sniffing, that's fine, but don't dump your whackadoo all over us," Sam continued, waving his hand dismissively in the air. "We'd rather not step in it."
"Okay, we're, we're done," Dean said with a frown, turning to grab Sam's arm and pull him away.
"The only thing you're missing is a couple dozen cats, sister," Sam finished as Dean dragged him down the sidewalk and away from the stunned older lady who spluttered in disbelief at how rude Sam had been.
"It's a … blood sugar… thing. My apologies," Dean said weakly before he spun Sam around and started walking quickly in the other direction. I chuckled and hurried around the woman, jogging to catch up to the boys and slip my hand into Dean's as I reached them.
"What?" Sam asked, completely oblivious to his behaviour.
"What? You gotta ask?" Dean questioned, then shook his head at the statement. "Right, yes, you do have to ask."
"Look, I'm sorry, but this is all a big joke, right, and we're not actually taking this UFO crap seriously are we?" Sam said.
"No, man," Dean said, shaking his head. "ET is made of rubber. Everybody knows that. But there are four legitimate vanishings in this town. Something's going on." He started to lead us across the road toward where we'd left the Impala, slowing down to let a car pass.
"And Sam? By the way, it's not the lady's fault that she took the brown acid," Dean added, getting a confused look from Sam.
"Yeah! So?"
"Empathy, man. Empathy!" Dean said as we crossed the road. "I mean, old Sam would have given her some, some wussified, dew-eyed crap."
We even had a name for it - Sam's puppy-dog eyes.
"Old Sam had a soul - was a soul. Whatever," our brother countered.
"Right!" Dean agreed, nodding. "Yes, and, and, but you don't - aren't…. Whatever!"
"Right," Sam agreed.
"Right. You don't care," Dean reminded himself. I squeezed his hand and let go, moving ahead of them a little.
"But Sam, you need to care," I cut in.
"About what, exactly?" Sam asked as we all paused by the car.
"About everything, man!" Dean said. "About being human at least."
"Look, guys, you obviously care, a lot. And that's great. But I can't care about what - I can't … care about, you know? What do you want me to do, fake it?"
"Yes!" Dean nodded, grasping at this new admission. "Absolutely. Fake it. Fake it til you make it."
I had my doubts on that, but I couldn't see the harm in it.
"What happened to you wanting me to be all honest?"
"Hey, you wanna be a real boy Pinnochio, you gotta act the part," Dean said, moving to the driver side door of the car and looking across the roof at Sam.
"I was faking it, Dean! Ever since we got back on the road together, I was picking every freaking word. It's exhausting."
"Okay. All right. But until we get you back on the soul train, I'll be your conscience, okay?"
"Dean… is that…?" I started to say wise when Sam scoffed.
"So you're saying you'll be my… Jiminy Cricket?"
"Shut up," Dean snapped with a grimace. "But yeah, you freaking puppet. That's exactly what I'm saying!"
He ended the conversation by climbing into the front seat and closing the door behind him. I groaned internally at the whole conversation and let myself into the back seat, flashing Dean a smile as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
"So where to now, Giuseppe?" I asked, and he snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Brennan's Watchworks," he replied. "Let's see what we can find out about our vics."
Brennan's Watchworks
The workshop was like a moment trapped in time. We entered the workroom straight from the front door, and seated at a table wearing glasses with microscopes attached to them was an older man. His silver hair was brushed neatly backwards, exposing a high forehead with horizontal worry lines. He was dressed in a striped blue shirt with a knitted brown cardigan, and peered intensely at a watch in his hand as we walked inside.
"Mr Brennan?" Dean asked, breaking the man's concentration.
"Hmm?"
"We're with The Mirror," Sam explained, walking down a set of steps to the desk. "We would like to ask you-"
"What?" The man asked shortly, taking off his glasses. "Is this about Patrick?"
We nodded. He sighed and turned back to the work at his table.
"Patrick's gone."
"Missing," Dean nodded. "Right. Yes, that's what we want to talk to you about." The man paid us no heed, putting his magnifying glasses back on and picking up his tools.
"Now, your son was the first to disappear," Sam said, unfazed, whipping out his notebook and looking at the man.
"First to be taken," Mr Brennan corrected him.
Dean looked curiously at me and I shrugged.
"Taken," Sam concurred.
The man stopped what he was doing again, placing his glasses carefully on the table and turned, scowling.
"Get out!" He said, pushing past us and walking up the steps toward the door. "Out!"
Dean hurried after him.
"Mr Brennan," he asked, "who do you believe took your son?"
"You people can't help me," the watchmaker replied. "My boy is never coming back."
"You sound awfully sure," Sam cut in, stopping the man in his tracks.
"Excuse me?"
"Like you know something you're not talking about," Sam pushed.
"Dean," I whispered, my eyes widening.
"Okay, all right," Dean nodded, stepping up to Sam and giving him a warning glare.
"I'm sorry," I apologised, giving the man a reassuring smile.
The man sighed and looked at Sam, his eyes narrowing.
"You know what they say. 72 hours. After that, the odds of finding a missing person drops to nothing, right?" He said.
"Well, every case is different," I said softly, hoping he might give us more information.
"It's been weeks," Mr Brennan said, moving to stand back at his desk, his face crumpling with emotion.
I gestured for Dean to get Sam out of the room, while I walked up to Mr Brennan and handed him a business card with my number on it.
"We're sorry if we upset you," I said genuinely. "If anything comes to mind, anything at all, call us."
He took the number, staring down at it, and then finally nodded. I turned to hurry out on to the street and catch up to the boys.
"What do you think?" Sam asked when I reached them.
"Well, that was an interesting turn of phrase," I said, at least in agreement with Sam's thoughts, if not his delivery of them.
"I think he's hiding something," Dean agreed. "Sam, why don't you stay, and watch Watchmaker and see what happens when the sun goes down, and we'll go check out the crop circles."
"Okey dokey," Sam shrugged.
"But do not engage with, maim or in any way kill Brennan," Dean said, looking sternly at Sam who scoffed at the statement. "Actually, you know what, Beth, you stay with him. I don't want him making any judgment calls whatsoever."
Sam laughed, shaking his head. "You know, Jiminy, I was on my own for a whole year. I did fine without you."
"Yeah," Dean breathed. "I don't want to know your definition of fine."
He turned and started to make his way toward the Impala, I felt torn in two seeing him depart. I nodded at Sam, telling him I'd be right back, and hurried after Dean's retreating figure.
"Hey," I called out, jogging up to him as he reached the car. "Are you sure about this?"
"What? About Sam not making any judgment calls? Absolutely!"
"No, about going out alone to the corn fields, I don't know if we should be splitting up right now," I said, crossing my arms.
"Beth, come on, it's just a corn field - you know, old Joe and his drinking buddy out there with a board and rope, pulling everyone's legs."
"Well, we don't know that," I pointed out. "Something is definitely going on around here."
"Yeah, likely with Brennan given the way he was acting. You're more likely to see the action around here, not me."
I hesitated, knowing that I needed to pull myself together. We couldn't not separate on hunts, being able to cover more ground at the same time was essential to successfully figuring solving a case. We'd split up multiple times before and I'd never run after Dean in the street before.
"What's going on with you?" He asked, suddenly looking concerned.
"I dunno," I shrugged, glancing back at Sam who shrugged at us and then pointed at a diner across the street, walking toward it.
"Is RoboSam giving you the heebie jeebies?" Dean asked.
I followed his gaze toward our soulless brother and sighed.
"No!" I denied, then sucked in a breath. "Maybe, I don't know!"
Dean chuckled and moved to kiss me on the cheek.
"You'll be fine," he said, opening the door to the Impala and climbing in. "Just, try to relax, give him some empathy lessons while I'm gone. See if they have any pie?"
I laughed at the last sentence, feeling a little better for the ribbing, and nodded.
"Okay, okay, I'll check for damn pie," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I'll see you soon," Dean nodded, and then closed the door, turning the engine over.
I sucked in a breath and turned back toward the diner, steeling myself for the inevitable weird conversations with Sam that were sure to happen.
Later That Evening
Local Bar
We'd moved from the diner to the local bar when Brennan had closed up shop. I was now tucked into a booth, on my second beer, watching the man slowly drink himself to death. I thought about calling Dean, but resisted the urge, he didn't need us checking in on him.
Sam however, seemed to feel otherwise.
He had just ordered another drink from the pretty bartender, who he was flirting with, and when she went to fill the order he pulled out his phone and dialled - I realised after a moment that he'd called Dean.
"The only thing this guy is up to is alcoholism," he said once the phone was answered, pausing to listen to whatever Dean was saying on the other end.
"You know, maybe I should go talk to him again. I mean, you're the one who said he's hiding something."
I perked up at this, shaking my head at Sam who narrowed his eyes at me like he was going over my head to a superior.
"Cut that out," I said. "Give me the phone, let me talk to him."
I held out my hand but Sam shook his head.
"What?" He said sharply after a moment, frowning.
"You see something? Dean, what's up?"
I leaned forward, trying to hear Dean even though Sam had the phone up to his ear.
"What's going on?"
"Shhh," Sam growled at me. "Whoa!" He pulled the phone sharply away from his ear, grimacing, and then put it back.
"Dude, stop yelling, You're breaking up. I didn't catch that last part."
"Sam, give me the phone, now," I said, reaching for him but he leaned back out of reach.
"Close encounter! What kind? First? Second?"
I stood up, furious with Sam, and stepped out from the booth so I could get at the phone.
"Third kind already? You better run man, I think the fourth kind is a butt thing…"
I smacked Sam in the shoulder and grabbed the phone out his hand, putting it urgently to my ear.
Dean was shouting on the other end.
"Empathy, Sam! Empathy!"
"Dean? It's me, what's going on?" I said, stepping away from the booth as the waitress walked up to the table and handed Sam a drink. He smiled at her, and said a couple of words.
Was he flirting? Now?
"Dean?" I said when the phone went silent. "Are you there?" I couldn't hear anything and that sent alarm bells through me. "Dean?"
"Thanks," Sam said as the waitress smiled and walked off, trailing a seductive finger along his forearm.
"Really Sam?" I asked, looking at him.
"What?"
"Your brother was just screaming through the phone and you're picking up the waitress?" I asked.
"Pfft, Beth, you're over-reacting. I'm sure his phone just cut out because he's in the middle of nowhere, Dean will be back any minute. It's just kids playing a prank."
"This is not a prank, Sam!" I said, grabbing my jacket and sliding his phone back over the table at him. "Let's go."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?"
"Well, Dean told me to watch Brennan, and that's what I'm doing."
My eye started to twitch with the man's logic.
"You know what? What do I care? Stay here and watch Brennan, I'm going after Dean," I said, wondering at the same time just how I was going to do that. "But remember, do not talk to Brennan, observing only."
"Yeah yeah, whatever," Sam said, taking a drink out of his beer and sitting back to resume watching the Watchmaker.
I shook my head and hurried outside. Surely there was a car or motorbike I could steal?
It was the latter. Someone had parked their Ducati by the bar, and it didn't take much for me to find that they'd stupidly left a key in a magnetic key holder on the underside of the fuel tank. He'd regret doing that when he came out to find the bike gone. But for now, I was getting out of here, and going after Dean.
The ride out to the corn fields didn't take long. I parked by the road and returned the key to the holder. Maybe the owner would just think a UFO went for a joyride when he found it.
There were lights in the field, and I hurried toward them, finding the Impala empty, door open, still running with the headlights pointing to the centre of a crop circle.
"Dean?" I called out, spinning around to find nothing. I reached into the car and turned off the ignition and the lights, whipping my phone out to call him. "Come on, where are you?"
I didn't hear anything and went through to voicemail. I hung up and dialled again, holding my breath. If I stood really still I thought I could hear the faint sound of music to the east of me. I followed it, again going to voicemail. I dialled again, this time the rock music of Dean's ringtone sounded closer.
I walked toward it, trying to remain calm, my gun out by my side just in case.
"Dean?!" I called out as I went through to voicemail again.
The next time when I dialled I heard the phone clearly on the other side of some corn stalks, pushed through them to find Dean's phone lying on the ground in another clearing. I hung up and pocketed my phone before reaching down to pick up Dean's. Six missed calls from me, nothing from Sam.
Panic was starting to rise in my chest and I fought it down.
It was fine, this was Dean we were talking about, Dean knew how to look after himself.
I started walking back to the car, and dialled Sam to fill him in on what had happened.
"Yeah?"
"I found Dean's phone, and the car, but he's nowhere to be seen."
"I'm sure he's fine."
"He's not… he's not fine, Sam, he's missing… taken. Just like the others!" I said furiously into the phone. "Now drop whatever you are doing and come help me find him!"
Click.
I hung up on him. I couldn't deal with soulless Sam right now, I had a missing husband I needed to find, and if I had to I would do it all by myself.
First thing, however, I was going to change my damn shoes!
I had planned to head back into town, but as I was reaching its outskirts, I saw a field off the main road filled with RVs which caught my attention. As I pulled up it became apparent that this was some kind of encampment filled with UFO enthusiasts.
The RVs were circled around a central communal area with card tables and chairs, some people had displays out the front of their vans like they were at an expo, handing out flyers. Coloured lights hung from most of the awnings across multiple RVs lighting up the area, decorated with American flags and UFO pictures proclaiming the truth was out there. I wound my way through a bunch of people milling around setting up video cameras, and preparing for interviews. I saw a big plastic oval-faced alien sitting by the door to one RV and sighed. This was stupid, no one here was going to be any help.
I turned to leave, my eyes falling on the familiar figure of Sam, talking to the same guy - Whitaker - whom I'd spoken to earlier that day. What the Hell is he doing here? I wondered.
"So, they're real? UFOs?" He asked as I approached Whitaker's RV, listening to what the pair were saying.
"Like I said before, son, the truth is out there," Wayne replied.
"Okay, you're the expert. How do I get them?" Sam asked.
"Come again?"
"You hunt ETs, right? I need to know how to get them."
Just when Sam had signed on to the hunt for Dean, I didn't know. Maybe it had been when I hung up on him. Maybe he was trying to fake some empathy to appease me, or Dean, or himself. I was relieved to see him, just the same.
"You and me both," Wayne replied.
Sam started to rifle through UFO literature that Wayne handed him.
"This is it?" He asked frankly, looking up at the UFO enthusiast.
"Well, I'd say that 30 years of eyewitness accounts speak for themselves as incontrovertible proof-"
"Yeah, right," Sam cut in as I watched the conversation unfold curiously. "My brother was abducted so I'm pretty good on the whole proof part."
"Your brother was abducted?!" A pretty woman with long reddish-brown hair, dressed in bohemian clothes, inserted herself into the conversation, staring wide eyed up at Sam.
"Yeah," he replied, looking at her.
"Oh my God!"
"It's fine," Sam reassured her. "I mean, I've had time to adjust," he added. I frowned; he was feeling okay about it, I was nearly hyperventilating.
"Did it happen when you were kids?" The woman asked.
"No," Sam shook his head. "Like, half an hour ago."
She looked shocked at him, and Sam turned back to Whitaker.
"So, you've been hunting UFO's for over three decades and you basically have no concrete data and zero workable leads."
"Well, I-"
"Have you considered the possibility that you suck at hunting UFOs?" He asked, turning to walk away from the man. The woman hurried after him and tapped his shoulder, catching his attention.
"I'd like to help. If I can," she said, smiling innocently at him and batting her eyelids. Sam raised an eyebrow at her and then smiled back, nodding.
"Hey, Sam, for god's sake … focus," I said, cutting in and earning a surprised look from him. "Dean, remember?"
"Who are you?" The woman asked. "Is this your wife?"
Sam spluttered and shook his head. "Uh, no, this is my brother's wife. When did you get here?"
"Just now, why are you here?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear about your husband," the girl said sadly to me. "We were just talking about that."
"Yeah, I noticed…" I said, turning a stern look toward Sam. "So now you believe Dean's been taken?"
"I think it's possible, given your assessment of the situation and lack of any other leads."
"Well, thanks, I think. Are you coming to help me, or what?"
"Um, or what, Beth," he shrugged. "We have zero workable leads right now. The best thing we can do is return to the motel and wait for Dean."
"Wait for what?" I asked incredulously. "For him to just pop out of freaking thin air?!"
"Look, you can go off all half-cocked, and achieve nothing, or you can be sensible about this."
"Sensible? What exactly do you…" I stopped myself from getting into an argument with him, shaking my head.
"Y'know what? I'm gonna stick with going off half-cocked Sam, I'm going to go find some leads instead of waiting for them to land in my lap. Thanks for your help!" I snapped, turning on my heel and stalking off.
"I'll be at the motel when you come to your senses," Sam called out after me. I looked over my shoulder to see him casually snake an arm around the girl's waist; she giggled. I snorted and flipped my middle finger at him, hurrying back to the car.
I was going back out to the field to see if there were any more clues. Screw Sam.
Later That Night
It had been hours and hours, and I didn't know what else I should do. I didn't want to give in and go back to the motel room - that would be giving in to Sam's stupid plan, and hanging out with the UFO crazies was just as unappealing. I had circled the field at least a dozen times, as well as downtown, and there'd still been no sign of Dean or anything else.
The wind whipped through the corn field and I shivered at the sound, recalling all the horror movies I'd ever watched, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. At least there were no murderous scarecrows to contend with tonight. None that I'd seen so far, anyway.
The chill in the air had settled into my bones. I wrapped my jacket tighter around me as I paced the edges of the clearing where I'd found Dean's phone. I was exhausted both physically and emotionally, and on the verge of tears.
Staring up into the night sky, I wondered what to do and sighed. I couldn't stay out here forever. For all I knew Sam was right and Dean was back at the motel, now looking for me. I had his phone after all, he couldn't exactly call me.
I sighed, giving in, and trudged back to the car. Within ten minutes I was back at the motel.
The room was dark when I arrived. I went to let myself into the room when a woman's laugh rang out, followed by Sam's and then a long moan from the girl. I stopped dead.
Was he serious?!
I'd been out looking for Dean, all night, and he was in here shtupping the hippie girl from the UFO camp?
My hand shook with fatigue and anger and distress all at once. Dean wasn't here, but our soulless brother was, having a good time no less. It was kind of poetic I thought, Sam being the one in the motel room getting laid for a change, usually it was the other way around, but never while one of us was missing!
I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes which I forced back as I turned and climbed on to the trunk of the Impala, lying against the window so I could stare up at the stars. I would just wait here then, until Dean showed up, or Sam finished. I was going to sit here until I froze to death, and that was the end of it.
I don't know how long I had been in the same spot. I was starting to nod off when a lone figure stumbled into view at the edge of the motel. His walk was so familiar to me that I would have recognised him a mile away, I felt my heart leap into my throat, relief washing over me as I sat up.
"Dean?" I asked, dropping to my feet.
"Beth?" He looked up at the sound of my voice.
"Oh my god!" I ran and threw myself into his arms, burying my face into his neck and inhaling deeply of his familiar pine and leather scent, mixed slightly with sweat. "Thank god you're okay," I said into his skin, holding tight.
"I uh, I would have called, but … my phone and the car were missing when I…" He stopped, seeing the Impala parked at the curb, then looked at me.
"You have the car?"
I nodded.
"I came looking for you as soon as that call disconnected," I said. "You were gone. I didn't know what to do, I've been looking for you everywhere."
"Where is Sam?"
I hooked my finger behind me toward a now dark motel room and Dean sighed, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door.
"I need a drink, and a shower… possibly not in that ord-" he pushed open the motel room door as I was about to protest, and flipped on the light switch, stopping short in the door frame when he saw what was going on inside.
The red-headed hippie girl was lying on top of Sam, making out with nothing more than a sheet across the two of them.
"Dean!" Sam said, looking up as Dean threw his arms out to the side.
"What the Hell?" Dean asked, speechless at the two of them.
"That's Dean?" The woman asked with a bright, innocent smile, looking at Sam. "Sam, they brought your brother back!"
"What?!" Dean asked, while Sam just smiled first at the woman and then at us.
"Yeah…" He peered beyond Dean to see me and then nodded. "See Beth, I told you there was nothing to worry about."
Dean scoffed, shaking his head as the girl scrambled to her feet and started throwing on clothes while I tried not to look at her and flopped down on a chair, rubbing at my eyes.
Sparrow, as it turned out the woman's name was, grabbed her bag and boots last, while Sam slipped into a black t-shirt, and she flashed him a smile.
"Okay. It's all right, Sam," she said genuinely. "I so totally understand that you need time as a family," she reached the open door, and turned to look at Dean. "But, it's just - what were they like?"
Dean threw me an incredulous look and then turned back to the girl.
"They were grabby, incandescent douchebags," he replied. "Good night!"
Sparrow looked slightly taken aback, but nodded. "Too soon…? Okay," she said, scooting out the door, Dean pushed it closed with a bang, pausing to lean against the wood with his two hands, shoulders bunched.
"You're upset," Sam observed, looking at the anger in Dean's stance.
Silence.
After a few moments where he was clearly trying to pull himself together, Dean turned an ice cold glare toward Sam.
"I was abducted," Dean said, taking a few steps toward him. "And you were here banging Patchouli."
"I didn't think she smelled that bad," Sam shrugged.
"I was abducted by aliens!" Dean shouted.
"Yeah, and we were looking into it. Beth has been all over the place, pointlessly, I might add," Sam said.
"Looking into it! I was gone for like, an hour," Dean snapped.
"An hour-"
"And most of that was walking back to town!" He continued.
"Whoa, whoa," I said, sitting up and holding a hand up to Dean.
"Dean, babe, you've been gone all freaking night," I said, moving to stand next to him, resting my hand on his arm.
Dean gaped, looking at me with confused eyes.
"What are you talking about? No I haven't," he protested.
Sam pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and held it up for Dean to look at - it read 4.04am.
"4am? What?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded knowingly. "UFO time slip. That actually falls in line with a lot of abduction stories," he said.
"Falls in line…" Dean muttered under his breath. He moved to sit down on the bed Sam and Sparrow had just vacated, and mid-squat thought better of it, standing back up with a disgusted look at the tangled sheets. He stepped over to our bed, still untouched, and settled at the end of it while I hurried to the kitchenette and grabbed a glass and the whiskey bottle we'd left there earlier.
Sam stood over his brother, peering at him with curious eyes.
"Nothing's falling in line." Dean muttered under his breath.
I walked over to the pair of them and poured Dean a shot, handing him the glass.
"Here, drink," I said, he complied, downing it in one shot and handing the glass back with an appreciative sigh.
"Good. Thank you."
"Yeah," I nodded, pouring another shot and taking a seat next to him on the bed, returning the glass to his hand.
"Now. Come on, talk to us," Sam said, sitting down on his own bed and facing Dean. "What happened?"
Dean frowned, shook his head slightly and then sucked in a breath.
"Well, uh, there was this um… God help me, there was this bright white light!"
"It's okay," Sam said, reaching out to pat Dean on his leg. Dean looked at him incredulously and Sam smiled his fake smile at him. "Safe room."
Dean peered at me, appearing a little rattled at the sudden caring brother, then shook himself. I shrugged, it hadn't been me to suggest that Sam fake it until he made it.
"Okay, well then suddenly I was, uh, I was in a different place. And there were these… beings, and they were too bright to look at, but I could feel them pulling me towards this sort of table-"
"Probing table!" Sam said excitedly.
"Sam!"
"God! Don't say that out loud!" Dean snapped.
"Right," Sam nodded, calming down. "So what did you do?"
"I went crazy. I started hacking and slashing and firing…" he paused and then chuckled. "They actually seemed surprised," he said, standing up and turning to face us.
"I…I…I don't think anybody's ever done that before." He smiled at me and I grinned, not surprised at all.
"Yeah, I had a close encounter, guys, and I won," he said proudly. He winked, and raised the glass of whiskey to his lips.
"You should take a shower," Sam said, reminding Dean that he had been saying exactly this as we'd first entered the room.
"I should take a shower," he agreed, swallowing the mouthful of liquid he'd just drunk, nodding. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna take a shower now." He dropped the glass on the table behind him and spun on his heel toward the bathroom, shaking his head.
As he reached the interior door, he hesitated on the threshold, looking in my direction as he inclined his head toward me with an appealing expression. Sam rolled his eyes and stood up.
"Okay, I'm out, Jesus Christ. I'm gonna hit up the bar, you two can… do your thing."
"You were in here with Sparrow, the whole night while I was out looking for Dean," I said, standing up, rolling my eyes so hard I thought they might roll into the back of my head. "Get off your high horse Sam."
I knew this was more than sexual for Dean. When he'd first come back from Hell, it had been almost impossible for him to shower alone, or be alone anywhere really. The trauma had been so raw, I'd more than once found him cowering under a running shower, the water turned cold with how long he'd been in there. To avoid that happening, I'd taken to joining him, sometimes I just sat in there and talked to him while he washed. I had a feeling this was going to be one of those times, not the sexy ones.
Of course Dean covered up that vulnerability by making it appear to be nothing more than him wanting to sate his libido. Sam could remain blissfully ignorant of our struggles that way. It was just easier.
Sam opened his mouth like he was going to protest what I'd said, but then thought better of it. He nodded shortly and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door.
He hesitated as he reached the threshold, looking back at us.
"I uh… I'm glad you're back, man."
"Yeah, thanks," Dean said, watching as Sam left the room. He then turned to me.
"He's really not, is he?"
"Well, let me put it this way, he certainly wasn't sweating your absence," I said softly, biting my lip.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he replied, reaching out to cup my cheek.
"It's not your fault," I replied. "I'm just glad you're back."
"Me too, that was mildly terrifying," he agreed, pulling me in for a hug.
Next Day
Diner
After a few hours sleep, we'd headed into the main street diner, and tucked into a booth, ordering coffees and food. The discussion had been circling around the events of last night and I'd remained quiet, listening while Dean and Sam spoke back and forth as we finished up our meal. I yawned and leaned into the corner, desperately trying to fight off a wave of fatigue that our broken sleep hadn't made a dent in.
"So," Dean was speaking to Sam. "On top of all the demons and the angels and the ghosts and the skinwalkers, it turns out that there's -" he paused to shake his head, stupefied. "So if aliens are actually real, what's next? Hobbits?"
Sam scoffed, his eyes drifting out to look over the room.
"Seriously!" Dean insisted.
Sam's attention was fixed on the waitress who was sauntering past us, looking at our brother. Dean and I both watched as he lifted his chin and nodded nonchalantly at her, earning a smile as she passed us, Sam's eyes still following and seemingly dropping down to her ass.
"You just gave her the silent how ya doin'," Dean pointed out.
"What?"
"Our reality's collapsing around us, and you're trying to pick up our waitress?" Dean asked.
Sam's eyebrows knitted together and he nodded as if he was thinking about the appropriateness of this for the first time. I'd given up on trying to teach Sam how to be human after last night - I was still fuming over his behaviour - it seemed Dean had not. It made for a change, as it was usually me making the excuses for Sam.
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Okay. Look…. Brings up a question."
Dean inclined his head questioningly.
"So, say you got a soul, and you're on a case, and your brother gets abducted by aliens-"
"Yeah, then you do everything you can to get him back," Dean cut in, his voice annoyed.
"Right!" Sam nodded, even though it clearly wasn't resonating with him. "You do."
"You don't…" I muttered under my breath, and Dean glanced at me.
"You do," Sam insisted, "but what about when there are no more leads for the night? Are you supposed to just sit there in the dark and suffer, even when there's nothing that can be done at that moment?"
"Yes!" I snapped at Sam, sitting up. "That's exactly what you do, Sam!"
Sam looked at me, confused.
"Right," Dean agreed. "You sit in the dark and feel the loss."
It sounded ridiculous when we said it out loud, but I doubled down on my statement. You didn't go picking up random chicks and taking them home, that much we all knew.
"Okay, absolutely! But couldn't I just do all that … and have sex with the hippie chick?" Sam asked.
"No!" Dean and I replied in unison.
"It'd be in the dark," Sam reasoned.
"No, you couldn't, because you would be suffering, and… and you can't just turn that off for the night," Dean continued. "Was Beth turning in for the night, when the leads went cold? No! She was suffering."
I bit my lip, frowning, Dean tossed me a bewildered expression, clearly hearing what he was saying and knowing it sounded insane.
"And you… if you had a soul… would have been there with her, comforting her, and telling her it was going to be okay."
"But it was okay."
"You didn't know…" Dean's fierce sentence was cut off as the waitress brought over the little black binder holding our check. She smiled brightly at Sam, placing it in front of him.
"Thanks, guys," she said, her gaze lingering a while longer on our brother.
"Thank you," Dean replied, glaring at Sam as he smiled back at the girl. Sam, seeing this chuckled uncomfortably, turning back to us.
"You just wouldn't do it, Sam," I groaned, returning to the conversation while rubbing my eyes.
"Why not?" Sam asked.
"Because if you had a soul, your soul wouldn't let you," Dean responded.
"So you're saying having a soul equals suffering?"
"Yes," Dean nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying…"
"Like, when you guys call Ben and Sophia to wish them good night and read them books before bedtime, but are always sad afterwards?" He asked.
"Yes, like that," I said quietly, looking down at my hands, unaware that he'd even noticed.
"Or Beth, running around town, spending all night in a corn field looking for you, even when we had no viable leads?"
Dean looked at me apologetically, I shrugged.
"You're saying suffering is a good thing?" Sam asked, looking at me like he didn't quite believe that I had benefited from my actions last night.
"I'm saying…" Dean hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "I'm saying it's the only game in town."
He shrugged and climbed out of the booth, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.
Sam contemplated Dean's statement and followed suit while I scooted along the bench seat to the edge of the booth, waiting for Dean to move.
"Okay," Sam said. "So, how do we deal with the little green men?"
The ease with which he moved on from the previous conversation was mind boggling.
"Research," I sighed, finishing up my coffee. "What else?"
Dean flipped through his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills.
"We've got about a century of UFO lore to catch up on," he said as he dropped the money on the table. "And there's no time for-" Dean stopped, looking out the window. "What's up with that guy?"
"Who?" Sam asked.
"The guy by the window giving me the stink eye."
I looked around Dean from where I was sitting, seeing nothing.
"You mean the cop?" Sam asked, referring to an officer who was leaning against the wall near the window, chatting to a local and obviously paying us no heed.
"No, not the cop, the guy, he's right-" Dean turned back toward the window and stopped speaking. "Well, now he's gone," he said, shrugging and turning back to us.
"Who's gone?" Sam asked.
"Can we just get out of here?"
"What's wrong with you?" Sam retorted.
"Before I hit you!" Dean added, looking uncomfortably around the diner.
"Dean, are you okay?" I asked, finding my feet and slipping my jacket on.
"Yeah, I'm fine, let's just go," he said in a tone that said completely otherwise.
Later that Night
Motel Room
Dean blinked heavily at the laptop screen in front of him, talking to Sam on speakerphone, while collected dirty coffee cups, plates, and tidied up our room following an afternoon of research.
"Library's closing up soon. I'm almost done," Sam said while I put all the dishes in the little sink.
"You find anything?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching.
"Yeah. Way too much. Everyone on the planet believes in UFO's, and they will not stop writing books about it."
"Yeah, well, at least books have punctuation," Dean muttered, looking back at a UFO fansite entitled Little Green Friends and Foes Blog. I chuckled and moved to place my hands on his shoulders, kneading firmly at the knots I found.
Dean groaned softly.
"All right," he said toward the phone. "Keep digging and we'll see what you got when you get back." He reached out to hang up the phone, then leaned back into my touch, closing his eyes.
"That feels amazing," he said and I leaned down to kiss his forehead, continuing to massage away the tension.
"Thought it might," I said while he moaned his approval.
"So I was thinking-"
Dean tensed under my hands, causing me to pause as he glanced sideways at the lamp on the nightstand.
"Oh no," he muttered, jumping to his feet and looking out the window.
"Dean?"
"Not again," he said, reaching out his arm and pushing me behind him, backing up toward the wallpapered wall that was a mural of tall, dark trees. He looked as if he wanted to hide in that forest, I looked around the room, confused.
"What are you…?"
The door flew open, slamming against the wall and I frowned at the force of it, expecting to see Sam returning from the library. He never stepped into view.
"Sam?" I asked, I pushed past Dean to go and close the door.
"Wait, Beth, no… no," Dean breathed heavily, staring at the doorway. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back beside him. I looked toward the door again, seeing nothing.
Dean turned sharply to look at the bed, eyes looking urgently around the braced himself, as if in a stand-off, and then lunged for where he'd left his gun after cleaning it earlier.
I watched, confused, as he stopped short of the bed, backing up and staring mid-air, hands up.
"What are you-"
"Get out of here Beth," he ordered me.
I scoffed at the empty room, thinking he'd clearly lost his mind.
Dean paused, then leaned in toward the bed, like he was getting a closer to look at .. thin air.
"Nipples?" He asked randomly, and then staggered backwards, crashing into the wall like something had hit him.
That got my attention.
I moved away from Dean, and circled around to the duffel bag with our weapons, mind frantically trying to figure out what I was going to do when I reached it.
Behind me, all Hell started to break loose.
"Bitch!" Dean uttered, touching his nose and then settling into a defensive stance, edging away from the wall into the middle of the room. Before he could get off a punch at the invisible foe, he ducked, and stumbled like he was avoiding another hit, his eyes darting from place to place.
I picked up the bag, frowning. It was fast, whatever it was.
And it hit hard.
Dean was hit, or thrown, across the room again, this time stumbling toward the front window. I watched as he backed up toward the kitchenette, eyes fixed on a target, and then opened the microwave over the sink, slamming the door shut and hitting the cook button.
"Ha ha!" He said, then he grabbed at the door, appearing to be holding it shut like the door was about to burst off its hinges. I watched incredulously as Dean let go, stepping back with a sharp sigh of relief, and crying out triumphantly as the microwave dinged
"Ha ha!"
I hurried over to look into the microwave when he opened it, finding the interior… empty?
"What the hell is going on here?" I asked, looking at him. "What was that?"
"What was that? It was a …"
"Hey," Sam cut in, sauntering in through the open door and dropping his backpack on the floor. "What's with the door?"
"I just killed a… a, I don't know what it was," Dean announced, "take a look at this."
He gestured to the empty, clean microwave and Sam walked over and peered in, before he tossed me a confused look.
"Take a look at what?"
"Huh? See the blood. See all the ...blech," Dean said, looking into the microwave.
"Sorry, man. I'm not seeing it," Sam said, shaking his head.
"You don't see the ick? It's right there," he asked, gesturing pointedly into the machine.
Dean looked at me and I shrugged.
"I don't see it either," I replied.
"But you… you saw her, in the room?" Dean asked me and I shook my head.
"I mean, I saw the door open, and you getting your ass kicked," I replied, Sam chuckled. "But… no, I didn't actually see anything."
Sam looked from me to Dean and frowned.
"Okay, let's go with you see it, and we don't," he said to his brother. "What the Hell was it?"
Dean shut the microwave and raised his shoulders, uncertain. "It was a… a little… naked lady, okay?"
"A what?" Sam spluttered.
"It was a - it was a little, glowing, hot… naked lady… with nipples. And she hit me."
Sam straightened up a little, looking at me.
"I'm not supposed to laugh, right?"
I frowned and shook my head.
"Right. Okay. Sure," he said, nodding seriously back at Dean.
"So, shot in the dark here, but did this little lady have wings?" Sam asked randomly.
"What the Hell made you say that?" Dean asked, frowning.
"She did, didn't she," he said with a victorious smile.
"Yeah, but how did, how'd y-"
"One of the fringier theories I came across," Sam said, sitting down at the open laptop and starting to pound away at the keys. "It's actually what crazy crystal lady was yammering on about. What if these abductions have nothing to do with UFOs?"
"What?" I asked.
"Okay, say these encounters have been going on for centuries, not with extraterrestrials but with ultra-terrestrials. People nowadays say 'space aliens' or whatever, but they used to call them-"
Sam spun the laptop around to face us, revealing a website called Fairie Feasts, picturing a painting of little creatures with wings dressed in red hats and blue cloaks roaming over a hillside.
"Smurfs?" Dean asked, his eyes going straight to the picture.
"Fairies?" I said almost as sceptically.
"Fairies," Sam nodded.
"Fairies?" Dean scoffed. "Come on!"
"Guys, there's a straight line between ET's and fairies. Glowing lights, abductions… it's all the same UFO stuff, just under a different skin."
I frowned and picked up my duffel bag off the floor, unzipping it to feel around to the bottom where I'd tucked one of Sophia's favourite books. It was the latest book that I was reading to her over the phone.
I pulled it out, looking at the cover. It pictured a young boy in a green tunic and hat with a red feather sitting cross legged, next to him was a shining little lady with a blonde bun on top of her head, and waving a wand toward the child. I turned it around to show Dean and Sam.
"You seriously think that the secret with UFO's is-"
"Tinkerbell," I said, tapping the cover of Peter Pan.
Both of them stopped to look at me, Dean's mouth falling open at the picture.
"That's her…" he muttered, standing up to take the book out of my hands. "This is insane."
"Hey, you're the one who pizza-rolled Tink. I'm just doing the math," Sam said, smiling like he'd hit a home run.
"But this is good," he continued. "This is a lead."
"A lead where?" Dean asked, tossing his hands in the air.
Trailer Park
Next Day
The old lady with the fairy fetish, Marion, lived in a nearby trailer park. Even if someone hadn't given us directions, we would have found her place just by walking around and looking for the sparkles.
There was a neat little garden bed outside the steps into the trailer, it housed all manner of fairy statues, and a little tree sounded nearby with dozens of windchimes tingling together any time the wind blew.
Inside, the trailer looked much the same. I was crammed into one side of a table booth up against a small window, Dean and Sam on the other side of the table. Marion was busily moving around serving tea in the tiniest little floral decorated porcelain cups I'd ever seen. She turned back to the counter in the adjoining little kitchen and carried back a plate of cakes and cookies to place on the table.
"Fairies," she said, smiling broadly and sliding into the seat beside me. "Sprites and spriggens. Bogarts and brownies. The little people have many names."
Dean nodded, and pointed at a little figurine on a nearby side table.
"Well, that's uh, that's her," he said, nodding. "That's the little-"
"Oooh," Marion chuckled and Dean clenched his hand into a fist before composing himself.
"Anyway. I ah, I get that Tinkerballs are fairies…"
"Mhmmm," Marion nodded.
"... but what about the tiny Santa Claus and the troll, and the -" Dean gestured to the small shelves that hung all around the room on the walls, littered with little statues and figurines.
"Oooh. That's a garden gnome, and that's a large goblin," Marion explained, pointing to the different statues he'd just mentioned. "And…"
"But they're all fairies?" Dean cut in.
"Yes," she nodded profusely. "Faery comes in many shapes and sizes. Magical, mischievous beings from the realm next door."
"The fairy realm?" Dean asked sceptically.
"Mhmmm," Marion said, her eyes sparkling.
"So, it's like another dimension?" I asked curiously and Marion spun to look at me.
"Another reality, yes!" She agreed with a smile. "Only people who have been there and returned to our world can see the Faery here."
I looked over at Dean and pursed my lips, contemplating. If that was the case, it might explain why he'd been able to see Tinkerbell and I hadn't.
"Right," Dean said, his eyes narrowing. "Umm, why are the fairies abducting people?"
Marion was taking a sip from her tea, and she quickly swallowed upon hearing the question.
"Mmm. There is much theory and little fact," she replied. "We know they only take first born sons, just like Rumplestiltskin did." Dean inclined his head toward Sam, who nodded - the profile fit in this case.
Marion leaned forward and dropped her voice slightly, like she was afraid someone might overhear us.
"Personally, I think think they're taken to Avalon to service Oberon, the King of the Faery."
"Dean?" Sam asked, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "Did you… service… Oberon, King of the Fairies?" He stared Dean down who swallowed hard, clearly resisting the urge to hit the man.
I had no such inclination and subtly kicked Sam under the table, earning me a glare in return.
"Marion," Dean said, moving on. "Let's say fairies are real, okay?"
The woman smiled happily, tilting her head to the side.
"What can we do about them?"
"Sorry?" She asked, confused.
"How can we…"
"Interact with them," she offered, letting out a mirthful chuckle, and Dean nodded.
"Yes, yes," he encouraged her. "Forcefully interact."
"Well, if you want to win a faery's favour, leave a bowl of fresh cream," she said, her eyes glittering almost as much as her eye shadow. "They love cream," she whispered with a wink.
"Okay!" Dean nodded, looking at me. "And, and…more forcefully?"
"Hmmm," Marion sat back slightly, her brows knitting together thoughtfully as she pondered the question.
"All Faery hate iron," she said, "and the dark Faery burn when touched with silver… What else? Oh! You can spill sugar or salt in front of them," she added, nodding at us. "No matter how powerful, the Faery must stoop to count each grain."
"Well all righty!" Dean said, trying not to outwardly roll his eyes. "That's - wow! A lot to absorb. Thank you."
He made to get up, but Marion held out a hand and protested.
"Oh, oh stay! Finish your tea," she said with a smile, Dean paused and glanced at me. I shrugged, trapped on the other side of Marion until she decided to let me out anyway.
I held up my tiny cup in the air in a mock salute to him, and then smiled at Marion as I took a sip. She did the same, looking pleased with herself and the company. Sam also lifted the cup to his lips, slurping at his tea.
Dean looked awkwardly at the liquid inside his cup, never having progressed past coffee in this area, and chuckled while he glanced around the room.
"I gotta say I, I love the feel -" he offered, waving his hand around at all the decor, "it's uhhh- it's…"
"It's like Sedona, Arizona crapped in here," Sam mumbled into his tea cup.
"Cute-a-riffic!" Dean spat out, trying to draw attention away from Sam's comment when Marion's eyes widened. "Is what it is."
Marion laughed at the comment, clearly chuffed with it.
"Cute-a-rific," I echoed, smiling and shaking my head.
Sam, having finished his tea looked over at Marion.
"You have bigger cups?" He asked.
Marion looked alarmed.
I watched with amusement as Dean patted himself down, hurrying away from Marion's trailer and back to the street where we'd parked the car.
"God, is it on me? I feel like I've got the crazy on me."
"No," Sam replied. "You did sit in some glitter, though."
Dean spun around, brushing at his ass which got a smile out of Sam and I.
He gave up and sighed.
"Makes me want to believe in UFO's again," he muttered as he led us to the car.
"Doesn't really give us the next move, I grant you that," Sam agreed.
"Well, we can always call Bobby," I suggested with a shrug. "Or Jefferson."
"Hey," Dean said, nodding toward a corner store across the highway from where we were parked. "I'll be damned, isn't that the watch guy?"
We watched as Mr Brennan struggled to load up several crates of cream into a station wagon from a cart.
"Huh," Sam said.
I raised an eyebrow at Dean, feeling as if we had just lucked on to something.
"They do love cream," I commented. "That's a lot of cream."
"It sure is," Dean agreed, opening the car door and climbing in, "let's go!"
We followed the station wagon to the front of Brennan's Watchworks, sitting in the car as Brennan proceeded to unload the crates of cream into the front of the store, locking it up behind him before crossing the road and walking down the street.
"All right," Dean said. "You stick with half-n-half, Beth and I will check out the store. And no hippie chicks." He climbed out of the car and I hurried to follow.
Once Brennan was out of sight, we moved up to the front of the shop, seeing the closed sign in the window. Dean led us around to the back alley, and I moved to pick the lock while he stood watch.
"You know if there's anything other than humans in here, I'm not gonna be able to see it, right?" I whispered, and he frowned at me.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "But I trust you more than Robocop to back me up in here."
Good point.
"You got this, you're a good hunter," he added with a smile and I clicked the door open, smiling lopsided at him.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," I quipped and he chuckled.
"Only the pretty ones," he said, sobering as I turned the handle and the door opened into a storage room.
"Here goes nothing," he breathed softly, pulling out his knife and leading the way. I tucked my knife under my armpit and slipped my rosary over my head and wrapped it around my wrist - my father had had it custom made with iron fittings and given it to me before he died. If I had to throw a punch at an invisible fairy I was hoping it would give me an edge.
Dean moved confidently and quietly through the back of the shop until we came out to the main workroom. I paused when his hand signalled me to wait, I could hear tinkering coming from around the barrier that we were hiding behind and Dean took a step backwards, I mirrored that movement to avoid him bumping into me.
He silently backed us out of the room and closed the door behind, and gesturing for us to get the hell out of there. He didn't have to tell me twice, I led the to the back door and out into the alley, Dean locked and closed the door behind him, only then letting out a breath that he'd been holding.
"Phew," he said.
"What was it?"
"Uh, yeah… um, fairies," he commented, shaking his head. "At least four of 'em, working away at their benches making watches and slurping on bowls of cream."
I stared at him. Any other day of the week I would have thought he was out of his tree - but I'd watched him get thrown around the motel room and what I hadn't seen was now scaring me.
"Wow."
"Yep," he nodded, putting his arm around my shoulders and guiding us back toward the main road. "Let's find Sam, we need some answers from old man Brennan."
The sidewalk was bustling with people as the sun started to go down and dinner goers flocked for their evening meal, I instantly felt a little better just having the light and people around.
Dean pulled out his phone and dialled as he looked at our surroundings.
"Freaking full of Keeblers over here man," he said, when Sam answered the phone. "Just full of 'em. It's like the story with the shoe guy and all the elves."
He paused, looking at me, and added.
"You think Brennan made a deal with a bunch of fairies?" He was asking me as much as he was Sam, and I nodded, raising my shoulders in a gesture to indicate that I thought it was as likely as anything else.
Sam said something, and Dean hung up, shrugging.
"He's gonna get back to us," he said.
"Well, what do we do, just wait here?" I asked. Dean was looking across the street toward a bus stop, I wasn't even sure he heard the question.
"Dean?"
"Huh?" He asked, glancing at me. "Sorry. What did you say?"
"I said, do we wait here or go find Sam… are you okay?"
Dean stepped in close to me, sliding his arm around my waist like he was going in for a kiss, but the look on his face told me he was feeling anything but frisky - he looked panicked.
"Remember I saw that … that… guy with the red hat at the diner?" He asked, leaning into my ear. "Well he's right over there by the bus stop, watching us."
I smiled, wrapping my arms around Dean's shoulders and pretending like we were having a romantic moment, and looked behind him…
"Mhmm, well I can't see anyone there," I said, kissing the side of his neck.
Dean pulled back and took my hand, starting to lead me away from whatever, or whoever he was seeing, walking quickly along the sidewalk, weaving us in and out of people.
"Dean, where are we even going?"
"I dunno," he said, tossing a look over his shoulder. "But this guy creeps me the hell out, let's find somewhere to ditch him."
I didn't argue, letting him pull me along with him, my heart racing whenever he threw alarmed glances over his shoulder at our invisible pursuer. I looked too, but I couldn't see anything; not that I didn't believe something wasn't there, it just made it harder to fight.
Dean's walking sped up, and he almost frantically rushed us across the road and into a dark alleyway.
"Is this a good idea?" I asked, hesitating at the darkness, but Dean tugged on my arm.
"No time! Keep moving!"
He led us down the alley and in beside a restaurant, I could hear his breathing start to even out, his steps take on a more determined rhythm as he pulled himself into hunter mode, becoming dark and dangerous. He ducked around the corner of the building and back on to the main street, pushing me up against a glass window and then sliding in against the brickwork by the corner, waiting.
We heard footsteps approaching from the alley, and when they reached the street Dean pounced, tackling a short man to the ground. I watched as the man fought back, wearing a dark suit, glasses and tie.
"Help! Help!" The man called out and I realised, I could see him!
"Little fairy!" Dean growled. "What do you want, you fairy? Huh? Fairy!"
"Dean!" I called out, moving to intervene. Dean wasn't letting go however, his arms locked around the man's torso.
Nearby a little girl screamed and ran up to us.
"Daddy!" She shouted as a crowd started to gather.
Dean stopped wrestling the man at the sound of the girl, looking at me in alarm, and then the people watching us. The man stumbled to his feet, and I gasped, seeing that Dean had just tackled a literal little person to the ground.
"Oh God no," Dean groaned, letting go of the man. "Haha! I'm just kidding!"
Before I could do anything, several men swooped in, grabbing at Dean and slamming him up against the building. It was the police.
"Oh God," I muttered, looking to where there was a patrol vehicle parked two cars down from the restaurant.
"You're coming with us buddy," one of the officers declared. "We saw the whole thing!"
I was powerless to do anything as Dean was cuffed, and they started walking him to the car.
"Dean!"
"It's okay," he called out to me, "you know what to do."
I looked up and saw Sam and Brennan walking around the corner, taking in the scene of Dean being led away.
"Dean? What happened?"
"Sam!" Dean said, nodding at him and seeing Brennan. "Hey!"
"What am I supposed to do?" Sam asked, clearly at a loss given the situation and his lack of soul.
"Fight the fairies," Dean called out, getting a gasp from the people milling around. I covered my face with my hand, mortified. "You and Beth, you fight those fairies."
The officer managed to get the door open and shoved Dean's head down, forcing him to get into the back seat of the patrol car, slamming the door behind him. Dean looked out the back window of the car at us, and I could see, and hear him still yelling.
"FIGHT THE FAIRIES!"
The people standing around were looking distastefully at him, and I sighed, wondering how we would get him out of this one.
"What the Hell happened?" Sam asked, pulling on my arm and dragging both me and Brennan across the street.
"You… oh god you don't want to know," I groaned. "He'll be okay, I hope. We need to focus. What do you have?"
"Come on," Sam said, leading us into a nearby diner and taking a seat at the first booth he could find. Brennan sat down with him, and I slid in across from them, signalling the waitress for a coffee.
"Tell me everything," I said, looking at Brennan. "Why do you have a workshop full of elves, or fairies, or whatever they are?"
The older man took a deep breath and sighed, spreading his hands out on the table.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he started, looking at me with sad eyes. "I supported my family for 30 years making those watches. It's the only thing I know how to do." He held up his hands toward me, and I could see a slight tremor rippling through them.
"Parkinson's," Sam explained and Brennan nodded.
"I was losing my hands, losing everything. My grandmother, she always used to say that they were real. She told me all of these stories when I was a kid about how to summon them, how to get favours from them."
I swallowed as the waitress brought over some cups and filled them with coffee. I smiled at her while Brennan paused his story. Sam, for once, didn't make googly eyes at her.
"Thank you," I said, picking up the coffee and adding sugar and creamer from the little tray on the table.
"Go on," I encouraged Brennan.
"So he learned how to work a spell," Sam said.
"I doubted it would even work," Brennan continued. "I was just desperate. But she left me this book, so I did the ceremony in my back office two months ago, and this man appeared and said he was a leprechaun."
"A leprechaun?" I scoffed, eyes widening.
"Can you believe it?" Sam asked, leaning forward, clearly intrigued.
I couldn't. Years ago Dean and I had got caught up watching a series of horror movies about leprechauns, he was obsessed with how to kill them. Of course, that was the movies - more often than not they got the lore wrong and you wound up wasting your time.
"Dean is gonna cry that he missed this," I said to Sam with a smile.
Brennan looked at us, confused, and I nodded for him to go on.
"I asked him just to cure my hands, but he said he would do even better," Brennan said. "He would make me more successful than I had ever been. He told me he'd bring a crew of workers, that I could save my business, save my name."
"In exchange for?"
"He just wanted a place for them to rest, to take of the fruit and fat of the land," He shared. I pursed my lips, looking at Sam who was shaking his head. "I said yes. I wasn't thinking."
I knew my lore, and I knew that it was never as simple as that.
"The fruit and the fat of the land, it was…?"
"My first born," Brennan said, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Not just mine. There's been others. They're not stopping! They're not going to stop."
I breathed out, contemplating, and glanced at Sam. "And?" I knew there was no way he would have been rushing to find Dean and I if there'd been no leads.
"There's a way to reverse the spell," he said with a smirk. "But the book is in his safe and the fairies won't let him near it."
"It's been a nightmare," Brennan lamented with a sigh.
"So, you can see the fairies?" I asked, looking at him. He nodded.
"Okay then, I guess we have a plan," I said, looking at Sam.
"We do?" Brennan asked.
"Yep, we're gonna fight the fairies, aren't we Sam?"
This time we had a key to get in the back door to the shop, Brennan leading the way into the darkened room. As we entered the workshop, I could see upturned bowls of cream lying around on boxes and the floor, but nothing else.
Sam hesitated, shotgun in hand, and looked at the watch maker.
"Are they here?"
"Yeah," Brennan said softly, "but it's okay. Cream hits them like tequila."
He moved further into the room, pointing out where it was safe to step along the way. I waited at the top of the steps near the front entrance, while Sam took up position midway between me and the safe.
It was impossible to know what we were up against, only Brennan could see the full extent of the room, so I held position where I was standing, knowing that at least this way, I wouldn't step on an unsuspecting fairy.
Brennan crept over to his safe and opened it, pulling out an old, bound spell book and carrying it to a nearby table, flipping through the pages until he came to the right one.
"Iich sha-hayt," he started to read from the book. "Uh keeya shun, augus small un sorashun, augus phootek en shia, en rache connecsha…"
He suddenly gasped, and when I looked toward the man there was a knife protruding out of his chest. Brennan had been stabbed in the back!
Sam swung his gun around to face the intruder as the old man spat out blood and fell to the floor, dead.
"You!" Sam said as the falling body revealed none other than Wayne Whitaker, UFO enthusiast from the RV colony.
"You're the leprechaun?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Indeed I am," he said with a proud smile. "Sorry about the mess, but your friend here went back on his deal." He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe the bloody knife in his hand.
"Well, you weren't very clear with him on the terms," Sam pointed out, gun still pointed in Whitaker's direction.
I didn't know whether I should try to move closer or not. One fae we could possibly take, at least we could see this one, I wasn't so sure how we'd go if the rest of them woke up and attacked.
"I told him there was a price," Whitaker said. "Once we come, we come to stay."
"So you take firstborns, and then what?" Sam asked. "You just sit back and watch while they cover the abductions for you with all that crazy UFO crap?"
"Which you help encourage, naturally," I added. "Nice con."
"But your cover's blown now, Wayne," Sam said.
"Blown?" Whitaker scoffed, looking around the room with his hands in the air. "To whom? Brennan's dead. Your brother? Heh. He's been marked. Been to the ranch. He's ours now."
I swallowed, gripping my gun tightly.
"Yeah. Well. Then there's us," Sam pointed out.
"You?" Wayne asked with a chuckle. "But you can only see me…" he vanished, "...if I let you."
I shared a concerned look with Sam, scanning the workshop, wondering if we'd achieve anything other than getting ourselves thrown in jail with Dean if we were to start shooting it up.
"True," Sam admitted. "But you'll have to get near me eventually, and I have very good reflexes."
The leprechaun reappeared behind Sam, who spun to face him, gun pointed at the fae's chest.
"You're not like the rest of them, are you?" He asked curiously, ignoring me.
"Nope," Sam said.
"I could see that right off," he said nodding sagely. "Her, normal," he said with a flip of his wrist in my direction. "But you, you're missing a certain piece, right in the centre, ain't you?"
"Says who?" Sam asked.
"We fairy folk? We're all about energy," he answered. "And the human soul gives off a certain… perfume. Your soul is far away… but not completely out of reach."
"Is that so?"
"Sam, I can get it back for you. For a price."
Sam glanced at me, and I shook my head 'no', taking a couple of silent footsteps closer to the fae.
"That's adorable," Sam replied, turning his attention back to Whitaker. "It's locked in a box with the devil."
"Your devil. Not mine."
"There's no freaking way a leprechaun can do what angels cannot," Sam said, as I lay my gun carefully on a table, then pulled out my knife.
Whitaker laughed. "Angels… please," he replied. "I'm talking about real magic, sonny. From my side of the fence."
"Got a way of getting in back doors," he whispered when Sam lowered his gun to look at him.
Interesting. I wondered if he was telling the truth.
"So you're my blue fairy?" Sam asked. "You can make me a real boy again?"
Whitaker took a few more steps toward Sam and held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. "When you wish upon a star."
"Yeah. I got a wish," Sam said, and he shot the creature.
Whitaker yelped, stumbling back against the wall. "Iron! Painful…"
"But not a deal breaker," he added as he stood up like nothing had happened.
Sam shot again, missing as the fae vanished.
Whitaker reappeared this time closer to me, I swung the knife, he blocked. I counter-attacked, he twisted my arm around behind me and shoved me into a work bench, disarming me this time. I gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of my lungs, and turned to see him holding my knife, blade in his hand. His palm sizzled, and he grimaced, but ultimately dropped the knife in a show of superiority.
Sam attacked this time, the fae doubled down on his lunge, sending him flying across the other side of the room, across the top of a table, tools scattering all over the floor.
My eyes caught the book sitting nearby, open to the ritual we needed to complete in order to send this creature back to his side of the supernatural veil. Whitaker attacked Sam again, this time with his cane, beating him across the stomach and back.
Sam grunted, throwing his arms up in an effort to defend himself, but the fae was strong, and had the upper hand.
I jumped on Whitaker's back, grabbing him around the neck as I pulled him off Sam. He yelled angrily, and spun, I found myself lifted and thrown across the room, hitting the back wall with a painful thud.
"Beth!" Sam called out, stumbling to his feet and grabbing a discarded shotgun on the floor, panting heavily as he looked around for something better.
"Come on lad," Whitaker said calmly, advancing on him. "You've already taken your best shot."
Sam dropped the gun, breathing heavily as he nodded his agreement.
"You're right, I'm done shootin'," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a vial of salt. "So do me a favour… and count this," he gasped, dropping the contents all over the floor.
I smiled as Sam employed our last ditch effort to contain the fae.
"Oh no…" Whitaker moaned, stopping to look at Sam and then bending down to start sweeping up the grains of salt.
It had worked!
While he was doing that, I hurried over to the spell book and started to read through the spell Brennan had been on.
"Why didn't I do that earlier?" Sam asked, and I laughed, nodding my head.
"One…three…" the leprechaun started to count softly as Sam joined me and I started to read from the book.
"Kum savaltcha… ar noyang, kun enna, ret augus…"
"Dammit!" Whitaker cursed, looking up at us.
"Kkuum doinsha and getta wabasach shul!"
I finished the spell and in a blinding light the fae vanished.
"Phew!" Sam said, settling against the desk. "That was close."
The next day
Cornfield
It had taken until morning to get Dean out of jail, and now we were back on the road, for the most part. Dean pulled the car into a small farm lane by an open cornfield and killed the engine. I grimaced at his swollen eye, and cut lip which he'd received when the angry red-hatted fae had thrown him around his cell last night, up until we'd banished them all from our realm.
As Dean's lawyer, I'd pointed out that he might not sue the police department for man handling if they showed a little leniency over the whole misunderstanding, the sheriff was still baffled as to how Dean had been beaten up in their own cell when no one other than him had gone in there. When the DA arrived, they'd decided it would be easier to send Dean on his way rather than prosecute. Turned out the DA had been the man Dean had tackled to the ground, and he was in a forgiving mood.
Dean climbed out of the car and sat on the hood, reaching down into a cooler to pull out a couple of bottles of beer. He offered one to Sam, who shook his head.
Shrugging, he opened one bottle, handing it to me, and then cracked one for himself.
"So," he said. "Here's to the tiniest DA. At least they're dropping the charges."
I smiled and held my bottle in the air, and Sam nodded.
"Little big man," he said quietly, then looked out over the field to where the sun was setting in a range of gold and pink colours.
"Who would have thought Leprechauns were real," Dean mused, chuckling at me. "You remember that time watching the movie, at that motel?"
"Ugh, how could I forget," I answered, shuddering. To this day, Dean was still oblivious to exactly who had been in the room next door to us, going hard at it. I planned to keep it that way.
"That was a fun night," he replied with a grin, "you can't deny it. Even if you were too injured to do anything other than moan in pain."
Sam looked curiously at us and I shook my head.
"Shut up!" I laughed at him, and I took a sip from my drink. "Well you were wrong about how to kill Leprechauns, that much I do recall."
Dean scoffed and shook his head, commenting that he hadn't had a chance to try a bazooka on the tricky fae. I had to concede that point.
"I was wondering something," Dean commented, after taking a sip of his beer.
"Yeah?" Sam asked, glancing at his brother.
"You think Lucky Charms really could have… you know, returned soul to sender?"
"Come on," Sam shrugged. "It's crazy to think."
I swallowed a mouthful of beer and nodded my agreement.
"He did talk a good game though," I pointed out.
"Hm," Dean turned back to Sam, eyes curious. "You said no. Why?"
"It was a deal," Sam answered straight away. "When's a deal ever been a good thing?"
It was like a stab to my heart to hear him say it; after all it had been my deal that had started the whole Apocalypse kicking off, in a round about way of looking at it. If we'd just left Sam well and truly dead, then Dean wouldn't have gone to Hell, and then he wouldn't have been the one to crack the first seal to Lucifer's cage. If Lucifer hadn't been released, then Sam's soul would be in Heaven, safe and sound, not stuck in the cage.
"I'm just trying to figure out how it works in there," he said to Sam after a moment.
"Dude, I do still have all my brain cells," Sam scoffed. "If anything, my brain works better now."
"Just making sure that's where your head's at," Dean said. "That you're not having second thoughts about getting your soul back."
"Oh," Sam replied softly, a strange expression running across his face. Sam was quiet for a moment, staring out across the field.
There was something in the tone of his voice that set me on edge.
"You're not… are you?" I asked, looking over at Sam, something in his eyes telling me that all was not right with my little brother.
He looked back at me.
"No," he said after a couple of heartbeats.
I wasn't convinced, but who was I to argue?
AUTHOR'S NOTES
The song for this chapter is "I saw a UFO" by Sneaky Sound System
Thanks for reading!