What's up Doc? Chapter 7
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CHAPTER 7
Sam dozed in the Impala's front seat, head resting in its usual spot against the window. Dean stole glances at his sleeping brother's pale face and wondered again how he'd convinced him to come along. He snorted a laugh remembering the well-practiced puppy dog eyes Sam had used; a lethal weapon he'd made good use of since childhood.
"Bitch." Dean muttered at him and dug his sunglasses out of the glove box as the late afternoon sun glared into his face. They were heading to the only Pawnee Reservation in fifty miles. Sam had located it online. He'd been excited. A quick search of the history had shown the tribe was a remnant of the one that had suffered from Doctor Lemke's depredations.
Dean jumped when Sam moaned; shifting nervously in his sleep and caught in another replay he was sure. He put his hand around the back of Sam's neck and squeezed. It was the only place he could touch without causing more pain.
"Wake up, Sammy." Dean felt Sam stiffen under his hand and then relax. He rolled his head away from the window and Dean got both hands back on the wheel.
"Hey." Sam said, blinking tired eyes out at the road. He pushed himself up in the seat, swallowing a groan at the pain in his chest. Even his arms were sore. He felt the stitches in his right bicep pull as he rubbed his eyes.
"I hope these guys have some useful intel. We're almost there." Dean flipped the radio on now Sam was awake and turned up the volume, making Sam roll his eyes as Metallica pumped out at them. Dean grinned and rocked his head in time with the beat.
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The Pawnee Reservation looked like any other poor town in the Midwest. There was a meeting hall with peeling paint, a rundown gas station and small homes and trailers lining its few streets. People meandered along the walkways and around the large duck pond across from the hall. Trees lined most of the town, shading some of the harsh sun that beat down on the brown grass.
"That's it." Sam pointed at the meeting hall. They'd been met at the edge of the reservation by a Pawnee deputy. He told them they would find the chief in the Hall. Sam wished the sun would set. The heat was trickling sweat down his chest and making him twitch with discomfort.
Dean pulled the Impala up in front of the hall and was out and around to the passenger side as Sam opened the door. His little brother wasn't fooling him. Dean could see the tight lines around his eyes and the stiff, jerky movements.
"I don't need help." Sam argued as Dean reached in for him.
"Fine." Dean smiled, crossed his arms and stepped back a foot. He'd let Sam try it himself and be there to catch him.
Sam took hold of the door and pulled himself up quickly, trying to lessen the pain. He didn't count on the blood rushing from his head and would have toppled if not for the strong arm suddenly there supporting him.
"Shit." Sam said with feeling.
"Just give it a second." Dean said, hanging on to his swaying brother. He kept his teasing to himself. If Sams' closed eyes and washed out face were any indication, he wasn't up for it just then.
"You alright there?" An older man with long, silvered hair came out of the meeting hall and watched the brothers. "He doesn't look so good." He nodded at Sam.
"Yeah, no, we're fine." Dean scowled. "He's had a rough week."
"We're…we're looking for Chief Whitefeather." Sam said and pushed slowly up from Dean's shoulder. He had to do better than this or Dean would go after the Doctor's ghost without him. He wasn't going to let that happen.
"You've found him." Chief Whitefeather came forward and shook Dean's hand then Sam's. He held on to Sam's and looked in his eyes. "Come inside. You need to sit down." He turned and left them to follow.
"I'm fine." Sam said defensively and the Chief laughed, turning to look over his shoulder.
"You should be in a hospital I think."
Dean chuckled. "I think I like this guy."
"Shut up." Sam rolled eyes at them both and concentrated on getting up the stairs, unaware of his brother hovering behind him.
The inside of the Meeting Hall was completely at odds with its dilapidated exterior. Inside were warm wood floors, walls covered in handmade tapestries, Pawnee symbology and the soft glow of candles throughout as the sun outside finally began to set. Chief Whitefeather led them to the side and into a comfortable office with deep leather chairs.
"Sit." The Chief took Sam's arm and gently pushed him into one of the chairs. "I have a son like you." He went to an iron potbelly stove in the corner and took the steaming teapot from its surface. "He broke his leg and insisted he could walk just fine thank you…all the way to the ground."
Dean laughed and gave Sam a meaningful look.
"Like you're any better." Sam pointed a shaking finger at Dean.
"Hey, I'm not the walking wounded right now." Dean put his hands up.
"I could fix that." Sam threatened. Both boys startled when the Chief threw his head back in a full throated laugh.
"So you're brothers then." Whitefeather handed Sam a mug, shaking his head. "Drink it. My grandmothers' tea. Fixes everything or so she said."
Sam took a cautious sip and his eyes widened in appreciation. "It's wonderful."
"Yep." The Chief nodded.
"Chief Whitefeather…" Dean started.
"Call me Dave." Whitefeather smiled.
"Right. Dave. I'm Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam. We had some questions for you."
"The good Doctor's ghost." Dave finished and smiled when both boys jaws dropped. "I'm the Chief but I'm also the Shaman for my People." He gestured at Sam. "I felt it when I touched his hand."
"Felt what?" Sam leaned back, curling his hands around the warm mug.
"The…taint of that thing. I can feel it." Dave nodded at Sam. "Keep drinking son."
"Well. We need help." Dean decided to be honest with the Chief since he already knew and accepted their ghost. "You're right, he had my brother for a night." Dean saw Sam shiver and went on. "We're Hunters. We salted and burned Doctor Mengele's bones but the skull wasn't there."
"We need to know if you know what happened to it." Sam finished and looked hopefully at Dave.
Chief Whitefeather smiled. "Been a while since I had Hunters here. You're not the first I've met. " He leaned against his desk in front of them. "It was my Great, great grandfather who removed the head." Dave sighed. "He thought he was doing the right thing."
"Please tell me you know what he did with it." Dean all but begged.
"I do. Over the years we've sent people, warriors, to the Fort to dig it up but… no one's ever made it back." Dave scowled darkly. "Even in death the Doctor can't resist taking my people." He reached out and rescued the mug from Sam as it tipped forward in his limp hands.
"Sammy?" Dean lurched from his chair, seeing his brothers head drop back, eyes closed.
"It's alright." Dave chuckled softly and waved Dean off. "The tea has numbed some of the pain. He's just fallen asleep."
Dean still placed a soft hand at Sam's throat and relaxed at the steady beat there and the even rise and fall of his chest.
"He needs more sleep." Dave motioned Dean out the door in the hall proper.
"Yeah." Dean agreed and stayed where he could see his brother through the open door. "Hard getting restful sleep when you hurt that much."
Chief Whitefeather nodded in sympathy. "My great, great grandfather took the head. He 'cleaned' it and painted protective symbols on the skull then buried it in the exact center of the Fort but…he made a mistake."
"Obviously." Dean said and raised a hand. "Sorry."
"No. It's alright." Dave smiled sadly. "He thought he was destroying the spirit but all he did was bind it to the earth of the Fort."
"Center of the Fort." Dean said. "Gonna be a race to find it before he's on us."
"You'll need GPS coordinates." Dave grinned at the look on his face. "Why do white men always think Native Americans are technophobes?"
Dean laughed, embarrassed and then frowned. His eyes went wide. "Oh crap!"
"What?" Dave asked and then jerked his head around at the sound of a loud crash from outside followed by several screams.
"The dirt!" Dean said and ran to wake Same. "He bound him to the damn earth in that Fort and my baby's covered in it! Sammy!" Dean shook his brother awake.
"What?" Sam jerked awake and stared up at his brother and Dave's scared faces.
"The ghost. He's here. Get up!" Dean said and pulled Sam up. Dean turned and ran for the entrance as more screams sounded. He burst outside, Sam and the Chief at his back, into chaos.
Streetlights lit the early evening darkness. Tendrils of red rust swirled around the Impala, rising up and out like the arms of an octopus. Two men lay unmoving on the ground, red staining the front of their shirts. People scattered through the street, some screaming, some simply trying to escape the terror.
"Sam stay here." Dean ordered and pushed him into the Chief. He sprinted for the car. The duck pond twinkled in the light of the lamps beyond the road and Dean's plan formed quickly. He had to get rid of the dirt clinging to the Impala. It was that cursed earth allowing the Doctor's spirit to rage here.
"Dean!" Sam shouted.
Dean spun back as he reached the driver side door and gasped. Some unseen force took hold of his brother and Chief Whitefeather and threw them back into the meeting hall, slamming the doors shut behind them.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, torn between running to his brother and doing what was needed. He gave a frustrated, inarticulate cry and threw himself into the car. He got the keys in the ignition, reached to close the door and felt his arm pulled viciously. Dean tumbled out of the car onto the cement and was slammed against the rear door. He grunted and slid to the ground, dazed. "Crap." He rolled to his knees and ducked away at an impact where his head had been. "You crazy bastard! You dented my baby? A dent!" He growled and pulled himself back into the driver's seat. He got the door closed this time and turned the keys. He listened to the engine roar to life and held on to the steering wheel with desperate hands. "Hang on, Sammy."
Dean backed out into the road and turned the car in a squeal of rubber on cement until he was facing the Pond. "I'm sorry, baby." He said in a tortured voice and rubbed the wheel. "I got no choice." He slammed the gas pedal to the floor as the car began to shake and she jumped forward, trailing lines of dust behind her.
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Sam cried out involuntarily as he crashed back into the hall, sliding on his back across the floor. Chief Whitefeather came to rest beside him with a grunt. The Chief pushed himself to his elbows, face hidden by a curtain of silver hair.
"I am getting…" Sam gasped as he rolled and got to his knees. "…tired of this."
"I was not finished." The disembodied voice breathed into the hall. The candles flickered and began going out across the hall. Chief Whitefeather froze reaching to help Sam up.
"Ah crap." Sam groaned. "This is not good."
Chief Whitefeather was picked off his feet and sent spinning against the wall. Sam felt a punch to his stomach as he stood and crumpled back to the wooden floor. Pain exploded through his chest and up into his head.
"Leave him be!" Dave Whitefeather shouted. He was pinned to the wall, struggling against the power that held him. A gurgled scream escaped his lips as a line of red appeared beneath his white shirt.
Sam got a hand into his jacket pocket. He sobbed a relieved breath and came out with a shotgun round loaded with rock salt. He pried the firing cap off the end and threw the salt at the shimmering, barely visible image of Doctor Lemke standing before the Chief. The spirit screamed its frustration and vanished. Dave slid to the floor, arms across his stomach.
"You okay?" Sam said past gritted teeth. He didn't get to hear the answer. The Doctor's spirit returned and shoved Sam over to his back. He felt the bandages beneath his shirt being torn away and shouted in pain. "Dammit Dean!" Sam tried to roll away from the shimmering hands reaching for him again. "Hurry up!"
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