This Ominous Bird of Yore (Dean/Sam NC-17)
Title: This Ominous Bird of Yore
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 15,295
Warnings: Wincest, S4 spoilers
Prompts: 10_inspirations prompt a bridge too far and spn_halloween #1, "Something is making ravens flock to a small town in the Northeast. At first they'd just shared the town with the people, but now that Halloween is coming, they've started attacking, and it's up to Sam and Dean to figure out what's going on."
Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves in Reynolds, Maine - a town that seems to have fallen victim to a 160 year old curse with famous roots.
Author's Note: Takes place between 4x04 Metamorphosis and 4x05 Monster Movie. Thanks so much lostandalone22 for the beta!
+++
It was strange, he had to admit, sitting in a booth at a diner across from his brother again. Sam wasn't complaining...it just took getting used to. He would've thought that falling back into their old routine would've been natural to him, but with the developing of his powers when Dean was in Hell and then the lying about it, they felt worlds apart. Even a month after Dean had been rescued by an angel, it felt just as awkward as those first few days reunited. Although Dean finding out about Sam using said powers had everything to do with that.
Sitting in a diner, watching Dean stuff his face with apple pie as Sam perused the Internet for jobs should've been the most normal thing in the world aside from riding shotgun in the Impala.
“You have no idea the things you do to me,” Dean mumbled with his mouthful.
Sam hoped his brother didn't notice how he startled when Dean spoke. He was still too used to being on his own. He raised his eyebrows, having no idea what he was doing to Dean. “Excuse me?”
Rolling his eyes and swallowing heartily, Dean raised another forkful to his mouth. “The pie, not you. Well, you, too, but I still meant the pie.”
“Right,” he responded, feeling his face start to grow warm but then got distracted as a middle-aged trucker in a leather vest with a beer belly clambered out of a booth a few down from theirs and headed in their direction, looking determined. Sam fingered the flask of holy water resting in his inside jacket pocket, muscles coiled tight, ready for an attack, but the trucker kept going, walked right on by them, and only then did Sam remember that they were near the restroom. If Dean noticed how on edge his brother has been as of late, he wasn't saying anything. Sam forced his attention back to the computer, scrolling through news titles and waiting for something to jump out at him.
“Hey, Sammy, listen to this one,” Dean pointed at an article on the back page of some obscure newspaper that was taken from the yellow box just outside the diner. The paper was two days old, but a lead was a lead. “There's a town in Maine that hasn't had power for almost a week now. The power company keeps going in and trying to fix the downed cables, but they're being driven off, and no one from inside the town has been able to leave. After power was cut last Monday, the entire town moved into the high school and got word out for help and were calling around for help before everyone's cell phones died.”
“Driven off by what? Demons?”
Dean's eyes locked with Sam's, motioning at his brother with the fork as he chewed. “Birds. Like Hitchcock. Well, it's not all birds, just ravens so more like Poe. Only a lot of them. You know... Quoth the raven, nevermore.”
“I can now check 'recite poetry' off the list of things I never thought you'd do.”
Sam almost felt like nothing had ever changed as Dean smiled at him smugly. “They estimate a flock of one thousand birds. The ravens were reported to have started showing up in April, and they even brought in an expert to try and explain the phenomenon, a graduate student hoping to link unusual animal behavior to global warming, without any luck.”
“Sounds promising. Animals tend to react strongly to the paranormal.” He knew he normally would've put up more of an argument over the plausibility of a new hunt, but he wanted to let Dean find their next one. Maybe help him regain his footing back in the world, and then Sam would be able to judge if his brother's perceptions had been altered. Sam wasn't an expert on animal behavior, so he wasn't particularly sure how unusual a large gathering of ravens was in a specific location. Even the fact that they had cut power wasn't too attention grabbing - a lot of birds sitting on buildings and wires were likely to cause that. But that they were keeping people on the inside in and on the outside out...now that was interesting. “How are we supposed to get into the town, though, if the birds aren't letting anyone in or out?”
“Well there's no way in hell we're driving my baby into a town being overrun by birds that'll shit all over her. We'll walk in.”
“Sewers?”
Dean seemed to light up at the prospect of getting thrown into the job unlike as of recently one finding them. Getting to a different part of the country seemed like a good idea, too. Away from the endless fields and into the forests, the mountains, a completely different environment that didn't remind Sam of his brother getting ripped to shreds in front of him, driving his brother's body to Indiana and burying him in a coffin Sam had made himself. He was sure Dean would also appreciate the change of scenery.
Out of the corner of his eye Sam caught sight of a dark, wavy haired woman walking into the convenience store across the street. “I, uh, need to get a new toothbrush. I'll meet you back at the motel.”
“Sure. Grab some Hot Fries for me, will you?”
She was pretending to peruse the shampoo selection, not even glancing up as Sam approached. “You can't just leave.”
“Dean found a job. It'll be good for him to get back into hunting, thinking of something other than Hell, angels, and demons.” Sam grabbed Ruby's arm, forcing her to look at him. “You will not follow us.”
“Who else is going to keep an eye on you? If it's demons you're going up against...”
“We'll do an exorcism the...” Sam had to pause to keep his voice from catching in his throat. “The normal way. I'm done.” He went to leave, but remembered that he should at least get the toothbrush he had said he was getting. And the Hot Fries for Dean. His brother certainly took pleasure in the smaller things in life, and it seems liked a surefire way to get back into his good graces. He couldn't spot Ruby in his peripheral vision, and hoped maybe she had actually listened and would leave him alone.
Sam dropped the change in the jar next to the register, smirking at the car air fresheners that hung next to it. He was caught off-guard when he stepped outside and found himself getting slammed into a street lamp. Sam glanced at the diner across the street, no longer seeing his brother at the booth through the window, and knew he shouldn't have been surprised by Ruby's strength, despite the size of the girl she was possessing.
“You can't just walk away,” she hissed in his ear. “I just need to talk to the right people and every hunter in the country will be trying to track you down.”
“I just need to think and you'll be on the expressway back to Hell.”
Ruby released him, Sam avoiding the glances from the people walking down the street. “You'll come crawling back.” Her tone wasn't bitter, more matter-of-fact, like she already knew it was going to happen and it was just time that stood between Sam seeing her way. She turned abruptly before he could say anything, spinning on her heel and stalking off down the street. Sam watched until he couldn't see her any longer, heading off to the hotel and hoping the Hot Fries didn't get crushed too badly when they ended up between him and the lamp pole.
+
After eighteen hours of the two of them alternating sleeping and driving with stops every couple hours for gas, food, or a bathroom, Dean pulled into a motel parking lot once they crossed from New York into Massachusetts. He figured it was just another six hours or so of driving, but he felt physically drained and like he was emotionally hungover from everything that had happened in the last month. And nothing personal against his baby or anything, but he hadn't been able to sleep well while Sam was driving because every time he opened his eyes reminded him of another cramped box he had woken up in and was starting to get to him.
Sensing the car come to a stop, Sam woke up, blinking blearily as Dean turned off the engine. “Where are we?”
“Lee, Massachusetts. I needed to stretch my legs...catching some shuteye in a bed will feel nice and, dude, you could use a shower.” As much as he'd been sharing with Sam since getting back, he didn't think his brother needed to know how too much time in the Impala was giving him flashbacks. After all he'd been through in his life, Dean wondered if waking up in his own grave was what it took to give him post-traumatic stress. He just hoped his memories of Hell stayed repressed.
Sam went to the office to get a room leaving Dean to unpack the trunk. He glanced around anxiously once Sam was out of sight, wondering if this was another moment for Castiel to appear. Dean hadn't seen the angel since he'd told Dean that he needed to stop Sam and then told Dean where to find him. He had thought that Castiel had meant that he was supposed to stop the demon from getting to his family, not that Sam was lying to him about using his powers.
Rubbing at his eyes wearily, Dean willed the thoughts away. Sam had vowed that he was done using his powers, and since Dean hadn't caught his brother sneaking out at night nor had they gone up against any demons. He pulled out the duffels and slammed the trunk shut hurriedly when Sam stepped out of the office, room key in hand. Dean followed him up the stairs to the second level, pausing outside of room twenty-six while his brother unlocked the door.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Dean alone as he brushed his teeth and stripped down to his underwear. Dean frowned at his reflection when he caught sight of the handprint branded onto his shoulder, a mark he still wasn't used to seeing. It wasn't as red and raised as it had been, but without the myriad scars and bullet wounds he'd used to have, the burn stood out noticeably. Dean flipped off the lights over the sink, shuffling over to one of the beds and falling onto the mattress, sprawling out in the middle to take up as much space as possible. It felt better, despite the stale smell to the air, but they'd stayed in so many motels over the years, it was comfortably familiar.
He fell asleep almost immediately, launched into a world of unearthly shrieking, screams of pain, torture, agony, as the sound of his own ragged breathing provided a metronome keeping track of the passage of time. Dean became vaguely aware of something constricting him, holding him tight as he felt something warm and wet, like blood, on the back of his neck as voices whispered his name in the flashes of dark and red.
A hand wrapping around his wrist, gripping tight, jolted Dean awake, panting heavily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the motel room, as his brain wrapped itself around the reality that Sam, still damp and naked from the shower, had climbed into bed with him.
Sam's face was pressed against the back of his brother's neck, whispering his name like a prayer. Dean then noticed that all the blankets had been ripped off the bed and the knuckles on his left hand, the one Sam was holding, were sore and split. “Nightmare?”
Already it was fading, like shadows from the light. “Hell,” he replied just as simply as Sam had asked.
“I thought you didn't remember anything.”
“I don't...not really. I'll get flashes and then they'll be gone.” He turned on the mattress to face Sam, the proximity reminding him just how long it had been. Dean had thought it was odd that God would pick someone who liked to fuck and get fucked by his baby brother, but maybe such things weren't considered a morally gray area in light of an impending apocalypse. They hadn't done anything since before Dean had gone to Hell, and he wondered if that was the source of some of that awkward tension between them after the secrets and uncertainties.
Feeling Sam's breath hot against his cheek, Dean gave an experimental roll of his hips against Sam's, grinning at the groan it elicited from his brother before it was covered in a kiss so insistent it was like Sam saw Dean at his last chance at salvation.
Which wasn't that far from the truth, Dean thought, until one of Sam's hands worked its way into his boxers and started fisting at Dean's cock, and all the noise in his head became radio static.
“Sammy,” he murmured when their mouths parted, catching his brother's gaze, certain that the glassy, green depths, pupils blown wide with desperate hunger mirrored Dean's own. Sam kissed his ear like an apology, working his way down Dean's neck, across his collarbone, down his chest while relinquishing his grip on Dean's dick to hook his fingers under the elastic band of Dean's boxers, pulling them down to his knees in one swift motion. Dean felt his cock twitch from the cool air of the motel room and let out a strangled cry when the sensation was replaced with the tortuous, wet heat of Sam's mouth.
Fingers entwined in his brother's hair, Dean thought that he could get on board with a god who didn't see this as a Hell-worthy sin.
Dean's breath hitched in his throat, knowing that he wasn't going to last much longer with the way Sam's mouth was so eagerly pumping him, one hand kneading at Dean's ass as the other worked at his own dick. When Dean arched his back off the bed, animal instincts kicking in, desiring his own release, Sam pulled back, giving his brother a self-satisfied grin as he repositioned himself, completely covering Dean's body with his own, and bringing their mouths back together with a bruising force as they started to grind against one another. Reaching between his body and Sam's, Dean grabbed both of their cocks, stroking urgently, the kiss becoming their lips occasionally brushing as they panted heavily. Sam rested his face at the crook of Dean's neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there, as if trying to leave a mark of his own to compete with the brand on his brother's shoulder, and when one of his hands joined Dean's, the both of them stroking each other together, Dean lost all control, the pressure that had been building in his loins getting released with a grunt and a cry of his brother's name. Then Sam was joining him, his come mixing with Dean's own on both of their stomachs.
Sam rolled off of Dean, Dean turning to follow his brother, facing each other on the bed, their foreheads pressed together. Dean couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was supposed to say but couldn't find the words. He leans closer, capturing Sam's mouth with his own instead, kissing Sam lazily, their limbs still intertwined.
Dean's last conscious thought before falling asleep was about how this was the most normal things had felt since being pulled out of Hell.
+
They stopped at the town hall in the next town over from Reynolds, going through blueprints of the sewage system to find which lines would take them into Reynolds and directly to the high school. They made a photocopy and returned to the car, pulling their bags and any weapons they thought they might need. They knew they were dealing with something, but they weren't exactly sure what that was, which made packing interesting. They ended up taking a lot of salt rounds, a rifle, the shotgun, a ten pound bag of salt, two flashlights, and Ruby's knife.
The water main opened up in the Penobscot River, so the duffels got tossed in the back seat as they drove to the waterfront. It looked to be about an eight mile walk until they hit the high school, but Dean was adamant about not driving the Impala into a town that was invaded with one thousand birds. This particular drainage pipe seemed to be for maintenance access since there were stairs going down the riverbank directly to it, and while Sam didn't appreciate that the opening was only four feet tall, the blueprints claimed that it opened up into a ten foot diameter after two hundred feet.
“Brains before beauty,” Dean quipped, throwing a flashlight at Sam that he almost fumbled into the river just three feet below the bottom step they were standing on. Sam rolled his eyes, shouldering the duffel as he got on his hands and knees and crawled into the pipe. “This was one part of the job I have not missed.”
“At least this part's dry,” Sam replied, grateful that the runoff was actually in a different pipe below them and the maintenance access one that they were in only filled when there was an excess of water like during a heavy rain or snow melt.
They crawled in silence until reaching where the pipe opened up high enough to stand. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just a focused one as Sam was trying to balance the flashlight between his head and shoulder with his neck bent awkwardly, looking out for anything that might be sharp or dead on the bottom of the pipe. Sticking his hand on a rusty nail or a dead rat wasn't something Sam wanted to do. He felt much better when he could stretch back out and walk normally and also appreciated the walkway running along the edge of the pipe so they didn't have to walk the entire way in knee deep waste water. Sam reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the blueprints that would serve as their map to the high school. It looked like this was the only main to follow until hitting the town line, so they had a few miles before they'd need directions. He started off down the pipe, hearing his brother fall into step behind him.
“Did you go on any long walks through the sewer without me?” Glancing over at Dean, Sam expected to see pain or sadness flash through his eyes as he asked about Sam's time without him, but he seemed surprisingly nonchalant.
Of course after discovering that Sam had broken his promise and then lied about using his powers, he bet nothing else that could've happened in those four months would upset his brother. “I, uh, did a lot of reading. Followed some leads on people that claimed they'd gotten out of Hell. Turns out they were all crazy.”
Dean chuckled dryly. “That seems like the easier option sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, not wanting to elaborate any further on those four months. He figured Dean could fill in the gaps. He had followed a lot of leads and then Ruby showed up. There had been so many mistakes, so many failures, before Sam had finally gotten it right, finally exorcised a demon with a thought and sent it back to Hell without killing the person who had been possessed. Each one he had hoped would be Lilith, or would at least get him a demon that was willing to barter information, to make a trade so it didn't get sent back, but the more time that had passed, the more hope Sam had lost.
“It's probably for the best I don't remember anything.” Dean's candidness was still startling to Sam, a sharp contrast to the secrets he had kept. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the news that their mother had been raised a hunter. She'd always felt like a stranger to Sam, and this new information, so completely different from any of the stories he'd been told by his father growing up, made her feel even more distant. “One of the perks of being pulled out by an angel, I suppose. No signs of where I had been, physical or otherwise. Well, except for...” Sam didn't need to look to know that Dean would be rubbing at his shoulder. It had stood out on his brother's pale skin last night more strongly than the tattoo they both shared. “Sometimes I wish I could remember. I don't know if I was fighting, if I was working to get out on my own like...” Dean paused, but Sam had heard the slight hitch in his throat. “Like Dad did.”
Sam didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't think that after this much time, after everything that had happened, that Dean would still be trying to measure himself up against Dad. Although, Sam supposed, while his brother was the one trying to measure up, he himself was the one actually following in the man's footsteps, on a revenge mission trying to find Lilith much as John had sought after Yellow Eyes.
A little over two miles was when they reached the first intersection, their pipe becoming three. They took the one to the right, following that for another four miles until the next intersection with large pipes. This was the town line; one would take them into Reynolds and the other two looped back around. Sam went to pull out the blueprints again, but Dean stopped him, grabbing his arm. “What is it?”
“They haven't had power for a week and a half, now, right?” Dean sounded more like he was making a point than asking a question. Dean motioned at the pipes with his flashlight, and then Sam understood what his brother was inferring. If the town hadn't had power they hadn't had water, either, and one of the pipes didn't have a steady stream rushing out of it. It didn't even have a trickle, for that matter. “I'm like Sherlock Holmes.”
“If you say so,” Sam replied, shaking his head with a smile. “Still gonna need to look at these, though, unless you can use your powers of deductive reasoning to get us to the school?”
“Not unless they put street signs down here.” They crawled into the main pipe for Reynolds, reaching yet another intersection of empty pipes after twenty feet and able to see more beyond that. “But that would just make things too easy.”
It became a maze after that, Sam hoping in some places that they weren't just walking in circles because it was all starting to look the same. He made Dean stop and wait a few times, trying to connect where he thought they should be on the blueprints to where they wanted to be. If this ended correctly, the basement in the high school had a grate in case of flooding that went directly to the sewer, so they should come across a ladder at the end of their wanderings that put them right inside the school without risking being in the open with those birds, whether they be controlled by spirits, demons, or just plain diseased.
An hour passed and Sam felt like it was taking longer than it should have and was ready to confess to Dean that he thought they were lost when he heard his brother calling for him from up ahead. Sam jogged to catch up and found Dean staring at a ladder that led to a grate above their heads. “This it?”
It was dark on the other side of the grate, and Sam knew from the time that the sun hadn't set yet, so they had definitely found the inside of some building. He just hoped it was the high school or that Sam at least hadn't directed them to the opposite side of town from where they wanted to be. “Should be,” Sam said, and from the way Dean looked over at him, Sam could tell that his brother knew he wasn't completely sold.
Sam took both of the bags as Dean started up first, fighting against gravity to push up the heavy grate and move it to the side so they could climb through. Sam handed the bags through the hole before pulling himself up, and from the stacks of desks and chairs in the corner, it certainly looked like they'd ended up in the right place. He helped Dean put the grate back, and as they straightened to explore the rest of the building, both of their hands shot into the air. In front of them was a man in his fifties in a police uniform with a badge that read Town of Reynolds, pointing a gun back and forth at the two of them.
Lieutenant Masterson, Sam read on his uniform, looked frazzled, like his last nerve had been worn thin years ago. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“I'm Luke Skywalker; I'm here to rescue you.” Dean shot a smirk back at Sam who was meeting his brother with his own incredulous gaze. “I've always wanted to say that.”
+
Once they'd gotten Masterson - or Harry, as he'd introduced himself - to lower his weapon, he just needed to look at their forged identification and was convinced that they were animal control and that they had been sent to help. Well, the last part wasn't a lie, anyway - they were there to help. Once they were brought upstairs and saw all the cots and sleeping bags set up in the gymnasium with the windows all taped and boarded up like the town was expecting a hurricane, Dean figured they were so desperate at this point that he could've told them that he and Sam were sent from the future to save the town, and they probably would've been believed.
“Didn't know anything was wrong at first,” Harry was explaining. “Spotted the first pair about mid-April. We've gotten ravens before, usually a pair that'll nest, so we just figured that was what was going on. But more kept showing up everyday. Became too hard to keep track of their numbers a long time ago. There's five thousand people in this town - there's at least two birds per person, possibly three. But you boys will want to talk to Marli. She works at a university in Orono, studies animal behavior. She hasn't a clue what's going on here either but she's the local bird expert.”
Dean caught his brother's gaze, and he just shrugged noncommittally in response. They couldn't even pretend they knew anything about birds in a conversation with a biologist, but Dean didn't really think they needed to. They were from animal control and didn't claim to be experts. They just needed to be able to trap or kill the ravens. Or destroy whatever was drawing them to the town.
“There's something we've been wondering, Lieutenant.” This time it was Dean being puzzled since he had no idea what Sam might be referring to. “We read about this in a newspaper. If the power had been cut, how did you get the word out? The article mentioned cell phones, but...” Sam held his up, motioning that it was useless.
“Problem with moving the entire town to the high school was the metal in the walls. Can't get any reception in the building short of hanging out a window. Also such a small town there's only one part of it where you can pick up a decent signal, so the Spencers volunteered to stay in their house. They were given every cell phone in the town to call all the papers, radio stations, anyone to try and get word out that we needed help. That was nine days ago. Nice to know someone's writing about us, though. When was the article published?”
“Would've been six days ago. In Missouri.”
Masterson shook his head slowly, looking near tears. Even Dean couldn't think of anything to say. The idea that they had called the media in all the states from Maine to Missouri, possibly beyond, and that might have been the only one to report it while five thousand people lived together in a high school that was probably built to only hold one tenth of that number just waiting for it to end or for help to show up... “God bless the both of you for coming all the way up here to help.”
There was a pregnant silence as they made their way to a section of offices that must have included the principal's because all of a sudden Dean felt like he was in trouble. He cleared his throat awkwardly, causing Masterson to pause outside of a frosted glass door. “The article mentioned that the power company had been trying to fix things for you guys but kept getting driven off.”
“Well it's nice to know the rest of the world hasn't forgotten about us yet,” came a voice from behind Dean. He turned to see a woman in her thirties with dark, curly hair. She look tired, strained, just like Lieutenant Masterson and every other person they'd passed in the building. “You two really made it in from the outside?”
“They came in through the sewers,” Harry answered for them, speaking with an awe that Dean wondered if was based in the fact that the officer couldn't believe no one had thought of that already to get the entire town out. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is Doctor Austin.”
“Marli,” she said, shaking each of their hands. “We're not at a conference - no need to be formal. Are you two related or, uh...” Yeah, that, too, Dean thought as Sam responded quickly that they were brothers. Like they hadn't crossed into that gray area years ago. “And you both work in animal control?”
“It's the family business,” Dean answered, trying to ignore the fresh pang in his heart that accompanied that statement. It had a whole new meaning now. Before it was just them and their father, but now, knowing their mother had been raised like this, and their grandfather had been a hunter too. What started as revenge and became a responsibility was now starting to feel like fate. “I think we should talk about what's happened here so we can try and figure out what needs to be done.”
Marli nodded at Masterson, who opened the office door and motioned for them to enter and sit down. The room was just as dark as the rest of the place - more boarded up windows. This one they'd actually seemed to have run out of two by fours and it was metal locker doors barricading the glass. Once everyone was seated, the pair wasted no time in getting Dean and Sam caught up.
They skipped what Harry had already talked about. Austin elaborated on how she'd arrived in June, intrigued by the unusual behavior displayed by the ravens amassing in one place in such large numbers and working to document it. Aside from sheer numbers, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until August when dead birds started showing up - hawks, owls, even an eagle, all natural predators of ravens - their eyes pecked out and wings ripped to shreds.
Then in the last month it escalated. The elementary school's boys' and girls' soccer teams were waiting outside for their parents after practice and the birds attacked. There were no serious injuries, mostly cuts and scratches. Two days later they had a town meeting about what to do about the birds, and when they all went to go back home their tires had all been deflated, and the ravens watched them ominously as they walked home, swooping at their heads, their feathers ghosting at their skin, fluttering against their hair.
The next day was a second town meeting. Marli brought up that the behavior might be caused by disease, the kids that were attacked needed to be monitored. The board, at a loss on how to keep the people safe, worked out an ordinance where people couldn't leave their homes as they worked on trying to trap and exterminate the animals. After two days all the power had been cut, forcing the move to the high school, entire families moving with all the food they could carry, escorted by anyone in town who had a gun and volunteered to help. The Spencers, as they'd already heard about, had their own generator and took everyone's cell phones, staying on their own to get word out for help. They haven't been able to contact them since, and that was just over a week ago.
Right away the birds started testing the building. It was a brand new high school, this year being the first it had been open, and being in central Maine it had been built to withstand winter's hard winds, the weight of snow, even hail. The glass was reinforced with a wire mesh, so once they broke through the glass, there was barely enough time to get the windows boarded up before they stretched out or ripped through the wire. It seemed quiet for a while, so an officer would poke outside to check, but the birds would suddenly all be there and diving at the door, trying to get through the crack before it was slammed shut and locked, but so far those who were checking had been faster. In the meantime tensions were running high, and they've had to force some people apart. It was just a matter of time before they'd have to break out a fight. They were actually hoping for just a fight since a full on riot seemed more likely.
Dean looked over at his brother who nodded back at him. This sounded like something right up their alley all right. “I think we should get outside,” Sam said. “Get a feel for what we're dealing with.” Dean had a few scenarios running through his mind. He'd heard of spirits controlling animals, but he was also open to the possibility of witchcraft, demons, or a curse. Definitely needed to check for EMF.
“I recommend you wait until tomorrow. They've been more active in the dark, which is unusual since ravens are typically more active during the day. They're scavengers, don't do so well at night.” Marli seemed almost excited that she was able to witness such behavior.
Harry leaned forward, hands clasped with his elbows resting on his knees. “You boys comfortable with firearms? Recommend you bring some protection.”
Eyeing the duffel bag he'd placed on the floor, Dean wondered if he'd be needing birdshot or the salt rounds. “We came prepared.”
A police officer that looked like he was just out of high school ran into the room, a German shepherd following him and a piece of paper clenched tightly in his fist. “Lieutenant, we saw this dog outside with this tied to its collar.”
“Is that the Spencers' dog?” Its fur was matted in some places with dirt, other spots looked like it might have been blood. Masterson held out a hand, “Give that here.” He unfolded it carefully, face falling as he read. “It's a letter from Suzanne,” Harry said heavily. “Eric Spencer's dead. He was putting more gasoline in the generator and the birds got him.” He looked over at Dean and Sam. “Will you excuse us, please?”
Once they got into the hallway and shut the door behind them, Dean knew they had to get out to that house. “We need to look at the body.”
“We need to get Suzanne Spencer back safely,” Sam said pointedly. “Those ravens shredded tires and destroyed power lines. There might not be much of a body left.”
They meandered aimlessly, not really sure where they were going but soon managed to find the cafeteria. It was dinner time. “Either way we need to get to that house. Why'd it have to be birds? Those beady little eyes... Can't tell what they're thinking. Could've been planning this for all we know.”
“You don't think it's supernatural?”
“Oh I know it's supernatural. Just saying.” Dean looked around the room, watching people eating mechanically, like they'd lost all hope. And these people didn't even know yet that one of their own had been killed. “Way people treat this planet it was just a matter of time before mother nature rebelled.”
“Yeah.” Sam scoffed, “And you're so environmentally friendly with all the takeout in styrofoam containers and a car with lousy fuel economy.”
“Hey! No dissing my baby.” Running through what they'd learned in his head, Dean wondered if it was some weird scientist kink to be so interested in these ravens going berserk and killing people, or if it was really as suspicious as it seemed. “What do you think about a witch?”
“Maybe. Witches tend to have a higher body count, though. Unless it's all just a really elaborate cover up. We can check for a hex bag at the Spencers' house tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sam seemed anxious, like there was somewhere he'd rather be. “So what to we do in the meantime?”
He knew they should probably go hit up the library and see if they could turn up anything interesting in the town's history, but Dean had a more immediate goal in mind. “First thing's first - I'm going to get me some grub.”
+
Sam had a hard time sleeping in the hallway, families lined up in sleeping bags and cots all around them, but it wasn't the circumstances. Ever since Florida he had been having difficulty sleeping, with Dean dead and back and then in Hell and back again. Learning that his brother had been brought back by an angel because God didn't want him to use his powers certainly hadn't helped, so all night Sam stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the lines and occasionally looking over at Dean, who was sleeping soundly, just to make sure he was still there.
He stayed like that until daylight, getting up to check and load the weapons in an empty classroom until Dean woke up. Sam started to familiarize himself with the map of the town they'd gotten from Lieutenant Masterson after dinner, the fastest route to the Spencers' home highlighted, and didn't even notice that his brother had arisen until he was in the classroom with Sam, offering up a cup of coffee and a danish.
“We can't carry too much - might have to move quickly.” Sam took a sip of coffee, letting the bitterness sit on his tongue for a moment, ignoring how Dean's eyebrow raised as he examined the weapons. “I've been awake for a few hours already.”
“Uh huh.” His brother leaned against the desk that Sam had opened the map up on, Sam subconsciously stepping in closer, near enough to feel the heat radiating off of Dean's skin. He wanted to touch him, to burn away the memory of his cold skin and blood against his hands, but they were at a job and that would break one of their unwritten rules. “Looks like, what, four miles to the house?”
“Four and a half. They're on a hill with an apple orchard on the property - we're not going to have a lot of cover.” Sam had found a book on birds in the school's library before they called it a night. It said that ravens could be distinguished from crows since they didn't flap their wings as much, relied more on soaring to get around, so being amongst trees when dealing with birds that did best in the open would've been more ideal. “I got some birdshot. We should bring salt rounds just in case, the EMF reader, and I think fire would be a good idea.”
“Well finish your breakfast and we'll get going.”
They headed out an hour later, Marli and Harry wanting to give them some luck as they unlocked the doors. Some people from the town were standing around watching, regarding Dean and Sam warily - word had traveled quickly about who they were and why they were there. The town of Reynolds wanted it to be over but didn't want to get their hopes up.
The brightness from the sun and the color-changing leaves were almost blinding compared to the dark of inside the school. Reynolds had an eerie feel to it - visible downed power lines and cars still sitting where they had been when sharp bills punctured the tires. Sam held a lighter and aerosol can at the ready while Dean had the shotgun, eyes watching the sky but nothing moved, not even a breeze.
They crossed the parking lot slowly, relaxing slightly when they reached the road that was lined with tall oak and pine trees that provided at least temporary shelter from above. Sam heard a sharp laugh from his brother, turning to see the sign that Dean had read: Edgar Allen Poe High School. Perched on top of the engraved granite sign was a bronze statue of a raven.
“Nevermore,” Dean commented. Even Sam had to admit that it couldn't just be a coincidence. “Dude it's gotta be a witch. Demons and spirits don't appreciate irony as much as those crafty bitches.”
A flapping sound from the tree just overhead made both of them bring up their weapons, scanning the air for the source of the noise but finding nothing.
“Let's get moving.” Sam got his bearings, noting street names and figuring out which direction they needed to be heading in. He thought about the possibility of it being a witch as they walked, but to Sam it didn't add up. He'd brought up yesterday that witches tended to have a higher body count, some sort of sacrifice was necessary for their spells, but witches were also more direct. Only Eric Spencer had been killed so far, so if he had been the intended target despite all the attacks, he should've died when the ravens showed up instead of them unsuccessfully going after the kids and then the entire town first.
If anything the birds seemed angry, like vengeful spirits they had encountered. They arrived and attacked, and when the population of Reynolds, Maine decided to stay in their homes, the ravens cut the power, driving them to the only building in the town large enough to shelter everyone temporarily that had a generator, the high school. The Spencers were the only ones who didn't move to the high school, so when Eric went out to put more gasoline in the generator, he was killed.
It almost seemed to Sam like Edgar Allen Poe High School was the source of it all. Whatever the birds were trying to do or prove, he was starting to believe that it had to do with the school, and Sam made a mental note to look into it at the library once they got back with Suzanne Spencer.
“Hey, Major Tom! Is this the address?” Dean asked, snapping Sam out of his reverie. He hadn't realized that he had zoned out as they stood in front of a mailbox that was next to a steep, uphill driveway.
“Yeah, this is right.” He could see through the trees where they thinned out and the orchard next to the house began. “You should talk to Mrs. Spencer, get her to come back with us and try to find anything unusual in the house. I'll check outside, find Mr. Spencer's body and check for EMF.”
Sam could hear his brother banging on the front door and then talking as he rounded the outside of the house, looking for the generator. He found it at the back of the house next to a bulkhead with wooden doors that must have led to the basement. The generator was running, so Eric Spencer had at least accomplished his task before he was killed, likely saving his wife from freezing to death. There was dried blood in the grass, which Sam followed to the bulkhead. He lifted the doors and almost dropped them at the sight.
Eric Spencer's body was twisted like he had fallen down the stairs, a hand still resting on the door handle. He'd almost made it, but the sheer number of birds would have been overwhelming. His chest was torn to ribbons, and Sam had to shake away the memories of Dean's body, similarly ripped apart by Hellhounds. His body cavity had been completely cleaned out - the birds had removed all the organs, and from what Sam could see, the eyes and tongue were missing, as well. This made Sam wonder if the birds were corporeal after all, being controlled by something or someone, since taking those body parts for food seemed like normal scavenger behavior. He thought back to the witch theory - possibly there were some spells that needed actual human organs. Sam would have to wait and see if Dean turned up a hex bag in the house, but in the meantime, he needed to scan the body for EMF.
The reader picked up nothing. Sam checked for traces of sulfur or ectoplasm but still nothing. He glanced back at the basement door and paused, reaching down to pick up a glossy black feather. Hearing the front door creak open the slam shut, Sam put the feather in his pocket and hurried up the steps, shutting the doors to hide the body as Dean and Eric Spencer's widow rounded the back of the house. His brother introduced him to Suzanne gently, her barely registering Sam's presence as her gaze was focused on the bulkhead, knowing that's where her husband's body was. Mrs. Spencer's expression was blank as she pulled her sweater tighter, fiddling with her wedding ring as she did so. Whatever last words she was saying to her husband, Sam figured she was finished when she turned and started to walk down the driveway, leading the way back to the high school.
“Did you find anything?” Dean asked, voice low to keep Suzanne from making out details of what was being said.
Pulling the feather out of his pocket, Sam held it out for his brother to take. “Just this. And the body... The eyes and tongue were gone. So were the organs - liver, kidneys, stomach, intestines, everything was cleaned out. Was there anything in the house?”
“Nothing unusual considering that they've been shut in for nearly two weeks and then her husband was killed two days ago. Didn't get too much information out of Suzanne - saying she's a little detached would be an understatement.”
“That's what happens when you watch someone you love get ripped to shreds, and there's nothing you can do to stop it,” Sam mumbled, but from the expression on his brother's face, he could tell that Dean had heard him.
They arrived back at the town's main street, the one the high school was off of, and all of a sudden the sky went dark. Dean and Sam looked up, guns raised, at the same time Suzanne Spencer let out an agonizing scream. “Run!” Dean yelled, and Sam looked behind them to see Mrs. Spencer bolt towards the school. They took off behind her, glancing skywards every so often to see how much closer, how much lower, the ravens were getting.
Sam couldn't believe how many of them there were - it seemed like they almost completely blocked out the sky. They reached the end of the parking lot before the flock dropped, Sam hearing his brother's shotgun going off and looking back in time to see several of the birds twist to the side, but then they kept on coming. It was hard to tell if Dean had missed or not, but the ravens were flying so densely that Sam doubted it was possible to miss. Dropping the aerosol can and lighter to the ground, Sam reached behind him to grab the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans, wanting to test rock salt on the birds just in case. He aimed at the flock and fired, feeling a flash of triumph as one of the ravens flickered then disappeared.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, unloading the shotgun to replace the birdshot with salt rounds. “Where's Suzanne?”
Firing off a couple more shots at some birds he thought were circling too closely to his brother, Sam looked around and couldn't find her. “I think she got inside.”
“Sammy, drop!” As Sam hit the pavement, he heard the shotgun go off and saw the wisp of a vanished spirit where his head had been seconds before. He took Dean's outstretched hand to help him up. “You okay?”
“I'm fine. We need to get into the school before we run out of ammo.”
“Couldn't agree with you more.”
Sam shot at a raven that was getting too close, keeping the gun raised and, back-to-back with Dean, they made their way back indoors as quickly as possible.
THIS STORY CONTINUED ------->
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 15,295
Warnings: Wincest, S4 spoilers
Prompts: 10_inspirations prompt a bridge too far and spn_halloween #1, "Something is making ravens flock to a small town in the Northeast. At first they'd just shared the town with the people, but now that Halloween is coming, they've started attacking, and it's up to Sam and Dean to figure out what's going on."
Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves in Reynolds, Maine - a town that seems to have fallen victim to a 160 year old curse with famous roots.
Author's Note: Takes place between 4x04 Metamorphosis and 4x05 Monster Movie. Thanks so much lostandalone22 for the beta!
+++
It was strange, he had to admit, sitting in a booth at a diner across from his brother again. Sam wasn't complaining...it just took getting used to. He would've thought that falling back into their old routine would've been natural to him, but with the developing of his powers when Dean was in Hell and then the lying about it, they felt worlds apart. Even a month after Dean had been rescued by an angel, it felt just as awkward as those first few days reunited. Although Dean finding out about Sam using said powers had everything to do with that.
Sitting in a diner, watching Dean stuff his face with apple pie as Sam perused the Internet for jobs should've been the most normal thing in the world aside from riding shotgun in the Impala.
“You have no idea the things you do to me,” Dean mumbled with his mouthful.
Sam hoped his brother didn't notice how he startled when Dean spoke. He was still too used to being on his own. He raised his eyebrows, having no idea what he was doing to Dean. “Excuse me?”
Rolling his eyes and swallowing heartily, Dean raised another forkful to his mouth. “The pie, not you. Well, you, too, but I still meant the pie.”
“Right,” he responded, feeling his face start to grow warm but then got distracted as a middle-aged trucker in a leather vest with a beer belly clambered out of a booth a few down from theirs and headed in their direction, looking determined. Sam fingered the flask of holy water resting in his inside jacket pocket, muscles coiled tight, ready for an attack, but the trucker kept going, walked right on by them, and only then did Sam remember that they were near the restroom. If Dean noticed how on edge his brother has been as of late, he wasn't saying anything. Sam forced his attention back to the computer, scrolling through news titles and waiting for something to jump out at him.
“Hey, Sammy, listen to this one,” Dean pointed at an article on the back page of some obscure newspaper that was taken from the yellow box just outside the diner. The paper was two days old, but a lead was a lead. “There's a town in Maine that hasn't had power for almost a week now. The power company keeps going in and trying to fix the downed cables, but they're being driven off, and no one from inside the town has been able to leave. After power was cut last Monday, the entire town moved into the high school and got word out for help and were calling around for help before everyone's cell phones died.”
“Driven off by what? Demons?”
Dean's eyes locked with Sam's, motioning at his brother with the fork as he chewed. “Birds. Like Hitchcock. Well, it's not all birds, just ravens so more like Poe. Only a lot of them. You know... Quoth the raven, nevermore.”
“I can now check 'recite poetry' off the list of things I never thought you'd do.”
Sam almost felt like nothing had ever changed as Dean smiled at him smugly. “They estimate a flock of one thousand birds. The ravens were reported to have started showing up in April, and they even brought in an expert to try and explain the phenomenon, a graduate student hoping to link unusual animal behavior to global warming, without any luck.”
“Sounds promising. Animals tend to react strongly to the paranormal.” He knew he normally would've put up more of an argument over the plausibility of a new hunt, but he wanted to let Dean find their next one. Maybe help him regain his footing back in the world, and then Sam would be able to judge if his brother's perceptions had been altered. Sam wasn't an expert on animal behavior, so he wasn't particularly sure how unusual a large gathering of ravens was in a specific location. Even the fact that they had cut power wasn't too attention grabbing - a lot of birds sitting on buildings and wires were likely to cause that. But that they were keeping people on the inside in and on the outside out...now that was interesting. “How are we supposed to get into the town, though, if the birds aren't letting anyone in or out?”
“Well there's no way in hell we're driving my baby into a town being overrun by birds that'll shit all over her. We'll walk in.”
“Sewers?”
Dean seemed to light up at the prospect of getting thrown into the job unlike as of recently one finding them. Getting to a different part of the country seemed like a good idea, too. Away from the endless fields and into the forests, the mountains, a completely different environment that didn't remind Sam of his brother getting ripped to shreds in front of him, driving his brother's body to Indiana and burying him in a coffin Sam had made himself. He was sure Dean would also appreciate the change of scenery.
Out of the corner of his eye Sam caught sight of a dark, wavy haired woman walking into the convenience store across the street. “I, uh, need to get a new toothbrush. I'll meet you back at the motel.”
“Sure. Grab some Hot Fries for me, will you?”
She was pretending to peruse the shampoo selection, not even glancing up as Sam approached. “You can't just leave.”
“Dean found a job. It'll be good for him to get back into hunting, thinking of something other than Hell, angels, and demons.” Sam grabbed Ruby's arm, forcing her to look at him. “You will not follow us.”
“Who else is going to keep an eye on you? If it's demons you're going up against...”
“We'll do an exorcism the...” Sam had to pause to keep his voice from catching in his throat. “The normal way. I'm done.” He went to leave, but remembered that he should at least get the toothbrush he had said he was getting. And the Hot Fries for Dean. His brother certainly took pleasure in the smaller things in life, and it seems liked a surefire way to get back into his good graces. He couldn't spot Ruby in his peripheral vision, and hoped maybe she had actually listened and would leave him alone.
Sam dropped the change in the jar next to the register, smirking at the car air fresheners that hung next to it. He was caught off-guard when he stepped outside and found himself getting slammed into a street lamp. Sam glanced at the diner across the street, no longer seeing his brother at the booth through the window, and knew he shouldn't have been surprised by Ruby's strength, despite the size of the girl she was possessing.
“You can't just walk away,” she hissed in his ear. “I just need to talk to the right people and every hunter in the country will be trying to track you down.”
“I just need to think and you'll be on the expressway back to Hell.”
Ruby released him, Sam avoiding the glances from the people walking down the street. “You'll come crawling back.” Her tone wasn't bitter, more matter-of-fact, like she already knew it was going to happen and it was just time that stood between Sam seeing her way. She turned abruptly before he could say anything, spinning on her heel and stalking off down the street. Sam watched until he couldn't see her any longer, heading off to the hotel and hoping the Hot Fries didn't get crushed too badly when they ended up between him and the lamp pole.
+
After eighteen hours of the two of them alternating sleeping and driving with stops every couple hours for gas, food, or a bathroom, Dean pulled into a motel parking lot once they crossed from New York into Massachusetts. He figured it was just another six hours or so of driving, but he felt physically drained and like he was emotionally hungover from everything that had happened in the last month. And nothing personal against his baby or anything, but he hadn't been able to sleep well while Sam was driving because every time he opened his eyes reminded him of another cramped box he had woken up in and was starting to get to him.
Sensing the car come to a stop, Sam woke up, blinking blearily as Dean turned off the engine. “Where are we?”
“Lee, Massachusetts. I needed to stretch my legs...catching some shuteye in a bed will feel nice and, dude, you could use a shower.” As much as he'd been sharing with Sam since getting back, he didn't think his brother needed to know how too much time in the Impala was giving him flashbacks. After all he'd been through in his life, Dean wondered if waking up in his own grave was what it took to give him post-traumatic stress. He just hoped his memories of Hell stayed repressed.
Sam went to the office to get a room leaving Dean to unpack the trunk. He glanced around anxiously once Sam was out of sight, wondering if this was another moment for Castiel to appear. Dean hadn't seen the angel since he'd told Dean that he needed to stop Sam and then told Dean where to find him. He had thought that Castiel had meant that he was supposed to stop the demon from getting to his family, not that Sam was lying to him about using his powers.
Rubbing at his eyes wearily, Dean willed the thoughts away. Sam had vowed that he was done using his powers, and since Dean hadn't caught his brother sneaking out at night nor had they gone up against any demons. He pulled out the duffels and slammed the trunk shut hurriedly when Sam stepped out of the office, room key in hand. Dean followed him up the stairs to the second level, pausing outside of room twenty-six while his brother unlocked the door.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Dean alone as he brushed his teeth and stripped down to his underwear. Dean frowned at his reflection when he caught sight of the handprint branded onto his shoulder, a mark he still wasn't used to seeing. It wasn't as red and raised as it had been, but without the myriad scars and bullet wounds he'd used to have, the burn stood out noticeably. Dean flipped off the lights over the sink, shuffling over to one of the beds and falling onto the mattress, sprawling out in the middle to take up as much space as possible. It felt better, despite the stale smell to the air, but they'd stayed in so many motels over the years, it was comfortably familiar.
He fell asleep almost immediately, launched into a world of unearthly shrieking, screams of pain, torture, agony, as the sound of his own ragged breathing provided a metronome keeping track of the passage of time. Dean became vaguely aware of something constricting him, holding him tight as he felt something warm and wet, like blood, on the back of his neck as voices whispered his name in the flashes of dark and red.
A hand wrapping around his wrist, gripping tight, jolted Dean awake, panting heavily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the motel room, as his brain wrapped itself around the reality that Sam, still damp and naked from the shower, had climbed into bed with him.
Sam's face was pressed against the back of his brother's neck, whispering his name like a prayer. Dean then noticed that all the blankets had been ripped off the bed and the knuckles on his left hand, the one Sam was holding, were sore and split. “Nightmare?”
Already it was fading, like shadows from the light. “Hell,” he replied just as simply as Sam had asked.
“I thought you didn't remember anything.”
“I don't...not really. I'll get flashes and then they'll be gone.” He turned on the mattress to face Sam, the proximity reminding him just how long it had been. Dean had thought it was odd that God would pick someone who liked to fuck and get fucked by his baby brother, but maybe such things weren't considered a morally gray area in light of an impending apocalypse. They hadn't done anything since before Dean had gone to Hell, and he wondered if that was the source of some of that awkward tension between them after the secrets and uncertainties.
Feeling Sam's breath hot against his cheek, Dean gave an experimental roll of his hips against Sam's, grinning at the groan it elicited from his brother before it was covered in a kiss so insistent it was like Sam saw Dean at his last chance at salvation.
Which wasn't that far from the truth, Dean thought, until one of Sam's hands worked its way into his boxers and started fisting at Dean's cock, and all the noise in his head became radio static.
“Sammy,” he murmured when their mouths parted, catching his brother's gaze, certain that the glassy, green depths, pupils blown wide with desperate hunger mirrored Dean's own. Sam kissed his ear like an apology, working his way down Dean's neck, across his collarbone, down his chest while relinquishing his grip on Dean's dick to hook his fingers under the elastic band of Dean's boxers, pulling them down to his knees in one swift motion. Dean felt his cock twitch from the cool air of the motel room and let out a strangled cry when the sensation was replaced with the tortuous, wet heat of Sam's mouth.
Fingers entwined in his brother's hair, Dean thought that he could get on board with a god who didn't see this as a Hell-worthy sin.
Dean's breath hitched in his throat, knowing that he wasn't going to last much longer with the way Sam's mouth was so eagerly pumping him, one hand kneading at Dean's ass as the other worked at his own dick. When Dean arched his back off the bed, animal instincts kicking in, desiring his own release, Sam pulled back, giving his brother a self-satisfied grin as he repositioned himself, completely covering Dean's body with his own, and bringing their mouths back together with a bruising force as they started to grind against one another. Reaching between his body and Sam's, Dean grabbed both of their cocks, stroking urgently, the kiss becoming their lips occasionally brushing as they panted heavily. Sam rested his face at the crook of Dean's neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there, as if trying to leave a mark of his own to compete with the brand on his brother's shoulder, and when one of his hands joined Dean's, the both of them stroking each other together, Dean lost all control, the pressure that had been building in his loins getting released with a grunt and a cry of his brother's name. Then Sam was joining him, his come mixing with Dean's own on both of their stomachs.
Sam rolled off of Dean, Dean turning to follow his brother, facing each other on the bed, their foreheads pressed together. Dean couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he was supposed to say but couldn't find the words. He leans closer, capturing Sam's mouth with his own instead, kissing Sam lazily, their limbs still intertwined.
Dean's last conscious thought before falling asleep was about how this was the most normal things had felt since being pulled out of Hell.
+
They stopped at the town hall in the next town over from Reynolds, going through blueprints of the sewage system to find which lines would take them into Reynolds and directly to the high school. They made a photocopy and returned to the car, pulling their bags and any weapons they thought they might need. They knew they were dealing with something, but they weren't exactly sure what that was, which made packing interesting. They ended up taking a lot of salt rounds, a rifle, the shotgun, a ten pound bag of salt, two flashlights, and Ruby's knife.
The water main opened up in the Penobscot River, so the duffels got tossed in the back seat as they drove to the waterfront. It looked to be about an eight mile walk until they hit the high school, but Dean was adamant about not driving the Impala into a town that was invaded with one thousand birds. This particular drainage pipe seemed to be for maintenance access since there were stairs going down the riverbank directly to it, and while Sam didn't appreciate that the opening was only four feet tall, the blueprints claimed that it opened up into a ten foot diameter after two hundred feet.
“Brains before beauty,” Dean quipped, throwing a flashlight at Sam that he almost fumbled into the river just three feet below the bottom step they were standing on. Sam rolled his eyes, shouldering the duffel as he got on his hands and knees and crawled into the pipe. “This was one part of the job I have not missed.”
“At least this part's dry,” Sam replied, grateful that the runoff was actually in a different pipe below them and the maintenance access one that they were in only filled when there was an excess of water like during a heavy rain or snow melt.
They crawled in silence until reaching where the pipe opened up high enough to stand. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just a focused one as Sam was trying to balance the flashlight between his head and shoulder with his neck bent awkwardly, looking out for anything that might be sharp or dead on the bottom of the pipe. Sticking his hand on a rusty nail or a dead rat wasn't something Sam wanted to do. He felt much better when he could stretch back out and walk normally and also appreciated the walkway running along the edge of the pipe so they didn't have to walk the entire way in knee deep waste water. Sam reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the blueprints that would serve as their map to the high school. It looked like this was the only main to follow until hitting the town line, so they had a few miles before they'd need directions. He started off down the pipe, hearing his brother fall into step behind him.
“Did you go on any long walks through the sewer without me?” Glancing over at Dean, Sam expected to see pain or sadness flash through his eyes as he asked about Sam's time without him, but he seemed surprisingly nonchalant.
Of course after discovering that Sam had broken his promise and then lied about using his powers, he bet nothing else that could've happened in those four months would upset his brother. “I, uh, did a lot of reading. Followed some leads on people that claimed they'd gotten out of Hell. Turns out they were all crazy.”
Dean chuckled dryly. “That seems like the easier option sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, not wanting to elaborate any further on those four months. He figured Dean could fill in the gaps. He had followed a lot of leads and then Ruby showed up. There had been so many mistakes, so many failures, before Sam had finally gotten it right, finally exorcised a demon with a thought and sent it back to Hell without killing the person who had been possessed. Each one he had hoped would be Lilith, or would at least get him a demon that was willing to barter information, to make a trade so it didn't get sent back, but the more time that had passed, the more hope Sam had lost.
“It's probably for the best I don't remember anything.” Dean's candidness was still startling to Sam, a sharp contrast to the secrets he had kept. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the news that their mother had been raised a hunter. She'd always felt like a stranger to Sam, and this new information, so completely different from any of the stories he'd been told by his father growing up, made her feel even more distant. “One of the perks of being pulled out by an angel, I suppose. No signs of where I had been, physical or otherwise. Well, except for...” Sam didn't need to look to know that Dean would be rubbing at his shoulder. It had stood out on his brother's pale skin last night more strongly than the tattoo they both shared. “Sometimes I wish I could remember. I don't know if I was fighting, if I was working to get out on my own like...” Dean paused, but Sam had heard the slight hitch in his throat. “Like Dad did.”
Sam didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't think that after this much time, after everything that had happened, that Dean would still be trying to measure himself up against Dad. Although, Sam supposed, while his brother was the one trying to measure up, he himself was the one actually following in the man's footsteps, on a revenge mission trying to find Lilith much as John had sought after Yellow Eyes.
A little over two miles was when they reached the first intersection, their pipe becoming three. They took the one to the right, following that for another four miles until the next intersection with large pipes. This was the town line; one would take them into Reynolds and the other two looped back around. Sam went to pull out the blueprints again, but Dean stopped him, grabbing his arm. “What is it?”
“They haven't had power for a week and a half, now, right?” Dean sounded more like he was making a point than asking a question. Dean motioned at the pipes with his flashlight, and then Sam understood what his brother was inferring. If the town hadn't had power they hadn't had water, either, and one of the pipes didn't have a steady stream rushing out of it. It didn't even have a trickle, for that matter. “I'm like Sherlock Holmes.”
“If you say so,” Sam replied, shaking his head with a smile. “Still gonna need to look at these, though, unless you can use your powers of deductive reasoning to get us to the school?”
“Not unless they put street signs down here.” They crawled into the main pipe for Reynolds, reaching yet another intersection of empty pipes after twenty feet and able to see more beyond that. “But that would just make things too easy.”
It became a maze after that, Sam hoping in some places that they weren't just walking in circles because it was all starting to look the same. He made Dean stop and wait a few times, trying to connect where he thought they should be on the blueprints to where they wanted to be. If this ended correctly, the basement in the high school had a grate in case of flooding that went directly to the sewer, so they should come across a ladder at the end of their wanderings that put them right inside the school without risking being in the open with those birds, whether they be controlled by spirits, demons, or just plain diseased.
An hour passed and Sam felt like it was taking longer than it should have and was ready to confess to Dean that he thought they were lost when he heard his brother calling for him from up ahead. Sam jogged to catch up and found Dean staring at a ladder that led to a grate above their heads. “This it?”
It was dark on the other side of the grate, and Sam knew from the time that the sun hadn't set yet, so they had definitely found the inside of some building. He just hoped it was the high school or that Sam at least hadn't directed them to the opposite side of town from where they wanted to be. “Should be,” Sam said, and from the way Dean looked over at him, Sam could tell that his brother knew he wasn't completely sold.
Sam took both of the bags as Dean started up first, fighting against gravity to push up the heavy grate and move it to the side so they could climb through. Sam handed the bags through the hole before pulling himself up, and from the stacks of desks and chairs in the corner, it certainly looked like they'd ended up in the right place. He helped Dean put the grate back, and as they straightened to explore the rest of the building, both of their hands shot into the air. In front of them was a man in his fifties in a police uniform with a badge that read Town of Reynolds, pointing a gun back and forth at the two of them.
Lieutenant Masterson, Sam read on his uniform, looked frazzled, like his last nerve had been worn thin years ago. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“I'm Luke Skywalker; I'm here to rescue you.” Dean shot a smirk back at Sam who was meeting his brother with his own incredulous gaze. “I've always wanted to say that.”
+
Once they'd gotten Masterson - or Harry, as he'd introduced himself - to lower his weapon, he just needed to look at their forged identification and was convinced that they were animal control and that they had been sent to help. Well, the last part wasn't a lie, anyway - they were there to help. Once they were brought upstairs and saw all the cots and sleeping bags set up in the gymnasium with the windows all taped and boarded up like the town was expecting a hurricane, Dean figured they were so desperate at this point that he could've told them that he and Sam were sent from the future to save the town, and they probably would've been believed.
“Didn't know anything was wrong at first,” Harry was explaining. “Spotted the first pair about mid-April. We've gotten ravens before, usually a pair that'll nest, so we just figured that was what was going on. But more kept showing up everyday. Became too hard to keep track of their numbers a long time ago. There's five thousand people in this town - there's at least two birds per person, possibly three. But you boys will want to talk to Marli. She works at a university in Orono, studies animal behavior. She hasn't a clue what's going on here either but she's the local bird expert.”
Dean caught his brother's gaze, and he just shrugged noncommittally in response. They couldn't even pretend they knew anything about birds in a conversation with a biologist, but Dean didn't really think they needed to. They were from animal control and didn't claim to be experts. They just needed to be able to trap or kill the ravens. Or destroy whatever was drawing them to the town.
“There's something we've been wondering, Lieutenant.” This time it was Dean being puzzled since he had no idea what Sam might be referring to. “We read about this in a newspaper. If the power had been cut, how did you get the word out? The article mentioned cell phones, but...” Sam held his up, motioning that it was useless.
“Problem with moving the entire town to the high school was the metal in the walls. Can't get any reception in the building short of hanging out a window. Also such a small town there's only one part of it where you can pick up a decent signal, so the Spencers volunteered to stay in their house. They were given every cell phone in the town to call all the papers, radio stations, anyone to try and get word out that we needed help. That was nine days ago. Nice to know someone's writing about us, though. When was the article published?”
“Would've been six days ago. In Missouri.”
Masterson shook his head slowly, looking near tears. Even Dean couldn't think of anything to say. The idea that they had called the media in all the states from Maine to Missouri, possibly beyond, and that might have been the only one to report it while five thousand people lived together in a high school that was probably built to only hold one tenth of that number just waiting for it to end or for help to show up... “God bless the both of you for coming all the way up here to help.”
There was a pregnant silence as they made their way to a section of offices that must have included the principal's because all of a sudden Dean felt like he was in trouble. He cleared his throat awkwardly, causing Masterson to pause outside of a frosted glass door. “The article mentioned that the power company had been trying to fix things for you guys but kept getting driven off.”
“Well it's nice to know the rest of the world hasn't forgotten about us yet,” came a voice from behind Dean. He turned to see a woman in her thirties with dark, curly hair. She look tired, strained, just like Lieutenant Masterson and every other person they'd passed in the building. “You two really made it in from the outside?”
“They came in through the sewers,” Harry answered for them, speaking with an awe that Dean wondered if was based in the fact that the officer couldn't believe no one had thought of that already to get the entire town out. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is Doctor Austin.”
“Marli,” she said, shaking each of their hands. “We're not at a conference - no need to be formal. Are you two related or, uh...” Yeah, that, too, Dean thought as Sam responded quickly that they were brothers. Like they hadn't crossed into that gray area years ago. “And you both work in animal control?”
“It's the family business,” Dean answered, trying to ignore the fresh pang in his heart that accompanied that statement. It had a whole new meaning now. Before it was just them and their father, but now, knowing their mother had been raised like this, and their grandfather had been a hunter too. What started as revenge and became a responsibility was now starting to feel like fate. “I think we should talk about what's happened here so we can try and figure out what needs to be done.”
Marli nodded at Masterson, who opened the office door and motioned for them to enter and sit down. The room was just as dark as the rest of the place - more boarded up windows. This one they'd actually seemed to have run out of two by fours and it was metal locker doors barricading the glass. Once everyone was seated, the pair wasted no time in getting Dean and Sam caught up.
They skipped what Harry had already talked about. Austin elaborated on how she'd arrived in June, intrigued by the unusual behavior displayed by the ravens amassing in one place in such large numbers and working to document it. Aside from sheer numbers, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until August when dead birds started showing up - hawks, owls, even an eagle, all natural predators of ravens - their eyes pecked out and wings ripped to shreds.
Then in the last month it escalated. The elementary school's boys' and girls' soccer teams were waiting outside for their parents after practice and the birds attacked. There were no serious injuries, mostly cuts and scratches. Two days later they had a town meeting about what to do about the birds, and when they all went to go back home their tires had all been deflated, and the ravens watched them ominously as they walked home, swooping at their heads, their feathers ghosting at their skin, fluttering against their hair.
The next day was a second town meeting. Marli brought up that the behavior might be caused by disease, the kids that were attacked needed to be monitored. The board, at a loss on how to keep the people safe, worked out an ordinance where people couldn't leave their homes as they worked on trying to trap and exterminate the animals. After two days all the power had been cut, forcing the move to the high school, entire families moving with all the food they could carry, escorted by anyone in town who had a gun and volunteered to help. The Spencers, as they'd already heard about, had their own generator and took everyone's cell phones, staying on their own to get word out for help. They haven't been able to contact them since, and that was just over a week ago.
Right away the birds started testing the building. It was a brand new high school, this year being the first it had been open, and being in central Maine it had been built to withstand winter's hard winds, the weight of snow, even hail. The glass was reinforced with a wire mesh, so once they broke through the glass, there was barely enough time to get the windows boarded up before they stretched out or ripped through the wire. It seemed quiet for a while, so an officer would poke outside to check, but the birds would suddenly all be there and diving at the door, trying to get through the crack before it was slammed shut and locked, but so far those who were checking had been faster. In the meantime tensions were running high, and they've had to force some people apart. It was just a matter of time before they'd have to break out a fight. They were actually hoping for just a fight since a full on riot seemed more likely.
Dean looked over at his brother who nodded back at him. This sounded like something right up their alley all right. “I think we should get outside,” Sam said. “Get a feel for what we're dealing with.” Dean had a few scenarios running through his mind. He'd heard of spirits controlling animals, but he was also open to the possibility of witchcraft, demons, or a curse. Definitely needed to check for EMF.
“I recommend you wait until tomorrow. They've been more active in the dark, which is unusual since ravens are typically more active during the day. They're scavengers, don't do so well at night.” Marli seemed almost excited that she was able to witness such behavior.
Harry leaned forward, hands clasped with his elbows resting on his knees. “You boys comfortable with firearms? Recommend you bring some protection.”
Eyeing the duffel bag he'd placed on the floor, Dean wondered if he'd be needing birdshot or the salt rounds. “We came prepared.”
A police officer that looked like he was just out of high school ran into the room, a German shepherd following him and a piece of paper clenched tightly in his fist. “Lieutenant, we saw this dog outside with this tied to its collar.”
“Is that the Spencers' dog?” Its fur was matted in some places with dirt, other spots looked like it might have been blood. Masterson held out a hand, “Give that here.” He unfolded it carefully, face falling as he read. “It's a letter from Suzanne,” Harry said heavily. “Eric Spencer's dead. He was putting more gasoline in the generator and the birds got him.” He looked over at Dean and Sam. “Will you excuse us, please?”
Once they got into the hallway and shut the door behind them, Dean knew they had to get out to that house. “We need to look at the body.”
“We need to get Suzanne Spencer back safely,” Sam said pointedly. “Those ravens shredded tires and destroyed power lines. There might not be much of a body left.”
They meandered aimlessly, not really sure where they were going but soon managed to find the cafeteria. It was dinner time. “Either way we need to get to that house. Why'd it have to be birds? Those beady little eyes... Can't tell what they're thinking. Could've been planning this for all we know.”
“You don't think it's supernatural?”
“Oh I know it's supernatural. Just saying.” Dean looked around the room, watching people eating mechanically, like they'd lost all hope. And these people didn't even know yet that one of their own had been killed. “Way people treat this planet it was just a matter of time before mother nature rebelled.”
“Yeah.” Sam scoffed, “And you're so environmentally friendly with all the takeout in styrofoam containers and a car with lousy fuel economy.”
“Hey! No dissing my baby.” Running through what they'd learned in his head, Dean wondered if it was some weird scientist kink to be so interested in these ravens going berserk and killing people, or if it was really as suspicious as it seemed. “What do you think about a witch?”
“Maybe. Witches tend to have a higher body count, though. Unless it's all just a really elaborate cover up. We can check for a hex bag at the Spencers' house tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sam seemed anxious, like there was somewhere he'd rather be. “So what to we do in the meantime?”
He knew they should probably go hit up the library and see if they could turn up anything interesting in the town's history, but Dean had a more immediate goal in mind. “First thing's first - I'm going to get me some grub.”
+
Sam had a hard time sleeping in the hallway, families lined up in sleeping bags and cots all around them, but it wasn't the circumstances. Ever since Florida he had been having difficulty sleeping, with Dean dead and back and then in Hell and back again. Learning that his brother had been brought back by an angel because God didn't want him to use his powers certainly hadn't helped, so all night Sam stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns in the lines and occasionally looking over at Dean, who was sleeping soundly, just to make sure he was still there.
He stayed like that until daylight, getting up to check and load the weapons in an empty classroom until Dean woke up. Sam started to familiarize himself with the map of the town they'd gotten from Lieutenant Masterson after dinner, the fastest route to the Spencers' home highlighted, and didn't even notice that his brother had arisen until he was in the classroom with Sam, offering up a cup of coffee and a danish.
“We can't carry too much - might have to move quickly.” Sam took a sip of coffee, letting the bitterness sit on his tongue for a moment, ignoring how Dean's eyebrow raised as he examined the weapons. “I've been awake for a few hours already.”
“Uh huh.” His brother leaned against the desk that Sam had opened the map up on, Sam subconsciously stepping in closer, near enough to feel the heat radiating off of Dean's skin. He wanted to touch him, to burn away the memory of his cold skin and blood against his hands, but they were at a job and that would break one of their unwritten rules. “Looks like, what, four miles to the house?”
“Four and a half. They're on a hill with an apple orchard on the property - we're not going to have a lot of cover.” Sam had found a book on birds in the school's library before they called it a night. It said that ravens could be distinguished from crows since they didn't flap their wings as much, relied more on soaring to get around, so being amongst trees when dealing with birds that did best in the open would've been more ideal. “I got some birdshot. We should bring salt rounds just in case, the EMF reader, and I think fire would be a good idea.”
“Well finish your breakfast and we'll get going.”
They headed out an hour later, Marli and Harry wanting to give them some luck as they unlocked the doors. Some people from the town were standing around watching, regarding Dean and Sam warily - word had traveled quickly about who they were and why they were there. The town of Reynolds wanted it to be over but didn't want to get their hopes up.
The brightness from the sun and the color-changing leaves were almost blinding compared to the dark of inside the school. Reynolds had an eerie feel to it - visible downed power lines and cars still sitting where they had been when sharp bills punctured the tires. Sam held a lighter and aerosol can at the ready while Dean had the shotgun, eyes watching the sky but nothing moved, not even a breeze.
They crossed the parking lot slowly, relaxing slightly when they reached the road that was lined with tall oak and pine trees that provided at least temporary shelter from above. Sam heard a sharp laugh from his brother, turning to see the sign that Dean had read: Edgar Allen Poe High School. Perched on top of the engraved granite sign was a bronze statue of a raven.
“Nevermore,” Dean commented. Even Sam had to admit that it couldn't just be a coincidence. “Dude it's gotta be a witch. Demons and spirits don't appreciate irony as much as those crafty bitches.”
A flapping sound from the tree just overhead made both of them bring up their weapons, scanning the air for the source of the noise but finding nothing.
“Let's get moving.” Sam got his bearings, noting street names and figuring out which direction they needed to be heading in. He thought about the possibility of it being a witch as they walked, but to Sam it didn't add up. He'd brought up yesterday that witches tended to have a higher body count, some sort of sacrifice was necessary for their spells, but witches were also more direct. Only Eric Spencer had been killed so far, so if he had been the intended target despite all the attacks, he should've died when the ravens showed up instead of them unsuccessfully going after the kids and then the entire town first.
If anything the birds seemed angry, like vengeful spirits they had encountered. They arrived and attacked, and when the population of Reynolds, Maine decided to stay in their homes, the ravens cut the power, driving them to the only building in the town large enough to shelter everyone temporarily that had a generator, the high school. The Spencers were the only ones who didn't move to the high school, so when Eric went out to put more gasoline in the generator, he was killed.
It almost seemed to Sam like Edgar Allen Poe High School was the source of it all. Whatever the birds were trying to do or prove, he was starting to believe that it had to do with the school, and Sam made a mental note to look into it at the library once they got back with Suzanne Spencer.
“Hey, Major Tom! Is this the address?” Dean asked, snapping Sam out of his reverie. He hadn't realized that he had zoned out as they stood in front of a mailbox that was next to a steep, uphill driveway.
“Yeah, this is right.” He could see through the trees where they thinned out and the orchard next to the house began. “You should talk to Mrs. Spencer, get her to come back with us and try to find anything unusual in the house. I'll check outside, find Mr. Spencer's body and check for EMF.”
Sam could hear his brother banging on the front door and then talking as he rounded the outside of the house, looking for the generator. He found it at the back of the house next to a bulkhead with wooden doors that must have led to the basement. The generator was running, so Eric Spencer had at least accomplished his task before he was killed, likely saving his wife from freezing to death. There was dried blood in the grass, which Sam followed to the bulkhead. He lifted the doors and almost dropped them at the sight.
Eric Spencer's body was twisted like he had fallen down the stairs, a hand still resting on the door handle. He'd almost made it, but the sheer number of birds would have been overwhelming. His chest was torn to ribbons, and Sam had to shake away the memories of Dean's body, similarly ripped apart by Hellhounds. His body cavity had been completely cleaned out - the birds had removed all the organs, and from what Sam could see, the eyes and tongue were missing, as well. This made Sam wonder if the birds were corporeal after all, being controlled by something or someone, since taking those body parts for food seemed like normal scavenger behavior. He thought back to the witch theory - possibly there were some spells that needed actual human organs. Sam would have to wait and see if Dean turned up a hex bag in the house, but in the meantime, he needed to scan the body for EMF.
The reader picked up nothing. Sam checked for traces of sulfur or ectoplasm but still nothing. He glanced back at the basement door and paused, reaching down to pick up a glossy black feather. Hearing the front door creak open the slam shut, Sam put the feather in his pocket and hurried up the steps, shutting the doors to hide the body as Dean and Eric Spencer's widow rounded the back of the house. His brother introduced him to Suzanne gently, her barely registering Sam's presence as her gaze was focused on the bulkhead, knowing that's where her husband's body was. Mrs. Spencer's expression was blank as she pulled her sweater tighter, fiddling with her wedding ring as she did so. Whatever last words she was saying to her husband, Sam figured she was finished when she turned and started to walk down the driveway, leading the way back to the high school.
“Did you find anything?” Dean asked, voice low to keep Suzanne from making out details of what was being said.
Pulling the feather out of his pocket, Sam held it out for his brother to take. “Just this. And the body... The eyes and tongue were gone. So were the organs - liver, kidneys, stomach, intestines, everything was cleaned out. Was there anything in the house?”
“Nothing unusual considering that they've been shut in for nearly two weeks and then her husband was killed two days ago. Didn't get too much information out of Suzanne - saying she's a little detached would be an understatement.”
“That's what happens when you watch someone you love get ripped to shreds, and there's nothing you can do to stop it,” Sam mumbled, but from the expression on his brother's face, he could tell that Dean had heard him.
They arrived back at the town's main street, the one the high school was off of, and all of a sudden the sky went dark. Dean and Sam looked up, guns raised, at the same time Suzanne Spencer let out an agonizing scream. “Run!” Dean yelled, and Sam looked behind them to see Mrs. Spencer bolt towards the school. They took off behind her, glancing skywards every so often to see how much closer, how much lower, the ravens were getting.
Sam couldn't believe how many of them there were - it seemed like they almost completely blocked out the sky. They reached the end of the parking lot before the flock dropped, Sam hearing his brother's shotgun going off and looking back in time to see several of the birds twist to the side, but then they kept on coming. It was hard to tell if Dean had missed or not, but the ravens were flying so densely that Sam doubted it was possible to miss. Dropping the aerosol can and lighter to the ground, Sam reached behind him to grab the gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans, wanting to test rock salt on the birds just in case. He aimed at the flock and fired, feeling a flash of triumph as one of the ravens flickered then disappeared.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, unloading the shotgun to replace the birdshot with salt rounds. “Where's Suzanne?”
Firing off a couple more shots at some birds he thought were circling too closely to his brother, Sam looked around and couldn't find her. “I think she got inside.”
“Sammy, drop!” As Sam hit the pavement, he heard the shotgun go off and saw the wisp of a vanished spirit where his head had been seconds before. He took Dean's outstretched hand to help him up. “You okay?”
“I'm fine. We need to get into the school before we run out of ammo.”
“Couldn't agree with you more.”
Sam shot at a raven that was getting too close, keeping the gun raised and, back-to-back with Dean, they made their way back indoors as quickly as possible.
THIS STORY CONTINUED ------->