Fic: Easy Rider (spn reversebang challenge)
So I've just finished my first fanfic challenge together with the wonderful lamapan, and I can think of no better way to start this lj. Hopefully more fic will follow! This inspired me a lot, in any case, and I had so much of fun. Definitely doing it again!
Genre: Horror/mystery
Pairing: minor robo!Sam/OMC
Rating: PG
Word count: ~6700
Spoilers: Up to 6x04
Summary: Sam and Dean are on their way home from Scotland when they're drawn into solving a mysterious disappearance in a small Scottish village.
Notes: It's been fantastic doing a collaboration with lamapan, she's both a brilliant artist and a lovely person; anyone would be lucky to work with her! I'm already looking forward to next time.
A couple of the details in this fic are just references I put in for fun and not necessary to know about to understand the story. They're throwaway lines, mostly. But lamapan suggested that I at least point out that one of them originates from the Battle of Altimarlach, which was a regular slaughter by clan Campbell of clan Sinclair (who are the Earls of Caithness, where the story takes place).
I love H.P. Lovecraft. You may catch one or two references to that as well.
"Do you think Crowley really was trying to hit double digits?" asked Sam pensively as they were leaving the small Scottish village were some years earlier Crowley had spent his probably rather uneventful (but for one thing) living existence.
"Are you seriously asking me to contemplate Crowley's dick?"
"Why not? It's a pertinent question."
"Pertinent, yeah, sure. Not the kind of pertinent I'd like to consider. A pert red-head, now on the other hand…"
"But would you sell your soul for a really big-"
"Are you contemplating my dick now? If you are, stop it. I got nothing to worry about in that area, and that's all you need to know."
"Well-"
"And I'm just going to tell you that I don't care about your dick either, so let's just put this whole conversation to rest."
Sam sank down in his seat, momentarily defeated. Maybe he could ask Castiel later, if he would stick around for a while. He was kind of flighty these days, but always reliably precise in what he did say, at least.
"Anyway, I'm hungry, and that fog looks really thick, so let's grab a bite before going on", Dean continued, and Sam cast an eye out towards the sea just in time to see what looked like a wall of white rolling in towards land, the first tendrils of milk white mist disturbed by the speed of the rental car Rufus' contact had lent them. It really was thick, and Dean even slowed down considerably as the vision worsened.
"Shit, I hope I'm remembering right, I'm sure there was some sort of hotel or something around here…"
"Yeah, if you're not careful you'll pass the whole village, it was really small."
"Wait, I see it. Something-Bay hotel. I'll just drive around the corner and see if I can park somewhere. We may as well stay the night, with this fog."
"And you don't have to get on a plane until tomorrow"
"Shut up."
They got a room, which was nice but pink. Sam contemplated the pattern of large flowers on the wallpaper as he waited for Dean to unload some of his stuff, but decided it was hardly the worst he'd seen. They then went down in search for something to eat, and the hotel manager recommended a nearby pub.
"So a pub is sort of like a diner, I guess," said Dean as they left the hotel, "just with more drinking?"
"And a place to bring the family, apparently."
"As long as I get my food and my beer, I'm happy. Maybe I should try the
haggis!"
"Yeah, and why don't you wear the camo-kilt you bought in Edinburgh to complete the picture of American tourist? And didn’t you get on Crowley's case for wearing a skirt?"
"Come on, I have way better calves than that fucking demon, and you know it. I'm gonna look awesome in it when I do wear it. Which won't be tonight; I have no idea how anyone would go barelegged, and bare-who-knows-what in this weather."
"Everyone we've met so far has been in jeans and jackets, Dean."
"Yeah, a disgrace to their country."
The pub wasn't hard to find despite being pretty much at the other end of the village (which meant a five-minute walk), as it seemed to be the only place with lit-up windows. There were lots of families with young children in the village who went to bed early, the hotel manager had said; the rest either went to the pub or sat at home playing World of Warcraft (Sam thought he could detect a certain air of annoyance at the last muttered words). It was at the end of the small street connecting what seemed pretty much to be the two streets that made up the village.
As they approached, Sam noticed something else that set the building apart; people in there were clearly singing. Though what, was impossible to say; even the Scottish version of English was sometimes hard to understand, and from what he could hear this particular song was probably in Gaelic. He had a brief memory flash of the pitying face of the man at the car-rental, recalling how he'd warned them about the countryfolk up north whom he'd called something unpronounceable, after which he'd accused them of being cheap, speaking Gaelic just to fuck with people, and shagging their many, many sheep. There had been sheep, no question about it - there were possibly more sheep than people up here - but thankfully no lecherous Scotsmen lurking in the bushes.
The pub sign was a picture of a man with bagpipes, which seemed reassuringly tourist-friendly, and as they entered a cozy wood-paneled room with assorted paintings probably done by local talent, a small room-full of curious but friendly eyes were turned their way as the singing petered off.
Dean smiled his most charming smile. "Hey, we heard there was a possibility of a bit of late-night food around here?" he started, looking around for someone who looked as if they were working. The bar was currently unoccupied; everyone was sitting around the tables. Most of them were middle-aged or elderly, though a couple of younger faces stood out in the crowd. One of them was an attractive redhead, who when she got up turned out to be part of the staff, judging from her apron. She greeted them with a smile.
"What can I get you boys?" she asked, lilting Scottish accent clearly charming Dean.
"Well, uh, what do you have? By the way, I'm Dean Winchester, and this is
my brother Sam" he said, gesticulating. "We're just staying for the night.
"I'm Alice, how do you do, welcome to Keiss even if your stay will be short! Just sit down here, you move over a bit John, Martin!"
Two middle-aged men obediently shuffled sideways, leaving a couple of chairs at the end of a rectangular table where also two stout men with short dark hair and beards and a thin woman with graying temples were
seated.
"So what brengs you to Keiss?" one of the men who'd just moved over asked, broad accent evident in the rolling r's and diphthongal vowels. He had almost white hair and beard and a green and red striped cap with a small red pompom at the top. Sam interestedly observed that it bobbed as he spoke. "You're not moore of thoose Amaerican Sinclairs, aere you?"
"No, uh, we were on business for a friend up in Canisbay. Family history sort of thing, but not ours."
"John Sinclair", the man answered with a certain air of pride. "And as long as you're not one of the Campbell cunts you're fine with me!"
"…Right."
"Here are the menus," said returning Alice, "tell me if you've got any questions!"
"In that case, how's the haggis?" The whole table laughed, and Dean grinned at them. "Well, what else should I eat when I come to Scotland?"
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to try the restaurant tomorrow for that, I'm afraid", said Alice, "but maybe I can persuade you to try our pies instead?"
"Pies?
"Minced meat pies. Well, mostly minced meat."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Mostly? Ah, well, we'll try 'em! Sam?"
"Sure, me too."
"And two beers, whatever's good. And get John here whatever he likes", he said and turned back to the other man.
"Very kind of you! Buy me another whisky," he said, gesturing to the glass he hadn't yet emptied in from of him, "and I'll return the favor when you've feneshed the pies."
Alice gave them a smile, and returned towards the kitchens. Dean had just turned back to John to continue the conversation when a loud crash turned both him and Sam's attentions towards the other end of the room. Loud voices were followed by a series of muttered excuses and one man was leaving the pub with angry strides.
"That seemed tense," Dean commented.
"Everyone is tense, these days", John said with a sigh. "There's a real life horror story going on in Keiss right now, and it's weighing on everybody's minds."
"Real life horror story? What do you mean?"
"Desappearances. And as ef that weren't enough… but the desappearances of the wee kiddies feels worst, I think everyone agrees. Two lettle ones, boy and gerl. You'd see the paerents here on a neight like thes, normally, but now…"
"Of course."
John lowered his voice. "And now poor Ewan lost hes wife just two daes ago. He's reight oover there in the corner. Probably doesn't want to be alone, poor bastard."
Sam and Dean looked the way John had nodded, and spotted a heavyset middle-aged man with grey hair and moustaches sitting alone at a small table staring mournfully at the glass in front of him.
"And after what was found on the rever bank up near the lake…"
Sam's interest was definitely piqued, and Dean also lent eagerly forward to catch John's words; he was almost whispering, and it was hard to hear him over all the people in the pub.
"What was it?" Sam asked.
John lent forward until his forehead almost touched Dean's, and Sam moved in closer.
"A human lever."
"A lever?"
"A liver, Dean,"
"Oh."
John Sinclair sighed again and emptied his glass of whisky in one sweep. At that moment Alice showed up with the pies.
"Here you are, two minced meat and liver pies!"
***
The food had been really good (though Dean had spent a good minute staring suspiciously at the amount of vegetables that came with it and completely ignored the potatoes) but when Dean waved Alice over to buy John the whisky he'd promised ("it's a local brewery, very good, you should bring some back home with you") Sam had excused himself saying he needed a bit of air.
He had been feeling a little cramped in the small pub with what seemed like the complete representation of the adult population of Keiss, but mostly he just wanted to be alone for a while. He wasn’t really able to relax around Dean these days, and constantly being on guard was tiring. And frustrating; he really wanted to get laid, but he was a little short on potentials here. The only one he'd considered definitely preferred Dean. Even the ones he hadn't considered seemed to prefer Dean, typically. Just his luck, and he doubted there was even a single hooker in this place; it was hardly even a town, just a couple of streets crossing each other with the hotel the only reason for even stopping here.
So he'd decided for a simple walk for lack of better alternatives. Despite the fog and the light drizzle of rain, Sam felt pretty comfortable in this part of Scotland. The stretches of uninhabited land echoed faintly of home, even though everything seemed to be eternally swept in either rain or fog.
He couldn't see much - it was dark now, as well as foggy - and the silence wrapped around him like cotton, simultaneously muffling all sound and creating a strange echoing effect of his footsteps.
No. Wait. He stopped. The echoes didn't. And they were approaching. Something about them made Sam tense up, readying himself for… well he could think up a wide variety of scenarios. He listened to see if he could discern from which direction the footsteps were coming, and gripped his gun carefully inside his jacket, but all he could hear was that they were getting closer.
Suddenly the fog moved a few feet in front of him and a man stepped out as if from a curtain made of white smoke, making the fog swirl like milk in water. He was tall, probably as tall as Sam, but leaner, and moved with an aura of supreme self-confidence. When he spotted Sam, he stopped and gave him a discerning look.
"A visitor?" his voice was deep and smooth, and as confident as the rest of him, with that lilting Scottish cadence Sam most definitely felt the charm of right now.
"Yeah, me and my brother stopped for the night. The fog surprised us", said Sam and relaxed. Just a man's footsteps, nothing to worry about.
"He's still at the pub."
"Ah, yes, the haar can roll in quickly from the sea", the man said and stepped closer. Now Sam could see that he was very attractive, with high cheekbones and black, wild hair almost covering pale eyes.
Promising. Maybe he could make something of this.
"And didn't you enjoy the pub?" the man asked, smiling a little, looking Sam straight in the eye.
"It was nice, but I was looking for a different sort of company", said Sam, holding his gaze. The man gave him a measuring look, and seemed to deliberate for a moment.
"And how long are you staying?"
"Just for the night."
The man reached out and lightly touched the side of Sam's face with his hand, but then he froze momentarily, as if surprised by his own action. Sam covered the hand with his, moved it to his lips and gently kissed it, all the while keeping eye contact. The man relaxed and smiled, interest bright in his eyes.
"Come with me," he said. "I'd like to find out more about you while I still have the chance."
Well, thought Sam, it seems I found someone who preferred my company after all.
***
Dean woke up to a bright room, swore at the flimsy curtains that were completely unable to keep the morning light out, and turned to see if Sam's bed was still empty. It didn’t even look as if it had been slept in, and he frowned; these things were really starting to get to him now. What was with Sam these days? Something was definitely wrong.
When he came down to the hotel restaurant though, he found Sam at one of the tables sipping coffee.
"Where have you been all night?" he asked, trying for a light and non-accusing tone.
"Found some company. Now, you know about that-"
"Hold it, you got laid? How? With who?"
"The usual way, Dean, it shouldn't be some great mystery to you? I met someone at the way back here last night, that's all. Anyway, I was thinking about looking into this disappearance we heard about. I got some information last night, and apparently there's more to it than regular kidnappings. Even more than that liver that floated ashore."
"What, we're going to start on Scotland's supernatural problems now, too? Don't you think they have we have enough on our plates? And anyway, from what I hear you can hardly take two steps around here without tripping over a ghost, bogle, or damn selkie. We could be busy for the rest of eternity!"
"Why not? We're here, and it's something to do while we wait for the fog to lift. Look, I'm not saying we should deal with all their problems, just that we can take a look!"
Dean sighed, and looked out the window. And did a double-take. "Man, is that fog even possible? But I don't know. I really want to get back."
"We can at least have lunch and talk to Alice? Or that man with the missing wife, if he's there? Then we can decide if it seems like nothing."
"All right, but I'm not making any promises. And I want something to eat anyway. Why are you so eager to stay anyway? Was the sex that good?"
"Shut up. I just got curious, that's all."
"All right, sure, whatever you say."
"If you stop smirking and come now, I promise I'll buy you haggis tonight."
"You better. I'm not staying just cause you found someone willing to take pity on your practically celibate ass"
Sam grinned. "I really wouldn’t call it pity."
"Oh, shut up."
***
When they got there, Alice was at the counter talking to john, and Ewan was smoking a pipe next to them. Sam just ordered a beer, grabbed a couple of menus and sat down at the small table close to the entrance that Dean had claimed. Warm daylight was streaming in through the open door, merrily lighting up dark paneling and the homespun and strangely varied artwork on the walls.
"What is with this weather?" Dean shook his head. "It's just not natural."
"On the contrary; we've got a lot of changeable weather up here, from wenter storms to summer rains. Sometimes all en the same day!"
Sam and Dean looked up to see John Sinclair standing next to their table, Ewan hovering desolately beside him.
"Let me entroduce you," he said, and proceeded to do just that. "Come, let's haeve some lunch and a chat."
"Yeah, please," said Dean, and the other two pulled up a couple of chairs.
"So I hear your wife was one of the disappearances?"
"Sam!"
"What?"
"No, it's all right," said Ewan, "I understand that you're curious after hearing the circumstances." He seemed calm at a first glance, but there was a tension as of a coiled spring in his shoulders, and his eyes were constantly moving back and forth, scanning the room, never resting in one place for long.
"What do you think happened?" asked Dean, with a warning glance at Sam, who just shrugged. He got the conversation going didn't he? With minimum fuss, at that.
"Isn't it obvious!?" The sudden outburst had John patting Ewan's back consolingly.
"Uh… no?"
"It's the Kelpie, of course, the Kelpie! It eats them, all of it except the liver, and it's going to come for me next, I know it." Ewan was moving his hands restlessly, tensing and relaxing the muscles at seemingly random. "I don’t' think this was such a good idea, John. I need to go home." He practically ran out the door.
"Wait!" John called out and went after him.
Sam looked at Dean and raised an eyebrow.
"All right, you win, we'll check it out. Monsters eating people sounds like a gig for us. But I'm gonna finish my lunch first."
***
The fog was gone now, and if they hadn't already talked to Ewan Dean might have been tempted to make another argument for leaving. Well, if they didn't find anything today he still might. As it was, it was clear enough to take the car, and they parked at a small road leading down to the lake from which the river where the liver had been found originated: the Loch of Wester.
When they got down to the shore, the sun had disappeared again and grey heavy clouds hung from the sky, a thin drizzle of rain wet their clothes and heads as they made their way to the shore, making the air damp and hazy. Tufts of grass made the wet ground uneven to navigate, and small bushes and other vegetation brushed the grey surface of the lake.
As a potential murder site, it certainly had its possibilities; there weren't any houses close by, and the fields surrounding it would be completely deserted during the evenings and nights. Probably during most of the daytime too. If the fog rolled in regularly it would prevent detection even further. The only living creature to be seen was a small, shaggy horse that seemed to have been let loose to graze beside the lake. It regarded them curiously from beneath long black bangs.
"I guess this is where it's supposed to live?" said Dean. I'm still not sure I believe it. A man-eating horse?"
"I don't know. The lore says it's supposed to lure children on its back, where they get stuck, and ride down into a lake or stream and drown them, not that it eats adult women."
"So a superglue, child-killing horse."
They both regarded the grazing pony. It snorted noisily.
"You really are a walking encyclopedia of weird." Dean shuddered and turned back to looking at the lake. "Damn, this chill really gets in your bones. Does this country ever get any sun?"
"Apparently, this is the sunniest part of Scotland. And we got some this morning, remember? Anyway, the place where they found the liver is just where the lake flows out into the river. Let's have a look."
They walked the short distance and scanned the immediate area around the outflow. Nothing out of the ordinary immediately presented itself, until Dean hunched down and gazed at a mark in the mud. Sam leaned closer.
"Is that a hoof print?"
"Yeah, I think I see a- Jesus Christ!" Dean exclaimed as a hard push from behind made him topple over and almost tumble into the water. What the hell, Sam?"
Sam was laughing so hard he could hardly answer.
"Was-wasn't me, Dean! The little horsie wants to play!" He put a hand on its withers. "Don't be a stick in the mud."
Dean rolled his eyes at the bad joke. Then he froze. "Sam, get away." He drew his gun.
Sam stopped laughing and looked at his hand. Then he slowly lifted it from the horse's back
"It's just a normal horse. Anyway, the kelpie is supposed to be large, black and have staring wild eyes. Does this look like a kelpie to you?"
The horse snorted again and turned its back on them. It slowly made its way along the shore as it examined the vegetation for edibles.
"I guess not," said Dean, put away his gun and got up. "There's nothing here. The hoof print may as well be from this horse as from a damn Kelpie, if there even is one. We need more information. Let's go ask Alice."
***
"Oh good, there you are!" Alice exclaimed as they entered the pub again. "I have a message from Ewan; he wanted to apologize for running off, and said he had something that you should see if you wanted to know more of the missing children. He's waiting out in old Keiss castle."
"Keiss castle? But why? And where is it?" asked Dean.
"It's just outside the town; you can see it from the road. It's the castle ruin on the edge of the cliffs." She looked worried. "I don't know what's happening to Ewan these days."
"Yeah, a Kelpie sounds a little…"
"No, not that! We all know- well, it's not that, anyway. He's just… different."
"I guess losing your wife can do that to a person." Sam gave him a look, but Dean didn't meet his eyes.
"Maybe," Alice answered, but I'm not sure that was the start of it. Please help him if you can!"
"We will", Dean said reassuringly. "I'm sure he's just grieving."
***
The old castle ruin was smaller than they had expected, precariously balanced at the very edge of the cliffs at the end of a wide grassy heath, with the waves of the sea breaking right underneath. The roof was long gone, and it didn't even look as if it was possible to reach the second floor.
It was also completely empty.
"So where is he?" Dean said impatiently. Sam peered at the stone roof, weighing the possibilities.
"Right here."
At the sudden voice they both turned around to see Ewan standing where the entrance had once been. His face was pale and drawn, and his eyes looked strangely flat in the grey light. The thick fog had begun rolling in again, and he was trailing it behind him as so much smoke.
"Um, ok, Alice said you'd left a message for us back at the pub," said Dean.
"There is something here."
"Here? Why?"
"It's on the second floor."
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't really look that safe, to me," Said Sam.
"There's a ladder. The floor is stable enough."
"Uh, ok I guess," said Dean. "Sam?"
Sam shrugged. He felt strangely tense, as if there was a noise or a smell just out of his reach, something he just couldn't put his finger on.
"Let's have a look." He took out his gun, but hid it from Ewan, and
started up the ladder, Dean just behind him.
The second floor did seem stable, solid stone, and there were traces of people having been there recently. A small table was at the farther end of the roofless room, and something was lying on it. Sam and Dean approached it carefully, and regarded the object. It looked like a small brown bag, unsettling and familiar - a witch bag! They immediately drew their guns and turned around, just to find themselves unable to pull the triggers, or take a single step towards Ewan, the witch who had just managed to trap them.
"I won't let you snoop around anymore, I won't!" he exclaimed, eyes darting back and forth. "I've had enough, enough of interference from everyone. At least you two I can get rid of easily!"
"What do you mean? What interference?" asked Dean.
"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. You'll be dead soon, and I won't have to deal with you anymore."
He started to climb down the ladder. "There won't be anything left to find after my spell is finished."
"Wait!"
No answer.
"What the hell was that? What is he after? Did he kill his own wife?"
"I don't know, Dean, but don’t you think we should be focusing on getting out of here?"
"Any ideas?"
"Can you move at all?"
"No, but- wait, did you hear that?"
Running footsteps were quickly approaching the ruin, and soon someone was climbing up the ladder.
"Wait, don't come up here, it's a trap!" Dean called.
A dark mess of hair appeared at the top of the ladder, followed by the rest of the tall, pale stranger Sam had met the night before. "I know", he said simply, and walked into the room, completely unhindered by the spell that was keeping Sam and dean completely frozen still.
"You!" Sam exclaimed.
"Hello Sam. Nice to see you again. I'm sorry I can't stay, I'm in a bit of a hurry." Then he opened the hex bag, wrinkled his nose, threw something in it out the window and pocketed the rest. "Good bye." And he quickly
went down the ladder.
"Wait! Why are you here? How did you know- oh, fuck it, he's gone."
Their limbs slowly regained their movement, and they tried to hurry the process the best they could by flexing them and tensing and relaxing their muscles. After a pregnant pause Dean asked:
"So… that's who you met last night?"
"Yeah. Problem?"
"No, it's cool. Just… I didn't know you swung that way."
Sam shrugged. "About half the time. Anyway, why are you surprised? You-"
"Yeah, well, anyway," dean interrupted, "what was he doing here?"
Sam shrugged. "I have no idea, but I think that mystery will have to wait."
"Yeah, we should check Ewan's house. He's definitely guilty of something, aside from being a witch, and considering how adamant he was about there being a Kelpie…"
"…He might have the kids. Yeah, you're right."
***
Ewan, Alice told them after a brief stop at the pub again, lived in an old farmhouse about halfway between the village and the nearby Loch of Wester. It was close to a narrow road off the A99 that ran through the village so they took the car, but stopped far enough from the house that Ewan wouldn't hear them if he was inside.
The fog was thickening again, muffling sounds, and hiding them from view as they approached the house. It was an unassuming two-storey house of gray stone with a pointed tiled roof of a slighter darker gray - a house like a thousand others in Scotland. Everything was completely silent. The front door, when they tried it, was locked, but Sam pulled out a lock pick and in a few minutes they were in.
The hall was suspiciously normal, with a coat rack and white walls. They moved inwards as quietly as possible, looking into the kitchen, living room and bathroom on the first floor. Completely empty, and completely silent. There was a door that presumable led to the basement, and stairs leading up to the second floor.
"Upstairs or basement?" Sam whispered.
"Are you kidding? It's always the basement. Except that one time up in that godforsaken town in Massachusetts."
"Yeah, that was a real horror. But you're right, let's go with the more likely option for now."
Dean nodded, and felt the door handle. It easily gave. After a quick look at Sam, he nudged it open until it hit the wall with a quiet thump. Beyond it, stairs led down into complete darkness. They drew their guns.
"Can you smell that?" asked Dean.
"Yeah. Something burning. And something else."
"Let's find out."
They slowly went down the short narrow passage, listening closely for any sounds. At the bottom of the stairs a long, dark hallway with two doors on each side and one at the end stretched out. From the door at the end a faint read light showed through the keyhole and around the sides.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Dean raised his gun and nodded at Sam to take the lead. Sam felt the door handle of the first door on his right. Locked. He felt the others in turn, and they all yielded the same result. He looked at Dean, and nodded towards the final door. Dean nodded back, and together they moved forward as silently as they could.
Despite the red light leaking through, the air was cool, cold almost, and so was the door when Sam lightly touched it. This time Dean moved to open it, and Sam readied his gun to cover him should it be needed. Then in a sudden motion Dean threw the door wide open.
A large but low-ceilinged room greeted them. It was bathed in a dark red light from two eerie fires that seemed to emit no warmth and doing little for visibility, each burning on what seemed like some sort of altar. In the middle of each fire were what must be the two missing children, small bodies naked and pitiful, eyes and mouths wide open in a frozen grimace of fear and pain.
Dean immediately tried to rush forward, but Sam grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Sam!" Dean started angrily, but Sam shook his head ant gestured towards the side of the room. There was a table there, with what seemed like a collection of knives, some herbal and chemical remnants, a large book, a mortar, and some other equipment.
"Who knows what will happen if we touch them. We need to investigate first."
"Damn it, Sam, just look at them!"
"I know. But do you want to end up like them?"
Dean angrily shook his arm off, but went over to the table.
"I know fuck all about witchcraft! What the hell do you expect to find, a fucking manual? Oh, hey, what's this?" He picked up a sheet of paper that lay on the open book.
"A manual?"
"Shut up and point your flashlight over here."
Together they looked at the paper, which turned out to be a letter in spindly writing mostly comprising instructions of where to look for certain rituals.
"Is there anything about a fire? We must get those kids out of there now."
"Hold on a second, Dean! This writing is pretty old. At least I think so; the paper seems new, though…"
"Concentrate!"
"All right, all right! What about this here: "…for ye equal amou't of Specimens to be bathed in ye Fire and saye ye ninth Uerse thrice. Doe not disturb ye chemycalls lest it shall be alle undon." That sounds promising, right?"
"So we just need to remove the "chemycalls"? Where are they?"
"Must be feeding the fire."
They hastily examined the altars, and found them to be simple brick constructions, new and not very skillfully made. They'd probably been built for the sole reason they were now used. The fire seemed to originate from somewhere within them.
"They're probably hollow," said Sam, and Dean nodded.
"Feel for loose bricks in the sides."
"Got it!"
"Me too."
They slowly coaxed the bricks out, and peered into the hollow. A bowl with some unidentifiable contents was burning inside of it. Sam used a pair of tongs he'd found on the table, and Dean a knife to tip the bowls over and out of the altar openings.
The fire went out with a loud sound of air displacement.
At the same time they heard footsteps upstairs. Sam immediately went for
the door, but Dean's voice stopped him.
"They're alive."
"What?"
It was true. The small chests rose and sank as laborious breaths made their way in and out their lungs, and slight tremors shook the skinny, almost emaciated bodies.
"We can't leave them here."
"But he's gonna come down here, and we're trapped!"
"Too late."
There he was; the once normal middle-aged villager, now wild-eyed and grimacing at them in the only way out of the horrible basement. He held another bag of something no doubt disgusting in his hand, which once again froze Sam and Dean to the spot.
Or should have. Sam felt that he wasn't as immobile as he had first thought; slowly at first, but he could feel the spell gradually letting go, and he started towards Ewan, step by excruciatingly slow step.
"Stay back! Stay back! You can't move! I'll kill you! Why are you moving? What are you?" Ewan stepped back with each mad scream, and finally he threw the bag down and ran. With the loss of his will, the hex bag stopped working, and both brothers were free to move again.
"We need to go after him, now."
"Sam, we can't just leave these kids here!"
"But-"
Again footsteps were coming from above, and they tensed. Was he back? No, this was more than one person. But they were going straight to the basement, so they'd have to know there was something there to look for. Sam and Dean kept their guns trained on the doorway, listening as the footsteps came closer and closer.
Then Alice's pale face showed up in the doorway, and they immediately pointed their guns away. Behind her followed two men they hadn't seen before, and John Sinclair. When they spotted the children they rushed to them with horrified and relieved cries.
"Good," said Sam, "you take the kids. We'll go after Ewan."
"He went towards the lake", said John.
"Did you see him?"
The villagers exchanged quick looks. "We did," said Alice, "and if you want to catch him you'd better hurry.
Sam looked at her suspiciously, but decided it could wait until later and followed Dean who was already running up the stairs.
Sam and Dean didn't bother with the car since the lake was very close, and as soon as they'd left the house they only had to follow the sounds of Ewan's' voice. His terrified screams muffled but discernable through the milky fog. The lake must have been even closer than they'd realized, because before they knew it they were standing at the shore. They could still hear Ewan, but saw nothing but thinning mist in the twilight. Then suddenly, something was moving out of the fog. A rider? But he was moving awkwardly on top of the horseback…
Then the equipage came out of the mist completely, and they saw that the rider wasn't so much riding as he was trying to force himself to fall off, only it looked as if he were glued to the horseback. Sam raised his gun, but found himself unable to shoot, some unknown power staying his hand. He glanced at Dean, and saw the he was simply staring at the scene as if transfixed, while the horse, the shaggy, cute pony they'd seen earlier on the very same shore was calmly and without hesitation walking right out into the lake, the screaming man on its back gradually sinking below the surface until they were both gone.
***
They'd returned to the pub afterwards. The kelpie, if that was really what it had been, hadn't returned. The fog had been drifting slowly over the still surface of the lake and not another sound had been heard. Only Ewan's lumpy hat had floated ashore.
At the pub it seemed like the whole village had gathered; the room was filled to the point of bursting, and everybody was talking intently to each other, both chock and relief evident in their voices. Sam made his way to the counter, Dean following in his wake. Alice was there, pale but resolute, serving drinks. She placed two glasses of whisky in front of them.
"They're on the house today."
"Look, we need to tell you about Ewan", said Dean.
"No need. The kelpie took him."
"Well… yeah. How did you know?"
"He protects us. Always has." John's voice surprised them, but they made room for him and Alice poured another whisky.
"But how could Ewan…?" said Alice in a hollow voice. "He always seemed so nice. Him and his wife. It was only after that horrible man came to visit he became strange!"
"Who?" asked Sam, instantly alert.
"I don't know, really. A relative from America, he said."
Sam turned to Dean, gestured towards the pocked where he kept the papers they'd found in Ewan's basement and raised an eyebrow. Dean hesitated a moment, but pulled them out. If these people believed in Kelpies, witches were probably no big deal.
"That relative was probably a witch", he said. We had a look at this on our way back, and though the language is extremely old fashioned it's pretty much instructions to prolong your life. By stealing it from others."
"But we still don't know what happened to his wife", Sam continued.
"The Kelpie", said Alice. "He must have taken her first, but couldn't get to Ewan for some reason. Perhaps his powers protected him. We should have realized right away that-"
"How could we have known?" John interrupted. "It's all completely mad!"
"About the Kelpie," said Dean, "Do you actually know it? Is it dangerous?"
"No, well, yes, in a way," answered Alice. "He watches out for us, like I said. He leaves messages sometimes but no one knows how - they just sort of show up. There was one that told us to go to Ewan's house after you'd left. We rarely see him, but he likes to take a look at visitors, too see if they pose a threat. It's strange that you two haven't seen him, actually."
"What does it look like?"
"We're not entirely sure about the horse form, though most of us agree that he's most likely the small and shaggy horse sometimes seen around but owned by no one. In his human form he's a tall, handsome man with black hair."
***
They set out early the next morning. No fog, but a thin drizzle of rain hung in the gray air.
"I can't believe you slept with a monster again."
"Shut up, how was I to know? Besides, he wasn't the killer. Or, well, at least, he wasn't the bad guy."
"Maybe next time I'll just wait until you put the moves on someone. I won't have to do any work anymore, just follow Sam's cock where it points."
"I thought you weren't interested in my cock?"
"Not outside its function as a monster radar I'm not. Anyway, shouldn't we have stayed and ganked the Kelpie?"
"Why?"
"He did kill a woman."
"Yeah, a fucking witch who fed on little kids. No way, he can stay here and do our job for us."
"And your personal feelings have nothing to do with it?"
"Well, he did say he'd welcome me back with open arms and open-"
"Jesus Christ, Sam, shut up!"
"You're just jealous."
"Stop smirking and watch out for sheep. We're going home"
As they left Keiss, a small, shaggy horse watching the departing car from a small grassy knoll shimmered and shifted into a tall, handsome man with black hair. He looked down the road with a thoughtful expression on his face.
Genre: Horror/mystery
Pairing: minor robo!Sam/OMC
Rating: PG
Word count: ~6700
Spoilers: Up to 6x04
Summary: Sam and Dean are on their way home from Scotland when they're drawn into solving a mysterious disappearance in a small Scottish village.
Notes: It's been fantastic doing a collaboration with lamapan, she's both a brilliant artist and a lovely person; anyone would be lucky to work with her! I'm already looking forward to next time.
A couple of the details in this fic are just references I put in for fun and not necessary to know about to understand the story. They're throwaway lines, mostly. But lamapan suggested that I at least point out that one of them originates from the Battle of Altimarlach, which was a regular slaughter by clan Campbell of clan Sinclair (who are the Earls of Caithness, where the story takes place).
I love H.P. Lovecraft. You may catch one or two references to that as well.
"Do you think Crowley really was trying to hit double digits?" asked Sam pensively as they were leaving the small Scottish village were some years earlier Crowley had spent his probably rather uneventful (but for one thing) living existence.
"Are you seriously asking me to contemplate Crowley's dick?"
"Why not? It's a pertinent question."
"Pertinent, yeah, sure. Not the kind of pertinent I'd like to consider. A pert red-head, now on the other hand…"
"But would you sell your soul for a really big-"
"Are you contemplating my dick now? If you are, stop it. I got nothing to worry about in that area, and that's all you need to know."
"Well-"
"And I'm just going to tell you that I don't care about your dick either, so let's just put this whole conversation to rest."
Sam sank down in his seat, momentarily defeated. Maybe he could ask Castiel later, if he would stick around for a while. He was kind of flighty these days, but always reliably precise in what he did say, at least.
"Anyway, I'm hungry, and that fog looks really thick, so let's grab a bite before going on", Dean continued, and Sam cast an eye out towards the sea just in time to see what looked like a wall of white rolling in towards land, the first tendrils of milk white mist disturbed by the speed of the rental car Rufus' contact had lent them. It really was thick, and Dean even slowed down considerably as the vision worsened.
"Shit, I hope I'm remembering right, I'm sure there was some sort of hotel or something around here…"
"Yeah, if you're not careful you'll pass the whole village, it was really small."
"Wait, I see it. Something-Bay hotel. I'll just drive around the corner and see if I can park somewhere. We may as well stay the night, with this fog."
"And you don't have to get on a plane until tomorrow"
"Shut up."
They got a room, which was nice but pink. Sam contemplated the pattern of large flowers on the wallpaper as he waited for Dean to unload some of his stuff, but decided it was hardly the worst he'd seen. They then went down in search for something to eat, and the hotel manager recommended a nearby pub.
"So a pub is sort of like a diner, I guess," said Dean as they left the hotel, "just with more drinking?"
"And a place to bring the family, apparently."
"As long as I get my food and my beer, I'm happy. Maybe I should try the
haggis!"
"Yeah, and why don't you wear the camo-kilt you bought in Edinburgh to complete the picture of American tourist? And didn’t you get on Crowley's case for wearing a skirt?"
"Come on, I have way better calves than that fucking demon, and you know it. I'm gonna look awesome in it when I do wear it. Which won't be tonight; I have no idea how anyone would go barelegged, and bare-who-knows-what in this weather."
"Everyone we've met so far has been in jeans and jackets, Dean."
"Yeah, a disgrace to their country."
The pub wasn't hard to find despite being pretty much at the other end of the village (which meant a five-minute walk), as it seemed to be the only place with lit-up windows. There were lots of families with young children in the village who went to bed early, the hotel manager had said; the rest either went to the pub or sat at home playing World of Warcraft (Sam thought he could detect a certain air of annoyance at the last muttered words). It was at the end of the small street connecting what seemed pretty much to be the two streets that made up the village.
As they approached, Sam noticed something else that set the building apart; people in there were clearly singing. Though what, was impossible to say; even the Scottish version of English was sometimes hard to understand, and from what he could hear this particular song was probably in Gaelic. He had a brief memory flash of the pitying face of the man at the car-rental, recalling how he'd warned them about the countryfolk up north whom he'd called something unpronounceable, after which he'd accused them of being cheap, speaking Gaelic just to fuck with people, and shagging their many, many sheep. There had been sheep, no question about it - there were possibly more sheep than people up here - but thankfully no lecherous Scotsmen lurking in the bushes.
The pub sign was a picture of a man with bagpipes, which seemed reassuringly tourist-friendly, and as they entered a cozy wood-paneled room with assorted paintings probably done by local talent, a small room-full of curious but friendly eyes were turned their way as the singing petered off.
Dean smiled his most charming smile. "Hey, we heard there was a possibility of a bit of late-night food around here?" he started, looking around for someone who looked as if they were working. The bar was currently unoccupied; everyone was sitting around the tables. Most of them were middle-aged or elderly, though a couple of younger faces stood out in the crowd. One of them was an attractive redhead, who when she got up turned out to be part of the staff, judging from her apron. She greeted them with a smile.
"What can I get you boys?" she asked, lilting Scottish accent clearly charming Dean.
"Well, uh, what do you have? By the way, I'm Dean Winchester, and this is
my brother Sam" he said, gesticulating. "We're just staying for the night.
"I'm Alice, how do you do, welcome to Keiss even if your stay will be short! Just sit down here, you move over a bit John, Martin!"
Two middle-aged men obediently shuffled sideways, leaving a couple of chairs at the end of a rectangular table where also two stout men with short dark hair and beards and a thin woman with graying temples were
seated.
"So what brengs you to Keiss?" one of the men who'd just moved over asked, broad accent evident in the rolling r's and diphthongal vowels. He had almost white hair and beard and a green and red striped cap with a small red pompom at the top. Sam interestedly observed that it bobbed as he spoke. "You're not moore of thoose Amaerican Sinclairs, aere you?"
"No, uh, we were on business for a friend up in Canisbay. Family history sort of thing, but not ours."
"John Sinclair", the man answered with a certain air of pride. "And as long as you're not one of the Campbell cunts you're fine with me!"
"…Right."
"Here are the menus," said returning Alice, "tell me if you've got any questions!"
"In that case, how's the haggis?" The whole table laughed, and Dean grinned at them. "Well, what else should I eat when I come to Scotland?"
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to try the restaurant tomorrow for that, I'm afraid", said Alice, "but maybe I can persuade you to try our pies instead?"
"Pies?
"Minced meat pies. Well, mostly minced meat."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Mostly? Ah, well, we'll try 'em! Sam?"
"Sure, me too."
"And two beers, whatever's good. And get John here whatever he likes", he said and turned back to the other man.
"Very kind of you! Buy me another whisky," he said, gesturing to the glass he hadn't yet emptied in from of him, "and I'll return the favor when you've feneshed the pies."
Alice gave them a smile, and returned towards the kitchens. Dean had just turned back to John to continue the conversation when a loud crash turned both him and Sam's attentions towards the other end of the room. Loud voices were followed by a series of muttered excuses and one man was leaving the pub with angry strides.
"That seemed tense," Dean commented.
"Everyone is tense, these days", John said with a sigh. "There's a real life horror story going on in Keiss right now, and it's weighing on everybody's minds."
"Real life horror story? What do you mean?"
"Desappearances. And as ef that weren't enough… but the desappearances of the wee kiddies feels worst, I think everyone agrees. Two lettle ones, boy and gerl. You'd see the paerents here on a neight like thes, normally, but now…"
"Of course."
John lowered his voice. "And now poor Ewan lost hes wife just two daes ago. He's reight oover there in the corner. Probably doesn't want to be alone, poor bastard."
Sam and Dean looked the way John had nodded, and spotted a heavyset middle-aged man with grey hair and moustaches sitting alone at a small table staring mournfully at the glass in front of him.
"And after what was found on the rever bank up near the lake…"
Sam's interest was definitely piqued, and Dean also lent eagerly forward to catch John's words; he was almost whispering, and it was hard to hear him over all the people in the pub.
"What was it?" Sam asked.
John lent forward until his forehead almost touched Dean's, and Sam moved in closer.
"A human lever."
"A lever?"
"A liver, Dean,"
"Oh."
John Sinclair sighed again and emptied his glass of whisky in one sweep. At that moment Alice showed up with the pies.
"Here you are, two minced meat and liver pies!"
***
The food had been really good (though Dean had spent a good minute staring suspiciously at the amount of vegetables that came with it and completely ignored the potatoes) but when Dean waved Alice over to buy John the whisky he'd promised ("it's a local brewery, very good, you should bring some back home with you") Sam had excused himself saying he needed a bit of air.
He had been feeling a little cramped in the small pub with what seemed like the complete representation of the adult population of Keiss, but mostly he just wanted to be alone for a while. He wasn’t really able to relax around Dean these days, and constantly being on guard was tiring. And frustrating; he really wanted to get laid, but he was a little short on potentials here. The only one he'd considered definitely preferred Dean. Even the ones he hadn't considered seemed to prefer Dean, typically. Just his luck, and he doubted there was even a single hooker in this place; it was hardly even a town, just a couple of streets crossing each other with the hotel the only reason for even stopping here.
So he'd decided for a simple walk for lack of better alternatives. Despite the fog and the light drizzle of rain, Sam felt pretty comfortable in this part of Scotland. The stretches of uninhabited land echoed faintly of home, even though everything seemed to be eternally swept in either rain or fog.
He couldn't see much - it was dark now, as well as foggy - and the silence wrapped around him like cotton, simultaneously muffling all sound and creating a strange echoing effect of his footsteps.
No. Wait. He stopped. The echoes didn't. And they were approaching. Something about them made Sam tense up, readying himself for… well he could think up a wide variety of scenarios. He listened to see if he could discern from which direction the footsteps were coming, and gripped his gun carefully inside his jacket, but all he could hear was that they were getting closer.
Suddenly the fog moved a few feet in front of him and a man stepped out as if from a curtain made of white smoke, making the fog swirl like milk in water. He was tall, probably as tall as Sam, but leaner, and moved with an aura of supreme self-confidence. When he spotted Sam, he stopped and gave him a discerning look.
"A visitor?" his voice was deep and smooth, and as confident as the rest of him, with that lilting Scottish cadence Sam most definitely felt the charm of right now.
"Yeah, me and my brother stopped for the night. The fog surprised us", said Sam and relaxed. Just a man's footsteps, nothing to worry about.
"He's still at the pub."
"Ah, yes, the haar can roll in quickly from the sea", the man said and stepped closer. Now Sam could see that he was very attractive, with high cheekbones and black, wild hair almost covering pale eyes.
Promising. Maybe he could make something of this.
"And didn't you enjoy the pub?" the man asked, smiling a little, looking Sam straight in the eye.
"It was nice, but I was looking for a different sort of company", said Sam, holding his gaze. The man gave him a measuring look, and seemed to deliberate for a moment.
"And how long are you staying?"
"Just for the night."
The man reached out and lightly touched the side of Sam's face with his hand, but then he froze momentarily, as if surprised by his own action. Sam covered the hand with his, moved it to his lips and gently kissed it, all the while keeping eye contact. The man relaxed and smiled, interest bright in his eyes.
"Come with me," he said. "I'd like to find out more about you while I still have the chance."
Well, thought Sam, it seems I found someone who preferred my company after all.
***
Dean woke up to a bright room, swore at the flimsy curtains that were completely unable to keep the morning light out, and turned to see if Sam's bed was still empty. It didn’t even look as if it had been slept in, and he frowned; these things were really starting to get to him now. What was with Sam these days? Something was definitely wrong.
When he came down to the hotel restaurant though, he found Sam at one of the tables sipping coffee.
"Where have you been all night?" he asked, trying for a light and non-accusing tone.
"Found some company. Now, you know about that-"
"Hold it, you got laid? How? With who?"
"The usual way, Dean, it shouldn't be some great mystery to you? I met someone at the way back here last night, that's all. Anyway, I was thinking about looking into this disappearance we heard about. I got some information last night, and apparently there's more to it than regular kidnappings. Even more than that liver that floated ashore."
"What, we're going to start on Scotland's supernatural problems now, too? Don't you think they have we have enough on our plates? And anyway, from what I hear you can hardly take two steps around here without tripping over a ghost, bogle, or damn selkie. We could be busy for the rest of eternity!"
"Why not? We're here, and it's something to do while we wait for the fog to lift. Look, I'm not saying we should deal with all their problems, just that we can take a look!"
Dean sighed, and looked out the window. And did a double-take. "Man, is that fog even possible? But I don't know. I really want to get back."
"We can at least have lunch and talk to Alice? Or that man with the missing wife, if he's there? Then we can decide if it seems like nothing."
"All right, but I'm not making any promises. And I want something to eat anyway. Why are you so eager to stay anyway? Was the sex that good?"
"Shut up. I just got curious, that's all."
"All right, sure, whatever you say."
"If you stop smirking and come now, I promise I'll buy you haggis tonight."
"You better. I'm not staying just cause you found someone willing to take pity on your practically celibate ass"
Sam grinned. "I really wouldn’t call it pity."
"Oh, shut up."
***
When they got there, Alice was at the counter talking to john, and Ewan was smoking a pipe next to them. Sam just ordered a beer, grabbed a couple of menus and sat down at the small table close to the entrance that Dean had claimed. Warm daylight was streaming in through the open door, merrily lighting up dark paneling and the homespun and strangely varied artwork on the walls.
"What is with this weather?" Dean shook his head. "It's just not natural."
"On the contrary; we've got a lot of changeable weather up here, from wenter storms to summer rains. Sometimes all en the same day!"
Sam and Dean looked up to see John Sinclair standing next to their table, Ewan hovering desolately beside him.
"Let me entroduce you," he said, and proceeded to do just that. "Come, let's haeve some lunch and a chat."
"Yeah, please," said Dean, and the other two pulled up a couple of chairs.
"So I hear your wife was one of the disappearances?"
"Sam!"
"What?"
"No, it's all right," said Ewan, "I understand that you're curious after hearing the circumstances." He seemed calm at a first glance, but there was a tension as of a coiled spring in his shoulders, and his eyes were constantly moving back and forth, scanning the room, never resting in one place for long.
"What do you think happened?" asked Dean, with a warning glance at Sam, who just shrugged. He got the conversation going didn't he? With minimum fuss, at that.
"Isn't it obvious!?" The sudden outburst had John patting Ewan's back consolingly.
"Uh… no?"
"It's the Kelpie, of course, the Kelpie! It eats them, all of it except the liver, and it's going to come for me next, I know it." Ewan was moving his hands restlessly, tensing and relaxing the muscles at seemingly random. "I don’t' think this was such a good idea, John. I need to go home." He practically ran out the door.
"Wait!" John called out and went after him.
Sam looked at Dean and raised an eyebrow.
"All right, you win, we'll check it out. Monsters eating people sounds like a gig for us. But I'm gonna finish my lunch first."
***
The fog was gone now, and if they hadn't already talked to Ewan Dean might have been tempted to make another argument for leaving. Well, if they didn't find anything today he still might. As it was, it was clear enough to take the car, and they parked at a small road leading down to the lake from which the river where the liver had been found originated: the Loch of Wester.
When they got down to the shore, the sun had disappeared again and grey heavy clouds hung from the sky, a thin drizzle of rain wet their clothes and heads as they made their way to the shore, making the air damp and hazy. Tufts of grass made the wet ground uneven to navigate, and small bushes and other vegetation brushed the grey surface of the lake.
As a potential murder site, it certainly had its possibilities; there weren't any houses close by, and the fields surrounding it would be completely deserted during the evenings and nights. Probably during most of the daytime too. If the fog rolled in regularly it would prevent detection even further. The only living creature to be seen was a small, shaggy horse that seemed to have been let loose to graze beside the lake. It regarded them curiously from beneath long black bangs.
"I guess this is where it's supposed to live?" said Dean. I'm still not sure I believe it. A man-eating horse?"
"I don't know. The lore says it's supposed to lure children on its back, where they get stuck, and ride down into a lake or stream and drown them, not that it eats adult women."
"So a superglue, child-killing horse."
They both regarded the grazing pony. It snorted noisily.
"You really are a walking encyclopedia of weird." Dean shuddered and turned back to looking at the lake. "Damn, this chill really gets in your bones. Does this country ever get any sun?"
"Apparently, this is the sunniest part of Scotland. And we got some this morning, remember? Anyway, the place where they found the liver is just where the lake flows out into the river. Let's have a look."
They walked the short distance and scanned the immediate area around the outflow. Nothing out of the ordinary immediately presented itself, until Dean hunched down and gazed at a mark in the mud. Sam leaned closer.
"Is that a hoof print?"
"Yeah, I think I see a- Jesus Christ!" Dean exclaimed as a hard push from behind made him topple over and almost tumble into the water. What the hell, Sam?"
Sam was laughing so hard he could hardly answer.
"Was-wasn't me, Dean! The little horsie wants to play!" He put a hand on its withers. "Don't be a stick in the mud."
Dean rolled his eyes at the bad joke. Then he froze. "Sam, get away." He drew his gun.
Sam stopped laughing and looked at his hand. Then he slowly lifted it from the horse's back
"It's just a normal horse. Anyway, the kelpie is supposed to be large, black and have staring wild eyes. Does this look like a kelpie to you?"
The horse snorted again and turned its back on them. It slowly made its way along the shore as it examined the vegetation for edibles.
"I guess not," said Dean, put away his gun and got up. "There's nothing here. The hoof print may as well be from this horse as from a damn Kelpie, if there even is one. We need more information. Let's go ask Alice."
***
"Oh good, there you are!" Alice exclaimed as they entered the pub again. "I have a message from Ewan; he wanted to apologize for running off, and said he had something that you should see if you wanted to know more of the missing children. He's waiting out in old Keiss castle."
"Keiss castle? But why? And where is it?" asked Dean.
"It's just outside the town; you can see it from the road. It's the castle ruin on the edge of the cliffs." She looked worried. "I don't know what's happening to Ewan these days."
"Yeah, a Kelpie sounds a little…"
"No, not that! We all know- well, it's not that, anyway. He's just… different."
"I guess losing your wife can do that to a person." Sam gave him a look, but Dean didn't meet his eyes.
"Maybe," Alice answered, but I'm not sure that was the start of it. Please help him if you can!"
"We will", Dean said reassuringly. "I'm sure he's just grieving."
***
The old castle ruin was smaller than they had expected, precariously balanced at the very edge of the cliffs at the end of a wide grassy heath, with the waves of the sea breaking right underneath. The roof was long gone, and it didn't even look as if it was possible to reach the second floor.
It was also completely empty.
"So where is he?" Dean said impatiently. Sam peered at the stone roof, weighing the possibilities.
"Right here."
At the sudden voice they both turned around to see Ewan standing where the entrance had once been. His face was pale and drawn, and his eyes looked strangely flat in the grey light. The thick fog had begun rolling in again, and he was trailing it behind him as so much smoke.
"Um, ok, Alice said you'd left a message for us back at the pub," said Dean.
"There is something here."
"Here? Why?"
"It's on the second floor."
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't really look that safe, to me," Said Sam.
"There's a ladder. The floor is stable enough."
"Uh, ok I guess," said Dean. "Sam?"
Sam shrugged. He felt strangely tense, as if there was a noise or a smell just out of his reach, something he just couldn't put his finger on.
"Let's have a look." He took out his gun, but hid it from Ewan, and
started up the ladder, Dean just behind him.
The second floor did seem stable, solid stone, and there were traces of people having been there recently. A small table was at the farther end of the roofless room, and something was lying on it. Sam and Dean approached it carefully, and regarded the object. It looked like a small brown bag, unsettling and familiar - a witch bag! They immediately drew their guns and turned around, just to find themselves unable to pull the triggers, or take a single step towards Ewan, the witch who had just managed to trap them.
"I won't let you snoop around anymore, I won't!" he exclaimed, eyes darting back and forth. "I've had enough, enough of interference from everyone. At least you two I can get rid of easily!"
"What do you mean? What interference?" asked Dean.
"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. You'll be dead soon, and I won't have to deal with you anymore."
He started to climb down the ladder. "There won't be anything left to find after my spell is finished."
"Wait!"
No answer.
"What the hell was that? What is he after? Did he kill his own wife?"
"I don't know, Dean, but don’t you think we should be focusing on getting out of here?"
"Any ideas?"
"Can you move at all?"
"No, but- wait, did you hear that?"
Running footsteps were quickly approaching the ruin, and soon someone was climbing up the ladder.
"Wait, don't come up here, it's a trap!" Dean called.
A dark mess of hair appeared at the top of the ladder, followed by the rest of the tall, pale stranger Sam had met the night before. "I know", he said simply, and walked into the room, completely unhindered by the spell that was keeping Sam and dean completely frozen still.
"You!" Sam exclaimed.
"Hello Sam. Nice to see you again. I'm sorry I can't stay, I'm in a bit of a hurry." Then he opened the hex bag, wrinkled his nose, threw something in it out the window and pocketed the rest. "Good bye." And he quickly
went down the ladder.
"Wait! Why are you here? How did you know- oh, fuck it, he's gone."
Their limbs slowly regained their movement, and they tried to hurry the process the best they could by flexing them and tensing and relaxing their muscles. After a pregnant pause Dean asked:
"So… that's who you met last night?"
"Yeah. Problem?"
"No, it's cool. Just… I didn't know you swung that way."
Sam shrugged. "About half the time. Anyway, why are you surprised? You-"
"Yeah, well, anyway," dean interrupted, "what was he doing here?"
Sam shrugged. "I have no idea, but I think that mystery will have to wait."
"Yeah, we should check Ewan's house. He's definitely guilty of something, aside from being a witch, and considering how adamant he was about there being a Kelpie…"
"…He might have the kids. Yeah, you're right."
***
Ewan, Alice told them after a brief stop at the pub again, lived in an old farmhouse about halfway between the village and the nearby Loch of Wester. It was close to a narrow road off the A99 that ran through the village so they took the car, but stopped far enough from the house that Ewan wouldn't hear them if he was inside.
The fog was thickening again, muffling sounds, and hiding them from view as they approached the house. It was an unassuming two-storey house of gray stone with a pointed tiled roof of a slighter darker gray - a house like a thousand others in Scotland. Everything was completely silent. The front door, when they tried it, was locked, but Sam pulled out a lock pick and in a few minutes they were in.
The hall was suspiciously normal, with a coat rack and white walls. They moved inwards as quietly as possible, looking into the kitchen, living room and bathroom on the first floor. Completely empty, and completely silent. There was a door that presumable led to the basement, and stairs leading up to the second floor.
"Upstairs or basement?" Sam whispered.
"Are you kidding? It's always the basement. Except that one time up in that godforsaken town in Massachusetts."
"Yeah, that was a real horror. But you're right, let's go with the more likely option for now."
Dean nodded, and felt the door handle. It easily gave. After a quick look at Sam, he nudged it open until it hit the wall with a quiet thump. Beyond it, stairs led down into complete darkness. They drew their guns.
"Can you smell that?" asked Dean.
"Yeah. Something burning. And something else."
"Let's find out."
They slowly went down the short narrow passage, listening closely for any sounds. At the bottom of the stairs a long, dark hallway with two doors on each side and one at the end stretched out. From the door at the end a faint read light showed through the keyhole and around the sides.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Dean raised his gun and nodded at Sam to take the lead. Sam felt the door handle of the first door on his right. Locked. He felt the others in turn, and they all yielded the same result. He looked at Dean, and nodded towards the final door. Dean nodded back, and together they moved forward as silently as they could.
Despite the red light leaking through, the air was cool, cold almost, and so was the door when Sam lightly touched it. This time Dean moved to open it, and Sam readied his gun to cover him should it be needed. Then in a sudden motion Dean threw the door wide open.
A large but low-ceilinged room greeted them. It was bathed in a dark red light from two eerie fires that seemed to emit no warmth and doing little for visibility, each burning on what seemed like some sort of altar. In the middle of each fire were what must be the two missing children, small bodies naked and pitiful, eyes and mouths wide open in a frozen grimace of fear and pain.
Dean immediately tried to rush forward, but Sam grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Sam!" Dean started angrily, but Sam shook his head ant gestured towards the side of the room. There was a table there, with what seemed like a collection of knives, some herbal and chemical remnants, a large book, a mortar, and some other equipment.
"Who knows what will happen if we touch them. We need to investigate first."
"Damn it, Sam, just look at them!"
"I know. But do you want to end up like them?"
Dean angrily shook his arm off, but went over to the table.
"I know fuck all about witchcraft! What the hell do you expect to find, a fucking manual? Oh, hey, what's this?" He picked up a sheet of paper that lay on the open book.
"A manual?"
"Shut up and point your flashlight over here."
Together they looked at the paper, which turned out to be a letter in spindly writing mostly comprising instructions of where to look for certain rituals.
"Is there anything about a fire? We must get those kids out of there now."
"Hold on a second, Dean! This writing is pretty old. At least I think so; the paper seems new, though…"
"Concentrate!"
"All right, all right! What about this here: "…for ye equal amou't of Specimens to be bathed in ye Fire and saye ye ninth Uerse thrice. Doe not disturb ye chemycalls lest it shall be alle undon." That sounds promising, right?"
"So we just need to remove the "chemycalls"? Where are they?"
"Must be feeding the fire."
They hastily examined the altars, and found them to be simple brick constructions, new and not very skillfully made. They'd probably been built for the sole reason they were now used. The fire seemed to originate from somewhere within them.
"They're probably hollow," said Sam, and Dean nodded.
"Feel for loose bricks in the sides."
"Got it!"
"Me too."
They slowly coaxed the bricks out, and peered into the hollow. A bowl with some unidentifiable contents was burning inside of it. Sam used a pair of tongs he'd found on the table, and Dean a knife to tip the bowls over and out of the altar openings.
The fire went out with a loud sound of air displacement.
At the same time they heard footsteps upstairs. Sam immediately went for
the door, but Dean's voice stopped him.
"They're alive."
"What?"
It was true. The small chests rose and sank as laborious breaths made their way in and out their lungs, and slight tremors shook the skinny, almost emaciated bodies.
"We can't leave them here."
"But he's gonna come down here, and we're trapped!"
"Too late."
There he was; the once normal middle-aged villager, now wild-eyed and grimacing at them in the only way out of the horrible basement. He held another bag of something no doubt disgusting in his hand, which once again froze Sam and Dean to the spot.
Or should have. Sam felt that he wasn't as immobile as he had first thought; slowly at first, but he could feel the spell gradually letting go, and he started towards Ewan, step by excruciatingly slow step.
"Stay back! Stay back! You can't move! I'll kill you! Why are you moving? What are you?" Ewan stepped back with each mad scream, and finally he threw the bag down and ran. With the loss of his will, the hex bag stopped working, and both brothers were free to move again.
"We need to go after him, now."
"Sam, we can't just leave these kids here!"
"But-"
Again footsteps were coming from above, and they tensed. Was he back? No, this was more than one person. But they were going straight to the basement, so they'd have to know there was something there to look for. Sam and Dean kept their guns trained on the doorway, listening as the footsteps came closer and closer.
Then Alice's pale face showed up in the doorway, and they immediately pointed their guns away. Behind her followed two men they hadn't seen before, and John Sinclair. When they spotted the children they rushed to them with horrified and relieved cries.
"Good," said Sam, "you take the kids. We'll go after Ewan."
"He went towards the lake", said John.
"Did you see him?"
The villagers exchanged quick looks. "We did," said Alice, "and if you want to catch him you'd better hurry.
Sam looked at her suspiciously, but decided it could wait until later and followed Dean who was already running up the stairs.
Sam and Dean didn't bother with the car since the lake was very close, and as soon as they'd left the house they only had to follow the sounds of Ewan's' voice. His terrified screams muffled but discernable through the milky fog. The lake must have been even closer than they'd realized, because before they knew it they were standing at the shore. They could still hear Ewan, but saw nothing but thinning mist in the twilight. Then suddenly, something was moving out of the fog. A rider? But he was moving awkwardly on top of the horseback…
Then the equipage came out of the mist completely, and they saw that the rider wasn't so much riding as he was trying to force himself to fall off, only it looked as if he were glued to the horseback. Sam raised his gun, but found himself unable to shoot, some unknown power staying his hand. He glanced at Dean, and saw the he was simply staring at the scene as if transfixed, while the horse, the shaggy, cute pony they'd seen earlier on the very same shore was calmly and without hesitation walking right out into the lake, the screaming man on its back gradually sinking below the surface until they were both gone.
***
They'd returned to the pub afterwards. The kelpie, if that was really what it had been, hadn't returned. The fog had been drifting slowly over the still surface of the lake and not another sound had been heard. Only Ewan's lumpy hat had floated ashore.
At the pub it seemed like the whole village had gathered; the room was filled to the point of bursting, and everybody was talking intently to each other, both chock and relief evident in their voices. Sam made his way to the counter, Dean following in his wake. Alice was there, pale but resolute, serving drinks. She placed two glasses of whisky in front of them.
"They're on the house today."
"Look, we need to tell you about Ewan", said Dean.
"No need. The kelpie took him."
"Well… yeah. How did you know?"
"He protects us. Always has." John's voice surprised them, but they made room for him and Alice poured another whisky.
"But how could Ewan…?" said Alice in a hollow voice. "He always seemed so nice. Him and his wife. It was only after that horrible man came to visit he became strange!"
"Who?" asked Sam, instantly alert.
"I don't know, really. A relative from America, he said."
Sam turned to Dean, gestured towards the pocked where he kept the papers they'd found in Ewan's basement and raised an eyebrow. Dean hesitated a moment, but pulled them out. If these people believed in Kelpies, witches were probably no big deal.
"That relative was probably a witch", he said. We had a look at this on our way back, and though the language is extremely old fashioned it's pretty much instructions to prolong your life. By stealing it from others."
"But we still don't know what happened to his wife", Sam continued.
"The Kelpie", said Alice. "He must have taken her first, but couldn't get to Ewan for some reason. Perhaps his powers protected him. We should have realized right away that-"
"How could we have known?" John interrupted. "It's all completely mad!"
"About the Kelpie," said Dean, "Do you actually know it? Is it dangerous?"
"No, well, yes, in a way," answered Alice. "He watches out for us, like I said. He leaves messages sometimes but no one knows how - they just sort of show up. There was one that told us to go to Ewan's house after you'd left. We rarely see him, but he likes to take a look at visitors, too see if they pose a threat. It's strange that you two haven't seen him, actually."
"What does it look like?"
"We're not entirely sure about the horse form, though most of us agree that he's most likely the small and shaggy horse sometimes seen around but owned by no one. In his human form he's a tall, handsome man with black hair."
***
They set out early the next morning. No fog, but a thin drizzle of rain hung in the gray air.
"I can't believe you slept with a monster again."
"Shut up, how was I to know? Besides, he wasn't the killer. Or, well, at least, he wasn't the bad guy."
"Maybe next time I'll just wait until you put the moves on someone. I won't have to do any work anymore, just follow Sam's cock where it points."
"I thought you weren't interested in my cock?"
"Not outside its function as a monster radar I'm not. Anyway, shouldn't we have stayed and ganked the Kelpie?"
"Why?"
"He did kill a woman."
"Yeah, a fucking witch who fed on little kids. No way, he can stay here and do our job for us."
"And your personal feelings have nothing to do with it?"
"Well, he did say he'd welcome me back with open arms and open-"
"Jesus Christ, Sam, shut up!"
"You're just jealous."
"Stop smirking and watch out for sheep. We're going home"
As they left Keiss, a small, shaggy horse watching the departing car from a small grassy knoll shimmered and shifted into a tall, handsome man with black hair. He looked down the road with a thoughtful expression on his face.