Paraskavedekatriaphobia: extended scene
May 2005
“Sam!” Jessica yells at him with no real malice. “You can't open that umbrella inside.”
“Why not? It's raining.”
“Yes, but it's bad luck to open an umbrella inside the house. You have to wait until you're outside.”
“First of all,” he tells her with a smile that shows his dimples, “this is an apartment, not a house - so the rules are probably different. Second, there is no porch or awning out there. If I wait to open the umbrella outside, I will already be wet.”
“So, bad luck doesn't bother you?”
“Jess, bad luck has never affected me.”
oo0oo
an excerpt from the journal of John Winchester
13-May, 2005: I was wrong. I thought I knew what we were hunting. All of the research and interviews led me to believe that we were after the spirits of two teenage girls, Rachel Hart and Emily Horner. Rachel was crowned May Queen at the local festival last year and her best friend Emily was a part of her court. After the crowing, the girls had gone to a friend's party - where they had both been drinking - and Rachel lost control of the her car on the drive home. Both girls were killed instantly.
In the weeks leading up to this year's May festival, all of the girls in the running for Queen have each been hurt; one was even killed. According to Regen Tod, last year's runner-up for Queen (later crowned after Rachel's death), the girl who was attacked was always the one in the lead for May Queen. The order of the incidents made it an open and shut case for me.
I had been so sure that I was right.
Dean had been quiet on this one. Well, Dean is often quiet - except when there is a pretty girl or an authority figure around. But this was a different sort of quiet. A thinking quiet. For as much as he would proclaim that it was his brother who was the 'smart one', Dean has always looked at a hunt the way a normal person would look at a puzzle - he likes to figure them out in all aspects. Even more so since Sammy left.
I knew that Dean had been worried, increasingly concerned about his brother's absence and the hole it left in our unit, and that's the reason for all the extra thinking and analysis. But while I can rationalize it in my head, I can't help but get defensive on the outside. Questioning my abilities was Sammy's department - and it wasn't an admirable trait. Now that Sammy is gone, Dean seems to have taken over that function. I can't help but feel a little disheartened by his insubordination.
After our first few hunts without Sammy - hunts in which I had to reprimand Dean, make it clear that I will not tolerate any disrespect to my authority - I noticed a change in him. He is now and has always been a brilliant hunter, but it was if the fire in his eyes had died and been replaced with almost robotic actions. And for a boy - a man - so animated, it was a sad descent.
However, no sooner had I revealed our plan of attack - a simple salt and burn of the two girls' bodies, I noticed something change in his expression. In retrospect, I can see it was doubt, but at the time I only saw it as insolence. I held my tongue, though I'm sure a growl escaped my throat, and left to discover which cemetery the girls had been buried in.
When I returned, I found Dean looking through my research notes. I was furious - he had never felt the need to double-check me before (at least I didn't think he had). He tried to explain...
Dad, did you notice that each of the attacks happened while it was raining? And no one saw anyone or anything out of the ordinary... And, the night of Rachel and Emily's car accident - it was pouring.
And what does that matter, Dean? The forecast is hardly important here. So, the weather was bad - so what? Its just a coincidence!
I didn't think Winchesters believed in coincidences... (muttered)
What? Did you say something Dean? If you have something to say to me... about my ability to do my job, why don't you be a man and say it to my face? Or better yet... just follow your brother's lead and go AWOL!
And that was it. That's all it took - one hint of disappointment and Dean fell back in line with a yes sir and an extinguished fire. I told myself that the take was worth the give.
We went to the graveyard the following morning to locate the girls' graves and do a little recon - Dean's suggestion. After all, he told me, 1) why waste the daytime hours, 2) tombstones are easier to read in the light of day, and 3) we'll get the job done quicker if we already know where to dig and any possible security issues. See? Smart boy.
Rachel's grave was easy to spot. It was large and ornate and near the front of the cemetery. It took a little while longer to locate Emily's, and when we found the right row we also found that Emily had a visitor - Regen Tod was standing in front of the grave with a small white bouquet. I sent Dean ahead to verify the grave and to distract Regen (who had yet to meet Dean) while I looked around further.
After the trip to the cemetery, we picked up some burgers for lunch and went back to the motel to compare notes and check our supplies for the salt and burn.
Report.
The girl seemed distraught about Emily's death, sir.
And?
She told me she was just paying her respects, that Emily's death was a tragedy. She said that she was an innocent, hence the white flowers. One was a rose, but I'm not sure about the other two.
Don't really need a floral lesson here Dean.
Yes sir.
We have enough lighter fluid, but I think we should stock up on salt for tonight.
Yes sir... Maybe we should look for water-proof matches as well.
What?
Well, its been overcast all day and it looks like some storm clouds are moving in. I just don't want to be out there with a couple of angry spirits and no way to light up the corpses.
Fine! Should we also get you a nice pink raincoat and hat? Make sure you won't get wet? Or better yet, you can stay in the car where its safe and warm and dry.
I don't know why I was so quick to put down any suggestion he gave. In fact, when the water-proof matches landed next to the rock salt at the check-out counter, there was a part of me that was happy to see them. Even driving through the steadily increasing rain to the store, the idea of weather-resistant supplies never occurred to me.
By the time we set out for the cemetery that night, the weather had gotten much worse. It was pouring and it looked as if the good townspeople had all decided that they would do better to stay in the warmth of their homes. Really not a bad idea considering the temperature had plummeted. Before we left the car, I told Dean we would be splitting up.
I could see the look he tried to hide. I knew he wanted to suggest we stay together, that we would be safer. I may not be father-of-the-year material, but even I found the look painfully obvious.
We both know that, once the spirits realize what we are trying to do, they will most likely attack. If we work one grave at a time, that leaves us a pretty big gap between bonfires. And, I don't think the second girl will allow us a time-out while we reorganize ourselves at the second grave.
I went to Rachel's grave and sent Dean on to Emily's, figuring that I would be able to finish before he did and then provide him with some back-up. The rain made the dirt a little heavy but it also loosened it up and made digging generally easier. Surprising myself, I finished unearthing the year-old coffin in less time than usual. Like her headstone, Rachel's casket was highly-decorated. I'm sure the girl's parents thought it was pretty, but I was grateful at its inability to withstand the elements and aging.
A couple of well-placed strikes of my shovel was enough to give me my first look at Rachel - the girl was buried in her May Queen crown. I worked fast with the salt and lighter fluid, expecting to meet the late Rachel Hart any moment. But, even as I lit the water-proof match and threw it onto the remains, she never showed. Well, I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I made my way to Emily's grave, alert to the possibility that Dean had not been as lucky. As I rounded the end of the row, I caught sight of the grave, but I didn't see Dean. I took a cautious glance around the area - it was very difficult to see as it seemed that the rain was coming down even harder (impossible!) here than at Rachel's grave.
As I drew nearer, I could see that Dean had begun to dig the hole but that his shovel, now broken, was laying about five feet away. Again keeping an eye and ear open, shot gun at the ready, I crept towards the open grave. I don't know what made me glance inside - father's instinct, maybe. The hole had been half dug, about three feet deep. And inside, Dean was lying face down in a growing puddle of water.
Stealth be damned, I thought as I shouted to Dean while grabbing the back and arm of his jacket. I pulled him from the grave and checked him for injuries (already knowing that he was breathing - could see the ripples he was making in the puddle). The back of his head was covered in blood and mud. I looked over at the broken shovel and could see why it had broken - someone or something had struck Dean from behind. But how did it get the shovel in the first place?
That's when I noticed the flashlight, also broken, not far from the shovel. I was sure I had all the pieces but before I could put them together, I felt Dean begin to stir in my arms.
Son? Son, can you hear me?
Yeah... (he groaned and then opened his eyes) Ye'sir.
What happened?
Something hit me when I went for my flashlight. I fell... I think... and I think I was hit again...
The placement was all wrong. Dean's bag was on one side of the grave and the flashlight and shovel on the other. And, if Dean was hit with the shovel, why was the flashlight broken as well?
Dean, listen to me. Was it Rachel? Or Emily? Did you see them?
Didn't see anyone...
He started to draw himself up - which was good. We needed to get this over with before Emily came back for round two. I hopped into the hole and began shoveling quickly. Dean slowly made his way to his bag and pulled out the salt and lighter fluid. He came back to the grave at the same time that I began to climb out and started sprinkling the girl's remains with the necessary supplies. I lit the match before he had finished and threw it in the grave as he tossed the lighter fluid aside.
I turned to Dean, ready to tell him that I would clean up our mess after I got him back to the motel and made sure he was all right, but I saw something. No, not something. It was a lack of something. Creeping towards Dean was a void in the rain. Lightning chose to flash overhead at that moment and I saw what looked like an arm raise up and then plunge into Dean's side.
His eyes grew wide with the surprise attack and he crumbled to the ground clutching his side.
Should've known you two were together, the figure said in a familiar voice. All the questions you both asked - I could tell you knew more than you were letting on.
Regen?
And this one, she said as she stepped over Dean's now unconscious and bleeding body, he knew more still. I could hear it in the questions he asked. Of course, I could also hear how certain you were in the questions you asked.
If you thought I was so certain, why hurt my son? Why not just let us do what we came to do and then be on our way?
Oh hunter, if it was only that simple... she took (what John assumed was) a step towards him. If the boy there had only taken my word for it that Emily was innocent... But when I saw him digging up that poor girl...
Poor girl? I've never heard a demon talk that way. John began slowly edging over towards Dean.
Emily was of no concern! No threat! She wasn't meant to die and she would not have come back. I told the boy that! That it was probably Rachel's spirit - not Emily's...
Emily died a violent death, too, Regen. How can you be so sure that she wouldn't come back?
Because I dealt with her! She was bound in silence. I explained that she was an unfortunate victim. She had no reason!
How did Dean end up in the grave? John asked as he raised his shot gun at her.
I rolled him there, she taunted and then laughed at the gun. Your useless weapon can't kill me.
No, but it will give you a push in the right direction. John shot at the void and watched as it fell into the still-burning grave. Regen shrieked and sizzled and then boiled into nothingness.
oo0oo
John looked at Dean lying peacefully in the hospital bed. He had hated the idea of leaving his son while in surgery, but he had still needed to clean up at the cemetery, having left all of their weapons lying around and graves dug up - but at the time, he only could think about getting his son the help he needed. He knew that Dean likely had a concussion and was also sporting four deep gashes (that were easily mistaken for stab wounds) in his side from Regen's talon-like fingernails. He returned to the hospital in clean, dry clothes just after Dean had been taken to a room. After a couple hours (spent writing in his journal), Dean woke up.
“Hey Dad,” he said roughly, still groggy.
“How you doing, son?”
“Like the ghost of a wannabe homecoming queen beat me up, I guess.” He smiled an embarrassed little smile, then continued sincerely, almost sadly. “I'm sorry Dad. I should have kept my eyes open. I guess I let my guard down.” He tried to stifle a large yawn. “I'm sorry I second-guessed you. It won't happen again.”
John was at a loss. He had been stubborn and clung to his ideas out of his own wounded pride. Dean had been right and yet here he was apologizing, not realizing that his father's arrogance could have cost him his life.
“Dad?” John mentally shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at his son. Dean was still pale, exhausted, hurting - and his eyes showed the worry that his father would not forgive him.
“Just rest now, son,” he told him, knowing that Dean needed his father and commander right now and not a sad excuse for the man he was supposed to be. “It might be a hard lesson,” he added at the still troubled look on his son's face, “but as long as we learn from it...”
He didn't need to finish the thought. He could see Dean's mind finding a little peace and was now able to succumb to the exhaustion he was feeling. What Dean didn't know, couldn't know, was that the lessons were all for John.
John looked down at the pages he had just scribbled in his journal. Without re-reading them, he already knew that he was becoming a threat to his son's safety. He was getting closer to the evil thing that took his wife and he knew it would be the most dangerous battle he had ever fought. He knew he would need Dean (and Sammy, if he would agree) to help him fight it, but in the meantime he would have to distance himself.
Though he hated the thought of being away from both of his boys, it would be better than losing them outright. He needed to think of Dean's safety and, seeing his son sleeping not quite so peacefully in his hospital bed, he knew he wasn't safe with John.
As soon as Dean was well enough (though, not quite ready for another hunt), John would take his leave. They had split up to hunt separately before - he knew Dean wouldn't question it. In fact, he would probably feel guilty that he was not yet up to the fight. But, John couldn't back down.
They'd separate and John would send Dean on his own hunt when he was able - there was this gig in New Orleans that Jim had told him about that seemed right up Dean's alley. It would be hard to distance himself, harder than either of his sons could ever realize, but it was a necessary evil.
He looked down at his journal once more. He ripped out the two pages he had just written, folded them up, and placed them in a secret pocket in his wallet. Dean's notion of who and what his father was would drastically change if he knew the truth about their recent hunt - but that didn't mean John would forget, or that he should. Keeping the pages would be a reminder to him, a constant and painful reminder of what he almost lost.
Sighing, he picked up his pen once more and began writing a new entry.
oo0oo
Pioggia: elemental (water) demon. Takes human form but can camouflage its surface when wet, becoming invisible to the naked eye. Most dangerous in water (including rain).
Being an elemental, it finds symbolism in all of nature. For instance, a flower will be chosen for its meaning (examples - white oleander for caution, white rose for silence, white poppy for consolation)
Elemental demons are particularly vain and their actions usually reflect that.
They can be destroyed by their opposite element. The piogga are killed with fire; the fuoco (fire) are extinguished with water; the terra (earth) and aria (air) are thought to be extinct.