Strange Brew 9/10

[safiyabat]

Title: Strange Brew
Author: safiyabat
Artist: Stormbrite
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Dean Winchester
Word count: 51,698 (fic) / 5,560 (chapter)
Summary: Solving the case doesn't solve the problem.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Inappropriate use of a corpse
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No, really.

Sam stayed up late into the night reading the book that Rachel had given him. He’d gotten his father out of his hair for a while, but that was only half the battle. More like a third of the battle, he thought with a twist to his lips that even his brother couldn’t see. Not only did he have to help find the rogue witch so that the coven could deal with her, but he had to keep his father off the trail of the good guys. Sure, no problem at all.

Oh, right. And keep his family safe from the rogue witch. Fun times. All in a day’s work, really.


Normal ten year olds did not have to deal with this. Normal ten year olds spent their summers doing chores and having fun, maybe going to camp. They did not contemplate witchcraft or saving their family from terrible if creative death. They didn’t give the slightest thought to sorting good witches from bad. If they thought about magic at all it probably had something to do with top hats and bunny rabbits, and damn John Winchester for putting him and Dean into a situation where they even needed to think about this kind of thing anyway.

That wasn’t getting him anywhere. Unfortunately, neither was the book. Almost everything in there talked about protecting people in a home from witchcraft - as in, in a settled home. The “charms” talked about burying things in the dirt near the property line or putting this or that in the foundation. Sometimes they recommended planting a specific shrub near the front or rear door to the residence. For a moment, just a second, Sam contemplated adding little containers to the side of the Impala and driving around with shrubs on the side - it would be hell on the mileage but hey, if they didn’t get hit by spell work while they barreled along the highway it would all be worth it, right?

Other options, equally impractical, included hex bags. These were different from cursing hex bags and seemed to be more properly called “mojo bags,” but at the end of the day they worked on some of the same principles. He’d have to create the thing - collect the components with no money of his own (because there was no way Dean wouldn’t notice the emergency fund dwindling) and without anyone noticing Sam performing some kind of ritual in the middle of the motel or wherever they happened to be at the time - and slip it into their bags or pockets or into the Impala without them noticing. Or maybe he could just hand it to them, because that would go over swimmingly. “Here, Dad. I realize that you think all spell work comes from the devil and you’re not sure that I don’t fall into that category myself, but have this thing that looks very much like a hex bag that I made you.”

Dad would burn him at the stake.

He did find some suggestions. There were runes and sigils that might help, if carved the right way or painted with the right materials at the right time. He was pretty sure that he could come up with those on short notice; it couldn’t be all that different from any of the other tools that they used, like silver or iron or salt. Ditto for the cat’s eye shells.

“Sammy, turn out the light and get some sleep,” Dean groaned from the couch. “Tomorrow’s Saturday and you know Dad isn’t going to care that you stayed up all night reading when it comes to shooting practice.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Dad wouldn’t care if he’d stayed up all night bleeding. Nothing was more important to their father than firing guns, no matter that almost nothing that they fought was affected by bullets. “There’s a word for that,” Sam muttered, turning the light off and stuffing the book under his pillow.

“Yeah, it’s called being a good father,” Dean retorted. “Shut up.”

“Dean, where have you and Dad been going when I’m not around?” The boy rolled over and tried to get comfortable.

“If we wanted you to know that we’d bring you with us, stupid.”

Sam growled in exasperation. “Look. The witch targets people who harm women and kids, and we both know that while Dad isn’t exactly a saint when it comes to women he doesn’t hurt them.”

“You shut up about Dad and women, Sammy,” Dean warned. “He doesn’t - he’s faithful, okay?”

Sam bit back a retort. It was important to Dean that this illusion get maintained. He didn’t know why, but that was part of what was so wrong with him he supposed. “Okay, Dean. Anyway, the witch is getting ideas about Dad from seeing one of us, and it’s probably me. But she has to have had access to Dad’s car at some point, because she grabbed his shirt, right? So there has to be someplace where she had access to Dad’s car, where she knew he’d be there. So it has to be someplace he goes more often than not. With me so far?”

Dean’s hand shot out and flicked his ear. “I was with you before, squirt. I’m not stupid.”

“Just annoying.”

“You’re annoying! Anyway, we’ve gone to the library a few times. We’ve gone to the courthouse, we’ve gone to the police station.” He rubbed at his eyes. “We’ve been to the Nice ‘n’ Easy just about every day; all these hills are killing the mileage. The grocery store, too; we’ve been there a few times. That’s why Dad thought it had to be Star.”

“It’s not Star. She’s working when she’s there; people are watching her. It’s not like she can just sneak out and break into people’s cars when she’s supposed to be at her register.” Dad should know these things, Sam thought, balling his fists.

“You know he’s not really like that - a sexist like that. He doesn’t care that a bunch of women live off by themselves or whatever.” Dean withdrew his hand back under his sheet.

“I don’t know, Dean. That seems to be the entire reason he figured one of them for being the witch - uncontrolled women.” Sam squirmed further down in his bedroll.

“They had the right herbs.”

“So does Home Depot. Is their CEO a witch?”

“Could be,” Dean chuckled. “But he’s not here in Tully. But you’re right, I mean, it’s probably not right to make that assumption just because they’re growing something.”

“No, it doesn’t. Let’s try to get some sleep.” Sam forced his body to still. He didn’t want to stop the conversation - it seemed like Dean never wanted to really talk to him anymore, just bark out orders just like Dad did. It was nice to talk, like brothers should. He was too scared that he might give something important away and betray the trust that the Tealls had placed in him.

Just as Dean had warned him, their father’s training plans were in no way deterred by the fact that there was a witch out for his blood, nor by the fact that it was raining hard enough to make people start to contemplate the building of an ark. “You really think that a Leyak is going to just stay indoors because it’s pissing rain?” John shot back when Dean objected to being made to run in the weather.

“What the hell is a Leyak?” the teenager blinked back.

“Anthropophagous flying head with entrails,” Sam supplied.

Dean considered. “Sounds gross.”

“Apparently they don’t care if it’s raining,” the child sighed, lacing up his boots. “Probably washes the entrails clean.” He wished something could wash his entrails clean.

They ran, and they shot, and they sparred, which turned into grappling in the mud. Their father had a plan for them, obviously, and only when the plan had been fulfilled would they be able to go back to the trailer and dry off. They did, however, and after a few hours of sitting in his bedroll with his book Sam even started to feel a little bit warm again.

Sunday brought more rain. Oddly enough, Dad didn’t bother making them train today, but instead brought them into town for brunch at the local diner. Sam borrowed a silver ring from Dean and brushed up against their father with it, but it had no effect. This was their father. “We’re starting to run low on clean and dry clothes,” the adult admitted, maybe a little bit sheepishly. “I figured it was okay to take one day off. Don’t make me regret it.”

“No, sir,” the boys told him in unison.

After brunch they loaded their laundry into the Impala and drove down to Cortland to use the laundromat there; part of not leaving any record was not getting seen using the same facilities too often, Sam supposed. That was okay. This place had better machinery than the one in Tully and he wasn’t stuck alone. When the detergent ran out, though, he did get permission to run out and pick up another jug of it from the Walgreens. That gave him the opportunity to do two things: pick up a bottle of ink and make a phone call.

And his brother thought he was just trying to show how willing he was. He’d never been so grateful for Dean’s sensitive skin before in his life.

Sam rushed out as fast as he could, his father’s money burning a hole in his pocket, and made his way to the corner store. The detergent was heavy, but no one seemed to pay much attention to him as he carried it through the store looking for the ink bottles. This particular laundromat, this Walgreens, was near the college, so he had some hope of finding what he needed. They didn’t have regular ink, just ink in bottles, in the office supplies section, but they did have a relatively small section for art supplies. He guessed SUNY Cortland must offer an art major or something.

His palms sweated. Dad would want to see the receipt, but there didn’t seem to be cameras. No one was looking, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t shoplifted before. He didn’t like stealing. Stealing was wrong. Then again, so was almost everything else they did, and it was the only way he was going to be able to put the right stuff into the ink. A bottle of ink found its way into his baggy jeans pocket, and Sam followed it up with the absolute cheapest fountain pen they had a moment later.

He kept his countenance as he paid for the detergent, and then he went up to the counter and paid for the detergent. The clerk frowned. “I don’t think even a double bag is going to hold that for long, kid.”

“It’s not too bad,” Sam told him with a smile. “I’m not going very far. I just need to make a phone call.”

The man, probably not much older than Star, shrugged. “Pay phone’s right up there in the corner.” He reached into the leave-a-penny tray. “Here - someone didn’t want to deal with coins or something.”

Sam felt his eyes widen. “Wow, thanks, mister!” That was a stroke of luck indeed; the change from the detergent hadn’t resulted in any quarters. Was there something else at work here?

Sam licked his lips as he reached into his backpack and found the phone number for the Teall farm. He didn’t think Dad had followed him, but that didn’t mean much. Dad could easily be right behind him, just out of sight. He was Dad, and he so little trusted Sam that it wouldn’t surprise the boy at all to find that he’d followed him out here just to see if he called anyone or tipped anyone off. He still had to do it, but he could be circumspect about it.

“Hello?” came Kelly’s voice.

“Uh, hi. This is Sam. Sam Winchester.”

“Sam! Hello! How are you! Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

The boy’s knees almost buckled. These people - their first concern, on hearing from him, was to worry about his safety. “No. You do. It’s him. We’re out right now, I can’t talk long, but he’s suspicious.”

Kelly paused, doing the mental translation. “Your dad - does he know about us?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Not necessarily. Suspicious, though.”

“Is he right there with you?”

“Not that I can see,” he murmured into the receiver, cupping his hand around the mouthpiece as though it could give him more privacy. “I tried to convince him to go up to Nedrow but I don’t know if it will work. Look, I can’t talk long, I couldn’t stay out. I just wanted to give you all the heads up.”

“I see. Thanks, Sam. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Kelly’s smile came through just in her voice. “Stay safe.”

“You too, ma’am.”

He hung up and returned to the laundromat. John did indeed want an exact accounting for the detergent, but Sam was able to give it to him without a problem.

That night, John went out again. Sam lay back on his clean sheets and studied his book. Apparently written charms could have some efficacy against some kinds of magic and curses - not all, and they weren’t as good as a proper hex bag or some of the things that you buried in the dirt around your property, but if he could get the mix right and the words right it would be something.

John waited with him down near the driveway entrance the next day. “I’m thinking of bringing in Caleb or Joshua on this one,” he admitted as they stood in anticipation. “I’m not sure what else to do. I think Josh has more experience with witches than I do.”

“Sir.” Sam couldn’t relax as he stood with his father, couldn’t even sit on the giant rock next to the driveway. He had to stand to attention the whole time.

“I hope you realize that I wouldn’t have brought you boys along if I’d realized that there were witches involved here. I mean, I need to keep you boys safe.” John cleared his throat, looking straight ahead.

Sam folded his lips. “You realize that the witch would have had friends, a family anyway.”

“So?” John rose up on his feet a little, almost as though he’d been startled by the comment.

“So you think you’re the only one who gets to dedicate his life to revenge?” He heard the familiar sound of the Tealls’ engine approaching. “We’d have been targets even if you dumped us in a motel room in Oregon. It doesn’t keep us safe.”

John gave a frustrated little growl. “It does if I say it does.”

Sam just hummed a little. What he said didn’t matter; it wouldn’t convince his father and just made them both angry. He didn’t have time to get angry right now. He had to figure out how to deal with the witch in a way that would get his father away from the Tealls.

The truck pulled up. John leaned into the car, fixing both women in his mind’s eye. “Hi,” he greeted, holding out his hand. “I’m John Winchester. I wanted to thank you for taking such a strong interest in my boy here while I’ve been caught up in this job. I know he can be quite the handful.”

Kelly’s shake was best described as “frosty.” She didn’t shake for one second longer than necessary, but she met John’s eyes squarely. “On the contrary,” she told him. “I’ve raised six children and I’ve never met a child as cooperative and helpful as Sam. We’re delighted to have him around.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “I’m glad to hear he’s been on his best behavior, then. I know he’s been pretty excited by the farm.”

“He seems to have a passion for agriculture in general,” Star observed, the thinnest of smiles gracing her pretty face. “Didn’t he have a job over the winter on a dairy farm?”

John’s face grew flinty as the teen climbed down from the passenger seat, granting Sam access to the cab interior. “An opportunity presented itself. He’s all about opportunities.”

“That is what childhood is all about, John.” Kelly offered a bright smile as Sam buckled his seat belt. “We’ll bring him home tonight.” She put the car in gear as Sam’s heart leaped into his throat. John had no choice but to step back or let the Tealls run over his foot.

“Well. That was…” Star began.

“Harrowing,” Sam finished. He’d never be as brave, as strong as Kelly and Star had just been. “I can’t believe you just did that! He’s… he’s John Winchester!”

Kelly just chuckled. “He’s a hunter, and he’s probably pretty good at what he does. But I’ve faced down scarier than that. Let’s get you back to the farm and we’ll see what we can do about this whole situation.”

He swallowed. “Did my call yesterday make any sense?”

“You were trying to say that your father has gotten suspicious of us.” She nodded. “Thank you for finding a way to warn us, Sam. We’ve been talking and we’d like to talk a bit with you about some of the things that have happened. But that will have to wait until we get to the house, and remember - none of this is your fault. Okay?”

The boy took a deep breath and made himself relax. These were his friends, his teachers. It was all going to be okay.

They pulled into the farm and already things were different. All of the other kids were doing chores, but the adults were all seated around the dining table. Kelly and Star ushered Sam into the room. The teenager went to bring Sam a glass of lemonade while the matron guided the boy to a seat between herself and Mama Rachel, arm gently around his shoulders. “All right, Sam,” she told him. “The last time we’d seen you, your father had been attacked by the rogue witch.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” He described the attack, and the contents of the hex bag as detailed by his brother. “He figures that the attacker must be someone who sees me, because they’d see my bruises and come to the wrong conclusion. And they’d have to be someone local, because they’d be someone who could get into his car.” He huffed out a little laugh. “He initially suspected Star, because she works at the grocery store.”

Star clutched at her throat. “Me?” she squeaked.

“That’s ridiculous,” Laura scowled. “How is Star supposed to go into the trunk of the Impala to get the shirt? She’s working the register, for crying out loud! Has the man never worked a real job in his life? She’s dealing with people, not flitting around the parking lot! Also, shouldn’t he be locking his car?”

Sam stopped. “He should be,” he said carefully, licking his lips. He hadn’t mentioned the make of the car. Or that the car hadn’t been locked. “You know, he’s from Kansas. For all the paranoia he’s got as a hunter, there are some things that I’m not sure have entirely set in yet. Like locking the car every time.” He made himself laugh. “I’m not sure that the door was ever locked back in Lawrence, you know?”

“You’d think he’d be a little more circumspect,” she sniffed.

Beside him, Kelly had noticed the way his body stiffened at her sister’s words. “How did you know that the lock hadn’t been broken, Laura?”

Laura stopped. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

“Lucky,” Rachel nodded, looking down.

“Look, my dad told me that he was going to bring in some outside hunters,” Sam pressed. “Those guys are good - scary good. And one of them, Josh, has experience hunting witches. You’ve done a good job staying off Dad’s radar so far, but I don’t think he’s got a lot of experience looking for witches. Josh does. He’ll figure you out, he’ll go through my things and figure out that I’ve been learning things -“

“Crap,” hissed Christina. “We can’t - we can’t have this.”

“The rogue witch is putting us all in danger,” Star sighed, her face ashen. “I mean, we’re all going to die from this.”

“We don’t have to,” Laura countered. “Not if we take out John Winchester first.” She glanced at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam, but your father’s a danger to the whole community. Not just to the coven, but to you too. And you know it.”

Sam bit his lip. “He is,” he admitted. “He - well. But he’ll be noticed. And unless you want to kill a fourteen-year-old boy, other hunters will know that it was witchcraft and that he was suspicious of the Teall family. I’ll cover for you; Dean won’t.” He forced himself to breathe normally. Dad - he didn’t want to kill his father. He didn’t want to let someone else kill his father. He wanted safety, he wanted freedom, he wanted stability. He didn’t want someone to murder his father.

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You’re talking cold-blooded murder here, Laura!”

“The man is vicious, Rachel!” the witch snapped, rising to her feet. “You see what he’s done to his son, no doubt he’ll do worse. And he’s hunting us. He’s doubtless done worse. He should be put down before he can hurt more people, hurt them worse than they’ve already been hurt!”

“We don’t kill people,” Kelly insisted, also rising. She put her hands on the table and leaned forward, partially blocking Sam from Laura’s view. “We’re protectors, healers!”

“This is protection!” A long, blunt-nailed finger pointed out the window. “This is healing! This whole county has been plagued by men hurting women for decades, and no one’s been willing to take a stand and do something about it until now! Those men who’ve been killed - do you really think that any of them are any kind of a loss to society? They’re - they’re wife beaters! Baby killers! Rapists! They’re the worst kind of scum! Sisters, there is nothing wrong with what I’ve been doing! The fact is that the legal system doesn’t defend women against men. When women defend themselves we get the book thrown at us while men, they walk. They get off scot free or with a slap on the wrist. This, this is the only way for women to defend women!”

“Except it isn’t,” Christine sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I mean, first of all, what makes you think that you have all of the facts in the case? You know, we have jury trials for a reason. No single person has all of the facts in a case. I mean, even when someone’s guilty of a terrible crime there are mitigating factors, Laura! It’s not on us, on any single person, to decide who gets to live and who gets to die.”

“Oh, but it’s okay for these, these dicks?” Laura’s eyes were wild in her head now. “It’s okay for them to make their decisions about their women and their children, or about another person’s humanity in the case of hunters?”

“No,” Rachel sighed, tears rolling openly down her face. “No, it isn’t. But we’re supposed to be better than they are.”

“They shot you!” Laura screamed. “They shot you, Rachel!”

“And I’ll never forget that! I’ll never forget lying there in that swamp, pretending I was dead and hoping they’d just go away and assume the job was done,” the herbalist shot back. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s okay for me to go around playing judge, jury and executioner!”

“All of this is true,” Kelly stated, in a colder voice than Sam had thought would ever be possible from her. “But there’s something else you’ve done here, Laura. By deciding to use magic to become some kind of vigilante, you’ve brought hunters down on our heads. You’ve endangered the entire coven.”

“We’re going to have to bind her,” Rachel declared, in such a tone of sadness that Sam thought his own heart might break. “There’s no other way.”

“You can’t do that,” Laura snarled, a sweat breaking out over her face. She had started to hyperventilate. “You can’t do that! I am part of this coven! I have the right to pursue my own projects!”

“You have put every person in this house in danger!” Christine shouted, slamming her hands down on the table. Sam jumped, and Star hugged him closer to herself. “Do you understand this? You might have killed us all!” Her eyes bulged for a second, and she waved a hand and spoke a few words in a language Sam didn’t understand. Laura struggled, but collapsed to the floor.

“Bring her to the cellar,” Kelly sighed, rubbing at her eyes. She sounded profoundly exhausted. “We’ll do the binding tonight. It will be stronger then. There’s no reason to wake her up before then.”

Sam released the breath he’d been holding. “So you can just… do that, huh?”

“Sometimes.” She smiled wanly. “It isn’t exactly easy. And it takes decades of commitment and study. But that’s not the important thing right now. We have a hunter to worry about. I met your father this morning, Sam. I think he does believe that there are witches here, and I don’t think he’s going to be swayed by the fact that most of us are good witches or by the fact that we’re neutralizing the bad one.”

“No.” He massaged his own temples. “He’s not exactly discriminating when it comes to ‘not human.’ And his definitions are pretty narrow. But, um. You know, I think we can work with this.”

Four sets of eyes raised their eyebrows at him. “Seriously?” Star asked, for all of them.

“Sure.” He took a deep breath, mind racing. “He’s already got the farm’s scent, so we let him keep it. We need a dead body, any dead body, and a lot of lumber. And, um, you guys are going to have to do some serious lying.”

“You want us to just go dig up a dead body.” Christine made a face. “What’s that going to accomplish?”

“We tell him that we caught the witch stealing herbs from the property. Or you caught her making a birch wand or something, I don’t know. Something you could have picked up in a basic book from a normal library that tipped you off. Found her dancing skyclad in the far field or something. The body needs to be female. We’ll need some kind of amulet or something, not really magical but something that he’ll believe.” He started chewing on his nails.

“You want us to burn a random body on our property.” Kelly blinked.

“Well. We can do it on someone else’s, but it won’t shake Dad’s suspicions.” He sighed. “It’s gross. I know.”

Rachel waved a hand. “We’re witches, Sam. We’re fine with gross.” She tugged at her own hair. “You want to bring a hunter. Here.”

“Yeah. But I’m pretty sure he’ll come running anyway. When I’m late.” He took another deep breath. “This will probably get kind of ugly. But I think it’s the only way to get us all out of this without the coven getting caught out. Without any living people getting killed,” he amended.

The coven members exchanged looks. “Kelly, you and I can go get a body,” Christine sighed finally. “Star, you and Rachel stay here and make sure there’s nothing incriminating where Winchester can find it.”

“I’ll need some blood, too,” Sam requested. “I can use my own but I’d rather not.”

Sam went and recruited Susan and one of her sisters to go and find enough firewood to build a pyre. The task took a surprising amount of time and technically required sneaking into the closed state park and stealing some of their wood, but they had ATVs and could get away with that. It wasn’t like any rangers were going to come calling. Star and Rachel managed the house and property, carefully hiding anything that even vaguely smacked of witchcraft.

Sam helped to hide Laura’s slumbering form in a cellar under one of the barns. The room had been lined in iron, painted in sigils the boy couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but it had a small cot. “It’s not a permanent solution,” Star explained. “Sometimes things happen - a witch can lose her mind, a little, or get possessed. Then she needs to be kept safe while we come up with a solution. I think the last time it was used might have been thirty years ago.”

The boy swallowed. He could almost imagine himself, locked away into a similar room, sweating away and screaming in delirium. “It seems like a fate worse than death,” he whispered as he helped to position Laura on the bed. “Is she… do you think she’s comfortable?”

“I think she was killing people, and still might get us all killed,” Star sighed, stroking her mother’s face gently. “I don’t care if she’s comfortable.”

“She only wanted to help.” Sam stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets. Would any of this have come to pass, would this family have been harmed, if he hadn’t crossed their paths? If he hadn’t gone to that library meeting would they be hurting right now?

“I don’t know.” She stood too, proud and tall beside him. “How many other serial killers have said the same thing? They were ridding society of a menace?”

She had a point, but Sam didn’t belabor it. Instead, the pair locked the door behind them and returned to building the pyre.

Sam found some herbs that would stand out to John as having appropriately witchy uses and damaged some of the plants, making it appear that someone had tried to harvest them. It took Christine and Kelly another couple of hours to get back to the farm with a suitable body. “Fortunately security is lax at the medical school right now,” Kelly grimaced as the pair maneuvered the recently deceased young woman out of a tarp. “No blood, though. Sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make do.” He pulled his iron knife out of his boot and drew it across his arm with a hiss.

“Sam, what the hell!” Rachel exclaimed.

“Need enough blood on the blade that he’ll believe she was stabbed,” he explained. “Alright. Let’s get this started.”

Christine produced an amulet - no magical properties, although it could have been imbued with such - from her own supplies and hung it around the deceased neck. Between the four of them they got the body onto the pyre and got it lit.

Sam messed his clothing up enough to simulate a fight, and it was a good thing that he had. His father showed up about three hours after dark, the Impala screeching up the driveway like some kind of lion. He barely got the car turned off before he and Dean had both jumped out of the car, running over to grab Sam by the light of the burning pyre.

The stink of burning flesh still clung to the air, although it wasn’t possible to make out any human features in the flames anymore. “What the hell do you think you’re still doing here, boy?” John snarled, shaking him.

“Excuse me,” Kelly snapped, stepping right into John’s personal space and putting a hand on Sam. “Do you not see that this boy’s been through a trauma?”

John’s eyes bulged. “Now you listen to me, lady -“

“Dad, it was the - it was the person you were looking for.” Sam didn’t have to fake the trembling in his limbs, although the cause was probably different than what his father assumed. “She came here. To the farm.”

John released him with a shove. “Really.”

“Really,” Rachel retorted. “I’m not sure what she was supposed to be, but we caught her on the property trying to steal cuttings of hellebore. We were just going to scare her off, but she did something, I don’t know what.”

“Rachel started to choke,” Christine continued, looking away. “It was terrifying. We didn’t know how to help. Sam recognized what was happening and threw his iron knife at her.”

“He told us what to do,” Star finished. “Said we had to burn her to ash.”

Dean helped Sam up from the ground, checking him for injuries. “Dude, that was the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” he objected, pinching him hard. “Going up against a witch all alone! You should have come and gotten me and Dad right away!”

Kelly gave a snort of contempt. “Rachel was dying.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “You really think he was going to walk all the way back to your place and just hope that you were there? He saved our sister’s life, and all you can do is criticize him?” She shook her head.

“Don’t even think you know how to raise my son, lady,” John seethed. “Sam, get in the car. We will deal with this at home.”

Dean escorted Sam back to the Impala, letting him grab his bookbag as he went. He sat in the car until the pyre burned down while John stood outside with the coven. No one said a word.

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