SALT OF THE EARTH--Chapter 13
Salt of the Earth Chapter 13
A/N: Some of the information used here has actually been part of the history of my own family, although I am not of Native American descent. Any misuse of Kiowan history is just the result of my own ineptitude, ignorance, and creative mind. A BIG THANK YOU to my beta cmsserenity-you are the fuel to my fire, the syrup to my waffles, the cabbage of my coleslaw!
Sam called Kevin, still locked in Garth's boat, and provided instructions for him to get to the farm safely and under the radar of any angels or demons that might be so inclined to follow him. Cas volunteered to accompany him, or at least tail him from a distance to assure his safe arrival. Anse had instructed Sam to go to the hospital and check on Fred and see if the young boy was conscious and had any information.
He arrived at Sacred Heart Catholic Hospital, and found Fred's mom, Elanor, Marisa, Abby and Susanna sitting outside of his room. Susanna jumped from her seat and embraced him. He felt himself calm just a bit in her arms, and another weird thought, well, rather a phrase, entered his mind: HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL. He didn't know what it meant, other than he would find his brother, and a strange peace came over him. He released her from his grip (he didn't realize how tight he was holding her until he went to let go), cupped her face, and looked into her eyes.
"Everything will be fine, Sam," she said, sensing his hurt and returning his stare. "You'll see. Everything will be fine."
He hugged her again briefly and looked through the window at Fred. He had a gash in the left side of his neck that looked at least six inches long. He wasn't hooked up to a ventilator, but he was unconscious. "I'm so sorry, Elanor."
She spoke to him with a strong Irish brogue. "Tis okay, son, I'm glad he'll come home to me."
"Did he say anything?"
"It's that infernal, damned Crowley, I think."
Sam turned white. He felt the blood draining from his face as Elanor continued.
"My son, he said, 'Demon. Black suit. Accent.' That bastard has your brother. What would he want with him?"
Sam paused for a second to clear his head. Boy, Dean was gonna be mad when he got back. He sighed first and told them the truth. All he got in return was three blank-eyed women, mouths open, and..nothing. Had the circumstances not been what they were, he might have thought it was funny. He stared back, especially at Abby, until a nurse came to address them.
"Mrs. Pemby? Mrs. Pemby, are you okay?"
The woman turned her head and looked at the nurse, address not sinking in, with the same expression she'd wore for the last three minutes. She visibly shook herself free from the shock of the latest information, and focused on the need at hand. The nurse took her by the elbow away from the remaining three and began to provide her son's latest test results.
Sam spoke first, again. "I have to get back to the farm."
"Yeah, you do," Abby offered. Her mouth opened again and she looked like she was prepared to say something, and nothing came out.
"Please find him, Sam, please."
"I will. Your dad's on it, so is half the farm."
Susanna gripped his bicep and rubbed it with her thumb reassuringly. "Our farm has secrets buried in the soil. My dad will bring him back. I know he will."
Sam reached out and took her by the nape of the neck and leaned in to kiss her. He rubbed her cheek, and turned around and left.
When he arrived back at the ranch, he found Anse and several others gathered in a large, empty field near the burial grounds. They were gathering wood and throwing it into a large pile, like they were preparing for a bonfire. Sam studied the activity for a moment while he was approaching Anse, Bob, and David.
"I know who has him," Sam started. "It's Crowley."
Bob looked at the other two men and spoke first. "If this works, it ain't gonna matter who has him."
"What do you mean? What do you mean 'if this works'?"
"Granted, it's a big 'if,' but I can tell you, no demon or angel has ever contended with a force like this. We're poking a sleeping giant, but I'm pretty sure he likes us."
Bob stepped away to greet a small child carrying a canvas bag. "Anse, I got the last of it right here."
"Go do what you need to do." With that, Bob left. Unknown to Sam, the bag contained three ingredients needed for the ceremony: a feather from a Tai-me statue, crushed bear claw, and the most important-purified salt of the earth from the lands of the Kiowa. They would only need one more to complete the process and make their request known.
"What's going on?"
Anse began walking away with his back to the pile of brush and wood. He put his arm around Sam's shoulder and encouraged him to walk, too. "Sam, there's a lot on this farm. A lot more than you can see. Do you know what its name is?"
Sam shook his head.
"Khe-ate means Big Shield in the Kiowan language. They needed to protect this place and all the dead in it, so the Great Spirit placed a blessing on this land so it would never be desecrated after they were forced out. That's why we don't have to salt and burn here. This only came to be because our ancestors protected the land until the blessing was put in place."
Sam just listened. If any of this was useful to get Dean and the babies back, he would absorb it like a sponge.
"What are you going to do?"
"We're gonna wake them up."
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
16 years old when I went to war
To fight for a land fit for heroes
God on my side and a gun in my hand
Chasing my days down to zero
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died
And I never did get any older
But I knew at the time that a year in the line
Was a long enough life for a soldier
Motorhead, 1916
Dean sat on the couch in the room, no, prison, waiting for news from Crowley that he needed to be moved, because Sam was on the way to rescue him. This would be his cue to make a break for it. He won't leave me again, he said he wouldn't, didn't he? If nothing else, these are his kids! He'll want them, right? I gotta keep them healthy for him. He's coming to get me. I know he is…
He fought the insinuous grip of despair valiantly for what he thought might have been days. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since his watch was taken and there were no windows. He tried to sleep, but ultimately his rest ended in nightmares, so he only did so when his body absolutely gave out. His captors made sure he had an unending supply of food and water (to feed their gowing potential brethren), but his only motivation to eat was to care for his niece and nephew. He really had no appetite at all. Whether it was boredom or hope, he didn't know, but he had come up with at least 100 different scenarios as to how he could be freed. So far, none had come.
He resigned himself to singing to the babies, so that someday, even if they were in Crowley's clutches, somehow they would remember him. He'd heard that babies could hear their mom before they were born, so he figured he'd try it out. At least it was something. It would be really cool if the boy liked classic rock.
Sometimes while he was singing a song, a verse would strike him, a verse maybe he forgot until he went to repeat it, and he would find himself tearing up and thinking of his brother. It can’t end like this. I can’t fail him. Where is he? Does he think I left? With all we’ve been through, and now we’re on the verge of being okay…If I lose them, how am I gonna explain this? I forgot how much I need him. We REALLY can’t function without each other…What’s this gonna do to him? Or Abby. God, what he wouldn't do to curl up next to her! He often thought of their kiss and how he could have made things just a little different. Maybe he wouldn't have been here, now, if he'd stayed with her all night instead of going home. The damned butterfly effect had to work in someone's favor, sometimes, right?
If I could fight. If I could only fight, I'd be so outta here. I can't risk hurting them. I can't. If something happened and they died, what would happen to Sam? God, he wants them so much. It's his chance to get outta this shit. He can stay on that farm with that girl and have a ton more kids. Preferably, not courtesy of me. When I told him I wanted him to die old and fat and chugging Viagra, I meant it. He deserves it. He's a good man. Much better than me…
Crowley stopped in every now and then to either harass Dean about his predicament or have him submit to yet another examination. He couldn't tell whether it was the twins getting stronger or time passing, but their movements became much more defined, often when he was trying to sleep. He would try to soothe and rub away the kicks and thumps, but ultimately he would end up pleading with them to just rest for awhile. He was amazed at how his stomach would develop moving lumps and roll and tilt with the babies’ fidgeting. Looks like Alien, he thought often. He was surprised, too, that it became uncomfortable and damn near painful, and he would groan and try to shift his weight or arch his back to make it more bearable. Sometimes it took his breath away, especially when he felt like they were laying on his hip bones. He would sit back and watch in silence at what he supposed were feet and arms appeared under his skin, and fearfully wondered how he was going to get through this. They're gonna get bigger than this? I can't do this...There's not enough room in me... Sometimes it felt as if the babies were playing real-life rock ‘em, sock ‘em robots inside him, and his whole abdomen would shift from side to side. They kicked his ribs. They kicked his stomach when he ate and gave him heartburn. They danced on his bladder and ran in place when Dean tried to rest. It was clear they had a mind and agenda of their own, and it was to make Uncle Dean crazy.
Oh, Sam, please don't leave me…
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
"Who? Who are we waking up?" Sam asked. Judging by the size of the bonfire, it just may have well been a giant.
"Extreme provocation calls for extreme measure," Anse replied. "You'll see. You'll have your brother home by morning."
"Alive?" Sam swallowed hard, realizing that this might be the 'if' in 'if this works'.
"That's the idea."
Night fell, and the ranch took on an electric atmosphere that Sam had not felt before. It seemed as if every volunteer was in the field, gathering around the kindling. They were largely quiet, but the energy was palpable.
Anse, David and Bob arrived, carefully carrying a breathtakingly beautiful feather blanket. They laid it on top of the pile of wood, and began to chant. It wasn't any language Sam had heard before. It wasn't Enochian, nor was it Latin. As Sam listened, it took on the rhythm of a song, and he thought maybe it sounded like Native American. Duh…Native American, Sam…Bob cued him to come from the audience to stand with the three men, grabbed Sam's hand and cut his palm with a knife.
While Anse was chanting, Bob interpreted to Sam what was going on. "The blanket is from the last War Chief before the tribe was moved from these lands. There's a feather from a Tai-Me statue knotted into the fibers, the brown powder is bear claw-you ever heard of a mother bear and how she protects?"
"Yeah."
"You know what they do when you separate them from their young?" Bob looked into Sam's eyes and he nodded, understanding completely.
"And my blood?"
"They gotta know who they're looking for…?"
Bob held out a bowl with the items in it and allowed Sam's blood to mix in. He then carried the concoction back to Anse, who stuck it in the middle of the woodpile and ignited it with a match. Surprisingly, it lit the entire pile quickly with no additional accelerant.
"What now?"
"Now we wait."
The whole crowd was quiet and the only audible thing in the field was the sound of crackling wood. It grew fast, and Sam could have sworn he heard Indian victory yelps and screams…
Next
A/N: Some of the information used here has actually been part of the history of my own family, although I am not of Native American descent. Any misuse of Kiowan history is just the result of my own ineptitude, ignorance, and creative mind. A BIG THANK YOU to my beta cmsserenity-you are the fuel to my fire, the syrup to my waffles, the cabbage of my coleslaw!
Sam called Kevin, still locked in Garth's boat, and provided instructions for him to get to the farm safely and under the radar of any angels or demons that might be so inclined to follow him. Cas volunteered to accompany him, or at least tail him from a distance to assure his safe arrival. Anse had instructed Sam to go to the hospital and check on Fred and see if the young boy was conscious and had any information.
He arrived at Sacred Heart Catholic Hospital, and found Fred's mom, Elanor, Marisa, Abby and Susanna sitting outside of his room. Susanna jumped from her seat and embraced him. He felt himself calm just a bit in her arms, and another weird thought, well, rather a phrase, entered his mind: HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL. He didn't know what it meant, other than he would find his brother, and a strange peace came over him. He released her from his grip (he didn't realize how tight he was holding her until he went to let go), cupped her face, and looked into her eyes.
"Everything will be fine, Sam," she said, sensing his hurt and returning his stare. "You'll see. Everything will be fine."
He hugged her again briefly and looked through the window at Fred. He had a gash in the left side of his neck that looked at least six inches long. He wasn't hooked up to a ventilator, but he was unconscious. "I'm so sorry, Elanor."
She spoke to him with a strong Irish brogue. "Tis okay, son, I'm glad he'll come home to me."
"Did he say anything?"
"It's that infernal, damned Crowley, I think."
Sam turned white. He felt the blood draining from his face as Elanor continued.
"My son, he said, 'Demon. Black suit. Accent.' That bastard has your brother. What would he want with him?"
Sam paused for a second to clear his head. Boy, Dean was gonna be mad when he got back. He sighed first and told them the truth. All he got in return was three blank-eyed women, mouths open, and..nothing. Had the circumstances not been what they were, he might have thought it was funny. He stared back, especially at Abby, until a nurse came to address them.
"Mrs. Pemby? Mrs. Pemby, are you okay?"
The woman turned her head and looked at the nurse, address not sinking in, with the same expression she'd wore for the last three minutes. She visibly shook herself free from the shock of the latest information, and focused on the need at hand. The nurse took her by the elbow away from the remaining three and began to provide her son's latest test results.
Sam spoke first, again. "I have to get back to the farm."
"Yeah, you do," Abby offered. Her mouth opened again and she looked like she was prepared to say something, and nothing came out.
"Please find him, Sam, please."
"I will. Your dad's on it, so is half the farm."
Susanna gripped his bicep and rubbed it with her thumb reassuringly. "Our farm has secrets buried in the soil. My dad will bring him back. I know he will."
Sam reached out and took her by the nape of the neck and leaned in to kiss her. He rubbed her cheek, and turned around and left.
When he arrived back at the ranch, he found Anse and several others gathered in a large, empty field near the burial grounds. They were gathering wood and throwing it into a large pile, like they were preparing for a bonfire. Sam studied the activity for a moment while he was approaching Anse, Bob, and David.
"I know who has him," Sam started. "It's Crowley."
Bob looked at the other two men and spoke first. "If this works, it ain't gonna matter who has him."
"What do you mean? What do you mean 'if this works'?"
"Granted, it's a big 'if,' but I can tell you, no demon or angel has ever contended with a force like this. We're poking a sleeping giant, but I'm pretty sure he likes us."
Bob stepped away to greet a small child carrying a canvas bag. "Anse, I got the last of it right here."
"Go do what you need to do." With that, Bob left. Unknown to Sam, the bag contained three ingredients needed for the ceremony: a feather from a Tai-me statue, crushed bear claw, and the most important-purified salt of the earth from the lands of the Kiowa. They would only need one more to complete the process and make their request known.
"What's going on?"
Anse began walking away with his back to the pile of brush and wood. He put his arm around Sam's shoulder and encouraged him to walk, too. "Sam, there's a lot on this farm. A lot more than you can see. Do you know what its name is?"
Sam shook his head.
"Khe-ate means Big Shield in the Kiowan language. They needed to protect this place and all the dead in it, so the Great Spirit placed a blessing on this land so it would never be desecrated after they were forced out. That's why we don't have to salt and burn here. This only came to be because our ancestors protected the land until the blessing was put in place."
Sam just listened. If any of this was useful to get Dean and the babies back, he would absorb it like a sponge.
"What are you going to do?"
"We're gonna wake them up."
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
16 years old when I went to war
To fight for a land fit for heroes
God on my side and a gun in my hand
Chasing my days down to zero
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died
And I never did get any older
But I knew at the time that a year in the line
Was a long enough life for a soldier
Motorhead, 1916
Dean sat on the couch in the room, no, prison, waiting for news from Crowley that he needed to be moved, because Sam was on the way to rescue him. This would be his cue to make a break for it. He won't leave me again, he said he wouldn't, didn't he? If nothing else, these are his kids! He'll want them, right? I gotta keep them healthy for him. He's coming to get me. I know he is…
He fought the insinuous grip of despair valiantly for what he thought might have been days. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since his watch was taken and there were no windows. He tried to sleep, but ultimately his rest ended in nightmares, so he only did so when his body absolutely gave out. His captors made sure he had an unending supply of food and water (to feed their gowing potential brethren), but his only motivation to eat was to care for his niece and nephew. He really had no appetite at all. Whether it was boredom or hope, he didn't know, but he had come up with at least 100 different scenarios as to how he could be freed. So far, none had come.
He resigned himself to singing to the babies, so that someday, even if they were in Crowley's clutches, somehow they would remember him. He'd heard that babies could hear their mom before they were born, so he figured he'd try it out. At least it was something. It would be really cool if the boy liked classic rock.
Sometimes while he was singing a song, a verse would strike him, a verse maybe he forgot until he went to repeat it, and he would find himself tearing up and thinking of his brother. It can’t end like this. I can’t fail him. Where is he? Does he think I left? With all we’ve been through, and now we’re on the verge of being okay…If I lose them, how am I gonna explain this? I forgot how much I need him. We REALLY can’t function without each other…What’s this gonna do to him? Or Abby. God, what he wouldn't do to curl up next to her! He often thought of their kiss and how he could have made things just a little different. Maybe he wouldn't have been here, now, if he'd stayed with her all night instead of going home. The damned butterfly effect had to work in someone's favor, sometimes, right?
If I could fight. If I could only fight, I'd be so outta here. I can't risk hurting them. I can't. If something happened and they died, what would happen to Sam? God, he wants them so much. It's his chance to get outta this shit. He can stay on that farm with that girl and have a ton more kids. Preferably, not courtesy of me. When I told him I wanted him to die old and fat and chugging Viagra, I meant it. He deserves it. He's a good man. Much better than me…
Crowley stopped in every now and then to either harass Dean about his predicament or have him submit to yet another examination. He couldn't tell whether it was the twins getting stronger or time passing, but their movements became much more defined, often when he was trying to sleep. He would try to soothe and rub away the kicks and thumps, but ultimately he would end up pleading with them to just rest for awhile. He was amazed at how his stomach would develop moving lumps and roll and tilt with the babies’ fidgeting. Looks like Alien, he thought often. He was surprised, too, that it became uncomfortable and damn near painful, and he would groan and try to shift his weight or arch his back to make it more bearable. Sometimes it took his breath away, especially when he felt like they were laying on his hip bones. He would sit back and watch in silence at what he supposed were feet and arms appeared under his skin, and fearfully wondered how he was going to get through this. They're gonna get bigger than this? I can't do this...There's not enough room in me... Sometimes it felt as if the babies were playing real-life rock ‘em, sock ‘em robots inside him, and his whole abdomen would shift from side to side. They kicked his ribs. They kicked his stomach when he ate and gave him heartburn. They danced on his bladder and ran in place when Dean tried to rest. It was clear they had a mind and agenda of their own, and it was to make Uncle Dean crazy.
Oh, Sam, please don't leave me…
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
"Who? Who are we waking up?" Sam asked. Judging by the size of the bonfire, it just may have well been a giant.
"Extreme provocation calls for extreme measure," Anse replied. "You'll see. You'll have your brother home by morning."
"Alive?" Sam swallowed hard, realizing that this might be the 'if' in 'if this works'.
"That's the idea."
Night fell, and the ranch took on an electric atmosphere that Sam had not felt before. It seemed as if every volunteer was in the field, gathering around the kindling. They were largely quiet, but the energy was palpable.
Anse, David and Bob arrived, carefully carrying a breathtakingly beautiful feather blanket. They laid it on top of the pile of wood, and began to chant. It wasn't any language Sam had heard before. It wasn't Enochian, nor was it Latin. As Sam listened, it took on the rhythm of a song, and he thought maybe it sounded like Native American. Duh…Native American, Sam…Bob cued him to come from the audience to stand with the three men, grabbed Sam's hand and cut his palm with a knife.
While Anse was chanting, Bob interpreted to Sam what was going on. "The blanket is from the last War Chief before the tribe was moved from these lands. There's a feather from a Tai-Me statue knotted into the fibers, the brown powder is bear claw-you ever heard of a mother bear and how she protects?"
"Yeah."
"You know what they do when you separate them from their young?" Bob looked into Sam's eyes and he nodded, understanding completely.
"And my blood?"
"They gotta know who they're looking for…?"
Bob held out a bowl with the items in it and allowed Sam's blood to mix in. He then carried the concoction back to Anse, who stuck it in the middle of the woodpile and ignited it with a match. Surprisingly, it lit the entire pile quickly with no additional accelerant.
"What now?"
"Now we wait."
The whole crowd was quiet and the only audible thing in the field was the sound of crackling wood. It grew fast, and Sam could have sworn he heard Indian victory yelps and screams…
Next