Best Laid Schemes (9/10)

[yankeefan87]

Sam had a bad feeling. It wasn't a vision, but it was unsettling nonetheless and it made him hasten his steps, anxious to get back to the library, to make sure everything was okay. He finished piling dirt on the last makeshift grave, did one last quick scan around the fields, and hurried back to the Impala where Richard awaited him.

"Are we done?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, think so. Let's get out of here."

The night was still very dark and Sam could see the lights flickering on and off in the library before they had even pulled into the parking lot. "Shit!" he shouted, throwing the car into park and jumping out. He didn't even look back to see if Richard was following, too concerned with the well-beings of the three men trapped inside.

Sam bounded up the library steps, his long legs allowing him to reach the doors in seconds, but when he pulled back on them, they didn't move an inch. Sam pounded his fist hard against the glass, frustrated. He could hear the screeching of furniture being dragged across the floor and the thundering booms when it crashed against the walls. But the most frightening sound by far was his sick, stubborn brother's cry of pain. "Dean!" Sam yelled, pounding his fists again, adding a few hard kicks for good measure. "DEAN!"

And then everything was silent. The lights stopped flickering, and Sam stumbled backwards as the doors swung open. Richard was by his side now, understandably terrified. "What's going on?" he asked apprehensively.

Sam shook his head, not having an answer. "No idea, but I need to check on my brother." He left Richard behind again and hurried into the now-pitch-dark library. The faint glow of a flashlight revealed the extensive damage done to the room, and Sam looked back to see Holgrum holding out the light for Sam to take. Sam took it gratefully, quickly using it to scan the room, seeing the broken chairs and tables. Glass crunched underfoot from windows and lights that had shattered. But where was his brother?

Sam paused, holding out a hand indicating for Richard to stop too. He had definitely heard something. "Hello?" Sam shouted, waiting for a response. "Dean?" He heard it again, the pounding of someone's fist against wood. And he faintly heard Mark's insistent voice calling out. The basement, Sam thought, running around the corner to where the door was located.

A large oak table blocked the door, but what really got Sam's attention was the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, just to the side of the basement door. Sam ran to his brother's side, immediately putting two fingers to his carotid, relieved when he felt the steady - albeit fast - pulse against his fingers. "Oh thank God," he murmured.

"Sam! Is that you?" Mark's voice was so close, just on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, Mark, hang on one second, there's a table blocking the door." Sam motioned for Richard to help him, and the two moved the heavy piece of furniture to the side. Mark was through the door a second later, kneeling by Dean's side a second after that. Sam quickly joined him, searching for any hidden injuries, anything to indicate why Dean was unconscious.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked anxiously, knowing Mark probably knew about as much as he did.

Mark was pressing lightly on Dean's stomach, testing for rigidity or tenderness but finding none. "Let's check his back," Mark said quietly, not even wanting to entertain the possibility that Dean had suffered a spinal injury.

Sam nodded wordlessly, supporting Dean's head and neck while Mark gently log-rolled him up against his own knees. He palpated Dean's spinal column, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn't find any deformities. Dean groaned softly and Mark pulled his hand back as if it had been burned. "Dean, can you hear me?" Mark asked.

Dean groaned again, and Sam and Mark rolled him back so he was lying flat again. His eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus on his brother's face. "That hurt," he mumbled, annoyed.

"What hurt, Dean?" Sam asked, trying to keep his brother with him. Dean vaguely motioned to his back, and Sam exchanged a terrified look with Mark.

"Your back hurts?" Mark asked gently. "Did you get hit in the back, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "No." He seemed to become more aware and motioned to his side. "Not my back. My side. Fucking table." Dean rolled so he was on his right side, taking the pressure off the site where the table had hit. "'M'okay, Sam. Help me up."

Sam supported his brother and with Mark's help he got Dean into a seated position, leaning him back against the basement door. "Where is he?" Dean asked, beginning to remember what had happened.

Mark looked around, immediately noticing Bill's absence. "Bill?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, the bastard. This is all his doing." Dean winced, his sore throat reminding him he was still sick. He barked out a cough, immediately grabbing at his side as it pulsated with pain. "Fuck," he mumbled pathetically. Everything hurt.

"Bill did this?" Sam asked, suddenly pissed.

"Yeah. He's an Esopus descendant," Dean explained, trying to stand up even while Sam fought to keep him sitting. "We need to find him."

"Hold up," Mark ordered, assisting Sam in the effort to halt Dean's movements. "We don't even know where Bill is. I'm fairly certain he's no longer in the library, though, or he probably would have finished us off. So just take a breather, Dean."

Dean shook his head again. "No. You don't understand. He's angry and now that I know it's him, he's got nothing to lose. It's too dangerous."

"Dammit," Sam muttered. "Mark, did you finish the cleansing spell?"

"I was one word away," he said bitterly. "Fucking perfect timing. Alright then, looks like we need to find him soon."

Sam had almost forgotten Richard was there until he spoke up. "I think I know where he may be." He looked shell-shocked, but Sam assumed that was probably the normal reaction when someone found out his partner-in-crime was actually working against him.

"You heard the man," Dean said with more conviction than he felt. "Now help me up."

By the time they made it outside, to the cars, Dean was drenched in sweat, nauseous from the pain in his side. He didn't even protest when Sam deposited him in the passenger side of the Impala.

Sam helped Dean get his legs into the car, then turned back to Mark. "If we can finish this tonight, I say we do it. I don't want to give Bill even one more opportunity to take us out."

Mark agreed quickly, then turned to Rich. "So where can we find this son of a bitch?"

Dean was curled up against the passenger door, trying to keep any pressure off his left side. The window was fogging up from his short gasps of breath, and Sam could hear sharp hisses of pain whenever Dean breathed too deeply. "Don't worry, bro. This'll be over soon. Then you can sleep for a week."

"Goo...od," Dean mumbled back, shivering. They drove in silence after that, Sam recognizing Dean's need to concentrate on keeping the pain at bay. Mark's car turned off into the campus parking lot, and Sam supposed he wasn't exactly surprised that this was where Bill would go. This was where he worked, what he knew best. Not to mention the Anthropology department probably had a wealth of useful implements that crazed psycho-killers could get their hands on.

The college looked eerie in the dim glow from the moon. It also seemed utterly deserted, and Sam figured that was a good thing if the state of the library was any indication for how things could go bad.

Sam pulled up beside Mark, rolling down his window. "So you think he's in there?" He asked, motioning to the college.

"That's what Rich thinks. It's worth a try - I don't have any better ideas."

"True. Is there some sort of spell or something? How do we stop Bill from turning the evil spirits onto us?"

"He must have the wand. That's the only way he could be doing this. And if that's the case, we need to get it back. Then any control he has over the spirits will be destroyed."

"And what will happen to Bill?"

Mark hesitated for a millisecond, and Sam could see the answer in his face. "We'll try our best to save him, Sam," he said unconvincingly. "But I'm not going to risk any more lives trying to save a miserable scumbag like Bill."

Sam nodded. He couldn't really disagree; Bill clearly had little regard for the safety of others. And if Bill had also caused the previous town disasters - including the one at the harvest festival - Sam really couldn't care less if the man survived. Not that he'd ever vocalize that opinion.

Mark looked at his watch, squinting in the darkness to make out the numbers. "It's almost two am. We better get a move on if we want to make sure everything's done and cleaned up by dawn." He looked at Dean who was now standing semi-straight but bracing himself slightly against the car door. "You gonna make it?" he asked him jokingly, but the question held a hint of sincerity. Dean didn't look good at all.

Dean smiled weakly, choosing not to BS them with false reassurances. "Honestly? I'll feel a thousand times better when we catch this a-hole."

Mark nodded. "I hear ya. I've got the spells right here," he told them, holding out a small pamphlet-like book, "and here," Mark added, pointing to his head. "Take the book," he said, handing it over to Dean. "In case I'm incapacitated and you guys need to finish the ritual without me."

Dean slipped the book into one of the duffel bags and slung it over his right shoulder, wincing as that aggravated the stitch in his side.

"Stay close and watch out for thrown objects," Mark instructed, looking specifically at Dean. "I think you've taken enough hits for the night."

Dean smirked, "You're telling me."

"Alright, let's get going. Richard, make sure to stick with me. Sam, Dean - watch your backs."

Richard seemed less nervous than before, perhaps finally able to accept the situation. Or maybe he was feeling guilty for the role he played in causing the whole mess. Whatever the reason, he appeared more willing to partake in this latest scheme than he had the previous one. Perhaps he was just as angry at Bill's betrayal as the three hunters were. "I know this building better than almost anyone in the college. Follow me."

They hadn't gotten too far before Sam heard the most unwelcome noise in the world: the warning whine of a cop car. Shit. Sam went to the window, immediately recognizing Sheriff Maxwell. And the sheriff seemed pissed. But at least he was alone. "Hey," Sam called out, his voice barely above a whisper. Even so, he got everyone's attention immediately, and he pointed towards the window. Dean and Mark both added their own colorful language, recognizing the threat that the sheriff's presence posed. Not only could he toss them in jail for trespassing, he was one more civilian who could be injured or killed by Bill's vengeance.

"The Anthropology department is on the second floor, just past the main lobby," Richard said hurriedly, already beginning to retreat back towards the entrance. "There's a display case running the length of the hallway, and it has some of the Esopus artifacts in it. There's other stuff in there too, but I never really took the time to study it. Bill's office is at the end of that hallway."

"Whoa, where are you going?" Dean asked, thinking for a brief second that Richard was bailing on them.

"Maxwell and I are poker buddies," he explained. "Don't worry, he won't bother you guys. But I probably won't be able to sneak back in here, if that's alright."

Dean found himself grinning at this turn of good luck. "Yeah that's alright, man."

Sam seemed more hesitant, though. "Be careful, okay? We don't even know for sure that Bill is in here. And if he's not, then there's a very good chance he could cause harm to you. After all, you're the last of the body snatchers, right?"

Richard nodded, mulling over the situation. "I won't leave the parking lot. And I have your cell numbers, just in case something goes wrong. I'll be right outside."

Sam quickly glanced at Dean before pulling out the keys to the Impala. "Here, stay in the car. If anything happens, get somewhere safe."

"Sam!" Dean started to protest, but Sam cut him off.

"Just be careful with her. He's very protective," Sam said, motioning to his brother. A quick glance out the window showed Sheriff Maxwell approaching the college doors, and Sam pushed the keys into Richard's hands.

"Good luck. And be careful," Richard said sincerely, taking the keys and hurrying down the corridor. Sam watched from the window as Rich intercepted the sheriff, leading him back away from the building. He breathed a sigh of relief that the latest threat had been temporarily dealt with.

"Alright, let's continue," Mark instructed. "Stay low and stay quiet. We probably only have one shot at this. Let's not blow it."

Richard's directions, though brief, were spot-on. They reached the Anthropology corridor in no time and with no interruption by a certain stubborn sheriff. Mark held up his hand - both to silence and halt the boys - when they reached Professor Bill Watson's door.

"Do we just...go in?" Dean asked after a beat.

"He might not even be in there," Sam pointed out.

Mark didn't answer, but gripped his gun and motioned for Sam to move to the other side of the door, then waved his hand so they would follow him in.

The office was dark, but Bill's face was illuminated by the faint orangey-glow from the moon. He sat eerily still, the look on his face oddly passive and distinctly disturbing. Bill didn't move an inch when the hunters entered, and Mark kept his gun trained on the man. "Where's the wand, Bill?"

Bill smiled and crossed his hands in front of him. "Some place safe. Away from hunters like you."

"It can't be too far," Sam spoke up. "You didn't have much time to hide it after your little stunt at the library." Sam said angrily, looking over at his brother who was hunched slightly, cradling his left side again.

Bill smiled again. "Unfortunately, it appears that the spirits didn't manage to take you out for good," he said to Dean. "No worries, none of you will survive my final act."

Dean glanced nervously at Sam, looking behind him, getting an uneasy vibe that there was someone else here. Whether or not it was the angry spirit of a long-dead Indian chief, he couldn't tell.

"You won't get away with this, Bill. If you know anything about the Esopus, then you know what happened to Chief Papequanaehen. The spirits don't react well when you abuse their power."

Bill grinned evilly. "Yeah well, if that were the case I would have been killed back in 1973 following the Harvest Festival disaster." He shook his head, thinking. "No, I'm stronger than Papequanaehen was. I know more than him. There's no stopping me."

Sam knew that kind of arrogance usually got one killed, but it was also an exceedingly dangerous quality in an adversary.

"Not this time," Mark said confidently, and he began to recite one of the spells he had given to Dean and which he apparently had memorized. The furniture began to shake, and Dean found himself bracing for another barrage. Bill was unfazed throughout all of it, grinning widely as Mark continued the ritual. The shaking increased, the rattling of the furniture resounding in the confines of the office, creating a deafening cacophony.

Mark completed the spell just as the glass in the room shattered, showering the hunters with tiny razor-sharp pieces. And yet Bill still sat there, smiling.

"Why isn't it working?" Sam whispered.

"Because I'm the one controlling it," a voice said behind Sam. He turned slowly, recognizing the sultry voice of the library aide. Emily. "And I protected it." Emily was holding the wand out in front of her, eyes alight. "How else do you think I knew so much about the history, Sammy?" Sam took a tentative step forward. "Uh-uh-uh," she warned. "Stay back."

Sam held his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. "Emily, think about what you're doing. This is crazy."

"Is it? When I was younger, my father and I were forced off our land - land that had been passed down for centuries. We lost our home and he lost his way of living, all because the town decided it had the right to do that." She laughed, and Sam was certain she was insane. "And yet this is crazy."

"This is murder, Emily. It's wrong that they took your land, but killing innocent people won't change anything."

"Yeah, innocent," Emily huffed sarcastically. "My father died last year. He turned to alcohol when he lost his land. They drove him to that, and I had to watch as my father slowly killed himself. So quit lecturing me about right and wrong. As far as I'm concerned, they're all murderers."

Dean watched on, feeling slightly woozy. "So what's your connection with Bill, sweetheart?"

Emily glared at him, clearly unimpressed with the nickname. She smiled at Bill. "I couldn't have done any of this without him. Isn't that right, Sweetie?"

Dean shot Sam a confused look. "Wait, what? Seriously?" he asked, as she planted a long kiss on Bill's mouth. "Gross," he mumbled.

"Bill here saved me. After my father's death, I was lost. He showed me the way. He showed me how to get revenge."

"Of course he did," Dean mumbled. "Great role model you are."

Bill seemed nervous, shifting slightly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. About what, Sam wasn't sure.

"Bill here is the perfect tutor. He gave me everything I needed to know about Heka. You see, his father was the one who orchestrated the whole Harvest Festival disaster."

"But I thought..." Mark trailed off.

"You thought that Billy here did it, right? Nope, he's too much of a coward. Lets others do his bidding for him. Isn't that right, Bill?"

Sam knew what the look on Bill's face was now. It was fear. He had created a killer and he had no idea how to stop her. His bravado before had just been a front. He was scared to death.

Emily took Bill's face in her hands and he stiffened against his chair. "I trusted you," she whispered, her breath hot against his cheek. "And you stabbed me in the back."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, trying to pull her anger from Bill, and strangely feeling the need to defend the guy who had just tried to kill him. "He's clearlyon your side. He tried to kill me not an hour ago. He's still trying to kill us."

Emily had cocked her head towards Dean, but kept her grip firm on Bill's chin. "Don't be stupid," she said with disgust. "He was helping you. I saw."

Dean tried again, not sure why he cared. "Yeah, and then he turned on us and threw a fucking table at me."

Emily rolled her eyes. "He wasn't going to kill you. He only did that because he knew I was watching." She turned back to Bill again, and Sam felt the room grow colder. "I'm always watching. And I know better. You were trying to stop me, weren't you?"

"I...I," Bill stuttered - the first time Sam had seen him show weakness. "You've killed so many people, Em. Good people."

Emily stood up. "Good people!" she shouted. Thunder sounded outside, the beginnings of a storm. "They took our land, killed our people. And you're defending them," Emily continued, disgusted. The energy in the room was picking up again, and Sam was bracing for another onslaught.

Bill held his hands in front of his face, realizing that Emily was no longer on his side. "That's not true, sweetie. I'm - "

A sickening crack echoed through the room, and Dean looked on in horror as Bill slumped to the ground, dead. Emily had broken his neck without even breaking a sweat and with no warning whatsoever. The bitch was powerful and crazy. And that was a lethal combination.

Emily turned back to the hunters, challenging them to take her on. Mark didn't seem fazed, taking a step forward, his gun raised. "You really shouldn't have done that," he told her seriously.

Emily smirked. "Why, what do you think you're going to do? Shoot me with your little gun? You won't get the chance."

Sam took a step forward, nervous about Mark's apparent death wish. He saw Dean do the same out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not going to do anything," Mark told her, becoming more confident. The lights started flickering again, the energy in the room picking up. Emily's cocksure smile started to fade, replaced by a look of uncertainty.

"What's going on?" she asked angrily, holding up the wand.

"What? Your mentor never told you the consequences of killing another Esopus?"

The temperature in the room dropped another degree, and Sam took a step towards Dean, seeing his brother waver. The room started to shake again, and Sam caught his brother just as he started to go down. "You okay, Dean?"

Dean put a hand to his head, shaking it slightly. "Yeah, just dizzy," he muttered, annoyed at himself. Sam helped him to a chair, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder even when he was seated. He didn't know what was going on right now, but he knew he couldn't leave his brother's side.

"No, no this can't be happening!" Emily shouted, looking at some unseen enemy. "Stay back!"

"Who's she talking to?" Dean whispered, unable to see what was causing the young woman's distress. Sam shrugged, unsure himself.

"I control you!" she yelled one last time, but it was futile. Emily began to seize, blood bubbling up from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground, overtaken by an invisible force. Mark went to her side, no longer afraid of whatever power she possessed and apparently holding good to his promise to try and save the perpetrator. He caught Emily as she fell, lowering her to the ground.

"What do you see?" he asked, trying to get her to focus. "Who's doing this?"

Emily focused her eyes on Mark's for a brief second. "Sc...screw...you," she choked out, coughing blood and taking one last breath before going limp in Mark's arms, dead.

The second Emily stopped breathing, everything in the room stilled. The chill in the air that had become so pervasive immediately dissipated, replaced my a sticky humidity from the lingering rain storm. Sam let go of his brother's shoulder, going over to Mark's side.

"What was that?" he asked, looking down at the lifeless form of the pretty coed.

"Revenge," he said simply, laying Emily down. "She killed an Esopus using the power from the wand. No protection spell on earth would have saved her. What, exactly, killed her, I have no idea. But I don't think we're in any danger. And now that we have the wand, I have a simple spell that will break its power for any person - Esopusor Huguenot who possesses it."

Sam nodded. "Okay, good. But we should probably clean all this up first, before Sheriff Maxwell decides to see what all the commotion was about." Sam looked back towards Dean, anxious to make sure his brother was okay. He still sat in the chair Sam had left him in, but he looked pale and slightly dazed. "Dean," Sam said loudly, getting his brother's attention. Dean raised his eyes to look at his brother.

"I'm okay, Sam," he reassured him. "Just tired and sore. Let's finish this up and get out of here."

They made quick work of cleaning Watson's office, choosing to leave the bodies where they lay. The sheriff would have a hell of a time trying to figure out how the deaths had occurred, but at least nothing could point back to the hunters' involvement.

Dawn was just starting to break as the hunters snuck out a back door to the university. A quick and covert look at the front parking lot revealed that Sheriff Maxwell and Richard Holgrum had left. Sam pulled out his phone, quickly dialing Holgrum's number. The dean sounded tired when he picked up but immediately became alert when he realized it was Sam.

"Is it over?" he asked anxiously.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, we think so. Bill's dead. And Emily."

"Who?"

"I'll explain later. I thought we told you to stay in the parking lot."

Richard sighed. "I tried, but Maxwell insisted on driving me home. I didn't want to make him suspicious, so we left right when the storm started. Your keys are under the front tire on the driver's side."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. So the sheriff hadn't heard them. "Okay, good. As long as you're safe. We're heading back to the bed & breakfast now, but I'll give you a call later to explain everything. Thanks for running interference for us back there."

"Of course, but I should be thanking the three of you. Without your help, I'd be dead."

Sam nodded. "Don't mention it. It's kind of our job. I'll talk to you later." He hung up the phone and looked over at Dean and Mark. His brother was leaning heavily against the older hunter, not even trying to mask his exhaustion. "I think we're in the clear. Should we do the ritual now?" Sam asked reluctantly, knowing Dean really needed to sleep.

Mark looked just as tired as Sam felt, and shook his head wearily. "I think you boys could use some rest. I sure know I could. Besides, it's probably best we do the spell under cover of darkness. I'll hold onto the wand now - I think everything should be fine." Dean pushed off of Mark, wobbling slightly as he made his way to the Impala. Mark followed close by, making sure he didn't fall. "Get some sleep, kid. You look like shit."

Dean nodded, climbing into the passenger seat. "You too."

Mark walked over to Sam after Dean had closed his door. "He looks worse than before. Make sure he gets to bed when you guys get back. And make sure he's not hiding any other injuries from the library." He looked at his watch. "It's almost six now. I'll stop by your place around four in the evening and I'll get everything ready. Should be a simple spell, but I'll double check it just to make sure."

Sam nodded his thanks. "Okay, I'll see you in a little while."

"Leave me alone, Sam," Dean repeated for what had to be the fifth time since they'd returned to the bed and breakfast. "Just wanna sleep."

Sam sighed heavily. "Are you sure you're okay? You were unconscious when we found you."

"And I've been conscious for the last six freaking hours. My throat hurts, my side hurts, and my freaking shoulder hurts. Nothing new."

"When did you hurt your shoulder?"

"Oh for...probably when Bill hurled a freaking table at me."

"Fine," Sam grumbled, climbing into his own bed. "I'm just worried about you."

Dean sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. But I'm tired and sick and can barely keep my eyes open. I just want to sleep," he repeated.

"Okay, okay. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Dean mumbled something unintelligible, wrapping his arms around a pillow and curling up on his right side. "G'night."

Dean drifted off quickly, his breaths evening out almost immediately. Sam, however, found it much harder to sleep, the events of the case haunting his dreams, along with the look on Emily's face just before she died. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she was the killer. She was so young and had seemed so nice when he'd met her. Showed you could never really tell what was going on in someone's head.

Sam was eventually able to doze off for a few hours, waking around two in the afternoon. He sat up slowly, glancing over at his brother. Dean was still on his right side, back to Sam. Sam got up quietly and headed to the bathroom to shower before waking up his brother.

The hot water felt like heaven on his knotted muscles, and Sam let himself relax for the first time since they arrived in New Paltz. One more ritual and then they were done with this case and could actually rest for a little while. Give Dean some time to get over this illness and the new bruises from last night. Sam stood under the steady stream for a few minutes before turning off the water and climbing out, quickly toweling dry and changing into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Dean was still lying in the same position he'd been in when Sam had gone into the bathroom, but as Sam approached his bed, he could hear short, gasping breaths. "Dean," Sam said urgently, placing a hand on his brother's bare arm, shocked at the coldness of the extremity. If possible, Dean's skin was even paler than it had been earlier, and he didn't rouse when Sam made contact. "Dean wake the fuck up," Sam said more loudly, shaking his brother gently, then more vigorously as Dean failed to respond.

Sam grabbed his brother's wrist, checking for - and failing to find - a radial pulse. "Fuck, fuck fuck," Sam murmured, immediately recognizing the signs of shock. A check at Dean's carotid revealed a weak and rapid pulse. "Wake up, man. Come on," Sam pleaded, making one more futile attempt to rouse his brother. He pulled out his cell phone, quickly finding the number he was looking for.

Mark picked up on the first ring, but Sam cut him off before he could answer. "Mark, get over here now!" Sam had the phone held between his shoulder and his ear, laying his brother flat on the bed and gathering pillows to raise his feet.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Mark asked, and Sam could hear that he was moving, already out the door and in the hallway.

Sam didn't answer right away, still trying to get his brother to wake the fuck up. "He's in shock, Mark. Dean's in shock and I don't know why. I...I think he's dying."