Best Laid Schemes (3/8)
A/N First the Jersey Devil, now this…I swear I do more research for these stories than I ever did for school. I'm totally coming up with the case while I'm in the process of writing it, so if things seem to not make total sense, that could be the reason. Oh and all the stuff about the Huguenots and Egyptian magic…totally made that up. And the supernatural being/curse/case that I finally settled on (you'll see soon enough), may seem totally implausible and ridiculous and for that I apologize. I took a little bit from legends I've heard, a good deal from online research, and then (my favorite parts) from an Are You Afraid of the Dark episode that terrified me when I was a kid. If you know what I'm talking about, you're awesome. Sorry for the delay in my posting of chapter 3, but I've had a busy last 2 weeks. I was actually writing this story while I should have been studying (and should still be studying), but then my priorities never seem to be in order. So I REALLY hope you enjoy this chapter, because I've put a ton of work into it. Please let me know what you think
Sam stopped at the local drugstore after leaving the library, remembering that there weren't many supplies left in the first aid kit. And if Dean continued to get worse, Sam knew he would eventually give in and take the meds. Dean may be stubborn, but he wasn't an idiot and there was no point in suffering if there was something they could do about it. And if it became too much for either of them to handle, Sam would drag his brother to the hospital, come hell or high water.
He went up and down the aisles, pulling medications for every conceivable illness. Sam wasn't usually such a spendthrift, but he had no idea what was actually wrong with Dean and he wanted to be sure to cover all his bases. Plus, their latest credit card had a relatively high limit, so Sam figured he might as well stock up now.
"You opening your own clinic?" the cashier, Amy, asked when Sam had dumped his two large armfuls of supplies on the counter.
Sam's lips quirked up in amusement. "Something like that. Sick, stubborn brother."
"Ahhh, yes. I know the type." She rang up the medications and packed them into plastic bags before turning back to Sam. "That will be $89.48." Sam nodded, handing her the credit card. "Okay, if you could just sign here, Paul…Stanley? Really?" she asked him skeptically.
"My parents were huge KISS fans," Sam said nervously. Dammit, Dean. But Amy didn't seem suspicious, just amused, and Sam thanked her before taking his bags and hurrying back to the car.
It was nearing 6:00 and the sun still shone brightly in the sky, casting an orangey glow on the streets. The early May air was still a little chilly, but the crisp mountain scent was so refreshing that Sam wished he could spend a little more time exploring the town. Maybe another time, when Dean wasn't so sick and they didn't have to deal with the angry ghosts of a disturbed Indian burial ground. Like that would ever happen. Taking one last look at the town and the mountains in the distance, Sam climbed into the Impala and pulled onto the main street.
He pulled into Mountain Meadows three minutes later, finding a spot right in front of their room. The lights were off, suggesting that Dean was still asleep. Sam was happy that Dean had finally given in to his body's need for rest, but he worried about the severity of his brother's illness. Sam was able to read Dean pretty well, and from his calculations, his brother had been sick for more than a week. Of course, he'd been denying it every day until now. And they still had this damn hunt to deal with. Maybe he and Mark could finish it while Dean rested, though that might require the use of a tranquilizer gun. Though Sam had compiled such an extensive supply of medications, he could probably find something in there that would do the trick…
Sam pulled out the room key and quietly opened the door to the room, not wanting to disturb his brother. Sure enough, Dean was right where he'd left him, though at some point he had pulled off his shirt and changed into sweat pants and was now flat on his back instead of on his stomach. Sam put the bags from the drug store on his own bed, then moved closer to Dean's to see if he could assess his brother without waking him.
The first thing Sam noticed about his brother was the pallor of his skin. It was stark white, almost as pale as the white sheets he lay on. Dean wasn't particularly dark-skinned, but this level of paleness looked unnatural and Sam knew it was just one more symptom to add to the ever-growing list. Sam also noticed that his brother's body was shaking slightly; he was shivering even though beads of sweat were collecting on his forehead, suggesting fever. And sure enough, Sam could feel the heat pouring off Dean before he'd even placed a hand on his forehead.
Dean stirred suddenly, and Sam jumped back, not wanting to receive an inadvertent fist to the face. His anxiety was short-lived, however, as Dean seemed to settle back down, undisturbed by his brother's presence. Though Sam was momentarily relieved not to have to deal with a sick, cranky brother, the fact that he didn'twake up only added to his concern.
The familiar rock ring tone from Dean's cell caused Sam to jump back once more in surprise, then he fumbled quickly to grab the phone off the side table where Dean had left it. Seeing Mark's name on the caller ID, Sam quickly picked up, walking to the bathroom so he could talk without disturbing Dean, though he seriously doubted anything could wake his brother up at this point.
"Hello?" Sam asked, keeping his voice low.
"Dean! Where the hell have you been? I've left you a dozen messages! I saw the Impala in the parking lot - what's going on?"
"Uh sorry - Mark? This is Dean's brother, Sam." There was no answer from the other line, and Sam had to check his phone to make sure Mark was still there.
"Sam! Of course, Dean told me all about you. Sorry I didn't mean to explode on you, I was just concerned - Dean said he'd call when you guys got here and when I saw his car outside, I thought I'd be hearing from him. But he hasn't answered any of my calls - is everything okay?"
Sam nodded before realizing Mark couldn't see him. "Yeah, yeah everything's okay. Dean's just feeling a little under the weather. He's been asleep since we got here and I was out at the library checking some things out."
"How sick is he?"
Sam heard the concern in Mark's voice, and he instantly liked the man. "He seems pretty rundown, but we've been working nonstop for the last few weeks, so that might be compounding whatever illness he has. But if you've worked with him before, you know he'll refuse to rest."
"Yeah, I know," Mark admitted, and Sam could tell from the sound of his voice that he truly didknow. Maybe Mark knew Dean better than his brother had let on.
"Did you want to meet up with us? Dean told me a little bit about the hunt, but I'm sure you have a lot more to fill us in on."
"I do, but it can wait until morning. If Dean's sick, you should let him sleep."
Sam looked out the bathroom door to see his brother shifting restlessly in his sleep. "Actually, I don't think he'll sleep much longer as it is, and he'd be pissed at me for not waking him up. Plus, I stopped at the drugstore in town and I want to see if I can't make him take some of the meds I picked up. Where are you now?"
"Right in town. I was just going to pick up some dinner. Are you hungry?"
Sam's stomach growled in response, and he realized he hadn't eaten anything since they'd stopped for breakfast in New Jersey. "Starving."
"Okay, well how about I pick up a pizza and bring it over. What room are you guys staying in?"
"Six, and thanks, that sounds great. Just give me about fifteen minutes or so. I'm going to try and wake Dean up, and I'm sure he'll want to make himself look at least half-way presentable for you."
Mark chuckled softly. "I've seen that kid at his worst. But yeah, I know what you mean. Just make sure he isn't cranky when I get there."
Sam smirked. "I'll try my best, but no promises."
"Oh boy," Mark groaned. "Okay then, I'll see you soon, Sam."
"Yeah," Sam told him, hanging up the phone. Dean was still shifting around restlessly, groaning. "Hey," Sam said softly, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder and trying to still his movements. Dean was furnace-hot to the touch, but he opened his eyes slowly when he felt Sam's hand.
"Sam?" Dean croaked out. His voice sounded rough and it was obviously painful for him to speak. Sam grabbed a bottle of water out of Dean's duffel bag while Dean struggled to sit up. He greedily drank from the bottle once Sam had handed it to him.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
Dean gave the water back to Sam, his hands too shaky to hold it any longer without spilling it. "Okay," Dean said, confused. "Why am I wet?"
"Because you're sweating bullets, man. You're burning up."
"m' fucking freezing," Dean responded, pulling the blankets up higher around himself. His eyes started to drift closed again, and Sam shook him gently.
"Are you still tired, Dean? You slept the entire afternoon," though Sam tried, he couldn't keep the worry from creeping back into his voice.
Dean opened his eyes quickly, looking outside at the growing darkness. "Shit! Sam what time is it?" Without waiting for an answer, Dean began to kick the blankets off his legs, hurrying to get out of bed. "Where the hell is my phone?" he mumbled to himself. "Mark is going to killme." He took one step away from the bed before he was falling back again, Sam's hands grabbing him before he could fall.
"Whoa, man. Stop. Your phone is right here," he said, holding it out to his brother. "And I already spoke with Mark. He's not pissed at you."
"You talked to him?"
"Yeah, bout five minutes ago."
"What'd he say? What'd you tell him?"
Sam knew what Dean was asking. He wanted to know if Sam had told Mark that he was sick. Not that it mattered much - any idiot could see Dean wasn't feeling well. "I told him you must have left your phone at the bed and breakfast," Sam lied. But it seemed harmless enough and he didn't want Dean going off on him. After all, he had promised Mark that he would try not to make Dean angry. "He's coming over in a few minutes to talk about the case."
"What's a few minutes?" Dean asked, already attempting to stand up again. This time he was more successful, and he crouched by his duffel bag, pulling out some clothes to change into.
Sam looked at his watch. "Ten or fifteen minutes He's bringing over a pizza, so you still have some time if you want to make yourself look a little less like death."
Dean flipped Sam the finger, then headed to the bathroom with a pile of clothes to shower and change.
He emerged five minutes later looking significantly better, though the fever flush still reddened his cheeks, and Sam thought he could hear a faint wheezing in his brother's breaths. "Hey, I got some meds from the drugstore earlier. Do you want anything? You should probably take something for that fever."
Dean shook his head. "Maybe later."
"Why not now?"
Dean glared at Sam, undoubtedly about to answer with something unpleasant, but the sound of someone knocking on the door saved Sam from his brother's tirade. Dean looked through the peephole before opening the door and greeting Mark with enthusiasm that Sam hadn't seen in quite awhile. Mark pulled Dean into a tight hug after placing the pizza he brought down on the table, obviously very happy to see him.
"Long time no see," Dean told him, once they'd separated.
"Way too long," Mark agreed. Mark looked like an older version of John. His hair was graying slightly and he had the same solid build and scruffy five-o'clock shadow that was so characteristic of their father. But Sam could tell, just from the way he hugged Dean and the obvious concern on his face, Mark Ruttledge was very different from John Winchester. No wonder Dean liked him.
"And you must be Sam," he said, turning to Sam. Sam nodded, extending his hand to Mark, but Mark surprised him and pulled him into a tight hug. "It's great to finally meet you, Sam. I've heard so much about you - from your dad and Dean."
Sam smiled, feeling both surprised and happy to hear that. "Really?"
Mark nodded. "Yep, Dean here went on and on about how smart his little brother was."
"Oh really?" Sam asked, turning to Dean.
Dean punched his brother lightly on the arm. "Don't get too flattered. Mark always exaggerates."
"It's true," Mark admitted, though he shook his head at Sam to indicate he was lying. "But apparently Sam wasn't exaggerating. You look like shit, Dean." Dean glared at Sam, obviously annoyed that his brother had tattled on him, but Sam just shrugged in return.
"Not possible," Dean said, shaking his head, regretting it almost immediately as the room seemed to spin around him. He sat down on the bed, hoping Mark and Sam didn't notice the dizzy spell.
"You dizzy?" Sam asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Of courseSam had noticed.
"Get off me," Dean growled, pushing away his brother's hand. "I told you I'm fine. Just a little cold." Dean proceeded to undermine that statement by breaking into a painful coughing fit that left him winded and even more tired than he'd been before he'd gone to sleep.
"Here, take this." Dean looked up, expecting to see Sam hovering over him with water and some meds, but instead it was Mark, looking just as concerned as he had the last time they'd hunted together. Dean didn't argue or question the pills that Mark held out for him, dry-swallowing them before chasing them with some water. He heard a quiet huff of disbelief from Sam and purposely avoided looking in his direction. "Good. Why don't you try and get some more sleep, kid? You really do look terrible."
Dean shook his head, feeling his eyes stinging with tears. What the fuck? He quickly ran his hand down his face, wiping away the tears as surreptitiously as possible. Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I look terrible, Mark. Sam's been telling me that for days. But I can do this hunt. I want to."
Mark studied him for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Okay, but no heroics, you got it? The second you feel like this sickness could be something serious, you let me and Sam know. I don't want it to get out of control like last time, Dean. I've never seen your dad so worried…"
"Okay, I got it, Mark!" Dean spoke up, cutting him off and risking a quick glance at his brother. Sure enough, Sam was hanging on to every one of Mark's words, clearly very interested in what he had been saying. Though it probably took a monumental effort on his part, Sam kept his mouth shut. But Dean knew he'd be hearing about this later on.
Mark grinned a little at Dean's obvious annoyance. He held up his large stack of notes. "Let me tell you guys what I have so far." Mark pulled one of the chairs from the table over so that he was sitting facing both beds. Sam sat down on his own bed, angling himself so that he was facing both Mark and Dean, who was still hunched over on his own bed. "I haven't found out much more than what I told you the other day," Mark said, addressing Dean. "Except for this," he held out two pieces of paper, one for Sam and one for Dean.
The paper was a computer print-out of a semi-circular wand. Engraved in the wand were various symbols and etches of strange animals-like beings.
"A boomerang?" Dean croaked.
"That's not a boomerang, Dean," Sam admonished, looking over at Mark. "These symbols are Egyptian," he stated, confused. "Why would that be relevant in a case involving a Native American curse?"
Mark smiled. "Very good, Sam." Dean kicked Sam's leg, hard.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?"
"Show off."
"Boys," Mark said sternly, though his voice made it clear he was amused. "It is Egyptian, Sam. And it's incredibly old. Probably from as far back as the second millennium BC."
Dean whistled. "Holy shit."
"Yeah, it's extremely old. This is an ivory wand and these symbols," Mark said, leaning forward and pointing to the picture Dean held, "they're Egyptian deities. Kek, Set, Apep, and Menhit, to name a few. Not the good ones, either - they're the dangerous, evil deities that were believed to cause harm. This god here," Mark pointed to a serpent-like creature in the center of the object, "is Unut, the snake goddess. According to ancient Egyptian history, the person who possessed this wand could use it to control these fearsome deities - to summon them and make them obey him or her."
"So we're dealing with black magic?" Sam was thoroughly interested in Mark's information, hanging on to every word. Dean looked like he was close to falling asleep.
"A large part of the Egyptian lifestyle involved magic, or Heka. But it was generally used for protection, not to cause harm. The dangerous beings carved on the ivory wands would protect the owner from evil forces."
"Could the owner summon those gods to use them for evil, though?" Sam asked, beginning to get where Mark was going with this.
"It would stand to reason, yes. Destructive curses were sometimes brought against Egyptian enemies but, again, that was mainly a defensive mechanism. Heka was a way of life, and Egyptians took great responsibility and care with it."
"What if the wand was in the hands of a more unscrupulous person?" Dean's voice was barely above a whisper, and he held his hand to his throat as he swallowed, as if it was too painful to even do that.
"Ahh, so he is paying attention," Mark smiled.
"But why would there be an ancient Egyptian monster-summoning wand mixed in with Native American bones?" Dean questioned.
"I'm not entirely clear on those details, actually. The Esopus tribe, a branch of the Lenape Native Americans, were here before this area was settled by the Huguenots, French Protestants who left France during Louis XIV's ascension to the throne in 1661. There was some speculation that they fled to Africa before finally traveling to the states and settling in New York. How they obtained the wand, I'm not sure, but they must have retrieved it during their time spent in and around Egypt."
"But how do you know that the wand was ever actually here, in New Paltz?" Sam asked.
"Like anything else, it's mainly speculation. But history accounts from the Huguenots mention a semi-moon-shaped Egyptian object that 'brought great suffering and pain' to anyone it was used against," Mark read from a paper in his pile. "At some point, the Esopus must have obtained the wand, and first-hand accounts from the Huguenots speak of the great power bestowed upon Chief Papequanaehen, one of the Esopus' most powerful and merciless chiefs. Even though they had less manpower and weaponry, the Esopus were able to ward off almost any attack from outside forces during Papequanaehen's reign."
Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but Sam spoke up first. "If the wand was so powerful, why would they just bury it, then? Wouldn't they keep it, use it to their advantage?"
"Like any supernatural object, the wand could backfire against its possessor. If the owner used the wand carelessly or for simply evil purposes, the dangerous forces inscribed on the wand would turn against the abuser, punishing him the way he had punished his enemies. Chief Papequanaehen, in a battle against the Huguenots, ordered the deaths of dozens of women and children. He was dead the next day, seemingly the victim of a wild dog attack."
"Was that the last time the wand was mentioned?" Dean this time.
Mark nodded. "As far as I can tell."
"And you think they buried the wand with the chief's body?"
"I do. I think the Esopus believed that that was the only way to ensure that no one else would abuse the power. It was their method of protection against evils far too powerful for them to control."
"Okay," Dean said slowly. "So if everything you've said so far is true, and Chief Papequanaehen was one of the bodies they dug up last month, we're potentially dealing with some serious black magic."
"Exactly," Mark said grimly. "And if we don't find it soon, we're going to have a lot more bodies to deal with."
Sam and Dean looked at each other, both of them realizing that this case was going to be way more complicated than they'd originally thought. And, potentially, way more dangerous.
Dean allowed himself to lie back then, the energy he'd mustered to stay awake finally leaving him. Sam looked at his brother, then back at Mark, who seemed just as concerned about Dean as he was. He put his hands over his face, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.
Shit.
Again, the stuff about the Huguenots and the Egyptians, and the Esopus…total fiction, made up specifically to fit the needs of my story. I know almost none of it is historically accurate, so I apologize to anyone who knows that stuff better than I do. I hope the story isn't too confusing for you right now. Let me know if it is, and I'll try to be clearer if I can. Thank you for reading!