09x05 - Sleeping Village - Part Three: Red Sun Rising
Episode Number: 09x05 of Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Sleeping Village
Subtitle: Red Sun Rising
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word Count: 2,651
Rating: R
Warnings: language, violence, terror
Status: Complete. Feedback appreciated.
Sam whipped up the concoction needed for the Dream Root tea with little trouble. "We still need hair," he reminded Dean.
"Well, till we know more about how this dude strikes, we won't be able to," Dean remarked. "Look, I'm calling it, okay?"
"Right, okay," Sam said.
Dean used the bathroom and crawled into bed.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom, looking for Dean's comb. Feeling like a total creeper, he took some of his brother's hair. Maybe they couldn't grab Baku-gone-ganker tonight, but he could investigate Dean's nightmares.
Ever since it occurred to him that the Bunker protected Dean from whatever sent him nightmares, it kept nagging him. If someone, or something, was giving Dean nightmares, then there must be a reason, and probably not for the benefit of his health. Dean's suspicious, that the angels were doing it to track down Castiel, didn't make a lot of sense to Sam.
So, after stealing his brother's hair, Sam planned on breaking into his dreams. Creepy, yes. Likely to piss him off? Definitely. Necessary? Without Cas here to drop in on Dean's dreams, absolutely.
Resolve in his mind, Sam mixed a part of the tea, careful only to use a portion of it so as to have enough for the case. Then he, too, fell asleep.
Dean cooked in the kitchen of the bunker, flipping pancakes. He had an apron and boxers on, because, well, why the hell not?
Next came eggs, bacon, and pie. Three different kinds of pie.
"Cas, Sam, breakfast!" Dean yelled, a paternal ring in his voice.
Sam walked in, his hair messy and his eyes tired. "Thanks, Dean."
"Cas?" Dean called again.
The angel stumbled in. At first Sam thought Cas was sleepy, but then he remembered that angels don't sleep. And that's when he saw the blood dripping from his back.
"R-ru-run!" Cas managed to yell. "Go!"
"No, Cas!" The panic in Dean's voice made Sam's stomach drop. "Cas!" He cradled the angel in his arms, bleeding on the kitchen floor. "You'll be find, you'll heal," Dean comforted him.
"No, he won't," Crowley's voice was soft. He appeared across the table from Sam. "Hello boys."
"Crowley!" Sam yelled. "You're dead!"
"Sorry, no, as you can see, I'm very much alive," he pulled out an angel blade. "And I'm here collecting good on some old dues."
Crowley made to stab Sam, who easily side-stepped the attack and struggled with him, grabbing for the angel blade. Dean didn't move from the kitchen floor. The room lit up white hot, then it all stopped. Cas's body lay across Dean's lap, his winds spread out and burned across the room and even Dean himself.
"Cas," Dean whispered weakly.
Crowley, or Dream-Crowley, fought dirty. He poked Sam in the eye and stabbed him in the arm. With a bit of luck, Sam pushed the demon away and kept hold of the angel blade. With a single, quick, brutal movement, Sam stabbed through Crowley's neck.
Dean didn't move from the floor.
"Dean," Sam said. "This is just a dream, Cas is home and he's fine."
"What?"
"You're dreaming, having a nightmare," Sam repeated.
Before Dean could respond, a voice filled the room. "This is what they have planned, Dean, you understand? You hear me? You need to hear me, brother. You need to know. Please, Dean."
The voice repeated these words with its long drawl growing each time. But no one appeared.
"A dream?" Dean asked, ready to believe it. He'd heard that voice before. "Then how the hell are you here?"
Sam looked away from his brother. "Dream Tea."
"Seriously, Sammy?"
"Yell at me in the real world, Dean, okay? Wake up."
They both snapped awake.
"What the hell, Sam?" Dean roared. "Seriously? You dream-jacked me?"
He got up and started pacing, "Haven't we had conversations about personal-fucking-space?"
"Dean, your nightmares, someone or something is doing this to you," Sam said. "I took the potion to make sure Evil Snuffleupagus didn't hammer it in, okay?"
"And you didn't think mentioning that or asking was something you should do?"
Sam looked away. "That voice sounded familiar."
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm telling you, whatever's happening to you, it's a case," Sam said. "Which means your personal space is irrelevant because saving your life is more important."
"Damnit, Sam," Dean griped. "I can't - I can't do this, okay?"
"Okay, fine, let's put a pin in it for now."
"A pin?"
"Yeah."
"What're you, a fifty-year-old-woman?"
"Shut up."
Sam woke up to Dean's prodding.
"What?"
"There was another one," Dean said. "Last night. Crime scene is still fresh. Com'on."
After his morning cleanup routine, Sam grabbed the keys. His brother promptly swatted them out of his hands.
"You agreed to let me drive half the time," Sam argued.
"I did, then you dream-jacked me, you asshole," Dean snarled. "So I'm driving. Let's go."
Not willing to fight anymore, Sam nodded in agreement and walked out to the car.
The police were still on the scene when Sam and Dean arrived.
"Agents Roberts and Trujillo," Dean barked at the officer in uniform.
"Detective Onyx is questioning the wife," the officer said after checking their badges. "The coroner hasn't picked up the body yet, he's still upstairs."
"You join the coroner," Dean ordered Sam. "I'll join Detective Onyx."
Dillian Prateek stood dumbfounded over the body. He nearly jumped when Sam entered the room and said, "Prateek."
"Sorry to see you again," Prateek responded. "I mean, that there's another one."
"This definitely the same thing?"
"Can't be sure till I get him back to the morgue, but look."
Prateek pointed to the man's eyes, wide with terror and bloodshot. "I can't rule out a possible murder yet," he said. "The other victim didn't have red eyes at all. Could be petechial hemorrhage, which would indicate suffocation."
"You mean, with a pillow?"
"Again, I can't be sure until I get him back to the morgue. There's also this," he lifted up the victim's shirt.
Welt marks covered his abdomen and chest. They had a roughly four-talon shape to them.
"Are those claw marks?" Sam asked.
"Look like. Welts like this can be made by human nails, cat scratches, whips... pretty much anything. The other victim didn't have them."
"Uh, did the other victim have a husband, boyfriend, partner, anyone else in the house the night she died?"
"I don't think so. She'd been dead a full day before she was found."
"Any chance she had these marks and they disappeared before you got to her?"
Prateek shot Sam an inquisitive look. "Agent, when the body dies, it doesn't keep healing itself, you understand that, right?"
"Right, of course. I need copies of the crime scene photos, especially of this." Sam indicated the markings on his body.
"Sure," Prateek replied glumly.
Meanwhile, Dean found himself next to a tall, medium-built Detective named Onyx.
"Agent Roberts," Dean said by way of greeting. "Can I join you?"
"Absolutely," Onyx replied. "Name's Ted Onyx."
"Hi."
"This is Mrs. Emily Goodheart," he continued. "Her husband Frederick died unexpectedly early in the morning."
Emily's face was red and blotched with tears. Used tissues crowded around her; the tissue box was nearly empty.
"I'm very sorry about your loss, Mrs. Goodheart," Dean began sympathetically.
"I've already done routine questions," Onyx said to Dean. "You want to - "
Dean cut him off, " - thank you, but this won't take long."
Detective Onyx nodded. "Compare notes later?"
"If you don't want to stay," Dean said as Emily blew her heart out into another tissue.
"I'm gonna find you some more," Onyx said kindly to her, indicating the tissue box.
"Tank yuh," she said in a stuffy voice.
When Onyx disappeared, Dean started, "What can you tell me about what happened?"
Almost immediately, he wished he'd taken the stiff and sent Sam the Sympathetic on this one.
"Wah... we went tah bed last night anhhd," she continued stuffily. "Everhy thingh was fined. But when I woke up, he... he lookhed terrifihed."
"You mean, standing up, running around, scared?"
"Noh," she said, "he wahs inh behd, lyin' thereh, eyes wide an'... he stared up andh it was like, h-he saw somethinh. Andh I could tell, he tried tah, tah sayh somethingh to me. But he couldn't speak."
"So he was just, lying in bed, looking terrified? Like he saw something?"
Emily sobbed and nodded vigorously.
"Did you see anything?"
She shook her head, no, as she wiped her nose.
"Your husband is the second person to die, Mrs. Goodheart," he began. "So I need to know, did you see anything, anything out of the ordinary?"
Her red, tear-filled eyes looked up at Dean, scared and inquisitive. "Likeh whaht?"
Pulling out the child's drawing, he showed it to her. "Like this maybe?"
"Noh," she said. "Whaht's dat?"
"One of the other victims, his kid saw this," Dean said. "I get if you don't want to sound crazy, Mrs. Goodheart. I do. That guy, he's alive, but won't tell us what happened. If he had, maybe we coulda figured out what the hell is going on and stopped it. So, please, think hard, did you see anything, anything at all like this?"
Uncertainty in her voice replaced the thick sound of her tears, "If I could helph yuh, Agent, I wud."
Dean had an inkling she was holding back, but before he could push more Onyx came back with a new box of tissues. So he tucked away the kid's Baku drawing and pulled out his business card.
"If you think of anything else," he said handing his card to her, "even if you think it's not important, call me, okay?"
She nodded quietly before sinking into another sob fest.
"Anything?" Dean asked Sam when he finally came out to the car.
Sam held up a lock of Mrs. Goodheart's hair. "Got it from her brush."
"Uh, why?"
"I think this thing might be coming for her next," Sam replied.
"Any particular reason?"
"No, just a feeling," Sam admitted, "but without a pattern, a good guess is all we have."
"Right," Dean sounded stiff. He pulled out of the driveway.
"You wanna talk about it, Dean?" Sam asked.
"About what?"
"About what's going on with you."
"So you can ignore what I say and be pissed off at me? No thanks."
With almost too much sensibility, Sam commented, "That's fair."
Dean grimaced. "What?"
"You're right. You were honest with me, and in return, I pulled a fast one on you without giving you the heads up."
"What're you saying?"
"I'm saying, you're right, Dean," Sam replied. "And I am sorry."
"Right," Dean muttered, still angry.
"But you should tell Cas."
"Really Sam? Now you're giving me relationship advice?"
"He cares," Sam stated simply. "But he and I, we didn't understand what you were saying before. What you said yesterday to me in the car, you should tell him that."
Dean didn't reply.
Lunchtime rolled around before Sam got a call from Cas.
"I found out how to bring a Baku into this world," the angel said. "And you, uh, don't need to be asleep to do it."
"You don't?" Sam asked.
"No, there's a summoning spell. And you'll need a fishing net with a Shinto blessing to capture it."
"Any blessing in particular?"
"Of course, Charlie said she would mail you the words," Cas replied. Sam assumed the angel meant e-mail, since mailing would take two days at least.
"What about the summoning spell?"
"You have a pen and paper?"
"Yeah, sure, go ahead."
As Cas rattled off instructions and a dozen ingredients to what sounded like a soup recipe, Dean pulled up his chair.
"Supply run?" he asked. Sam nodded.
"Thanks, Cas, and tell Charlie we said hello," Sam hung up.
"Okay, so one of us needs to get a fishing net and get someone to bless it... the other needs to find a place that sells real hoodoo."
"I'll take the fishing net," Dean said happily. "What's the blessing?"
"Shinto, hold on, Charlie e-mailed it to me."
Sam pulled up his e-mail. Out of habit, he opened his e-mail specifically for communications with Dodge. Dean caught a glimpse of it. Luckily, Dodge's e-mail and name were listed as "Wonder of the World."
"You got a girlfriend there, Sammy?" Dean teased.
"Wrong e-mail account, hold on," he said, quickly exiting the browser. "Charlie has my real e-mail."
Dean cottoned on to this and asked, "So now you have a fake e-mail set up?"
Sam took a breath. "For hunters we've bumped into but don't really know."
"Like who?"
"Garth's contacts," Sam said dismissively.
"Huh," Dean decided to let it go when he saw Charlie's message. He leaned over Sam to read it. "Needs to be done at dusk by a Shinto priest. You think they have any of those in Wyoming?"
"We need that and a real hoodoo store."
"All right, then, we'd better look."
As it transpires, Yellowstone National Park attracted many kinds of people. Shinto priests and real hoodoo stores were not as scarce as the brothers thought they'd be. By nightfall, they had the makings of the summoning spell and the blessed net.
"So we, what, summon him, then throw this over him?" Dean asked.
"Maybe we should set up a trap," Sam suggested.
They rigged it up in the center of their motel room after pushing the beds to opposite corners.
"All right, let's make it happen," Dean said. "What's the spell?"
"All we do is drop this in the circle we drew," Sam held up a small bottle he'd filled with the summoning ingredients.
"No magic words?"
Sam shook his head. "You ready?"
Dean held tight to the drop cord on the net and nodded.
Smash! The glass bottle hit almost the exact center of the circle.
Nothing happened. The brothers stood awkwardly waiting, but five minutes passed and nothing.
"You sure there's no magic spell?" Dean asked.
"Here Baku! Baku! Baku!" Sam called, as if calling a pet dog. "Here Baku!"
"Seriously, that's your play?"
Dean hadn't let go of the drop rope, which was a good thing, as the Baku appeared with a POP!
For some reason, Sam had expected it to be small, like the size of a large dog. Unfortunately, a better comparison would be with an elephant.
"Dean!"
Dean let go and the net fell, pinning down the oddly docile-looking beast.
"What's going on?" the Baku asked.
"Why're you killing people?" Dean asked.
The Baku turned its head, malice in its eyes. "That's why I'm here, you think I'm killing people?"
"Let's just say, you've been spotted," Sam replied.
"Of course I have, I've been..." the Baku shook its entire body. "What have you done to me?"
"Listen you douchebag," Dean started, "you're trapped in this net and not dead because we were told someone might have you on a leash, you understand? So start talking!"
The Baku roared. "I am not killing anyone, I'm protecting them! And now you've called me here, another person is dead!"
"Come again?" Sam asked.
"Baku do not kill people," the Baku flourished. "Now you've trapped me here, that thing will take another victim."
"What thing?"
"I don't know what it is," the Baku stomped its feet in frustration. "All I know is that it's terrifying, too strong for me to destroy, so it's not a nightmare."
The stomping brought Sam's eyes down to its feet. Baku, or at least this Baku, don't have talons; instead, they have heavy, elephant-like feet.
"I think it's telling the truth," Sam offered.
"She," the Baku corrected.
"Seriously?" Dean said. "You're willing to believe the giant monster on this one?"
"Not all monsters are evil," she grunted. "And my name is Ahanah. And I am telling you the truth. Please, let me go so I can try to save that poor woman. If I'm not already too late."
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Part Four: Peace of Mind
Primary Post: 09x05 Sleeping Village
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Sleeping Village
Subtitle: Red Sun Rising
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word Count: 2,651
Rating: R
Warnings: language, violence, terror
Status: Complete. Feedback appreciated.
Sam whipped up the concoction needed for the Dream Root tea with little trouble. "We still need hair," he reminded Dean.
"Well, till we know more about how this dude strikes, we won't be able to," Dean remarked. "Look, I'm calling it, okay?"
"Right, okay," Sam said.
Dean used the bathroom and crawled into bed.
Sam disappeared into the bathroom, looking for Dean's comb. Feeling like a total creeper, he took some of his brother's hair. Maybe they couldn't grab Baku-gone-ganker tonight, but he could investigate Dean's nightmares.
Ever since it occurred to him that the Bunker protected Dean from whatever sent him nightmares, it kept nagging him. If someone, or something, was giving Dean nightmares, then there must be a reason, and probably not for the benefit of his health. Dean's suspicious, that the angels were doing it to track down Castiel, didn't make a lot of sense to Sam.
So, after stealing his brother's hair, Sam planned on breaking into his dreams. Creepy, yes. Likely to piss him off? Definitely. Necessary? Without Cas here to drop in on Dean's dreams, absolutely.
Resolve in his mind, Sam mixed a part of the tea, careful only to use a portion of it so as to have enough for the case. Then he, too, fell asleep.
Dean cooked in the kitchen of the bunker, flipping pancakes. He had an apron and boxers on, because, well, why the hell not?
Next came eggs, bacon, and pie. Three different kinds of pie.
"Cas, Sam, breakfast!" Dean yelled, a paternal ring in his voice.
Sam walked in, his hair messy and his eyes tired. "Thanks, Dean."
"Cas?" Dean called again.
The angel stumbled in. At first Sam thought Cas was sleepy, but then he remembered that angels don't sleep. And that's when he saw the blood dripping from his back.
"R-ru-run!" Cas managed to yell. "Go!"
"No, Cas!" The panic in Dean's voice made Sam's stomach drop. "Cas!" He cradled the angel in his arms, bleeding on the kitchen floor. "You'll be find, you'll heal," Dean comforted him.
"No, he won't," Crowley's voice was soft. He appeared across the table from Sam. "Hello boys."
"Crowley!" Sam yelled. "You're dead!"
"Sorry, no, as you can see, I'm very much alive," he pulled out an angel blade. "And I'm here collecting good on some old dues."
Crowley made to stab Sam, who easily side-stepped the attack and struggled with him, grabbing for the angel blade. Dean didn't move from the kitchen floor. The room lit up white hot, then it all stopped. Cas's body lay across Dean's lap, his winds spread out and burned across the room and even Dean himself.
"Cas," Dean whispered weakly.
Crowley, or Dream-Crowley, fought dirty. He poked Sam in the eye and stabbed him in the arm. With a bit of luck, Sam pushed the demon away and kept hold of the angel blade. With a single, quick, brutal movement, Sam stabbed through Crowley's neck.
Dean didn't move from the floor.
"Dean," Sam said. "This is just a dream, Cas is home and he's fine."
"What?"
"You're dreaming, having a nightmare," Sam repeated.
Before Dean could respond, a voice filled the room. "This is what they have planned, Dean, you understand? You hear me? You need to hear me, brother. You need to know. Please, Dean."
The voice repeated these words with its long drawl growing each time. But no one appeared.
"A dream?" Dean asked, ready to believe it. He'd heard that voice before. "Then how the hell are you here?"
Sam looked away from his brother. "Dream Tea."
"Seriously, Sammy?"
"Yell at me in the real world, Dean, okay? Wake up."
They both snapped awake.
"What the hell, Sam?" Dean roared. "Seriously? You dream-jacked me?"
He got up and started pacing, "Haven't we had conversations about personal-fucking-space?"
"Dean, your nightmares, someone or something is doing this to you," Sam said. "I took the potion to make sure Evil Snuffleupagus didn't hammer it in, okay?"
"And you didn't think mentioning that or asking was something you should do?"
Sam looked away. "That voice sounded familiar."
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm telling you, whatever's happening to you, it's a case," Sam said. "Which means your personal space is irrelevant because saving your life is more important."
"Damnit, Sam," Dean griped. "I can't - I can't do this, okay?"
"Okay, fine, let's put a pin in it for now."
"A pin?"
"Yeah."
"What're you, a fifty-year-old-woman?"
"Shut up."
Sam woke up to Dean's prodding.
"What?"
"There was another one," Dean said. "Last night. Crime scene is still fresh. Com'on."
After his morning cleanup routine, Sam grabbed the keys. His brother promptly swatted them out of his hands.
"You agreed to let me drive half the time," Sam argued.
"I did, then you dream-jacked me, you asshole," Dean snarled. "So I'm driving. Let's go."
Not willing to fight anymore, Sam nodded in agreement and walked out to the car.
The police were still on the scene when Sam and Dean arrived.
"Agents Roberts and Trujillo," Dean barked at the officer in uniform.
"Detective Onyx is questioning the wife," the officer said after checking their badges. "The coroner hasn't picked up the body yet, he's still upstairs."
"You join the coroner," Dean ordered Sam. "I'll join Detective Onyx."
Dillian Prateek stood dumbfounded over the body. He nearly jumped when Sam entered the room and said, "Prateek."
"Sorry to see you again," Prateek responded. "I mean, that there's another one."
"This definitely the same thing?"
"Can't be sure till I get him back to the morgue, but look."
Prateek pointed to the man's eyes, wide with terror and bloodshot. "I can't rule out a possible murder yet," he said. "The other victim didn't have red eyes at all. Could be petechial hemorrhage, which would indicate suffocation."
"You mean, with a pillow?"
"Again, I can't be sure until I get him back to the morgue. There's also this," he lifted up the victim's shirt.
Welt marks covered his abdomen and chest. They had a roughly four-talon shape to them.
"Are those claw marks?" Sam asked.
"Look like. Welts like this can be made by human nails, cat scratches, whips... pretty much anything. The other victim didn't have them."
"Uh, did the other victim have a husband, boyfriend, partner, anyone else in the house the night she died?"
"I don't think so. She'd been dead a full day before she was found."
"Any chance she had these marks and they disappeared before you got to her?"
Prateek shot Sam an inquisitive look. "Agent, when the body dies, it doesn't keep healing itself, you understand that, right?"
"Right, of course. I need copies of the crime scene photos, especially of this." Sam indicated the markings on his body.
"Sure," Prateek replied glumly.
Meanwhile, Dean found himself next to a tall, medium-built Detective named Onyx.
"Agent Roberts," Dean said by way of greeting. "Can I join you?"
"Absolutely," Onyx replied. "Name's Ted Onyx."
"Hi."
"This is Mrs. Emily Goodheart," he continued. "Her husband Frederick died unexpectedly early in the morning."
Emily's face was red and blotched with tears. Used tissues crowded around her; the tissue box was nearly empty.
"I'm very sorry about your loss, Mrs. Goodheart," Dean began sympathetically.
"I've already done routine questions," Onyx said to Dean. "You want to - "
Dean cut him off, " - thank you, but this won't take long."
Detective Onyx nodded. "Compare notes later?"
"If you don't want to stay," Dean said as Emily blew her heart out into another tissue.
"I'm gonna find you some more," Onyx said kindly to her, indicating the tissue box.
"Tank yuh," she said in a stuffy voice.
When Onyx disappeared, Dean started, "What can you tell me about what happened?"
Almost immediately, he wished he'd taken the stiff and sent Sam the Sympathetic on this one.
"Wah... we went tah bed last night anhhd," she continued stuffily. "Everhy thingh was fined. But when I woke up, he... he lookhed terrifihed."
"You mean, standing up, running around, scared?"
"Noh," she said, "he wahs inh behd, lyin' thereh, eyes wide an'... he stared up andh it was like, h-he saw somethinh. Andh I could tell, he tried tah, tah sayh somethingh to me. But he couldn't speak."
"So he was just, lying in bed, looking terrified? Like he saw something?"
Emily sobbed and nodded vigorously.
"Did you see anything?"
She shook her head, no, as she wiped her nose.
"Your husband is the second person to die, Mrs. Goodheart," he began. "So I need to know, did you see anything, anything out of the ordinary?"
Her red, tear-filled eyes looked up at Dean, scared and inquisitive. "Likeh whaht?"
Pulling out the child's drawing, he showed it to her. "Like this maybe?"
"Noh," she said. "Whaht's dat?"
"One of the other victims, his kid saw this," Dean said. "I get if you don't want to sound crazy, Mrs. Goodheart. I do. That guy, he's alive, but won't tell us what happened. If he had, maybe we coulda figured out what the hell is going on and stopped it. So, please, think hard, did you see anything, anything at all like this?"
Uncertainty in her voice replaced the thick sound of her tears, "If I could helph yuh, Agent, I wud."
Dean had an inkling she was holding back, but before he could push more Onyx came back with a new box of tissues. So he tucked away the kid's Baku drawing and pulled out his business card.
"If you think of anything else," he said handing his card to her, "even if you think it's not important, call me, okay?"
She nodded quietly before sinking into another sob fest.
"Anything?" Dean asked Sam when he finally came out to the car.
Sam held up a lock of Mrs. Goodheart's hair. "Got it from her brush."
"Uh, why?"
"I think this thing might be coming for her next," Sam replied.
"Any particular reason?"
"No, just a feeling," Sam admitted, "but without a pattern, a good guess is all we have."
"Right," Dean sounded stiff. He pulled out of the driveway.
"You wanna talk about it, Dean?" Sam asked.
"About what?"
"About what's going on with you."
"So you can ignore what I say and be pissed off at me? No thanks."
With almost too much sensibility, Sam commented, "That's fair."
Dean grimaced. "What?"
"You're right. You were honest with me, and in return, I pulled a fast one on you without giving you the heads up."
"What're you saying?"
"I'm saying, you're right, Dean," Sam replied. "And I am sorry."
"Right," Dean muttered, still angry.
"But you should tell Cas."
"Really Sam? Now you're giving me relationship advice?"
"He cares," Sam stated simply. "But he and I, we didn't understand what you were saying before. What you said yesterday to me in the car, you should tell him that."
Dean didn't reply.
Lunchtime rolled around before Sam got a call from Cas.
"I found out how to bring a Baku into this world," the angel said. "And you, uh, don't need to be asleep to do it."
"You don't?" Sam asked.
"No, there's a summoning spell. And you'll need a fishing net with a Shinto blessing to capture it."
"Any blessing in particular?"
"Of course, Charlie said she would mail you the words," Cas replied. Sam assumed the angel meant e-mail, since mailing would take two days at least.
"What about the summoning spell?"
"You have a pen and paper?"
"Yeah, sure, go ahead."
As Cas rattled off instructions and a dozen ingredients to what sounded like a soup recipe, Dean pulled up his chair.
"Supply run?" he asked. Sam nodded.
"Thanks, Cas, and tell Charlie we said hello," Sam hung up.
"Okay, so one of us needs to get a fishing net and get someone to bless it... the other needs to find a place that sells real hoodoo."
"I'll take the fishing net," Dean said happily. "What's the blessing?"
"Shinto, hold on, Charlie e-mailed it to me."
Sam pulled up his e-mail. Out of habit, he opened his e-mail specifically for communications with Dodge. Dean caught a glimpse of it. Luckily, Dodge's e-mail and name were listed as "Wonder of the World."
"You got a girlfriend there, Sammy?" Dean teased.
"Wrong e-mail account, hold on," he said, quickly exiting the browser. "Charlie has my real e-mail."
Dean cottoned on to this and asked, "So now you have a fake e-mail set up?"
Sam took a breath. "For hunters we've bumped into but don't really know."
"Like who?"
"Garth's contacts," Sam said dismissively.
"Huh," Dean decided to let it go when he saw Charlie's message. He leaned over Sam to read it. "Needs to be done at dusk by a Shinto priest. You think they have any of those in Wyoming?"
"We need that and a real hoodoo store."
"All right, then, we'd better look."
As it transpires, Yellowstone National Park attracted many kinds of people. Shinto priests and real hoodoo stores were not as scarce as the brothers thought they'd be. By nightfall, they had the makings of the summoning spell and the blessed net.
"So we, what, summon him, then throw this over him?" Dean asked.
"Maybe we should set up a trap," Sam suggested.
They rigged it up in the center of their motel room after pushing the beds to opposite corners.
"All right, let's make it happen," Dean said. "What's the spell?"
"All we do is drop this in the circle we drew," Sam held up a small bottle he'd filled with the summoning ingredients.
"No magic words?"
Sam shook his head. "You ready?"
Dean held tight to the drop cord on the net and nodded.
Smash! The glass bottle hit almost the exact center of the circle.
Nothing happened. The brothers stood awkwardly waiting, but five minutes passed and nothing.
"You sure there's no magic spell?" Dean asked.
"Here Baku! Baku! Baku!" Sam called, as if calling a pet dog. "Here Baku!"
"Seriously, that's your play?"
Dean hadn't let go of the drop rope, which was a good thing, as the Baku appeared with a POP!
For some reason, Sam had expected it to be small, like the size of a large dog. Unfortunately, a better comparison would be with an elephant.
"Dean!"
Dean let go and the net fell, pinning down the oddly docile-looking beast.
"What's going on?" the Baku asked.
"Why're you killing people?" Dean asked.
The Baku turned its head, malice in its eyes. "That's why I'm here, you think I'm killing people?"
"Let's just say, you've been spotted," Sam replied.
"Of course I have, I've been..." the Baku shook its entire body. "What have you done to me?"
"Listen you douchebag," Dean started, "you're trapped in this net and not dead because we were told someone might have you on a leash, you understand? So start talking!"
The Baku roared. "I am not killing anyone, I'm protecting them! And now you've called me here, another person is dead!"
"Come again?" Sam asked.
"Baku do not kill people," the Baku flourished. "Now you've trapped me here, that thing will take another victim."
"What thing?"
"I don't know what it is," the Baku stomped its feet in frustration. "All I know is that it's terrifying, too strong for me to destroy, so it's not a nightmare."
The stomping brought Sam's eyes down to its feet. Baku, or at least this Baku, don't have talons; instead, they have heavy, elephant-like feet.
"I think it's telling the truth," Sam offered.
"She," the Baku corrected.
"Seriously?" Dean said. "You're willing to believe the giant monster on this one?"
"Not all monsters are evil," she grunted. "And my name is Ahanah. And I am telling you the truth. Please, let me go so I can try to save that poor woman. If I'm not already too late."
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Part Four: Peace of Mind
Primary Post: 09x05 Sleeping Village
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)