Twelve Days 4/12
Title: Twelve Days
Authors: princess_schez & mlebayre
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone’s been reenacting a beloved holiday song, but with a very dark twist.
Authors Notes: Set during S2. Banner by princess_schez
“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four calling birds…”
Sam couldn’t tell if the victim was male or female, just that they had tar dumped on them and had black feathers stuck to them. Lying next to them were the remains of four black birds.
“I can think of better ways to go,” Dean commented.
“We all can, and I’m pretty sure this person could have too.”
“What is with this freak and birds?”
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. If his suspicions were right, then things weren’t looking good for the next victim.
“Dean, I think I know what’s going on.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
Sam continued. “The first person we found was hanging in a pear tree with a partridge. The second involved two doves. Third, three hens at Holdson farms. Four,” he indicated the four birds next to him and the tarred and feathered victim.
“So you think -”
“I think Father Gregory is reenacting the Twelve Days of Christmas, but instead of gifts, he’s killing people instead. And if we don’t stop this, the next person is gonna suffer death by five golden rings.”
“And again, Christmas carols kill.”
-0-
They drove back into town undetected. By then, most of the media had left, only a few remained.
“You know what is bugging me about the school? How would a kid hide a dagger very well and stay in school. Zero tolerance and all that. Maybe it’s at home or hidden somewhere else,” Dean said as he drove.
“We have to find said kid first,” Sam reminded him.
Two girls on a bench, watching things caught Sam’s attention. He nudged Dean’s shoulder and nodded out the front window of the Impala.
“I see them. I’ve seen them a few times but it’s a small town and I’ve recognized a few people,” Dean said. “Cheerful outfits.”
Sam had to agree. They weren’t exactly what he’d call goth, and he and Dean had come to realize those kids weren’t really the ones who dabbled in things they had to stop. For those kids it was more self-expression.
Of the two girls, they could tell, even from this distance, that one girl was slumped in her seat, head in her hands.
They left the car, walking slowly, stopping to talk for a few minutes before moving on. All the while they worked their way into position to get close enough to the two girls to hear their conversation.
One girl was talking, the venom in her voice made Sam cringe. A side glance at Dean was all he needed to see the horror on his brother’s face. Sam stopped when he felt Dean’s hand lightly slide down his forearm until he closed his fingers around Sam’s wrist.
“It’s their fault my Dad is dead. All my Mom does is take pills and drink.” The girl was maybe sixteen.
“Do you want to stay at my house tonight? My folks said you could. Or even live with us if you want to.”
“No. Not tonight. If the bitch chokes on her own vomit I want to be around,” the first girl said. “They’ll all pay.”
Sam felt a chill when she grabbed a chain around her neck, pulled it out of her shirt, running the object on the chain back and forth a few times.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled. “I have to admit I didn’t see that one coming.”
What the girl had around her neck was the athame. It was small, the size of a cross, but this was no cross. It was a decorative gold and silver amulet in the shape of a ceremonial dagger. She couldn’t stab a mouse to death with it, and Sam doubted it even had any sharp edges or points.
“That’s how she got it into school,” Sam said.
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for a real sized blade,” Dean said.
“It’s easy to forget an athame can be any size, even jewelry, as long as it’s blessed and the owner believes in its power.”
“The last person who needs something like that is a teenage girl with a grudge,” Dean pointed out.
“So, how do we get it from her without getting our asses tossed in jail?”
Dean opened his mouth and shut it again, shaking his head. “Let’s figure out who she is.”
Once back at their motel, Sam started going through what he found online about the local high school. He hadn’t spent more than a few minutes when Dean bolted off the other bed and turned up the TV.
“Cathy Willard was found dead in her home by her daughter, Devon, earlier tonight. It is believed she died of an apparent overdose. She was the widow of recently deceased Jackson Willard, the stock broker under investigation for insider trading and fraud,” the woman reporting the news said.
“Sammy?”
“On it.” It didn’t take Sam long to find all sorts of articles and photos. “It’s the same girl. Here’s a picture of her with her parents when the father was arrested.”
“Sam, look.”
Sam looked over the laptop screen at the TV. There were shots of a woman being removed on a stretcher. Beyond that was the house, and front steps. Lying on the steps were five rings strung together, Sam was willing to bet they were gold.
“Willard managed the money for a lot of stock investors in this town. They were ruined when he was caught. There were rumors his wife was having affairs, one with a judge. She was the one who turned Willard in,” Sam said.
“We have to find him.” Dean was up and moving, checking the load on his handgun and grabbing his jacket. “You keep digging.”
“Call me every fifteen,” Sam called after Dean as he left. “Don’t die.”
Authors: princess_schez & mlebayre
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone’s been reenacting a beloved holiday song, but with a very dark twist.
Authors Notes: Set during S2. Banner by princess_schez
“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four calling birds…”
Sam couldn’t tell if the victim was male or female, just that they had tar dumped on them and had black feathers stuck to them. Lying next to them were the remains of four black birds.
“I can think of better ways to go,” Dean commented.
“We all can, and I’m pretty sure this person could have too.”
“What is with this freak and birds?”
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. If his suspicions were right, then things weren’t looking good for the next victim.
“Dean, I think I know what’s going on.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
Sam continued. “The first person we found was hanging in a pear tree with a partridge. The second involved two doves. Third, three hens at Holdson farms. Four,” he indicated the four birds next to him and the tarred and feathered victim.
“So you think -”
“I think Father Gregory is reenacting the Twelve Days of Christmas, but instead of gifts, he’s killing people instead. And if we don’t stop this, the next person is gonna suffer death by five golden rings.”
“And again, Christmas carols kill.”
-0-
They drove back into town undetected. By then, most of the media had left, only a few remained.
“You know what is bugging me about the school? How would a kid hide a dagger very well and stay in school. Zero tolerance and all that. Maybe it’s at home or hidden somewhere else,” Dean said as he drove.
“We have to find said kid first,” Sam reminded him.
Two girls on a bench, watching things caught Sam’s attention. He nudged Dean’s shoulder and nodded out the front window of the Impala.
“I see them. I’ve seen them a few times but it’s a small town and I’ve recognized a few people,” Dean said. “Cheerful outfits.”
Sam had to agree. They weren’t exactly what he’d call goth, and he and Dean had come to realize those kids weren’t really the ones who dabbled in things they had to stop. For those kids it was more self-expression.
Of the two girls, they could tell, even from this distance, that one girl was slumped in her seat, head in her hands.
They left the car, walking slowly, stopping to talk for a few minutes before moving on. All the while they worked their way into position to get close enough to the two girls to hear their conversation.
One girl was talking, the venom in her voice made Sam cringe. A side glance at Dean was all he needed to see the horror on his brother’s face. Sam stopped when he felt Dean’s hand lightly slide down his forearm until he closed his fingers around Sam’s wrist.
“It’s their fault my Dad is dead. All my Mom does is take pills and drink.” The girl was maybe sixteen.
“Do you want to stay at my house tonight? My folks said you could. Or even live with us if you want to.”
“No. Not tonight. If the bitch chokes on her own vomit I want to be around,” the first girl said. “They’ll all pay.”
Sam felt a chill when she grabbed a chain around her neck, pulled it out of her shirt, running the object on the chain back and forth a few times.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled. “I have to admit I didn’t see that one coming.”
What the girl had around her neck was the athame. It was small, the size of a cross, but this was no cross. It was a decorative gold and silver amulet in the shape of a ceremonial dagger. She couldn’t stab a mouse to death with it, and Sam doubted it even had any sharp edges or points.
“That’s how she got it into school,” Sam said.
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for a real sized blade,” Dean said.
“It’s easy to forget an athame can be any size, even jewelry, as long as it’s blessed and the owner believes in its power.”
“The last person who needs something like that is a teenage girl with a grudge,” Dean pointed out.
“So, how do we get it from her without getting our asses tossed in jail?”
Dean opened his mouth and shut it again, shaking his head. “Let’s figure out who she is.”
Once back at their motel, Sam started going through what he found online about the local high school. He hadn’t spent more than a few minutes when Dean bolted off the other bed and turned up the TV.
“Cathy Willard was found dead in her home by her daughter, Devon, earlier tonight. It is believed she died of an apparent overdose. She was the widow of recently deceased Jackson Willard, the stock broker under investigation for insider trading and fraud,” the woman reporting the news said.
“Sammy?”
“On it.” It didn’t take Sam long to find all sorts of articles and photos. “It’s the same girl. Here’s a picture of her with her parents when the father was arrested.”
“Sam, look.”
Sam looked over the laptop screen at the TV. There were shots of a woman being removed on a stretcher. Beyond that was the house, and front steps. Lying on the steps were five rings strung together, Sam was willing to bet they were gold.
“Willard managed the money for a lot of stock investors in this town. They were ruined when he was caught. There were rumors his wife was having affairs, one with a judge. She was the one who turned Willard in,” Sam said.
“We have to find him.” Dean was up and moving, checking the load on his handgun and grabbing his jacket. “You keep digging.”
“Call me every fifteen,” Sam called after Dean as he left. “Don’t die.”