The Family Business [Supernatural] {1}

11.3 Doing It Wrong

  After a while, Dean and I decided it was time to go back to Burkitsville. We get right in time to the orchard to see the couple's car was there, broken. "We need to go find them," Dean said as he turned off the engines and we quickly climbed out. He opened the trunk and we grabbed our guns and ran to the orchard.

I spotted two figures running away, with the scarecrow behind them. "Dean!" I whispered and we both rushed towards them. We stood in front of the couple, "Get back to your car," Dean ordered.

The man glanced behind them and saw the scarecrow getting closer. "Go! Go!" I said and the couple ran passed us. Dean and I both shoot the scarecrow, which stumbled but keep walking.

We started running behind the couple, cocking the guns again, and shooting. Again, the scarecrow kept going. Dean tried one more time, but the scarecrow kept moving so we kept running. "Go! Go!"

We all reached the clearing and then turned around as Dean and I cocks the guns and looked around, but the scarecrow disappeared. "What -- what the hell was that?" The man asked, panting. "Don't ask," Dean and I said at the same time.

...................................

After Dean and I helped with the couple with their car, they thanked us and drive away and me and my brother were in the Impala. I called Sam and we told him what happened, "The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun Town," I joked and Dean smirked. "It didn't kill the couple, did it?" Sam asked. "No. We can't cope without you, you know," Dean said.

"So, something must be animating it. A spirit," Sam said. "No, it's more than a spirit. It's a god," I said. "A Pagan god, anyway," Dean added. "What makes you say that?" Sam asked.

"The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals," Dean said. "The way they treated this couple. Fattenin' 'em up like a Christmas turkey," I said and he nodded.

"The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims," Sam said. "Yeah, I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god," Dean said. "So, a god possesses the scarecrow . . ." Sam said.

"And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice," I said. "And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and disease won't spread," Dean said. "Do you know which god you're dealing with?" Sam asked. "No, not yet," I admitted.

"Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it," Sam encouraged. "We know. We actually on our way to a local community college. We've got an appointment with a professor. You know, since Scar and I don't have our trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research with her," Dean said. I gave him a small glare while Sam gave a small laugh and Dean sent me a smirk.

"You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask," Sam said. "I'm not hinting anything. Actually, uh -- I want you to know . . . I mean, don't think . . ." Dean started. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too," Sam said.

Dean and I exchanged glances before he sighed and looked back at the road, "Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked. "You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I -- anyway . . . I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy," Dean said. "Me too," I said sadly.

"I don't even know what to say," Sam said. "Say you'll take care of yourself, big bro," I said. "I will," He promised. "Call us when you find Dad," Dean said. "OK. Bye, guys," Sam said, his voice was sad. But I was sad too and so did Dean. I hung up the phone and sighed sadly.

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Dean and I got to the Community College and we walked down a staircase with the college professor. "It's not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology," The Professor said. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby," Dean said.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" The Professor asked and Dean nodded. "I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its Pagan worship," The Professor said.

"What if it was imported?" I asked. "Yeah, you know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?" Dean asked. "Well, yeah," The Professor agreed as we walked down the hallway.

"Like that town near here, Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?" Dean asked. "Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia," The Professor replied. "What could you tell us about those Pagan gods?" I asked. "Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses," The Professor chuckled. "We're actually looking for one," Dean said. "Might live in an orchard."

We went to a classroom and the Professor pulled out a large book and placed it down on a table. He put on his glasses and opened the book, "Woods god, hm? Well, let's see." He leafed through some pages. But then on one page, I noticed a picture of a scarecrow on a post surrounded by farmers in a field, "Wait, wait, wait. What's that one?"

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per se," The Professor said. "The V-Vanir?" Dean read. The Professor nodded and Dean continued, "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female." He pointed to the picture, "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

"Yep," I agreed. "I suppose," The Professor said. "This particular Vanir that's energy sprung from the sacred tree?" I read. "Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic," The Professor explained. "So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?" Dean asked.

The Professor laughed. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing," He said. "Oh, of course. Yeah, you're right," Dean said and I nodded in agreement. "Listen, thank you very much," Dean said. "Yeah, thank you," I said as Dean and The Professor shook hands and then he shook mine, "Glad I could help."

Dean and I walked to the door and Dean opened it. Then I got hit and I fall to the floor as everything went black.

...................

I groaned as I felt pain at my side of my head. I placed my hand on the side and opened my eyes slowly. It was a little dark. Where am I? Where is Dean?

I heard a moaning to my left and I turned around. "Dean?" I asked. "Scar?" He asked and I could see him. He got up and quickly rushed over to me. He kneeled down to my side, "You okay?" He asked.

I nodded and he sighed in relief and got up, pulling me with him. I looked around, "Are we in a cellar?" I asked. "Looks like it," He replied.

Suddenly, the cellar door opened and Emily was there with Stacy, Harley and the sheriff. Emily was crying, holding by her Uncle, "Aunt Stacy. Uncle Harley, please," She begged. Harley brought her down the stairs and placed her next to us. He glanced at both of us. His eyes were sad, it was like he didn't want to do it. No of it.

He walked back upstairs. "Why are you doing this?" Emily asked. "For the common good," Stacy answered and with that she shut the cellar door, leaving all three of us alone.