Dogtown
By Tidia & MOG, September 2006
SnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsN
Chapter 5/10
The ride back to the motel was silent. Sam cradled his arm and chose to
wait until they were in calmer surroundings before discussing what had
transpired in the woods.
“Let me see that,” Dean said, once he shut the door to their room. Sam
stripped off his torn flannel shirt, but Dean didn’t give him a chance
to volunteer the wounded arm. Reaching out, he placed his hand over the
broken skin.
“How do you do it?” asked Sam.
“Hell if I know,” Dean answered. “This is pretty much all I did at
Beets’ place and at the hotel back in Millerton. Figured I’d just try
the same thing.”
In a moment, the cuts were gone. Dean’s eyes closed and he hissed when
the surface layers of skin on his arm split, as if the slices ruptured
from below. Sam winced at the unnaturalness of it, and as blood rose to
the surface of the cuts, he crossed to the bathroom to get his brother
a wet washcloth.
He returned to see Dean wholly absorbed in watching his body deal with
the deep scratches. Sam held the washcloth out, but when Dean didn’t
take it he pushed it gently into his brother’s hand. His initial anger
had subsided during the drive back, but Sam was still determined to get
all of his questions answered before they made another move.
He folded his arms across his chest and studied his brother. “So, who’s
Emily Carver?’
Dean didn’t look up; instead he touched one of the gashes on his arm as
it was shrinking. He studied the blood on the tips of his first two
fingers, rubbing it slowly with his thumb until it darkened the swirls
of his fingerprints. He spoke in a low voice, not lifting his gaze from
the red smears. “What did you say once, Sammy - there are some things I
need to keep to myself.”
Sam unconsciously took a half-step back, in reaction to the
disconcerting behavior. “Dean...”
The older Winchester finally leveled a gaze at his brother. “If I tell
you Sam, and you want to leave…run, don’t walk.”
Sam pulled out the desk chair and sat down. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Dean exhaled a soft breath and turned away from his brother. He looked
out the sliding glass door to the ocean across the street. The grey sea
swirled with white caps, mirroring his feelings.
“Caleb asked Dad for some help - so we came.” Dean recalled the dingy
cabin that Caleb had holed up in. “It was about a year after you left.”
It was funny to Dean how, in his mind, things were broken into
timelines consisting of ‘before Sam left’ and ‘after Sam left’. The
current way he thought of milestones was by way of ‘now that Sam
returned’.
“You know how Caleb has connections to some cults? Always saying that
there is something that’s true in each of them - you just have to find
it. Well, one of his friends called him about a girl they said was
possessed….”
Dean thought back to the last time he was in Gloucester.
Caleb leaned in the doorway of the
rented cabin’s bathroom and rubbed a hand over his bald head. Dean
recognized it at the ammunitions expert’s nervous twitch. Dean took
another swig of beer and listened, waiting for Caleb to tell him and
his father the story of why backup was needed.
“So there’s a guy I know, belongs to
a local group-”
“Cult?” John offered, it was
definitely more of a statement than a question. He’d done some homework
between the time Caleb called them and when they’d arrived.
Caleb nodded, somewhat sheepishly.
“Cult,” he agreed. “Headed by the Reverend Leroy Ridgeway. Anyway, my
friend tells me that this girl, Emily, was caught by her husband with
some rune stones.”
Dean shifted in his chair. Things
already didn’t feel right.
John pushed passed his friend’s
apprehension, getting to the point. “Rune stones,” he repeated flatly.
“That’s why you told me to prep for an exorcism?”
Dean’s surprise was evident. “They
asked you to do an exorcism?”
Caleb swallowed and again rubbed his
head. “Not at first…” He looked down at his hands. “I made it worse.
Brian, the guy I know, introduced me to Emily and she and I talked for
a little while. I mean, I wanted to find out if there was even a chance
that they could be right about a possession.”
“And?” Dean prompted.
“Not a chance. But I did some
research after we talked, after she told me about herself and her
history. She’s a descendent of Tammy Younger…” Caleb noticed that
neither hunter recognized the name. “Famous witch in these parts, they
actually called her Queen of the Witches.”
John interrupted. “And you told them
this?”
“I thought I was helping,” answered
Caleb. “I explained that there was nothing abnormal about her using the
stones. It was part of her heritage, what she’d grown up with - she
wasn’t possessed.”
“And what did they say to that?” Dean
asked, as he absently peeled the label off the Budweiser bottle.
“They stopped listening when they
heard the word witch...and started talking about beating the devil out
of her.” Caleb dropped into one of the avocado green, vinyl-covered
kitchen chairs.
Dean looked at his father and then
back at Caleb. “And you’re friendly with these cult people? Jesus,
Caleb, you need to find yourself another set of friends...ones with
lower religious morals.”
“So you’ll help?” Caleb’s tone
indicated his growing impatience. He rubbed the sweat off his brow with
his sleeve.
Dean looked up, waiting for his
father to reply in the negative. That wasn’t the answer he heard.
“She’s not possessed,” John stated.
“Why are we here?”
“Jesus, John, I’m in over my head
here. The Children of the Messiah have 100 brave and strong zealots who
believe an eighteen-year-old girl has the Devil inside her. I figured
between the three of us, we could do a fake exorcism and get her out.”
Caleb’s cell phone chirped, demanding
his attention, and he stepped out on the deck to take the call.
Dean stood up and put on his jacket.
“If we hit the road now, we can make it to New York in four hours.”
John didn’t move, prompting Dean to stare at him warily. “You’re not
seriously considering this?”
In matters of the hunt, Dean knew
John Winchester trusted his friends more than he trusted his sons.
Those people had mentored him. But his dad, above all others, had to
see the high risk involved with Caleb’s plan. Dean’s first instinct was
to leave, and if he’d learned anything from the hunt it was always go
with your first instinct.
“With all due respect,” said Dean,
“ignoring the fact that we’d be no better than a bunch of tent show
faith healer con men - exorcisms are a dangerous business. You taught
me that.”
“We’re getting her out.” John crossed
his arms with resolve.
Dean wanted to grab his father and
shake some sense into him. He couldn’t help but feel the plan had doom
written all over it. “Fine, I agree, we’ll get her out - sounds like
she’d be better off away from that pack of Froot Loops anyway. But why
don’t we just bust in, get her, and get the hell out?”
“And then what, Dean – adopt her into
the family? Besides, you heard the numbers Caleb gave. One hundred to
three are lousy odds. We don’t need any more enemies.” John gave his
son a look that clearly indicated the conversation was over. The
patriarch of the family had made the decision that they would go with,
as always.
Caleb returned to the room and seemed
relieved when John nodded. However, Dean’s tightly crossed arms
indicated the younger man’s displeasure with the situation.
“You don’t have to do anything,”
Caleb said. “Just stand witness and be there just in case, and we all
should get out of this no problem.”
Dean shook his head, but gave an
acquiescing look. He understood how to stand witness. He had done it
his whole life - witnessed his father’s grief and obsession, witnessed
Sam’s life - first tooth, first steps, first date. Dean wondered if
anyone knew his milestones.
A small voice in the back of his head
told him he should have enough strength of character to insist on his
course of action, to challenge his father a little more. Instead, he
fell back into line and followed orders.
Clearing his throat, Dean paused for a moment, feeling all the emotions
and images flood back. He stared out the sliding glass door, unable to
face his brother.
“The first time dad and I saw her she was strapped to a goddamned
table, courtesy of her ‘people’. She was eighteen years old…scared to
death.” A dry laugh escaped his lips. “At one point, she’d even begged
me to kill her, but I…I just told her everything would be fine.”
He realized how cocky he’d been in the belief that they could pull off
the sham exorcism, and from there perhaps help Emily get away from the
cult. He had wanted to whisk her away, to a place far from her family,
far from the people who so vehemently believed that she was consumed by
evil.
“So what happened?” asked Sam gently.
Dean looked at his brother. “Like the saying goes – to hell in a
handbasket. She stopped breathing after the last incantation. We all
saw her body lift a good two inches off the table before she passed
out.”
“Wait, I don’t get it…why the reaction? I mean, I thought she wasn’t
possessed?”
“Jesus, she was scared out of her mind,” Dean rubbed his forehead. “You
know as well as I do extreme emotions act as a vacuum. Caleb thought
the incantation opened her up to something…” Dean looked back out to
the water. “He just froze when she collapsed.”
John pushed past Caleb and put an ear
close to Emily’s mouth, watching for chest movement as he pressed two
fingers against her carotid artery. “Nothing. Dean!”
His son knew what was expected. As
John puffed air into the young girl’s lungs, Dean began the rhythmic
series of chest compressions.
The crowd that packed the small room
watched in horror and fascination. The Reverend Ridgeway had warned
them. Now they were bearing witness to the results of following the
path of disobedience. He stood at the foot of the table and raised his
hands, addressing the group.
“If Sister Emily returns to us, then
we shall know the Messiah forgave her transgressions and freed her from
the control of the demon.”
Wailing voices from the reverend’s
followers filled Dean’s head and he tried to shut out the surrealism of
the moment by counting louder as he pressed on the young girl’s chest.
“Two rounds later she came back.” Dean swallowed, trying to combat the
sudden dryness in his mouth. Caleb’s recent call brought back all the
self-doubt he’d felt from that time. He’d made a costly mistake - one
that he always believed had affected his soul.
“I just wanted to get her the hell out of there.” He shook his head and
laughed acerbically. “But, I was a good little soldier and followed
orders.”
“Dean,” Sam winced. He recognized the words he used towards his brother
in the asylum back in Rockford. He had never meant to vocalize those
childish thoughts. He hadn’t been in control, and he had always hoped
that Dean knew that. His brother’s statement proved at least Dean
believed it. This time, however, Sam was in control and he did mean
what he was saying. “She’s alive…because of you.”
Dean shook his head, negating the idea that he’d done anything right.
“Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be. We brought her back but…she wasn’t
the same.” He closed his eyes as he remembered her frantic screams.
She whimpered at first. “Help me…help me.”
Dean reassured Emily with words as he
and John worked at cutting through the leather strips that bound her to
the table.
The reverend called to her husband.
“Come, Stephen. Come to your wife.”
A lanky, blonde man in his late
twenties came forward, bearing a sheepish grin. “Emily. Emily, you are
free.”
The young woman smiled at her husband
and lifted a hand to his face. The gentle moment was shattered when she
let loose a piercing shriek and slashed at his face with her
fingernails. With a primal force she broke free of the remaining bonds
and attacked her husband. The room echoed with frightened screams from
the crowd. Several of the men reacted, pulling Emily off her shocked
husband, but not before she’d drawn blood.
The reverend lifted his hands,
shouting to his flock. “The Messiah has punished her! He has taken her
wit and her good sense for tampering with the tools of the Devil. The
Messiah speaks through me and we will mete out consequence.”
Emily fought against her captors as
they dragged her from the room. Reeling from the sudden turn of events,
Dean struggled to find his voice, finally yelling at the reverend.
“She hasn’t done anything!” He took a
step toward the leader but his father’s strong hands held him back.
The reverend spun on them and John
knew what was coming. Ridgeway was no different than any other
charismatic, power-hungry man - he professed love and righteousness
while ruling with a severe hand. To maintain his alpha position he
would denounce any who challenged him.
“You have given the demon more power!
The Messiah took her to him but you defied his will and brought her
body back to this world! Her soul is no longer her own!”
The resentment towards their presence
was palpable. John put a hand on Dean’s back and pushed him toward the
door. Caleb flowed with the press of the crowd and also retreated, but
shouted at the reverend.
“What are you going to do to her?”
“She will be cast out amongst the
dogs!” the reverend decreed.
Dean crossed his arms and took in a deep breath, dreading telling the
rest of the story. “A couple of days later Caleb was able to get hold
of his friend who told him they left her out in Dogtown. Caleb phoned
in an anonymous tip to the police and he found out later she was
admitted to a psychiatric hospital.”
“So what’s the rumor he called you about?” Sam prompted.
“There’ve been half a dozen sightings over the last month in the woods
of Dogtown - the ghost of an old woman who demands payment. Sound
familiar? But the account that Caleb saw on a New England ghosts web
page said the old woman called herself Emily Carver and was begging for
help.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “That lady we saw tonight was way too old to be
the girl you described. Besides, wouldn’t she still be-”
Dean anticipated the question. “Caleb made a couple of phone calls -
Emily was released from the hospital a month ago.”
He absently chewed on the soft skin of his lower lip and continued to
look out into the ocean, hypnotized by the whitecaps. Leaning forward
slightly, his crossed arms pressed against the cool glass of the
sliding door, and he became aware of the drain of energy that followed
the use of his new healing powers.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, as if he was talking to himself.
“Guess you’ve always been right, Sammy. Don’t ever trust me, ‘cause I’m
just gonna follow orders, and sometimes that’s the wrong thing to do.”
“Dean, it was all out of your control.” Sam never realized that his
brother had taken up this mantle of guilt two years ago. No words would
change his mind. “You tried to help her…And did what you could under
the circumstances…”
Dean gave a harsh laugh. “Your moral compass must not be working, bro.”
He turned his head slightly but didn’t look at his brother. A part of
him wished he could will Sam to leave, to run. Dean felt he’d come in
contact with the dark too many times, and every meeting had left a
little bit of darkness in him - miniscule pieces that saturated his
body, till eventually it spread to those around him, destroying their
lives.
“She was eighteen, and the day I didn’t stand up – that was the day her
life was destroyed. Her life, Sammy…’cause I didn’t do what I thought
was right.”
“Is that why you wanted me to visit Sarah instead of coming here with
you?” Sam asked. “Dean…Look, man, let’s try to find out what’s going
on. Maybe we can help her.”
Slowly, Dean turned to face his brother, determination set his
features. “Whatever it takes. I just want to make it right.”