Written for a contest for @asksamstuff
Post 12X16 Ladies Drink Free
After the disasterous hunt with Claire and Mick, Sam and Dean just want to work a simple case. What they get instead is a blast from the past, and a look at the future.
Here is the comic it is based off of.
“So, get this,” Sam calls as Dean saunters into the kitchen, making a bee-line for the coffee pot.
“Whoa, whoa hold on.” Dean mumbles before Sam can continue. The younger man opens his mouth but Dean puts a hand up and pours a cup of coffee, keeping his palm toward Sam until he is finished and has taken a sip. “Okay, now you can geek out all you want about whatever case you’ve found for us.” He says, lowering his hand and dropping to sit at the table.
Sam glares at his brother for a moment before protesting “Dude-“
“Hey, don’t act so surprised.” The older hunter interrupts again, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table. “That’s always what you say when you’re about to pitch a case to me and man, it’s too early for research unless I’ve had some coffee first.”
Sam stares at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. He slides his computer to where Dean can see the screen, pointedly knocking his bare feet off the table in doing so.
“So ge-“ he pauses, ignoring Dean’s snort, “Look at this article. Ashville, North Carolina. Says here that kids have been going missing overnight and their bodies are being found the next day in the middle of the woods, ‘half buried with multiple lacerations to the head and torso.’”
“Okay…” Dean comments, thinking as he sips his coffee, “Could be an animal attack. What makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asks.
Sam holds up a finger before scrolling down the page and reading directly from the article, “’The bodies were found standing vertically, as if they had sunk into the ground.’” He looks at Dean, waiting for his response.
Dean downs the rest of his black coffee, grimacing at the temperature. “Okay that does ping my weird meter.” He pauses, his eyes moving down the article, before asking, “How many victims?”
The younger Winchester nods sadly. “Two so far.”
“Alright then, let’s get packed up.” Dean starts toward his room, turns back and asks, “Sam? Did this hunt come from-“
Sam interrupts him, shaking his head. “This one is all me.” Dean nods and takes the last few steps out of the room.
Alone in their industrial sized kitchen Sam nods to himself, scanning the names of the victims again. He understood Dean’s hesitance. After what happened on the hunt with Claire and Mick, Sam is also reluctant to take hunts form the British Men of Letters, despite the results they get. Maybe taking out something that is targeting children will help him forget the heartbroken cries that haunt his dreams.
Sam hands Dean his fake FBI badge, pocketing his own and opening his door to head into the police station. He stops when he realized his brother is not following him. The younger man bends down to look back into the car at Dean who is staring at his badge. “Dude, come on. What are you waiting for?”
The older man looks at Sam, turning his badge toward his brother. “Seriously? Agent Rosenberg?” Sam scoffs and looks away. “And I supposed you’re ‘Agent Summers’ then?” Dean jokes. Sam’s cheeks turn red. “Oh my God you didn’t.”
Sam slams his door and begins walking toward the building, his brother rushing to follow him. “You know, if you were going to go all geeky on me you could have at least made yourself the nerd. If we’re both chicks I’m definitely the badass Slayer.” He teases.
Sam tries to hide a laugh. “Call me a geek all you want, but you got the reference too, Dean.” He fires back, making Dean stop in his tracks.
The older Winchester shakes his head at his giant nerd of a brother. “Sammy the Vampire Slayer!” he calls after ‘Agent Summers’, hurrying to catch up with Sam’s longer stride.
The police station isn’t very busy and soon the hunters are directed to an elevator near the back of the building. Pulling their badges, the brothers step out of the elevator on the bottom floor.
“Hello.” Dean calls. “Anyone down here? Special Agents …” he rolls his eyes, “Rosenberg and Summers.”
A short woman with long brown hair tied high on her head steps around the corner. “FBI?” she asks, then shakes her head. “How may I help you gentlemen?”
Sam smiles at her. “We’d like to take a look at the bodies from the woods? David Nelson and Austin Bradford?”
The coroner nods sadly. “I guess I should have known that was what you were here for. We don’t exactly have a low crime rate here, but not much involving children. Most of the town is shaken up and you can count on parents keeping a closer eye on their young ones.” Sam gives her a sympathetic nod, a sad glint in his eyes. “Right this way, agents.”
She leads them into the next room which has four steel tables in the middle of the floor and drawers along one wall. Two of the tables are currently occupied by shapes under white sheets. The bodies look tiny in the sparse room.
“I’m Jenna Spear, by the way.” She introduces herself, holding her gloved hands out. “I’d shake your hands, but…”
“That’s fine, Dr. Spear.” Sam smiles. “I’m Sam Summers, this is my partner, Dean Rosenberg.” Jenna nods to them before walking to the closest table.
The three of them gather around the table as Jenna pulls back the sheet to reveal the body of a young boy. “This is Austin Bradford, the first victim.” She explains, handing them the file from the end of the table. “He was found two three nights ago. David Nelson was found the next night.”
“No victim from last night, though?” Dean asks.
“No.” she shakes her head. “Like I said, parents have been keeping a real close eye on their kids. But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time. The local kids love to go out to the cemetery in the woods. It’s a traditional dare or something.”
Sam pulls out his phone. “Cemetery in the woods?” He asks.
“Yeah, it’s this really old spot from back when the town was first founded. Kids go out there all the time. The younger ones just want a bit of a scare, but older kids get up to all kinds of trouble out there.”
“Dr. Spear,” Sam asks, holding up a map of the woods on his phone. “Do you think you could show me about where this cemetery is?” She nods and examines the map for a moment before drawing a circle around a small portion of woods.
“Should be somewhere around there.” Sam examines the map where she circled.
“Thank you very much.” Dean smiles at her, handing her a card. “If you find anything else give us a call, okay?”
“My pleasure.” She covers the body again, then adds, “Agents. Please find the monster that did this.”
Sam and Dean share a glance at her word choice before nodding. As they exit the morgue Jenna nods to herself, reenergized in her search for clues.
“So what are you thinking?” Dean asks as they walk into their hotel room.
Sam pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over his chair, rubbing one hand down his face. “I don’t know. According to the coroner’s report their hearts weren’t missing.”
“Rules out werewolves then.” Dean adds. “Any other ideas?”
Sam shakes his head, digging for his iPad. “There’s got to be something about the way the bodies were found. I feel like I’ve read something like that before…” He trails off, tapping at his screen.
“Great. Looks like it’s more research for us.” Dean mumbles, dropping into the seat opposite from Sam and pulling out a laptop.
Sam sets his tablet down on the table with a little more force than necessary, rubbing at his eyes. Dean, who had long since gotten frustrated with their fruitless search for answers in the Men of Letters database Sam created, sits on his bed cleaning the guns. “Well, you lasted longer than even I thought you would.” He comments and Sam sighs. “Come on man, take a break. If you haven’t found anything in there yet with your giant nerd brain maybe there’s nothing to be found.”
Sam sighs again, resting his face in his hands. “I know there’s something here. I know I’ve read something about this, if I could just remember-“ he reaches for the tablet again. Dean sighs and walks up to the table, putting his hand on the computer to keep Sam from picking it up.
“Look, Sam. I want to find this thing as much as you do, but it won’t do the kids of this town any good to burn ourselves out with research and then not be able to even fight the thing.” He pauses. “You’ll remember whatever it is that’s pinging at the back of your mind eventually, but this isn’t helping.”
Sam moves his hand from the tablet, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” He sighs. “But I can’t just sit here, Dean. Not when people are dying, when kids are dying.”
Dean nods. “I know. It’s getting late. How about this, let’s finish cleaning the guns, and then if we still haven’t come up with anything when we’re done, we’ll go out to the cemetery ourselves and see if we can find anything that will help.” He waits a second, but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Sound like a plan?” Sam nods, stands up, and gets to work cleaning a gun.
“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam starts, as they pack the guns back into the duffle bag in order to move them back into the Impala’s secret compartment. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with. Do you really think it’s a good idea to just go out into the woods where-“
“Sam, come on!” Dean interrupts his brother. “You were all for this plan an hour ago.”
“Yeah, but now that we’ve taken a break I feel like I can find whatever it is-“ Sam starts again, moving for his tablet.
“Hey. If there was something to be found with the information we have, you would have found it earlier. I know you Sam. We’re not going to get any further without more information.” He sighs, looking down. “Look, we’ll take angel blades. They kill almost anything, it will be fine.”
Sam hesitates for another moment. “Fine. I don’t think we should be charging into the woods without even knowing what we’re dealing with, much less how to kill it.” He looks down and his shoulders tighten. “But you’re right. We aren’t going to get anywhere without knowing more about what we’re looking for and I can’t just sit here and wait for another victim to give us that information. Let’s go.”
It’s not a long drive from the hotel where they are staying to the entrance to the woods. They park the Impala at the edge of the trail and go to the trunk to get their weapons. It is the middle of the night and there are no other cars around.
“So what are we thinking?” Dean asks his brother, who is staring at the map of the woods on his phone and comparing it to a paper one they picked up from the hotel office.
Sam points to a spot on the map. “Okay, this is where the coroner said the cemetery is.” He checks his phone again and then nods to himself, sliding his finger over the map. “And this is the area where the bodies were found, according to the police report. So,” he trails off, checking the map on his phone once more, “if we are here, we should take this trail.” He points to a thin line wandering through the woods on the map, then looks around and motions toward an opening in the trees marked with a trail sign.
“Alright then.” Dean nods, grabbing his angel blade and a flashlight and handing Sam the same. “Let’s go kill a monster.”
“How far is it to where the bodies were found?” Dean asks again, making a show of dragging his feet over the dirt trail.
Sam rolls his eyes, “Just a little closer than the last time you asked.” He fires back, scanning the woods with his flashlight before moving the beam back to the trail in front of him.
Dean huffs in annoyance. “I hate hiking.” He grumbles. When Sam ignores him, continuing to trudge ahead, he adds, “I guess you’re in your element though, am I right, ‘she who hangs out in cemeteries’?”
“Oh come on, Buffy. You know I’m not-“ Dean sighs, stopping when he sees where Sam’s flashlight is pointing. The ground in front of them is marked with two trenches each about half a foot across. They run parallel to each other, a little more than a foot apart. Dean walks a little further and notices that they get deeper the farther he goes. He looks at the ground behind them, before the trenches start, and sees the imprints of footsteps, not quite as deep as the beginning of the trenches, leading right up to the disturbed ground Sam still stands in front of. “Damn.” He mutters under his breath.
Sam has pulled the map out and is holding his flashlight with his shoulder to examine it again. “We’re almost to where the bodies were found.” Dean comes over and holds his flashlight to the map, allowing Sam to take his light out of its precarious position. “Thanks. Another nine hundred feet or so is where the first body was found.”
Sam folds the map up again and the brothers walk on, one on each side of the small trenches, a new awareness of their surroundings evident in the motions of their flashlights across the path and the surrounding forest. The trenches continue to get deeper as the brothers walk further into the woods. They don’t talk, just continue to scan the trees with their lights. Finally, they come to a place where the two trenches, now almost a foot deep, merge into a single hole in the ground that sinks deeper even than the lowest points of the trenches.
“This must be where the first body was found.” Sam comments, shining his light down into the hole.
“What could do this?” Dean asks as he looks behind them at the trail of disturbed earth leading up to where they stand.
Sam shakes his head and Dean can see frustration in his very posture. “There’s something about this…” he shakes his head again and pulls out the map once more.
“So what about the other victim? Were they found in the same, uh, place?” Dean asks, shining his light around him in search of another hole.
Sam is examining the map. “No, the police report said he was found off the trail, sunk into the ground just like the first kid.” He heaves a frustrated sigh and folds the map again. “They weren’t very specific about where off the trail though so I guess we’re just going to have to look around.”
Dean sighs as well. “Great, not only are we in the woods, but now we have to go hiking through the underbrush. Just what I want to be doing on a Friday night.”
Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s complaining. “As far as I can tell, the second victim was found on the left side of the trail so that at least narrows it down a little bit.” Dean grumbles as the younger hunter continues, “You want to look back the way we came or ahead of us?”
“I’ll go check back the way we came.” Dean decides. “Just in case you missed something since your freakishly long legs make you so far from the ground.” He jokes as he turns to walk back toward the entrance to the woods.
Sam rolls his eyes and steps off the trail to the left, scanning the ground with his flashlight. Almost immediately, he begins to notice signs that someone passed through here, just close enough to the path to see it through the trees but far enough away that they would not be seen through the underbrush. The hunter follows the trail and notices the same markings that covered the ground leading up to the hole where the first victim was found. A line of deep footprints leading into two deepening trenches ahead of him that begin to track back toward the path.
“Dean!” Sam calls to his brother over his shoulder to let him know he found something, before kneeling down to examine the footprints more closely. He hears footsteps behind him. “That was fast, were you even look-“ his words are cut off in a grunt when something heavy lands on his back. “What the hell?” He twists around as much as possible but all he can make out of what is climbing onto his shoulders in a dark shape. Sam tries to throw it off by twisting his body but he feels clawed hands digging into his shoulders and lets out a pained yell. His vision goes bright with the pain and in the empty whiteness he sees a clearing filled with crumbling tombstones, the cemetery. As the thought comes to his mind he feels a pull somewhere inside himself and suddenly all he wants is to get to that cemetery. The hunter struggles to stand under the extreme weight of the monster on his back and takes a step deeper into the woods.
Each lifting of his feet is a struggle, the creature on his back is heavier than should be possible and he feels his heels begin to sink into the ground as he walks. Still, all he can think about is getting to the cemetery. Some part of him finally realizes what it is they are hunting but that voice is far in the back of his head, hidden under the pressing importance of the cemetery he saw in his mind and the crushing weight of the creature on his back. He breaks out of the woods and steps back onto the path, still moving slowly and painfully deeper into the forest. The creature on his shoulders seems to be getting impossibly heavier with each step he takes until he can no longer lift his feet and is instead forced to drag them over the ground. He finally understands in that place at the back of his mind how the trenches leading up to the holes were made. Even though the hunter knows where this is leading for him if he even slows the creature digs its hands deeper into the flesh of his shoulders and sinks heavier onto him until Sam can almost feel his spine creaking under the pressure.
The younger Winchester takes another painful, sliding step toward the cemetery, wondering how he is even standing at this point, when he hears an explosion of sound from the trees to his left.
“Hey Chucky! Get off my brother!” Dean yells as he runs out of the woods, angel blade in hand.
“Dean!” Sam grunts as his brother charges up to him and slashes at the creature on his back.
The monster hisses into Sam’s ear and he gets another image of the cemetery, whiting out his vision, before the weight falls from his back. Suddenly, Sam’s legs can’t hold him up and he finds himself dropping painfully to the ground. He hears scurrying in the woods beside him and his brother cursing as he lays there panting and blinking at the spots still covering his vision.
Dean yells after the creature one more time, Sam can’t quite make out his words and realizes for the first time that his ears are ringing, before dropping in front of his brother. “Sam?” Dean calls, a hand on his brother’s back. “Sammy, you okay? Talk to me man!”
Sam can hear the concern in his brother’s tone and he wants to answer him, he just has to get enough air into his gasping lungs to be able to speak. For the moment he just nods and continues taking deep gulps of air, trying to breathe around the ache in his back. Dean must understand that Sam can’t speak yet and waits, his hand still on the younger man’s back, for which Sam is grateful. Behind his closed eyes Sam can almost see Dean scanning the woods for the creature’s return, worry lines stretched across his mouth and beside his eyes.
After a few minutes of deep breaths Sam feels much better and decides he can get up now. He starts to shift so he can push himself up on his elbows. “Woah, easy. Let me help, Sam.” Dean’s voice is soft but Sam can still hear the worry as his brother slides an arm across his chest, taking the younger man’s weight from his shaking arms. He pulls Sam upright slowly until he is sitting up, one hand still across his back keeping him that way. “How about we don’t try to sit up on our own when we still haven’t opened our eyes, huh?” Dean teases softly and it is only then that Sam realizes that his eyes are, in fact, still closed.
He grunts, still not feeling like he has enough oxygen to spare for proper speech, before forcing his lids open. And then wishing he hadn’t. The whole world spins and Sam finds himself falling forward, only kept from kissing the dirt of the path by his brother steering his head to drop onto his shoulder. Sam groans again.
“What did I tell you?” Sam can hear the smirk in Dean’s voice. Then more serious, “Give it a second, Samuel.” The younger Winchester feels his lips tug up in a smile at that and does what he’s told.
Even behind his closed lids Sam can see the light in the woods changing and realizes that the sun must be starting to rise. “Think I’m good now.” He croaks, surprised at how much breathing still hurts his back. He pulls away and manages to sit up on his own.
Dean looks doubtful but then he looks at the brightening sky around them. He sighs. “We do need to get going before the sun finishes coming up and we start running into hikers.” He looks Sam over again, then stands. Sam starts to push himself to his knees, but Dean drops a hand to his shoulder, making him hiss in pain. “Sam? You okay?”
Sam nods and motions to his shoulders. Dean takes a closer look and notices for the first time now that the sky is brightening, the tears in the fabric of his brother’s shirt. “Holy shit, Sam! You didn’t tell me you were hurt!” He goes to kneel in front of Sam again but the younger hunter brushes him off.
“Was a little busy breathing. Plus, s’ not that bad. You’re right. Need to get out of here. It can wait till the hotel.” He sentences are a little choppy and he knows Dean notices but breathing still hurts the muscles of his back and he wants to use as little air as possible.
His brother sighs. “Fine, but I’m checking them out when we get to the car.” Sam rolls his eyes and then winces at the beginnings of a headache he can feel massing behind his eyes. “Alright, let’s get you up. You good to walk?” He asks, gripping Sam under the elbows. Sam nods gingerly, attempting and failing to minimize the pain in his head. “Okay, let me do most of the work, I don’t want you passing out on me and making me carry your heavy ass out of here.” Dean says before counting to three and lifting Sam slowly to his feet.
Sam closes his eyes against the dizziness at the altitude change, leaning into his brother’s grip on his forearms. He’s pretty sure Dean is holding up almost all of his weight and tries to take some for himself. Dean puts one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder and the younger man winces at how it pulls at his wounds. “Sorry.” Dean comments and Sam shakes his head. He needs all the support he can get to walk out of here and maybe the pain will help keep him awake. Now that he is upright he feels just how exhausted he is. His entire body is begging him to rest and the only thing keeping him upright is Dean’s arm across his waist.
They make their stumbling way back to the Impala, just as the sun comes fully into the sky. The black car still stands alone in the lot beside the woods and Dean breathes a sigh of relief at that as he steers his brother to the passenger side.
Sam is nearly dead weight, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and Dean struggles to dig the keys out of his pocket before unlocking his Baby and dropping his brother gently onto the leather seat. Once he is sure Sam isn’t going to fall out of the car, he goes to the trunk and digs for the first aid kit, bringing it back to where Sam leans in the car, nearly passed out.
“Alright, Sam. I just need a little help and then you can pass out all you want. Let’s get these layers off.” He talks mostly to himself as he works, Sam is too exhausted to be much help but eyes are still open and he tracks Dean’s movements.
The older Winchester hisses when he sees the wounds, deep punctures on both of Sam’s shoulders from the creature digging its claws into his brother. “This is going to sting.” He warns the younger man before pouring alcohol over the punctures, making sure some gets into all of them as Sam grunts in pain. “Sorry man. Almost done.” Dean continues to narrate as he pulls gauze out of the kit to cover each of his brother’s shoulders, taping it down, and then patting Sam’s chest. “All done.” He tells Sam, who just nods, biting his lip so hard Dean knows he’s about to make it bleed.
He doesn’t say anything, just packs up the first aid kit as fast as he can before throwing it back into the trunk and sliding into the driver’s seat of the Impala. Sam is leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, but Dean can tell by his breathing that the younger man isn’t asleep. When he has started the car and pulled back out onto the road - avoiding as many bumps as he can so as not to cause his brother any additional pain - Sam finally speaks. “Myling.”
Dean shoots his brother a confused look but Sam’s eyes are still closed. “Come again?” Sam doesn’t answer and for a moment Dean thinks he must have imagined the first time.
After a minute, Sam sighs and repeats. “Myling. The creature. That’s what it is. I figured it out.”
“Alright, Sammy.” Dean grins at his brother but the younger man’s eyes are still closed.
Sam still manages a smile and asks, “Does this mean you get to figure out how to kill it when we get back to the hotel?”
Dean rolls his eyes but he knows Sam is right. Dean will be doing the research, at least until Sam has rested a little from their encounter with the Myling. The older Winchester will actually enjoy figuring out how to kill the son of a bitch who hurt his brother.
Sam shifts uncomfortably at the pain in his back. He struggles to remember where he is and why his muscles feel so sore. He and Dean were on a hunt, he remembers that much.
They couldn’t figure out what they were hunting so they went out into the woods, and then – the memory all but smacks Sam in the face. Following the trail to the second hole, calling Dean, the creature climbing on his back, and then the cemetery, the all-encompassing need to get there. Sam tears his eyes open and looks desperately around him. He remembers Dean stabbing the creature but not much after that.
When his vision finally comes into focus, Sam sees his brother sitting at a table, concern on his face. The younger hunter looks around, taking in more of his surroundings, before realizing that he is back in their hotel room. How he got here, though, is another story.
When he looks again at his brother, Dean is still watching him with concern on his face. The older hunter must see the confusion on Sam’s face. “After I got you to the car you kind of passed out.” He tells Sam. “I practically had to carry your heavy ass in here to put you in bed.” Sam can feel shame creeping into his face for passing out and leaving Dean to take care of everything. His brother adds, “You did manage to stay awake long enough in the car to at least tell me what we were facing.” Dean grins at him.
Sam gives him a quizzical look before the memory hits him again. A Myling. It was so clear, he doesn’t know why it took him so long to figure it out. “Myling.” He repeats. “Figure out how to kill it yet?” He starts to push himself up in bed, wincing at the fire that erupts in his shoulders, adding to the dull ache of his back.
Suddenly, Dean is beside him. “Alright, easy there Rambo. Let me help.” He pulls Sam up until he is leaning against the headboard, pillows behind him to soften the surface for his back. “That good?” Dean asks and Sam nods, still catching his breath. “How’s the head?” His brother asks, just as Sam registers the pounding starting up in his temples from all the movement. He turns to Dean, wondering how his brother knew his head was bothering him even before Sam did. Dean shrugs, “It was hurting you last night in the car. Plus your eyes got all squinty like they do when you get a migraine. How bad is it?”
Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Four. S’ not that bad.”
Dean looks at him for another second, trying to decide how truthful he’s being, before stepping away. “Mylings,” the older hunter comments, “more like demon zombie babies.”
Sam gives him a look that says, ‘Seriously?’ and Dean rolls his eyes. “Right, I mean, ‘the incarnation of the soul of a child born out of wedlock’” he reads from a page pulled up on the laptop, then walks over to Sam with the younger man’s tablet. When Sam reaches for it Dean pulls it back and hands him some pills first, nodding to a glass of water already waiting on the nightstand. Sam sighs but swallows the pills before taking his tablet from his brother.
He opens the iPad immediately and begins talking. “It’s more than that, Dean. These children were taken out into the woods and left to die because their very birth was illegal.” He stops scrolling and reads, “’Now Mylings are said to chase lone wanderers at night and jump on their backs, demanding to be carried to the graveyard, so they can rest in hallowed ground’.” He looks up at Dean. “The thing is, the closer you get to hallowed ground, the heavier the Myling gets. It’s almost impossible to make it there.” He shakes his head at himself. “It all makes so much sense now. That’s why the bodies were found in holes like they were. And the trenches leading up to the holes, those were made when they dragged their feet, trying to get to the cemetery. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”
Dean rolls his eyes at his geek of a brother. “It says here that if the person is unable to get the Myling to the cemetery it will ‘kill its victim in rage’.” Dean adds. “What I’m not seeing anything about is how the victim knows what to do. Like, how did those kids know to take it toward the cemetery? How did you?” He asks.
“It was like, this vision.” Sam answers. “When it climbed on top of me, it dug its claws into my shoulders,” the hunter moves a hand to rest gently over the healing punctures in his shoulder. “And when it did, my vision went kind of white and I saw this cemetery. Really old…” Sam trails off, seeing the vision again in his mind. “And I was filled with this overpowering urge to get there, no matter what.” He looks at Dean.
“So the demon baby climbed on your back and you suddenly wanted to give it a piggy back ride of death? Those are some ‘killer’ Dad instincts.” He smirks.
“Shut up” Sam rolls his eyes.
Dean huffs a laugh. “Okay, well unfortunately I’m also not seeing much about how to kill it.” He frowns. “The angel blade barely hurt it and I get the feeling it only ran off because the sun was coming up soon and we presented more of a fight than it was willing to give. So, any bright ideas for how to kill it, Einstein?”
Sam is looking at his tablet, but he doesn’t seem to be reading anything. Dean can almost see the gears turning in his brother’s head. Finally, he seems to have an inspiration, scrolling rapidly down the page. He stops on something and nods to himself. “Okay, want to share with the class?” Dean asks.
“Of course” Sam says, still talking to himself. He looks at Dean. “What if the lore doesn’t tell us how to kill it because we don’t have to kill it?”
Dean frowns. “Uh, Sam. This thing is killing people, kids. I’m pretty sure it’s in our job description to kill it.”
“No.” Sam says, “I mean, yes we have to get rid of it, make it stop killing people, but what if the way to do that isn’t to kill it?”
Dean is still confused. “What, Sam? You want to sit it down and tell it the consequences of its actions? Put it in time out and tell it to ‘think about what it’s done’? I don’t think that’s going to work.”
Sam waves off his brother’s teasing, again looking at his tablet. “The Myling is the soul of a child born out of wedlock that was left in the woods to die, right?” He asks.
“Yeah, Sam. We read that already. I’m not following you here.”
“Well, back in the days when having a child out of wedlock was illegal, burial was also very important. More specifically, religious burial on hallowed ground.” He pauses but Dean is still looking unsure. “If people got in trouble with the Church the worst punishment they could get was to be excommunicated, which meant they couldn’t have a proper Christian burial. They believed that the soul couldn’t ascend into heaven to be at rest without such a burial. The Myling wants to get to the cemetery, maybe if we get it there it will, I don’t know, cross over.”
Dean looks doubtful. “You really think that will work, Ghost Whisperer?”
Sam looks back at his tablet. “I don’t know. But the Myling, the child it was before it was killed, it wasn’t evil. Maybe they don’t mean to hurt others now. I mean, they’ve only been shown hatred, how could they know any better? I think it’s worth a shot.”
Dean nods, “Alright, you’re the expert on research. If you think it will work, I trust you.” He doesn’t miss the small smile that sneaks onto his brother’s face at his words. “There’s one problem though, how are we going to get it to the cemetery?”
Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think we can just lure it there, I think it will have to be carried onto hallowed ground.”
“Right, and that worked so well last time.” Dean comments.
“We just need to get as close to the cemetery as possible before it jumps us.” Sam says.
“It only attacked us when we split up,” Dean remembers, “and the lore says it attacks ‘lone wanderers’,”
“So maybe if we don’t split up it won’t attack right away. It will wait until we get closer.” Sam finishes a smile on his face. God, he is such a giant nerd, Dean thinks.
“Okay.” Dean, nods. “We’ll go out as soon as it gets dark enough. And Sam,” he adds, “I’m going to carry it into the cemetery.”
“No, Dean. It already has its sights on me. I’ll do it.”
“Exactly, you’re already hurt, which is why I should be the one to do this. Let’s please just not argue about this. I’m going to need you to have my back but please just let me to this.”
Sam holds out for a moment but this sighs, nodding. “Fine, but at any sign of trouble, I will take it from you.”
Dean rolls his eyes fondly at his stubborn little brother but nods, knowing Sam isn’t kidding. No matter how hurt he is, he will find a way to watch out for his brother. He smiles and begins gathering things together in preparation for tonight.
They make it all the way to the hole where the first victim was found without any sign of the Myling. The brothers stay close, using their flashlights to scan the woods around them for movement. “How long do you think it’s going to let us just stroll through the woods?” Dean asks but Sam just shakes his head.
“No idea. Let’s just hope it waits until we are close enough to the cemetery.” Sam can see the place where he came out of the woods last night ahead of them, the still present ache in his back and shoulders more than enough reminder of how hard this is going to be. Suddenly, Dean stops, standing very still. Sam stops as well, seeing the tension in his brother’ back. He listens for whatever Dean must have heard but he hears nothing. He is about to ask the older man why he stopped when there is a sudden flash of movement in the trees to their right.
Before Sam can let out a warning, the Myling is on Dean’s back, gripping his shoulders with its sharp claws. His brother gasps and his knees bend under the weight of the creature, his eyes shut against what Sam knows is a vision of the cemetery. He struggles to stand in place, a foot or so behind his brother as Dean takes a first step toward the clearing full of gravestones. Sam steels himself and follows along behind his brother, wincing with each step as the memory of the creature’s painful claws in his shoulders fills his mind. He hates not being able to keep the monster from hurting his brother, hates watching as Dean struggles under the weight and the overpowering desire to get to the graveyard.
Sam notices Dean’s feet begin to sink into the ground with each step, leaving a line of footprints behind him. Several yards later the older hunter begins dragging his feet, each movement scraping away inches of dirt. The younger man wants so badly to take the burden from his brother but he knows he has to wait until the last possible moment to intervene, otherwise they will never make it to the cemetery.
Now, Dean’s progress is torturously slow. Each step is accompanied by a pained grunt as his feet drag away at the ground. If the hunter pauses for a moment, or even slows his steps, the Myling digs its claws deeper into Dean’s shoulders.
Sam is starting to see a break in the trees ahead and finally, he can’t take it anymore. The younger hunter steps up right behind his brother and grabs the creature, pulling at it. Dean stops, breathing heavily and his feet begin to sink into the ground. The Myling gives an angry screech, pulling its claws from Dean’s shoulders, but before it can begin to tear at him Sam stabs it with his angel blade. The creature screeches again and leaps at Sam, exactly as he hoped it would. Dean falls to his knees, panting, but Sam doesn’t have time to check on him before his vision is again filled with images of the cemetery. This time, his will matches what the creature wants from him and he begins to walk purposefully toward the graveyard. The Myling is already heavier than it was when it ran off last night but somehow that only serves to encourage Sam. They must be close to the cemetery. If he can just keep walking.
The ruins of an old church are beginning to peek through the trees when Sam feels like his back will break any minute under the pressure the Myling is putting on it. His already injured shoulders are on fire where the monster is again digging its claws into his flesh. The hunter is beginning to feel like he can’t take another step when there is a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. A dark shape leaps at him and he wonders what is attacking them now. Then the weight is gone from him shoulders. He falls to his knees and watches, vision blurred with exhaustion, as a giant, dark gray, creature grapples with the Myling. The creature hooks an enormous horn under the Myling which looks confused at this turn of events, but grabs onto its new victim’s dark hair. The black shape charges toward the cemetery as the Myling digs its claws into its neck.
Sam stumbles to his feet and follows after the creature on shaking legs. He is only a few yards behind the strange pair and he can see that even this giant creature is struggling under the weight of the Myling. He realizes then that he and Dean never stood a chance of making it to the cemetery with the Myling. If this creature hadn’t shown up they would both have died out here in these woods.
Despite the weakness in his legs Sam is able to catch up to the Myling and the dark creature as they cross into the cemetery. As it steps foot onto the hallowed ground, the giant animal shakes its head, trying to work the Myling loose. Sam’s vision is finally starting to clear when the Myling slides to the ground. As soon as its feet touch the ground of the graveyard, the surrounding forest erupts into a blinding white light. Through the painful brightness, Sam can see the shape of a child where the Myling stood before, smiling as it fades into the holy light.
Sam knows he should be concerned about the new creature. Just because it helped them get rid of the Myling doesn’t mean it won’t attack them next, but his legs finally give out on him as he blinks the spots out of his vision from the blinding light of the Myling crossing over.
The hunter’s eyes finally clear in time to see the creature turn to face him. He stares at the giant shape before him in shock. The creature is slender but its willowy limbs look strong. A long tail curls in the air behind it. It is clearly very old and at some point one of the powerful horns on its head must have been broken. The eye on the same side is missing, replaced by a jagged scar. Its remaining eye has a strange, cat-like pupil that seems to look into his soul.
As the thought comes into his mind a memory also surfaces, of a hunt with his father and brother when he was only fourteen. The images are fuzzy, but Sam can remember this creature. Something had been killing hikers and the Winchesters went to investigate. He had gotten separated from his family and woke up in a cave, this same creature standing over him. Sam remembers how she gave him a bag of marshmallows. He also remembers the small skeleton that sat in the corner of the cave.
At that moment, Dean comes staggering into the cemetery, gun in one hand, angel blade in the other. He doesn’t look much better than Sam and when he sees this new creature standing over his brother he levels his gun at the threat. “Dean, wait!” Sam calls, terribly afraid of what will happen if his brother shoots this creature. The hunter realizes he is concerned both for his brother and the creature. Dean flicks his gave from the threat just long enough to give Sam a look that says, ‘Are you out of you mind?!’ Sam ignores him.
“It’s okay. She isn’t dangerous. I know her.” His brother looks like he thinks the younger man might have been hit on the head but he lowers his weapon.
Before Dean can ask him what the hell he is talking about, Sam turns back to the creature. “Hello.” He murmurs, remembering that she can communicate.
The creature, who never stopped looking at Sam, doesn’t open her mouth but he can still hear her words all around him. Hello again, Samuel Winchester.
“I met you before.” Sam says, “I remember you, I remember that you told me something important but I don’t remember what it was.”
It is no longer of importance, Samuel. You did not need to hear what I had to say, and you did not need to remember it. But I needed to hear what you told me.
Sam tilts his head, confused. “What did I tell you, I can’t remember that either.”
The creature’s features change into what could almost be considered a smile. Yes, I did not expect you to. It was not something you told me with words, but with actions.
“Actions?” Sam asks, “I don’t under-“
“I don’t understand what either of you are talking about.” Dean interrupts, “Sam, what the hell?”
Sam finds it incredibly difficult to turn away from the creature’s gaze, but he answers his brother. “Remember that hunt when we were kids. Something was killing hikers but leaving their kids alive? Then I got separated,”
“And we found you in the thing’s lair. Yeah I remember.” Dean finishes. “The killings stopped and we never found the thing. Are you telling me this it? I thought you didn’t remember anything.”
“I didn’t.” Sam confirms. “Not until I saw her again, but this is her.”
Yes. The creature interjects and Sam turns back to her. That was a dark time. I truly apologize for any trouble I brought you, Dean Winchester. I was angry and confused. Dean looks shocked at the use of his name, his hand twitching on his weapon before relaxing again. I suppose I owe you two an explanation.
I was living in those woods with my child. He was a miracle, I am among the last of my kind and I never thought I would have offspring. He was also an adventurous little thing, always wandering off. One day, he ran into a group of humans. Hunters. Sam and Dean stiffen. Not your type, no these men just hunted for sport. Maybe he startled them, maybe they thought he was a strange deer. She pauses, looking sadly at Sam. I felt his fear, his pain, when they killed him. We were connected. I came as fast as I could, killed the men who had done it, and took his body back to our cave. But it was not enough.
I had been alone for so long and then I was not, I had this life that was mine to nurture and teach, my gift to the world. And what a gift he was. I couldn’t bear my loss and I was filled with a hatred for humans, all of them. Every time a group of them came near our cave I took out my rage on them, but I could never kill their children. No matter how deep my hatred for humans the children all reminded me of my son.
And then I met you, Samuel Winchester. Her eye is searching his soul again, but Sam does not shrink under her gaze as he expected to. He feels no judgement, only a deep admiration, maybe even love in her stare. Your soul called to me the minute you stepped into my woods. When you were separated from your family I could not leave you, I brought you to my cave.
Her words now seem to be directed only at Sam. I was mesmerized. I could see the deepest parts of you and I saw only goodness. At first I tried to tell myself that it was only because you were still a child, that you would be a monster someday, all humans were monsters. But I could see who you were, who you would become, and I could not argue with your soul. Your future stood before you, a painful thorny path, and yet no matter how I looked I still saw the light of goodness shining in you.
Sam feels her words stretch past him again. It was then that I knew I had been wrong. Not all humans were monsters, to think that made me just like the men who killed my child. I felt their sins heavy on my shoulders and I did not know how I would ever lift them. You showed me the answer to that, too, Samuel.
So I guarded you until your family was close, and then I left. I swore to myself that I would only kill real monsters, those that harm children. I began my penance. I was hunting this creature, the Myling. But I think, in a way, I was also following you.
Sam and Dean look at each other. “Why?” Sam asks, after several moments of silence.
You have helped me. Now it is time I help you. I am on the trail of another monster, you know him. Arthur Ketch.
“Ketch?” Dean asks, shock clear on his face.
The creature brings her tail in front of her, May I? She asks, motioning toward Sam’s head. The younger Winchester nods, completely certain that she means him no harm. Her tail is soft and warm on his skin. The creature’s touch brings a feeling of safety.
A vision forms in his head. Unlike the Myling’s oppressive vision of the cemetery, this image feels somehow like a gift. Sam accepts it and is horrified by what he sees.
Magda, the girl he and Dean had saved months ago, gets off a bus. She goes into the restroom of the bus stop and is followed by a man. A man with a tattooed hand that Sam recognizes with a flare of anger. He gasps.
“What?” Dean asks. “What did she show you?”
“Magda.” Sam whispers. “Ketch, he-“
The creature finishes for him, turning to Dean. Do not trust those who claim to be your friends. They kill children. She turns to Sam. I believe this is a hunt that belongs to you. I give it to you, now Samuel Winchester. Sam nods, feeling anger and sadness swirling inside him.
“Where will you go now?” He asks her.
She looks at the sky, closing her one eye for a moment. I will go where I am needed. But I think I am almost done. I have you to thank for that, Samuel. I have paid the debt I owe to you in the only way I know how. Again, her words are private, and Sam can feel them reaching places deep inside of him. We may not meet again but our souls are connected now. I am honored to have been saved by you, Sam Winchester.
Sam responds to her, not with words but with thought. And I by you.
She reaches out and touches his head again, then Dean’s. Sam’s exhausted limbs are filled with a new strength and the ache in his shoulders fades away. He sees Dean stand straighter. Then the creature turns and walks into the trees, her dark coat disappearing through the underbrush.
Dean turns to his brother. “What did she say to you?” He asks.
Sam thinks for a moment before answering, “Something I needed to hear.” The hunter realizes that there are tears on his cheeks. He doesn’t wipe them away.
The brothers are both exhausted by the time they make it back to the bunker. Dean heads straight to bed and, as much as Sam wants to sleep, he feels like he can’t just yet, anger at Magda’s unnecessary death filling his veins. So he goes into the library planning to do some research on Nephilim until he can’t stay awake anymore.
Sam stands in front of the bookshelf, looking for the tome on angelic creatures he knows is there somewhere, but another book catches his eye. It seems to call to him and Sam pulls it from the shelf to examine it. The spine is marked with fading letters, Natural History, Vol. 8 Pliny the Elder. Sam moves to the table, eyes not shifting from the book. He sits, opens to a random page that somehow doesn’t feel completely random, and reads.
‘Among the same people is also found the animal called the Yale, the size of a hippopotamus, with an elephant’s tail, of black or dark brown in color, with the jaws of a boar and horns more than a cubit in length capable of being moved and which in a fight are raised alternately and presented to the attack or sloped backward in turn as opportunity requires.’
Sam sets the book aside, pulling his laptop from the duffle at his feet. He boots it up and types, ‘yale mythical creature’, into the search engine, scrolling down and clicking on a link.
‘For two centuries following Pliny’s account, the Yale received little mention, but then it began to appear with increasing regularity in bestiaries and other accounts, eventually finding a place in medieval heraldry. It first appeared in the heraldry of Henry IV’s younger son John, and gradually was put to use elsewhere. In the 15th and 16th century, many prominent individuals with ties to the royal family incorporated the Yale into their heraldry, after which it passed once more into relative obscurity. Because of its prowess in battle, the Yale came to symbolize “proud defense” in medieval heraldry.’
He smiles to himself, closing his laptop and the book and walking to his room, an idea forming in his mind.
After hours of working, Sam opens his door and stands in the hallway, the small wooden shield he had found in one hand, a screwdriver in the other. He stares at his door for a moment, then nods.
It only takes him a minute to unscrew the Men of Letters symbol that is hung on his door and another minute to replace it with the shield. When he is done, Sam steps back and admires his work. He examines the Yale he painted on the wood. All the images he had found on the internet showed the creature with one horn forward and the other back. His Yale only has one horn that faces forward, leaving what is behind it alone. Sam smiles, going into his room and finally feeling like he can sleep.
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