Note: This will be the last really "episodic" post because at this point in writing I just got too excited about the overarching story I wanted to tell and wanted to get to it as quickly as I could.
Sam
and Dean burst into the apartment. Inside a man stood by the open window. He
had a hold of Dani by the arms, forcing her against the wall. She struggled
against his grip but couldn’t break free.
Dean raised his gun and fired a round off at the man. He turned, yellow snake eyes narrowing and
hissed some garbled words before disappearing through the window. Dani slumped against the wall, panting and
wide eyed.
“What
was that?” Sam asked, coming up to her.
“It
looked like Mr. Lee,” Dani said.
“You
know him?”
“Not
really,” she said. “He lives by the farmer’s market.”
“Are
you all right?” Sam asked, looking her over.
“I
don’t know, I think so, but…” She looked down at her forearm. Where Mr. Lee had
grabbed her intricate swirls were etched on her arm.
“He’s
gone,” Dean said, completing his sweep of the area.
“What
was he?” Dani asked, her voice taking on a shrillness at the end. She looked down at the mark on her arm. “What is this?”
“It’s
ok, we’ll figure this out,” Sam assured her.
.
. .
“Ok,
found it,” Sam said, pushing his laptop to the other end of the motel desk so
Dani could see. “That marking is from
the Hmong culture, from Asia. It’s “the
curse of the Dab.””
“The
‘you’ll never get married’ kind of curse or the ‘you’re going to die’ kind of
curse?” Dani laughed nervously then took a deep breath, setting her jaw. Seeing the look in Sam’s eyes she guessed it
was the dying kind of curse. “How long
do I have?”
“It
doesn’t say.”
“Why
would this Lee guy want to curse you?” Dean asked.
“Apparently
it’s not hard to tick one off.” Sam looked back at his computer. “This says, digging a hole in the wrong
place, catching one by surprise while it’s eating, even just bumping into one.”
“You
done any of that?”
“No.”
Dani squirmed a little in her seat. “You
remember I told you we don’t deal in narcotics? That was the rule we agreed on
when we started, but I found out a couple of weeks ago that Raul, my boyfriend,
was selling opiates to Mr. Lee. I almost
broke up with him right there, but he said he was doing it because Mr. Lee had
bone cancer.” She shrugged. “What can you say to that? So I told him I didn’t want anything to do
with it but whatever. Well, then I ran
into Mr. Lee’s niece and asked about how he was doing, and she didn’t know what
I was talking about. No cancer. I told Raul, we had a big fight about it, but
eventually he agreed to stop.”
“Yeah,
I guess cutting him off from his fix would probably make him madder than
bumping into him,” Dean said. “So how do
we kill a dab?”
“Killing
it won’t break the curse,” Sam said, scanning down the computer screen.
“Ok,
how do we break the curse?”
“What
I can find recommends going to a tvix neeb,
which is a Hmong shaman, and have them lift the curse. And,” he typed in a few commands, “most of
them are either in California or Minnesota.”
Dani
sighed. “So I guess I’m getting a bus north.”
“Do
you have any family here?” Sam asked.
“Someone who could go with you?”
“No,
it’s just me,” she said, shaking her head.
“What
about your boyfriend?”
“I
haven’t heard from him since Tanner died,” she said, stiffening. “They were friends since the fourth grade,
he’s taking it hard. Plus we’ve almost
broken up twice in the last couple of weeks so-“
“Ok,”
Sam said. “We’ll take you then.”
“No.”
Dani shook her head. “You don’t have to
do that. I got myself into this, I can
handle it myself.”
“You
don’t know how fast this curse is going to work or what it’s going to do to you,”
Sam said. “You can’t do this by yourself.”
“Besides,”
Dean put in, “we were going that way anyway, we found a case last night.”
“Really?”
Dani raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,
right Sam?”
“Right.”
Sam nodded. “There was that, uh, cursed object. So it’ll be pretty much on our way.”
.
. .
“So
how’d you end up in Crockett?” Dean asked, breaking the relative silence they’d
been riding in.
Dani
looked away from the scenery she’d been watching go by out the window. She shrugged.
“It’s where I ran out of money. I
barely had more than a hundred bucks when I left, which was obviously great
planning on my part.” She smiled to herself.
“It worked all right though, it’s not a bad little town.”
“You
said you were in a foster home before that?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. My mom died in a car wreck when I was
15. My granddad was a cop, who was
killed in the line of duty a couple of years before that and I didn’t really
have any other family.”
“Your dad?” Dean asked.
Dani shook her head. “Never knew him. He was my mom’s high school boyfriend, but
his family moved just before she found out she was pregnant so he never knew
about me. The first home I was in was
great, they were everything I could have hoped for, but the husband got sick
and they couldn’t keep us anymore. The
next place didn’t care. There were seven
of us and I don’t think they even knew all our names. So I thought I could take care of myself just
as well and I left.” She shifted in her
seat and scratched at the mark on her arm.
“So you guys kill ghosts?”
“Ghost, monsters, demons,” Dean said.
“Demons?”
“Yep.”
“How’d you get into that?”
“It’s what our dad did,” he answered. “He’s been taking
us along hunting since we were kids.”
“So it’s like your job?’ she asked. “Do people pay you to kill monster?”
“Wouldn’t
that be nice,” Dean said.
“How do you make money then?”
Sam made a face.
“Sketchily.”
.
. .
Dani stirred as the engine shut off. She sat up, wincing against the ache in her muscles,
and looked out the window. They were in
cul-de-sac, surrounded by small but neat houses. “Are we here?”
“Yep.” Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition. “This is where the shaman we talked to
lives.”
“That was fast.”
“You’d be surprised how much country you can cover if you
know how to speed,” Dean said. “Much
better than the bus, huh?”
Dani stumbled when she stepped out of the car, and Sam
caught her by the forearm, steadying her. “You ok?” he asked.
“Mmhm,” she nodded, straightening. “Thank you.” She wasn’t and Sam knew it, but
he let it go. She shuddered against a
cold that didn’t have to do with the temperature outside and zipped up her
jacket, pulling it tight around herself.
She reached down and began scratching her arm again as she followed Sam
and Dean up to the door.
Their knock was answered by a pleasant looking, elderly,
Asian man.
“Mr. Fang?” Dean asked.
“We spoke on the phone yesterday afternoon, I’m…”
“I know who you are Mr. Winchester,” the older man
said. “Please, come in.”
They filed into the entry way, Sam and Dani pausing in
the doorway to remove their shoes. Sam
cleared his throat and shot Dean a look, glancing down at his shoes.
“Right,” Dean muttered and removed his as well before
following Mr. Fang into his living room.
Mr. Fang motioned for them to sit on the couch and
settled himself into a large armchair that nearly swallowed him. “Let me see the mark,” he said.
Dani pulled up the sleeve of her jacket, angling her arm
toward the older man. The mark looked
more prominent today, several long scabs around it from where she’d been scratching. Mr. Fang studied the mark for a moment then
nodded. “The curse of the dab. The spirit who placed this mark was old,
strong.”
“Can you break the curse?” Dean asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Fang answered without hesitation. “But I will not do it for nothing. If I am to do something for you, you must
first do something for me.”
“What do you want?” Dean asked cautiously.
“There is a man who has stolen something from me, the
horn of kirin, that I use in certain rituals.
If you can return it to me, I will lift your curse.”
“Why do you need us?”
“I am old, the thief is not.” Mr. Fang smiled. “I am
aware of your reputation. Surely it will be nothing the Winchesters can’t
handle.”
.
. .
Dani stood in the corner of the motel room, watching Sam
and Dean assemble their gear.
“There’s something he’s not telling us,” Dean said.
“The horn’s probably not even his,” Sam said. “He’s probably making us steal it from this
other shaman guy.”
“Well, they can work out who stole it from who after we
leave.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dani asked. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dani asked. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. “This is our job. Here.” He held out a long silver spike to
her. “This is an angel blade. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble here,
but just in case this kills just about anything.”
.
. .
Sam and Dean sat in the impala, watching the house down
the street. A middle aged man left the
house and got into the van in the driveway.
They waited a minute after the car disappeared down the street, then
Dean threw open his door. “All right
let’s go.”
Inside the man’s house, they walked through several
sparsely furnished rooms until they entered what would have originally been the
second bedroom. The room held half a dozen
rows of shelves, all jam packed with bottles, jars and glass display cases.
“Ok, we’re looking
for a horn.” Sam sighed. “Let’s try not to touch anything else, we don’t know
what it all does.”
Sam went to the shelf on one end of the room and Dean to
the other and they began combing through the shelves. Halfway through the first one they both froze
as the door clicked open. The man walked
to his kitchen counter and reached for an envelope sitting on it but stopped,
lifting his head as if scenting the air.
He dropped into a half crouch and crept into the living room.
“You keep looking,” Dean whispered. “I’ll take care of that guy.”
Dean took out his gun and quickly crossed the room. He paused outside the living room door and
didn’t hear anyone moving around inside.
As he turned to go into the room something slammed against his wrist,
knocking the gun out of his hand. The
man stood in front of him, brandishing a samurai sword. He kicked Dean’s gun out of reach, and
grinned.
“Fang sent you?” He grabbed Dean by the front of the
shirt, throwing him into the room with surprising strength. “Did he tell you want happened to the last
lackey he sent after that horn? Did he tell you what I said I would do to the
next one?”
“Must have slipped his mind.” Dean looked up and noticed the samurai sword’s
mate hanging on the wall. Sweet. He lunged forward as he got to
his feet and grabbed it off the wall.
“Excellent,” the man said. “This is going to be much more fun than last
time.” He flourished his sword and his pupils expanded to take up most of his
eyes, bore tusks sprouting out from his lower jaw.
Dean took a step forward and swung the sword at the
creatures head. The man caught the blade
expertly on his own, turning it aside.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent Dean’s sword clattering across the
room.
“Perhaps not.” The man raised the sword and Dean ducked,
grabbing hold of the end of the coffee table and pushing it up to shield himself. The next blow struck the side of the coffee
table and the sword caught. The man
grunted and attempted to jerk it free. Dean
snatched up a lamp from the end table and slammed it into the creatures
head. It shattered and he dropped to the
floor.
“Sam,” Dean called, hurrying back to the storage room,
grabbing the free sword off the floor just in case the thing woke up. “Did you find it?” He put the edge of his
hand in his mouth, sucking the blood away from a cut left by the lamp.
“Yeah, here it is,” Sam pulled a box down off one of the
top shelves and took out a silver flecked, spiraled horn. “You good?”
“Fantastic,” Dean said.
“We got what we came for, let’s get out of here before that thing comes
to.”
.
. .
“Excellent work gentlemen,” Mr. Wang said,
inspecting the horn.
“Your boy back there knows that you’re the one who sent
us,” Dean cautioned him.
“I’m sure he does,” Mr. Fang answered. “But he can’t get in here, I’ve taken
precautions to keep his kind off my property.
We’re all perfectly safe here. Now, for my end of the bargain.”
Dani sat in the middle of the floor, huddled in her jacket,
pallid and shaking, her whole upper body rising and falling as she struggled to
get each breath. Mr. Fang knelt in front
of her, muttering under his breath in his native tongue. Gently he took her arm and pushed up her
sleeve, revealing the curse mark, livid against her forearm. He took a paste of herbs and spread it over
the mark and then tied several bright red strings around her wrists. He gave her a reassuring smile and then moved
to sit on the wooden benched he’d set up in the room. His chanting became louder and faster, his
eyes rolled back in his head and he began to sway.
“What’s he doing?” Dean whispered to Sam from where the
brothers watched in the doorway.
“He’s traveling to the space between worlds,” Sam
answered.
“Thanks, that explains it perfectly.”
“Shh.”
They waited for what felt like a very long time until the
chanting reached a crescendo. Dani
gasped and stiffened, then went limp and slid to the floor where she lay
motionless. Sam and Dean hurried
forward, but Mr. Fang got to her first.
He picked up her arm, feeling the pulse in her wrist and smiled up at
them. “She’ll be fine when she wakes.” He turned her arm over and wiped the herb
mixture away. The mark was gone.
.
. .
“All right,” Dean said, locking the motel room door as
they left. “Let’s get out of here before
that thing that had the horn catches up to us.”
“I really appreciate what you guys did for me,” Dani
said. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“Yeah, like I said, it’s what we do,” Dean said.
“What are you going to do now?” Sam asked her.
Dani shrugged. “I
don’t know. I guess I’ll, head back home
if I don’t find any place I like better in between.”
“Well, we really do have another case this time, in
Nebraska,” Dean said. “So, you’re
welcome to ride with us that far if you want.”
No comments:
Post a Comment