Title: Burning Dead
Author: Brea45 aka Wiccanmama
Characters/Pairings: John, Dean, Sam.
Warnings: slightly disturbing imagery.
This was maddening. This thing - in the shape of a large curvy woman with chestnut hair and a flowing white and blue cotton gown - could not be killed. At least not that John had found and he'd tried everything. Iron didn't do anything to it except make her pour tainted river water over her injured shoulder before continuing to wet down the bones and ash at her feet with no visible injury. Same went for the silver, the holy water made her smile at him, the salt made her blink, Christo made her look at him like he were slightly crazy, and fire sizzled and spluttered as if she were surrounded in a bubble of water.
She stood or knelt there, next to that river, with the charred remains of some poor bastard at her feet, scooping up the silty water from the diminished river into her tiny gold chalice and then pouring it onto her chosen victim of the day. There was a different one each day the damage different, the flesh still hanging onto some, bones charred and blackened on others. John hadn't figured out how she got the bodies yet, or who they were, or why she would pour water onto them but the thing wasn't human and it had to die.
John pulled in all his favors, called every hunter he had ever come across in his eleven years of hunting and found nothing on the thing she could possibly be. There were theories of course but they never panned out. Then, when John had left the motel room for the second week in a row to try and figure out how to at least maim the thing, Dean and Sam snuck out to follow him.
John scowled at his sons because they both knew better, Sam was determined and Dean resigned and there was nothing John could do about it now that they were in the woods with him. The woman mostly acted like John wasn't there and Sam was the expert researcher in the family, maybe he could figure out what this thing was.
John reluctantly led the boys to the riverside, the water no more than a slight trickling at this point due to the dam the local wildlife had built the night before but it didn't stop the woman from returning and distributing her water. No matter how murky the water was, or how stained her dress was getting. John stayed on guard, always wary for the proverbial ax to drop. This fairly pretty woman was no exception.
They all watched as she continued her work, her hands getting caked in mud, her shiny little chalice dull with muck and mud. Sam, being the least experienced hunter and still unable to keep from voicing his ever churning thoughts said. "Have you tried talking to her?"
The woman's hand stilled, glass raised ready to tilt over the body and her face turning to look at them. Fully acknowledging John for the first time without first being injured or provoked.
"Sam!" John hissed in warning not taking his eyes off the woman who had yet to move or avert her gaze.
"What? It's a good question. You ever ask her why she's doing that or ask her to stop?"
"Be quiet Sammy!" Dean stage whispered leveling his own gun on the mysterious creature.
John studied her every twitch her every blink, which was only two in the some three minutes they had been leveled on them. Then she moved and John fell to the muddy ground, every molecule of air ripped out of his lungs, Sam looked to be in the same situation. Only Dean looked like he were able to fight but didn't so much as move the pistol to follower her movements, his eyes were glassy and wide.
"Give me a sacrifice and I will release them," She said as she stood near chest to chest with John's eldest son. Her voice was soft and flowed like the murky water she constantly poured.
Dean looked groggily at Sam then John before looking back at her. "Why?"
"I require a sacrifice for the burning dead of this place," She said simply holding out her cup out in front of her. Still mud caked with a small amount of water sloshing around the inside. "I require blood to finish the cleansing."
Dean looked back at his family, who were now starting to turn blue from the lack of oxygen. Dean hurriedly grabbed a knife out of his pocket and sliced his palm, as soon as the blood hit metal of the chalice the mud disappeared and John and Sam were allowed to take in large gasping breaths.
The woman smiled and walked back to her place by her burned body and poured the blood tainted water into the trickling stream. There was a blinding flash of blue light and the water level rose at an alarming rate, enough so that the water that had once been several feet away from the newest corpse was now lapping at it's hands.
A beatific relieved smile crossed the woman's face and she approached Dean again, this time with a full glass of clear water in a sparkling crystal chalice; no gold and jewel incrusted mud caked monstrosity in sight, and poured it over his hand. "The righteous man has come to free me of my burdens, I thank you," She then poured the water over Dean's still bleeding palm and kissed him on the forehead.
There was a blinding flash of pure white light, the shadow of large black wings, and a dissonance that drowned out every other noise in the wood.
Beep Beep Beep
John woke up in his motel room with the the shrill beeping of the alarm clock and the light streaming directly into his eyes from the crack in the curtains. He shook his head and swore. That had been one fucked up dream.
As he got out of the bed and grabbed the coffeepot to fill with water he didn't notice Dean roll over on the roll away bed, or the slightly pink scar on his palm and still semi wet imprint of a woman's lips upon his forehead.