Chapter 5

Fairview Cemetery

Dean waited in the Impala, his head resting back against the cool leather. It had been decided – under protest – that Sam would be the one to find a way down and wait at the base of the bluff and make a run for the urn while Dean played bait, distracting the witch from above.

He grinned as the entire argument ran through his head.

"Dean, that's a stupid idea."

"Sammy –"

You're already hurt. How long do you think you're gonna last against this thing?"

"Sam –"

"No, I'm not gonna let you –"

"SAM! I appreciate your concern, dude, but you're forgetting one thing."

"What?"

"You're the one who's been touched by an angel. Okay? You're the one who can see the thing."

"Oh, right."

"I'll keep it busy as long as I can, just… don't stop to smell the roses, dude."

Sam hadn't been pleased, but had quickly admitted that Dean was right. Dean, on the other hand, was not particularly looking forward to playing hide and seek with a witch that he couldn't see, but he'd felt it behind him last time, and was banking on being able to somehow sense it again before it used him as a human Frisbee.

He sound of his cell phone brought him back to the present and he quickly flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"I'm set," Sam breathed into the phone. Obviously the descent to the bottom of the bluff had been a bit more strenuous than he'd anticipated. "You're up."

Dean nodded and pushed his door open. "Give me a few minutes and keep your eyes peeled. I don't think we're gonna get a second shot at this."

"Dean," Sam paused, the silence between them saying everything that needed to be said.

"Yeah, you, too." Dean flipped the phone shut, cutting the connection with his brother. He quickly made his way to the fountain, pulling a rosary and a well worn book from his pockets. Flipping the book open to the ear-marked page, Dean held the rosary above the pool of the fountain and began to recite the Latin ritual in a strong, clear voice.

……………………….

Sam huddled behind a rock near the base of the bluff, a few yards away from where he remembered seeing the boat approach before. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the uneasiness that was building in his gut.

His brother was in no shape for this. He was still in pain, Sam could deduce that from the way he'd squinted his eyes in the low light of the motel room. His ribs, while not broken, were also bothering him. Sam had noticed the diagonal marks from where the wrought iron struts from the fence had left impressions, causing his brother's torso to resemble a zebra's back more than a human's.

Of course, Dean had waved off any concern, stating he was fine in typical Winchester fashion. Sam had tried to convince his brother that they should wait, but Dean had wanted to get this over and done. He didn't want to risk the witch getting into anyone else's head, and Sam knew that Dean had meant he didn't want to risk the witch getting a second shot at Sam.

While he appreciated the concern, Sam truly wished that his brother would actually show some kind of concern for his own well being.

Just once.

Of course, he had to pick his battles.

Sam was slowly wearing Dean down on the whole 'saving him from hell' thing. So, even though he was wary of his wounded brother playing tag with an evil water witch for even the few seconds it would take him to destroy the chalice, he had to admit, If someone was gonna piss it off, Dean was the man for the job.

An eerie light out on the surface of the water caught his eye and he ducked down behind the rock, peeking around the edge as the boat came into view. His heart skipped a beat as the boat shimmered into view about ten yards from the shore… it was empty.

……………………….

As Dean uttered the final words of the ritual, he dropped the rosary into the fountain, not knowing exactly what to expect. As he took a step back on the cobblestone walkway, he felt a presence behind him.

Without waiting to establish who or what it was, he quickly dove to his right, rolling and bringing up the shotgun in one smooth movement. He quickly fired one barrel into the space where he'd been, cringing at the shriek that filled the quiet night air.

………………………….

As soon as the boat touched land, Sam scrambled from behind the rock, quickly running across the sandy ground toward the shoreline. He stopped abruptly as the report of a shotgun echoed, followed immediately by a shrill scream.

He couldn't stop the grin that broke across his face.

First point goes to Dean.

As he approached the boat, a form shimmered into view before him and he was brought up short of his goal as his heart lodged itself in his throat. He fell to his knees as the beautiful sight before him smiled, her arm stretched out gracefully toward him, her long blond curls flowing in the breeze.

Sam's mouth was dry and his voice was merely a whisper as he stared wide-eyed at the sight before him. "Jess?"

……………………………

Dean struggled to his feet, his head and ribs protesting the sudden acrobatics. Cracking open the shotgun, he blindly pulled the spend shell from the barrel and replaced it with a fresh cartridge.

He circled the fountain warily, his eyes and ears scanning the silence for any sign of the witch. As he completed his arc with no further incident, a gnawing concern began to work itself from the back of his brain.

"Come on, Sammy," he breathed, his eyes darting back and forth from the fountain to the edge of the bluff. He pulled his phone and hit the speed dial, waiting as the device rang. As soon as it went to his brother's voice mail, he snapped it shut and thrust it into his pocket. "No fucking way." He snapped the shotgun shut and took off at a dean run for the cliff.

……………………………….

Sam barely registered the ringing of his phone, but couldn't tear his eyes from Jessica's form to find it.

"Jess?" he breathed again, reaching his own arm out to her. "How…"

"Come with me, Sam," she smiled. The whites of her teeth were as blinding as the windswept folds of her flowing robe. Her golden curls danced in the breeze as her melodic voice mesmerized him.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, everything inside him wanting – no, needing – to touch her. He stretch his arm, feeling the warmth of her as their hands brushed against each other –

"Sammy!"

The loud report of the shotgun echoed in Sam's ears, and he instinctively threw himself to the ground, covering his head and sand kicked up around him. A shriek filled the air and Sam looked up as Jess's form shimmered, coalescing into the hideous form of the water witch. Her robe was gray and in tatters and her long white hair tangled in the wind. Her skull like face lifted to the air as she let out another wail.

A second shot rang out and the witch vanished.

"Sammy! Move!"

At the sound of Dean's voice, Sam shook himself out of his stupor and dove for the boat. He grabbed the urn that lay on the bottom, near the bow. The water flowed over his hands. The liquid was both warm and cold, giving off an almost electricity as it touched his skin.

Looking up, Sam saw the witch as it suddenly appeared on the top of the cliff behind Dean.

"Dean! Behind you!"

Sam could only watch as his brother turned and let loose with both barrels, the witch once again vanishing from sight.

With a quick glance to make sure Dean was okay, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Focusing on the task at hand, he dashed back to the rocky area under the cliff and raised the urn, forcibly smashing it against the boulder. As the chalice disintegrated upon impact, a howl rose up from the river and a bolt of white lightning tore from the night sky. The lightning zig-zagged it's way through the darkness, seeking its target like a missile. As the bolt connected with the small boat, it exploded into a brilliant display, white fire mixing with the sizzling spray of the water and lighting the shade of the night.

Sam threw himself behind the boulder as the boat exploded, pieces of wood raining down along the shoreline, hissing against the damp sand. It was all over in less than a minute, the silence of the night returning. The sound of the water could once again be heard as it lapped against the shoreline as the trees rustled in the breeze.

"Sammy!"

Sam raised his head and glanced up at the cliff. Through the scant moonlight, he could make out the form of his brother leaning dangerously far over the edge of the bluff.

"I'm okay!" Sam yelled. "Get your ass back before you fall, you moron!"

Dean's relieved laughter echoed down to the shoreline. "You're welcome!"

………………………………

Settle Inn Motel

Sam stuffed the last of his clothes into the duffel and pulled it closed. He tossed it onto the bed, and turned toward the bathroom as his brother breezed through the doorway and crossed the room to the other bed

"All packed?" Dean asked, looking up from his own duffle briefly. They had returned to the motel after finishing off the water witch and both men had agreed that a good nights sleep would be a welcome reward for a job well done.

Sam nodded in answer to his brother's inquiry and sat down sideways on the edge of the bed, one leg pulled up in front of him. His thoughts strayed to the previous night and the vision of Jessica that had almost succeeded in luring him to his death. He was embarrassed that the witch had been able to reel him in so easily.

Dean hadn't commented on the witch's trickery and Sam couldn't help but wonder how his brother felt knowing how easy it had been to disrupt Sam's part of the plan. If it hadn't been for Dean shooting the witch from the cliff…

Sam's brow furrowed as another question formed in his mind.

Dean glanced over, confused at his brother's contemplative stare. "What?"

"How did you see her?"

Dean shook his head, not able to follow his brother's verbal acrobatics this early in the morning. "Huh? See who?"

"Je…" Sam's voice faltered on the name and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Um, the angel. The witch."

Dean shrugged and turned his attention back to his duffle. "I couldn't."

"Then how did you know where to shoot?"

The older man zipped the bag closed and ran a hand over his head. "You were reaching. I figured it was right in front of you, so…" He waved a hand instead of continuing, as if the answer was obvious.

"You guessed."

"No. I deducted."

Sam grinned. "You guessed."

Dean shrugged, returning the grin with one of his own. "Okay. I guessed. But it was an educated guess." Before Sam could argue, he held up a hand to stop him. "I hit it, didn't I?"

Sam sighed, and tilted his head in a gesture of acceptance. "You have got to be the luckiest shot in the world."

Dean grabbed his duffle and hoisted it over his shoulder, trying to hide a slight wince as his ribs protested the action. "Lucky for you." He patted Sam's shoulder as he passed him and headed toward the door. "Besides, even Winchesters deserve a little luck sometimes, dude."

Sam watched his brother open the door and make his way through without a look back. He sighed and grabbed his own bag, pushing himself up from the bed before turning to follow Dean through the door.

"Yeah," he breathed. "You do."

He just hoped they had a little bit left.

The End

The Dark Angel is real. It sits near Fairview Cemetery in Council Bluffs, Iowa, which is counted as one of the most haunted places in the Midwest. The story of Ruth Anne Dodge's dream is also accurate and became the basis of this story. Of course, I don't think the Winchester boys have ever really been there, but a girl can dream.

Thanks so much for reading! Without you guys, there really isn't much point in this… although I do get a kick out of it myself, to be honest. g

Drop me a line and let me know what you thought!