Chapter Text
As Dean and Sam packed up the impala to leave, Cate walked over and handed Dean a satchel, then whispered something in his ear. They hugged for what seemed like a very long time. As they watched her walk back into the house, Dean muttered, "Huh. That's odd."
"What's that Dean," Sam asked, watching him over the roof of the Impala.
"There's a dead bird on Cate's doorstep," he replied.
Sam's face turned pale and he stumbled against the car, "It can't be happening, not this soon."
"Sam? What's wrong? Talk to me!" Dean said in a panic when he saw his brother turning pale, "Sammy?!"
Sam couldn't hear Dean as he rushed back into the house "Cate!?" he yelled, with Dean right behind him, calling his name.
Sam entered the room where he had stayed in for what seemed like days and found Cate on the floor. He knelt down to feel for a pulse. Turning to Dean in shock, he whispered sadly, "She's dead."
Dean’s voice choked up slightly as he knelt over her, fingers caressing her cheek. "Start talking Sammy. What did this to her? And how did you know?" Taking off the small bag of herbs he'd tied with a cord around his neck, he gently placed it around Cate's now lifeless one. "This should protect you from becoming possessed by anything until we can give you a hunter's burial baby," he choked out.
"What the hell is going on here Sam?" Dean asked with a stern yet protective tone, standing and looking at his brother.
Sam could not hide the truth from Dean any longer. With a somber tone he stated "Dean, we need to talk."
"Damn it Sammy! Come on let's get out of here. If that Loa bitch is after you we gotta get you out of Louisiana," Dean muttered, storming out of the house. The boys jumped into the car and began the long drive back to the bunker.
"You don't know if this thing can or will find me, Dean! I'm not safe anywhere." Sam yelled looking out the window
"Yeah well apparently all the things I don't know about you could fill a book. Anything else you want to tell me Sam?!" Dean asked bitterly.
Sam had said nothing. Truth was he was terrified, and he had no idea how to fight this thing. They needed to get back to the men of letters library. That was their only hope to finding out more about the Loas. Sam stared out the window the entire ride to the bunker, not saying anything even when he dragged himself inside. He was still pretty beat up and just wanted to lie down after being cramped up in the car for so long, but knowing his brother that wasn't going to happen until he got his answers and knew Sam was safe.
"I'll make some coffee while you hit the books Sam," Dean called out, walking to the kitchen. He was still pissed, but he loved his little brother, and the sooner they found out more about the Loas, the better chance they had.
Sam nodded and headed to the library, sifting through the books they had on Voodoo.
Dean sipped on his coffee, staring into space, memories swirling in his head. He had considered cooking but just couldn't focus long enough and kept staring into the fridge blankly. Finally he'd stepped into his room to make a quick, and private, call to Garth. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he went back to pour the coffee and take some to Sam, less fidgety now that he knew Cate would be properly cared for and burned. He had been heartbroken, leaving her behind that way, but he knew they had to leave quickly for their own safety.
When Dean returned with two mugs of steaming liquid, Sam’s head was down reading a leather-bound book intently. It appeared old, like barely post-civil war old.
"Marie Laveau, 1794 to 1881. She was a conjure woman and a voodoo priestess in Louisiana. And it says here she advised the men of letters for many years," Sam said, looking up from the book.
"I've heard of her," Dean said, "Probably one of the most powerful Priestesses ever, and very well known." Sam raised his brows and let his mouth fall open in shock.
"Hey, I read. Does it say where she's buried??" Dean asked setting down the two mugs of coffee and reading over his brother’s shoulder.
"She's buried in a cemetery in New Orleans, but she was said to have perfected astral projection way before its time. She could appear to anyone who drew this sigil," Sam explained, turning the book to show the crudely drawn sigil towards Dean.
Dean looked down at the picture, "This looks exactly like the one Cate drew, right?"
"Okay. Let's summon this witch, "Dean said proudly, rubbing his hands together.
Sam furrowed his brow, "Voodoo priestess, "he corrected. His older brother ignored him and grabbed the book, reading over the ritual for summoning Marie Laveau.
Dean scattered the brick dust and graveyard dirt in a circle around the sigil they had painted on the floor in blood. As Dean bandaged his hand and groused about always being the sacrificial lamb, Sam lit a blue candle in the middle of the circle and recited the incantation.
Sam looked over at his brother with worry in his hazel eyes. He knew that Dean had been right at the house when they’d found Cate. They needed to be honest with each other because half-truths and lies got them into more trouble than anything else. They had been through too much to continue down that road.
A thought occurred to the tall man suddenly, "You loved her didn't you?"
Dean jolted at the question, "What?"
"You loved Cate, that's why you are so bent out of shape," Sam said. “You’re grieving for her.”
Dean didn't look at Sam for a while then finally an answer spilled out in a broken voice, "I was going to ask her to marry me once. Look Sam, I'd appreciate it if we just left that conversation for another time. Let’s just do this, ok?”
Sam nodded in agreement, and with that both of them fell silent, although Dean’s answer threw Sam off more than he cared to admit.
All the lights in the bunker flashed and the candle in the center of the circle billowed with smoke that formed the shape of a woman then dissipated. Marie emerged from the smoke and looked at Sam and Dean.
"Hello boys," she smiled.
Sam turned pale at the sight of her and Dean moved in front of Sam to protect him, "We want answers, now!"
Marie threw her hand up casually and Dean was thrown back onto the floor. His limbs were heavy and he was unable to move. "Calm yourself, babe. I know why you brought me here. Gotta say though, the Men of Letters could use an interior decorator," the Priestess said, looking around.
Sam huffed and looked desperately at his brother to make sure he was okay. Dean was fine, save for his bruised ego.
"We just want some answers, ok?" Sam asked in a quiet voice when in fact he was terrified of her.
Marie glared at Sam, and then began to choke him without as much as a warning from three feet away. Her hands gripped tight towards the big man, and he fell to the ground gasping for air.
"Please!" Sam choked out.
Marie cackled and the lights above them shattered. She released Sam and looked at him like a child pulling the wings off of an insect.
"You want to know if I can save you. Of course I can. But why should I? As I see it you boys have been welshing your debts for years."
"Yeah well you're not looking too young and hot yourself bitch!" Dean called out to Marie. "Why don't you pick on someone your own height?" Dean said as he stood up warily.
Marie ignored Dean and made her way to Sam. Touching his skin he doubled over and sank to the floor. Dean lunged at her again but fell back immediately with a simple flick of her wrist.
"I'm helping him you ape. Stay there," she snarled.
Dean watched in horror. "Bitch, what are you doing to him!? Looks to me like you're trying to kill him!" he shouted at Marie with anger and frustration.
Sam looked down at his stomach and lifted his shirt. The wounds were gone, but there on his ribcage, the little symbol remained.
"There. You are perfectly fine, just as God made you. But a piece of you belongs to me now. That symbol is a reminder to both of you. Don't cross the paths of the Loas again. They won't be as understanding a second time.” And in a flash of smoke she was gone
Dean ran over to Sam, "Sammy!? Are you alright?" Dean said, finally noticing the mark, "What the hell is that?"
"It’s a reminder, and a warning. She healed me Dean, but I don't think we've seen the last of the Loas." Sam said, seeming more concerned than relieved. Being indebted to any supernatural being never ended well.
"What do you mean??" Dean asked, clearly confused, angry, and worried
"It means that I'm ok for now. I just don't like the idea of being indebted to Marie Laveau. The mob would be easier," Sam muttered, pulling himself up off the floor.
Dean looked him over. "Yeah well, we've got enough problems. Let's not add to it Scarface. So what now?" he asked.
"Well, for starters you can explain Cate. You loved her enough to want to pop the question yet I've never heard you mention her. What the hell happened?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed, sliding into a chair wearily. He knew this was coming and just wanted to get it over with so he could be alone with his memories of her and muggy Louisiana nights under the stars.
"It happened while you were at Stanford. Dad and I chased a nest of vamps all the way down to New Orleans. I got jumped and messed up pretty bad during the fight. You know how Dad felt about doctors and hospitals. He called Bobby instead, who told him to take me to this healer in Jefferson Parish named Miss Emma. She was Cate's grandmother," Dean said, running fingers through his hair.
"Dad dumped me there and went after the vamps he'd had to let go of because of me. I ended up staying for three months and Dad was pretty pissed. I would've stayed even longer if Bobby hadn't come to get me."
Sam could tell this was difficult for Dean, so he sat across from him at the library table quietly and waited for him to continue.
"Cate was just 19 then and Cora was a little kid, following us around everywhere. Once I was patched up and started to feel better, Miss Emma decided I needed something to do with my time so she made me Cate's apprentice. I learned how to make charms and dry herbs and pulled more weeds in her garden than I care to think about," Dean grinned, thinking back.
His smile faded and he looked down at his hands, "Cate and I just had this connection from the beginning. She was strong and fearless and so smart. For once there was someone who knew me, what I did and who I was, and she wasn't scared. Miss Emma saw it. She wasn't thrilled at the idea of watching her 'baby girl' take off with some hunter, but she said she could tell there was love. And she knew I would take care of her and guard her with my life."
Dean looked up at Sam, eyes hinting at tears. "Do you remember that silver ring I used to wear?" He asked, pointing at his right hand. Sam nodded, afraid to speak and break the spell that had come over his tough big brother, compelling him to spill his story.
Dean looked back at his right hand and rubbed the now bare finger gently. "That was hers. I'd bought it for her with the little bit of money I'd managed to hustle. Wasn't much, but I knew she'd like it," he whispered.
"I kept it, burning a hole in my pocket for two days. It was the end of summer, hot and muggy, hurricane season. We prepped the house when we heard one was coming in, but it still did some damage. Miss Emma started taking in people from all over the neighborhood that needed help or just a hot meal. We all pitched in to help," he said, with a faraway look in his eyes.
"I got a call from Dad in the middle of it all. He needed me back on the road to go after... something, and he was sending Bobby to get me. I didn't want to leave without her, so that night I pulled her out to the garden and asked her."
Dean smiled softly at the memory, remembering the sounds of crickets and the dog barking and voices coming from the house in the distance. He would never forget the look on her face when he’d dropped to one knee like he’d seen in the movies and asked her to marry him. Or the tears that trailed down her face when she had said no.
"I should have known better," he said quietly, as Sam reached over and handed him his half-cold cup of coffee. Dean sniffed at it then downed it all in one gulp. "She couldn't leave with me. Not because she was scared but because she had responsibilities, to her grandmother and sister and to the neighborhood that relied on their knowledge. I understood. Hell, if there's anything I understand, it's family and responsibility.
Dean shrugged off the empty feeling clawing at his heart and finished the story quickly. "We agreed to stay in touch, to see what would happen. Maybe when Cora was older she could take over for her. But it just didn't work out. Bobby picked me up the next day and our calls slowly became further apart and eventually stopped altogether."
Rubbing the ring finger on his right hand, Dean stood up and stretched and looked at Sam shyly. "I realized later that I had been so nervous buying her ring, I hadn't stopped to think what size I should buy. Turned out it fit me, so I started wearing it, to remind me of her," he said, picking up his empty cup and walking to the kitchen.
"Dean?" Sam asked. "What happened to it? Why did you stop wearing it?"
Dean looked back towards Sam and tilted his head. "I stopped wearing it because as time wore on, I felt I was just holding on to false hope the more I looked at it," he explained.
Sam looked at Dean in shock. "Dean! You loved her and from what I could see when I wasn't loopy or unconscious, it was obvious that she still loved you too. I'm going to just say this, no matter how long it's been for the both of you, love like that doesn't just go away. It stays with you. It's transcendent," he ground out, a pained expression on his face. It spoke volumes to the fact that Sam knew exactly what he was talking about. Dean had memories of Cate’s love, and he had his of his beautiful Jess.
Dean broke the small silence. "What are you a poet? Aren't poets usually like crazy?" Dean asked, moving his hands in circles next to his head.
Sam managed to laugh at the stupidity that is his brother. "Well then that explains everything about you then doesn't it?" he asked, watching Dean start to smile.
"Jerk" Sam said jokingly.
"Bitch" Dean replied back.
There was another small silence before Sam spoke up again. "So you just took that ring off and did away with it?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed. "It's around in a safe place. Look Sam, I wanna get something off my chest while we’re baring our souls here. I didn't tell you and I'm not sorry that I didn't. Some things just...”
"Need to be kept?" Sam finished off.
"Yeah," Dean replied in a somber tone, "But Sammy that's no excuse to go back to half-truths and lies. Got it?" Dean lectured.
"Yeah, I got it." Sam replied.
Dean stood up. "C’mon Shakespeare let's get out of here. We’ve got another case." Dean said in his smart ass tone.
"You know it's been said that Shakespeare never really wrote all those plays," Sam said.
"Yeah well, whatever dude. Aren't you just a Jolly-Green-know-it-all?" Dean groused, rolling his eyes.
"At least I can admit it," Sam shot back playfully to Dean.
"Are you going to be this much of a pain in the ass to me for the next few hours?" Dean asked.
"Depends on where we are headed," Sam smiled, walking through the garage and folding himself into the Impala.
"This is going to be a long drive." Dean sighed, buckling up. As the car drove out of the bunker’s garage, Sam made one last comment about their journey to New Orleans.
"It's too bad we never found that Shane guy that Cora and her mother were trying to save her from. When you think about it, this pretty much is all his fault." Sam said in an irritated tone.
"Hey Sammy don't worry about it, I'm sure that this Shane guy will get what's coming to him," Dean said with a sly smile. Sam looked at Dean inquisitively, but his brother had already slipped on his sunglasses and started singing along to the radio.
Little did Sam know that while Dean had been making a bag of protection for him, he'd also put together a little hex bag. This Shane sounded like just the kind of douche to take advantage of the family being gone. At some point he’d decide to see what he could lift of value from the place, and when he did, Dean's little gift would be waiting.