Chapter Twenty-one - Resolution
The hour drive took just over thirty minutes as Dean pushed the limits of the Impala's engine. They drove in silence, with neither able to think of anything relevant to say, until they were just on the crest overlooking the town. As they mounted the rise and saw the town lying where it had always been they let out a collective sigh.
Maybe the old coot was just pulling their legs. Maybe he was the one who was crazy.
'Whew, I knew that old coot was crazy. I mean, what other explanation is there?" Dean questioned, at last putting voice to their concerns as relief washed over him.
"Yeah, the old guy sure had us going there, didn't he?" Sam added as nervous laughter erupted in his high pitched cackle.
"I may have to pound some respect into that old fart when we head on back." Dean threatened.
"It's probably just their way of joking around, kinda like a snipe hunt."
"Yeah? Well I'm gonna take that old man on one of our hunts. Then we'll see who's laughing."
They settled back into the comfort of their drive and let the anxiety of the last half hour dissipate, chuckling to themselves at their gullible response to that crazy old fool. Then again, they were the fools who raced back seventy miles just to see what they already knew to be true. Man, with all their experience you'd think they would be the last ones to fall for such a prank.
Dean slowed the car to a respectable speed and proceeded towards town. Off in the distance they saw three riders on horseback heading in. As the riders approached, they were motioned to stop by one rider who broke away and headed in their direction.
Just as their lives appeared to be on an even keel again, the Winchester brothers' descent into the weird twilight zone threatened to reclaim them. The lone rider pulled up to greet them as they exited the car and stood frozen in time, gazing at the rider with their mouths hanging open. In total shock and bewilderment, Dean and Sam stared at the familiar face of their own father; ten years older than the last they had seen him.
"Boys, you better hold up right there." The rider stated.
"Ah, are you Jake?" Sam asked as Dean looked startled at his brother.
"Jake Winchester and you'd be?"
The brothers responded still in awe, collectively wondering if this week could get any weirder.
"Pleasure. Aggie, give you the box?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, but we don't understand. I mean…." Dean questioned.
"Sons, glad to meet you, but I don't have a lot of time. I just want to tell you that good can triumph. Just keep faith. I gotta get back to Aggie now; if I missed the finish she'd kill me, not to mention I'd go crazy without her for ten years."
"Ten years?" Sam questioned.
"Let's just say boys, if you have any questions after you check out the box, I'll be here, ten years from now. All right then. Wish I could have met your dad. You tell him I said howdy." Jake turned and spurred his horse and was off in an instant.
He galloped into town and they saw him fly off his horse and grab Aggie in a tight, passionate embrace. Just as the dust settled from his arrival, the sun seemed to set with a flash and then there was nothing. No Jake, no Aggie, no town, vanished into thin air. Sam looked at Dean, who in turn looked at Sam, both just dazed from this weird turn of events.
Dean reached for his duffle bag on the back seat and grabbed out his EMF detector and turned it on. Silence, no indication of supernatural activity. He wanted to kick himself for not turning it on previously, but strangely enough as weird as all this had seemed, it had never occurred to him. He pondered the possible reasons for that as he silently went to retrieve the wooden box Aggie had given them.
"What do you think is in it?" Sam asked.
"I don't know. I guess we'll just have to open it and see." Dean whispered, still confounded by the course of the day's events.
He carefully placed the box on the trunk of the Impala and slowly opened the lid revealing a leather bound journal. He gently opened the time worn cover and tenderly turned the frayed pages: page upon page of old cursive writing with bizarre drawings of supernatural creatures and notations of exorcisms and spells. A journal just like their dad's only this one dating to the 1860's. He handed the journal to Sam and continued through the box.
Next he found a stack of old tintype photographs neatly secured in a green velvet pouch. He opened the pouch, took out the photos and gazed into his own eyes. The spitting image of himself was all decked out in cowboy regalia staring intently through the years. Handwritten on the back in lovely cursive was Deke Winchester. The next photo was of his brother all decked out in the clothes of a western cowboy with the words Scott Winchester written on the back.
Dean looked at his brother and the old treasured photos and didn't know what to say. What could anyone say at a time like this? The next photo was a mirror image of their dad and dear sweet Aggie, a slightly younger Aggie than had greeted them so warmly just the day before, yet this Aggie was posed on her wedding day with her new husband and the inscription on the back stated: Jake and Aggie Winchester, Wedding Day, December 31, 1886.
There were more photos from that day: Deke and Scott smiling with their dad Jake, Aggie with Gabrielle as her attendant, a group picture of all the Winchesters and the beautiful bride and her friends, and then Deke and Gabrielle snuggled up close and looking like more than friends. A lasting remembrance of a gloriously happy day for the early Winchesters, before evil came that night to destroy their happiness.
The last picture was out of line with the others as it showed a close up of a colt revolver, a unique gun with an angled barrel and Latin phrase engraved on its side. The gun. The special gun Samuel Colt had made back in 1835.
Dean just stared at the picture in disbelief. Man, this was beyond weird. The next item he saw was a handwritten letter. He carefully unfolded the paper and started to read:
We knew you would come when the time was right. That is why we have waited all these years. Evil has always existed, but you can fight and win. We managed to all those years ago. Fight the battle against evil, but don't forget to live your life. You can find peace in your lifetime.
We originally had ten bullets when the gun came into our possession. We used three. Five were left in the case with the gun, but we kept two bullets separate. We knew you would someday need them and come for them. This is your destiny, use them well.
Dean opened a small suede pouch that was the last item left in the box and removed two bullets. He opened his hand to his brother to show him their treasure.
"So what do you make of all this?" Sam asked.
"Dude, I don't know." Dean whispered, distracted in thought.
They stood silently considering all that had happened and what it could all possibly mean. Dean finally broke the silence.
"So, you suppose the town's like Brigadoon? To keep them safe they only appear every ten years?"
"You've watched Brigadoon? That's a musical!" Sam looked shocked.
Dean fumbled to repair his reputation. "It happened to be on one time when I was recovering from an injury. I didn't have a remote and I wasn't exactly hopping around, all right?" He paused to see if his brother was buying his lame excuse before he continued, "Anyways, you suppose that's what we've got here?"
"I don't know, maybe." Sam responded. "You know Brigadoon was based on the mythology of the German town Germelshausen that supposedly disappeared and reappeared later. There have been indications that spells could produce such an effect."
Dean just looked at his brother with amazement.
"How the hell do you remember this stuff? If you focused all that brain power into more important pursuits, like impressing the ladies, you could be awesome. No wonder you never get any action."
"Dean focus, would ya? Do you seriously think we just stumbled into this town? I told you, the town wanted us to come."
'Yeah, I know, but why? I mean….why do these Winchesters look like us? I mean are they relatives…, er ancestors?"
"I don't know if we'll ever know for sure, maybe even reincarnation?"
"Reincarn…, whatever, no man, that's just too weird."
"Still, you did have that dream about Gabrielle. How you gonna explain that?"
"Maybe my latent psychic abilities finally kicked in." Dean grinned at last finding something humorous in their situation, fondly remembering his memorable dream and the feelings it instilled in him. Man, that Deke dude was one lucky guy!
"Yeah? Well let me know when the blinding headaches start."
"Yeah, about that… Guess I'm not really wanting those ghost whisperer abilities; think I'll stick with the good old-fashioned hit 'em with the rock salt approach. I'll leave the psychic wonder stuff to geek boy." Dean flashed his patented cocky grin.
"Yeah, well I wish my psychic abilities could explain this one."
"Yeah, me too. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thinking we gotta be back here in ten years. I'm gonna have some questions for Jake."
"You content to wait ten years for answers?"
"What other options we got Samantha? You gonna twitch your nose and make the whole damn town reappear?"
"Ha, Ha, very funny. No, obviously that's not gonna happen. We might find some answers in this journal."
"Yeah, but if it's like Dad's journal it's not gonna give us a whole lot of family history aside from encounters with evil beings."
"Well, we might get lucky. Might get some info, and we can do some research and see what we dig up."
"Research? I'm guessin' that's your area of expertise there college boy. Let me know what you find out."
"Figures. You know Dean,… you know how to use the computer just like me."
"Yeah, I do. I just don't. Not when I've got my trusty geek boy to handle that little matter. Just let me know what the final verdict is. I'm not up for much of this theorizing, too many possibilities here and too few answers, so again I say, I'm talking to Jake in ten years."
bjxmas September 2006
Weird Weird, a.
1. Of or pertaining to fate; concerned with destiny.
2. Of or pertaining to witchcraft; caused by, or suggesting,
magical influence; supernatural; unearthly; wild; as, a
weird appearance, look, sound, etc.
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Ok, enough with the arm-twisting, thanks for reading.