Croatoan by Nikki Hall (ereader android .TXT) 📕

We pulled into a motel, the cheap kind I usually stay away from. Sam looked over at me as Dean got out of the car to go inside. "You okay back there?" he asked. I had been quiet most of the ride. He obviously took that as meaning there was something wrong with me. "Ares?" He just wouldn't stop prying, would he?
"I was just thinking about what Dean said about John," I admitted. "It's a little hard to think about John making a deal with any Demon. Even if it was to save Dean's life, that's just not like him. And, what is your brother thinking? I'm pretty sure he's got some kind of inner turmoil going on since he was the reason John made the deal. Dean's got to hate himself right now." Sam nodded.
"He's not going to talk about it, either." Sam looked me in the eyes. "When he's upset, you can't tell because he hates to do that." I nodded my understanding. I knew the feeling.

"OK," Dean said when he got back to the car. "We got a room complete with an extra bed. I don't really care who sleeps where." I looked down at the roll-away cot and, in a moment of true cat-like joy, pounced on it. "I call this bed." I said. Sam looked at me. "I was going to let you have the actual bed," he said.
"I like beds closer to the floor. I sometimes change form in my sleep, and I tend to roll a lot. I don't want to fall that far," I said. Sam smiled and Dean chuckled. "You know," he said. "This is one of the few motels that do

allow pets." I laughed. I was beginning to appreciate his strange sense of humor. Sam shrugged and smiled. "OK, I'm going to sleep for a while. We've got time off, and I plan on using it to my advantage!" He collapsed on the bed and I couldn't help but notice how much sweeter he looked asleep.

I was awakened by Sam moaning and tossing in his sleep. I hadn't changed yet, thankfully, so I sat up and looked at him. He jolted upright, right before I got up to see if he was OK.
"Sam?" I whispered. "Was it a vision?"
"Yeah," he said. "Where's Dean?"
"Went out to get something to eat. And pick up a few beers." Sam started rubbing his forehead, a gesture that I would learn meant he was nervous. "I don't want to say anything til he gets back." His voice was a whisper. "I want to tell you both at the same time." I nodded. It was only fair.

A few minutes later, Dean came in and saw how pale Sam was. "Vision?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "All right, let's go." I looked up, surprised. Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I paid for last night," he said. "So, we can check out now." I nodded and picked up my black duffel bag. I threw it in the trunk and slid into the backseat.
"So, where was it?" Dean asked.
"Rivergrove, Oregon. There are only two towns in the U.S. with that name."
"How do you know it's the one in Oregon?" I asked him.
"There was a picture of Crater Lake."
"OK, what else?"
"I saw dark rooms – people, and a guy tied to a chair."
"OK, did I kill him?" Dean asked. His voice was strained. I could tell that he was bothered by that part of the vision.
"You thought there was something inside him."
"What, a demon? Was he possessed?"
"I don't know," Sam sighed. I was starting to get worried too. I had felt that Dean wouldn't just kill an innocent man, but you never know. Humans are tricky.
"Well all your visions are tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow. So was there any black smoke, did we try to exorcise it?" Dean was getting agitated, and I tactfully kept my mouth shut.
"No, no, nothing. You – you just plugged him, that's it." There was an uncomfortable silence afterward. I could feel the tension rolling off the two, so I sat back. I didn't want to get in the middle of this.
"Well I'm sure I had a good reason." Dean kept his eyes on the road. He didn't want to look at anyone, and I could tell that he was bothered. Not because I was in the car; they had gotten used to that. He was bothered because--well, I'm not sure why he was so bothered.
"I sure hope so," I muttered. Dean looked back at me for a moment before turning back to the road. "What does that mean? I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man." He was being defensive. I liked that better than the silence that usually lapsed between us all. "I wouldn't!" he added for emphasis.
"I never said you would," I said a little defensively. "Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair is part of it. So let's find him, and find out what's what." Dean and Sam nodded. "Fine," they both said in unison. I almost laughed. Typical brotherly argument. "Thanks for taking my side," Sam said to me.
"I wasn't taking sides," I said. "I was making a point."

We pulled into the town, and Sam pointed to a sign. "That's one of the signs in my vision," he muttered. I looked at it. Something told me that our lives wouldn't ever be the same after today.
We parked alongside the sidewalk, and there was a man sitting on his porch with a fishing rod. It looked like a Shakespeare Durango, to me, but I'm not the best fishing rod judge. Sam nodded in his direction. "He was there," he murmured to us. Dean nodded and we headed over to him. Dean and Sam looked a little like Marshals, or even cops. I didn't. I looked like an army brat with my camouflage pants, black T-shirt, and combat boots. My black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and I only wore a simple gold chain with a golden locket on it. The locket held a picture of my mother and sister, but no one would ever see it.
"Can I help you?" the man asked us.
"Uh, yeah. Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, and Danielle Parsons, US Marshalls," Dean replied, pulling out his fake badge.
"What's this about, Marshall?" he asked Dean.
"We need your help in locating someone," I said.
"Early twenties," Sam said, thinking back to his vision. "With a thin scar right below his hairline."
"Huh, what did he do?" the man asked us. That took me by surprise. "Nothing," I said. "We're actually looking for someone else, but we think he could help us out."
"He's not in any kind of trouble. Not yet," Dean said, and then noticed a tattoo of a coat of arms on the man's arm. "I think maybe you know who he is, Master Sergeant." The man gave Dean a funny look, then he explained. "My dad was in the same corps. He was a Corporal."
"Can you help us?" Sam asked.
"The only person I know with a scar like that is Dwayne Tanner, and he keeps his nose clean."
"I'm sure he does," Dean said. "Do you know where he lives?"
"He lives with his family that way, about two blocks down," Sarge, as I began to know the man, said.

We walked back to the car, and I bumped into a telephone pole. I nudged Sam and pointed to the pole. "Croatoan," Sam said. He looked at Dean who had a vacant look in his eyes. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring any bells?" Dean continued to look lost.
"Did you pay any attention in history class?" I asked. "Roanoke was one of the first American colonies in the late 1500s."
"Oh yeah yeah yeah. I do remember that," Dean said. "The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan." I nodded. "Hallelujah, the man has a brain," I said. Dean shot me a dirty look, and I winked back at him.
"Yeah. There were theories, Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. Wiped out over night," Sam said.
"You think that's going to happen here?" I asked him.
"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good," he replied. "But what do you think could do that?"
"Well like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow eyed demon somehow," Dean sighed. "We might need some help on this."
"Uh, Bobby? Ellen maybe?"
"That's a good idea," Dean said pulling out his cell. "Damn," he said, flipping it shut. "No signal."
Sam and I both pulled out our cells. They were newer, so I figured we'd get one. No luck. "We don't have one either," Sam said.
Dean tried a pay phone nearby, but still nothing. "I'll tell you one thing," Dean said, "If I was gonna massacre a town? That'd be my first step." That creeped me out a little.


When we got to the Tanners' place, Dean knocked on the door. I had changed into some black slacks, so I'd look a little more like a Marshall. A younger guy answered the door, and I figured he was Dwayne's brother. He looked a little like the guy that Sam described, just younger and minus the scar. We held up our badges, and Dean took over the conversation