When the pounding began on Deja's door, she didn't immediately respond, confusing it for the pounding in her head as she came to. She groaned, burying her face into her pillows for a few seconds before she pushed herself up onto her elbows, keeping her pounding head in the pillows.

"Hold on," she called, grimacing at how wrecked she sounded. It was indeed a nasty hangover, and as she tried to maneuver herself to sit upright the world spun.

"Are you all right in there?" she distantly heard Dean's voice ask from beyond the door while she braced herself against the bed.

"Yeah, just…a little hungover…give me a minute to get to the door," she answered. Once she was certain she wouldn't trip over herself she got to her feet and made her way to the door, removing the chain and unlocking the door before she turned away and started making her way to the bathroom sink. "It's open," she called over her shoulder as she moved. Once she reached the sink she washed out last night's glass and filled it with water instead, making her way to her back and searching for her Midol.

Dean stepped inside after her invite, honing in on her and letting out a low whistle. "You look terrible."

"Thanks, Dean, that's what every woman wants to hear," she muttered as she managed to find the little pill bottle and started fighting the lid. Dean watched her struggle for a few seconds before stepping forward and pulling the bottle for her grasp, earning a frustrated sigh from her.

"What did you do, put the local bar out of stock?" Dean asked as he easily opened the bottle and returned it to her hands.

"I hit the tequila a little too hard," she said simply, popping the pill in her mouth and taking a large drink of her water. "There, that should help the headache…"

Dean studied her closely. "I thought you only hit your tequila storage on hard cases."

"Mm," Deja hummed in acknowledgement, taking another drink.

"I don't remember anything about the asylum being particularly difficult."

"Nah, the job wasn't hard…and before you suggest it, it wasn't you or Sam either. I'll let you know if you two drive me to drink," she told him with a chuckle. "Oh…no, it was just a rough night, and I drank a little more than I should have."

"Well…next time you want to hit the bottle, how about you tell me so I can be the drinking buddy that keeps you from ending up smashed like this the next morning," Dean told her, sounding like a scolding parent.

"I'll take it under consideration," Deja replied, downing the rest of her water. "So…while I wait for the medicine to kick in…what brings you to my sad display of The Morning After?"

Dean snickered. "You're missing the dead body for that."

Deja pointed a finger at him. "I'm pretty sure you're about to supply me with one. You've already got another case, don't you?"

Dean took up a position across from her, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, we do. Dad just called us, and he gave us some names."

"Wait, he called this time?" Deja asked, holding the cold glass to her forehead as she gazed at Dean. Dean nodded, and Deja was torn between asking if they were able to get anything out of their dad and asking about the job. "Did he mention anything other than the case, did he say where he was, what he was doing?"

Dean sighed, looking rather agitated. There must have already been conflict brewing between him and Sam over this one phone call. "Not really—he's hunting the thing that killed our mom, the demon that killed her, so he couldn't tell us where he is…and he asked us not to look for him. But I'd rather focus on the job he gave us right now."

Deja inclined her head, deciding Sam was probably giving Dean enough grief already over all of this. "Okay, I just wanted to ask first. So, these names—what did you and Sam find out?"

"They're three different couples from different towns, different states—Washington, New York, Colorado—who all went missing. They each took a road trip cross-country, didn't arrive at their destination, and were never heard from again."

Deja stood, headed for the sink again. "I'm guessing there's something else to go on other than couples who went missing on a road trip."

Dean stayed where he was standing, watching her as she moved about the motel room. "All of their routes on their trips took them through the same part of Indiana, always on the second week of April, one year after another after another."

"And this is the second week of April now…considering that sounds rather ritualistic, I'm guessing we're going to prevent another disappearance." Deja sighed, waiting until her glass was full to turn back around, leaning in the doorway to look at Dean. "If we're going to make it to Indiana in time to actually stop something from happening we're going to have to haul some ass."

"Exactly. Think you're going to be good to drive? I'm sure it won't hurt if you leave whenever you're ready, you'll catch up soon enough," Dean suggested. Deja waved a hand.

"Nah, I'll leave with you—I'll be fine once my medicine kicks in. That's the only part that's really killing me is the headache."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Dean said slowly. "Don't wreck your car or anything trying to push yourself, all right?"

"Dean, relax. I know my limits. This hangover sucks, but I'll be ready to go, don't worry."

Dean rolled his eyes, watching her for a few moments before he spoke again. "How's the, uh…" He paused, searching for a word before he gave up on the attempt and switched tracks. "Sam said you hit the shelf pretty hard."

"Oh, that," Deja laughed. "I'm definitely bruised, a little sore, but I'll live—my hangover sucks more than the bruises, honestly. How's his head."

Dean groaned dramatically. "He keeps whining and complaining, going on and on about how much it hurts! He even asked me to put him out of his misery."

Deja laughed again. "In other words, he's fine. Good to know."

"There really is a bump, though, you almost can't tell cause of his shaggy hair, but his hair sticks out oddly around it." Dean smiled when that drew another laugh from her, then straightened from his spot against the wall. "Well, I'll leave you to your recovery—go ahead and knock on our door when you're fit to leave."

"Will do," Deja promised, and Dean let himself out of the room as she started to pack up what belongings were laying about.

**************************

Deja almost drove on without Sam and Dean.

She was driving ahead of the two for once, and Sam was driving the Impala behind her. It was dark, and they'd been on the road for several hours by now. Still, she'd had no warning that the Impala had stopped, just happening to glance in her driver's side mirror and notice the Impala wasn't there any more. Worried, Deja did a quick U-turn and started back at a slow pace until she saw the Impala again. It was parked off the side of the road, and Sam and Dean were still inside. Deja's headlights set the car aglow enough that she could see Sam and Dean talking heatedly inside. Grimacing, Deja pulled off the other side of the road directly across from them, unsure if she should simply stay in the car and wait for the argument to be over or get out of the car and see what was going on.

That decision was made for her when suddenly Sam got out of the car, prompting her to do the same, especially when a few seconds later Dean was getting out as well. The air was charged with tension, and her frown deepened.

"You're a selfish bastard. You know that?" Dean told Sam sharply as Sam opened the trunk of the Impala. Dean's tone made Deja stay with her car, though she was watching the exchange with furrowed brows. "You just do whatever you want, you don't care what anybody thinks."

"That's what you really think?" Sam asked, pulling his backpack onto his back.

"Yes, it is," Dean said firmly, jaw clenched.

Sam scoffed in disbelief, grabbing two more bags out of the trunk. "Well, this selfish bastard is going to California."

As if Deja wasn't already surprised enough, Sam started to walk in the opposite direction.

"Come on, you're not serious," Dean scoffed.

"I am serious," Sam replied without looking back.

"It's the middle of the night!" Dean shouted at him. Sam didn't reply and simply continued to walk. "Hey, I'm taking off. I will leave your ass, you hear me?"

Sam finally turned around, raising his arms in a clear I don't care gesture. "That's what I want you to do."

Dean and Sam stared at each other for several long moments, neither of them budging before something in Dean shifted. "Goodbye, Sam," Dean said stiffly, pulling the key out of the trunk's lock, slamming it shut, getting in the car, and peeling away. Sam watched him driving away, then looked at Deja expectantly as she stood frozen on the side, trying to decide what to do.

"You should probably go before you fall behind," Sam called, turning away to continue walking in the opposite direction.

"Sam…" Deja said, though Sam didn't reply, so she started moving towards him and called a little louder. "Sam."

Sam turned around. "I'm not going with him. Our dad's somewhere in California, I'm going to go find him, I don't care if he ordered us not to," Sam said heatedly as Deja finally reached him.

"I'm not trying to stop you," Deja soothed, heaving a sigh and glancing in the direction of the Impala's route. The road was veiled with fog, so she had to speak quickly before she fell too far behind. "Look…you do what you think is right, always do what you think is right, I'm not saying differently. Just be careful, okay? Watch yourself. And keep walking if you end up at a crossroads, don't go making any demon deals," she finished with a small laugh.

That earned a smile from Sam, and he shifted his duffel bag on his arm. "Thanks."

Deja smiled, clapping him on the arm briefly. "I mean it, Sam, take care. Call if you need anything. And…" Deja hesitated, scratching absently at her ear before she decided to go for it. "Cut your brother some slack, okay? He's trying his best, and from what I've seen he's a damn good older brother. You're lucky to have him."

"Well, if he'd take some responsibility and stop blindly following orders," Sam said irritably, starting to turn away.

"He does have a mind of his own, Sam," Deja said quietly, daring to draw upon what was said in the asylum. She waited until Sam turned to face her again to continue. "And he's doing what he thinks is right. As for responsibility, he's your older brother, Sam, to him you're his responsibility, and always will be."

"How would you know?" Sam asked tersely, obviously not wanting to hear this right now.

"Because I had an older brother. And I was an ungrateful younger sibling that didn't realize just what he did for me, how much I had meant to him, until it was too late," Deja said flatly, holding his gaze with unrelenting intensity. The shock on Sam's face was astounding, but Deja didn't stop there. "He's trying, Sam, he really is. And being stuck in a middle ground between another sibling and a parent is Hell in normal circumstances, I'm willing to bet it's even worse in a hunting family. So, yes, cut him some slack."

Deja sighed, looking down at her feet. "I have to go before I fall too far behind. Take care, Sam. Tell us when you reach Cali," Deja finished before she turned and made her way back to Rosanne, starting her up and making a tight U-turn to get back on the road.

***************************

Dean slowed down considerably when he reached the winding roads of Burkitsville, Indiana, glancing back for the thousandth time to see Deja's Corvette right behind him. When he'd left Sam on the side of the road, he'd glanced back at some point and realized that Deja's car wasn't right behind him. For a few tense minutes, Dean thought that both of them had left him, and that thought hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

The relief he felt when eventually Deja's car reappeared behind him…well, the fact that he kept looking back to make sure the white Stingray was still there spoke for itself.

Dean parked the Impala on the side of the road next to a gazebo just before a small strip of stores, a café on his left and a general store right across the road in front of him. Before he'd even turned off the engine, he reached into his coat pocket for his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he landed on Sam. Dean looked at his brother's picture for a few moments, thumb hovering over the call button before he decided against it, snapping the phone shut and shoving it into his pocket before shutting off the engine and getting out of the car.

Deja had reached the back-left door by the time Dean got out of the car, so he didn't need to wait for her, giving her a small half smile. "Maybe we'll finally get some luck with this town," she offered, returning Dean's smile.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, though after several busts he wasn't going to get his hopes up. "Let's start at Scotty's."

The pair made their way towards the small café, noting an older man who was sitting in a chair out front. As they approached, the man turned his attention towards them, his expression morphing from what had been a deep scowl to a bright—and in Dean's opinion, completely fake—smile, standing up from his chair.

"Can I help you folks?" he asked pleasantly, looking between Dean and Deja. Dean and Deja shared a glance, Deja giving him a little half-shrug to tell him to go ahead and speak.

"Um, yeah, I'm John Bonham," Dean gestured to Deja.

"I'm Lisbeth Salander," she said.

"Scotty," the man said, holding his hand out for them to shake. He pointed at Dean. "Isn't John Bonham the drummer for Led Zeppelin?"

Dean was taken aback for a moment, and beside him, Deja laughed under her breath. "Wow…good. Classic-rock fan," Dean said with a small laugh, brushing off the incident with ease.

"He doesn't hear that nearly as much as he should," Deja chipped in with a smile. Dean wanted to return with a good comeback, knowing she was making a jab at him and Sam using rock star alias all the time, but he wasn't going to blow their cover for a witty remark.

"What can I do for you two?" Scotty asked.

Dean reached into his coat pocket, unfolding the missing persons' flyers they'd been showing of the couple that disappeared last year.

"Have you seen these people by any chance?" Deja asked as Dean handed the flyers over. Scotty looked at the two papers briefly before handing them back.

"Nope. Who are they?"

"They're friends of ours—went missing about a year ago."

Deja nodded. "They came somewhere through here on a road trip. We already asked around Scottsburg and Salem, so here we are."

Scotty shook his head. "Sorry I can't help you, I've never seen them. We don't get many strangers around here."

"That's too bad," Deja said with a sweet smile. "It looks like a nice café you have here."

Scotty straightened proudly. "I like to think so. You know, the weather's cold and wet today, so if you need a place to warm up just stop on by—we've got the best apple pie in the state."

"Well, I think I know where we're going to eat," Dean said simply.

"Later," Deja chided him, pulling at his sleeve. "Come on, we need to keep asking."

"Right, but later—"

"You can get some pie," Deja said with a roll of her eyes. "Now come on," Deja said, pulling him away from Scotty and towards the next closest building down the current side of the street.

***********************

"You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?"

Deja and Dean had checked store after store after store, flashing the flyers and hoping that someone would say that they recognized the couple in the photo. Everyone was being nice to them, which was starting to get a little creepy because literally everyone was being nice to them. Despite all the manners, everyone swore they hadn't seen the couple, though there were a few people Dean wasn't convinced were telling the truth.

Now Deja and Dean stood side by side in the general store that also acted as a gas station and repair shop, speaking to the older couple who owned the shop.

"Nope, don't remember them," the man said. "You say they were friends of yours?"

"That's right," Dean said with a nod. Surprisingly, his answer came from the stairwell as a blonde young woman descended the stairs, a stack of boxes in her arms.

"Did the guy have a tattoo?"

Deja and Dean both looked up, caught off guard. "He did," Deja said, and as the young woman drew nearer Dean handed her the flyers. She only had to look at the flyers for a second before looking back at the store owners and shoving the flyers their way.

"You remember? They were just married," she said with a note of exasperation. Dean looked at the couple who owned the shop, watching closely as the man put his fist to his mouth thoughtfully, looking at the papers with brows furrowed.

"You're right. They did stop for gas—weren't here more than ten minutes."

Finally, a lead!

"Do you remember anything else?" Dean asked out loud.

"Well, I told them how to get back to the interstate. They left town."

"Could you point us in that same direction?" Dean asked.

"Sure," the man said. "Take Laski straight out of town, and turn right on orchard road."

"Thank you so much," Deja said with a smile, though it seemed a little strained. She must have still felt awkward about the pair mistaking them for a couple at first. "Come on, John, looks like we're leaving town."

Dean frowned. "I thought we were going to grab a bite to eat at Scotty's before we left?"

"You just want the pie," Deja teased with a small smirk.

"Well, yeah!" Dean said incredulously.

Deja turned to the couple with a laugh. "I saw the sign said you're a bakery, too? Any chance you have any apple pies?"

The older woman smiled at Deja. "Of course, dear. The apples come from the same place Scotty's does."

Deja fished out her wallet. "One whole pie to go, then."

Dean looked at her in shock. "Whoa, D—Lisbeth, you don't have to do that, really, I can pay for it myself if I—"

"Oh, just shut up and take the free pie," Deja said in exasperation, handing her credit card over to the older man to run while his wife packed up a whole…piping hot...apple pie.

I think I'm in love with this woman.

Deja took the white box from the older woman, who was smiling at Deja knowingly as she pushed the box into Dean's hand.

"Now I better not ever hear you say I've never done anything for you," she said seriously.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied, still surprised that she'd bought him a whole pie without a second thought. "You are a saint."

"And don't you forget it. C'mon, let's go."

Dean didn't even argue, he simply followed her out the door with his hot pie in hand.

"So, what brought on buying me a pie?" Dean asked as they made their way to the cars. Deja shrugged.

"You looked like a kicked puppy when I suggested leaving without getting any pie. It made me feel guilty, damn it. Just don't expect this to become a thing," Deja muttered, flipping through her keys. Dean watched her for a moment, noticing how tense she was.

"Are you all right? You seem tense…and eager to leave this place behind, might I add."

Deja looked up at him, key in hand. "These people…I've lived in a small town before, smaller than this—we only had a café, post office, and a bank. They're too nice. No place is this perfect. It's like something out of a horror movie, maybe a Stephen King work."

"Yeah, I've noticed they tend to be too nice myself…" Dean replied, putting the pie safely in the passenger seat of the Impala.

"And did you notice how quickly that couple in the general store became indifferent once they realized we weren't a couple?" Deja pointed out.

"You think this is where our couples have been vanishing," Dean said, jumping to the end of her current line of thought.

"I'm starting to wonder, yes. And if not here, then someplace really close to here," Deja finished.

"We should get moving, then," Dean replied, getting in the Impala and hearing Deja get in her Corvette behind him. Dean glanced sadly at the pie before he pulled back onto the road.

It was probably going to be cold by the time he got to cut into it.

**************************

They hadn't been on the road long when Dean heard something going off in the back seat, and he had to do a double take before he realized he was hearing his EMF reader.

"What the Hell?" he muttered, trying to pull the EMF out of his duffel back while driving. After several failed attempts, he pulled over to the side of the road, Deja coasting to a stop in front of him while he reached back to get the EMF. When he pulled it out of the duffel, it was lighting up like crazy, the buzz nearly constant. Deja got out of the car ahead of him, though Dean got out of his car before she could reach him.

"My EMF is going crazy," Dean told her, lifting the device so she could see. Deja's brows furrowed, and she looked around at their surroundings, as did Dean. Both their gaze fell on the orchard on the right side of the road at about the same time, and Deja sighed.

"Of course…let's go check out the orchard," she said with a shake of her head.

"C'mon," Dean said, tucking the EMF away and taking the lead as they crossed the road and hopped the fence to get inside the orchard. Dean noticed when Deja walked a little closer to him than normal, arms wrapped around herself as she looked around at the orchard, gaze never lingering in one place for very long. However, it was Deja who brought it up, not him.

"This place is giving me Children of the Corn vibes, and I hate it," she muttered with a noticeable shudder.

"That's a good movie," Dean said absentmindedly, continuing to weave through the trees.

"That movie scarred me when I was a kid," she replied bitterly.

Dean gave her a look very similar to when she said ghosts freak her out. "Really? That movie scarred you?"

Deja glared at him. "When I first saw that movie, I lived in a town of just over three hundred people, in a farming community, cornfields everywhere including in town, and with a lot of creepy kids that didn't like adults. So yes, it did a number on me at the time."

"Scaredy-cat," Dean muttered, turning his attention forward again.

"I will take that pie back."

"Over my dead body," Dean scoffed.

"Keep at it and that might just happen," Deja muttered.

"When did you get so grumpy? We started this day just fine."

"When we started traipsing through an empty orchard with fog rolling everywhere that we were directed to by the EMF reader with a town of too friendly people at our back, and…" Deja suddenly stopped, looking off to their right. "…an ugly ass scarecrow that's making my danger senses tingle. That, or it reminds me way too much of Children of the Corn."

Dean frowned, pausing in place and following her gaze to the scarecrow tied to a cross a few yards away from them. He changed directions, gradually approaching the hideous looking scarecrow with a disgusted expression while Deja followed.

"Dude, you fugly," he commented once he was standing a yard in front of it.

"Who gives their scarecrow a weapon?" Deja muttered from behind him. She really didn't like this thing, did she?

Then again, the scarecrow was holding a…

Dean didn't pay much attention to what it was holding once he saw the strange design on the arm of its leathery skin, spotting a ladder by a nearby tree and placing it right next to the scarecrow. He wasn't about to admit it out loud when Deja was right behind him, but getting this close to the scarecrow made his skin crawl. He eyed the scarecrows patchwork face and black, sunken eye sockets warily for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the missing flyers they'd been showing the locals all day. He took another look at the tattoo that the guy of the missing couple had on his arm, then reached over and pulled the sleeve of the scarecrow's coat back to show that the exact same tattoo was on the scarecrow's leathery skin.

Dean looked back at the scarecrow's face, probably starting to find it just as creepy as Deja did. "Nice tat," he said quietly.

"Dean, get away from the scarecrow."

Dean looked back at Deja when he heard the strained tone in her voice, seeing worry and a little fear in her eyes as she stared at the scarecrow. "Why?" he asked cautiously.

"I just had a nasty thought, but we're going to need to chat with the locals a little more before I can give you a definite answer," Deja said stiffly, and Dean realized that her gaze was fixated on the hand scythe that the scarecrow was holding, like she expected it to move. Dean looked back at the scarecrow, slowly starting to descend the ladder.

"Right…" Dean said slowly, putting the ladder back before returning to Deja's side. He put a hand on her back and ushered her along, though she kept looking back towards the scarecrow like she had to assure herself it was still in the same place. She didn't relax until they were out of the orchard, which Dean could feel since his hand was pressed against her back. They made it to their cars before Dean stopped her, turning her around to face him. "What are you thinking?"

Deja took a deep breath. "A man and a woman disappearing at the same time of every year like clockwork, a scarecrow wearing one of the missing guy's skin which implies that they probably died in there…I want to know if this little town has been luckier than the surrounding towns. Blessed," Deja said pointedly, holding Dean's gaze with surprising intensity.

"You're thinking pagan. A pagan god."

"Most likely. Fertility sacrifice like clockwork, that's no coincidence. And I think it's the locals doing it too. It's the week the disappearances always happen, they thought we were a couple and were far too nice to us until they realized we weren't. If this town is being blessed, then I'm willing to bet that they're making sacrifices to some sort of pagan god, and considering how freaked out and uneasy I was getting around that scarecrow, then I'll even bet that the scarecrow is what they're making sacrifices to if what's taking these people is a pagan god."

Dean leaned back, sizing Deja up. "I'm impressed."

Deja blushed, then shrugged. "I deal with witches the most, and paganism tends to show up a lot with witches. Now, can we please leave the creepy orchard with the possible killer scarecrow behind?"

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "How scared are you of that Children of the Corn stuff?"

Deja scowled. "Enough that if He Who Walks Behind the Rows pulls you into a cornfield, there's a fifty/fifty chance I may or may not ditch your ass and run for the hills."

"Thanks for that."

"I'm being honest."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"I bought you pie."

"From people possibly sacrificing couples to a killer scarecrow, who also thought we were a couple."

Deja shuddered. "Uhg, we almost became a sacrifice. That's a charming thought."

Dean gave her a slight smile. "Get in your car, let's head back to town and see if we can confirm your theory."

"For the sake of my sanity, I hope I'm wrong," Deja muttered before getting in her car.

************************

When they returned to town, Dean was once again in the lead, easily pulling up next to the gas pump the general store couple owned. Deja pulled up behind him to wait her turn, both of them getting out of the car as the young woman who had recognized the couple earlier came out of the shop.

"You're back," she said in surprise.

"Never left," Dean said with a shrug.

"You still looking for your friends?" the young woman asked, shoving her hands in her pockets. Dean simply gave her a nod, gaze falling on the necklace with the word Emily on it.

"Mind filling it up, there, Emily?" Dean asked politely.

Emily smiled at him, grabbing the gas pump and crouching down at the rear of the Impala. Dean and Deja shared a look as Deja leaned against the side of her car. "So, did you grow up here?" Dean asked Emily casually.

"I came here when I was thirteen," she said before standing up. "I lost my parents—a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in."

"They're nice people," Dean remarked.

"Everybody's nice here," Emily replied with a smile.

"So, what, it's the, uh, perfect little town?" Dean asked skeptically. Emily laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

"You know, it's the Boonies, but I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms, but here…it's like we're blessed," Emily said with a small shrug. Dean's gaze slid right to Deja, who was quickly masking the grimace that had slipped across her face when Emily had said blessed.

It looked like she was right.

Dean leaned against Baby. "Hey, you been out to the orchard? Seen that-that scarecrow?" he asked, trying not to think of how close he'd gotten to the possible killer pagan god with a scythe.

Emily sighed. "Yeah, it creeps me out."

"Me too," Deja finally said, shaking her head.

Dean laughed under his breath before he continued. "Whose is it?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't know. It's just always been there."

Wonderful.

Dean's gaze drifted over Emily's shoulder, falling on the red vehicle with the hood popped open inside the auto shop. "That your aunt and uncle's?"

Emily glanced back. "Customer—had some car troubles."

Dean resisted looking at Deja again, a pit settling in his gut. "It's not a couple, is it? A guy and a girl?"

"Mm-hm," Emily said with a small nod.

Shit, Dean thought, looking at Deja. The pump made a quiet dinging noise, indicating that the tank was full. "Thanks, Emily," Dean told her, handing over the cash for the gas.

"I need some gas too," Deja told Emily as Dean opened the driver's door. She looked to Dean, giving him a pleasant smile. "Why don't you grab something to eat at Scotty's, John—I'll join you when I'm done."

"Right," Dean said, getting back in the car and moving it over to where he and Deja had been parked earlier by the gazebo. As he made his way towards Scotty's he glanced back towards the gas station to see Emily and Deja chatting casually while the Corvette was filled up, and he couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about.

When Dean entered the café, the first thing he saw was the couple sitting at a table in the middle of the room, a mini buffet's worth of food in front of them. Dean pretended like he didn't think it was significant, though he was actually thinking last supper, giving Scotty a bright smile while the man looked at him with a flash of panic in his eyes.

"Hiya, Scotty. Can I get a coffee—black? And some of that pie, too, while you're at it. I know my friend wants a Dr. Pepper once she gets here—I'm not sure what she wants to eat," Dean said as he took a seat at the table right next to the feasting couple. While Scotty made Dean's coffee, Dean turned his attention to the couple beside him. "How you doing? Just passing through?"

"Road trip," the woman told him with a smile. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, same—my friend and I."

Scotty came back over, but he practically ignored Dean and poured the couple more orange juice. "I'm sure these people want to eat in peace," Scotty said bitingly, and Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Just a little friendly conversation," Dean said in a slightly defensive tone, watching Scotty as he walked by. "Oh, and those drinks, too, by the way. Thanks."

"So what brings you to town?" Dean asked the couple.

"We just stopped for gas, and the guy at the gas station saved our lives."

"Is that right?" Dean said with a slow nod, looking up as Deja entered the café as well, spotting Dean chatting with the couple easily and making her way over.

"Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking," the guy pitched in. "We had no idea. He's fixing it for us."

"Nice people," Dean commented while Deja took the seat opposite him. "So how long until you're up and running?"

"Sundown," the guy replied.

"Really?" Dean said slowly, leaning forward. "To fix a brake line?"

The guy seemed confused by Dean's dubiousness. "Mm-hm."

"I mean, I know a thing or two about cars, I could probably have you up and running in about an hour and wouldn't charge you anything," Dean offered. To his surprise, Deja kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"John, that's rude," she chided him, and he looked at her in disbelief. Here he was, trying to get the couple out of the town's fly trap...

Deja looked at the couple beside them with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about my overly-eager, competitive, grease monkey friend. He's being polite—he loves cars, he's really good with them and keeps his 67 Impala in perfect shape, and sometimes he forgets it's rude to try and steal someone else's thunder, especially when that someone else is being so kind."

"I'm not trying to steal anyone's thunder," Dean scoffed, but Deja didn't let him get much further.

"You already have some wonderful people working on your car, being kind and everything, it's sounds like you're belittling someone's kindness when you say you could do a better job," Deja said, turning the last half of her sentence towards Dean. He sighed in exasperation.

"I wasn't trying to belittle anyone—"

"I know," Deja said, cutting him off again. "But it came across that way."

Deja turned to the couple. "Again, sorry about him. Like I said, he gets carried away, but he means well."

"It's fine," the woman said.

Deja looked at Dean, who was giving her an incredulous look. He'd just been trying to get the couple out of Gatlin 2.0, and she completely shut him down.

"So, if you're car's not going to be ready until sundown, is there a place you can stay the night?" Deja suddenly asked the pair casually. The couple shared a look, taken aback.

"I'm sorry?" the woman asked. Deja blinked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that came out weird," she said with a small laugh. "I wasn't—I just wouldn't want to travel these roads at night. They're really windy, and the deer are everywhere at night—not to mention they have a bad habit of jumping in front of or into cars instead of away."

"Do you live around here?" the man asked.

"No, but I've lived in a few rural areas like this before, and they're usually the same level of dangerous at night. That's why I usually don't drive through the country at night—I prefer to find a place to crash and simply go in the day," Deja said with a smile. The bell above the café's door rang again, and Scotty's voice suddenly rang clearly through the café.

"Thanks for coming, sheriff!" Scotty said loudly before he came to a stop beside the man, speaking in lowered voices. Several curse words started to go through Dean's head, though Deja kept her expression perfectly innocent and calm, still looking at the couple.

"I…don't think there's any kind of motel or bed and breakfast in home, so we'll just have to make it to the next town," the woman said slowly, looking at the sheriff warily.

"Well, that's a shame. Whatever happens, just be safe, okay?" Deja said warmly before the sheriff approached their table.

"I'd like a word, please," the sheriff said sternly, coming to stand beside Dean. Deja looked up at him, a perfect expression of confusion on her face while Dean tried to keep his more annoyed than angry.

"Is something the matter, Sheriff?" she asked innocently.

"Come on, we've had a really bad day, we just want to have a bite to eat," Dean added. The sheriff braced both hands on the table, leaning forward.

"You don't want to make it worse," he said in a quiet voice.

Deja looked at him evenly, her eyes suddenly steel. "I'm sorry, Sheriff…I didn't know we were breaking any rules."

"Come on, Lisbeth. He's got the get out of my town look. We should probably just leave," Dean said slowly, rising to his feet. "Come on—we've got plenty more road to follow to see if we can find out what happened to Vince and Holly."

"Right…" Deja said with a sigh, getting up as well and giving the couple one last smile. "Be careful on the roads tonight—watch for deer."

"We will," the woman replied with a strained smile, and Dean felt the couple's eyes on them until they left the café.

*************************

"Well…that went horribly."

Dean and Deja stood parked on the side of the road a safe distance from Burkitsville, leaning against the Impala and sharing Dean's pie and Deja's soda—she'd already apologized for not having any beer packed. They'd agreed to lie low for the rest of the day and go to the orchard when the sun went down to make sure the couple didn't end up the next sacrifice. Once the couple was safely away from danger, and Dean and Deja managed to get some rest, they would go to a local college and see if they could find any lore on a scarecrow pagan god.

Until then, all they could do was wait.

Dean looked at Deja, a scowl on his face. "And did you have to kick and insult me in there?"

"I kicked you so you would shut up before you did any damage," Deja said pointedly. "You really were being rude by normal conversation standards by that point, so I took charge. And I don't think it was a complete bust—that couple looked wary once the sheriff led us out, and not of us. At the very least we know they'll be being cautious.

"You still didn't have to kick me," Dean muttered, taking another bite of his pie.

Deja rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry for kicking you, Dean."

Dean hummed in acceptance of her apology, and the two fell into a relatively comfortable silence. Eventually, Deja broke that silence, hoping that she wasn't about to tread on a mine. "So…have you heard from Sam?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope," he said briskly. His tone let her know not to push for more, so she didn't say anything more, deciding to let the silence fall again. Surprisingly, Dean was the one who broke it, and he didn't even let the silence linger that long before he spoke.

"When Sam left…it took you a while to follow. What were you doing?" Dean asked, looking at her with an unwavering, intense gaze that threw Deja off for a few seconds.

"I was wishing him good luck…telling him to stay safe, call if he needed help and when he reached Cali…" Deja worried her bottom lip between her teeth, debating whether or not she was going to admit to the more personal part of her conversation with Sam. "And I told him that you're a damn good older brother that he's lucky to have."

Dean leaned back, processing her words with a confused furrow to his brow before he spoke. "Why would you say that?"

Deja shrugged. "Because it's true?" she offered, looking at Dean.

"Little siblings, we, ah…we tend to be ungrateful little shits every now and then," Deja started with a sad smile that quickly disappeared. "We get so used to our older siblings always being there we start to take advantage of it without realizing it, maybe even abuse it a little, it depends on the person…sometimes we don't realize just how much they do for us, how much they shield us from. But no matter how much we bicker and fight, how often we're oblivious…we still love and look up to our older siblings. We know they're always there, even if they don't agree, though sometimes we need reminding when things get really bad. We still care about them and think of them as the best person in the world, though. No matter the fight or disagreement, we always love 'em."

It was completely quiet between the two for several long minutes, and while that silence stretched on Deja kept her gaze trained on the can in her hand, her index finger absentmindedly tracing its rim.

"You kept saying we," Dean eventually said, his voice quiet and controlled, though Deja could tell there were some heavy emotions held at bay.

Deja nodded. "I had a big brother once. And I lost him like everyone else. Except…we weren't on good terms, weren't siblings, when…" Deja sighed, shaking her head but keeping her gaze down. "Sometimes you don't realize what you have until it's gone, right?"

Dean didn't say anything for a long time, and Deja kept her gaze on anything but him so she could keep her composure. After several long minutes went by, Deja felt a hand lay gently on her right shoulder blade, and she finally looked up to see Dean giving her a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, holding her gaze. "I can't imagine what that must be like."

"And I hope it stays that way," Deja replied, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. "It's okay, I…it's been a long time."

Deja let out a small huff. "Anyway, you should probably call him at some point. Sooner rather than later. By now he's probably dying of boredom on a greyhound bus playing Britney Spears."

Dean made a sound of disgust, his hand dropping back to his side. "Don't give me those thoughts."

"Fumbling flirting with a girl because of his nerdiness," Deja continued.

Dean shook his head. "He is such a nerd."

"And missing listening to his tone-deaf brother sing Metallica." That last one got his attention again, and Deja patted his arm before straightening up. "Call him, Dean. Really."

Before he could reply, Deja made her way to her car and got inside, the roof on, windows rolled up, and he watched her lean her head back against the seat and close her eyes to get some sleep before they rushed the orchard tonight.

************************

When they reached the orchard, it was already dark, and the couple's car was already sitting empty on the side of the road. Dean and Deja got out of their cars swiftly without having to come up with much of a plan, both of them grabbing shotguns and loading them up before running into the orchard.

It was much scarier at night, especially knowing that there was a killer scarecrow among these trees that they couldn't see yet.

The sounds of a woman screaming reached their ears long before they saw the couple, Dean running at a full sprint just ahead of Deja as they headed in the direction of the screams.

They rounded a corner just in front of the couple, the scarecrow off its cross and swiftly coming at them. Deja paled noticeably, but thankfully Dean didn't see because he was standing in front of her, gun hoisted. Deja held out a hand to the couple.

"Back to your car, come on!" she said urgently, lunging forward when the couple didn't immediately respond and grasping the woman's wrist to pull her forward. "Come on!"

Dean stood his ground and fired a round at the scarecrow, and Deja looked over her shoulder, still leading the couple at a full sprint towards the orchard's exit. "Dean, that's only going to piss him off! Maybe slow him down a hair!"

Her response was Dean firing another shot at the scarecrow, but this time while Dean joined the rear of the fleeing group. Deja heard one more shot go off before Dean apparently decided he was just wasting bullets.

"Go, go!" he shouted, and Deja pulled slightly on the woman's wrist, urging her to run faster. Deja didn't dare look back, knowing that she was liable to freak out if she saw the walking scarecrow terror chasing after them.

Deja weaved between the orchard trees, forcing herself to slow down so the couple could keep up while she held tightly onto her shotgun. It wasn't until they passed the gate that Deja finally whipped around, standing side by side with Dean while the couple hid behind them, both shotguns trained back towards the orchard as they fully expected the scarecrow to continue chasing them.

"What…" the guy gasped from behind Dean. "What—what the Hell was that?"

"Don't ask," Dean said without glancing back, sounding a little shaken himself. Deja's gaze scanned the dark orchard in front of them, but she saw no movement, heard no steps, and there was no sign of the scarecrow.

"Dean…I don't think it can leave the orchard. I think we're good," she said carefully. Dean remained tense, eyes scanning the orchard like Deja before he very slowly lowered his gun. Deja turned to the couple behind them. "Your car broke down, right?"

The woman nodded vigorously, and Deja patted Dean's arm to get his attention. "Come on, let's see what we can do for their car—get them back on the road and out of here," she said pointedly, gesturing to the red vehicle that was parked off the road. The couple made their way back to their car and Deja went to hers, searching for a few seconds before she found a flashlight. Dean was already pulling out his tools, and without a word the pair got to work looking for the sabotage so the car could be repaired.

*************************

"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?"

Dean smiled at the disbelieving tone in Sam's voice, eyes trained on the road in front of him as he spoke with Sam on the phone. It was the next morning, the couple was safely far away from Burkitsville by now, and Deja drove close behind Dean as they drove to the local college to do some research and figure out how to take care of this particular situation.

"Hey, I'm telling you, Burkitsville, Indiana—fun town."

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?" Sam asked in concern.

"No," Dean scoffed. "I can cope without you, you know, and I do still have Deja with me."

"So, something must be animating it—a spirit."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's more than a spirit. It's a god—a pagan god, anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Deja actually suggested it—after some questioning and our close encounter last night we know it's a pagan god for sure. There's the annual cycle of its killings, and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman, like some kind of fertility rite. The locals were actually circling Deja and I like vultures until they found out we weren't a couple. You should see these people—the way they treat couples...they were fattening last night's couple up like a Christmas turkey."

"The last meal…given to sacrificial victims."

"Yeah, Deja suggested it was a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god. She was right."

"So, a god possesses the scarecrow…"

"The scarecrow takes its sacrifice," Dean finished. "And for another year, the crops won't wilt and disease won't spread."

"You know which god you're dealing with?"

"Nope, not yet."

"Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it."

"I know. We're actually on our way to a local community college. I got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don't have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research."

Sam laughed at the other end of the phone, which coaxed a smile from Dean. "You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask," Sam said.

"I'm not hinting anything," Dean said automatically, his voice slightly defensive. He glanced in his rearview mirror, spotting Deja's car.

We know they're always there, even if they don't agree, though sometimes we need reminding when things get really bad…Sometimes you don't realize what you have until it's gone, right?

"Actually…uh…" Dean laughed softly at himself, suddenly feeling awkward as he tried to figure out how to say what he needed to. He cleared his throat, trying to keep the rising lump at bay. "I want you to know…I mean, don't think—"

"Yeah…I'm sorry, too," Sam said quietly, and Dean felt a moment of relief that Sam already knew what he was trying to say.

But it wasn't enough.

"Sam…" Dean paused when he heard his voice wobble and crack, gritting his teeth and taking a moment to make sure his voice was steady again. "You were right. You got to do your own thing. You got to live your own life."

"You serious?" Sam asked in surprise.

"You've always known what you want, and you go after it. You stand up to Dad. I mean, you always have. Hell, I wish I…" Dean stopped his words there, letting them trail off as his eyes started to sting. He shook his head slightly, letting out a slow breath before he spoke again. "Anyway…I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say you'll take care of yourself."

"I will."

Dean smiled faintly. "Call me when you find Dad."

"Okay. Bye, Dean," Sam said softly.

Dean didn't respond. He pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut, keeping his gaze fixated on the road ahead of him while he waited for the sting in his eyes to stop. Once he was certain he had control of that situation, he glanced towards Deja's car in the rearview mirror.

She'd been right—again. He'd needed to make that call, and he was glad he had.

**********************

"It's not every day I get a research question on pagan idolatry."

Dean, Deja, and the professor they were speaking to at the local college made their way down a flight of stairs towards the professor's office, with Dean playing the hobbyist and Deja playing the friend who didn't want to wait in the car.

"Yeah, well, call it a hobby," Dean said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" the professor asked incredulously.

"Mm-hm," was Dean's only reply.

"I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its pagan worship," the professor replied.

"What if it was imported? You know, like the pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?" Dean asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The professor nodded, and Dean continued. "Like that town near here, Burkitsville—where are their ancestors from?"

"Northern Europe, I believe. Scandinavia."

"What could you tell me about those pagan gods?"

"Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses…" the professor said slowly.

"I'm actually looking for one—might live in an orchard," Dean said simply. The professor's brow furrowed.

"Well…that would narrow it down…" The professor gestured to a room on their right, his office by the looks of it. "Why don't you two wait here and I'll go get a book I think might have what you're looking for."

"Thanks," Dean said, watching the professor disappear around the corner before walking inside with Deja. "So, any more theories yet?"

Deja shook her head. "Not really. Like he said, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses—I've only got the big guys memorized—Thor, Loki, Oden, Fenrir, Jormungandr, so on and so forth."

"That last one is the giant snake around the world, right?"

"Yeah.

"Props for being able to say that without butchering it," Dean said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, it took some practice, believe me," Deja chuckled.

Dean sighed, looking idly around the room. "I hope this doesn't take too long—the town's window to make a sacrifice is almost up, I think, so they're bound to be getting desperate."

Deja patted his arm. "Don't worry, we've got this."

Deja didn't say anymore, because at that moment the professor returned with a large leather bound book in hand, dropping it onto the desk. Dean and Deja both moved closer as he opened the book, taking in fancy text and a few ancient looking sketches.

"A woods god. Well, let's see…" the professor stated, starting to flip through the pages one by one. Dean quickly stopped him when they glimpsed a picture of a scarecrow strung up on a cross in a field.

"Wait, wait, wait. What's that one?" Dean asked, pointing to the scarecrow.

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per se," the professor said, appearing ready to move on. Dean, however, placed his finger just under the top line of the text and began to read out loud.

"The V-vanir?" Dean read, stumbling momentarily over the name and looking up to make sure he was saying it right. Once he saw the professor nod to say he was correct, Dean continued. "Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Villages build effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice, one male and one female."

Dean and Deja's gazes slid towards one another, a silent communication that they both agreed that they'd found their scarecrow creature.

"It kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?" Dean asked the professor, pointing at the picture.

The professor looked reluctant to agree as Dean turned back to the script. "Well, I suppose."

"This particular Vanir, its energy sprung from a sacred tree?"

"Well, pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic," the professor said with a shrug.

"So, what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? Do you think it would kill the god?"

Deja laughed, touching Dean's shoulder and giving the professor—who looked worried by Dean's question—a warm smile. "Sorry about him, he always asks the weird questions no one else would think of. John, people think that you actually believe this stuff when you ask those kinds of questions," she said, giving Dean a pointed look out of the professor's view. They were still really close to Burkitsville—for all they knew, this professor could be a local from there. Then they would be in trouble.

"Oh, of course. Yeah, you're right," Dean said, even throwing in an abashed laugh. He held out a hand to the professor. "Listen, thank you, very much."

"Glad I could help," the professor replied, shaking Dean's hand

"All right," Dean said quietly, making his way to the door with Deja right behind him.

Dean had just opened the door to leave when suddenly there was a loud thud, and Dean's head snapped back, and he fell backwards with a grunt of pain, unconscious into Deja's arms.

"Dean!" she cried out on instinct, quickly discovering that she couldn't lift him as he dropped to the ground. Her instincts went on high alert as the situation registered in her mind, and she lunged forward at the sheriff in the doorway, grabbing at the gun he'd just used to knock Dean out before he could swing the loaded end all the way around to point at Deja. While she fought to yank the gun from his hands, she brought her knee up towards the sheriff's gut, satisfied to see a look of shock cross his face that she wasn't some helpless pretty girl stuck on Dean's arm.

As soon as both feet were on the ground again, Deja twisted fast to smash her elbow into the sheriff's face, hearing a satisfied crack that was either his jaw or his nose. He loosened his grip on the weapon on instinct when the pain registered in his mind, so Deja took the opportunity to pull the weapon free and swing the stock against his head with even more force. The sheriff went to the ground as Deja unloaded the weapon with well-practiced ease, turning to face Dean again. Before she could even look at him she felt something smash against her face and her head snapped to the side as she stumbled with a loud curse.

The professor.

She'd been too occupied with the sheriff to keep an eye on him.

She hadn't even recovered from the first hit when the second blow came, and the world went dark.

************************

"Deja…Deja, come on, wake up. Deja!"

Deja groaned as someone hand lightly smacked her face, rousing her from unconsciousness. She dimly recognized the voice as Dean's as she returned to the world of the living, feeling a hard, earthen floor beneath her.

"Deja, are you with me?" Dean asked, hand dropping to her shoulder as she finally opened her eyes. The light was terrible, and she could barely see him. "I see the sheriff got the drop on you, too."

Deja snorted. "Not the sheriff—I knocked him out. The professor got me while I was still preoccupied with the sheriff," she said quietly, gradually sitting up. "Where are we?"

"One of the local's cellars, I'd wager, judging by all the canned goods down here."

Deja sighed, returning to a laying down position and closing her eyes again. "Great…this is just how I wanted this day to go—the locals deciding to kill us via scarecrow god."

"Sacrifice us," Dean corrected, prompting her to open her eyes and glare at him. "Which is, I don't know, classier, I guess."

Deja took a moment to breathe and get her bearings before she suddenly sat up again, getting all the way to her feet this time. "All right…let's try to figure this out," she said seriously, turning to Dean.

"Killing the god or not getting killed by the god?" Dean asked pointedly, earning an exasperated sigh from Deja.

"Both," she said with a shake of her head. "First of all, the scarecrow. Its power is tied to a tree, right? And it can't leave the orchard, so maybe the tree is in that orchard. Kind of like a spirit can't stray too far from an object that's keeping it tied to our world."

"Maybe," Dean agreed, folding his arms over his chest.

"And the tree will be older than all the others, which should make it a little easier to spot. All else fails we can just torch the entire damn orchard."

"Let's make that a last case scenario," Dean told her, moving up towards the cellar door.

"Okay, well, now that we've got that settled, how the hell are we going to avoid being sacrificed to the thing?" Deja asked, watching as Dean started to ram his shoulder against the door, trying to bust it open. She figured that was his first answer when he didn't immediately respond, continuing to throw himself against the door until it became clear that wasn't going to work. He sighed, looking over at Deja.

"You've been coming up with all sorts of stuff on this case—do you have any ideas?" he asked, coming back down the stairs. Deja looked around at the small cellar.

"I don't know…do you see anything heavier than you that could be used as a battering ram? Or an axe to chop through the door?" she asked.

"No, I already looked for something like that while you were unconscious," Dean said with a shake of his head. Deja huffed, eyeing one of the mason jars that had canned applesauce inside.

"Well…at the very least…I'm not going to be unarmed," she growled, grabbing one of the jars and throwing it to the ground. Dean cursed, having not expected the sudden movement, though she ignored him and leaned down to grab a large piece of shattered glass. Carefully she shoved it into her boot, positioning it so that it wouldn't hurt her while she walked before standing up and facing Dean. "It's crude and pathetic, but it's sharp and I can make it work. I'm not being sacrificed to that thing without a fight," she said flatly.

"I believe you, Jason Bourne," Dean said. "Got any other ideas?"

The cellar door suddenly groaned, and both of them looked up as the couple from the general store, the sheriff, and Scotty all appeared at the top of the cellar, guns trained down towards Deja and Dean. Both hunters glared at the group above them, not about to be caught in any kind of weak position that might involve begging or submission.

"It's time," said the woman from the general store.

"Either you come willingly, or we drag you out," the sheriff stated.

"Hello there, Isaac, Malachi," Deja said bitterly, nodding at the woman and then the sheriff. Dean snorted softly beside her, though the amusement was gone the next moment when the tell-tale sliding click of a shotgun being loaded followed her remark.

"Move, now," Scotty said. He was the one who'd loaded the gun. Deja looked at Dean, who took a slightly protective half step closer to her before they cautiously exited the cellar.

**************************

Deja sat perfectly still as she and Dean were tied to two separate apple trees next to one another with rope, and Dean with zip-ties as well just to be safe. She didn't move because there were four people with loaded shotguns, and all she had was the shard of glass in her boot—now wasn't the time to make an escape attempt.

Though with how tightly and securely they tied her hands to the tree, she was wondering if she could make an escape attempt after they left. Dean and Deja kept throwing glances at each other, both of them clearly trying to come up with a way out of this mess. Deja herself was having a hard time focusing with the chills going down her spine, the scarecrow a couple of yards behind them and radiating its evil energy like a dark beacon.

She just wanted far, far, far away from this place.

"How many people have you killed there, sheriff?" Dean asked acidly as the sheriff made sure he was tightly bound. "How much blood is on your hands?"

"We don't kill them," the sheriff said flatly, and Deja let out a disbelieving snort.

"No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?" Dean retorted. The sheriff didn't respond, but Deja didn't let him get off so easy.

"You can try to say there's no crime on your shoulders all you want, but you're guilty of killing these people as much as if you cut them up yourselves," Deja said coldly, eyes flashing. "Looking the other way, covering it up, telling yourself it's for the greater good—those are just more crimes added on to sending these people to their deaths and killing them."

"We're doing what we have to, something you wouldn't understand," the general store woman started to say, but Deja cut her off with such venom she felt multiple eyes turn to her.

"Don't you dare presume to know me—you don't know a damn thing about me. But you can know that I sure as hell will be there when all this blows up in your face, like it always does when you tangle with pagan gods."

She received steely expressions in response, and after one last check to be sure Dean and Deja were tightly tied up, the group gathered their guns and left.

"I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!" Dean shouted at their retreating backs. Deja waited until the townspeople were out of sight and she'd had time to calm down to speak.

"So, do you have a plan yet?"

"I'm working on it," Dean muttered, pulling at his restraints much like Deja was doing.

"Right…" Deja sighed, testing out her restraints once more. They'd only used rope on her, so she had a slightly better chance at getting free than Dean.

That didn't mean she could.

Slowly, as Dean and Deja both struggled to get free, even trying to break the branches they were tied to with their weight at one point, night fell, and Deja's danger sense only grew stronger. Finally, she looked over at Dean, still in the same position as when they'd been dragged here, and she decided she was going to try something that was going to hurt like hell but she was desperate enough to do.

"Damn it, I'm not dying sacrificed to a Children of the Corn sequel," she growled, grabbing her long sleeve with her teeth and gradually pulling it down to give her wrist a little more wiggle room, even if it was just a thin sleeve's worth.

It would have to do.

Gritting her teeth and bracing herself for the pain to come, Deja started to twist her wrist against the rope with the goal of breaking skin and hopefully cutting a little deeper, pulling down as well to try and help the friction. At first it was just uncomfortable, but once it reached rope burn level it started to be painful, and she bit back a low whine. Dean looked over at her at the sound.

"Deja, what are you doing?"

"Trying something," she ground out, biting down on her lip as she continued rubbing against and pulling at the rope.

"You've got a plan?" he asked.

"I don't see you coming up with one," she forced out.

"I'm working on it," he muttered, looking away. Deja managed to keep quiet a little while longer, though as she finally started to get closer to where she wanted to be, she started to hiss in pain, which drew Dean's attention yet again.

"Deja, what are you doing?" he nearly growled.

"Damn it, this hurts," Deja practically whimpered to herself instead of answering him, though she refused to give up, ignoring his concerned expression and continuing to work the rope against her wrist until finally she started to get a decent amount of blood dribbling. Deja let out a few short breaths, gaining her bearings and ignoring the part of her brain telling her to stop hurting herself as she just continued a little longer, watching the blood smear along her wrist and the rope, making both surfaces slick…and once she was satisfied with her handiwork, Deja pulled down with all her might, watching as the rope peeled away from the raw, cut, bleeding skin and started to slip up, up…she tucked her thumb in…the rope squeezed against flesh and bone but the rope was slicker with her blood, easier to move and…

Smack!

Deja managed to pop her hand free, her arm colliding with her leg with the force of how hard she'd been pulling down and making an audible sound.

"Yes!" she cried out in relief, drawing her foot up and fishing the glass shard out of her boot where it was stashed.

"You—damn! Hurry up, who knows how long before that damn thing moves," Dean urged her, watching as she cut through the ropes on her other hand with the glass shard. Once the frayed ends fell to the ground, Deja rushed to crouch by Dean, trying to tell herself not to look towards the scarecrow and freak herself out as she focused on his bonds.

But she couldn't help it.

As she was sawing against the rope, Deja looked back towards the cross, feeling raw panic grip her.

"Shit!" she hissed, voice so high pitched it came out sounding soft. Dean froze at her tone.

"It's not on the cross?" he asked.

"No," she replied, cutting a little more vigorously at his bonds. She got the one hand free, then moved over to the next, just putting the glass to the rope's edge when she heard the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs to go with footsteps. Dean cursed under his breath in a sudden slew and Deja rushed to cut him free. She saw a shadow move out of her peripherals, far too close for comfort, and Deja suddenly snapped up and around the tree, spurred on by foolish bravery as she lunged at the shadow with just her damn glass shard.

The shadow grunted in surprise, but managed to knock her hand away, using her momentum against her to send her careening into an apple tree. She tensed to continue the fight, whipping around, but before she could even pinpoint where the shadow went—

"Deja?"

Deja's head snapped in the direction of the voice, and her knees almost gave out in relief when the shadow finally stepped into enough moonlight for her to see that Sam Winchester was standing before her, not the townspeople or the scarecrow.

"Sam," she breathed in relief, voice cracking. "Oh, thank God, it's you. Damn it…I could have killed you!" she accused, waving the glass shard at him.

"Sam?" Dean asked from his side of the tree, flipping over with his one arm still attached to the tree since Deja hadn't really done a number on the rope. He was pulling at the rope with his free hand, looking as relieved if not more so than Deja at the moment. He practically wilted once he saw Sam standing with Deja. "Oh, oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you."

Deja went back to Dean's side with Sam hot on her heels, and she went back to work sawing at the rope. "How did you get here?" Dean asked while Deja worked.

"I, uh…stole a car," Sam admitted, and Dean laughed despite the seriousness of their current situation.

"That's my boy!" Dean said proudly as Deja finally cut his other arm free.

"Not to put a damper on this happy reunion," Deja butted in, pulling Dean to his feet. "But is anyone watching out for the killer scarecrow?"

"What?" Sam asked, and Dean quickly grabbed Deja's wrist at the reminder. She let out a cry of pain, and Dean immediately let go, looking disturbed to find his hand slick with her blood.

"I—" Dean started to apologize, but Deja tucked her wrist to her stomach and pushed him forward with her other hand.

"You can apologize later, right now, move," she ordered, and the three started moving at a jog, not wanting to run into the scarecrow at a dead sprint.

"Wait, do you know how to kill it?" Sam asked as Dean and Deja started leading the way out of the orchard.

"Yeah, we gotta burn an old sacred tree to destroy it because that's where it gets its power."

"So, let's find it and burn it!" Sam said pointedly.

"Hell no, we're getting out of here," Deja said passionately. "Right now there's a Children of the Corn creature out to kill us, we're coming back in the morning when it's an inactive horror show and we can torch a tree without fear of being gutted!"

A loud snap echoed on their immediate right and Deja let out a small screech, suddenly finding herself firmly behind Dean but in front of Sam, thinking the scarecrow had caught up to them. Instead, they were suddenly flooded in lights, the general store couple on one side, and Deja saw some of the other villagers on their left.

Dean grabbed her again, this time making a conscious effort not to grab her wrist which led to him wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in another direction. "This way," he ordered, but when he tried to lead them to freedom he simply found himself with the barrel of a shotgun at his chest, the villagers cutting off all of their escape routes.

Before anything could be said, the growling sound of the scarecrow she'd tried to block out when they'd saved the couple the other night echoed around the trees somewhere close by. Dean pulled her protectively closer, and Deja didn't fight it, her gaze roaming the trees around them desperately for some sign of the scarecrow other than that damn growling.

The first instinct was to try and appeal to the humanity of the townspeople, though she was pretty sure that didn't exist anymore. The second, however, came with a revelation, and Deja felt bile rise in her throat.

"You know…the thing about pagan gods…is that they're very picky," Deja said hoarsely, pulling Dean and Sam backwards away from the general store couple. She clutched at Dean's arm. "There's only one couple here…and it's not us."

Realization had just started to dawn on the couple's faces before a shadow rounded the corner from the tree behind them, shoving a scythe right through the man's chest. The woman screamed, and Deja jumped, her grasp on Dean's arm tightening to a white-knuckled death grip. The villagers started to scatter, but the scarecrow grabbed the woman and speared its scythe right through the man's leg, dragging the two back into the depths of the orchard.

Deja suddenly pulled on Dean's arm with such an intensity that he stumbled. "Let's go!" she begged, leading the charge out of the orchard with the Winchester boys on either side of her. She practically cried in relief when she saw the gates, waiting until she was on the other side of the road to finally come to a stop, her entire body shaking as the screams and growls continued to resonate from the orchard.

"Damn fucking scary psycho Stephen King Children of the Corn scarecrow shit!" she fumed, pacing circles and locking her hands together behind her head, trying to stop before she ended up hyperventilating. "Oh, oh…"

She came to a stop, bending over and bracing herself on her knees as she tried to steady herself and calm down, breathe…

Dean appeared at her side, his hands on both of her shoulders as he started coaching her through calming down. "That's it, deep breaths, calm down…"

Gradually she got ahold of herself again, straightening and running a hand down her face. "I'm not sleeping tonight. Mother of…" Deja huffed, turning to Sam and Dean. "Let's just…get the Hell out of here, and burn this entire fucking orchard in the morning, and leave."

"We're not going to burn the entire orchard," Sam replied.

"Well…" Dean said, giving Sam an I actually kind of agree with her look.

"We're not burning the orchard!" Sam reiterated. "Look, let's just get out of here and deal with it in the morning when we've all had time to calm down."

Dean and Deja both looked back at the orchard, and Deja felt the goosebumps break out against her skin. "I think our cars are still at the college. I'm not sleeping any time soon, so let's go get them," she said warily.

"Right…and after that, you're going to let me look at your wrist," Dean said seriously. Deja didn't even argue—she just wanted out of there as soon as possible.

**********************

The next morning the trio returned to the orchard with gasoline and matches in hand, starting their search for the ancient pagan tree. The sun was streaming through the trees, the birds were singing, and the place seemed sickeningly pleasant for a place where so many couples were brutally slaughtered by a living scarecrow. Despite the fact that it would be quicker to split up and search the orchard, Deja, Dean, and Sam stayed together, still shaken after the horror show the night before and reluctant to leave anyone alone.

It was near the heart of the orchard that they finally found it—an old, brown, and twisted tree, but what really gave it away was the symbols carved into its weathered trunk, symbols that Deja was able to identify as pagan. As soon as she'd cleared that up, Sam had started dousing the tree in gasoline, and Dean got a makeshift torch ready.

Once Sam had emptied the entire canister of gasoline all over the tree, Dean had offered the honor of torching the tree to Deja, who didn't even have to consider her answer. She only waited long enough for Sam to move out of the way before she put the torch to the tree and watched it go up in flames with immense satisfaction.

Now they collectively stood by the Impala, Deja's wrist treated and wrapped by Dean, gas tanks full, and full of caffeine to at least make enough of the drive to get to a town a decent ways away from Burkitsville with a motel where they could attempt to sleep. However, there was some awkwardness in the air between Sam and Dean, and Deja was just thinking about slipping back to her car to give them some privacy when they started to talk, unbothered by her presence.

"So…" Dean started, looking at Sam. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

Sam smiled. "No, I think you're stuck with me."

Both Dean and Deja looked at Sam in surprise, having expected him to head back to California. "What made you change your mind?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "I didn't. I still want to find dad…and you're still a pain in the ass."

Deja laughed, shaking her head and making her way back to the car so she could let them have a little more of their moment and not interrupt them. Leaning against the hood, she gazed at the open road but continued to listen since the only sound was the faint breeze, the birds, and their talking.

"But Jess and Mom…they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and me…we're all that's left. So, uh…if we're gonna see this through…we're gonna do it together."

Deja smiled at the ground, feeling something warm inside her at Sam's words. It's nice to know that he listened to what I had to say. I already know Dean did, since he called Sam the other day…

Dean only let the silence linger for a few moments before speaking in a serious tone. "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful. Come on."

Sam shoved Dean's hand away when he tried for an emotional hug, and Deja laughed at the pair again, looking up to see that Dean was laughing too.

"So where to next, boys?" Deja asked.

Dean heaved a large sigh, looking down the road. "The first motel at least fifty miles away from this place."

"Amen," Deja said with another laugh. "Let's make things interesting—last one there has to buy dinner."

"You're on!" Dean said instantly, and all three quickly got in their respective cars, engines roaring to life before they peeled out onto the open road and left the nightmare that was Burkitsville far behind them.