Chapter Text
Sam was the one who drove them out of the town that he had spent the better part of a year stuck in. He couldn't wait to see the back of it. A hundred Tuesdays will do that to a person and no one, not even Dean himself, was going to stop Sam from making sure his brother was safe.
"Dude! Pull the hell over and let me fucking drive!" Dean demanded from the passenger seat of the Impala.
"No." Sam replied, glancing in the rear view mirror and pressing on the accelerator.
"Sam!"
"No, Dean. Not now." Sam grit out, putting as many miles as he could between the two of them and the town from Hell. Or rather, the thing that had kept them in it.
"Fucking Tricksters." he thought as the Impala ripped down the road.
After several hours of driving and putting a few states behind them, Sam pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Keys were procured and the boys soon found themselves in Room 43 of the Prince Faust Motel.
"Can't believe you wouldn't let me drive." Dean groaned as he flopped down on the nearest bed.
"Still going to gripe about that?" Sam asked.
"Until I get my keys back, yeah." Dean muttered, hands rubbing his face.
"You'll live. In the mean time, I want to know why that Trickster isn't dead." Sam went to go get his computer and bags from the car. Dean followed to help with weapons and his bags.
Research was slow going, while there was an awful lot of Nordic lore and stories, that was all a lot of it was: lore and stories. Finding the way to kill the Trickster wasn't the problem, they knew that already. According to all the legends, the pine stake dipped in blood should have worked. The problem was finding out why it hadn't, there was virtually no information on that. Dean pulled himself away from the computer screen with a sigh, rubbing his eyes, they were getting nowhere.
"I'm gonna get some coffee, want any?" Sam asked as he slipped his wallet in his pocket.
"Yeah, bring back something to eat too." Dean said, as he stood and stretched his back. "Anything is good."
Sam nodded and was out the door. Dean hit the sheets as soon as he was gone, hoping to rest for a bit before getting back to his research.
Salem, Massachusetts 1692
Another frost would be coming soon, she needed to dig quickly for the roots she required for the healing tea. Deanna brushed back a strand of honey blond hair that had fallen from her bonnet and dug further into the ground, stopping now and again to chop at the frozen hard packed earth. The snow had melted away over the past few days, the top layer of dirt warming up under the sun, but there was always more to come. Soon the root was located and extracted from the ground. Deanna wrapped it in a bit of white cloth and packed it and her trowel into the basket she'd put next to the hole she had dug. Diana refilled the hole, after making sure she had what she needed, and walked back home.
Home, was a little village named Salem, where Deanna was a healer and midwife; she lived just beyond the farms, closer to the woods. Her late husband had been a carpenter and had built their home close to the woods for that reason and so Deanna would be closer to any wild herbs she needed. Deanna opened the door to her house and after tending the fire and setting the kettle to boil, she began to prepare the root. When it was chopped finely, she divided it into two batches and set one aside. The other she blended with a few other herbs and dried flower petals and when it was steeped and drained, mixed it with honey. Deanna quickly drank it down and gathered the remainder in a small tin. After delivering the tea and instructions on using it, she headed back home.
It was one day while she was out chopping wood that Deanna and the strange man met.
"Excuse me, could you tell me if I'm getting close to Salem? My horse and I have been traveling awhile and we're rather tired."
Deanna turned around, ax in hand, she wasn't stupid after all, and looked at the stranger. He was a little taller than her, had brown hair that framed his face nicely and was standing next to a black horse dappled with white and that had a white mane and tail. Deanna smiled when the horse nudged the man's shoulder impatiently. His clothing was travel worn, but still in good condition. She glanced at the bags on the horse, they were what gave his profession away. He was a traveling apothecary, she didn't see them too often.
"Pay her no mind, she just wants the sugar lump in my pocket." he said as the horse nudged him again, this time nibbling on his shirt. "Impetuous beast." He gently nudged her nose away. "My name is Richard, if that helps. Richard North."
"North?" Deanna asked.
"There were four Richards in my village, my father was one of them and we lived on the north side of the village." Richard replied.
Deanna nodded. "The village is close, keep following the path you're on, it leads straight to town."
It was true, if Deanna leaned the right way, she could see her house through the trees and the farms just beyond it.
"Thank you, Miss..."
"Mrs. actually. Mrs. Wilshire."
Richard thanked her again and continued on his way to the village.
Time went on and Richard and Deanna saw each other every time that he came through the village. He normally came though every few weeks, eight at the most, Richard used Salem as a spot to restock his supplies. They bonded over a shared interest in herbs and an over lapping profession of sorts. They shared techniques in healing and Deana was fascinated with some of Richard's, He had techniques that she had never heard of or seen before. One night over dinner, Richard asked why she lived so far away from the village square.
"I've told you about my late husband, correct?"
Richard nodded.
"We were married back in England before we sailed here. Jacob was good at carpentry, so we set our house here to be close to the woods. Things were very good for awhile. We were talking about starting a family after we had settled down here, and had just started trying for a baby, when his accident happened." Deanna took a drink from her cup before continuing. "It was an animal attack. He was in the woods, chopping down a tree, when it happened."
"I tried to save him, I did, but he succumbed to his wounds and died shortly after." She swallowed thickly, a few tears dropping to stain her dress.
Richard squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Deanna. I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't." Deanna replied. "How could you?"
She sighed and untangled their hands. "Mrs. Wickham asked about us today when I was in town. She wanted to know why I spend so much time with you and if you're going to make an honest woman of me."
Richard stared at her for a moment, he knew he had been spending a lot of time with Deanna, but not so much that the villagers would begin to notice.
"I told her that we were just friends and colleagues and to not jest about such things."
The two finished dinner quietly and made plans to meet again before Richard had to leave the village. In the following weeks after Richard's departure, a new face was seen around the village of Salem, that of the new town Magistrate. He had just come from England and was under order of the king to root out any and all witches in Salem. Or at least that's what the paperwork said.
He was an older gentleman with long gray hair and a striking figure. The most striking bit being his loss of one eye. According to the magistrate he had lost it in a sword fight when he was younger. Deanna wouldn't have been surprised if it had been over a woman, something about the magistrate just made her skin crawl and she had no idea why. It might have something to do with the way he kept looking at her, like he had seen her before. Whatever the reason was, it gave her the creeps, and she did her best to avoid him. Lately that had proven harder and harder to do, he was everywhere. Their newest run in had been at the candle maker's.
Everyone knew that the magistrate was without a wife and that he was looking for a new one, when he wasn't scouring the village for the devil's minions, that is. When he learned the Deanna was a widow, his pursuit of her had doubled.
"Mrs. Wilshire, a pleasure to see you as always." Magistrate Walker nodded to her. "And what brings you to town today?"
Deanna tried not to grimace as she smiled hello in return. "Magistrate. I needed to place an order for some candles and wanted to see the new holders that had come in."
"Would you like assistance? I'd be happy to help you." he said, moving to carry Deanna's basket.
Deanna moved out of his way. "No. Thank you. I can finish my errands on my own. If you'll excuse me." Deanna stepped around the Magistrate and continued on her way. She shivered as she entered the tailor's shop, wishing that Richard was there.
The magistrate sighed in frustration as he watched Deanna leave. This was not going as he had planned. He knew it wouldn't be easy, he had planned for that, but her steadfast refusing just made it all worse. She had met Loki in this life alright. He turned and walked away, vanishing once he was in between two of the buildings.
Deana waited in the tailor's shop for a little bit before leaving to begin her trip home. On the way out of town, she stopped by the farrier to talk to another member of the townsfolk and to pet his horse. James Singer had come to her for help with his wife. They were expecting a baby and he wanted something to help his wife be able to keep down what she ate. James was happy to let Deana know that the remedies that she had given Hannah were working nicely and she was able to eat almost normally. Deana smiled. "That's very good to hear. I'll be by soon to check on her and the baby." She petted the horse of his that was waiting for the farrier. "It was a pleasure to see you too Elizabeth." she whispered in the horse's ear and left.
No one really understood what had happened afterwards, but the horse began to act out of character for herself. She was a horse that James had owned since he had been a teen and she was a sweet, gentle horse, wouldn't hurt anyone. That couldn't be said now, a while after Deanna had left she had begun to act strangely. She had bitten James, fought with the farrier and kicked out at any that had tried to contain her. It all culminated with her kicking James as he tried to grab at her reins, the blow from her sharp hooves hitting him squarely in the chest, killing him. Elizabeth reared once and fell over dead herself.
Odin watched all of this happen, invisible next to a building, he smiled as the horse died and the townsfolk gathered, whispering about what had happened. He watched the preacher in the crowd of people as they all talked. Turning himself visible again, Odin walked up to the preacher and whispered softly to him.
"It was the strangest thing. I saw Deanna and James talking and she petted the horse and talked to it before she left. Afterwards, the horse acted like this."
"That is rather odd, but Deanna's talked with animals before, most people do." the preacher replied.
"I know, it's a common enough habit and I don't want to point fingers, but..." Odin trailed off. "It's just odd is all, she talks to them and both James and his horse die awhile later." The preacher nodded in agreement and Odin walked away.
People didn't really start talking about the possibility of a witch and who it might be until people started to die. It was only a couple of people, and the only thing that they had in common was that they both had been to see Deanna about a stomach problem. Both had complained about upset stomachs and the herbs she gave them, helped calm their stomachs down. Both had died after coughing up copious amounts of green bile and bloody stomach acid. The preacher had his suspicions and Odin was going to point them in the right direction.
"See? She is up to something! People who came to her for help have died. These people were fine until they went to her."
"She is a well received member of this community Magistrate, but I understand your point, others have come to me with the same concerns. Perhaps we should talk to her and try to clear things up."
The preacher really didn't want to believe the things that were being said. He knew Deanna and trusted her to do what was right. He and Odin were joined by several of the other townsfolk, most of whom were convinced that Deanna was a witch. Odin was content to let the people think as they wanted, but the preacher tried with very little success, to instill some reason in the group's mind. Odin decided to step in then, the last thing he needed was for someone to try to take things into their own hands.
"We are not accusing her outright, we want to talk to her, to see if there is another explanation."
"And if she is a witch?" one of the crowd asked.
"Then we will take her into custody." Odin replied.
It was at the edges of the farms that the group began to suspect that there was more to Deana than she presented in public. The howling started as they came to the farms, becoming louder and more insistent as they passed them. Shadows darted past the group, the wolves barking to each other and snapping at them. Their howling swept past the group and they stopped as a pack of wolves, nine of them, stepped into the path in front of them.
"See how they guard her?" Odin asked.
"I do." the preacher replied. He turned his attention to the wolves. "Be gone with you, foul beasts of Hell. Away, demons of the dark!" The preacher made the sign of the cross and chanted prayers in Latin. The wolves stayed where they were, growling softly in warning.
"Move along." Odin commanded them silently. The wolves growled threateningly one more time and ran away.
The group moved on.
As they approached Deanna's home, two ravens circled and landed on the roof of the house. The light shone on their feathers, turning them a glossy black with blue and green highlights.
"Ravens! The messengers of Satan himself." the preacher cried out. He truly hadn't wanted to believe it, but first the wolves and now the ravens... Deanna was a witch, there was now no doubt. Odin tried not to laugh at hearing this. The ravens were his of course, not Deanna's, but only he need know that.
Deana came out at all the noise going on and demanded to know what was going on. The ravens burst into flames at the preacher's chanting and everyone ducked to avoid the sparks of the flames as they showered down.
"What more proof do you need?" Odin whispered to the preacher. Standing up, he said "Deanna Wilshire, you are accused of witchcraft and of being the devil's consort. You are under arrest." he moved to bind her.
"What? I have done no such thing!" Deanna protested.
"The evidence begs to differ." Odin replied, clasping her hands in shackles.
The trial was nothing but a formality and more or less a joke.
"Deanna Wilshire, you are hearby found guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and consorting with the devil. How do you plead?" the magistrate asked. He had found another witch in his midst in Salem Village, it was a shame that this one had to be as lovely as Deanna was.
Deanna stood up, her hands in shackles, pausing to brush a strand of hair off her dirt stained face. Her green eyes flashed in defiance. "I have told you the truth Magistrate Walker, but you refuse to see or believe it. I am no minion of Satan, I was helping those people."
Deanna had been a healer, using herbs and potions to help the sick and injured, she was very good at it. As good as she was, it had attracted some rather high up attention, and not all of that attention had been good for her. It had led to her being accused of witchcraft, simply because she knew better ways of easing the pain of others. It had also led her to a man she loved dearly and would do whatever she could for him. He had been the one to help her perfect her craft. "The only things I am guilty of, is loving someone and helping where needed."
"Since you refuse to repent your evil ways, you are sentenced to death by burning. May God have mercy on your soul."
May he have mercy on your soul. Deanna thought. You need it more then I.
The gavel banged down.
The following day, a large pyre with a platform and stake were erected in the town square and the prisoner was led up and tied to it. Deanna pulled at the ropes binding her to the stake. There was no give whatsoever. Magistrate Walker walked up to the pyre holding an already lit torch.
"This is your last chance to repent." He said, walking up the stairs that had been left for him. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "If you repent now, I can make it easy for you. Just admit the truth."
"I've done nothing wrong. I'll face my death, I welcome it." Deanna replied.
"A pity then." The one eyed man said softly "You would have made a lovely play toy." He stared at her before walking back down the steps and having them set aside. Turning to the crowd of onlookers, he raised his voice to be heard. "Let the record show that the witch, Deanna Wilshire, refuses to repent and is sentenced to death by burning." The torch was lowered to the kindling and soon the pyre was completely ablaze.
By the time the fire began to sear her flesh, Deanna was semi-conscious from smoke inhalation. When her skin caught fire, she began to scream. It was easy to see the smoke from the edge of the village, it was the screaming that made Richard run. By the time he reached the center, Deena was already dead and the fire was consuming her body.
"No!" Richard screamed, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. "What did you do to her?"
"Well, well, well, look who's here. The witch's lover." the magistrate smirked. "Just in time to see her death and earn his own, since he taught her. Seize him!"
The magistrate's guards moved to grab Richard.
"I am no witch!" Richard shouted as he struggled in the guards grip.
"You have been seen with the accused and tried, therefore you must be a witch." Walker replied.
"I am not!" Richard snarled, slamming an elbow into the stomach of one of the guards and wrenching himself free.
"The evidence speaks against you, sir. You have been seen with the witch and have taught her evil. You have strange trinkets with you and practice stranger medicines. I name you witch." The magistrate intoned, looking Richard in the eye as the guards grabbed for him again.
"I am no witch and neither was she, you bastard." Richard growled out. "You only burned her because she rejected you."
"Take him to the jailhouse, he'll await trial there." The Magistrate said to the guards.
The next morning when Magistrate Walker came to Richard's cell, he had vanished, the door still locked. The Magistrate wasn't happy about it and demanded to know how he had gotten out. No one knew, no one had seen him leave. There were runes written on the walls and while none of the humans could make heads or tails of it, Odin could. They were insults about his mother and the mouth of a goat. According to all sources, the Magistrate swore a blue streak upon reading them, before storming out.