No Light Without Darkness

Chapter 2: Dead or Alive

May 13th, 2pm
Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Dean walked down the Street taking in the City of Jackson. “Woa, they really dig the Western style don’t they?” Dean craned his neck trying to take in the new surroundings. He had to find out that this might not have been the best of ideas for the day as his abused neck and shoulders tightened up in protest. He started rubbing the sore muscles with a hiss. “Man, I’m telling you sometimes I feel too old for this bussiness.”
His brother gave him a sympathetic pet on the shoulder – which was really not helping the pain there – and Dean shrugged the hand away staightening himself agan. Sam was reading a tourism flyier he had picked up at the info center. “The people of Jackson seem to pride themselves in preserving the Cowbow lifestyle… Though most of the city’s income seems to come from the tourism industry due to the elks and the good premises for a ski resort. The town was named after a Trapper who hunted beavers down here.”
Dean snorted a disdainful laugh. “Beavers huh? And for such a fundamental contribution to society he got a whole city. Life’s unfair.”
“Other hunters gave the land the name Hole because they mostly came over those montains and felt like climbing down into a pit.” Sam indicated the huge mountains that enclosed two sides of the town.
“Nice… Must have been like hell here in winter.” Dean was cold , although it was May and he didn’t like being cold at all.
“Well maybe after it froze over… I think it’s actually quite charming here.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah cold, enclosed and hunting ground of a supernatural beasty. Your such a romantic Sammy.”
“Whatever.” He returned his attention to the flyer he was reading. “Everything you see here is meant to show you the life of the real Cowboys”, Sam said as they passed the Cowboy Museum.
Dean just couldn’t resist. He started singing in a low tone:
“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I’m wanted dead or alive” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam who didn’t seem to notice.
”I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side
I’m wanted dead or alive”
He grinned at Sam who just kept reading the tourist informations. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” He couldn’t believe Sam didn’t even twich a muscle at him singing that song.
Sam folded the flyer and looked up. “Nothing. What are you talking about, Dean?”
Dean gave him the who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-to-my-brother-look. He held out his hands in front of him in an animating gesture. “C’mon, Sammy! I was singing Bon Jovi.”
Sam only shrugged. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“And you got nothing to say to this? No stupid comment?” He shook his head in disbelief.
Sam imitated his move. “No, Bon Jovi rocks.”
Deans mouth fell open. He had had no idea. “Only on occasions, Sammy. Only on occasions! … I never knew you were so far gone when it came to music. This is creepy.”
Sam only rolled is eyes and started looking over the next flyer of his stack.
“Woa, that’s a lot of antlers.” Dean stopped in his stride.
“Huh?” it was a miracle Sam hadn’t been hit by a car – or even a horse drawn carriage for these came down the streets of Jackson quite frequently offering rides to the tourists – by now as he didn’t even watch where he was going. So Sam bumped right into Dean as he halted. “What, Dean?”
“As I said”, he indicated the park entrance across the street “A lot of antlers.” The gate to the park in the midle of Jackson was not as much of a gate then the epitome of biological recycling. It was an archway made of dozens – maybe even hundreds - of antlers that were tiled into each other and made the huge bow look like an array of bleached and dried thorned branched– probably from the elks Sam had mentioned earlier. “Now I understand why a supernatural carnivore like a Black Dog will feel just like home in this city.”

May 13th, 3pm
Lazarus, Nebraska

“Yeah sure Dean, you got everything important… you are so unorganized it hurts.” Sam was more then just a little pissed at his brother right now.
“Oh come on Sammy, everyone can forget one thing or the other from time to time.” Dean shrugged apologetically and got out if the truck. Somehow Sam was a little impressed by the fact that Dean didn’t seem to be even a little stiff after the beating he had taken the day before. But he got out as well and threw the driver’s door of their truck closed with a little more force then absolutely necessary – something he wouldn’t dare if it were the Impala. “Yeah, sure Dean. But I asked you if we needed to get something from the Impala and you claimed you had everything.” He walked around the car and watched Dean digging in his bag. He pulled out a Jeans Jacked and slipped it on.
“I never said I got everything. Just that I had my bag and an assortment of weapons.” Dean’s nonchalant tone made Sam even more angry. “But forgetting our ID-box, Dad’s journal and your leather jacket in the car?” Sam made a point of counting along with his fingers. “Oh and let’s not forget your cellphone which was in the jacket of course. I’m amazed you didn’t forget your head as well.”
Dean closed the door to the truck and gave Sam a leveled look. “We’ll survive a week without my cellphone and I just spend two hours making us new ID s in the copyshop.”
Sam exhaled slowly. He wouldn’t argue anymore about this. His brother was as stubborn as a mule and there was no way to make him see Sam’s reasoning. “Okay. Then let’s just get to work.”
“Just what I wanted to suggest right now.”
Sam shook his head starting down the street Dean following him closely. “Jerk.” A monster truck drove by but Sam assumed Dean answered him with the obligatory ‘bitch’, he just couldn’t hear it over the engine’s rumbling.

May 13th, 4.30pm
Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Dean picked his brother up in front of the library. He had visited to the tourist information spot again interviewing the clerk – disguised as an animal control officer – and had afterwards checked the museum and the elder lady who worked there dressed in a late eighteenth century cowgirl outfit about local lore and legends and former problems with disappearences or deaths connected to animals. As far as he could see there had been nothing until two years ago. Then people started to die, five at least being mauled and a few more missing in the valley. Some people had claimed to have seen wolves or a blackbear but the sheriff hadn’t found any overly aggressiv animals in the area.
Sam opened the passenger side door and got in looking distictly pissed. Dean shot him a questining look. “What’s up?”
Sam sighed. “I was robbed.”
Dean lifted an eyebrow. “Robbed?”
“My backpack… I had it leaning against the teble I was working on… someone nicked it.”
“You’re kidding right? Did you even bring it? I can’t remember seeing it snce we left New Mexico.”
Sam gave him a stern look. “Yes Dean. It’s gone… and my laptop and cellphone with it.”
Dean groaned. “Oh ain’t that just great! What kind of a hunter are you if you don’t even notice some ruddy thief sneaking up on you? I never thoght you of all people could be so careless!”
The younger winchester brother looked like he was close to dtangling Dean. “Just give me a break and tell me what you got, will you?”
Dean shortly briefed him on his findings of the last two hours. “What about you? Any breakthrough?”
Sam had a stack of copies from books and news paper articles on his lap and started rummaging through them. “Nothing concrete yet… but there are articles in the local papers about the deaths and look at this.” He held a copy of an article out for Dean to see. It covered two collumns and covered the most recent of the deaths that just happened two weeks ago. There was the picture of a teenage girl sitting in a police car behind taped of area where you could see a Ford pickup truck that had definitely seen better days. It looked like a grizzly had played football with the front fender.
“Well I dare say that this was definitely not a wolf.”
Sam nodded pointing out the girl. “The article stated that the girl was in shock after watching the attack on her father. He told her to shut herself into a supply box on the back of the truck when he was attacked. The girl didn’t get a scratch but she claims to have seen a huge shaggy black dog or wolf dragging her Dad under the truck. Officially the sheriff believes it to have been a hungy male blackbear. They say the girl was probably too shocked and got it mixed up.”
Dean nodded pursing his lips. “Or they just have no idea what they’re dealing with and the girl saw exactly what she says she saw.”
Sam nodded packing away the article.
Dean started the Impala again. “Does this girl have a name?”
Sam picked a small notebook from his stack and opened it. “Veronica McWright. I got her adress, too.”
Dean pulled back into traffic behind a horse drawn carriage that went annoyingly slow. “Looks like Wild Life Services is going to have some questions to Miss McWright.”

The ride didn’t take long and Dean parked the Impala on the side of the street a few houses down of the western style log house that Sam had guided him to. They each grabbed their fake ID and set out with a dutyful stride along the slodewalk and up the front lawn. Sam knocked and they waited patiently for someone to answer. A pair of feet rushed over the floor inside. Dean could tell by the way the person walked that it probably was a woman. The curtains on the small window in the door were drawn aside and a female face surrounded by brown curles was visible. “Yes?” It was a girls voice. Dean put on the most comforting smile he had in his repertoire answering the unasked question of who they were and what the heck they wanted flashing his fake ID. “Good afternoon Miss McWright. My name is David Fouler and this is Ted Evans. We are from the Wild Life Service. We wondered if we could come in for a moment and talk to you about the terrible incident from two weeks ago…”
The door opened and Dean saw the girl from the news paper clipping. She was about fifteen and still growing into her five feet four frame. She was all long legs and thin arms still missing the softness around the edges that differed the girl from the woman. She looked tired and sad and Dean couldn’t hold it against her. “The police has already talked to me… you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” She wanted to shut the door again but Dean put out his hand to hold it open.
“Try me”, he said soberly. “We know what you told the police and I for my part don’t think that’s crazy. They just don’t know what to look for. That’s why we would like to hear it from you directly.” He met her gaze unwavering and saw her scepicism falter. She let out a breath and stepped aside letting them in.
“My mom’s at work. But do you want something to drink?” She guided them into a living room with a set of soft couches in front of a big fireplace. Dean shook his head and Sam mirrored him. The girl went to the mantle of the fireplace and picked a picture of her with a tall man in his fourties. He had a beard that started to become grey around the edges. “That’s my Dad.” She handed Dean the picture he looked at it and only nodded. He let the girl talk. “We were a bit outside of the town. Our truck had a flat tire and Dad was changing it he asked me to grab im the car-jack from the supply box… There’s not much in there but a few bottles of cooling fluid, a can of oil and the car-jack.” She took the picture back and replaced it lovingly on it’s spot on the mantle. “I was sitting on the supply box when I saw something glow behind dad in the woods. I was scared and he tuned around. He told me to get into the box and I obeyed. The lid doesn’t close right so I could see through the gap.” She hugged herself and sat down on a cusioned chair naxt to Dean looking hm in the face. He listened carefully willing her to go on. “I know it’s unreal to tell you this. But… There was no bear. I am sure I saw a dog – maybe a wolf but it looked like a dog to me. It was huge. I don’t know how many pounds but massive.”
Dean nodded daring to prod deeper. “Was it about the size of a calf?”
She looked at him stunned for a moment. “Yeah. Yes that’s how big it was. It was black with a shaggy long coat and it had these big burning eyes like no animal I’ve ever heard of. They were so scary…” Dean could see goose bumps on her arms and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with big frightened eyes. “It jumped him. Didn’t even growl or bark first just grabbed him and pulled him under the truck. I was like petrified for a few minutes but I couldn’t just hide anymore. So I grabbed a wrench that was in the box and got out… It was gone.”
Sam frowned leaning towards her. “What do you mean by ‘gone’?”
“I was there the whole time and I didn’t see or hear it leave. It pulled Dad under the truck and everything went silent and when I checked a minute later it was gone.” She shook her head and rubbed a palm over her face. “It was as big as a calf and it just vanished into thin air.”
Dean nodded. He was sure now that this was a Black Dog. “Thank you , Veronica. That will help us a lot.”
She got up a little shakily. “You believe me?”
Sam frowned at Dean but kept his silence. “I believe you told us exactly what you saw.” He assured her.
She gave him a little smile. “Thanks. What are you going to do now?”
Dean flashed her his most charming smile as she guided them back to the door. “Now we’ll find it and make sure it won’t attack anyone ever again.” He was serious and she could see it. The girl nooded a stern nod and they left.

Back in the car Sam looked at him a little disbelieving. “As huge as a calf?”
Dean nodded and dug in the Impala’s glove department for their Dad’s jounal. “Yep. Have you ever seen a Black Dog, Sammy?” His brother shook his head. “Thought so.” He flipped the pages looking for the right page. “A Black Dog is a spirit being. Most are reported to be black, the size of a calf, with flaming red or yellow eyes as big as saucers and they happen to appear and vanish like thin air.”
Sam nodded. “So what Veronica just despribed is the perfect prototype of a Black Dog.”
Dean nodded and shoved the ope journal at Sam prodding the page with his finger. There was the illustration of an ugly, big and shaggy black dog standing on a pile of bones, it’s eyes flashing yellow. “There’s a lot of lore about them. Some say they guard streets or bridges, others they are connected to people or situations and sometimes they are descibed as a death omen, like the Grimm.”
Sam looked the desciptions in the book over carefully while Dean talked on. “But not all Black Dogs are necessarily black, just mostly. There are also some reported to have horns or just one eye or several heads…” Sam looked at him with a slightly disgusted face. Dean grinned. “The last one I killed had no head at all… that was unpleasant.”
Sam shook his head and closed the journal. “God, Dean. You’re like a walking Encyclopedia when it comes to these things.”
Dean shugged. “I like hunting Black Dogs.”
Sam looked at him like he was utterly mad. “They are murderous, hideous looking beasts who can vanish into thin air!”
“Yeah isn’t it great?” His fingers were already iching. “I told you before: Invisible killers are my favorite type.” Dean knew that his childlike joy about hunting Black Dogs was probably something a psychiatrist could earn his rent with but he couldn’t help it. He had hunted three Black dogs in his twenty years in the job. The first one was with their dad when he was eighteen and had just finished Highschool. After killing that one his dad had clapped him on the shoulder with a satisfied look and Dean knew it was a job well done. The next Black Dog that crossed their path was shortly after Sam had left for college and it became Dean’s first one man job. Ever since he couldn’t hep himslef, he just loved the hunt for this particular kind of supernatural badass.

May 13th, 5pm
Lazarus, Nebraska

Sam didn’t know when his conscience had given up on criticising all the little illegal actions he did ever since he started hunting with Dean again. But he didn’t feel the slightest tinge of regret as he cracked the lock to the ten year old Honda that had belonged to Leroy Mathews, the guy that had staked himself on top of the Lazarus Methodist church’s belltower. Dean was off gathering information the good oldfashioned way with a fake ID and a good con.
The Honda was parked in an off-main street and there was noone around at this time of day. This town was even smaller then the one they just came from and that ought to say something. He opened the door and his the car cracking tools from sight as fast as possible checking the usual places to keep your valuables in a vehicle – he had already opened the trunk and found nothing but a couple of empty beer cans and an adult magazine. After grabbing around under the seat and in the side of the doors – it was weird not to feel the butt of a shotgun there like he did in the Impala – he opened the glove department. Checkpot!
Sam pulled out a battered looking stash of notebooks held together by a bubber band wrapped around them. He slipped it off and opened the first book. It was kind of a diary. Perfect. If anything weird had happened in that guys life he would have written it down. He ad one las look inside the glove compartment closed it and got out of the car stuffing his newest find under his jacket. He shut the car door and made his way back to their little motel room. He had a lot to read.

As Dean joined him in the dimly lit room of “The New Rising - Motel” they had rented into Sam had filed the journals in a chronological oreder and started drawing himslef an outline of crazy Leroy’s personality. What he found made him pessimistic to say the least.
Dean closed the door to their room behind himself and threw his jacket onto the bed humming some merry tune of which Sam was sure that for once it was not Metallica. “Dean, I think we might have a problem…”
His brother looked at him with a questioningly lifted eyebrow.
“It seems that our friend Leroy had a history of mental disorder. I checked his car and found a couple of journals that date back until two years ago. Seems like the guy was in therapy for depressions and anxiety and such. The therapist told him to keep diary in order to keep track of what is going on in his life and his feelings. It looks like he was doing pretty good for a while, ended his therapy and all… but about six months ago the entries start turning really ugly… either the guy was really nuts or there is a lot of evil going on in this town.” Sam was worried. From what he had read there might be something of their kind of work going down here.
Dean sat down on the bed. “What kind of crazy stuff did the guy write?”
Sam started flipping pages of the most recent notebook. “Well it looks like the guy had some troubles with his girlfriend…”
“The dead Ester?”
Sam nodded. “She looks to have been real jelous and from what I could find she had all reason to. The guy was not really the honest and true kind of guy. I bet he kept the journals in his car so she wouldn’t find them.” He scratched his head as his thoughts were brought off course by a stray thought. “I wonder why the police didn’t care to look inside the car and check for evidence… I mean it’s a town of less then fourhundred people or so. They must know which car was his…” After what had happened he had imagined a thorough investigation.
Dean shrugged. “Well maybe they were busy hoistig the guy’s body from the top of that tower...” The mental image was unpleasant and Sam gave hos brother a stern look. Dean didn’t seam to notice.
“Yeah but still… It’s been three days.” He shook his head. “That’’s just the kind of crappy policework you always complain about when it comes to smalltown police.”
Dean shrugged at that and Sam could only frown at his brother. Normally he would be all over the matter but he seemed preoccupied. “What else did you find, Sammy? It’s not really evil manifested when a guy is unfaithful and his girl is jelous about it.”
Sam took a deep breath. “No… but when he believes that she can transfigure herself into a cat and supervises his every move it might be.”
Dean looked at him point blank. “The dude thought his girlfriend was a kitty?”
Sam nodded. “Well evil can manifest in many different disguises… I mean there are hundreds of reports about the devil looking like a goat or a black cat...”
“Or a poodle…” Dean grinned.
Sam was a little stunned. “Dude, I can’t believe you actually read Faust.”
Dean shrugged. “The things you don’t know could fill a book, Sammy. But do you really think that this guy’s girlfriend was the Devil?”
“No.” He closed the journal. “But she might be limikkin.”
“A what?” Sam was pleased at the fact that what Dean didn’t know would fill quite a few pages itself, obviously.
“A Skinwalker.” He gave is brother a charming smile and received a dirty look from Dean.
“Then why don’t you say Skinwalker?”
“Limikkin is the Mohawk word… it’s often used as kind of an umbrella term for all kinds of shapeshifters and lycanthropes.”
“I swear sometimes you’re such a geek!” Now it was Sam’s time to roll his eyes.
“What about you, Dean? I mean you have been cruising town for quite a while… anything intersting?”
Dean shrugged – he did that a lot since they started this case and it somehow gave Sam the impression that his brother was either not really on track or hiding something. No matter wich was the case, he didn’t like it at all. “The police got nothing but they are still waiting on the report form the medical examiner… up to now they can’t even identify the girlfriends burned remains with any clarity.”
“So it’s not sure whether she is dead or alive?”
“If you’re suggesting she is rummaging around town with Mr. Tinkles and Ms. Wiskers… then yes.”

May 14th, 12am
Beaver’s Inn Motel
Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Dean sat on one bed of the cowboy styled Motel room they stayed in. He had lighted canles in every corner of the room and had assorted all the necessities round him on the bed. He sat cross-legged and checked everything over in his mind. The flowers he had spent all morning collecting from the park and various shops lay next to a carton of rocksalt, a flask of holywater a youple of wooden beads and other wicca-goodies he had purchased that morning.
The room smelled like a cheep parfume - way to much flower and way to little moshus - that was a disturbing thought. He pulled out a roll of yarn and began his handywork for the afternoon: Braiding a lei from the flowers attentive to insert a bead at the right places and dust the flowers with salt before dripping holy water on the beads. The work went slow but Dean was as calm as ever. Normally he hated this kind of work… he was more the shooting and killing type of guy. But he knew he would get that as long as he did this piece of the job thoroughly enough.
He got up and carried his freshly made flower-necklace along. He went to the corners of the room blowing out the candles one at a time and dripping some of their wax onto the flowers. As he had just finished the door opened and Sam came in. His face screwed up as he stepped onto the threshold. “Woa dude, what’s that smell?” He squinted at the room which by now was slightly smoky and the air was heavy on the scent of flowers, salt and melted wax. “Are you having a séance or something?”
Dean held up the accomplishment of that day’s work. “That’s gonna show that hellspawn just who is on top of the foodchain here.” He was highly satisfied with himself and actually took it as slightly insulting when Sam put a hand over his nose and stepped into the room to open the window as wide as he possibly could.
After that Sam seemed to breath more freely again. “You’re gonna kill a demonic monster dog with a wicca-neckless? That’s a joke right.” Sam frowned at him.
Dean flashed a grin. “Works every time, Sammy-boy.”
“How?” Sam looked anything but convinced.
“Oh ye without faith…” He looked at his newest flowery weapon and gave sam a shake of his head. “Sceptics.” He clicked his toungue and started to explain. “Well it’s actually pretty easy. Black Dogs are spirit being. They are more energy then form like ghosts. But there is no bones salt and burn when you’re working against a Black Dog. So what we have to do is catch the spirit.” He looked at Sam to see if his brother was following and got a nod in return. “So what we’re gonna do is kinda like a bear trap. This lei – I made one for you as well by the way just to be sure - is made after a special pattern from materials that for one are spirit repellants like salt or holy water but also from materials that are closely linked to this plane of existence if you may. So if We throw it around it’s neck the spirit will be trapped in it’s cuurent form. It can’t vanish anymore… can’t run or hide. It’ll be as corporeal. Then all we have to do shoot it with consecrated bullets and have ourselves a nice little salt ‘n burn.”
“And how do you suggest we get that necklace around the beasts neck?”
“Now that’s gonna be the fun part, little brother.”

A/N: Second chapter done for and when I look at the pace I’m going I would estimate about two or three more until we’re done. This story is rolling right now and maybe just maybe I will have it all done with four or five more evenings of work… Yay.
Okay, those who noticed my Episode hints: You are at least as obsesses as me but I love you for it! The others: Don’t mind it doesn’t make any difference. As some might have niticed.
I ignored the one little conversation Sam and Dean have about Black Dogs in "Crossroad Blues", it was involuntairy but I only noticed after the fic was done and I didn't find it important enough to change the whole plot about it... so forgive me, please.
The Bon Jovi Song used as this chapter’s title, "Dead or Alive" by the way, is the song Dean and Sam sing in “No Rest For The Wicked” the season 3 final… but who didn’t know that already??