Death in the Mountains

This is my first fan fic, so please review. I barely know that fan fic community or the rules, so any advice is welcome. Please review!

I don’t own the Sharyn McCrumb characters nor the Winchester brothers. Oh, but if I did…


Slight AU. Sam & Dean’s dad died before the pilot. The first episode was actually them hunting what they thought was their dad’s killer.

This is an attempt at a serious story about Sam and Dean Winchester. There will be no incest and there will be numerous original characters and characters from Sharyn McCrumb’s highly praised Ballad series. Some of these characters will speak and think with a Southern Appalachian accent. There will be numerous sex scenes, but they will be part of the overall plot. There will be a great deal of authentic Southern supernatural folklore, Christian mysticism and modern Neo-Pagan magical thought.

If you think you will like this sort of thing, enjoy! Please review!

It was two days after the new moon, and a crescent hung in the air. A slight wind from the north brought a welcome current of cooler, drier air, which was welcome in the foothills of Appalachia in July. Ashera smiled, wishing she could claim credit for it, but with magic, it was always hard to tell, she thought with a wry smile. She was indulging in a rare and dangerous luxury, a private outdoor ritual. The Old Law said that New Moon rituals were supposed to take place on moon dark, but Ashera was never one to follow the rules. She loved the crescent, and always waited until the moon had begun showing its face again. One of the goats in the small field next to her snuffled in the darkness and one of the horses in the barn whinnied. Ashera surveyed the darkness carefully, hoping that there were no teenagers bent on vandalism or nosey neighbors walking their fence lines lurking in the darkness. She had come here with a few close friends to retire, but since they were all able to find jobs in the area they had started the farm over 15 years earlier than they had anticipated. The four of them were delighted to find this run down old farm at a wonderful price. Unfortunately, the real estate agent forgot to tell them that some of the most conservative churches in the state are located in the County. They had all dashed back into the broom closet as soon as possible.

The others were all away, visiting children away at college or family and friends in other states. Ashera, considerably the youngest of the three of them and the furthest from retirement, had stayed behind because of work and to feed the horses and goats and to look after the vegetable and herb gardens. She wished the three of them were home with her. Ashera was sure that between the four of them they could settle the uneasiness she was feeling. There had been a series of strange deaths that left her uncomfortable. She would like to know more about the circumstances of these deaths, but since she was a newcomer to these parts getting information out of the good ole boy network was nearly impossible.

Ashera did the only thing she could do. She called on her Goddesses and Gods to help. Now all she could do was remain quiet and keep her eyes and ears open. Sometimes the Gods answered requests in the strangest and least expected of ways. She would have to be watchful to see how this help might manifest itself.


Dean and Sam were at loose ends outside Chattanooga, Tennessee after finishing a job. They were still recovering in a cheap motel after tangling with an Uktena spirit in an area ranging from a park on the Tennessee River to a local college campus in downtown Chattanooga.

“Fucking idiots” Dean grumbled with irritation.

“Oh, come on, not everyone sees a bunch of people die from heart attacks and thinks, ‘oh, there’s an ancient Native American monster frightening people to death” Sam snarled back. Even though he had willingly joined his brother “hunting again” after Dad’s and Jessica’s deaths, he resented Dean’s assumptions that average people believe that the creatures they hunt exist. The normal person didn’t know what half the things were that they hunted. Sam wished he were one of those people.

“Sam, they should have known, especially the anthropology and history departments at that school. One of those old buzzards specialized in local history and another actually dug up those Indians. And then they built the school bands marching field right over some kind of concentration camp where they rounded up Indians to get them together for the Trail of Tears! Even your ‘normal’ people should have known there would be some kind of problem.”

“By the way, the term is ‘Native American’, not Indian. Someone at the college did help us destroy the Uktena.” Sam gritted his teeth and tried to sound reasonable. He was beginning to hate looking at shabby curtains while sitting in dark rooms. At least the air conditioning was working, even though the place stank of stale cigarette smoke.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Ok, mister touchy-feely politically correct college guy, ‘Native American’. This wasn’t a happy ending. That Jason kid was expelled and sent back to west bum fuck, and those idiots don’t realize how many people he saved. Why don’t you go back and try to explain this to your ‘normal’ people and see what they say.” Dean’s voice was rising. Sam mentally winced. Sounded like he was winding up for a good fight. Dean was no longer slumped on the bed but trying to sit up and face him. Sam knew he would have a hard time trying to hit him; cracked ribs would do that to a guy.

Sam sighed. “Christ! His name is Jay, not Jason. You are so concerned about him and you can’t remember his name? He didn’t go in blind and knew what could happen if he got caught stealing those bones and carved shells for us. Besides, he is appealing his expulsions. That Light Feather guy we gave the stuff to for a proper reburial is helping out with that” Sam shuddered a bit at the memory. “I’m glad he is helping Jay, but damn, that man gave me the creeps.”

“What’s the matter little bro, spidey senses tingling?” Dean was a little jealous of Sam’s unexpected psychic ability. He shouldn’t tease him about it. As usual, Sam wasn’t grateful for what he had, and with this he was trying to deny his ability rather than use it. They said that psychic ability ran in families. He wondered if he got it from Mom, because Dad sure as hell didn’t have it. He guessed Sam could be jealous of him because he actually had memories of Mom. If that were the case, he guessed they were even. Maybe when he wasn’t so sensitive about it he’d let Sam know he thought he had a little something extra of Mom. He hoped that would get him over this denial shit and get him to actually try to use it.

Trying not to wince in pain, Dean laid back. “Hey, just find a phone book & order us some pizza. I’m hungry.”

Something in Sam snapped. “I’m fucking tired of eating pizza and crappy fast food! It’s disgusting and I feel like I’m turning into a giant grease slick”. Dean’s half closed eyes snapped open to stare at his brother. “I’m taking the car, going to a damned Wal-mart and buying a cooler. Then I’m getting some decent food to put in it!” he yelled.

Dean stared at him for a moment. “Here” he growled, throwing the car keys at Sam’s head. “Just don’t expect me to eat any God damned rabbit food, Mr. College Guy. Remember the room key, ‘cause if you forget I’m not letting you back in” he snarled. “While your at it, get a fucking tent & some sleeping bags so we can play boy scouts while we’re at it.”

Sam unexpectedly smiled.

“Good idea”.