Haunted {Dean Winchester 1}

Chapter 32

Scarecrow

"It's not every day I get a research question on pagan ideology." The professor says as we follow him down a set of stairs. 

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby."

"You said you were interested in local lore?" The professor asked. 

"Yes, sir, we are." I nodded my head, trying to ignore the warmth seeping into my skin from Dean's hand on my waist. 

"I'm afraid Indiana isn't known for its pagan worship." 

"What if it was imported?" Dean asked. "Like the pilgrims bought their religion over? Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants? Like that town near here, Burkitsville? Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, Northern Europe, I believe. Scandanavia." 

"What can you tell us about those pagan gods?" 

The professor laughed. "Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses." 

"We're actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard."

___

The professor led us to his office where he then pulled out a large book, flipping through the pages. "Woods god. Well, let's see."

Eventually, we come across a page with a picture of a scarecrow.

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

"That's not a woods god, per se." The professor informed us. 

"The V-Vanir." Dean began. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping local settlements safe from harm. The villages built effigies in their fields of the Vanir. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male and one female."

"Kind of looks like a scarecrow, don't you think?" I tap my finger against the page.

"I suppose." The professor mutters.

"This particular Vanir's power sprung from a scared tree?" Dean reads questioningly.

"The Norse believed all sorts of thing were infused with magic." 

"So what would happen if the scared tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?"

The professor laughed. "Son, these are just legends."

"Oh, of course. Yeah, you're right." Dean held out his hand to shake. "Listen, thank you very much."

Dean set his hand on my waist, leading me toward the door. I pulled it open. Before I could realize what was happening, the sheriff hit me with the butt of his gun. 

The world went dark.

___

I was pacing the small floor of the cellar we'd been thrown into. My head was throbbing, pain thumping against my skull. We have no phones, no way out, we were going to be fed to a scarecrow. 

The walls seemed to be closing in on me. My chest felt tight. 

"Si?" Dean's voice cut through the quiet.

I turn to look at him as he sat against a wall. 

"You okay there, sweetheart?" He asked.

"I'm...I'm...alright." 

Dean pushed himself to his feet, moving toward me. "What's wrong?"

Suddenly my reason for not being able to breath was because of him, because he was so close. "We're gonna find a way out of this, right?" I asked, needing the reassurance.