Title: Springtime in Winter’s Discontent
Fandom: Crossover Supernatural /American Gods (Horus and Easter). Actually, it’s kind of a sequel to Waiting for Easter
Rating: Oh, I don’t know. PG. I mean someone dies and there’s mild swearage. But at most people grope in a park. Well, and you know, fight the undead.
Summary: Have you been on the S.F. vampire walking tour? Well, it’s that restaurant where people disappeared. Mwahahahaha. Only now, and actually vampires, and it’s been going on for a hundred years. Sam and Dean, they investigate. Get stuck with Horus and his amazing magic eye, no the other one. Hijinks and Mochaccino ensue.
Spoilers: Well, Gaiman’s American Gods, Germanic and Egyptian Mythology, Supernatural up to Benders, and some slight White Wolf references.

A standard disclaimer is everyone’s friend. I own none of these characters, although Horus may not even own himself.



12:34 p.m. San Francisco, California.

The sun was shining brightly in an achingly clear blue sky.

There was clearly something wrong.

“I’m just saying that if I’d a wanted sunshine, I’d a moved to San Diego.” Angela poked at the emaciated carrot sticks in her Tupperware while talking into her cell. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Angela sealed the container up again. Why did she even bother. Vegetables always seemed like such a great idea at breakfast (well, after weighing), but come lunchtime, the scales were like so hours ago. “Look I’m just saying in February, it should be cold and cloudy.” Angela stood up from her slab of cement in the paramp (like a park, only more like a stamp) and began to walk back down the hill towards work. “Where’s my clouds? Where’s my gloom.”

Angela paused in front of a little diner. Its window was plastered with signs: Home Fries – Real Grease for Real People!, Taste the Eighth Malted Wonder of the World!!, Cheese Burger Made Only WHEN You Order!!! and so on.

Angela said, “Look Samantha, I’ll call you later. I’m going to grab something to eat.” She opened the door and went in. “No, I’m not going off my diet. Hey, I walked all the way to Grace today. I deserve some real food.” Angela rolled her eyes and nodded at the stick of a waitress. “Yeah, whatever. Talk to you tonight. Cool. Bye.”

Angela snapped her cell shut and tossed it into her purse. She smiled at the waitress, “I saw the signs and I just couldn’t resist. Sit anywhere?”

The waitress shrugged and shuffled over to a stack of menus.

“Oh, kay,” said Angela. She sat down at the only free table (that was a good sign) near the papered window (at least she could get away from the infernal sunshine). Angela smiled up at the waitress.

The waitress stared at her for a moment and handed her a menu. Angela took it and drummed her fingers on the warped plastic. “So, hey, do you believe this weather? It feels like September or something.”

The waitress shrugged.

Angela put her bag down on the seat next to her, picked it back up, and said, “Yeah, okay, um…I’ll have a cheese burger and a vanilla shake. And umm…I’m not trying anything, but is it alright if I use the bathroom before the food comes.” She waved her arms vaguely in the air. “I feel a bit sticky.”

The waitress shrugged.

Angela stood up. “Don’t let anyone take my seat. I’ll be right back.”

The waitress stared at her.

Angela went to the only door with stick figures on it and opened it. At least the bathroom was clean. She glanced back at the waitress, who was still looking at her. Angela muttered, “Maybe I should’ve stuck to carrots,” went in and closed the door.

There was a dull thud and Angela didn’t have time to realize how true that was.


Twelve hours later. Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California

“I think that went well,” said Easter. She leaned into Horus and rested her head on his shoulder. He smelled like hot sand and myrrh. Like frankincense. Like a young man in the spring of the year.

Horus squeezed her hand and said, “No one died and there was barbeque.”

Easter breathed in her mad boy and the flowers blooming out of season and smiled. “Exactly.”

She pulled Horus off the path and into the trees. The full moon shone down through the branches; casting patterns like blue lace onto the sleeping flowers. She pulled him to their picnic spot and pushed him against their tree. Slipped her fingers under his shirt and skimmed her fingers up his smooth skin. Like skinning a rabbit. Like plucking a hawk. He was pecking her neck with kisses. Whispering something about moonlight eyes and sharp glass. She stepped back to look at her mad fool and stumbled over something. Fell flat on her butt and “Owe!”

She swung her legs around. It was a canvas purse. The weave was stiff and crunchy. It had been dropped in something and then dried. Easter licked the dust on her fingers. Bitter. Copper. Viscera and blood.

The bag was a jumble of odds and ends. A sad little Tupperware full of dried carrots, keys, lipstick, blackberry, wallet with sixty-seven dollars in it. Easter looked at the girl smiling out of the driver’s license. Angela Whitely. 5’3. 147 pounds. Born 4/3/1983. Easter Sunday.

“Oh dear,” said Easter.

Horus crouched next to her and ran his fingers across Angela’s face. “At least there was barbeque.”

Dean shifted restlessly in the trooper’s jacket. Sam had to be stopped. The costumes had to be stopped. Although, the uniform did look pretty good. Purely in a he could pick up chicks kind of way. Not that he had problems. Stupid jacket. And hat hair. This sucked.

Dean knocked on the door and tried to look sincere. Sam, of course, didn’t have to try. Jerk.

A simply lush woman opened the door and smiled like, did they even make women like that anymore. White blond hair and she wasn’t fat, just full. And breasts. Breasts, wow. No bra. And hips. And a rich deep laugh like Irish Cream and he wanted to wallow in it and just…

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs and said, “Good Morning, Ma’am.” Sam held out a fresh badge. “I’m Officer Ulrich and this is Officer Hetfield. We’re looking for Ms. Easter.”

The woman smiled, “Just Easter. Something I can do for you boys?”

Sam nodded, “We’re with the state police. We just have a few questions for you.”

Dean cleared his throat, “Umm…yeah, Miss…uh Easter, if we could come in.”

The woman winked at Dean, “Of course. Come on up. I’m making brownies.” She turned around and swayed up the steep narrow stairs. The smell of chocolate drifted down.

Dean grinned, as he followed her up the stairs.

Sam pushed by him and muttered, “Dean! Cool it.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, what are you blind? And she’s making brownies.” Dean walked through a brightly painted archway into a living room. It was small and cluttered with about a million clashing colors. Gotta love those Hippy Chicks. Door into a kitchen. Door into a bedroom. Bay window on a one story drop.

There was a wiry dark haired man sitting cross legged on a bright yellow papasan in the bay window. He was maybe eighteen. Maybe forty. He had that young old thing going down. The boyfriend from the police report. Horus. Probably changed his name from Carl or Jim or something. Or maybe he was second generation hippy. Moonunit Starchild. Dean snickered.

Horus opened one eye and looked at them and smiled. He said, “I’m wearing pants.”

“Uh, good for you,” said Dean.

Easter called out from the kitchen, “Horus, be a dear, and come help me with this.” Horus jumped up and loped into the kitchen. Definitely eighteen. Lucky kid.

The brothers carefully sat down on a red stuffed couch. The cushions tried to eat them immediately. They struggled back to sit on the edge. Dean took off his hat and scrubbed at his hair.

Sam muttered, “Try to concentrate.” He leaned towards Dean. “Over the last century, there have been dozens of disappearances from within a couple of blocks of Grace Cathedral, but no one’s seen anything. People’re just never heard from again. The last few months it’s been speeding up. There’ve been seven disappearances since December. This is the first time anyone’s even found a trace of anything.”

“Stop with the replay button; I’m the one who told you. I can’t believe you had this in your backyard and never noticed. Slipping kiddo,” said Dean, “and take off your hat.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t taken out by a thirteen year old girl, kiddo,” said Sam. He took off his hat. It was hard to tell if Sam had hat hair or not. Seriously. Scissor. Comb.

Sammy looked tired. Got up this morning looking like hell. Sheets looked like a battlefield. Maybe this gig hadn’t been a good idea. He wouldn’t say what he’d been dreaming about. Dean’d dig it out of him eventually.

Easter came into the room with a tray covered in steamy chocolately baked goodness. Dean snagged one before Sam could be a grandma about it. “Mmm…yum…um…thanks. Oh, milk!”

Horus smiled and handed Dean a full glass of milk, dew beading on the glass.

Dean gulped it down, whole and creamy. Damn. He licked his lips. Milk mustaches are only cool if you’re eight.

Easter leaned forward, which Dean appreciated, and held the tray out to Sam. She said, “Officer Ulrich take one. You won’t owe me anything if you take it. It’s a freely given gift.”

Horus handed a glass of milk to Sam and said, “Easter likes giving gifts. She says they’re fun to unwrap. Like phalluses. I have a phallus. Do you want to see it?”

Dean coughed. Milk in the nose is never good, unless it’s Sammy. Then it was kinda cute.

Easter smiled at Horus. She said, “Maybe later sweetheart,” and put the tray down on the coffee table.

Sam took a brief sip of milk and put the glass down on an Easter egg shaped coaster. Heh, Easter egg. Cute. Sam nibbled on a brownie and then held it in the palm of his hand.

Dean shook his head. Had he taught Sam nothing? Dean winked at Easter and grabbed another brownie.

Easter laughed and sat down on a puffy pink foot stool. Horus perched at her feet and leaned against her legs, smiled a canary eating grin. Not all there, but lucky.

Sam put the brownie down on the edge of a magazine about macramé and pulled out a pad of paper. “So, Ma’am,”

Easter wagged her finger. “Easter.” She flipped back her hair. Dean inhaled a breath of spring something. Now if she’d just lean forward again.

Sam smiled, “So, Easter, exactly when and where did you find Angela’s bag?”

Easter idly stroked her hand through Horus’ hair and said, “Wednesday evening. It was late. After midnight. We were cutting through the park on our way home from a party a friend of mine was giving.”

Horus bobbed his head up and down and said, “Yes, he killed my father. We were bringing deviled eggs. I’m not sure I like to eat eggs, but I like rabbit.” Horus tilted his head, closed one of his eyes and stared down his hawk’s nose at Dean, “I can see you with my eye.” He tilted his head the other way and looked at Sam., “You’re like me. You’re hunting your mother’s killer.”

Dean stood up, nice and easy.

Horus was just staring at Sam, looking like a hawk stares at a field looking for a mouse. “Looking for your lover’s killer, which isn’t me. Like me. Fire and blood and, except…that’s not right.”

Dean moved around the potentially kneecapping coffee table.

Horus was leaning into a crouch, holding Sam’s gaze. “You’re in my story. You want revenge. And I’m the avenger.”

Dean thumbed open the holster on his Glock .40mm, but didn’t unholster it. Nice and easy. He said, “Who are you?”

Horus blinked slowly and rubbed his head against Easter’s leg. He said, “My mother raised me to hunt my father’s killer. Like your father did.” He stared at them and he didn’t look eighteen. Eighteen hundred maybe. “Then I did,” his brow wrinkled, “but now we’re here and we have barbeque.” Horus looked up at Easter, “Can I help them? I didn’t have a brother. Maybe. Sometimes.”

Sam stood up, finally, and moved to the right to spread out the range of attack.

Damn. It was getting hard to tell the civilians from the playmate of the week. The brownies felt like lead in Dean’s stomach. Who knew what was in the milk. Dean said. “What are you?”

Sam said, “Dean let’s not do anything stupid.”

Easter said, “Relax boys. We’re not what you’re hunting. We were coming home from a party and found that poor girl’s purse tossed aside in my park. A few blocks from where I live.” She smiled and she didn’t look nearly so much like a cute little hippy chick. She looked down at Horus. “Angela was born on my day and someone left that purse for me to find.”

Sam did that earnest puppy thing and said, “Horus, how do you know all that about us?”

Horus shrugged, “I have a magic eye.” He pointed to one of his eyes. “It’s the moon. Or the sun. I forget.”

Sam was relaxing. Probably thought he’d found a psychic friend for his network. Better be less of a psycho than the last one. Although, by all evidence, that ship had sailed. Sam said, “Did your father die in a fire? Did something kill your father?”

Horus paused and examined the far wall. Like he was looking a thousand miles away. “Yes. No.” He looked back at Sam. “It wasn’t fire. He was. One time he was dismembered and we had to find the pieces and put them in a box.”

Sam crouched down next to Horus. Good thing Dean was a good shot. He watched Easter out of the corner of his eye. She was rolling bits of brownie between her fingers into little balls. She winked at Dean and popped one in her mouth.

“That’s terrible.” Sam leaned forward. “Did you find the thing that killed your father?”

Horus nibbled on his lower lip. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“With your…magic eye, can you see what killed our mother? What killed Jess? Will we be able to kill it? Finish this thing?”

“I. I. It’s. There’s. I.” Horus looked up at Easter and kind of squeaked.

Easter bent down and kissed the top of Horus’ head. “There now. Don’t get all worked up.” She looked at Sam. “He can see some of what is. Not what will be. And before you ask, if he knew where that girl went, he’d have already said so.”

“I smelled Set,” said Horus, putting his arm around Easter’s legs and leaning in.

“There now, don’t you start that again.” She smiled at them. “You boys are doing alright.
Keep looking. You find things when you look for them.”

Dean rolled the tension out of his shoulders and looked at Sam, who shrugged.

Easter threaded her fingers through Horus’ curls. She said, “It would be a wonderful idea if you helped these boys. Just remember, they’re the heroes.”

“Um, we’re not taking either of you anywhere,” said Dean. Who were these people?

“Dean, maybe it would be a good idea to take him with us,” said Sam, walking back over to Dean. Blocking his shot.

“And in what universe would that be?” said Dean. “The one where we all have beards?”

“I used to have a beard,” said Horus, feeling his smooth chin. Yeah. Right. Kid didn’t look like he even shaved.

“Well, I never did,” said Easter and she tossed her hair and Dean was not going to be distracted by springtime hair or breasts or how incredibly thin that dress was. Not. Going. To happen.

Sam gave him that little brother look. The please let me come with you, have the last bite of candy, toy in the cereal box look. “Dean, it’s not like I can just turn on a vision. If we want to help these people, stop what’s going on…” Sammy ratcheted up the puppy eyes. Great. This guilt goes up to eleven. “If Horus has a way to see what’s going on, we should accept his help.”

Dean waved the hand not next to his gun in the air, “Fine. But when they eat my entrails, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

Horus let go of Easter and looked up at Dean wide-eyed, “I don’t eat entrails anymore. Easter thinks it’s messy. I like Easter.”

Easter said, “And I like you too sweetie.” She stood up and smiled. She said, “Now that that’s settled, I’ll make you boys some sandwiches to take with you.”

Dean perked up. Well, it wasn’t all bad.

This was hell.

Dean carefully inched forward, stopped, and turned the wheel of the Impala to the right, so he could begin reversing again. After circling for twenty minutes, he wasn’t about to give up on this parking space.

“I told you once we found parking, we should take public transit,” said Sam. “There’s a MUNI line that runs right by here.”

“Shut up Bitch. If you make me scratch the paint, I’ll leave you on the curb,” said Dean and began the careful jiggle forward.

Horus was perched on the backseat, swaying to the music. He said, “I like this song. What’s it called?”

Dean shook his head and wrenched the steering wheel to back up again. “It’s Metallica. Ride the Lightening. And you even live in the Bay Area.” Dean carefully inched back and straight. There.

Sam opened the car door. “Finally. I thought I was going to have to take up knitting and die of old age.”

“Yeah, bite me,” said Dean and jumped out of the car.

Horus flew out of the backseat, without even making the car creak, and said, “Do I get to be an officer and have a gun?”

“No!” said Dean and Sam.

“Okay,” said Horus. He began to walk down the street ahead of them.

Sam leaned over to Dean, all crinkle faced and canceled Christmas. “Do you think if I keep having visions, I’ll end up like that.” He pointed at Horus, who was holding his arms out like wings and spinning his way down the sidewalk.

Dean pushed down everything but smirk and big brother bravado. “What? End up two bricks short of a barrel and some hippy goddesses’ boy toy? You should be so lucky.”

“No, Dean, I’m serious. What if I keep seeing things and,” Sam’s voice went even softer. Now his expression had cancelled birthdays too and the tragic deaths of a thousand fuzzy kittens. “and, I…what if things never get normal.”

“Not gunna happen. Like the man said, he didn’t have brother.” Dean tipped back the brim of his stupid-ass hat and wiggled his eyebrows. “Course, I’m still waiting for you to get on board with my Vegas plan.”

Sam groaned and lost about a million pounds of pressure off his face. “We’re not going to Vegas.”

Horus turned to look at them and said, “You should stay at Luxor. They sell my statue there.”

Dean looked ahead and locked worry in a box. “See even Magic Eye here thinks that we should go to Vegas.” He looked at the address. “We’re here.”

Horus stared up at the building. “Samantha’s home.”

“I suppose you had a vision,” said Dean.

“How do you control it?” said Sam. He loomed over Horus, who was a really little guy. Practically a midget. Well, shorter than Dean. Sam continued, “When it happens to me it’s like a migraine download and everything’s just coming at me at once.”

Horus pointed up. “She’s standing in the window,” said Horus. A blond cheerleader type was staring down at them. Her eyes were red and puffy. She was clutching a tissue. She spun out of sight.

Dean shrugged. “That works.” He looked at Horus, “Uh, try not to say anything.”

Horus tilted his head and stared. “I know how to hunt. I’ll be the eyes to your stoop.”

“Great,” said Dean, “this is going to go just great.”

Samantha swung open her front door, “Oh, God, this about Angela isn’t it? Please don’t tell me that she’s dead? Officers, have you found her? Is she okay? Have the police found out anything else? I knew as soon as she didn’t call me something was wrong. She always calls me back. Always. The officer at the station said we had to wait 48 hours, and then they found her purse covered in blood in Golden Gate Park, and...Oh, God!” Samantha was looking at them like they had all the answers. Yeah. Right.

Sam took off the hat and slouched his height a bit. Good move. Sam blinked at Samantha. Heh, Sam. Samantha. She definitely looked like Sammy’s type. Like he’d do anything about it.

Sam said, “I’m afraid we don’t have anything new to add, but if we could ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, sure,” said Samantha. She ran her hand over her face. She turned and walked back into her apartment, “Whatever I can do.”

Dean edged in the door and scoped out the living room. Kleenex attack. He stood back and let Sam do his thing. Getting a chick’s phone number was one thing, but this was just so…it just wasn’t right. At every new school, Sam had always known what to do to blend. Dean wasn’t good at blending. Better to just let Sam ask the questions and they could get on with taking down whatever was doing this.

Horus was staring at Samantha, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy crying. Sam gave her a Kleenex and was standing just close enough and just far enough away. How did Sam know that stuff?

She said, “Like I said when I called the police station, I was talking with her on the phone on Wednesday. She was on her way back to work. She was going to stop some place to get some lunch. I teased her about her diet. Like that mattered.” She blew her nose, “Angela was always so worried about her weight and I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have…”

Sam smiled his little boy sympathy and said, “That’s okay Samantha. Do you know where she was when she made the call?”

Samantha took a deep breath. “Yes, um, she was uh, in that little park in front of Grace Cathedral. She liked to eat her lunch there. It’s a nice uphill walk from where she worked. She wanted…she wants to get the exercise.” She hiccupped a laugh, “She was complaining about how sunny it’s been.”

Horus looked out the window. “There has been lots of sun. No clouds at all for months,” murmured Horus.

Dean glanced at Horus. “So, uh, where does she work?” said Dean.

Samantha looked over at Dean. “Oh, yeah. Ummm, let me write down the address.” She looked up at Sam. “You’re going to find her aren’t you?”

“We’re going to do our best,” said Sam, as he put on that damned hat.

Samantha nodded and wrote down an address on a scrap of paper.

As they left the apartment, Dean whapped Horus on the back of his head. “What did I tell you about not saying anything? Oh, no, it’s been sunny lately.” Dean waved at the sky. “It’s California.” Leaned forward to walk up the sidewalk. There were stairs in the sidewalk. Why were there stairs in the sidewalk?

“No dude. This is kinda weird,” said Sam taking the stairs two at a time. Freak. Sam said, “The year I came out to Stanford, I didn’t see sunshine for months. You know what they say, ‘Worst winter I ever spent, was the summer I spent in San Francisco’ and all that.”

Dean glanced at Sam. Yeah, like Dean would know about that. Dean shook off the thought. “So, you think whatever is making people disappear is causing unseasonably warm and pleasant weather.” He tried to keep his breathing regular as he climbed up the hill back to the car. Sam wasn’t even breathing hard and Horus was running around them in circles. Backwards. Muttering about sand and blood and Dean didn’t want to know. That wasn’t going to happen to Sammy. It just wasn’t.

“No, I think the weather’s because of global warming,” said Sam and, Yes, he was started to breath hard. They slowed the pace a bit. Good.

Horus looked up at the sun. Didn’t blink. Just stared for a long moment and then looked at Dean. “We should talk to Set.”

Dean said, “Yeah it’ll be like old home week for Ancient Egypt. Maybe we can visit Anubis next.” Sam was giving him that you’ve never read a book in your life look. “What? Dude it’s not like I haven’t been doing this my whole life. I do know the names of your basic Death gods.”

“Name two,” said Sam.

Dean flipped Sam off two fingered English style. Who said he wasn’t cultured. He was practically a pearl.

Horus shook his head, “Anubis lives in Illinois. This isn’t his. This is Set’s. His shadows feed in the dark. In the winter.”

“Huh, and that’s why the killings have picked up,” said Sam, as they reached the car.

“What?” said Dean. He opened the trunk and started to rummage for some jeans. The costumes were taking over. Why was there a cravat in the trunk? Why did he know what a cravat was? Seriously, Sammy had to be stopped.

Dean grabbed some real clothes and got into the car to struggle through a quick change with the windows rolled for conversation.

Sam tossed his hat in the trunk and shucked off his jacket. “Think about it. If these are creatures that can’t go out in the light, they’d be naturally drawn to a city like San Francisco. Lots of rain and fog to let you out to feed. What do you think? Vampires? Trolls?”

“Who knows. Could be anything.” Dean creaked back out of the car and started sifting for the maps. Pushed aside a stack of text books. Seriously, why. “Makes sense though. Only feeding close to home when they can’t get out. Like now.” Horus was examining a crack in the sidewalk. Dean said, “Hey Magic Eye.”

Horus looked up. “That’s not one of my names.”

Dean shrugged. “You looked.”

“Horus,” said Sam, “can you see what’s taking these people with your um…magic eye?”

Horus rubbed his shoulder with his chin. “I smelled Set on the bag, but Easter said I was imagining things.” He looked at Sam. “Sometimes I imagine things. But if I wasn’t and they are, then they’re Setites.”

“Great. They’re Setites.” Dean found the maps. “And that tells us what exactly?”

Horus rubbed his arm and shrugged.

Sam changed into a considerably baggier pair of jeans in the car. “Hey man, don’t worry about it.” Sam pulled his laptop out from under the seat. “There’s a Starbucks every block. We’ll get coffee and Google it with their Wifi.”

“This may be a job for Wikipedia,” said Dean fanning himself with a battered San Francisco map. “What? I have used the internet.” He looked down the street. “So, Starbucks, or Starbucks or, huh, Starbucks?”

“That one’s closer,” said Sam.

Horus said, “I can pay for coffee. I have money in my pants. There’s a Rosicrucian museum in San Jose.”

Dean walked through the front door into a wave of coffee smells. There was an exit in the back, a side door, and the front door. Good. “Seriously, man. A to B,” Dean drew a line in the air, “learn to love it.”

Horus considered the imaginary line in the air and said, “Hawks gyre. We only go straight in a plummet. Even the most ancient bird could not equal my very first flight. I have brought the ways of eternity to the twilight of the morning. I am unique in my flight.” Horus paused and looked at the menu, “Mochaccino?”

“Yeah, we’ll both have some Eternal Mochaccino’s. Tall.” Dean shook his head and left Horus to babble at the Goth chick barista about her Eye of Horus earrings.

Sam had already claimed a tiny table and was clicking away.

Dean said, “He’s getting us some Mochacinnos. Whatever you do, don’t get linear with him. Don’t ask? Found anything?”

Dean walked behind Sam, “Heh, Wikipedia.” He punched Sam’s shoulder.

Sam read aloud from the screen, “The Followers of Set, Setites, are a fictional clan of vampires, also known as "The Snake Clan", from White Wolf games set in the World of Darkness.”

“Great. Vampire wanabes. Think Horus’ yanking our chain?” Dean sprawled into a chair with its back to a wall.

“These disappearances have been going on for the last hundred years.” Sam shrugged. “I suppose they could have based the game on some real stories.

Horus just sort of appeared next to Dean and put the coffee cups on the table. He said, “Or the stories changed to belief. We do that more than you think.” Horus eyes did this odd whirl thing and for a moment, the sun gleamed in his eye.

Dean looked at Sam, “So, does it say how to kill these suckers?”

Sam tapped a few more keys. “Your basics. Sunlight. Stake to the heart. Decapitation.”

Horus sipped his drink, “Most things die when you cut off their heads. Until someone brings them back.”

“Whatever. My turn.” Dean spread the San Francisco map across the table. It flopped off the sides. He pointed at a spot on the map. “We know Angela ate lunch here,” he looked at the address on Samantha’s note. Ran his finger down the paper. “It’s a straight shot down this street from Grace Cathedral to where she was going. We know she stopped to eat somewhere.” He clapped his hand on Horus’ shoulder, “We’ll just point our magic eye here at every restaurant and deli down this street. It can’t take that long.”

Sam laughed. “Do know how many restaurants there are in San Francisco?”

“Dude, magic eye.” Dean said and pointed to Horus, who was eyeing an invisible point in front of him.

Horus snapped a blue bottle out of the air. Studied the insect between his fingers and ate it.

Okay, enough was enough. Dean said, “Horus, if you want to keep that girlfriend of yours; never do that again.”

Horus nodded and swallowed.

“My feet hurt,” said Horus.

“That may be the part where we’ve been walking for hours because someone insisted we take public transit,” said Dean, glad Horus had said something. Crazy bug eating lucky bastard. Those sandwiches had been amazing. Who knew cold rabbit was that tasty.

“Do you see any parking around here?” said Sam, gesturing at the car lined street.

“My feet don’t normally hurts” said Horus. “It’s…my feet hurt.”

“Yeah, I think we got that. So, how about this place.” said Dean.

Horus looked at the poster crusted door. He said, “It could be.”

No really. Dean’s feet were killing him. “You’ve said that the last ten places. Funny kind of magic eye,” said Dean.

“I fought Set for epochs,” said Horus, opening the door. “He put out my eye and I castrated him.”

A dozen eyes turned to stare at them.

“TMI,” said Dean and turned to a creepy enough looking waitress hovering in the middle of the room. The food had better be good, because seriously, undead waitress walking.

Horus grabbed the waitress by her arm and slammed her against a wall. “You’re a not dead. I know. My father does dead. You’re a not dead.”

The fairly grayish waitress started to hiss at Horus and lunged at him. He pinned her to the wall by her throat with one hand. She didn’t seem to have a problem with not breathing. Definitely undead.

“Plan B.” Dean nodded to Sam and pulled out the ID in the rounded plastic with the tear at the bottom and held it up. “We’re food inspectors. We’re going to have to ask everyone to leave. There’s been a report of uh…botu…food poisoning.”

“Rats.” said Sam. “We’ve had reports of rat feces in the food.”

There was a clatter of forks.

Dean nodded. Good one. “Yeah. So, everyone, just get up and leave. Come on. Go.”

People began to shuffle out the front door. “I’ve eaten here for years.” “Disgusting, I can’t believe I brought my mother here.” “I wonder if I could sue?”

And the restaurant was empty.

Dean looked at Horus and the waitress. He had a flask of holy water cadged from the Cathedral, convenient that, leaking its way in his pocket, but it didn’t look like he’d need it. He pulled it out and a wooden stake.

Sam had pulled a machete from somewhere. Where exactly had he been hiding it? Hopefully not his pants. That would just be wrong. And unfair. Beanstalk. Although, maybe Dean could fit a machete in some cargo pants. But chicks don’t go for baggy pants. Scratch that.

Horus lifted the waitress higher and said, “Where are they?”

She scratched at Horus’ face, he didn’t move. He said, “I’ll look at you with my eye.”

And he did…something and there was a smell of scorched flesh and the waitress was screeching and smoking. “There’s a trap door in the toilet. It lets down to the basement.”

Horus let her go and she ran out the front door, steaming through the sun and into the shadows.

Dean looked at Sam, “So, I’m thinking, yeah, vampires.” He looked at Horus, “What did you do?”

Horus looked vaguely at the front window, “One of my eyes is the sun.”

Not a lot of thread in this conversation. Dean said, “The magic eye?”

“I remember now. It’s the other one.” Horus turned and slammed open the bathroom door. Empty. Good. Horus struck the floor with his fists and the linoleum gave way and he was gone.

Sammy looked down at the gapping back hole, looked at Dean, and said, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah.” And Dean jumped into the abyss. Felt his stomach fall away as he fell into the charnel house and a wave of stench. Lit oddly enough by Horus’ left eye. Then a snarling man thing came at him from the right and there was no time for wondering. He was in it.

The holy water went quick. “Hey bitches, drink me.” The smell of seared flesh and burnt hair. The slippery texture of blood and he didn’t even want to know what the pink things were on the walls.

And they kept coming.

And there was little big Sammy with a freaking machete going to town like nobody’s business.

And they kept coming. And Horus was just sort of standing there and shining. Right, they were the heroes. Great. Don’t help.

And they just kept coming. He slipped in the blood and struggled up with a cross and really bad quips and, aw the hell with it and just started shooting with the shotgun. No reason you had to take a head off with a blade. And just…

They stopped coming.

Dean leaned onto his knees and breathed. Tried not to breath. The air was dead. Death. Foul and nothing alive. And he needed a shower. For a week. And God that was incredible. Wait there was one more shadow. A man in a zoot suit. Zoot suit. Okay, seriously. What?

“Set!” said Horus.

“Harendotes,” said the Set. “I see you received my package. Did you like it?”

Horus glowered in a sort of ancient teenager sort of way, “You upset Easter.”

“Oh, horrors.” Set clapped his hands to his faintly aardvark face. “We must’nt upset Easter.”

Horus sighed, “I’ve already killed you.”

Set grabbed at the loose fit of his baggy pants. “And castrated me.”

Horus waved his hands, “You killed my father. Twice.”

“Which is why I sent you the purse.” Set swung the little chain attached to his belt. “You’re so…relentless. And really, it was all getting a bit too Blade Trinity for me. Another generation of rollplayers and they’d have been trying to take over the world. In my name. I blame White Wolf.” Set began to walk towards a dark archway.

“Hold it right there,” said Sam, holding his machete to Set’s throat.

Set looked at him and smiled. “I’m outside of your weight class boy. See me after your heroes journey.” In a blink, he flung Sammy against the wall with a wet smack, and was gone.

“Sammy!” Sammy wasn’t moving. Dean felt Sammy’s neck for a pulse. There was one. Okay. Pulled back eyelids.

“Hey, stop that,” said Sammy, twitching away from him.

Dean sat back on his heels. “I thought you were dead.”

Sam sat up. “I think that really was Set. Is it the concussion talking or did you see an aardvark head?”

Dean helped Sam to his feet. “Next time, let me take on the gods.”

Sam shook his head. “No problem.”

Dean looked at Horus, “Who are you?”

Horus shrugged, “I’m Horus. Harendotes. The Avenger. Except when I’m not. Things change. Even gods.”

“Yeah. Okay. Forget I asked.” Dean peered at the…solid wall where Set had disappeared. “Hey where’d the door go?”

Horus looked up the hole where they’d fallen and looked at Dean, “Can you fly?”


Dean sat gingerly in the driver’s seat and turned the keys in the ignition. He glanced at Sammy, who was holding ice to the back of his head. Dean said, “Long as we’re here, want to stick around a bit? Show me the hot spots. Look up a few friends? I know you said…well, we could stick around if you want.”

Sam looked at him like he was about to explode in a flood of Lifetime chick flick moments. “Dean did you dig this up so I could have a chance to come back for a visit?”

Dean leaned back into his seat. He’d done something to his back when staking that one vamp. “Didn’t have do much digging Sammy. If you don’t want to stick around that’s fine by me.”

Sam was getting all earnest at him. “All those disappearances were spread out over decades. Dad didn’t even mention it in his journal.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Dean pulled out onto the road, “Not like I’ve never done research.” He glanced at Sammy.

Sammy was smiling in that aw shucks way of his. He said, “Thanks, man. Maybe later.”

“Okay.” Dean pulled onto the freeway onramp. “We can always come back. Maybe touch bases with Easter.” He glanced at Sam. “Dude those brownies were amazing,” and gunned the engine onto the open road.


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