Title: Rain, Rain Go Away
Author: Aeon Cole
Rating: FRT (for language)
Word Count: 1025
Summary: What happens when Sam and Dean cross paths with a weather god?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s Note: Written for the Sylum Group April Challenge.
“So, you really think that’s what this is?” Dean called from the bathroom. He finished drying himself off and threw on a pair of jeans.
“Well, unless you have a better idea,” Sam replied.
Dean stuck his head out of the bathroom as he pulled his t-shirt on. “A weather daemon?”
Sam wrinkled his brow. “More like a weather god really.” He opened the journal that sat on the bed next to him. “There are several references in dad’s journal…”
“Are you sure? I mean, we are in
Sam just rolled his eyes and continued. “There are references in dad’s journal to spirits who can control the weather. The Aztec legends of Tlaloc and Coatlicue, numerous stories from the Salish people.” He looked over at his brother. “The Salish are native to this area Dean.”
Dean sighed. “I don’t know. In all the years I’ve been hunting, I’ve never come across a spirit who could control the weather like you’re describing. Spirit winds and cold spots yes, but full on storms? I mean, if it’s true, how do we fight it? If it can make it rain then it can melt a salt circle or blow a hole in it. And how is it controlled? Gods are usually summoned or controlled somehow.”
Sam stared at him for a moment. He knew Dean wasn’t going to like his answer but it was right there in black and white in the journal. He closed his eyes and said, “Drum circle and there’s a chant here.”
Dean stared back at him then burst out laughing. “Drum circle? Hippies out in the woods beating on bongos drum circle? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He skipped over to the night table and began beating his hands rhythmically on it and fake chanting.
“Dean,” Sam yelled at him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This thing is already loose.”
Dean continued his drumming until a sudden clap of thunder startled him and he stopped mid beat and looked around. He and Sam exchanged a glance as another clap sounded. Sam jumped up and looked out the window. He looked back at Dean.
“The sun is shining. There’s not a cloud in the sky,” he said.
The thunder sounded again and a flash of light filled the room. Slowly they both looked up. The hotel room’s ceiling was gone and replaced with a thick dark storm cloud. It took a second for what was about to happen to register but when it did, Sam bolted to the bed, closed his laptop and threw it into the satchel. He scooped up the journal and did the same with it just as the cloud opened up and rain poured down on them, inside the hotel room. They were soaked to the bone in seconds.
Dean looked over at Sam. “It’s raining,” he yelled over the thundering sound of the downpour.
“No shit Sherlock,” Sam replied as he ran for the door.
He pulled at the door handle but it wouldn’t open. Dean stood there dumbstruck for a few moments watching Sam pull at the door. A bolt of lightning streaked from the ceiling and landed right next to Dean.
“Son of a…” he yelped as he jumped out of the way.
He ran to the door and pushed Sam out of the way. He started kicking the door until it finally sprung open. They ran outside, dripping wet, into the warm sun. They both looked around.
“What the fuck just happened?” Dean asked.
“Still don’t believe me about the rain god thing?” Sam replied.
Dean glared at him. “You say I told you so and I swear I’m gonna throw you back in there and lock the door.” Sam held his hands up in a surrender gesture. “So what do we do now?”
Sam went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He tossed the satchel in then pulled out the journal as another clap of thunder sounded. He looked up and saw that the sky was clouding up, very quickly. He flipped a few pages in the book.
“I have an idea,” he said and closed the trunk. He gestured to the trunk lid. “Start drumming again,” he said to his brother.
Dean stared at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
Sam glared at him as the sky opened up again. “Like I said before, if you’ve got a better idea…”
“Fucking hippy drum circle crap,” Dean muttered as he made his way over to the car.
He started the rhythmic beating on the trunk just as he’d done n the hotel room. Sam read from the journal, repeating the chant in the ancient Salish language. The clouds darkened and swirled as he spoke. Hail began to fall. They continued the ritual as the clouds formed themselves into a black swirling vortex. Sam’s chanting reached a peak and the black cloud suddenly dipped and swirled around him before shooting skyward and disappearing into the distance. The sky cleared and the birds began singing. Dean’s hands froze in mid beat and he looked over at Sam. They both looked around.
“Is it gone?” Dean asked.
Sam looked around again. “I think so. That was a banishing chant.” He locked eyes with Dean and chuckled. “You look like a drowned rat.” Dean shook his head like a dog splashing more water all over Sam. “Hey!” Sam yelled at him and leaned down and shook his head at Dean.
Dean pushed him backwards. “Bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam replied.
They stood there in silence for a moment then slowly turned their attention to the hotel room. They walked over to the doorway and looked inside. The whole room was soaked. They stepped inside and the carpet squished under their feet. They exchanged a glance.
“We should get out of here before anyone sees this,” Dean said.
Sam concurred and they grabbed their bags and headed for the car.