Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1.

Scarecrow - Part 3.

'It's not everyday I get a research question on pagan idolatry,' the professor was saying.

'Yeah, well, call it a hobby,' Dean brushed it off, climbing down the stairs behind the old professor who had white hair and a shriveled face.

'But you said you were interested in local lore?'

'Mm-hmm.'

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

'What if it was imported?' Dean tried another angle, as they started walking down through another corridor, 'You know like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled in by immigrants?'

'Yeah.'

'Like that town near here, Burkitsville, where are their ancestors from?'

'Uh, Northern Europe, I think. Scandinavia.'

'What can you tell me about those pagan gods?'

'Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses,' said the older person.

'I'm actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard.'

The professor took Dean into what looked like his office. He brought out a leather hardback book, and put it on his desk. 'A woods god.'

'Mm-hmm.'

'Well, let's see,' the man said, putting on his specs, as he started slipping over pages. Not three pages were turned, when Dean pointed to the picture on the right side, 'Wait, wait, wait, wait, what's that one?'

'Oh, that's not a woods god, per se.'

'The Va-Vanir?' Dean asked, before he started reading the text on the left side, '"The Vanir were Norse Gods of protection and prosperity keeping the local settlements safe from harm. The villagers built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice, one male and one female."'

He glanced at the professor. 'Kinda looks like a scarecrow, huh?'

'Well, I suppose.'

'This particular Vanir,' Dean said, pointing that he read on the page, 'its energy sprung from a sacred tree?'

'Well, pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.' The professor had a nervous look on his face, and his behavior had turned curt and rigid – as if he was hiding something.

But Dean was too oblivious to notice it. He didn't show it, but he was actually wondering what was happening to you and Sam. Where was his Dad? What happened at Bobby's that you had to get so drunk?

'So, what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the God?'

The older man scoffed, 'Son, these are just legends we are discussing here.'

'Oh, of course,' Dean retorted, shaking his head a little. 'Yeah, you're right.' He raised his hand, 'Listen, thank you very much.'

He returned the handshake, 'Glad I could help.'

Dean nodded, 'All right.' He opened the door and before he could even see what was on the other side, the butt of a gun was slammed into his face. The green-eyed man was knocked out on impact.

Dean was installed into an underground barn with boarded up windows and an overhead wooden door. It seemed like a cross between a storm cellar and a storeroom.

Dean was working on a way to get himself out of this pickle when the overhead door opened. A sobbing Emily was being pushed ahead by her own uncle.

'Aunt Stacey, Uncle Harley, please,' she cried out. But no one listened to her cries as they shoved her inside.