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The Sin Eating of Josh McCoy (G) Dean, OMC (Gen) - Not a rock, I'm just Ruth
All Me, no apologies
just_ruth
just_ruth
The Sin Eating of Josh McCoy (G) Dean, OMC (Gen)
Title: The Sin Eating of Josh McCoy
Author: Just Ruth
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, OMC
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: None, Pre-Pilot
Disclaimers: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripe and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Inspired by "Trill Coster's Burden" by Manly Wade Wellman
Written originally for earlofcardigans's "This is Your Life Dean Winchester" project
Summary: Only one person would stand by Josh Mc Coy that night – Dean Winchester
Soundtrack: Measure of a Man – Jack Ingram
Symbols: _italics_
Word count: 952
*****

Sit down! Sit down! Honey, go get Mr. Winchester a glass of sweet tea. No, no trouble at all.

Lessee - it was some time ago. My Daddy had died. Black Jack McCoy; there's some that called him a witch-man. I admit, he wasn't the best of men. He wanted power, he wanted to be feared, he wanted. . . I don't know what, but he was my Daddy, can you understand that? I hated him and I loved him and. . . he was my Daddy.

I hadn't spoken to him in nigh on seven years but as soon as I heard he was dead, I came straight away. Your Daddy and your brother were there. There's some say your Daddy shot him with a silver bullet and if he did, well, maybe he did the world a favor. The townsfolk had him laid out in a coffin in the gravedigger's tool shed and no one wanted to stay by him. See, our people hold that unless you stay by the dead and pray for them during the night, all their sins come up and carry them off to hell. I only know there wasn't one person prepared to be anywhere near his coffin until the morning. You always bury a corpse in the morning.

I said I would sit with my Daddy and your brother was the only one that was ready to back me up.

Your Daddy didn't like it much, but he said fine, Dean could handle this on his own. Then he gave Dean his gun. Dean's the one who poured out a salt circle and we stayed in the middle on a couple of old folding chairs from the church basement. I took my Grandma's old Bible in my hand and started praying for my Daddy.

There was a thickening in the dark around the coffin. Sort of a whispery scrabble, like lots of little mice feet and you could see tiny little red eyes all around us. Whatever they were, they weren't mice -- too many legs.

'Round and round they circled that line of salt. Scribble-scrabble went their little claws.

"Read aloud," said Dean, and I did. I read out the psalm "I to the hills will lift my eyes, from whence will come my aide." Those red eyes winked away as I finished up.

Somethin' laughed then, nothing that you wanted to be laughing with.

More red eyes appeared around the coffin - bigger eyes, like the eyes of cats or small dogs, only they weren't any such thing - some of 'em had wings and some of 'em had horns and some had the faces almost like little children. These went 'round and 'round the salt circle too - they were a-whispering; couldn't make out what they said, but they kept it up. I raised my voice and started reading from Matthew - the beatitudes. Dean started circling me with his gun out.

"Keep reading," he said. I finished the passage and those bigger things all slunk away.

There was only one pair of red eyes left and she came around from behind the coffin. Oh, Lordy but she was a beautiful woman - white, white skin, the kind of long, long legs you see in magazines and hair black as a thundercloud. If it wasn't for her hellfire-red eyes, she'd have been a sight to make your mouth water. As it was, mine went dry. She smiled with red, red lips and white, white teeth that looked far too sharp.

"You can have it," she said. "All of it, all the power and magic that your father had. All the money. All the women. Everything."

"Don't you listen to her," Dean warned me. "She's a demon."

"Aren't you rude?" she sneered. "I wasn't talking to _you_, Hunter-puppy! You just aren't smart enough to see what a wonderful future this young man could have. Why, he could be more powerful than your own brother."

"You leave my brother out of it!" Dean snarled.

She laughed then, "oh, no, oh, no, he'll be in the thick of it all and the likes of _you_ will never stop the storm that's coming." She cut back those smoking rubies eyes to me. "Now, back to _your_ future, Josh Mc Coy."

"I don't want it!" I said.

"Don't you? Don't you want to be more than a small-town loser? You could go further than your Daddy dreamed. Just step over the line and take my hand, and have whatever you want."

"No!" I threw open the Bible and it fell open at the first passage of John. I started reading "In the beginning was the Word. . ." She hissed like a snake.

"You'll regret this!" she called.

That's when Dean shot her. Silver bullet, he said, right between her hellfire eyes. She melted away to this nasty sulfur-smelling puddle on the floor.

We stayed awake all the rest of that night. He talked about you, how you were only a baby when your Momma died and how you had walked away from the family to find your own way. I wish I had me a brother who'd talk about me like that.

Come sunup, the folks came for the burying. Your Daddy looked like he'd been up all night. He made us both drink a shot glass of blessed water.

I don't have even a quarter of what my Daddy had, but I got me a thing that he never had; a good name to leave behind me.

And I wouldn't have been able to do it without your brother standing by me on that night.

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just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: April 10th, 2008 03:11 am (UTC) (Link)
That lore comes from Wellman and Appalachian folk lore. Wellman has his character of John play a guitar with silver strings and in a few of his stories silver holds power over diabolism (which he calls witchcraft - like Kripke) and breaks curses.
randomstasis From: randomstasis Date: April 10th, 2008 03:28 am (UTC) (Link)
ah! I don't know a whole lot about Appalachian folklore in specific, and hadn't remembered much in the way of actual demons in Wellman's stories, mostly monsters and ghosts, and, as you said, evil witches. Devil Anse Hatfield doesn't count!:D
In my memory it seemed that while silver worked for the ghosts and evil witches, that others needed holy words and/or music to banish them. (although they didn't like silver, even the sound of the silver strings, in one I remember it was actually Washington's spirit coming out of the silver quarter that defeated the spirit of an evil witch, and the story didn't say whether the silver alone would have done it)
Anyway, it's nice to know I'm not Wellman's only fan out there!
(been a long time since I read any- thanks for reminding me, I should re-read a couple of those stories.)
lolaann1 From: lolaann1 Date: January 8th, 2013 01:55 am (UTC) (Link)
Interesting. I am from Appalachia, so the folklore is always interesting to me. I've actually thought about writing the Winchesters into a lot of the local legends and folk tales I grew up hearing. Very IC for Dean to sit up with the guy and do an old fashioned wake.
just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: January 10th, 2013 01:04 pm (UTC) (Link)
Thank you! I admit most of what I know comes from reading Manly Wade Wellman and "Granny tales" books from the library.

I was re-reading the story and this popped into my head.

I'm glad you liked it.
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