Dean tugged on his tie and scowled. He couldn’t wait to get out of the damned suit. He felt silly in it, and the tie was freakin’ choking him. Sitting on the sofa and waiting for Mr. Allen to get his younger daughter… correction, now his only daughter, he was getting antsy. He should have had Sam question the man, then he’d be the one milling around the rest of the house. Sure it was full of mourners, but there was food, and that was a big plus in his book.

He could hear both whispers and laughter, but he knew that there were a lot of teary people out there. The family had just lost their ten year old, and it couldn’t suck any harder than that.

Looking at his watch, he got up and started to pace. Six normal people dead in the span of two weeks in this small town. Either they were having a run of bad luck, or something else was at work here. He was betting on the something else.

A sound at the door had he turning to see Mr. Allen trying to pry his eight year old daughter from behind his leg. He was pleading with her to talk to the ‘nice FBI man.’

Dean walked up to them and then crouched down to her level. Sam was so much better at this talking to kids thing, but no, he was inside eating everything off the buffet. “Hi sweetheart, I just need you to tell me what happened, okay?”

The young girl’s crystal blue eyes filled with tears. The tip of her nose started to redden, and Dean just knew she was gonna cry. “I know it was bad, but I just need… I need you to tell me. Please?”

She looked up at her dad, then shook her head. “I was sleeping, and then I woke up. Melissa, she was…” her lower lip started trembling. “She has scissor’s in her hand. Mom’s scissors, the one’s were not supposed to touch. And she…”

There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table, and Dean reached for it and gave it to her. He thought she only went through the motions and didn’t really take a sip. “Then what?”

“She was going to stab me. I asked her to stop, but she was asleep…” the child did start to cry then.

“Asleep?”

“Melissa used to sleep walk,” her father explained.

“Are you sure she was sleep walking?”

Cindy nodded. “She gets a funny look when she sleep walks.”

From his peripheral vision, Dean saw the effect that the words had on the child’s father. Cindy had spoken as if her sister were alive still. “Then?”

“I pushed her, and I screamed and screamed… and then she died.”

Mr. Allen took his crying child into his arms. “Have you heard enough? The doctor said it was a heartattack.”

Yeah, all of the death’s had been heart attacks. “Did she… when Melissa sleep walked other times, was she violent? Did she ever do anything like this before?”

Mr. Allen shook his head and started dabbing at his own eyes. “Never. She would just go to the family room and put the t.v. on, or fix herself something to eat. Once she went into the garden. That was when we put a more complicated lock on the door. She was a good kid.”

“I’m sure she was… people don’t know what they’re doing when they’re sleep walking,” Dean agreed. “But why the scissors…”

“I stole her Barbie.”

“What?” Both men asked, having heard the small whisper.

“I stole her Barbie and wouldn’t give it back. She said she was going to kill me, before we went to bed.” As Cindy dissolved into tears, Dean gave Mr. Allen a nod, “we’re done.”

A minute later, he strode out to the other room and snagged a jam filled pastry off the buffet table before joining Sam, who was looking at the family’s pictures on a shelf. Chewing around a big bite, he spoke. “They swear the kid was sleep walking. You get anything about the other deaths?” He nodded toward the door, “let’s get out of here.”

The house was full of mourners as Sam tried to mingle about with them, the tie he wore feeling a tad to tight as he listened in on a conversation between a group of women talking about the dearly departed girl as though she were still there, standing there actually.
He looked over at them, heading over brushing past another small group of women huddled together as he walked only to have one of them grab his shoulder as he passed, "Troy? Troy Hatch?" Sam frowned slightly and started to shake his head when another woman gasped and patted his free shoulder, the one the other woman didn't have a hold of, before addressing the other women, "This is Melissa's Troy."
Sam did frown then. Melissa's Troy? She was ten, I am definitely not ten.

Another of the women gasped and moved closer to him, before he knew it, he found himself in a big bear hug, as the woman cried on his shoulder.
Sam feeling more than awkward, slowly raised a hand to pat the woman's back, as he looked at the first woman, "Melissa's Troy?" he asked, eyebrow raised slightly.
The woman chuckled slightly, waved a hand at him, "Oh, Troy, we know she was way too young for you," she sighed softly, shook her head, "But, you know Melissa had a crush on you from the moment she laid eyes on you." her words then were followed by a sniffle, "Not that it matters now." the woman finished, before more tears fell from all the women in the group.

Sam cleared his throat nervously, glad when the woman who had flung herself at him in her grief had now finally stepped back, pulling away from him as she pulled a kleenex from her purse.
Sam looked from one of the women to the other, "What, uh, what happened was indeed tragic." he offered with a nod.
The woman who had flung herself at him huffed slightly, before turning away, muttering under her breath as she did, "Damn brat sister did it, you know? She always pushed Melissa. Pestering her..." The woman grumbled with a shake of her head.

Sam stood for a few moments, speaking with the ladies, only to learn that Cindy and Melissa were your average sisters, the woman who had made such claims just didn't like Cindy as well as her personality was much different from her sisters, to the point that some joked that the girls mother had been with two totally different men.
The girls completely different looks only backed that rumor up.

Sam sighed, as he slipped quickly and quietly away from that group. So much for the 'Desperate Housewives' circle.
He hoped he could find out a hell of a lot more else where. So far, this was turning out to be a great big dud... unless you wanted to know who was sleeping with who in this small town anyway.

A few moments later Sam stood at the back of the living room looking at a grouping of family pictures sitting out on display.
"They swear the kid was sleep walking. You get anything about the other deaths?" Sam glanced at his brother, noting the mouthful of food that his brother had, but choosing to ignore it. "Hmm?" Sam asked him, before looking back at the pictures with a sigh and a small shake of his head. Dean nodded toward the door, "let's get out of here."

“Take it you struck out?” Slapping his brother’s back, Dean headed for the front door. He didn’t miss the cluster of women who had their eyes locked onto to Sam as they walked out. “Picking up women at funeral, Sammy? For shame, heh, heh…” Grinning at his brother’s discomfort, he started to loosed the and pull off the damned tie.

By the time they reached the impala, he had it off and his white business shirt unbuttoned at the collar. If he weren’t worried about small town prying eyes, he’d have changed right there at the car.

Soon they were roaring down the high way. He brought Sam up to speed on what the Allens had told him. “And these other deaths, equally bizarre. I mean what the fuck Sam, a fifty year old buttoned down sort who went out whoring?” From what they’d found out, the woman had been on a street corner begging men to pay her for sex and when one she’d been clinging to pushed her, she fell dead at his feet. “A restaurant owner who tried to poison the food at a competing place? If you ask me, they were all sleep walking,” he snorted.

"Take it you struck out?" Slapping Sam on the back, Dean headed for the front door and Sam followed behind him.
Struck out? Well, that depended on what you wanted to know. If you wanted to know who was sleeping with who, get hugged by creepy ladies in their mid to late 40's and hear rumors about what a 'slut' the mother of the girl who died was, then no. Sam had hit the gold mine. However, if you wanted to actually find out something useful, helpful for this case, then, yeah. Sam stuck out, big time. Sam sighed and hug his head as he walked behind Dean, trying to make himself invisable as possible.
"Picking up women at funeral, Sammy? For shame, heh, heh."
Sam fowned hard at Dean. Could he be any more gross? He shook his head at his brother as they walked.
He was so not trying to pick up women. Not even a little bit. He shuddered slightly involuntarily at the thought.
Sam glanced over at his brother, eyebrow raised as Dean looked like he might just continue undressing right there where they stood.
That would so not go over well in this tiny little Mulberry town. Sam reached over and tugged open the passenger door of the Impala, sliding inside, then closed it behind himself as he waited for Dean to follow suit, hoping Dean wouldn't give the town their newest rumor to spread.
Luckily, Dean only slid behind the wheel, clothes intact, and soon they were speeding down the high way. Sam listened as Dean brought Sam up to speed on what the Allens had told him. "And these other deaths, equally bizarre. I mean what the fuck Sam, a fifty year old buttoned down sort who went out whoring?From what they'd found out, the woman had been on a street corner begging men to pay her for sex and when one she'd been clinging to pushed her, she fell dead at his feet. A restaurant owner who tried to poison the food at a competing place? If you ask me, they were all sleep walking," Dean snorted.
Sam listened intently to Dean's story, finding more credibility in his off handed joke than Dean probably thought possible.
"Actually, I have heard of something..." Sam frowned as he tried to remember what he had read. "There's a demon that causes nightmares." Sam sighed, "Of course, it doesn't tend to make a woman turn into a prostitute, I don't suppose..." he shrugged then, "Unless to her that's a nightmare, but that sounds more like lust to me...unless we're dealing with two demons working together maybe." Sam shook his head. "The drem demon is called an Alp, it's short for the Alptraum." Sam told him.
When they reached their motel, Sam went to work right away looking up dream causing demons.

In High German, the demon who causes bad dreams is most often called an Alp, a word that is etymologically related to elf.
A mare-induced bad dream is called a nightmare in English, martröð (mare-ride) in Anglo-Saxon and Icelandic, mareridt (mare-ride) in Danish, mareritt (mare-ride) in Norwegian, and Alpdruck (alp-pressure) or Alptraum (alp-dream) in German.

The Alp
Germany

Even though windows and doors may be tightly closed and locked to keep out the alps, they can still get in through the smallest holes, which they seek out with special pleasure. In the still of the night one can hear the sound that they make in the wall while getting in. If one gets up quickly and plugs up the hole, then they must stay in the room and cannot escape, even after the doors have been opened. A trud or an alp often travels a great distance to make his nighttime visits.
Some people have laid a hackle [an iron-toothed comb for the preparation of flax] on their bodies in order to keep alps away, but an alp often turns it over, pressing the points into the sleeper's body.
When an alp is pressing against you, you must not wake the one the Alp is making dream.
Alps make sleep hard on the person they afflict, it is not restful of peaceful, and the next morning you can see how exhausted they are.
If you say to an alp that is pressing upon you, "Trud, come tomorrow, and I will lend you something!" then he will immediately retreat and come the next day in the form of a human.
Or you can call out to him, "Come tomorrow and drink with me," then the person who sent him will have to come.
There are others who can send an alp to those they hate or are angry with merely with their thoughts. He looks like a small white butterfly, and sits on the breast of a sleeping person.

Sam frowned at the computer screen as he leaned back in the chair with a sigh, then glanced at his brother, shaking his head. "Man, I dunno, dude, this is just weird...even for us."

Dean was sitting across from Sam, with his feet on the table as he listened. “An Alp? You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Sounds like an imp.” He rolled the stuff Sam read off around in his head, trying to see if any of it meshed. “I dunno, Sammy… these people aren’t staying in their beds. If they are nightmares, then they’re acting them out.” He cocked his head to the side, “and that’s assuming they’re sleep walking. I mean what’s the difference between sleep walking under the influence of something and possession?”

Rubbing his eyes, Dean recited some of the other facts they knew. “We have another guy that tried to break into the wall safe of his closest friend of forty years. Minute the lights came on and he knew he was caught, he died. Then there’s the guy who tried to rape a stripper, but what the fuck… minute she pushed him he died.” It really made no sense. Sam was right, this was weird even for them.

“Okay hotshot, why don’t you look for a cross between this dreams thing and possession? Do your little…” he put his thumb and forefingers together, “butterfly-sized imp friends, or any other thing, cause sleep walking and cardiac arrests?”

Sam listened to his brother and sighed, then glared. "They are not my little friends. Have you ever seen an Alp? The picture here, looks like a miniature demon."
Sam turned his attention back to his computer and shrugged, "And it said that you must not wake a person who is having a nightmare caused by an Alp." he glanced up at Dean, "thing is, I dunno why." Sam looked back at the computer screen and typed on the keyboard.

"Says here that enough of an adrenaline flow, or fear and shock from a nightmare caused by these little creatures, can cause a heart attack," Sam frowned, "Also claims that sometimes what is happening, what the person may be doing when they wake, the shock of that alone can cause the heart to stop and throw them into respiratory failure." he looked up at Dean, "So, I guess there's your answer to that." Sam frowned and looked back at his computer, "So, they can make you sleep walk, I guess." he looked back at Dean, If these people were indeed sleepwalking and not possessed." Sam shrugged as he crossed his arms over his chest, "That's the real question, is it this Alp thing or a demon pretending to be and Alp? I mean, lust would do most of those things too, if you think about it. Not cause a nightmare, but what they found themselves doing." Sam sighed and shook his head, looking back at the computer.

"I dunno man, this is something new for us if that's what it is. An Alp." Sam frowned, "I guess we could do an exorcism, that should cover both, just in case..." he shrugged, "Maybe."

“So they just drop dead… does sound like what we’re dealing with here,” he agreed with a curt nod. Sure there were discrepancies, but there always were. “Every one of these people who died had the victim fighting back or something. Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Fighting back against someone you love and killing them just like that?” He was thinking about Cindy, what she would have to live with for the rest of her life even if she didn’t really know she’d caused Melissa’s death.

Dean dropped his feet to the ground and crossed the room. He started digging into his duffel bag. “I think I’ve seen something on drawing demons to the site of an exorcism, if they’re the sort that don’t stick around long in a body.” As his hand closed around his father’s thick journal, he went silent. He was fighting a lump the size of Kansas in his throat, and the internal demons his father had given him when he’d traded his life and soul.

Sitting down on the bed, and looking down, he tried to cover his reaction from Sam, hoping little brother was too busy with that computer of his. Right. All of the anger and turmoil boiling his insides was good. He just needed to focus it on something else, like getting rid of these murderous sons of bitches. He thumbed through the thick book, sure there was something on the ritual.

Sam nodded to his brother, glancing at him as he walked back to the bed, their Dad's journal in his hand.
"Drawing it there is going to be our best bet, so, I hope you find something. No one else needs to die because of these things." Sam mumbled with a sigh and he continued to type on his keyboard, looking for anything that might be useful.

Sam glanced over at Dean, frowned slightly as he watched his brother. He could see the turmoil on Dean's face even though he was obviously trying to hide it.
Sam sighed as he looked back at the computer screen.
"Best place to do this is probably going to be outside. Seeings as they seem to be related to elves." Sam shook his head, "I can't believe I just said something was related to an elf." he muttered, running a hand through his hair before looking back at his brother.
"Find anything?"

Dean slowed down and ran his finger down the page. Clearing his throat, he answered. “I think so.” He started reading his father’s scrawl out to Sam. “And bingo... it says outdoor ritual. I say let’s give it a try, what could go wrong? Worst comes to worst we attract some superpowered demons who want to tear our hearts out, and those are the nice ones.”

Back in his element now, he got up. “Come on, we got some shopping to do.”

*

A couple hours later, they’d both gotten everything on their list and were almost done setting up. They’d found a nice clearing in the woods at the mouth of town. The moon was full, and between the light it provided and the Impala’s front lights, they had enough to work by.

Using ropes and nailing them into the ground, they drew the ritual circle and symbols. “Black board was a good idea,” he told Sam, wiping the chalk off his hand. Some of the symbols were freaking complicated and they’d never have managed to do them in rope..

He turned to watch Sam light the black candles. It kinda gave him the chills, fact that they were black. But they were going to be snuffed out before the end of the ritual and symbolize the vanquishing of the demons, and he was more than good with that.

“You know, if you liked one of those women who were circling like buzzards, we can stay a couple more days after this.” He hid a grin and enjoyed the look of distaste crossing his brother’s face. “Hey, not my fault you’re a magnate for old chicks. Besides, one of them wasn’t half bady.”

Then the joking was over, and they stood next to each other in the circle. They alternated speaking the words, and chanted together when necessary. Sam took care of most of it, while Dean sliced his forearm and contributed some sacrificial blood, dripping it over the markings on the board.

Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica

Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te,
cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare

The flames on the candles started to spit and jump. The air around them became cold and oppressive. “Keep going Sammy.”

It wasn’t as if his brother had to be told, but it was habit. Dean glanced around for signs of trouble, but other than the feeling they weren’t alone, all seemed clear.

Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis,
Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomini

Seeing Sam’s nod, he dropped to his knees and started to snuff the candles. “Sonovabitch,” he licked his burned fingers, and tried again. “It’s like they’re fighting back through the flame.” He took a lot of pleasure out of beating the damn thing and moving on to the next one.

Sam listened as Dean read aloud from their Dad's journal, huffing and rolling his eyes at Dean's joke about the demons wanting to tear their their hearts out.
Once they had a plan, they left the motel room to get the supplies they needed and begin the ritual.

**
A couple hours later, they were at a prime location to do the ritual, the full moon and light from the Impala's headlights enough to work by.
After the symbols were drawn, either with rope or chalk, Sam began to light the black candles around the circle. Those would be snuffed out later, representing the snuffing out of the demon-like Alps and their hold here on people and dreams.
Seemed easy enough, as long as everything went alright, anyway.

“You know, if you liked one of those women who were circling like buzzards, we can stay a couple more days after this.” Sam looked at his brother and made a face, the look of distaste on his face evident. What the hell was Dean thinking!? He watched as his brother hid a grin, adding, “Hey, not my fault you’re a magnate for old chicks. Besides, one of them wasn’t half bad.” Sam huffed and shook his head at his brother, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

He moved, stepping over next to Dean so that they stood next to each other in the circle. They alternated speaking the words, and chanted together when necessary. Sam paused, waiting as Dean sliced his forearm and contributed some sacrificial blood, dripping it over the markings on the board, then continued on.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica"

"Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te,
cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare"

The flames on the candles started to spit and jump. The air around them became cold and oppressive. “Keep going Sammy.” Dean called out to him and Sam looked from the flames to his brother, gave a nod before returning his attention to the flames.

"Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis,
Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomini"

Once Sam had finished the words, he looked back over at Dean and nodded before kneeling to snuff out the candles before him as Dean dropped to his knees and began to do the same. “Sonovabitch,” Sam heard Dean say, causing him to look over his shoulder at his brother. “It’s like they’re fighting back through the flame.”
Sam looked back at the candle before him and notice the same thing. The candle seemed to have not went out after all.
Licking the fingertips of his thumb and forefinger, Sam tried again. Finally, Sam pulled up, stomping on the candle to make the flame go out.
"This isn't good Dean." Sam said shaking his head, "I don't think it's suppose to be this hard to snuff out these candles."
He looked over at his brother as Dean beat the hell out of one of the candles, putting out the flame.
Finally, working together they seemed to have gotten them all out. Now to bury the candles and then they would be done.
Gathering their supplies, Sam and Dean dumped them in the trunk and got into the car, pulling away from the clearing.
**
The ground behind them shook slightly with unseen power, dirt rose and poured down like a fountain, revealing a pure black candle, it's flame burning brightly in the dark of the night.