5214/The Librarian: Old World Treasures

The Librarian: Old World Treasures
Date of Scene:	21 August 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Sam and May hunt down the ritual altarcloth the Librarian is looking for. Unfortunately, in the process, they release an undead priest with designs of his own.
Cast of Characters:	Castiel, Sam Winchester, Melinda May
Tinyplot:	The Librarian

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Castiel has posed:
Castiel's leads on the altarcloth needed for the rituals contained within the book _A History of Angels_ had led Sam and Agent May on a hunt through the registrys of several churches, narrowing it down, finally, to two: a small church Gotham, and one in Sunnydale - Church of the Martyr. Of the two, the one in Sunnydale looked the most promising, the graveyard attached to it going back nearly 200 years, and that untouched. Registers confirmed that while the churches' graveyard was no longer being added to, that all of the ministers for the church, up to 1951 had been buried on site.

Of course the pair hit there just after sundown (darn traffic!) and the night is cloudy and chill. Spits of rain abound. The moon, half-hidden behind a cloud, barely a sliver in the sky. And there are no lights in the graveyard, though that may be a plus, all things considered.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Dean was back at home and grumpy so Sam left him and Baby behind and rode with May. It'd been a while since he touched base with the agent and this seemed like a good a time as any to do so.

"So, how have things been at SHIELD?" he asks as they arrive at the church. He steps out of their ride and goes around back for his gear, a black duffle bag of hunter essentials, just in case.

"As for us, we've just got back into town, and Cas moved in, which has been... interesting."

Melinda May has posed:
Agent May was only mostly surprised when she was called and asked to accompany this little trek, but she not once considered refusing. The drive was uneventful, and Sam's question just as she kills the car's engine was one she'd been expecting much earlier.

"The same for the most part." She also gets out of the car but doesn't have a duffel of supplies to get. "Ferrying mission teams around, saving their hides when they do something stupid, you know. The usual."

She leads the way toward the old church and adds seemingly idly, "We'll have to catch up over dinner some time." It's May code for the boys had better tell her where they've been and what they've done before she corners Castiel and makes him spill all the dirt. Speaking of...

"I can see that."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel wasn't on this little mission. Yet. Knowing the angel he could show up at the most inopportune time, or post-event wondering what the fuss was about. Or quite possibly be at home when Sam arrives later, grumbling over being disturbed.. Sam and the angel still hadn't found the sweet spot in their relationship.

But for now, though, Sam and May had arrived at the church, only to find it locked up, and locked up but good. Old records - the ones that had been filed with the county - stated that there were 10 graves on site, but old records were often notoriously lacking, and the church was older than the city's need to know all things. the likelihood was that the records were correct, but one never knew.

The graveyard is, as expected, to the back of the small church, and surrounded on all sides by trees - the trees at the back being thickest, backing into a small ravine that hadn't been filled or appropriated for development yet.

In the furthest back left corner there looks to be a shed. It's hard to tell in this light.

The spitting continues to be intermittant.

There is a lack of ambient noise.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Sounds like fun," Sam remarks idly as they walk into the small graveyard.

The sudden lack of noise gives him pause. He reaches down to slowly unzip his bag and dig around for his EMF meter.

"And yeah, we can do dinner. Probably have to order in, not much around the place but pizza and beer this week." Clearly Dean had shopping duty.

He pulls the EMF meter from his bag and turns it on, sweeping for the electromagnetic fields left by spirits and other things that go bump in the night.

"Got a time in mind?" he asks carrying on acting casual even as his shoulders tense.

Melinda May has posed:
May goes on the alert at the lack of normal late evening noises as well, though she doesn't reach into her jacket yet and instead gives Sam a chance to check the area with what looks like a mangled old Walkman. She's not about to question.

"I'll have to check my schedule, but I'd guess just about any evening after five pm would work for me. And I can cook if you want."

She's looking around while Sam does his checks, making sure there's nothing visible to the human eye trying to sneak up on them.

Castiel has posed:
The ground in the graveyard is.. for lack of a better word, spongey. It's covered in mosses and lichens, with only smatterings of grass here and there, like the soil is the wrong type to be friendly to grass. Clayish perhaps? Too much peat? Something. There aren't even the usual weeds one might expect, though there are plenty of dead leaves drifting and swirling about, curling up against grave markers like petulant lovers, only to slink away with the slightest bit of breeze.

And for all that, noice is strangely absent. Like it's coming from a distance, or down a long tunnel. Only without the echoes.

Sam's sweep of the area shows activity, but it's a weird pattern. Instead of large swaths, the EMT markers look like a small checkerboard, each of the gravestones having a small square of brightly activated area in front of it, with the edges of each square blurring away.

Interestingly, none of the markers have names. Just dates. And the records are lacking names as well - there being only reference numbers. Presumably there is another file that might match a number with a name, but it is missing. The church records were also lacking, though it had been possible to track down the names of several of the ministers through media sources, old microfiche records of newpapers from the fifties and sixties had mentioned several church activities.

Oddly, or perhaps not oddly, depending on your viewpoint, the 'shed' in the back corner is seemingly devoid of any particular EMT traces.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam frowns at the meter then bangs it with the heel of his hand. When the readings stay patchy, he frowns at the screen, saying, "This is really weird, there's readings in front of all the headstones."

He dails in the sensitivity until it should just be picking up what's right in front of him and then crouches on the soft mossy ground to inspect one of the headstones. "Weird. No names. You'd think with it being a church graveyard they'd have records of who was being burried."

That curiosity is put aside for a moment as he studies the readings while leaning close to the headstone.

Melinda May has posed:
May stays standing near Sam's side, very much on the alert as he leans close to the headstone. "They're not old enough to have been worn smooth by the weather, I take it?" Very few things built since non-Viking Europeans arrived on this continent are, really.

She does now reach to pull what looks like a ninja turtle's sai. Just the one, though.

Castiel has posed:
With the sensitivity adjusted, and Sam kneeling down, the EMT register isn't *much* different.. but it is slightly so. The boxy shape of the energy has more of a glowy circular shape, that is radiating out. It still seems to be hitting a squared off edge that has a blurry halo about it.

The ground over the registering area is softer, even, than the surrounding earth. It looks like small creatures have been scrabbling at the dirt, perhaps.

Both would notice that the gravestone is marked with a rune.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Shaking his head Sam says, "I don't think anything here's that old," though he does lower the meter to run his fingers along the stone. Feeling his way along the grooves, getting a sense of their shapes. "These though..." he sets down the meter and digs into his bag for a notebook, he flips through the pages of scribbled sigils and notes until he lands on what he's looking for.

"Here," he says, trying to use his body to sheild the book from the spitting rain. "These are norse protection runes, the Vikings used to keep their dead, well, dead." He looks up from the book and studies the stones again. "This is different though." He runs his fingers over a cluster of runes. "I think these might be a binding spell of some kind. Keeping whatever it is here, or close by."

He nods when the Sai comes out. "Good idea," he says, reaching into his bag for an iron crowbar. A hunter's best friend when you're dealing with spirts. "Anyhow, none of this really says, 'altar cloth is here' but let's check out that shed, if nothing else, there might be a shovel in there, and well, we're going to need it if we have to check anywhere else."

Melinda May has posed:
Dead things. Great. "Wait, you didn't bring a shovel, Sam? I almost feel like I should check you for a fever." With her typical deadpan delivery, that attempt at a joke might not have come across as well as it should have. She turns the sai in her hand, revealing that it's been forged from a dark metal (likely iron), but has silvery pale stripes inlaid in it.

"This looks more like someone was hedging their bets and keeping these people here no matter what." And it's that last part that concerns her.

Castiel has posed:
The shed.. looks like a shed. Though, compared to much of the graveyard and the church itself, it looks to be in fairly decent repair. Other than the chain and padlock on the door to it. The chain is thick - each link about a finger's width - and rusted. The padlock, much the same.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Used to riding in Baby," Sam explains with a small smile. "What you SHIELD agents don't have some sort of watch that turns into one?" he snarks good naturedly as he rises and dusts off his pants.

"Yeah, paranoid, my friend Bobby would love it," he says. "Anyhow, let's just hope the thing we want is in the shed. With this ground, it's going to be some messy digging to get down there," he says a nod given for the graves.

Also back breaking work. He was so going to make Dean pay for missing this trip.

Reaching the shed, he gives it a once over then spotting the lock looks to May. "You want to or should I?"

Castiel has posed:
The chain and padlock both look like cutters will do the trick. Or, you know, the time honoured tradition of twisting another piece of metal through them until they snap. It's really up to what May has on hand.

Melinda May has posed:
May follows Sam over to the shed and lokos at the rusty chain and padlock. She could likely pick it open, but does she feel like it? Not really.

Her response to Sam's question about the lock is to simply step forward, pull one of her titanium taser batons with her free hand and use that to break the lock. "I hope you weren't expecting me to pick that lock."

She steps back again to let the tall young man do the honors of opening the shed. This is technically his rodeo, after all.

Castiel has posed:
The chain resists. It seems underneath that rust, it's a pretty hefty little chain. But in the end it isn't proof against the titanium twist of May's baton levering through the links.

Oddly, the sound of the chain breaking is muffled. Like a glass being broken in a handkerchief - only metal. The faintest of chinks. And when it falls away to the ground, the links land upon themselves with no sound at all, lying there like a crumpled snake.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Sort of," Sam admits with a sheepish grin. "Or maybe some sort of spy gizmo."

Clearly despite his pasat association with SHIELD he still has a very TV and movie idea of espionage.

The muffled clink of the chain, has Sam's brow furrowing in concern. "Yeah, that's not right."

As an experiment, he knocks his crowbar against the shed to see if that sound is muffled too.

For now the door is staying closed.

Castiel has posed:
As with the chain, the sound of the crowbar against the wooden door is muffled. Everything seems from a distance. That whole tunnel effecta again, only without the echo. On the plus side, it sounds exactly like a knock against a wooden door. The thunk of it, though, doesn't travel anywhere and remains localized.

Melinda May has posed:
May looks at the chain then at the shed itself. "Sorry, I left my USB stick laser cutter at home. Didn't think I'd need it." She's frowning slightly even as she quips, because the odd, muffled way everything sounds is REALLY not right to her. It's almost as bad as having to deal with heavy snowfall surroundings.

She looks up at Sam for a moment before rechecking their surroundings, as if silently asking whether or not he's run into this kind of oddness before.

She'll be honestly surprised if he hasn't.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam looks as puzzled as May does by the muffled sounds.

He rifles through his internal index of monster facts and comes up dry. A rarity for him.

"This is a first," he says, his tone a little tight, nervous. First time encounters were tricky, it means he didn't have a laundry list of weaknesses to draw on.

He nods to the door. "I open it? You cover?" he asks May.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Sam and sidesteps just a little so she can properly cover Sam while he opens the door. "When you're ready."

She gives their surroundings one last look then focuses on the shed directly. This only marginally less stressful than infiltrating a known terrorist hideout.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Once May is in place. Sam does the honors, yanking open the door, the door, hoisiting his crowbar and stepping inside.

Inside he's quick to do two things, scan the inside of the shed and move out of the doorway so May can follow him in.

Castiel has posed:
The door opens to the smell of musty dirt. Dry, dusty air that smells and feels like it hasn't seen the light of day for over 50 years, and given the lack of windows to the shed, who knows, it may well have been fifty years.

Other than the fact that the chain and padlock didn't seem that old.

Inside, should a light be shone, there are the usual acoutraments of all maintenance sheds. Everything is terribly neat, though. All in their places. Everything neatly against a wall, or upon a hook or shelf against walls.

The floor is quite dirty, and seems to be wooden planking.

Yes, there are shovels. Several as a matter of fact.

Melinda May has posed:
May follows Sam into the shed in near-textbook procedure, though she quickly enough swaps out the baton for a small flashlight. "Well. This is anticlimactic. But, at least now we have shovels." She does make a mental note of the generally musty feel of the shed and the floor, considering how neat and tidy everything else is.

A clue? Perhaps.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Just a bit," Sam says with a glance around with what May's flashlight reveals.

"This place feel right to you?" he asks after a few moments of checking things out. He stomps down with his foot on the old wooden floor frowning at it.

He bends down and pulls the EMF meter from the bag, to give the floor a bit of a sweep to check if there's something to his hunch.

Castiel has posed:
The EMF meter shows nothing. Like outside, any readings seem to stop in the vicinity of the shed. The floor is really nondescript other than the dirt covering the planking. It is otherwise terribly neat in here. And while the air is dusty and musty smelling there is a lack of anything like spiderwebs or other buggy remains. How odd.

Melinda May has posed:
"No, it doesn't. Nothing's felt right since we set foot on these church grounds." She looks around, then plucks one shovel from its resting place and offers it to Sam. "So the faster we get this handled the better."

Stepping back out of the shed, she checks the area once again to make sure there's STILL no one else around.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Right, one sec," Sam says giving the place one last once over, before he grabs the shovels and heads outside with May.

He offers a shovel. "Dealer's choice," he says with a smile and a nod to the grave stones.

He rolls his neck and works his shoulders in anticipation of some digging.

Castiel has posed:
Where it had been spitting before, it seems to have stopped. As does the breeze that was blowing the errant leaves about. Of course, it's a bit deceptive, standing here in the graveyard as they are. Were either to step back out onto the street, it's raining now - not a heavy rain. Just a light end of summer pattering of drops. Enough to make the ground smell like wet earth and grasses, but nothing to complain about.

However, they aren't in the street. They're in the graveyard.

And while they've been in the shed, things outside have shifted some. Several of the graves look bubbled up, as though those creatures who had been clawing at them earlier had returned and begun digging again.

No.. that's not right either. More like something has been digging up. And should either care to remember, they'd see that it's only where the EMT meter had been showing activity.

Once the pair have left the shed fully, all hell breaks loose - heads and arms come clawing out of the graves, some quickly, some more slowly, until there's a graveyard fully of shambling, mummified looking creatures, their eyes an undead fury of red. And they're pissed.

Melinda May has posed:
May takes the offered shovel even though she's less than thrilled with the thought of having to dig. Of course, she doesn't get a chance to choose. The inhabitants of the graveyard apparently had other ideas.

"Wonderful." She drops the shovel and pulls her matched pair of butterfly swords, holding them together in one hand. She's going to see if decapitation works for making these things go down and stay down.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam is already dropping his shovel when the zombie things come up out of the ground.

Ghouls? No. Zombies? No. Viking Zombies? Maybe?

Either way, he keeps the crowbar in one hand and draws the pistol he has tucked away at the back of his jeans. Loaded with his pray and spray combo, cold iron slug, silver, then regular old lead.

He draws a bead on the closest zombie and squeezes the trigger once letting loose with the cold iron slug.

Castiel has posed:
The creatures don't seem particularly intelligent, other than they seem to be directing their efforts towards the pair. Oddly, they smell of seaweed and saltwater - even though there is nothing of that about them, and their skin looks to be dry and paperlike. It's an oddness to be certain.

And they don't shamble. They move fast. Like really fast for dead things. There's no darting out of the way and avoiding them because of the stupid.

Their teeth are pointy. They hands are clawed. And they do not look frightened at all. Seven of them. Three graves seem.. inert. That's really the best word for it.

And not that they're likely to notice, but as Sam and May move out of the shed - the trigger for this all happening - the chain gets shuffled and the padlock turns over. It's a real shame they didn't notice this before, and now's probably not when they see it, but there are runes on the back of that padlock, shiny amid the rust of the thing. Definite warding runes. Things to keep things in. Or thing..

Castiel has posed:
Sam's shot lands. It makes the muffled sound that everything here seems to be making. It makes a nice little hole in the creature, too. But doesn't seem to stop it. It just keeps moving towards him and May with intent. Of course, Sam might tweak that things a bullet doesn't stop things like silver, salt, or you know beheading, often work. There are those shovels..

Sam Winchester has posed:
Given the speed these things were moving, he had to make a choice, shovel or risk it on the silver slug working better than the cold iron one.

"Screw it," he says, the gun is set down and he picks up the shovel and rushes towards the nearest, whatever they were.

With a bellow he kicks the thing in the chest to give himself some distance then swings the shovel at his neck.

Melinda May has posed:
May didn't even bother pulling her sidearm. More direct combat is her preferred anyway. And these things being fast? That doesn't mean they've got any sort of training. So all she has to do is be faster, and use their momentum against them.

As the first one rushes forward and ignores getting shot, May moves past it to engage the next one, neatly ducking under and around it and pivoting, using her momentum to aim her butterfly swords at the thing's neck.

She knows they're sharp enough, but does she have enough force behind them for a beheading-strength strike?

Castiel has posed:
The things are fast.. but May has the right of it. They're totally not trained in hand to hand. Brutes they may be, and for sheer ability to bite and claw and rend folks to pieces they are unparalled - sufficient for most folks they'd go up against, only May and Sam aren't most folks.

Sam's creature goes falling back, and its friend comes climbing over him like he doesn't even exist as an impediment to movement. Sam's shovel hit misses the first shambler, but hits the second straight on, and where he slices into the neck, there's a deep wound that starts leaking ichor that curls down its body forming solid tendrils of seaweed.

May's however, doesn't even fare that well. Those butterfly swords do tandem slashes that meet in the middle and have the thing's head lolling back. For a moment, similar seaweed tendrils curl about it's body, but as fast as they form into something recognizeable, they grey, and turn to ash, leaving only the scent of rotten plantlife behind.

That's one down. One hurting. Another scrambling up from the ground.. and sadly, fast they may be, they're dumb enough that there's a bit of a traffic jam with the remaining four. All milling with arms outstretched trying to reach Sam and May. Were the pair further apart, or trying to run, the creatures might be winning this fight. But as it is? Enh.. probably not so much.

Sam Winchester has posed:
There is a beat when Sam double-takes as the creature's blood turns to seaweed. /That/ was definitely new, but then he's swinging the shovel again, and again if needed until that thing's head comes clean off.

Then he rounds on the one getting up, turning the shovel so the blade is up and down rather that across and bring it edge down onto the top of his head with all of his considerable strength behind it.

Castiel has posed:
As it happens, Sam's gamble is a good one. The shovel slices clean through the things skull, sending more of those tendrils of rotting seaweed spilling about, and as the shovel blade hits jaw level, the thing shrivels up into a foul smelling pile of decayed vegetative matter.

From behind Sam and May, there's a slow clap and an amused rumble of voice.

"I see you've found my pets. I do hope that they were courteous? After so long in the ground, one does find that they forget their manners."

As he speaks, the remainder of the things slink back to their graves. Notably, three graves now remain empty, with the piles of earth crumbled up and around the exit holes of the once-dead things that were buried there.

What stands in the entryway of the shed is a tall man, his hair gathered up and mounded at the nape of his neck. His skin withered and pale. His eyes a piercing blue. His lips a pale, pale green that verges upon silver. And about his neck is a richly embroidered cloth of scarlet. Upon it are trails of silver and gold embroidery, marking out patterns, that when picked apart and looked at under better lighting will prove to be a multi-layered depiction of ancient summoning symbols. But together, as they are, and certainly at this distance, they merely look to be a pleasing, if complex pattern of gold and silverwork.

"Of course, now that you're here, it would be a shame to let you leave in one piece. And since you've dispatched with some of my minions, only fitting that you should replace them."

He begins to intone in a deep, rich voice, crackles of blue energy forming about him.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam turns at the sound of the voice. He was expecting some sort of demon. He wasn't expecting what he got.

"Think I'll pass," he says glancing at the gun he left on the mossy ground near the creature's feet.

When the other things withdraw Sam sees his chance, thrusting a hand into the bag at his hip he draws out small vial of holy water and heaves it at the... king whatever standing behind them.

While it tumbles through the air, he dives for the gun.

Melinda May has posed:
May's reaction is a bit more ... well, May. Despite the new voice behind them, she watches the fanged and clawed things return to their 'resting' places and THEN turns to look at the man speaking.

She doesn't bother to quip like Sam did. Instead she flings the silver-inlaid sai at the ornate figure in the shed doorway. If it happens to collide with and break open the holy water vial on the way, that would just be a bonus. As will the possibility that it gives Sam that moment longer to grab his pistol off of the ground.

Castiel has posed:
The vial of holy water only makes the man laugh, his hand outstretched, causing the vial to stop mid-air. "Oh, you foolish child. I'm a man of the cloth, and this is hallowed ground. Do you honestly think that your little vial of bless-ed water is enough to stop me."

He laughs outright, even when May's sai hits the vial and he's splattered with the liquid, droplets of it staining the cloth about his neck.

"Only fools believe that all undead are condemned to the bowels of hell or ruled by heavenly guise. Your schooling is lacking boy."

The sai, however, lands a strike - first strafing across his palm, leaving a streak of red behind, and then grazing along his neck, likewise laving behind a trail of red. The sai itself embedding deep into the wood of the shed.

There's a cringe from the man, and the crackle of blue about him flickers for a moment, dissipating before flaring up again, but it's clear he's in some pain.

"The bitch knows her weapons. But not her lore. A good try. But not enough."

The intoning starts up again, and the crackle reaches outward towards the pair, and with it is a feeling of being drained. Like slowly being put to sleep. Or perhaps what drowning might feel like. It's all so very peaceful. Hypnotic.

Sam Winchester has posed:
"May stab him again!" Sam shouts.

The whatever was right, his schooling was lacking, but he was definitely going to be digging up some norse lore tonight.

Well, provided he survived.

Sam's hand grips the handle of his pistol and he lifts the weapon rolls so May isn't in the line of his shot, "You talk too much."

He squeezes the trigger.

Melinda May has posed:
That was the only cold iron weapon she brought. But, she has more silver. Let's hope it was the silver he reacted to. Sidestepping so she and Sam aren't in the same path of anything he might throw at them, she reaches into her jacket and produces a handful of small throwing knives, all of them gleaming silver. And she throws them rapid-fire at the being, one right after the other.

That drowning sensation? Oh HELL no. May's fight or flight response to mortal threats has fairly well been burned down to one thing: FIGHT. So once that last throwing knife and she thinks at Castiel as forcefully as she can, she charges the being with her butterfly swords in one hand. They're not silver (not YET, damnit), but they are wickedly sharp and she HAS been keeping them oiled with the stuff the rabbi from the synagogue on 51st street gave her.

She can only hope to distract the creature long enough for either Castiel to 'hear' her and get here, or for Sam to pull some metaphorical rabbit out of his hunter's duffel.

Castiel has posed:
Again, the thing laughs. Sam's bullet is grabbed out of thin air - to be certain it leaves a stigmata like mark upon his palm, but the man crumples it in his fist, leaving it a mishapen tribute he drops upon the ground.

"Oh, yes, it burns us. It can even hurt us. But it's not enough to down us, boy. Such a shame.. you don't have many of those, do you?"

When May charges, however, the thing takes notice. Or, to be more exact, one moment it is where she aims for, the next, it stands upon a mossy bit of ground between two gravemarkers.

Where the other creatures were fast, this one is fast /and/ sentient.

However, it hasn't dealt with the likes of Castiel yet.

The angel might be a royal pain in several person's asses, however he has been true to his word, and May is marked. When she thinks at him, it summons him, albeit with a grumbled, "I was just enjoying a --" And then he sees the creature, and pauses, his words settling into a silence of a snarl upon his lips.

The creature, however, gives an appreciative nod. "Oh my. A pet fallen. You are interesting creatures, aren't you? However, I really haven't time for games."

Castiel, however, has other thoughts on the matter, and unlike the undead priest, he doesn't feel the need for an evil overlord speech, drawing his heavenly blade from the nether that it exists in, and advances upon the undead thing. "You are an abomination in the eyes of the Lord."

"And you are a graceless syncophant in the same eyes," the undead intones back, mockingly, raising his hands, muttering dark words that crackle between himself and Castiel.

As of this moment, May and Sam matter little to nothing to the thing. But Castiel manages to hiss, "That cloth you fools" before advancing on the priest.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam grumbles a curse as his bullet is caught and sends the plain one in the magazine flying after it. Expecting no result but to distract the thing.

"What's your name?" he asks, a loaded question in their world where names had power.

Then May does what Sam should have done from the start. Summon Castiel.

"Get it," Sam says to May as he fires one last round at the creature when it turns and leaves off to avoid hitting the SHIELD agent. He's already getting to his feet planning to make a run for it if May gets the cloth.

Melinda May has posed:
While May is very glad that Castiel did bother to appear even when he was just enjoying ... something, she doesn't hesitate as the creature faces off against the angel. Ducking around behind Sam, she rushes up behind the creature to slash at its back with the butterfly swords in one hand while at the same time snatching the cloth from around its neck with the other.

"RUN!" She figures Sam won't need to be told twice.

And replacing all of those thrown and now abandoned blades is going to be expensive. Especially the sai. It was a custom build.

Castiel has posed:
Sam's demand for a name gets no response - in part because the thing is too engaged to care, and in part, not that Sam knows this, but it isn't bound by those antiquities. Not all undead obey the same rules. It's something of a matter of faith. Like gods who both draw and give power to and from their followers, so too do undead draw their strengths and weaknesses from the mythos that bind them. And there are as many bindings as there are gods in the heavens.

Castiel, however is familiar with many a lore beyond those that rule the supernatural (though he's no slouch there either), and while the undead thing chants at him, Castiel chants back at it.

It speaks in the tongues of magic - a thing Castiel recognizes, but does not practice; Castiel speaks words of binding. Angelic ones. Ones he's been left enough grace to utter.

Only the thing is no fool - it was a priest. Perhaps still is depending on how you look at matters. And, as they say, timing is everything. Were either Sam or May a millisecond slower, the cloth would be lost, because the thing recognizes Castiel's chant and does not care to be bound again. Not unless it's by his own rules, and that he sees is not likely to be the case.

And since the pair have released him, albeit in a weakened state, he sees no need to remain upon the premises. With a gesture that is both archaic and arcane, the thing disappears. And within a heartbeat, Castiel follows. Leaving Sam and May standing in the ruins of a graveyard, a light rain pattering down upon them, and the soft sounds of frogs drifting up from the ravine. The smell of wet earth and woodsmoke drifting about. Nothing to show for their encounter but the embroidered cloth, and crumbled piles of dirt in front of rune marked gravestones.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam doesn't realize he's breathing hard until both the thing and Castiel vanish.

He lowers the gun, and looks to May.

"You alright?" he asks, head still on a swivel in case the thing comes back.

"We should get out of here," he suggests a glance thrown back towards the way they came in.

Melinda May has posed:
"Fine." She looks around again, and now realizes it's raining on them and she can hear night time noises from nearby. Seems like she can retrieve her thrown weapons after all.

"Get your things. We should clear out as fast as possible."

She ... might have to ask for help pulling the sai out of the shed wall.