Lavender's Blue

27. Croatoan

"Morning," Dean greeted.

"Good morning," Mark replied. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah." Dean pulled out a badge. "Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard. Pardon the kid. U.S. Marshals."

"What's this about?"

"We're looking for someone," Sam told him. "A young man, early 20s," Sam added, flashing to his vision. "He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline."

"What'd he do?" Mark asked.

"Well, nothing. We're actually looking or someone else, but we think this young man could help us."

"Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet," Dean said, glancing down at Mark's left arm, which showed a distinctive tattoo. "I think maybe you know who he is... Master Sergeant." He smiled. "My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal."

"What company?"

"Echo-2-1."

"So can you help us?" Sam questioned.

Mark hesitated. "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean."

"Oh, I'm sure he does," Dean replied. "Um. You know where he lives?"

"With his family, up Aspen Way."

"Thank you."

They left. Mark frowned as he watched them go. Across the street, Sam bumped into a telephone pole and glanced at it in passing. He stopped, seeing a single word carved into the wood: CROATOAN.

They approached the pole and Sam pointed at the word with a significant look. "Hey."

"Croatoan?" Dean repeated.

"Yeah." Dean looked at him blankly. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"

"Yeah! Shot 'heard round the world, How bills become laws..."

"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock."

"Whatever."

"Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan."

"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories -- Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight."

"You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean..."

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?"

"Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always connected to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..."

"We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Dean pulled out his phone and frowned at it. "I don't have a signal."

Sam did the same and shook his head. "I don't either."

They walked to a pay phone and Dean picked it up. He heard the out of service beeping and clicked the receiver several times. Kit touched the phone curiously.

"Line's dead," Dean said, hanging up. "I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

They drove to the Tanner house, in the middle of nowhere. Sam, Dean and Kit approached the front. By the door was a small tacky plaque that read, BORN TO FISH; FORCED TO WORK. Sam knocked on the door and a teenaged boy with dark spiked hair, Jake, opened it.