Hey, all,

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural - I just did this to see if I could. And I was inspired by such writers as Ripa, Woman in White and Steffs. And the Vs team (wow!) Also, any words which look a little weird in the spelling - please forgive - I'm an Aussie.

I wrote this on the encouragement of a dear friend, and she is threatening to sign up herself and post it for me if I don't get up the courage to do it myself. :thud

So here goes - please be gentle. Oh, by the way - Sammy fans - I need you to trust me - I know that is a big ask, but I can't say more than that.


On The Wings of Angels - by Mizpah

Part 1

“SAMMY! NO!”

His big brother’s anguished cry was the last sound Sam Winchester heard as his broken body crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag doll.

The demon laughed.


One week earlier

‘Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I’ve witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me, my brothers in arms’
(Brothers in Arms – Dire Straits)

The black Impala barrelled through the dark, arrowing its way along the winding back road.

“You’re sure about this.” Dean’s voice broke the uneasy silence that had lasted for miles. His hands gripped the wheel a little tighter, dreading the reply.

“Yes.” The pained whisper came almost too softly to hear over the growl of the engine.

Dean shot a lightning glance toward the passenger seat. Sam huddled against the door, the heels of his hands pressed to his temples, eyes shut tight. What Dean could see of his brother’s face was pale and drawn. Sweat dappled his forehead & trickled down his neck, glistening in the faint glow from the dashboard lights. Sam looked exhausted, and aged. Worn down. Hell, they were both beat. But in the past few weeks, the younger had stopped smiling. The dark expressive eyes had turned sombre, introspective. He had grown quieter as the headaches and visions became more frequent and intense, no longer responding to big brother’s teasing and banter. Dean would have given anything to see that dimpled grin flash out across the younger man’s face.

Sam flinched as the big car hit a bump in the road, jarring his throbbing head.

“Dude, you okay? You want me to pull over?” There was no mistaking the worry in the elder’s tone.

“Pull over.” The words were muffled as Sam clapped a hand to his mouth.

“Crap!” Dean slammed on the brakes, flinging a protective arm across his brother’s chest as the car skidded to a halt. Fumbling blindly for the handle, Sam flung open the door and fell out onto the grass verge, landing on his hands and knees and retching violently.

“Sam? Sam!”

Vaguely Sam heard the driver’s door slam & running footsteps. Then strong hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him up to sit with his back against the car. A cool damp handkerchief wiped the sweat from his face, and a bottle of water was pushed into his shaking hands.

“Rinse your mouth.”

Groggily, Sam did as he was told, then leaned his head back against the Impala, eyes closed. The damp cloth again bathed his ashen face.

“Sammy? Talk to me, man.”

“Give…give…me a…minute.”

Slowly his sense of the world righted itself. He became aware of the night noises along the deserted road, the tick of the Chevy’s engine as it cooled, the chill breeze ruffling his sweat-soaked hair. He heard his own laboured breathing, and the soft scuffle of a body shifting position, then felt his brother’s hand gripping his shoulder. Sam took a deep, ragged breath and opened his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He tried to reassure his overprotective sibling.

“Sam, you are so far from okay…”

Sam tried again. “I’ll be okay.” He looked up. Big brother was wearing his trademark ‘I don’t buy it for a second’ look. Dean merely shook his head.

“Okay, tough guy, have it your way. Can you stand up?”

“Yeah.”

Sam gathered his long legs under him and tried to push himself off the ground. Then his arm was grasped and pulled across Dean’s shoulders, and Dean’s arm wrapped around his waist as he was lifted to his feet.

Concern marked Dean’s features as he settled his brother back inside the car. Reaching across Sam’s knees, he grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from the glove compartment and palmed three of the pills, handing them over with the last of the water.

“Jeez, Sam, your visions have never made you this sick before. Here, see if you can keep these down.”

Sam took the pills with a grimace. “Fingers crossed.” He sighed softly. “It means we’re getting close.”

Dean made a face. “To the demon?”

‘Yeah.”

“So it’s definitely headed back to Lawrence. Of all the places to choose from.”

Sam turned his aching head to look into Dean’s wide green eyes. “That’s where it all started. That’s where we’ll finish it.”

* * * * *

Good start keep going!!

Oh...my...GOD!!!

I love it!!! :D

And...yes...I'm going to trust you...........with Sam.........:thud

No wonder your friend threatened you!!! You must thank her for us!!! :D

Keep going!

Trust you with Sam? Okay I trust you. Just don't hurt him too badly.

I have to agree with kburch04 on this one. I loved it.!!!!! :D :D :D

Poor Sammy though, Anyways I can't wait till the next update. Which there better be one or I think your friend will post it anyways.*Giggles* (My friends did pretty much the same thing, so I know how you feel. Worst thing is they can bug me at school if I don't give them updates and there just happens to be way [/I[I]]more of them then me.

Great writing and keep it up!!

Thank you, girls - especially Kristen - I've been reading some of your stuff and you are good! Thanks for the encouragement.

Anyway, here is part two. Hope you like...

Part 2

Dean woke, and for a moment just lay quietly, listening. The soft breathing from the next bed reassured him, and he rolled over to do a visual check on his sibling.

He’d finally convinced Sam that finding a motel and getting a few hours sleep was a really good idea. Sam had first argued, then silently fumed, and finally gave in as the painkillers wore off and the spikes of pain hammered behind his eyes again. He’d staggered into the room and crawled onto the farthest bed with a groan. He was already asleep when Dean had brought in their bags. Big brother had gently removed little brother’s sneakers, re-positioned his head on the pillow, and covered him with a blanket to ward off the night’s chill.

In the watery light of the early morning, Dean studied his sleeping brother’s face. Sam lay peacefully enough, head turned towards his big brother, wisps of dark hair falling across his closed eyelids, one long-fingered hand trailing over the edge of the bed. But Dean noted the increased pallor beneath the tan, the drawn, pinched look, and the lines that had no business being on such a young face. Even after six hours sleep, he still looked worse than the day before.

Sighing, the elder Winchester peeled back the bedclothes and began packing for another day on the road.

Present

Screaming on the inside, Dean crawled against the whirlwind to his baby brother. Sam’s head lay at an odd angle, the spark already fading from his soulful eyes. As the last gasping breath rattled in his broken throat, with the last fading spark of will he had left, he pleaded silently with his big brother…


Three days earlier

Before they had a chance to knock, a soft voice called to them – “Sam & Dean, you just come right on in here and let me look at you.”

Missouri Mosley stood smiling as the boys trooped in. Her eyes strayed to Sam & she hesitated, shooting a worried glance at Dean before taking Sam’s hand. “Honey, you look about all in – here, come in and sit down.”

“Hey, Missouri,” Sam softly greeted. She noted the absence of the smile and the pained squint of the eyes as he allowed himself to be led to the kitchen, big brother trailing watchfully. As she busied herself with boiling water and coffee, Sam sat at the table with his head in his hands, too tired to talk. Missouri gave Dean a searching look as she poured coffee for him, and herbal tea for herself and Sam.

“Here, honey, you drink that down. Now, tell me what all possessed you to decide to go up against this thing by yourselves.”

Dean stood silently behind Sam’s chair, his eyes on his brother. Sam sipped his tea, wincing a little as the hot liquid burned his tongue. Missouri took the seat opposite Sam and waited.

Finally, Sam put down the cup and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends as if to pull the thoughts from his head. “It’s the only way. We know the demon will come after me, so I’m the logical bait. We’ll lure it in, trap it, and exorcise it, and this – this nightmare will finally be over.”

Missouri shook her head. “How are you so sure that you can lure it to you?”

Sam tapped his finger against his temple. “Because it’s coming here. I’ve seen what it’s going to do. And…” He stole an uneasy glance at his protector. “And, I’ve seen it coming for us. In my visions.”

Dean blanched at the words but said nothing. He and his brother had already had this particular argument days ago, and he had lost out to his younger sibling. They just couldn’t let this thing keep destroying families and lives and wreaking havoc and destruction unchecked.

Again, Missouri glanced up at Dean. He sighed, shaking his head and pointedly looking at the back of Sam’s head. She tried again with the younger man.

Sam, do you really think this is the best course? Surely this is not what your mother and father wanted for you – to sacrifice yourself to this thing. Don’t you think it’s had enough Winchester blood?”

“Do you really think this is what Mom would have wanted for us?”

Dean heard the younger Sam’s voice outside the apartment at Stanford, the night he went and dragged his brother away from school, from his girlfriend, from his safe life, and threw him back into this. Dean bit his lip. I should have left him there…

“This thing has to be stopped, Missouri. And I’m going to stop it. Here. Now.” Sam stared into his empty cup, jaw clenched. His head dropped for a moment, then he straightened again, looking into the eyes of their hostess. “Or die trying.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Sam. You’re going to just give yourself to this evil. There has to be another way. You’re not thinking clearly.” Missouri pleaded.

“I’m not sari…I’m…not…” Sam shook his head. “I’m not sacrificing myself. Not like Dad.” At his shoulder, Dean flinched as guilt stabbed him. ‘Putting myself in the fine…in the line of fire – is not a sacrifice. It’s my job – our job.” Sam shook his head again to clear it. His arms felt like lead, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes. So tired…so damned tired…

Dean caught him as he slid sideways off the chair.

“Sammy! What the hell?” He shot an incredulous look at their hostess. “You drugged him?”

“He’s all right – he’ll sleep for awhile. Boy, don’t you sass me – he needs to rest, and you and I need to talk.” Missouri glared determinedly at the brothers. Dean, with an armful of knocked-out sibling, suddenly didn’t feel inclined to argue.

Missouri!!! The nerve!! Hahahahaha you go girl! Protect Sam from himeslf!

*blushes* Glad you like my work. :D Meanwhile yours has me not liking the 'present' predicament.

Remember....I'm trusting you with Sam.........*begins to bite nails*

This is really good - your friends were right!
I'll trust you with Sam...but girl - you better be careful *pats Sam's shoulder*
:D

Amazing update. :cheer Just don't make me regret trusting you with Sam.
I can't wait for more so please hurry!!

Just caught up. :lol: Loving this Awsome story by the way. :D Keep it coming. :hi5 Way- :cheer to- :cheer go- :cheer !!

Captivating story so far.
Way to go Missouri :D
Can't wait to know what'll happen next :)

Loving it...just remember that there are tons of sam girls here watching his back so you better be carefull :D


Cant wait for the next chapter.

:clap lovely,this is a good story, so glad you decided to post it and thanks friend for forcing the issue. I love missori and Sam so cant miss with this fic. i agree with the others totally trusting you with sam,we like a liitle hurting but NO KILLING.O of course i love Dean too.

wow this is good stuff
update soon

Ok - now I am really biting my fingernails... so many Sam girls (gulp) - any Dean girls out there???

Keep trusting me on the Sam issue - but remember, the darkest hour is just before the dawn.
My friend thanks you, and she is now a member of this fantastic site (sigh). So now, as well as ringing me, texting me on the mobile phone, and turning up at my house, she can now nag me on a public forum to keep posting. Shaz - if these girls lynch me, it's ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!! :bang Oh, well, you know where my will is kept...

Anyway, there's light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not the train coming!

Shaz, I'm still not entirely happy with that bit at the end, but Nanna always told me to stop picking at it otherwise it will never get better, so I've left it alone for now.

So - part three - enjoy

Part 3

The woman put down the book she had been idly leafing through, and gazed off into space, listening intently. Eventually she nodded, and stood, smoothing down her skirt. She turned to her companion. “It’s time to go.”

The man stood also, but hesitated. “If it is permitted to ask…”

She gestured for him to continue.

“I know why I am here, but if I may – why have you been sent?” The man laced his fingers together. “I mean no disrespect.”

The woman turned, face hidden in shadow. “Why am I here? In case he falls.”

* * * * *

Dean paced the room like a caged animal. With Sam blissfully out cold, he and Missouri had gone over and over the plan to destroy the demon. They had reviewed everything they knew about the thing and its habits, looking for chinks in its armour. But in the end, the one chink they kept coming back to was the one chink Dean wished to hell they didn’t have to use – the 6’4” shaggy-haired demon magnet sprawled untidily across the sofa.

Missouri set down a tray of coffee and sandwiches. “Boy, you gonna wear a hole in my carpet. If you want to walk around all night, take off those damned boots!”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. He defiantly drove his booted feet down harder as he again took a turn about the room, swinging by the couch for the thousandth time to check on Sam. “How long is he going to be out?” he demanded.

“Couple more hours. He’ll be fine.” Missouri watched him take up his circuit of the room once again.

“Dean.” He turned at the sound of his name, spoken softly. Missouri watched him, reading the whirlwind of emotions streaming off the young hunter.

“Dean, I’m sorry about your father.”

He cringed inside. Don’t - his mind screamed.

Missouri’s dark eyes widened. “Honey – come here and sit down.” She drew out a chair, and surprisingly, he obeyed.

“Dean, what happened was not your fault. Your father…”

“Dad died because of me!” He bit out. He clenched his fists against the table top.

Missouri leaned forward. “Your daddy died the same night as your mother.”

Dean’s head jerked up in shock. “What? What are…”

“Your daddy died inside when Mary was killed. He was never the same. Oh, he did his best to keep going for you boys. But the grief, and the anger, and the need for revenge - it took him over. It took him away from his family. He was here, you know. Last time you were here, when you and Sam saved that woman and her children in your old house.”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Dad was here? And he didn’t - .” He choked on the words.

“I begged him to go talk to you boys. He said he wanted to, but he couldn’t. Not until he knew the truth, he said. And when he found it, he knew what he had to do.”

“It’s up to you boys now. It’s your fight – you finish this.”

The young man was trembling. Missouri put a steading hand on his arm. “Your father knew he had to hand over the burden to you. You see, honey, Sam may be the key to the demon, but you’re the key to Sam. John knew that – knew that if you had died, then Sam would have died too.”

She squeezed his arm, and then went on. “Sam’s a lot like his daddy. It’s why they fought all the time. John could see it in Sam, especially after Jessica died – the same rage and grief that was eating him was in his son. There was only one person who could counter that rage. Only one person Sam looked up to enough and loved enough to listen to. And if that person was taken away, then Sam would have gone out of control. His rage would have taken over, then the demon would have taken him.”

Dean cleared his throat. “In the cabin – when the demon was possessing Dad. Sam – he believed me when I said it wasn’t Dad. He didn’t even argue.” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “All our lives, it was mostly just me and him. Dad was always away hunting something – and even when he was home…” He shook his head. “When Sam went away to Stanford, I felt like…”

“Like part of you was missin’. And let me tell you something else. If you hadn’t dragged Sam out of school, he would have died that night along with his girlfriend.”

Dean grimaced. “I was driving away, heading out to keep looking for Dad, then something made me turn around and go back. I got to the door, and heard him screaming out Jess’s name. I kicked the door down…”

He broke off as a soft thump and a grunt was heard from the corner of the room. Crouching down beside the couch, he re-positioned his brother’s dangling arm and brushed a stray lock of hair from his cheek. He looked up at the psychic, determination in his gaze. “I won’t lose him again.”

Present

Finish it, Dean, for me – finish it. Over the triumphant howling of the demon and the roar of the wind, Dean heard his brother’s soft voice in his head. I love you, man. Shaking with the force of his grief, Dean reached out and snatched up his father’s journal, fingers searching the pages for the ritual they had used so often.

One day earlier

The woman watched the tall young man leaning up against the big black Chevy, the collar of his leather jacket turned up against the chill breeze. She watched him studying the crowd, saw him tense, and then relax, as potential threats were identified, evaluated, and dismissed. The nondescript man next to her followed her gaze.

“Is he the one?” he asked.

“One of them.” She turned slightly, spotted a taller young man hurrying through the throng of people toward the black car, his head clearly visible over the crowd. She made a slight, subtle gesture. “And there is the other one.”

The man frowned. “They do not look much of a threat.”

The woman smiled slightly. “Oh, they are. Make no mistake.”

* * * * *

“Hey.” Dean glanced up at the familiar voice, and saw his little brother dodging the morning shoppers with the grace of a dancer. Sam reached his side, turning to sit with his back against the windscreen as he handed Dean a coffee and delivered his report.

“The warehouse checks out, just like in my vision. It’s been abandoned for months – something about being tied up in a legal battle over the dead owner’s will. They finally got it cleared to be put up for sale.” Sam fished in his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys, jingling them at his brother. “We can have the keys for 48 hours.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “What did you tell the realtor?”

“That we needed to measure up for the machinery, and storage racks, and talk to our shareholders. So…”

“So.” The elder hunter sipped his coffee. “We move in tonight. Take the car, go back and get our stuff. Meet me back here in two hours, okay?”

Sam slipped from his perch. “What are you gonna do?”

Dean flipped him the car keys. “I’m going to check out the district – get the lay of the land. If we have to get out fast, I need to know where to get.”

“Do you want the warehouse keys?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. I just want to look around.”

The woman watched the brothers separate, and made her plans.

* * * * *

“What the…” Dean turned as he was bumped from behind. Twisting around, he saw a smallish, plain looking woman standing with an embarrassed expression.

“Oh, excuse me, young man. I am so sorry.” The words came out in a clipped British accent. “I felt a little dizzy…” The woman put a hand to her head and swayed slightly.

“Hey, it’s okay. Here, sit down.” Dean grabbed her arm and led her to a nearby bench, steadying her as they walked.

“Oh, thank you. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Uh, do you need a doctor, or…?”

She shook her head as Dean sat down beside her. “Oh, no. It will pass. I’ve been rushing around like a headless chook. I just overdid it. I’ll be right as rain in a few minutes.” She smiled up at him. “Well, I suppose we’d better get acquainted, since we bumped into each other so fortuitously. Michelle Fortescue. And you are?”

Dean shook the hand that was extended towards him. “Dean. Winchester.” He had no idea why he told her his real name.

The woman raised a delicate eyebrow. “Like the rifle?”

He grinned. “Like the rifle.” He thought to himself that the woman, although pleasant looking, looked nothing like a Michelle. Average height, average build, average looks, brown hair, and brown eyes – everything was forgettable. Even her plain white jacket and skirt was unmemorable. Just another face in the crowd. He stood up.

“Well, if you’re okay, I’d better be going. I’ve got to meet someone in half an hour.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you, Mr Winchester, once again, for coming to my rescue, as it were.”

“That’s okay – don’t mention it.”

“Oh, Mr Winchester?”

“Hmm?” Turning, Dean glanced at the woman who was now rummaging in her handbag. He put up a hand, thinking she was going to give him money, and preparing to refuse. Instead, she held out a tiny plastic case. Inside the case was a sliver of dark wood. Dean took it, turning it in his hands, puzzlement evident in his features.

“What is this?”

Michelle smiled once again. “It’s just a little something I picked up over in the Holy Lands. It’s a genuine piece of the cross of Jesus Christ. I keep it for good luck, protection, that sort of thing.”

Dean tried to hand the case back. She stepped back, shaking her head.

“No, no. I want you to have it. It’s my way of saying thanks for rescuing a lady in distress. It will bring you blessing. It has done so to me.”

Dean grimaced. “Look, uh, Michelle – I don’t – I don’t believe in that stuff…”

“Oh? Then why do you have that amulet around your neck? This is much more powerful. Please. You don’t have to believe. Just carry it in your pocket, and see what happens.”

Dean sighed. What would it hurt, anyway? He took the case back and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket, nodding his thanks.

When he met up with Sam, he was still puzzling over the gift. Then he mentally shrugged. Hell, with what they were going to face, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra mojo working for them, even if he didn’t really believe the so-called holy relic was genuine.

That night

The brothers set out their tools of trade, Dean seeing to the weapons and Sam laying a salt trail around the perimeter of the warehouse, leaving a gap across the door to the office area so the demon could get in, but keeping the salt container handy to trap it once inside. When he was done, he dragged a ladder across the entryway, and perched on the top rung to draw the protective circles on the office ceiling. Dean turned on the EMF and put it on the floor, angling the sensor towards the door.

When the work was done, they sat in the corner of the office and ate the sandwiches Missouri had sent back with Sam. Dean fished around in the bottom of the bag, and he grinned as he pulled out two beers. He tossed one to his sibling and leaned back with a contented sigh.

“I swear, Sammy, this is the life. We got food, we got beer, we got a demon hot on our tails – what more could we want?” He snickered at his own joke.

Sam grunted as he cracked open his beer. Taking a swig, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Dean, he began, “what are you going to do after this? I mean, when this is all over and the demon is destroyed?”

Dean abruptly became serious. He took a sudden overwhelming interest in the toes of his boots as he tried to avoid answering the question.

But Sam would not be put off. “Dean? What do you want to do?”

He sighed, thumping his head lightly against the wall. “I know, I know – you’re going back to Stanford – back to your normal, safe life. And I guess I’ll just…” He started as a hand came down on his shoulder.

Sam’s gaze was intense. “I didn’t ask you what you thought I would like to do, I asked you what you would like to do. Kindly give me a straight answer.” The statement was delivered in a monotone, but Sam’s eyes burned with an emotion Dean couldn’t quite identify. He laughed to cover his sudden nervousness.

“Dude, back off. Okay?” He swallowed another mouthful of beer to give himself time to think. His brother continued to stare.

“Look,” he began hesitantly, “I know you want to go back to your life, and I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. I guess I’ll just keep on hunting. I mean, just because we kill the demon doesn’t mean that puts an end to every evil SOB in the country, right? So…”

“I’m not going back to Stanford.” Sam’s voice was still flat.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m not going back to Stanford – unless you come with me.”

Dean was confused. “Sammy, what…”

“We’re family, Dean. We’re all that’s left. I don’t want to go somewhere you’re not. So I’ll ask again – what do you want to do? Because I’m going with you, and I’d really like to know what our next gig is going to be.”

Dean felt his throat close up, and his eyes burned. He looked away, fighting for control. Sam’s hand was still on his shoulder, and he felt the comforting grip steady him. He took a deep breath.

“Sam, I…” He gulped, and tried again. “ Thanks. I want us to stick together too. We’re stronger as a team. If you’re sure about sticking with me…?”

Sam merely nodded.

“Then I guess I’ll sleep on it, and we’ll decide in the morning where we’ll go next. Maybe a little vacation?”

“I love you, brother.”

The unexpected admission caught Dean flat-footed. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. In the light of the torch, he gripped hands with Sam, and their eyes spoke volumes.

* * * * *

The woman watched from the shadows across the street as the torchlight faded into the dark, and the warehouse became still. The nondescript man was by her side.

“Stay alert but hidden. It will happen in the early hours, just before dawn. Guard the perimeter.”

The man nodded his assent and faded off into the dark.

Oh, OH, OH! :thud What is going to happen? :o Please update real soon. :rolleyes: I'm still trusting you with Sam. :blink: So please protect him. :uzi (Or i will have to :supes ) LOL! :D

Terrific update
Loved the conversation between Dean and Sam :)
Who's that Michelle and that guy <_<
The piece of wood, why she gave it to Dean <_<
So much questions, can't wait for more :)

interesting
update soon

Ok - home from work early - thank heavens for Fridays. Here is part 4 - and if I get really enthusiastic, I may post the epilogue tonight. Special treat for the weekend. :D

Thank you all once again for your support for a very novice writer.

Hang on to your hats - white water ahead....

Part 4

The hour before dawn

‘There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship’s smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying’
(Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd)

Sam woke, disoriented for a moment. He listened, trying to remember what slight sound had driven him from sleep. Then he heard it again – a faint whimper of pain. He shot to his feet, grabbing for his shotgun and spinning around.

Dean stood, pinned to the wall by an unseen force, a look of agony on his face. His eyes rolled toward his brother, beseeching him for help. In the shadows outside the office stood a figure, yellow eyes glowing in the gloom of pre-dawn.

“Hello, Samuel. You have certainly made it easy for me this time.”

Sam fired, and the demon evaporated into smoke as the rock salt passed through the space he’d inhabited. He ran to Dean’s side and stood guard before him, shotgun cocked and ready. He flashed a feral grin at his brother, white teeth flashing. “Vacation sounds good right about now, huh?” He was rewarded with a familiar smirk, and the pain took second place as Dean refocussed on the hunt. Then the demon coalesced with an inhuman laugh. The EMF screamed as the thing walked into its range.

Sam steadied down to aim, but the shotgun was torn from his fingers and sent spinning out into the warehouse. Then he was picked up and thrown the length of the office, smashing into the far wall shoulders first. He landed in a heap on the floor, winded but undeterred.

Dean gritted his teeth and tried to push past the force holding him to the wall, every muscle writhing against the unseen grip. He winced as Sam got tossed into the wall, but breathed silent thanks as he saw his brother untangle himself and scramble back to his feet.

Snatching up the container of salt, Sam rolled back toward the door. The demon let him get almost to the entryway, then picked him up and tossed him again, harder this time. It smiled savagely as Sam hit the wall and rebounded halfway back, sprawling onto the floor face first.

It turned back to Dean. “Isn’t this fun?” It stalked forward, intending to terrorise the elder hunter up close, but drew back with a hiss. Dean frowned. The demon regarded him with concern and – was it – a little fear? What was causing that?

“What’ve you got there, Deanie?” the beast snarled. It again tried to reach forward, but snatched its hand back as though burned, hissing and cursing. Dean frantically tried to think as the thing again went for his brother.

Sam was intent on pushing himself up from the floor, shaking his ringing head to clear it. He almost made it before he was again thrown down the length of the office. This whole ‘throw Sam around the room’ crap is really getting old, he thought to himself. He dropped to the floor and crawled slowly back to the centre of the action, head spinning and eyes blurring.

The demon began to stalk Sam. “You have been a thorn in my side, Samuel.” It gestured, and Sam was dragged to his knees, head flung back. “You didn’t die in my convenient car accident. You didn’t fall prey to my beautiful virus.” Again it gestured, and Sam gasped, hands flying to his throat as he began to choke. “And worst of all, from my point of view,” the demon stepped closer, “you didn’t turn to fight for my side like you were supposed to do. That will earn you mega demerit points, Samuel.”

As the demon concentrated on Sam, Dean felt the pressure on his body lessen slightly. Just enough for him to clear his head and remember a possible reason why the demon would back off. Now, if he could only get loose, he would give the arrogant SOB a thing or two to think about. He forced his head around and watched, panicked as Sam’s face reddened with the effort to draw breath.

Sam struggled against demonic hands squeezing his throat. Drilling his focus down to a fine point, he managed to move the powerful force back a scant inch, gulping in much needed air. The demon snarled.

“So! Been practicing, have we? Well, we’ll have none of that.”

The demon stepped forward again…to stop in confusion. He looked up to see the protective circle right above his head. Then he glared at the brothers in unadulterated rage. His grip on the boys wavered.

Immediately Dean was released, he ran to his brother. Sam swayed on his knees, gasping, and watching the demon. Sunset coloured marks were already forming on his throat from his near-strangulation. He reached for their father’s journal to begin the exorcism rite.

As Sam began the familiar Latin ritual, Dean watched the captured entity with a satisfied grin. It was nearly over, and then he and Sam were going to take a nice long break and sit in the sun for a while. But as the ritual went on, and the demon just stood there, he got a bad feeling that they had lost control of the situation. His fears were confirmed as he found his feet glued to the floor. He heard Sam’s startled grunt, then a hideous wheeze as his baby brother was lifted clean off the floor and held suspended three feet in the air, choking to death.

The beast howled. Then it pinned Dean with its yellow-eyed glare. “Did you think you could defeat me with your parlour tricks? I will kill him first, and you will watch.” It growled. “Then I will shred your flesh from your bones and leave you to rot.” It snapped its fingers into a fist, and Dean’s world tilted as he heard a sickening crunch. He looked up, and his heart seized. Sam’s gaze met his horrified brother’s as his head was twisted savagely around, his neck breaking with a snap. The beast released its hold.

“SAMMY! NO!”

His big brother’s anguished cry was the last sound Sam Winchester heard as his broken body crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag doll.

The demon laughed.

In the shadows, the woman watched. Her eyes glittered, and she started forward, towards the showdown.

Dean couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He dropped to all fours as the demon raised its arms and gave forth a howl of victory. From out of nowhere a wind picked up, gaining strength and whirling around in the confines of the office space.

Screaming on the inside, Dean crawled against the whirlwind to his baby brother. Sam’s head lay at an odd angle, the spark already fading from his soulful eyes. As the last gasping breath rattled in his broken throat, with the last fading spark of will he had left, he pleaded silently with his big brother…

Sobbing, Dean reached his brother’s side. Locking eyes with his dying sibling, he reached out in a vain attempt to stop the eternal darkness from taking the last of his family. He caught the message in Sam’s failing eyes.

Finish it, Dean, for me – finish it. Over the triumphant howling of the demon and the roar of the wind, Dean heard his brother’s soft voice in his head. I love you, man. Shaking with the force of his grief, Dean reached out and snatched up his father’s journal, fingers searching the pages for the ritual they had used so often.

The demon’s howls tapered off as its blood lust was temporarily quenched. It savoured the fear and the anguish that it had just drank, and wanted more. It turned, facing the remaining hunter, grinning maniacally.

The click of heels sounded in the abandoned building, coming closer with each step.

“Azazel.” The clipped British voice spoke into the howling of the wind, cutting like a knife to the monster within the room. “You are bound, snake.”

The demon looked, and cringed. Dean looked, and gaped. It was the woman he’d met the day before, the one who had given him the sliver of wood supposedly from the cross of Calvary. What the hell?

“YOU!” The demon raged.

She smiled. “Ah, you remember me. How thrilling. Now, to business.”

She looked down at Sam’s unmoving form with infinite pity, then her glittering eyes travelled to Dean. “Let us begin.”

Dean nodded, not understanding why she was here, but willing to do anything to get rid of the thing that had slaughtered his family, his life. He picked up his father’s journal once more, and started the ritual from the beginning.

She began to speak softly in counterpart to him – Dean didn’t recognise the language, it wasn’t anything like Latin, or anything he’d ever heard. He tried his best to concentrate, but found he could not continue. He watched, fascinated, as the demon screamed and writhed in torment, locked in its protective circle, powerless and weakening. Then he realised that he didn’t want to send the thing back to hell – he wanted to destroy it for good. And he just might have the means to do so. He put down the journal.

The woman came to the end of her chant, and fell silent, waiting. The demon groaned and howled, frothing at the mouth.

Dean fumbled in his pocket and withdrew the tiny plastic case holding the splinter. He held it up, turning it in the dull light. The demon howled louder and tried anew to escape its prison. The woman nodded approval.

Slowly, Dean got to his feet. He opened the case, taking out the tiny sliver of ancient wood. Staggering slightly, he moved toward the cringing thing in the centre of the room. He took a deep breath, and plunged the splinter deep into its flesh. “Eat that, you son of a bitch!”

The air split with the beast’s howl of anguish. Dean dropped back beside the body of his brother, hands clapped over his ears. The beast writhed and jittered, shrivelling before his eyes. He heard rather than saw the thing implode, scattering greasy black ash gently across the floor. A final, despairing shriek shredded the air. And just like that, it was over. The wind died, detritus falling to the ground all around them. Sound died, leaving only the heart-wrenching sobs of the sandy-haired young hunter. He ignored the growing light in the room as he got to his knees and futilely began to straighten out his brother’s tangled limbs.

He finally got to his little brother’s shattered neck. Slipping a hand under the dark head, he tried vainly to put his brother back together again. The light grew steadily brighter as he sobbed, “Oh, God, please, please..”

Time stopped.

The mysterious woman stood looking down at the brothers, seeing endless possibilities. She saw the future stretching away in limitless lines of time. Saw the brothers, middle aged, with children of their own, at family bar-be-cues, Christmas gatherings. Saw John Winchester, hale and hearty but aged, dangling grandchildren on his knee as he told them stories, his sons smiling tolerantly in the background. Saw friends, lovers, and wives. Saw Dean, carrying on alone, lost and broken, but still fighting till the bitter end. Sam, alive but separated from Dean, living his life as he had planned – study, law, a home, but some vital spark missing from his everyday life.

Hundreds of possibilities, but through it all, she saw two figures, shining bright – the seer and the warrior, unbeaten and undimmed. She saw them going on together, fighting the evil that welled up in this world, battered but victorious. Each carrying a part of the other. The soldier with the heart of a saint – the visionary with the fierce fighting spirit. Each one’s destiny entwined with the other.

All the timelines merged slowly into one – this one reality, and the one truth it possessed above all else.

Dean gently cradled his brother’s tousled dark head, tears falling unheeded. He stared into Sam’s waxy face, searching, praying, for some spark of life – some sign that he was mistaken, that his brother was still alive. With his free hand, he brushed the long bangs out of the wide, empty eyes.

“You’re my brother, and I’d die for you.” No, Sam, not you – not you.

“As long as I’m around, nothing bad is going to happen to you.” Sam, I’m sorry.

“You can’t go, man – not now. We were just starting to be brothers again.” Please, God, please…

A tear fell from the older sibling’s cheek onto the younger’s. A single ray of sunlight spilled through the window as the sun rose, bathing the brothers in a soft golden light.

And slowly, Sam’s eyelids blinked.

This has been really great - can't wait for that epilogue!
Short though....you're writing more, right? :D

ARGGGGGGGG....what have you done?????You have left us hanging at just the worst time...now get back in here and post the rest!!!!!

No really it was great and i cant wait for the next chapter.

:o NO! You just can't leave it there. It's not fair. Okay so I did the same thing, now I know what my readers feel like.


PLEASE, please post more.

I trusted you with Sammy, and I think he's going to be okay. To one of your earlier questions. I'm a Dean girl too. Sammy is more like me though, so it's easier to relate to him. My friend is more the Dean type. Oh and I'm going to get her to read this, so someone else can tell you to hurry. :D


Ally

Thanks, guys.

Lanfear - I'm like Sammy, too, and I have an aunt who is my Dean. She's a few years older than me, and we are very close. She's always looked out for me, even now that I'm 40-something, so I know exactly where you are coming from.

Ok, it's just gone midnight here - all the thunderstorms are gone finally, and it's safe to turn the computer back on and post my final bit for this story. Have a great weekend, all of you. :hug


Epilogue

Dean jumped, his breath caught in his throat, as Sam’s dark velvet eyes sparkled to life and his lungs expanded with a slow, careful breath. Sam searched his big brother’s face; his own eyes welling with tears as awareness flooded back over him. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up and grasped Dean’s arm, holding on to that physical contact as though it were a lifeline anchoring him back to the earth. Dean felt the muscles in Sam’s neck flex with new strength – his head no longer lolling in Dean’s hands like a broken doll. “Dean,” Sam whispered, voice raspy, but alive, so alive.

Green eyes glassy with tears, Dean cradled his resurrected brother to his chest and laid his damp cheek on the top of Sam’s head. Through his thankful sobs he heard the quiet voice of the woman who had come to their rescue. Her voice had an oddly echoing quality, as she stated softly, “The Seer and the Warrior must not be separated.”

Turning his gaze toward the stranger, he frowned and wrapped his arms tighter around his little brother. Sam grasped a double handful of his jacket in response. “The who? Who are you?” Dean demanded, the storm of emotion roughening his voice.

The woman started walking away. As she passed the discarded EMF meter, it suddenly emitted an electronic scream, and every circuit shorted in a spectacular shower of golden sparks. Dean gaped, astonished beyond words. He felt Sam tense, and finally managed to gasp, “What are you?”

The woman in white turned, smiling softly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so why ask? Safer to just say that I’m a friend, and leave it at that.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You can’t just walk out without an explanation. What are you? And where did you get that thing you gave me? What was it? What the hell happened?”

“The splinter? It was just what I told you – a genuine piece of the cross of Christ. It came from the base of the cross, and was soaked in His blood. It was the blood of Christ that helped you destroy the demon. And the ritual I spoke was Aramaic. It helped you bind the demon so you could kill it.”

“You gotta be kidding me! That was really – I mean – how did you know all that? Who in hell are you!”

The woman spread her hands in a peace gesture. “Who in Heaven am I, to be more precise. As for how I knew, I was told by the one who was crucified on that cross. The same one who gave me the splinter and sent me to you. Who in Heaven am I?” She smiled gently. “Before there was time, I was called Michael.”

Dean was shocked speechless. In his arms, Sam stirred. “What are you?” The younger whispered hoarsely.

“I think you know. Goodbye, young hunters. Stay true to your path. Until we meet again.”

As she walked out into the early morning light, Dean blinked. For a moment, he thought he saw…but no, it must have been his imagination.

He became aware of long fingers pulling at his jacket. “Dean,” came the breathy whisper.

He looked down at his sibling. Sam’s face wore the same stunned expression that was on his own. He pulled his brother close and began rocking him back and forth.

“Shut up, Sammy. Just shut up.” He kept rocking, unsure of who was being comforted most by the motion – his brother, or himself.

* * * * *
‘When the war is over got to get away
Pack my bags to no place in no time, no day
You and I, we used each others shoulder
Still so young but somehow so much older
How can I go home and not get blown away’
(When the War is Over – Cold Chisel)

As Missouri changed the poultice around Sam’s throat for a fresh one, she cast a glance at Dean sitting slumped in the chair by Sam’s bed. Sam didn’t stir under her ministrations, having been ordered by a concerned big brother to take a hefty dose of painkillers and a mild sedative.

The older brother let out a relieved sigh as he saw the swelling and bruising had reduced. Earlier, Sam’s neck had been painted with angry bursts of purple and blue, with the red of blood in places where the skin had abraded. Thanks to Missouri’s herbal remedies, the colour was fading rapidly and within a few days would be just another memory.

The psychic glanced curiously at the old, battered book in Dean’s lap. “A bible? Honey, you been prayin’ over your brother?” She kept her voice soft, non-threatening. She sensed a disturbed swirl of emotions from the sandy haired man. She recalled the frantic look on his face earlier in the day as he’d carried his injured brother through the front door. She also recalled the tracks of tears on his face that he didn’t bother to hide. All his defences had been stripped away this day, and he was still fragile.

Dean looked down. “Research.”

Missouri perched on the arm of the chair. “Research for what?”

“That woman. She told me that before there was time, her name was Michael. Well, I found her. Him. In here.” He tapped the book. “In the Book of Revelations. Chapter 12, verse 7, to be exact.”

“The Archangel Michael? The Protector of Israel? You trying to tell me that’s who that woman was?”

Dean smiled crookedly and began to read. “ ‘And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven.’” He ran a hand over tired eyes. “I may never fully understand what happened today. All I know is, that demon was afraid of her, and that she was on our side – she helped us destroy it. And she completely fried my EMF.” He leaned forward and brushed the back of his hand softly against his brother’s cheek. “And she gave my brother back to me. As for the rest – well, I always wanted to see a real live angel. Never really believed in them until now.”

“What did you see?”

He looked up, and for once, there was no smart-alec grin, no sarcasm – just a quiet, thoughtful gaze. “Just for a moment? I thought I saw a tall glowing figure, all in white, with huge wings, and its face…” He trailed off into silence, remembering.

Missouri leaned forward. “Its face? What about its face?”

“Beautiful. More than beautiful.” His voice dropped to an awed whisper. “Soul-achingly beautiful. Otherworldly. Ethereal.” He looked back at his sleeping sibling. “And I felt such a peace – I’ve never felt that before. Ever.”

She patted his shoulder. “I hope you feel it again, honey. You get some sleep now. I’ll watch over Sam.”

“No, I’ll stay here. I’m not leaving him.” Dean shifted his chair closer to the bed.

“Okay. I’ll get you some hot tea.”

Dean grinned, eyes dancing. “Not your special blend, I hope.”

Twenty minutes later, Missouri discovered she didn’t need her special brew. Setting the tray down near the door, she tiptoed softly across to the bed. Sam lay on his back as before, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, one arm resting across his stomach. Beside him, Dean sat forward, long legs curled under the chair, one hand pillowed beneath his cheek and the other resting on Sam’s shoulder. Their heads shared the pillow, fair and dark. In the soft light of the lamp their faces looked so young and at peace. ‘Like sleeping angels,’ she thought as she carefully draped a blanket around Dean’s shoulders and back. Dean’s fingers twitched, tightening their hold for a second. Sam’s head rolled, coming to rest with his cheek against the top of his brother’s head. Neither woke.

Missouri stood over the young men, clasped her hands. “Jesus,” she whispered, “Send your angels to watch over these boys.”

She crept out, turning out the light as she went.

Sam slowly drifted into wakefulness, savouring the feel of just being alive and relatively unharmed. The warm poultices had done their work, and the pain had eased tremendously. He became aware of a familiar touch on his shoulder, and something soft tickled his cheek. Turning his head slightly, he discovered his sleeping brother, and smiled contentedly. Nestling his cheek back against Dean’s head, he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Vacation sounds good, bro.” He whispered before drifting back to sleep.

Dean moved slightly, briefly tightening his grip on Sam’s shoulder before settling once again. He mumbled softly, “You got that right.”

The Seer and the Warrior slept, dreamed, healed. Together.

The nondescript man stood unseen and undetected by the head of the bed. He smiled proudly at his new charges, stretched his arms protectively over the sleeping hunters, and raised his eyes toward Heaven. There was a faint rustle of wings.

End.

wow that was good
as for the Demon
you should write for the Demon in the show lol :lol: :lol: :lol:
you did that very well

I really enjoyed this story...alhtough it was a bit short *hint...get off your behind and write another! :P*

I like the way you referenced the angels...I have found it hard to do sections that I write with them...and I really like the way you captured it...and nice twist with Micheal...although since angels would be "beings" they technically are spirits that aren't bound by silly things like gender, lol

I have a Micheal in my piece...a guy ;) But I use the old Hebrew version of the name: Mika'el....

I hope you decide to write more...I really liked this and you write very well.
Kat

AWWWWWW!!! :cry That was such a good story. :cry I'm glad i trusted you with Sam. :D You kept him safe. :cloud9 I can't beleive it's over. Well that was a great and intense story to read. :o :lol: So are you writing any more any time soon? :halo

Wow!The last two chapters blew me away, beautiful and so poignant.
Amazing story, love your writing mizpah and I hope you'll write more stories, I'll look forward for them :)

Wow...cant wait for your next story..this was really great and i could see it all in my head.

Keep it up.

:cheer :cheer :cheer
Wow!!!
That was even better than the first version I read. Glad I convinced you to post it. Onward and upward for you girl!!!!!!!! :D :D
Dont worry all, I will be making sure Mizpah does post more......or I will hound her.

You rock shazo lol.

Thank you, all - you've encouraged me to have another go.

Kat - don't you mean get back ON my backside and write more? Sorry - couldn't resist the opening there.

I am actually tinkering with a funny one at the moment - I haven't got a beginning written down yet - it's all still coming together in my head. I've been watching Hell House again, and thought, why not...

There's a little Dean torture - but he doesn't get hurt - well, only his pride...

Here's a tiny slice from somewhere in the second act:

“Uh, Dean?”

“What!”

He turned, annoyed. Sam was pointing to the front of the car, where a wisp of white could be seen hovering around the grille. As the brothers watched, the vaporous cloud twisted and darted through into the engine bay.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Dean lunged for his baby as the engine roared. The big car rocketed across the car park in full reverse, its distressed owner in barefoot pursuit.

Gears flicked, and the Chevy shot towards the road, tyres screaming. Sam’s mouth dropped open as his brother’s pride and joy went careening down the highway under its own volition, doing about 80mph. He turned his startled gaze to where his brother stood in the middle of the motel car park, in his underwear, hands stretched out imploringly as his car disappeared from sight.

It's called Car Trouble, and it won't be ready for posting for a little while - maybe a week or two. And Shaz can't bug me this week 'cause she's got some long hours coming up at work! :fire

Look out for it in the humour section.

Jul

Sounds good i'll be looking for it! :D

OMG...DEAN IN HIS UNDERWEAR...CHASING HIS CAR!!!!

I can't wait...omg...bwahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I agree with Kris....Dean in underwear chasing a possessed car :lol: :drool2

I would love to read this ;)

I'm looking forward for your next story mizpah :D
Picturing Dean in only his underwear chasing after his beloved impala, yummy :)

Yes!!!! The rest of your story was great. I can't wait for the next story.* Giggles* Dean in his underwear should be great. Plus we don't get enough of half naked Dean. But I'm not complaining cuz I LOVE Sam.

Ally

Oh, I'm so glad you told me about this story in your other one! Loved this! Just inhaled it all. Sorry I missed it the first time, I have at least twenty stories on alert here and at least as many on another site so I usually only find time to look for new ones once I'm caught up with everything else :)

They beat the demon, and Dean saw an angel! That is cool :) And actually I do believe that they exist. Anyway, very nice job, and hope you can find your music piece so you can update the Car Trouble story in the horror/ghost section. Have to run to work, but good job and waiting for an update on the other one :D

Now caught up with your first story Mizpah, I always seem to do things in the wrong order!!! But at least I get there in the end! :lol:

Just one word for it, awesome, love the way you write, you get their characters so well, and though we don't often see an emotional Dean, what you wrote was so true to character and totally believable. Glad you included Missouri, she is one of my fave OC's. And Sammy you could feel all he was going through!!!

Just keep writing stories yours are so good! :)

Sarah

Really enjoyed this story Jules it was really well written. I could easily picture the emotions the two boys were going through...and the part where the demon snapped Sam's neck...that part was heartbreaking! It was still amazing though and I'm glad that Michael decided...well knew that they couldn't be seperated. They won't survive without each other. I'm glad that Missouri was there for them too...they really needed somewhere they could recuperate after that hunt...and someone they could trust to help them with that. And I have to tell you the whole sliver of the cross thing...that was neat I liked that. Great story!

I'm new and slowly catching up with completed fics-- I hope you see this post because I thought this story was just achingly brilliant and beautiful. Have you written more and are they posted somewhere?

Wow!! This was your first fic??! It's fantastic!!! :clap I knew I could trust you with my boy so I could just sit back and enjoy the Hurt!Sam knowing he'd be okay in the end. :wub: :D

Loved Missouri too and loved the bit where the angel said that they should never be separated. It's so true. :wub:

Now on to the next one. :D