Title: Ownership is Everything
jj'sgirl - February 12, 2009 05:33 AM (GMT)
Hi all, here you go. I hope you all like this one. It’s my very first actual AU fic. Although, honestly, it’s only AU because it’s an old story, set at the end of season three that I never finished and never bothered to post. It picks up where season three leaves off. Hope you all enjoy. Hugs and happy hunky Winchester thoughts.
Ownership is Everything
Sam knelt, both his heart and his brother’s blood on his sleeve, tears pouring from his eyes on their own accord. He gently rocked his brother back and forth in his arms, silently letting his tears mix with his brother’s blood in the carpet below.
It wasn’t the first time that he’d held his brother often bruised, sometimes bloody, body in his arms.
Sometimes from a fight gone wrong or sometimes just from his dumbass brother thinking himself invincible and going up against ten bikers in some chickenshit town cause he was too much a jerk to voice his emotions in any other way.
So, no. It was far from the first time that he’d held his brother in his arms this way. But this time...
Sam Winchester swallowed hard as he knelt there on the surprisingly cold carpeted flood, letting his emotions wash over him. And one by one fleeting memories came rushing back to him.
And he felt a choked sob well in his throat.
Cause this time was simply...different.
“...said, I’m fine,” he snapped peevishly.
“You don’t wanna talk, Sam countered, using his own height to bully his brother toward the closest bed. “Fine...but I’ve still got to dress those wounds.”
“Don’t you think that you’ve done enough already.”
The younger brother recoiled as if he’d been physically slapped. He knew it was just pain and raw hurt that had Dean hurling such hateful words at him. Knew he deserved it too.
But that didn’t make it any less painful.
“Just cause I’m a bitch doesn’t mean that I want you to bleed to death,” he said, voice dropping huskily from shame. “You can be pissed at me all you want to. Hell, we both know I deserved it. I shot you for crying out loud. And I...”
“Wasn’t you, Sam,” the elder of the pair said, sounding suddenly tired. “Hafta tell you again and I’m gonna seriously kick your...” A pause. “Hey,” his whiskey and pain addled brain suddenly coming to a halt. “The hell’d you trick me into talking about this?”
“Talk or lie down and let me look at your chest...your choice,” Sam said smugly, hiding his hurt, knowing there were more important things at hand.
“Don’t I at least get dinner and a movie first,” Dean pouted, but begrudgingly moved toward the bed, unbuttoning his flannel as he went. “Just make it fast, okay?” he said at last. “So we can put this whole damn night...whole damn case in the rearview.”
The younger brother nodded silently, barely stifling a horrified gasp as his brother’s bare chest met his line of sight for the first time.
The multiple shards of rock salt hadn’t cut deep. But deep enough to hurt like a real bitch, he supposed, leaving bloody trails cascading down Dean’s chest in their wake. His whole chest looked a little like it had just had a close encounter with a damn meat grinder and had barely avoided getting sucked all the way through it.
“Shut it, Sam,” he growled, pointedly not looking him in the eye. “Talking or doctoring,” he said. “My choice, remember. I chose doctoring...so get your ass over here ‘fore I go find some cute little nurse to do it for me.”
Sam nodded once more, picking up the tweezers and motioning for him to lie flat. Sitting down next to him, he swallowed hard. “Gonna hurt like a bitch,” he said, voice sounding hollow to his own ears. Specially the alcohol and holy water mix that would come after the offending minerals were all removed.
Dean finally met his gaze and held it for a long moment. And the youngest Winchester could sense a forgiveness there...forgiveness that he knew he didn’t deserve, but was there nonetheless.
“Just get it over with, Sammy,” he said softly. “Please.”
Dean looked up form his current task of trying to get his hand up that hot little nurse’s skirt and smiled at his brother. “This place is awesome,” he said, grinning lopsidedly.
“That’s just the meds talking, dude,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics.
The nurse caught his eye as she excused herself from the room, hiding her own smile behind her hand.
“Well,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Them’s good drugs.”
Sam snorted. Despite the fact that they were in crap up to their eyeballs, a medicated Dean was still an amusing sight. “How are ya doing,” he asked, giving his brother a concerned glance.
“S’all good,” the elder man replied, giving him a thumbs up.
“Okay,” Sam said. “We need to get you out of here…can you walk?”
But Dean was more interested in blowing raspberries than actually answering any questions.
“Dean,” he said, rather sharply, causing his brother to begin to pout.
“You’re grumpy,” Dean said, jabbing his finger accusingly in his brother’s general direction.
“Mr. Grumpy Pants,” he cooed, breaking into a random song. “Mr. Sammy wammy grumpy wumpy pants.” And then he began to giggle uncontrollably at his own joke.
“Dean,” Sam said sharply. “Focus, dude. I need to know…can you walk?” he asked in exaggerated slowness.
Dean looked at him, thinking very hard about the question. He scrunched up his nose in contemplation, finally coming up with the brilliant, “I don’t like lime jello…looks like boogers.”
Sam sighed. “Okay, wheelchair it is.”
“...possibly be more of a baby about this,” Sam said, groaning audibly. “It’s dislocated...not amputated.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll live.”
“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Dean growled. Then a pout covered his features once more. “Come on,” he whined. “It hurts.”
“It’s gonna when you act like a dumb ass,” the fifteen year old said.
“Know what,” he said, wrenching himself to his feet. “Screw you,” he said. “I’ll just get somebody else to...”
“Somebody else’s gonna narc on you to dad,” Sam pointed out smugly. “And I’m sure dad’d just love to know how you got the crap beat out of you in a bar that you’re not only too young to be in, let alone one that you were expressly forbidden to enter again.” he grinned, arms crossed. “But, by all means...tell him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to fix it for ya, right after blistering your ass for defying his orders.”
“Son of a...” Dean muttered, knowing his brother was right. “Okay,” he muttered finally, standing and crossing toward the closest wall. “Just get it over with, okay?
The younger brother nodded, assuming the position, lifting his brother’s arm securely. “Deep breath,” he ordered. “Cause this is gonna hurt like a real...”
But before finishing the sentence, Dean cried out in pain as his arm was relocated once more. Sagging backward, he allowed the younger brother to hold him up for a moment.
Sam, never speaking, simply held him tight, as his brother attempted to get back the breath he’d stolen from him.
After a long moment, Dean whispered a somewhat breathless, “Bitch.”
And the younger Winchester wasn’t sure if it was simply the finishing of a sentence or directed at him. But either way, he laughed. “Come on,” he said. “Dad’ll be home soon...better get you cleaned up ‘for he gets here or he’ll be kicking both our asses.”
Half carrying, half dragging his brother out of the car, he, himself, limped through the long deserted parking lot toward their room. Dean’s head lulled onto his shoulder one more, the still bleeding cut dripping a bit of blood onto the younger man’s already soiled clothes.
“Come on, buddy,” he muttered. “You’re okay...just hold on a few more steps.”
A nonsensical moan escaped his brother’s lips.
“It’s gonna be okay, Dean,” Sam said tiredly, wincing more with each step. “Almost there, I promise.”
“Wha...happen?” the elder managed, not quite able to pull his head upright.
“Casper,” came the reply as Sam tried to balance them both upright while at the same time unlocking the door to their refuge. “Not so friendly as bitchy. Threw you over the banister.”
Another moan as they once again began moving, heading deep into the room. “Okay,” he said softly. “Come on, here we go...let’s get you taken care of.”
“You okay, Smm...mee,” Dean slurred.
“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam said, feeling no guilt at the lie as he eased his brother down onto the bed. A glance down at his own busted up leg, caused him to grimace, then he got back to business. Brushing a hand over his brother’s body, he began to assess the damage. “Nasty gash here,” he said, looking at the wound just over his right temple. “Gonna need a couple a stitches, at least.”
No, it was far from the first time that he’d held his brother in his arms this way. But this time was different. This time was...
Another sob escaped his lips.
There was no band-aid for Hell. No band-aid for his broken heart, either. And it didn’t look like either Winchester brother was gonna be healed anytime soon.
“I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whimpered, his head still buried in his big brother’s crimson stained shirt, as his entire world crashed down around him.
ilaria - February 12, 2009 02:28 PM (GMT)
amazing start dear,i can't wait for more ;)
becs - February 13, 2009 11:20 PM (GMT)
cool start.will be interested to see where this story will take us.
jj'sgirl - February 14, 2009 03:16 AM (GMT)
hi all, here you all go. Hope you all enjoy. Hugs, JJ.
His brother was dead.
Dean was dead.
His big brother...his entire world...was gone.
Dean was gone.
This was Dean.
This was his big brother. This was the man that read him stories at bedtime. Got rid of the monsters in his closet, real or otherwise. Taught him to ride a bike…and then put Band-Aids on his bloodied knees when he fell off said bicycle.
Gave him the birds and the bees talk. Gave him his first condom…and then told him that he would kick his ass if he used it, because he was too young…but then told him if he did anything to be safe and use it and that they’d deal with said ass kicking later.
The brother who gave him his first beer at the tender of age of fifteen…and then held his puking head over the toilet that night…and then somehow convinced their father not to tan his hide when he found out that his youngest had been drinking.
The brother who he sparred with, who beat him at poker, and who occasionally kicked his ass.
The brother...even less occasionally...whose ass he kicked himself and who then almost always returned the favor. The brother he got pissed at. The brother who infuriated the hell out of him, more often than not.
The brother who he hunted with. The brother who had saved his life more times than he could count. The brother he loved. The brother that he knew, despite his refusal to admit it until the last possible second because he was a stubborn jerk, loved him too.
This was Dean.
The young man lifted his hand and gently thumbed away the blood stained tears streaks on his brother’s cheek, even as more of his own slipped downward. And his breath hitched as he then ran his own hand through the short stubbly hair.
“I’m...” he began, but wasn’t even able to get out the ‘sorry’ before he broke down in broken sobs once more.
Sam buried his head into his brother’s chest once more...something that he’d done more times than he could count over the years, seeking comfort in his big brother’s protective and warm arms.
Though, the cold, bloodied, stillness he found now offered more heartache than solace for the weeping young hunter. But still he stayed there, his head buried in the crimson stain that was his brother’s abused chest.
He didn’t know how long that he sat like that, simply clutching his brother’s rapidly chilling body to his chest as if Dean were a life raft and he a drowning man...which, given their lifestyle and relationship that they’d developed over the years, was a rather apt metaphor.
And now his raft was gone and he was sinking alone into a pool of swirling churning emotion that threatened to drown him from the inside out.
Then suddenly his keenly trained hunter senses alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone with his brother. “Not now, Bobby,” he whispered brokenly, blatantly hating the intrusion to his private grief. “I just...please.”
But the elder man’s voice never reached his years as shadow fell atop him.
Sam lifted his eyes, red and puffy from the exertion of his tears, only to see a ghost of a memory standing before him. “D...dad?” he said, voice cracking brokenly on the simple word.
“Hey, Sammy boy,” John said softly...the words sounding startlingly loud as his body flickered once before solidifying in the otherwise suddenly eerily silent room.
“Dean’s...he...” The young hunter felt another tear slip from his eye as he dropped his gaze to the body still clutched protectively in his arms. “I couldn’t...I just...I wasn’t strong enough, dad,” he whispered, breaking down once more. “I couldn’t save him. I tried so hard,” he sobbed. “And I just...couldn’t.”
“I know, baby,” the father interrupted gently as he stooped down next to the boy, pain in his eyes over not being abl e to reach out to comfort him...not knowing the words, not sure he could have uttered them even if he had. “That’s why I’m here.”
Sam lifted his head again, hope shining in his hazel depths for the first time since midnight. “You mean you can...” he began breathlessly.
John sighed once more at the look on the boy’s face. Sam hadn’t looked at him like that since the kid was six-years-old and still thought that his daddy hung the moon...back when he thought the only dragons he had slain were the ones in that damn bedtime story that he insisted upon every night.
Sadly the elder man shook his head. “No, kiddo,” he said, shaking his head sadly, wishing it were otherwise. “I can’t. That one’s against the rules.”
Sam sniffed. “You never were real big on following the rules before,” he said, the mild accusation too tinged were pain to have any real bite behind it.
“You’re right about that, kiddo,” he said, nodding once tersely. After all, he was breaking all kinds of rules just by appearing here. “But that is one rule that even your old man can’t break,” he said, his hand reaching out as if to ruffle his son’s long locks, catching himself just in time.
God, he’d a given anything to pull his youngest into his arms and take away his unsurmountable pain. But he knew that he couldn’t. Just wasn’t possible, no matter how much the very core of his being ached to do just that.
“Then why now, dad?” the young hunter said, gaze once more dropping to Dean, as his fingers snuck out and gently swiped a little more of the blood from his brother’s face. “Cause no offense or anything, but this is a pretty crappy time for a family reunion, here, dad.”
And John knew that the boy missed his soft smile at the words...so much like the moody teenager that he’d known growing up...as he was once again staring at his brother’s body. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt a sudden pang...a calling of sorts...and knew he’d been found out.
“I can’t save your brother, son...but you can.”
Sam looked up hesitantly, swiping at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, reminding his father of an exceptionally tall six-year-old. “What Ruby said,” he said softly, biting his lip. “Dean’d kick my ass if I...”
“Sammy boy, even I’d kick your ass if you did that,” John informed him firmly, an affectionate smile playing on his lips that took away any bite from his words...his kid was nothing if not predictable, after all.
“Then what are you...”
The father felt himself flicker out once again and knew that his time was growing short. “Listen to me, son,” he said earnestly. “There’s not much time to explain so you’re just going to have to trust me here,” he ordered gruffly, praying to a God that he hadn’t believed in again until very recently that the boy didn’t fight him on this one just then.
He flickered once more, looking like a soon to be extinguished candle.
“Remember, Sammy,” he said. “Remember the night before you left for Stanford and that will...”
Sam watched as his father disappeared then, leaving him alone once more with his grief.
trickie - February 14, 2009 03:29 AM (GMT)
Nice start, can't wait to see where this leads.
I wonder how Sam can get Dean back?
jj'sgirl - February 16, 2009 05:29 AM (GMT)
hi all, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy. Hugs, JJ.
The young hunter bristled angrily at the implication of his father’s words, disbelief that the older man would dare bring up that night, now of all times, clearly displayed on his face.
But for once in his young life...maybe just because his father had disappeared and he had no one left to argue with. But, for whatever the reason, he simply did as he’d been instructed...and simply remembered...remembered that painful night from so long ago.
Remembered the night, which he knew now, that he’d been running toward ‘normal’ and away from everything that really mattered. Because he knew now, that normal was great, but not at the expense of family...but, staring down at his brother’s body, he knew that little piece of knowledge was simply too little too late.
And feeling a sob welling in his chest once more, Sam buried his face into his brother chest...feeling the elder man’s warmth quickly slipping away...and simply remembered.
The youngest and eldest Winchester were standing there practically at each other’s throats...which left the middle one to, as usual, play peacekeeper.
“I’m going, dad,” Sam growled, taking his life into his hands as he jabbed his finger into his father’s chest brazenly. “And you can’t stop me.”
“No you’re not, Sam,” John said, teeth clenched as he tried hard not to snap.
And he knew that this was going to end badly if they couldn’t keep their tempers in check...something that he knew all too well that both he and his father had a real problem with.
“This family needs you. I need you.”
“You’ve never needed me,” the young hunter argued, lashing out angrily and striking at the heart of the one person closest to him. “Not when you’ve got the perfect son here to blindly follow your orders like a good little kicked puppy.”
“Hey!” Dean snapped. “Screw you, buddy. Leave me the hell out of this. Don’t bitch at me just cause you’ve got your panties in a twist all of a sudden.”
“That’s right,” John said. “Leave your brother out of this,” the father ordered. “This isn’t about him. This is about you...and when you decided that you were too good for this family.”
“Don’t fool yourself, old man,” Sam said coldly. “It’s not about me. It should be about me. A full ride, dad,” he said. “A damn full ride to Stanford. But it’s not about me. Anybody else’s parents would be thrilled by that...would be throwing me a damn party. And normal family would have been proud of their son.”
“You’re not normal, Sam,” he said. “You’ve just got to...”
“No kidding, sir,” he said sarcastically. “As if the weapons training and the nomadic lifestyle didn’t tell me that...but thanks for clarifying.”
“Lose the attitude...before I lose it for you,” John said darkly.
“Screw you,” Sam said angrily. “Anybody else would have been proud of me. I did something good. But not you. No,” he growled. “Because it’s never been about me...it’s always been about you. You and this damn pointless need for revenge.”
“Sammy...” Dean pleaded. “...don’t do this.”
“She was your mother too, kid,” John said eyes blazing. “That means something to me...and it should to you too.”
“She’d dead, dad,” Sam said coldly, hearing his brother’s sharp intake of breath at his callous words. And he knew that he was being a son of a bitch and simply couldn’t keep the words from tumbling from his lips. “And nothing you are ever going to do is going to change that.”
And everyone in the room knew that that was the precise moment that the youngest in the group went too damn far.
“Sam, come on man,” Dean said, a hard line in his own jaw, as he gave his brother a small shove backward. “Don’t talk about her like that...stop acting like an ungrateful brat.”
“Ungrateful?” Sam said, spinning on his brother, no small amount of bitter irony lacing his words, as he pushed back with what was probably more force than necessary. “Ungrateful? Exactly what in the hell do I have to be grateful for? Huh? Tips for running from the law or maybe all the blood...”
“You wanna leave,” the eldest of the trio said coldly. “Fine,” he said, taking out his wallet and handing his son a handful of bills. “Here’s bus fare,” he said. “But, son,” he said, eyes revealing a harshness that neither of his son’s had ever seen. “Mark my words...you walk out that door...don’t bother ever coming back. You won’t be welcome.”
“Dad,” the elder brother gasped. “You don’t mean that.”
“Sure he does, Dean,” Sam said, meeting his brother’s gaze for a long moment, his own eyes shining.
He nodded once, before swallowing hard...willing his brother to remember what they’d spoken of the night before...his eyes turning cold and distant as his gaze turned back to his furious father.
“I don’t know why you sound so surprised...hell,” he said, still sneering. “He’s never given a damn about me...not about either of us...not if it didn’t involve a hunt. He’s probably glad to get rid of me.”
Dean looked to his father for his to deny it, but the elder man remained stubbornly silent.
And without further warning, the youngest Winchester crumpled the money into a ball and threw it on the floor, grabbed his duffle, and headed for the door. “I don’t need your money, dad,” he said. “Fact, I don’t need anything from you.”
“Sam...” the elder brother called out. “Come on, man...wait...”
“Sorry, Dean,” Sam said softly. “But you heard the man...I’m not wanted here.” He looked back at his father once more. “Have fun with your good little soldier.” And with that, the youngest Winchester was out the door, leaving a startled father and a pained brother in his wake.
Sam swallowed hard, feeling badly about the way he’d acted, even now. He still thought that he’d been right at the time to strike out on his own, but the way he’d gone about it was about as ass backwards as he could have gone.
And he remembered that he’d managed to go almost the five whole blocks away that was the bus station before he broke down that night too.
“You sure did sound pissed at me that night,” he said, sniffling softly...brushing a hand over his brother’s cheek...a sad smile tinting his lips. “Thought you were gonna flatten me when I said that about mom, you know.” He swiped at his eyes once more. “Wasn’t sure what was gonna bug out further, your eyes or the vein in dad’s forehead. You know, the one that appeared every time one of us pissed him off for something or other.”
As he thought about his brother and the time he’d lost at college following his own selfish needs he felt a pang in his heart at how stupid he’d been.
“God, I really screwed up this time, Dean,” he said quietly. “I really tried...tried so hard to find a way to save you. I swear I did.”
Sam licked his lips. “I just...”
Then he froze, the words dying on his lips as he thought about what his father had told him. Not the night he left for Stanford...the night before he left for school.
The night before.
The night when he and Dean’d...
No, it wasn’t possible.
Could it possibly be...no, it couldn’t.
“You heard...,” the young hunter said, sitting up with a start, as he suddenly understood. “He heard us that night, Dean,” he said, eyes wide, as a incredulous laugh bubbled frm deep inside, sending his emotions on another spiral. “When we...the...we...well, son of a bitch.”
After all this damn time.
After a tormented year of searching endlessly for any way to break the deal.
Was it really possible that it could be that easy?
Nothing in their lives were ever that easy, and Sam really didn’t believe that the universe would decided to give them a break and not screw them over now.
But he couldn’t help but have just the smallest shiver of doubt fill the very core of his being. It would be beyond dangerous to try, he knew. But he didn’t give a damn, knowing he had to try.
Cause, really...at this point...what did he have to lose.
Not a damn thing, everything that mattered at all was already gone.
trickie - February 16, 2009 03:54 PM (GMT)
Oh, wait. I need to know what happened the night before he left for school. What happened that night that could help save Dean? Why would it be dangerous to try?
Whoa, I hope you hurry back, my head is spinning with questions.
ilaria - February 16, 2009 10:41 PM (GMT)
what happened???? :(
please tell us soon as possible :D
Oceane - February 17, 2009 12:55 AM (GMT)
Wow!What a start, so intense and emotional.
Can't wait to know what Sam remembered about that night and help him to bring back Dean.
jj'sgirl - February 18, 2009 04:54 PM (GMT)
hi all, here you go. Thanks again. Hugs, JJ.
John’s eyes grew misty as he appeared once more in the lonely and forebodings darkness that had been his existence since he’d crawled out of the pit exactly one year to the day before.
One year to the day that his eldest had made that dumbass sacrifice to save his brother. He growled, kid wasn’t dead he probably would a killed him himself for being so damn selflessly stupid.
Or the very least, kicked his ass up one side and down the other, that was for damn sure.
Not that he wasn’t beyond thrilled that his youngest was alive to live another day, because he certainly was. Sammy was alive. But, damn his eldest. He’d never wanted this for his eldest. He knew first hand just what a stint in hell, no matter how short it may be, could do to a person.
And deep down, he was terrified that his son’s little deal had somehow damned both his son’s souls...something he knew that he’d never forgive himself for. It had been he, himself, that had gotten them involved in this life. Look at the result...one son in hell, one other off to do the unthinkable with no one to back him up.
He shivered once, wrapping his muscled arms around himself.
Sure was lonely here, left with only his own grief and bitter memories...wherever here was.
Never had quite figured that one out.
Sure, there was a lot of lore. Limbo, for one. But in all his research, he’d never heard of limbo being so dark and foreboding. Never thought of it being quite so...lonely.
But then again, he’d been wrong before. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thought wryly.
All he knew was that here was...well...here.
And he was here...wherever he was.
An intermediary between Heaven and Hell. Between good and evil. Between life and death. Between peace and pain. That’s where he was.
He knew that his boys both assumed that he was with Mary. And he supposed that it was better that way...better to let them have that hope, than for them to know that alternative.
Because the fact of that matter was that a hell-bound soul just couldn’t get a ticket to the peaceful beyond.
Just wasn’t allowed.
Hell wanted him, but he’d foiled that plan. And Heaven wasn’t sure they wanted him, not that he could blame him.
But then again, let’s face it. With some of the things that he’d done in his life...both in his stint in the Marines and with the boys growing up...some of the decisions he’d made, there’d been little chance of him having a first class ticket upstairs anyway.
And sure, the grieving father knew that he’d most likely get there eventually...probably a lot faster if he’d quit pissing off the one in charge, he thought ruefully, a ghost of a wry smile playing on his lips for a long moment before disappearing once more.
Sure was lonely here, he thought, though. Uncomfortable lonely. And that was saying something, for a usually solitary creature like himself.
He squared his shoulders, knowing that he might as well face fact. He was gonna be stuck here for a long long time and there wasn’t anything that he could do about it...save for trying desperately not to become the very thing he hated.
He’d made his bed when he’d made that deal to save Dean and, now he simply had to lie in it...for however long it took.
Probably longer than before, John guessed, if his little stunt today was any indication. But he gave seriously less than a damn about that.
He couldn’t bare to see either of his boys suffering like that. And would damn well do anything to make sure they didn’t...even sticking himself in ‘here’ for however long it took.
Not his eldest...because the boy didn’t deserve that...didn’t deserve hell. And honestly, hell didn’t deserve him. Dean was just too good for that.
But what had really gotten to him was his youngest.
Seeing Sammy weeping so brokenly, looking so completely lost, had shattered the last tiny piece of the father’s still intact heart.
And he’d know right then and there, after seeing the look on his baby’s face that come ‘hell,’ ‘highwater,’ or ‘here,’ there was going to be nothing stopping him from trying to fix it.
All the kid had to do was remember.
All he could do was pray that the boy got the message...that his son understood. That he, himself, hadn’t flickered out too soon.
Because he was too weak now to appear again.
All the energy that he’d been storing up since the gates opened had been spent on that one brief appearance to his son, and after it all, he wasn’t sure that it had been even enough. He wasn’t sure how much his boy had heard...how much the kid even remembered, too lost in his own grief to care about a few sparse words of comfort from the old man that growing up he’d hated more often than not.
But he was too weak...too un-living...to be of any assistance now. It was up to the boy now.
He could do it too, his father was sure of it. If anybody could work it out, his youngest could handle the mental gymnastics that the situation required...that damndable annoying little lawyer brain of his...the one that had pissed him off to no end when the kid’s been growing up...aught to be good for something.
His youngest could damn well do anything that he put his mind too.
Sam’d just been too preoccupied over the last twelve months about finding a way to break the deal to realize that he already had the answer, that was all.
And it was the father’s desperate hope that now, as the boy floundered in grief, his gentle reminder would be enough to spark the memory...the secret moment of brotherly bonding that John had overheard as he passed by in the hallway that had the ability to chang everything.
If only the kid understood what he’d tried to tell him.
He shivered once more.
Sure was cold here.
Really, really lonely.
“Please figure it out, Sammy,” he whispered quietly, voice echoing back to him slightly in the darkness. “Please, please figure it out.”
“I’m sure he will,” a soft voice said from behind him, startling the grieving father.
And every ounce of his being froze at the sound of that all too familiar voice. It was the sound from the past. The sound of a memory long since gone. It was the voice of an angel. A voice that he’d been certain he’d never hear again.
He slowly spun on the figure, the area seeming to light up from the very presence of the new arrival.
“After all,” she continued. “He always was pretty smart, that boy of ours.”
And John Winchester was only able to get out a strangled, “Mary?” before the normally stoic man’s eyes overflowed.
“I don’t know what the hell that brother a yours has got up his sleeve, kid,” Bobby said, gently hoisting the young man’s lifeless body into his arms. “But I can only hope...”
He paused, feeling sick over it all that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. “...I hope to hell he’s not about to do something stupid.” And at the same time, was all but certain that was exactly what the kid was about to do.
Struggling to retain his footing, the grizzled elder hunter slowly began the trek out to his truck.
“Come on, kiddo,” he whispered gently. “Let’s get you back home to the junkyard.”
“You did good, John,” she said softly, reaching up to wipe the tears from his face. “You did real good.”
“But was it enough?” he asked. “Did he truly understand?”
Mary shrugged softly. “Only time will tell...but you’ve given them both a chance now,” she said honestly. “And that’s all that we can hope for now.”
Mere moments after making the connection in his mind, Sam Winchester found himself heading down the highway at breakneck speed...heading for Palo Alto. More importantly, heading toward that little storage unit that he’d gotten his first semester there.
He’d left his brother’s mangled body in the care of Bobby...with the express instructions that should the elder man salt and burn his body before he got back that he’d damn well do the same to him when he got a hold of him.
Cause...damn. Was it really possible? And if it was...was it already too late?”
“Don’t worry, Dean,” he muttered into the darkness, only slightly illuminated by the headlights shining ahead. “I’m gonna bring you home, I swear...I’ll do it, or die trying.”
becs - February 18, 2009 05:32 PM (GMT)
:o but what is sam going to do?????? please dont let him die trying.
i had to read all 3 chapters at once which isn't a bad thing as i could avoid the cliffhangers but this is cool
trickie - February 18, 2009 07:02 PM (GMT)
Hmm...I have a slight suspicion here, but I'll keep it to myself for now. :rolleyes:
The description of where John was made me think of a poem I wrote years ago for school. It was called Heaven, Nowhere and Hell. And the 'here' you depicted was exactly the Nowhere I had envisioned. :lol: Kinda cool.
Now, Bobby had better not salt and burn Dean, cause I'm doubtful Sam would give Bobby the luxury of being dead when he returned the favour. :blink:
So what does he have stashed in storage? Very interesting,
ilaria - February 18, 2009 07:56 PM (GMT)
I really have no idea what it could have happen,please don't leave us like this :D
jj'sgirl - February 23, 2009 09:27 PM (GMT)
hi all, here you go. Hope you all enjoy. hugs and happy hunky Winchester thoughts. JJ
“You sure this is gonna work, kid?” Bobby asked, taking off his ball cap with one hand and running his hand through his short hair with the other.
“It’s got to,” Sam said.
“That ain’t what I asked,” the elder man said, eyeing his young charge carefully.
“I know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s going to work. It has to work.”
Bobby wasn’t quite so sure. “You really think summoning that little bitch here is a good idea?”
They’d found the summoning ritual about a week before Dean had died, but hadn’t figured out exactly how that would help.
Finally they’d decided to save the spell in case they needed it later...figuring that if they summoned her and killed her, and Dean’s deal still held true that they were gonna be crap out a luck. But if they waited, maybe...just maybe...they could bargain later on should the need arise.
“Okay,” he said. “Answer me this...” he said, flicking his gaze toward where Dean’s body lay on the couch. “He’s gonna kick my ass for this, right, assuming this works, I mean.” Which he had serious doubts about.
“Honestly,” Sam said. “Probably...but I’ve got to try anyway.”
Bobby frowned, wanting to smack the stubborn brat upside the head. “Okay, kid,” he said. “Let’s do this then...and I pray to God that you’re right.”
The young hunter looked at his brother for a long moment, clutching the tiny white paper in his hand. “Me too, Bobby,” he whispered softly. “Me too.”
The elder man cocked his eyebrow at him ruefully. “Good,” he said. “Cause, kid...you pull some dumbass stunt here and get killed...I’m gonna find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself. Clear?”
“Crystal, sir,” Sam said, a terse grin on his face as he nodded at the man that he’d come to consider like family. “Let’s do this.” And with that he stepped toward him, knife in hand.
Bobby paused a moment. “This may not work, son,” he cautioned. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“I’m not,” he said.
And the elder hunter nodded, though clearly seeing through the lie...they’d both already got their hopes up and were most certainly about to be heart-wrenchingly disappointed.
“I’m gonna regret agreeing to this, ain’t I, kid?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam agreed. A pause, then a quieter, almost ashamed, “Sorry, Bobby.”
“Whatever,” The elder man growled, pulling down the collar of his shirt...he tried to sound nonchalant, but hell, it was his chest that the kid was coming after. “Just get it over with already.”
Sam bit his bottom lip as his arm jutted out and he rested the silver tip against the elder man’s skin. He knew what needed done, but God help him, wasn’t sure he could do it.
“Damn it, Sam,” he snapped. “Get it the hell over with, already.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, voice shaking as he forced himself to steady his hand. And, taking a deep breath, he sliced it across Bobby’s chest.
He heard the elder man’s breath come out in a ragged gasp, but forced himself to continue...making sure the blade cut deep and fully, knowing if this had any chance of working, the would needed to be large enough.
He hissed, as the blade sliced across his skin.
Son of a bitch, that hurt.
The elder hunter’s fingers clutched into a fist as he felt the damn thing tear into his chest. Forcing his breath to steady, he resisted the urge to back the hell up and held his position, allowing the kid to complete the cut.
He felt the blood slip down his chest as the tattoo just above his heart was sliced open, breaking apart the pentagram that had so-long protected him from possession.
It was damn foolhardy, literally opening himself up to possession like this, but they both damn well knew that the little she-bitch wouldn’t show up unless she was in a body that there was a high probability they wouldn’t kill.
Since Sam really needed to be here to complete this little shenanigan, that left himself.
Yeah, bully for him.
And he was damn sure that he was gonna be regretting agreeing to the kid’s damn fool plan in about two minutes, but he supposed that if it meant the other kid had a shot at coming back in one piece, then he supposed he was game.
The elder man glanced at the kid.
And speaking of Sam...
He was pretty certain that losing his brother like that had finally pushed the bone-weary kid over the edge that he’d been teetering on for so long now. And if this crazy-as-crap plan a his didn’t work, then he wasn’t entirely sure what the obviously distraught boy would do.
Glancing down at his chest, he ran a hand over the wound on his chest...little deeper than he’d imagined the kid would go, if’n the blood still pouring down his gut was any indication...and bit back the curse.
Out loud, at least.
Because just...damn, that hurt like a real bitch.
Bobby ran a weary hand over his face and then nodded. “Okay, kid,” he said, licking his lips as he picked up the book with the needed incantation and began to read...unable to completely quell the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Omnatarae, mi nome al atante...”
And suddenly the room began to shake.
He shot the kid a look out of the corner of his eye. Cause one thing about it, something was happening...though he still wasn’t sure what...or if it was a good thing or not.
“Keep going,” Sam ordered, breathing heavily as he clutched the tiny box to his chest. “Don’t stop now.”
Yeah, easy for you to say, kid, he thought to himself. Cause, it wasn’t his chest that the little spawn of evil was about to be inhabiting.
Damn it to bloody hell, what he wouldn’t do for those two smart-assed insufferable little brats.
The elder hunter shook his head. Damn kid was as nuts as his daddy before him. But, God help him, he secretly hoped like heck that this worked and he simply continued. “De dominarae implano astar di me soltere este...”
The lights began to flicker and the kid met his gaze.
“...altante di me nombre a la stame de atore este, a mi ne...”
“Come on you demonic bastard,” Sam growled, twitching slightly.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Bobby decided. “...a shante di plae Christo,” he finished with Gusto.
It sounded as if an awful wind ripped through the wind, and the elder man felt, for a brief moment, that the chilling wind was tearing apart his insides. The lights flickered off, all the candles instantly extinguishing at precisely the same moment, sending the room into complete darkness.
And yet still the wind howled through tiny abode.
Bobby felt the force of the gust hit him, seeming, almost from the inside out...which, he decided, was most certainly pretty accurate to what was happing to him. For a brief moment, he couldn’t breathe. The darkness of the room was shrouded in a more menacing type of blackness.
And then the grizzled old hunter hit his knees, feeling the evilness engulf him...choke him...defile him in ways that he’d never imagined.
It lasted only a moment and then it was all over, or, maybe technically speaking, it all began.
trickie - February 23, 2009 11:49 PM (GMT)
Holy crap! What the...? Bobby let himself get possessed? Whoa, I hope they know what they're doing, and I hope they have a good plan for getting the demon out.
Did not expect that at all.
Oceane - February 24, 2009 12:51 AM (GMT)
Awww...John and Mary're together.
What a cliffhanger, riveting story, I can't wait to read more.
jj'sgirl - February 27, 2009 05:12 AM (GMT)
hey trace and oceane, if you thought the last cliffy was bad...
Anywho, I hope you all like this update. Let me know what you all think. Hugs and happy thoughts. JJ
Sam clutched the tiny box into one hand, staring into the blackness of the room as the air whipped furiously around him.
Then, suddenly, the candles all re-lit themselves, sending the room into a dizzying display of shadows in the flickering lights.
The young hunter stared at Bobby for a long moment. The elder man had crumpled to his knees, a hand on his throat. A gray cloud filled the small expanse, much like the normal blackness that they’d become so familiar with over the years...and, yet, not.
The almost silvery molecules circled their way around Bobby, as Sam simply watched from across the room, unsure of how to help...unsure if he even wanted to. But before he’d made up his mind into a course of action, it was over and the elder man looked up at him from his place on the floor, an almost childlike grin on his face.
“Hiya, Sammy,” Bobby said, voice soft and giggly as he pulled himself effortlessly to his feet with an ease of movement that he hadn’t had in two decades. And for a moment, his eyes flickered in the same grayish silver smoke that had assaulted his body only moments before. “Been a while, huh?”
“Too long, bitch,” Sam growled, fiercely, trembling from his very core, at having the little demonic she-bitch right in front of him that had done this to his brother.
And it took every once of willpower that his father had drilled into his head for twenty plus years not just to blow the bitch away right then and there.
But, he forced himself to hold his position, knowing that keeping her alive...or undead, or whatever the hell she was...for another day was the only shot his brother had. The only shot Bobby, too, had at the moment.
So he forced himself not send her skanky ass packing.
At least for now.
Day was still young though.
“Now that wasn’t very nice, Sammy,” Lilith purred, the childlike British voice sounding majorly wrong coming from the grown man’s lips. “I came here to play and everything and you’re just being so mean to me.” She shook her head. “Not polite at all.”
“Well, you know what they say?” he asked, his lazy drawl only irritating her further. “Can’t stand the heat better get the hell out of the kitchen...so to speak.”
She frowned, eyes narrowing. “And I really don’t think you want to be mean to me,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You remember what happened the last time somebody was mean to me, dont’cha ya?”
Bloody hysterical...etiquette lessons from a hell spawned little she-bitch wannabe.
That was rich.
“Yeah,” he said simply, clutching the knife tightly in the hand still angled behind his back. “Seems to me that you were sure you were gonna do me in then too...how’d that work out for you, sweetheart?”
She shrugged, but he didn’t fail to note how her hands clenched ever so slightly on Bobby’s hips. “You might a made it out of there in one piece last time we met,” she said, the elder hunter’s lips curling up into a sadistic smile. “Too bad big brother wasn’t as lucky, huh?”
Sam felt the words hit him like a physical blow.
Poor Dean suffering like he is. Mmm. You couldn’t even begin to guess what’s happening to him right now.” Another smile. “Delicious.”
Damn little she bitch, anyway.
He felt bile rise up in the back of his throat and the pain of her simple...truthful...words was nearly enough to send him to his knees. But years of playing this damn game had taught him not to show his hand and he simply shrugged. And a combination of sheer desperation and stubborn Winchester pride kept him on his feet.
“He was weak,” Sam said evenly, never averting his gaze. And it was by sheer willpower alone that his voice didn’t shake in the least. “Desperate. For all his pretense of not caring about anything, idiot let his emotions get to him in the end.” Another shrug. “Stupid, if you ask me.”
Bobby stepped forward, circling around the young hunter like the predator that she was. “You’re right,” Lillith said. “Stupid...but what does that make you? After all, seems to me that you’re just as desperate. Here trying to make the same deal that he did.” Another cruel smile. “Just this time a day late and a dollar...and a brother...short, sweetheart.”
Running a hand through his hair, he took a calming breath. She was right, not that he was plannin on telling her that, mind you. Not if this was gonna work. And here in came the tricky part, he had to let her believe she had him. It was the only way. “Dean’s dead,” he said, eyes narrowing. “And I highly doubt there’s anything that I can do about it.”
“You’re right,” she said, all giggly and childlike once more. “There’s not.”
He nodded, squaring his shoulders. He was strong enough, he reminded himself. He was strong enough to not be killed by her. Another deep breath. Strong enough to let himself be wounded...just enough to let her let her guard down. Strong enough to let her play him like a damn fiddle.
He knew he was strong enough.
Knew he could do it.
Knew that he could...but also knew that it was gonna hurt like a royal bitch.
“Then there’s really no reason for you to still be breathing,” Sam said simply, taking one brief moment to square his shoulders before launching himself at her, knife whipping from behind him and aiming for the elder hunter’s exposed throat.
But, with a flick of her wrist, Sam felt himself go airborne, crashing into the bookcase against the wall and landing in a painful heap of tangled limps and splintered wood.
His vision went blurry for a moment.
“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” she tutted, shaking her head. “You think you’d know better by now. You can not win.”
“It’s Sam,” he muttered, not able to get much force behind the slurred words.
He put up a hand, concentrating with all his might to block her powers, all to no avail.
Lilith chuckled. “You think I didn’t learn from our last little encounter?” she said, waiving her hand once more. “Your pitiful demon blood has no effect on me now.”
And Sam’s last thought as yet another wave of demonic power hit him was, ‘yep, definitely hurts like a bitch,’ before the young hunter’s world faded to black as he succumbed to the darkness clouding his vision.
trickie - February 27, 2009 12:56 PM (GMT)
Oh crap! Did Sam take on more than he can handle? She had learned from their last encounter? Jeesh Sam what the hell did you do?
This is not good, not good at all!! :huh:
Oceane - February 28, 2009 12:19 PM (GMT)
Sam summoned Lilith :o
What's his plan, killing her while she's in Bobby's body by slashing his throat :o
Things didn't go like he thought, what's going to happen next, can't wait to know.
jj'sgirl - March 7, 2009 04:21 AM (GMT)
Hi all, here you all go. Hope you all like this one. Enjoy folks. Hugs, JJ.
He stared down at the boy, though the action was not his own. He couldn’t have averted his gaze if he’d wanted to.
No, it was all her.
And he once more found himself cursing the kid...and himself...for allowing himself to be damn stupid enough to be talked into this damndable foolhardy plan.
A seer, an observer of all that was happening.
And all he could do was stand there with his thumb up his ass and watch.
Nothing but watch.
And it was pissing him the hell off, especially as the kid was not exactly looking up to par at the moment.
“Come on, kid,” he muttered silently, the words echoing in his own mind and no where else “Get up.”
Bobby felt the emotion coursing through his chest as he stared down at Johnny’s youngest. Damn it, he’d never felt so impotent in his life.
“Come on, Sam,” he growled. “Wake your ass up.”
But the boy made no attempt to obey the elder hunter’s silent command.
The thin trickle of blood coming from his nose...showing his failed attempt at using his powers to stop her...the only evidence of his current health issues. Well, other than the whole lying in a broken heap thing, that was.
Other than that, the kid appeared as if he were merely asleep. Simply resting comfortably on the floor as if closing his eyes for a moment of respite.
Bobby felt his body moving toward the slumped figure on the floor.
“Come on, Winchester,” he growled. “Get your ass up off that floor, ‘fore I kick it myself.”
One step, then another.
“Damn it, kid,”Bobby moaned silently, waves of emotion crashing over him. “Don’t let it end like this. Don’t let her win. Not like this. Not without a fight.”
Lilith’s delighted childlike laughter filled the cluttered room.
“I honestly expected better from you, Winchester,” she said, hand on Bobby’s hip. “Got to say, I’m a bit disappointed in the...effort...of your current plan.” Another chuckle. “Or...lack thereof, I guess.”
And still the young hunter lay silent.
Bobby felt his heart shattering just a little more. And as he felt his body cross the small expanse of the room, he allowed his memory to travel back in time to the first time he’ d met the stubborn assed little brat.
He stood on his porch, grinding his jaw in simmering anger, as he watched the classic car pull through the gates. That gorgeous car he didn’t mind seeing...it’s occupants, not so much.
This just sucked out loud. He bloody well hated kids. He’d had enough trouble with his own smart mouth nephews to last him a life time and certainly didn’t need to have some random little pains in the neck running around the junkyard underfoot all damn day making his life a living hell.
Well, okay. He didn’t really hate kids. Little brats pissed him off, yeah. But he didn’t actually hate them. He simply refused to allow himself to care...refused to allow himself to feel...refused to allow himself to be hurt.
And it was bad enough that Murphy had tricked him into meeting this new wet-behind-the-ears hunter…but he was pissed beyond belief that the son of a bitch had failed to mention that he was gonna be dragging two little snot nosed simpering brats along with him.
As he watched John Winchester exit the car, he vowed that next time he saw Jim…Pastor or not…he was so kicking his ass.
He watched warily as they approached. John was an imposing man and he could tell right away that the man could handle himself in this lifestyle. It was something inherent. A person either had it or they didn’t.
And John definitely had it...but he also had those two youngins trailing behind him.
And that was a whole nother can of worms. Because as much as Bobby hated kids, he knew that this was not the life that they should be living.
He stared at the father for a moment...noticing the way that he kept one hand on the elder’s shoulder and somehow seemed to be able to retain eye contact with him while, at the same time, keeping careful watch over the little one...before turning his attention to the boys.
The eight year old glared openly at him, from behind the protection of his father’s legs. The little one was hiding behind his brother, making them look like a short train in descending order of height. He could just make out big scared doe eyes under the unruly mop of hair on the one bringing up the caboose.
Bobby thought about yelling Boo, but figured that the kid’d crap himself right there on his doorstop. And he sure as hell wasn’t cleaning up baby crap.
“You Robert Singer?” the man asked, sticking his hand out.
He momentarily thought about lying and just sending the family along their way…but knew that if he did, he’d had to listen to Jim bitch at him for the next year about his “unchristian attitude.”
A few moments later, Bobby stooped down until he was looking at the older one in the eye. “So you’re Jonathan,” he said after instructing John to take the boys’ coats and hang them in the hall closet.
“Dean…only Jonathan when daddy’s pissed.” Then his eyes widened as he looked around to make sure that his father hadn’t heard.. “Not susposed to say pi…” He clamped a hand over his mouth as if to stop the naughty words from escaping again.
Bobby cleared his throat diplomatically to hide a laugh. “Get Jonathan a lot huh?”
“More often than not,” he said after thinking a moment, causing the older man to smile softly at the very adultness of the words coming from such a small boy’s mouth.
“Yeah, well,” Bobby said. “Not surprising. You’re daddy’s a bit of a son of a bitch,” he said.
“What’s a son of a…”
“A word that’s guaranteed to get you in more trouble than’ pissed’ if you say it in front of your daddy,” he interrupted before the boy could finish that particular phrase as he silently cursed himself for fueling his four letter vocabulary...he so wasn’t equipped to handle kids.
Dean’s eyes widened. “Wow…don’t want that.”
“No, I bet not,” the hunter said seriously, as he bit back a grin. He turned his attention to the littlest one, who was, at that moment, clinging to his big brother’s hand for dear life. “And who are you?”
The little cherubic face peaked out from behind his brother. “Son itch,” he said causing Dean’s eyes to widen and Bobby to wearily run a hand over his face.
“Sammy,” Dean said quickly. “His name’s Sammy.”
“Well, hiya, Sammy,” he said. “My name’s Bobby.”
“Son itch,” Sam said again. “Hi, Misser Obby.”
“$hit,” Bobby muttered.
“Sh...” the small boy began getting him a resounding ‘no’ from both of the room’s occupants. His eyes widened and his lower lip began to tremble, expressing his displeasure at being scolded. And even with the elder man’s lack of interaction with kids, he could tell that a screaming fit was about point two seconds away.
“That’s a bad word,” Bobby tried to explain. “You can’t say that word.”
“Oo said,” he frowned.
“Yeah but...” Hell, the hunter frowned. He was actually arguing with a four year old...and losing, he might add. “But...”
“But, that’s a big boy word,” Dean said, helping him out as he gave his little brother a reassuring hug. “You can’t say that until you get to be a big boy like me.”
“Otay,” Sam said happily as he turned his attention to the many ‘toys’ in the small room.
“And don’t touch,” Bobby warned gently just as John came back into the room. “Stubborn little brat, anyway,” he muttered under his breath. But he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his lips.
The elder hunter couldn’t believe that he’d allowed the kid to talk him into this damn plan. He’d had sighed had he been in control of his own body.
“Sorry, Johnny,” he said, the words echoing softly inside his own head. “Sorry, I couldn’t protect your little ones.”
Lilith grinned sadistically at her prey.
“This ball game’s been fun,” she said. “But, I tire of it.”
“I think it’s time to end this damn game, don’t you, Sammy,” the little demonness said, a giggly laugh escaping her lips.
Cause really, it was all just too easy.
Just like takin candy from the six-month-old little baby while mommy stood burning idly by.
Bobby felt his body take another step forward and then come to a sudden and jarring stop.
He felt a hopelessness like he hadn’t felt since that fateful night his wife had died. And he had a sinking feeling that this night was simply going to be another example of someone he cared about being slain by his own hand.
Suddenly Sam’s eyes snapped open. “For the last time,” he said. “It’s Sam, bitch...and yeah, it’s definitely time we end this damn game.
Time to even the stakes just a bit.
No, he decided firmly, squaring his shoulders. To hell with even stakes. It was time to end this once and for all.
And with that, his eyes lazily traveled to the series of devil’s traps on the ceiling.
All six of them.
Each larger than the last, starting with the smallest in the center and encircled by the next slightly larger.
It wouldn’t hold her forever, that he knew. Hell, he’d made that mistake once before.
But it should take even her a bit to crack her way though all of them as they way they were drawn would keep building on each other’s powers. And it should be enough to buy him a little bit of time.
Or so he hoped anyway.
And suddenly Bobby began to laugh. Cause as he felt the anger course through the little demon bitch, he knew it was a whole new ball game.
“That’s my boy,” he said, feeling positively giddy with relief. “Stubborn little brat, anyway.”
And as Sam slowly pulled himself to his feet...wincing as he’d landed a little bit harder than he’d anticipated– it’d taken everything that he had not to actually pass the hell out like his head was telling him too...he knew that it was that time that they were all banking on.
He picked up his little box that had miraculously landed next to him undamaged, gently shaking its precious contents.
“Guess what,” he said, lips curling into his own smug grin. “Now it’s my ball game, bitch.”
Oceane - March 9, 2009 02:55 AM (GMT)
Awww...I loved Bobby's flashback when he met the boys for the first time, so sweet :)
What Sam has in store for Lilith, can't wait to know.
Gret work JJ :cheer
trickie - March 9, 2009 06:46 PM (GMT)
Okay...what's in the box... And no, I'm not reciting the line from seven lol
The flashback was so sweet. Bobby can't hide how sweet he really is, he acts all gruff but he's just a big ol' teddy bear.
Please don't keep me waiting, I need to know what Sam has planned,
jj'sgirl - March 11, 2009 09:57 PM (GMT)
hi all, here you go. Hope you all like this one. Hugs, JJ.
Trying unsuccessfully to take another step forward, the demoness’s eyes turned hard. Calculating. And as the last of her giggling childlike features melted away, Sam truly saw, for maybe the first time, the sheer amount of unabashed evil that lied beneath her girlish demeanor.
“You honestly think your little chalk drawings are gonna hold me, boy?” she sneered. “I’d a thought that even the all powerful fool Sammy Winchester would have learned that last time.”
This time not rising to the bait, the young hunter simply smiled. Shrugging silently, he toed away the edge of the fraying throw rug to reveal the identical set of interlocking rings on the floor beneath her.
“That really the best you got?” she growled.
But Sam simply shrugged once more. He watched, pleased with himself as she weighed her options of escape.
“Don’t look so smug, human,” she snarled, arms crossed about her breast. “Even if I’m stuck in here for a bit, Doesn’t really matter. I can kill you just as easily from in here.”
Got a point kid, the elder hunter cautioned inside his own head. Best be careful.
“Big words from the girl that’s got herself stuck in a chalk circle...again,” he pointed out helpfully, moving the box from one hand to another.
The movement distracted her for a moment, but wasn’t enough to keep her attention focused for long. And as her head snapped upward once more, Bobby’s eyes glowed with fire, showing her true anger at his words.
Ignoring her, Sam ran his hand over the small wooden box. Swallowing hard, he thought for a moment that he could hear the tinny music playing. But it wasn’t. And the little Ballerina wasn’t dancing anymore either. Hadn’t in a hell of a long time.
[I]The grizzled old hunter look at Sam for a long moment. Focus kid, he snapped, the sound echoing in his own head. But it was clear that the kid was lost in his own head. Damn it, anyway.
Another lifetime really.
But try to focus as he might, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from traveling back to that time for only the briefest of moment.
The white painted jewelry box had been a gift for Jess. She’d always had a thing for those insufferable little dancing ballerinas. The little sneak found anything that he hid in their apartment, which was how it ended up in that storage shed.
Then he suppressed a shudder.
And he’d planned on putting her ring in it. The perfect present for a Christmas that came a month and a half too late.
He choked back the emotion that suddenly threatened to overwhelm.
The hunter’s fingers tightened around the treasured box. He couldn’t...wouldn’t...think about that...about her, now. He had bigger fish to fry at the moment. Old memories would just have to wait.
Wake up Winchester, damn it.
Looking up, he wondered just how long he’d been lost in his own head. Precious moments lost, as the little she-bitch had managed to worm her way out of the innermost trap.
Wake up, Winchester, he silently berated himself, shaking himself from the cobwebs of things better left unthought. Get it together already.
“You know,” Sam said finally, his stubborn Winchester pride the only thing keeping his voice steady. “I never thought I’d find anything that I hate more that old yellow eyes.” He growled. “Azazel.” Then he paused, lips twisting up into a grim smile. “Then I met you.”
She frowned slightly at the non-sequitur turn the conversation had taken. She met his gaze. “Likewise.”
The young hunter let out a bark of laughter. Yeah, he supposed she probably hadn’t been to thrilled to learn about him either. Though, her apparent hate of Azazel did pose some thought..for later though.
“But see,” Sam said, taking a few steps closer to her. “He might have been a bastard,” he said. “But he did one thing for me.”
She snorted derisively. “Your powers,” she sneered. “Bled in baby Sammy’s mouth. Cause you’re so damn special.” Her lips pressed into a firm line. “Haven’t you learned by now that your puny little powers aren’t strong enough...”
Bobby groaned inwardly, wondering once more how in the hell he’d let the boy talk him into this foolhardy plan. This had better work kid.
“No,” he said, lips quirking up wryly. “Well, yeah,” he backtracked. “But that isn’t what I meant.” He shifted the box once more and gave it a soft shake. “See,” he said, strolling closer. “He told me something...hadn’t really thought about it, you know,” he said. “But made sense.”
“Oh yeah,” Lilith snapped, eyes drawn toward the little box once more. “What’s that?”
“Simple,” Sam said, never taking his eyes off her, even as he shook the box once more. “He told me...after bringing me back to life cause Dean made that dumbass deal...that you demons, despite being evil sons of bitches, have certain rules that you have to follow.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “And...” Tiring of the game, she began to focus her energy on breaking the second chalk line.
“And...” Another grin. “Theses rules. They just can’t be broken. Set in stone so to speak.” Another pause, this one long another that her gaze once more settled on his. “Like not being able to bring somebody back to life unless someone makes a deal for it, sorta like that.”
The demon burst out laughing. “Please tell me that this whole set up here isn’t just so you can make a deal to bring your brother back to life,” she said, a hand on Bobby’s hip. “I thought you were smarter than that, Stanford boy and all. Please tell me that you don’t think I’d made a deal like that. What do you want...his life for your soul?” She sneered again. “Pitiful, really.”
But Sam didn’t rise to the bait.
Another laugh, closer to a snort this time. “You Winchesters...self sacrificing sons of bitches, the whole lot of you.”
Bobby would have rolled his eyes if he could. Never thought that I’d agree with a damn demon. But the little bitch did had a good point there.
The hunter said nothing, still clutching the box silently in his hand.
“I don’t need to deal to see you dead, Winchester,” she said. “Not when I can kill you just as easily without one.”
She cringed, that was just what she was afraid of. “Did he figure it out?” she whispered, more to himself that aloud. “Please tell me he figured it out.”
Standing there in the great ‘hereafter’ John clutched his wife’s hand, not sure whether it was hers or his own that was trembling.
And he really didn’t know why the powers that be were allowing him...them...to view this unfolding scene. In one way he was glad that he could see, in another horrified that he was simply standing by idly, not able to help at all.
“I should be there,” he said, heart aching at the amount of sheer danger his boy was in...danger that he’d put the boy in.
“You’ve done all that you could, John,” Mary said. “More than you should have been able to.” She turned her face away from the unfolding scene for a moment, looking him in the eye. “He’s a good boy. Strong. Intelligent. If anybody can do this, our Sammy can.”
He nodded. “I know, but...”
But his words trailed off as he watched his boy begin to smile.
Sam stared at her, lips curling up ever so slightly. “See,” he said quietly...just low enough that she had to focus on him to hear what he said. “That got me thinking...” Another pause, a weighed one, this time. “Demons are limited by the deals that they make, aren’t they,” he said. “Can’t do more than what the deals they struck allow, right?”
“I suppose,” the demon said, wearily, her full attention now focusing securely on him. “Why?”
And Sam simply smiled once more, gaze flickering once to where his brother’s now-cold body lay.
“You’re brother traded up his soul willingly,” she growled, her anger...and possibly concern over the turn the conversation had taken...bursting out from her and snapping the ceiling boards of both the second and third devil’s trap holding her. “He was stupid. Screwed up.”
“See that’s what I thought,” he said, smiling once more. “Fact I wanted to kill him myself for being so damn stupid,” he admitted, glancing once more at his brother’s body.
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” Lilith purred. “I took care of that one for you...and I got his soul. Fair and square.”
“Except you didn’t,” he said firmly.
“Uh...yeah,” she said, turning to look at the dead hunter. “I think I did.”
“Cept you didn’t count on one thing.”
“What?” she growled.
And the hunter’s eyes flashed dangerously. “That you weren’t allowed to touch his soul.”
“Why’s that, Winchester?”
Sam smiled then, a truly happy smile for the first time in over a year as he opened the small treasured box, revealing the small piece of paper inside. The tinny sound of ‘It’s a Small World’...Jess’s favorite song...filled the air.
“Cause,” he said simply. “His soul belongs to me...and I want it back. Right now!”
trickie - March 11, 2009 10:13 PM (GMT)
Yes!! I suspected as much. Dean promised everything to Sam that night before Sam left didn't he. His soul included, and because Sam has demon blood it was the same as making a deal with a demon...Yes?
So awesome...loving this.
jj'sgirl - March 14, 2009 06:58 AM (GMT)
hey hon, thanks again. Hope you like this one...but just a warning, you all should know me by now that nothing's ever that easy with me. LOL. But, on a lighter note, this one has a nice flashback for all those of you (like me) who are missing some good old fashioned Dean smart ass. Hope you all enjoy...and aren't coming after me with the pitchforks when you're done reading this update. LOL. Hugs, JJ.
The demon stopped cold. “What in the hell are you talking about?” she growled, words coming out in a near feral snarl.
Sam, for his part, simply smiled as he allowed his thoughts to travel back in time to that ratty rental house all those years ago.
Sam was sitting at the desk, looking for a pencil and slamming drawers in his wake. “The hell is that damn...” he muttered.
“Problem?” Dean asked wryly.
The younger brother shot him a look, saw him standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe one hand in his jean pocket.
“Yeah,” he snapped, throwing the words over his shoulder without actually looking at his sibling. “Dad’s a prick and I can’t find a damn pencil.”
The elder brother whistled, it being obvious that he’d missed some fireworks with his run to the hardware store. “And you’re a bitch and I’m the cool brother and Patty Anderson has breasts that I hope to someday have my eyes poked out by,” he said, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Sam blew out a frustrated breath, but couldn’t quite help it when the corners of his lips quirked upward traitorously. “You’re a stubborn-assed jerk,” he pointed out.
Dean chuckled as he casually strolled into the room. “That too,” he said with that lady-killing smirk of his. “But your forgot to mention how devilishly handsome I am.” He flopped into the middle of Sam’s bed, laying on it with a playful bounce. “So wanna tell me what’s got your panties in a twist this time, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” he said. “And, no, I don’t.” but his voice had lost some of its normal gruffness of late.
The elder brother sighed. That more than anything set off a red flag in his head. Sitting up, he shook his head. “You told him, didn’t you.”
Sam said nothing, though his anger seemed to abate just a bit and his shoulders drooped lower.
“Damn it, Sam,” Dean said. “I told you to wait till he was in a good mood.”
“When’s he ever in a good mood?” he asked, standing and crossing the room. He sat down on the bed next to his brother.
A shrug. Good point. “So what happened, kid?”
“I’m not a child anymore,” Sam growled, moving to wrench himself to his feet. “So stop trying to treat me like one.”
“Chill, dude,” Dean said, pulling a hand on him and hindering his efforts to stand. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He held up his hand then in mock surrender. “Promise.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, grinning sheepishly. “I just...” He sighed. “He still thinks I’m some stupid kid and treats me like one. You know? It’s just so damn infuriating.”
“We’re his kids, Sam,” he said, the voice of reason. “And no matter how old your geeky ass gets. Ain’t nothing ever gonna change that.”
Sam knew his brother was right. But it didn’t make it any easier a pill to swallow. “Thought he’d be proud a me,” he muttered to himself.
But Dean easily picked up on it in the otherwise quiet room. “He is, dude,” he said. “Just awful protective of you.”
He snorted. “Right.”
“I’m serious, smart ass,” he said, whacking the younger brother none-to-gently upside the back of the head. “He can’t protect you all the way on the other side of the country and that scares the hell out of him.”
“No,” he said, holding up his hand. “Hear me out, okay?”
Sam nodded reluctantly.
He turned to look his little brother in the eye. “You’re right. You’re eighteen now. Hell, been an adult for far longer than any of us would like to admit. So you’re sure as hell big enough to fight your own battles now,” he said. “Dad’s gonna have to realize that. He can’t protect you all the time now.”
And he could tell that his brother was realizing for, maybe the first time ever, that he couldn’t protect him all the time either.
“So dad go all postal on your ass?” Dean asked seriously.
Sam just shook his head. “Nope,” he said. And really, a fight would have been easier to take. “Just said that I wasn’t going...not until we found it and killed it.” He kicked his foot at the night stand absently. “Just said I wasn’t going...as if he has any say in the matter.”
The elder brother whistled again. “So why’d you tell him now,” he said. “Thought we were gonna tell him together...see if I could soften him up a bit first.”
He pulled himself to his feet, crossing to stare out the window for a long moment before answering. When he finally turned to look at his brother, he had a strange...yet resolved...look on his face. “You were right when you said that I’m an adult now, Dean,” he said. “I’ve got to face my own battles. Fight my own battles.” He frowned. “If I’m such a coward that I can’t even tell dad that I’m got accepted to college, how can I survive out there alone all by myself.”
Dean nodded. He could respect that, he supposed.
“‘s why when we have it out,” Sam said. “Cause you know we’re going eventually.” His lips twisted up into a sad smirk. “Knock down drag out, probably,” he said. “And when we do...it’s between me and him. And you’re gonna stay the hell out of it.”
“Promise me, Dean,” the younger brother insisted. Cause he knew down deep that when push came to shove, dad was gonna push and he was gonna shove right back...and he didn’t want his brother caught in the middle the way he’d so often been in the last few months. Hell, the past few years if he was honest with himself.
“Sammy, you need...”
But he simply continued to stare..damndable puppy dog eyes working overtime...until he saw his finally nod his acquiescence.
“You’re funeral, dude,” Dean said. “But, okay. I’ll let you two jackasses fight this one out yourselves.”
Sam sat down next to him and was quiet for a long moment before he gave his brother a shaky “thanks.” Then a louder, “Jerk.”
The elder brother chuckled, as he gave his brother a rough shove...right off the bed. “Anytime, bitch.”
The youngest Winchester, having been trained both in combat and rules of brotherly battles for enough years that he managed to grab the elder’s pant leg on the way toward the floor and they both ended up in a mass of tangled limbs and flailing arms with a loud thud.
But the younger hunter became so lost in his own memories that he failed to see the threat right if front of his eyes.
Lilith, left to her own devices for a precious few moments, seemed to regroup, and, with a blast of energy shattered the first four devil’s traps beneath Bobby’s size ten shoes. Leaving only three traps above her head and two below to keep such a source of evil contained.
The blast of energy hit Sam, knocking him backward a few steps. Not enough to do him any real damage as most of the energy blast had gone toward shattering floorboards, it did jar, however, him back to the present.
Unfortunately, it also jarred the small box from his hands.
Sam watched...seeming in slow motion...as the tiny music box, precious cargo and all tumbled right into the center of the trap he’d laid for her.
The demon stooped down and picked up the small box, a smile playing lazily on Bobby’s lips. “Gee,” she said. “And I was actually beginning to think that you might have a plan after all.”
“Don’t touch that,” he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously.
Another grin as she peered at the paper inside, reaching her fingers toward the prize...or in this case, the soul’s pink slips, so to speak. “What is it you miserable humans say?” She laughed again. “Possession is nine tenths of the law?”
“No,”Sam moaned, horrified by the sight of that all important box in her slimy evil-ridden hands.
“Yes,” Lilith said gleefully, lips curling into a sadistically satisfied smile. “Seems Dean’s soul belongs to me after all.”
trickie - March 14, 2009 11:59 AM (GMT)
Wait! No!! :bang Damnit Sam, how could you drop it?! Sheesh,
I'm seeing that things are not going to be that easy, so close....Too much think Sammy.
I loved the flashback, brotherly moments are so sweet
Oceane - March 14, 2009 08:13 PM (GMT)
Two intense chapters back to back.
What Lilith is up to :unsure:
I can't wait to read more.
ilaria - March 14, 2009 10:15 PM (GMT)
amazing chapters!!!!but now sammy drop it!!!no!! :(
I can't wait for more ;)
jj'sgirl - March 16, 2009 05:10 AM (GMT)
hi all, thanks so much for your comments. I'm glad that you are still enjoying this one. I hope you like this chapter, I'm personally really proud of it...especially the contrast between the moods in what's happening currently compared to the flashback. Anywho, hope you all enjoy. Hugs, JJ.
For as slow as time seemed to be moving, it all happened too quickly for the young hunter to react.
As he watched her reach for the tiny scrap of paper, the only thought in his mind was ‘no’ and he found his feet moving before their action fully reached his head. All he knew was that he wanted to put himself bodily between his brother and that little demon bitch.
This was a fight to the death, one way or another, he knew. Hell, had known for quite some time that was the way it was all going to go down...either Lilith’s or his ‘head on a stick,’ as Ruby had so eloquently put in a few months back.
And while this had everything to do with Dean, in the end it had nothing to do with him too. This was between Sam and Lilith, a showdown of the ages. The elder Winchester, by this point, simply a pawn on both their chessboards...and Sam’d be damned before he let her get him in check.
No, one way or another, this was gonna end tonight...and he was fairly certain that it was damn well gonna end bloody.
Her hand reached the paper. She grasped the scrap in Bobby’s short stumpy fingers, triumph shining brightly in her eyes and the box crashed back to the floor unnoticed.
And it was at that moment...the point of contact between the ‘deal’ and the ‘demon’...that the world exploded into a wall of pure unadulterated white energy.
Not expecting the violent explosion...and not able to fully react in time...he wasn’t able to throw up any defenses against the wave of pure power.
“Son of a...” he gasped before the wave hit him and he was thrown backward, the air pushed from his lungs as he was sent airborne.
As he landed, the white momentarily dissolved into black as his head bounced off the hard wood floor with a bone jarring thud. Momentarily stunned as yet another wave of pure energy hit him, he felt pain explode through his skull and the squishy sickness of his own blood trailing lazily down the side of his face from the point of contact.
He simply reacted...fighting against the rising blackness long enough to pull himself to Dean’s side...moving to cradle the senior brother protectively in his arms as the world exploded around them.
And the darkness crept ever closer to claim him.
But he fought it. He couldn’t...damn it, wouldn’t...lose consciousness.
Not now, not after he’d come so far.
Focus Winchester, he mentally berated himself, fighting against the encroaching darkness. Focus on something...anything...
Just...focus, damn it.
Don’t go to sleep.
His head lulled slightly.
Sleep sounded so goo...
No, Damn it, Sam Winchester, he growled silently in his best John Winchester impersonation. Wake the hell up and focus. You’ve got a damn job to do.
Focus, he thought to himself. Just got to focus.
Focus on anything...focus on staying awake.
Just ride out the wave of energy.
Knowing instinctively that he was going to have no effect on the outcome...whatever was going to happen was just gonna happen...and unable to do anything but wait out the tide, he simply focused.
Focused and prayed that it would all end soon.
Focused on the one thing that would keep himself grounded...keep himself alive...his brother.
And as wave after wave of energy, of power, crashed into his unprotected back, Sam simply focused on Dean and allowed the memories of that night all those years ago to overtake him once more.
“Get off me, you asshole,” he growled, struggling in vain.
But Dean’s deep baritone laughter filled the room. “Say it, bitch.”
Their wrestling match had ended like nearly all did...a valiant attempt to kick his elder brother’s ass always ended with himself being pinned and at Dean’s mercy.
“Hell no, you big jerk,” came the automatic reply.
“Well at least I can eat at McDonalds with out wetting myself, Samantha,” Dean said, starting back up their ongoing argument of the last few moments.
“That was once, you jerk. I was five and only because you made we watch ‘It’ the night before,” Sam countered. “And I swear to God, if you call me Samantha one more time…”
“What are ya gonna do about it, bitch?”
But that didn’t mean that Sam was just gonna lay down and die. Hell, no. He still had some fight left in him. Going still for a long moment, he contemplated how to get his brother off his back.
Off his back.
Ass was sitting on him, squishing him to the floor.
“I might just have to kick your ass…shrimp,” the younger brother grumbled. As if he was in any position to make that particular threat sound credible.
“Sasquatch,” the elder brother said, thinking the same thing as his deep baritone laughter filled the room once more.
“Amazon Chick,” Dean countered.
“Asshole,” Sam huffed.
Could face any damn evil in hand to hand combat and come out without a scratch and yet couldn’t seem to get ahead in a juvenile pissing contest with his big brother.
Grumbling, he went quiet and planned his escape.
“You okay there Sammy?” Dean asked, beginning to grow concerned at his lack of movement. “Is the wittle baby getting tiwered,” he asked, voice positively dripping with mock sympathy. “He need a wittle nap?”
When Sam still didn’t move, the elder brother leaned down toward him...just to make sure he really was okay.
It was the move that Sam had been waiting on and as his brother was slightly off balance, he simply bucked.
But the elder brother, prepared for the move...damn him, anyway...used Sam’s own momentum against him and wrenched his arms behind his back, securing the squirming eighteen year old much to securely for said teen’s ego to handle.
“Getting winded there, Samantha?” Dean asked smugly.
Sam narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Yeah, well you’re just pissy because you’re short.”
“Covering old territory there, Sammy. You already said that,” Dean said, smirking. “Is that really the best you got?”
“It’s Sam,” he said, a wicked smile coming to his lips, despite the fact his face was flushed with a combination of exertion and embarrassment at being pinned so easily...again. “And I wasn’t talking about your height.”
That one stopped the elder brother in his tracks. “Short...you just called me short, you little bitch?” he asked, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Hittin a little below the belt there, kid, dont’cha think?” Then he tutted playfully. “You’ll pay for that one, Sammy,” he said, patting the younger man on the head once before smiling devilishly. “I do believe you’re gonna regret that one.”
Dean effortlessly transferred both his brother’s wrists into one hand and then twisted around to lift up his brother’s leg.
“Dean...” Sam squawked, voice betraying him. He knew what his brother was gonna do...and talk about hitting below the belt. He squirmed, trying his damndest to escape his brother’s hold.
“Ah, ah, ah, Sammy,” he said, cracking him once sharply square on the ass. “Hold still.”
“Did you just spank me you big perv?” he growled, trying once more to buck the elder boy off his back.
But Dean was having none of it. He simply grinned and then, wrapping his free arm around his brother’s leg, he let his fingers rest dangerously on the under curve of his little brother’s sock-clad foot.
“Let me go,” he said. “Come on, Dean .Get off.”
“Shouldn’t a called me short, geek boy,” Dean announced before attacking little brother’s said foot and tickling unmercifully.
The younger Winchester writhed, despite his best efforts to remain still, under his brother’s unrelenting fingers. “Stop, damn it.”
“Come on, Sam,” Dean said, holding on tight to his brother, not about to let his prey escape. “Say it and it’ll be over.”
“No.” Then a breathless. “Come on, pl...” But he bit the words off, not yet ready to beg. “Damn it, Dean. This is stupid...get off me.”
“Last chance, bud,” he warned. “Gonna say it?”
“Get bent,” Sam replied, trying his damndest not to giggle. Cause, damn it, grown men didn’t giggle. And he was pissed. He didn’t want to laugh. But damn it if he wasn’t about to... No, damn it. He wasn’t gonna...but in the next moment, his resolve faded as he felt Dean shift once more.
The elder brother deftly removed his sock. “Should a just said uncle, dude,” he said. “But suit yourself.” And with that, he renewed his attack, this time skin upon tender ticklish skin.
And Sam Winchester, despite his best efforts was done for. “Okay,” he gasped breathlessly. “Okay, I give...uncle.”
“Nice try,” Dean said, never stopping. “Try again.”
“Come on, Dean, please.” Okay, so he caved, but damn it he just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please,” Sam said, foot twisting to try and avoid his brother’s damndable fingers. “Come on, bro.”
“Say it,” the elder brother instructed once more.
“Okay,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Okay.” Another pause. “You win.”
Dean’s fingers stilled, still poised and ready for attack. “And...”
Sam groaned. “And you’re the cool brother.”
“Damn it, Dean...”
The elder’s fingers moved toward the unprotected toes.
“No...okay, okay, okay...and the handsome one,” Sam finally admitted, letting out a defeated sigh as the weight on his back suddenly eased as Dean slipped to the floor beside him.
Slowly they sat up, both leaning against the bed. He looked at his older brother, frowning good naturedly. “You’re still an ass.”
“Yep,” Dean replied, pulling himself to his feet. “But a handsome one.” He offered a hand down to help him up.
Accepting the help begrudgingly, Sam couldn’t help but think that it was moments like these...jackass moments of pure unadulterated fun, even if his brother was a dick...that he was gonna miss most when he left.
He swallowed hard. “You know...”
But before he could finish the thought, Dean was speaking once more. “Hey,” he said, eyes lighting up in the way that said he had a plan. The likes of which, in years past if memory served him, had usually ended up with one...or usually both... of them getting their asses paddled courtesy of dear old dad. “I’ve got an idea...”
Sam’s breath came out in a huff, interested despite the fact that his conscience was telling him that whatever ‘it’ was, surely spelled trouble.
But besides, he’d already decided that he was leaving for school tomorrow, just hadn’t told anybody yet...even Dean. So, to him, one last moment of brotherly bonding sounded good to him.
“Okay,” Sam said, grinning back at him. But it was a melancholy smile. He was going to miss his big brother come tomorrow. “You know I’m game...what?”
trickie - March 16, 2009 01:14 PM (GMT)
Hang in there Sam, don't let that little b**ch win!
Aww, loved the flashback...wrestling until Sam said what big brother wanted to hear. :lol: You know the tickling torture really does work, I have used it a time or too myself. I've also been victim to it <_<
So Dean has an idea, I'm with Sam on this one...It can only mean trouble.
ilaria - March 16, 2009 08:31 PM (GMT)
the flashback was really amazing,great chapter ;)
Oceane - March 16, 2009 10:44 PM (GMT)
This memory from the past put a big smile on my face :D
What Dean has in mind, can't wait to know :)
jj'sgirl - March 18, 2009 04:03 AM (GMT)
Hi all, here you go. Hope you all like this one. Thanks so much for your continued support. Hope you enjoy. Hugs and happy hunky Winchester thoughts. JJ
Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Let’s pledge ourselves to each other.”
Sam snorted. Did he really just say that? “You want a ring and everything?”
The senior brother gave him a rough shove. “Shut it, smart ass,” he said. “That’s not what I meant...you know, like a ‘blood brothers’ thing.”
“We are blood brothers, dumbass,” he shot back with a smirk.
Dean frowned, showing what he thought of his brother’s penchant for details. “You in or not?”
The younger brother broke out into a grin. “Of course,” he said. “And we both know it.”
Sam heard a scream, and in the back of his mind, he recognized the pain-laced yell as Bobby’s.
But in his present state of semi-consciousness, where past and present were melded, morphing as one, he couldn’t quite comprehend what their old family friend had been doing in his and Dean’s room that night.
Funny, he didn’t remember him being there.
He blinked groggily.
Really didn’t remember having such a headache that night either, but it was sure throbbing like a real bitch now, that was for damn sure.
He tried to lift his hand toward his aching temple, but found that he didn’t quite have the strength the simple movement required at the moment. And letting his hand drop uselessly to the ground, he succumbed to the memories once more.
Sam looked about the darkened room with a derisive snort, the drapes down to clock out the rays of the setting sun. “Dad’s gonna fry our asses if he finds out,” he said, shaking his head.
“So...” Dean’s eyebrows quirked. “Who’s gonna tell him...you?”
A silent pause, then a bark of laughter. “Hell, no.”
“Well, me neither,” the elder brother assured. “So what he don’t know can’t hurt us, right?”
Sam laughed once more. He did have a point there. “Okay,” he said slowly, a nervous grin coming to his lips.
Cause, despite wanting to do this with his brother, he had been trained from a very young...too young, actually...age that stuff like this was damn well not to be messed with.
As in, ever.
But, he supposed, they weren’t really making any true deals right? It wasn’t like they were actually calling up any evil forces, right? They were just screwing around, not hurting anybody.
He shook his head. They were so gonna get their asses kicked.
But this last moment of brotherly bonding would be worth it, he supposed.
Sam took a deep breath, pushing back the nagging thoughts. Hell, the only trouble they were nearing was if daddy dearest found out what they were doing and killed them for it. “Let’s do it.”
A roaring filled the room, much like when Lilith had made her grand entrance a short while ago, only much louder. It sounded like that time when he and Dean’d gotten stuck in that tornado in that cheep ass rental in Tennessee.
Sounded as if the very walls around them were tumbling to the ground.
As Sam cracked his eye open, he realized that it more than sounded like the room was coming apart at the seams. A gasp escaped his lips as he heard the splintering wood around him.
Floorboards cracked. Chunks of plaster started to rain down on his head, turning his sandy brown hair a muted salt and pepper color. The walls shook and groaned under the stress, trembling, cracks running up and down them.
He squeezed his eyes shut in horror as he felt the foundation shaking beneath him.
A terror laced scream filled the air and it took him a moment to recognize it as his own. Biting it back, he choked on the emotion welling in his throat.
“Noooo...” he muttered, his voice coming out slurred due to the gash on his temple. “Stop it, damn it.”
But the room continued to devolve, seeming to come apart, as piece by piece was unceremoniously wrenched down upon him.
Pieces began raining down atop him.
Not knowing what else to do...and not strong enough to pull himself to his feet...he managed to throw one arm back over his vulnerable neck to protect it and threw the other the other over his brother’s.
Grunting as a large chunk of ceiling landed on his ankle, he felt something snap. “Son of a bitch,” he gasped, as a searing pain shot up his left leg.
He glanced around the darkened room, lit only by candles. “You duct taped the windows.”
“Yeah?” Dean said shrugging. “Had to be dark in here.” A cheeky grin. “You know, atmosphere.”
“You duct taped the windows,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
The elder brother rolled his eyes. “And exactly what part of ‘had to be dark in here’ didn’t you get the first three times, dumbass? What’s the big deal?”
Sam frowned at him. “Dad comes back ‘fore we’re done and he’s gonna ‘big deal’ us, that’s what.” He bit his lip. “You think...” he began, voice trailing off helplessly.
Dean flicked off the lighter...his current a-little-late teenage rebellion along with the pack of smokes in his pocket...leaning back and looking his brother in the eye. “You know we’re just screwin around here, right?” he said seriously. “Nothin’s gonna happen cept maybe dad filleting our asses if’n he finds out,” he said. “But you know you don’t have to do this if you don’t want, Sammy,” he said seriously. “We can stop.”
The younger brother was quiet for a long moment. “I just...” Then he growled, snatching the lighter from him. “We gonna talk or do this?”
A hesitant grin, slowly turning decisive.“Really.” Sam flipped on the lighter, leaning to light the last of the candles in the pentagram they were sitting in.
Just in case.
After all, John had taught them well, and planned on protecting themselves from doing any actual black arts.
They, after all, were just screwing around and didn’t want to take any chances on actually offering up any bona fide authentic deals.
Or so they hoped anyway.
The roar grew louder and louder, and Sam truly wasn’t sure then if it was the room or himself that was trembling so. All he knew was that the world seemed to be crashing down around them.
He didn’t know how long it went on before he heard the scream. Didn’t know. Could have been minutes. Could have been hours.
Seemed like an eternity.
Was probably only moments.
He tried to move his leg, a cry escaping his lips at the movement. Damn it, definitely broken. Hell, he hadn’t felt physical pain like that since that zombie chick had tripped him in that graveyard, snapping his wrist.
Though, he supposed...in a moment of mental clarity...that getting his bones broken by the queen of the damned here was somehow more respectful than having that pre-pubescent zombie bitch do the same.
Hell, Dean hadn’t let him live that one down for months.
He felt a pang.
He had to be strong for his brother. Dean would want him to be strong.
Dean would want...
Dean would want him to stop screaming like a damn chick.
No chick flicks, right?
So, with that thought in mind, Sam took a deep breath...and was somewhat surprised to hear the sound of the pain-laced yell continue.
Okay, so wasn’t him, he decided.
Lifting his head, feeling the nausea nearly overtake him at the simple action, he glanced around him. And when the vertigo finally subsided, he blinked away the darkness...and the blood...from his vision only to discover the true sound of the cry.
This time it was Dean hesitating just the slightest.
After all, they both knew better than to be screwing around like this. It was only asking for trouble.
“Here,” he muttered finally, shoving the scrap of paper at his brother. “You first.”
Sam took the paper. “Whose the chicken now?” he muttered, eyes flicking downward once to the dagger lying between them, before picking up the pen and beginning to write.
‘I Samuel Winchester, do hereby solemnly swear...’
trickie - March 18, 2009 04:14 AM (GMT)
:rotfl Oh God...please tell me its not Bobby screaming like a chick!? Oh dear God!
So the boys pledged themselves to each other? Awesome...But now Sam has to make sure Lillith gives back what's rightfully his...Um...can he put Dean's soul back in his body? Please.. I mean I'm glad that Sam found a way to keep his soul from hell, but how-about keeping his cute ass alive too? :lol:
ilaria - March 18, 2009 06:30 AM (GMT)
Great chapter,I love this flashback and what they boys are going to do
I hope Sammy can have dean back :huh:
Oceane - March 20, 2009 12:17 AM (GMT)
Terrific update JJ :)
Can't wait to know what'll happen next.
jj'sgirl - March 24, 2009 09:58 AM (GMT)
hi all, I'm working on an update and will have it for you all soon. Real life's been a rean pain in the you know where. But, soon. I promise. Hugs, JJ.
trickie - March 24, 2009 10:37 AM (GMT)
No problem hon, as much as we hate it - life happens and tends to get in the way of the important fun stuff. :lol:
Thanks for letting us know. Waiting patiently, :rolleyes:
jj'sgirl - March 26, 2009 04:55 AM (GMT)
Hi all, here you go. Hope you all like this one. Took me forever to write it, but I think it will be worth the wait (at least, I hope so anyway LOL). And it is pretty long, too. Thanks for all the kind words. You guys are awesome. Have a good night filled with happy hunky Winchester dreams. Enjoy, Hugs. JJ
“Hereby solemnly swear,” Dean mocked with a snort. “God, you’re such a geek.”
“Kiss off,” the younger one said, giving the elder smart-ass’s shoulder a shove. “You wanna do this or not?”
“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. He motioned to him. “Please...continue.”
Sam rolled his eyes and muttered something anatomically impossible under his breath, before picking up the pen and beginning to write once more.
‘...to pledge my life and soul...’
Another snort. “Pledge?”
The younger brother shot him a dark look and he held his hands up in mock surrender.
‘...to my elder brother Jonathan Dean Winchester.’
Sam out down the pen and picked up the dagger. Wincing, he dragged the sharp silver blade across his tender palm, turning his nose up at the blood pooling in his upturned palm.“Now you,” he muttered, letting out the breath he’d been holding.
“Careful, bro,” Dean said, grabbing his own slip of paper. “Bleed on my carpet and you won’t have to worry about dad. Kick your ass myself.” But even as he spoke, he was already writing.
‘I, Dean Winchester...’
Bobby was yelling.
Sam’s eyes narrowed as best as they could as he stared at the elder hunter. He could tell that Bobby was screaming...but,
He cocked his head, pushing his own pain on the back burner for the moment.
It was almost as if...
No, that wasn’t possible.
It was almost as if it wasn’t really Bobby in pain. The tortured scream seemed to be coming from deep inside. From somewhere deep inside.
Sam forced himself to turn over onto his back. Then waiting until the shooting pain eased somewhat, he sat up.
If he wasn’t mistaken...and he was somehow certain he wasn’t...it wasn’t truly Bobby screaming, but rather the demonic little she-bitch possessing him.
He watched the elder hunter writhing on the floor.
And as he watched Bobby’s face contorting in pain, for a moment, he could sense the evil lying beneath the surface. His gaze traveled down to the paper she was still clutching in her hand and it was only then that he knew.
The power in the room wasn’t something she was doing. It was being done to her. And she suffered immensely for it.
She met his gaze for a long moment. “Please...”
It was then and only then that Sam finally got it.
She wasn’t creating the power. The power had been created long ago...by a blood bond between brothers.
The power was in the deal.
A deal forged by the demon evils pulsing through his very veins. A deal, which by the rules of the very demon laws she was bound by, forbade her to interfere with. And by merely touching it had invoked some sort of almost cosmic upheaval.
‘...pledge my life and soul to by little sister, Samantha Win...’
“Damn it, Dean,” he growled, smacking his upside the head with his uninjured hand. “Quit screwin around.”
Dean’s lips turned up, grinning mischievously. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch...just seeing in you were still paying attention.”
He crossed out the last few words and began writing once more.
‘...my brother, Sammy Winchester...’
And Sam didn’t even bother complaining about the ‘Sammy’. Hell, it was better an Samantha, he supposed.
‘...and in the event of my death, I will all my worldly possessions to him. Including, but not limited to, my car. He screws with my car and I’ll haunt his as...’
“What?” he asked, grinning once more. “Just taking care of the important things.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah,” he said. “Your soul gets one line and your damn stupid car get’s a whole freaking paragraph. I mean...ow, damn it,” he interrupted himself, a hand on the back of his head. “What the...”
“Do not,” the elder brother said, holding up a warning finger from the same hand that he’d just used to whack said little brother upside the head. “Insult my car.”
He pouted for a moment, then, “Can we just do this already?” he said. “Kinda bleeding all over myself, here.”
“Want some cheese with that whine, there, Sammy,” Dean asked, but he was already picking up the proffered dagger. His breath came out in a soft gasp and he dragged it across his own skin in a mirror move to the one his little brother had done moments before. “Son of a...”
“Hurts, don’t it?”
“No,” he muttered sarcastically. “Feels like butter.”
“Please...” the demon begged, twitching on the ground...her very core writhing in agony...the white light emanating from her. “Make it stop.”
“Told you to keep your grubby mitts off my brother, bitch,” he said callously, not at all swayed by the likes of her.
He sensed once more that he could stop the power.
Sensed that he was the only one who could.
But really wasn’t all that interested in being all that sympathetic to the likes of her at the moment.
“Should have listened to me.”
All around them, the house seemed to be falling in on itself. But for Sam, he never even noticed. Had forgotten all about the pain of his shattered leg. And he didn’t think he could have averted his gaze from hers had he even wanted to.
Bobby’s body bucked, a scream ripping from his lips.
The demon spasmed once and then fell back to the floor, trembling, the near blinding light still pouring from the paper in her hand. “Please...” she said, gaze locking his, as her head lulled to the floor.
“My brother,” he said, voice hard.
Sam stared at his brother for a long moment, before placing his slip of paper next to his own on the floor.
Nodding once decisively, Dean held out his hand.
Grimacing...cause, yeah, ewww...Sam placed his bloody hand on top of his brothers.
They both gasped at the heat emanating from the point of contact...blood to blood.
Flesh to flesh.
Life force to life force.
Blood to blood.
Blood brothers, in more ways than one.
Then, moving simultaneously, they tilted their hands and let their combined blood drip a few precious drops onto each scrap of paper, sealing the deal.
The moment they did so, both the candle sitting between and all the ones surrounding them extinguished, sending the room into complete and utter stupefying darkness.
With a muffled gasp and a not so muffled curse, the two broke apart, both scrambling backward.
“Dean...” Sam said softly, heart hammering in his chest. “What the hell did we just do?”
“Nothin,” Dean responded quickly, sounding just as concerned as his brother. “Nothing. The wind, Sammy,” he said. “From the window must have done it. That’s all.”
But they weren’t even fooling themselves.
Because that window...the window where the wind was supposed to have come from...had been painted shut long before they’d moved in.
“Make it...” the demon stammered softly, visibly weakened. “Stop...make it stop.”
“My brother...now,” he said coldly.
Lilith nodded once, moaning at the slight movement. Sobbing softly, Bobby’s hands unclenched from the paper, it dropping lazily to the floor.
And though the light was a bit dimmer, it still poured forth from the paper on the floor, tormenting the demoness.
But before Sam could contemplate further, he heard another scream. Wrenching around, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Suddenly the two guilty young men heard footsteps in the hall.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Dad,” he gasped.
And Dean was the first to respond. “Come on,” he said, scrambling to clean up all their evidence. “Shove everything under here,” he ordered, holding up the edge of the sheet. “Hurry...’fore he comes in.”
The younger brother was quick to comply, all the while heart pounding.
Oh, God. What had they done?
His brother’s dead body spasmed once and then he bucked on the floor. A scream ripping from what was left of his ravaged, shredded chest.
“Dean?” he gasped, scrambling around toward him. “Oh, God, Dean.”
And Sam truly understood.
A deal had been forged that night. A blood bond between brothers. The power was in the deal. A deal forged by the demon evils pulsing through his very veins.
Because of all that Azazel had done to baby Sammy all those years ago on that fateful night, Dean had unknowingly made a deal with a demon that night.
Now, because of it, Dean was back.
Because hell couldn’t touch him.
Hell couldn’t have him.
His soul, while wasn’t his own, already had an owner...and that owner wasn’t Lilith.
It was Sammy Winchester, as the elder sibling had willingly given it to him on that fateful night all those years ago. .
With his voice thick with tears, the younger one finally spoke. “Now I know what we did that night, Dean,” he said. “I think I finally figured it out.”
But his only response was a pain laced whimper as Dean’s head lulled bonelessly to the side.
trickie - March 26, 2009 10:02 AM (GMT)
Yes! I love the idea of a deal that was awesome. Poor Bobby, Sam is gonna get rid of Lillith isn't he, before any permanent damage is done to Bobby's body or his house?
Loved this chap