VESSELS AND CAULBEARERS
Chapter 1
The Suprise Visitor
A/N's Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters, but I hope you still enjoy the story!
A/N: I am writing this story as an alternative to another story that I am currently writing. I am not using a beta for this one. So, sorry if there are any mistakes in it.
The cold and drenching rain is all the cloaking that Dean needs to cover the emotions that are boiling up in him at this moment: the anger, the frustration, the fear, the anguish, and the insurmountable feeling of sadness.
He can hear the timorous footsteps of his brother walking behind him.
After coming back from Hell, having his soul intergrated, and the "wall" collapsing, saying that Sam is now a nervous wreck is an understatement.
He constantly stops and listens to what "Lucifer" is telling him now.
"He's not real," Dean reminds him for nth time.
Sam blinks twice.
"I kn...know," he stammers.
"I thought, you said you had it under control," Dean says wearily.
"I did," Sam replies sheephishly.
"Then what has changed?" Dean inquires.
Sam only shrugs
"I mean just last week you tell me that you're managing your halluciations with Lucifer," Dean recounts. "Now, you're suddenly freaking out. You even had yourself committed, Dude."
"Don't listen to him, Sammy," Lucifer comments. "He's not real."
Dean watches as his brother continuely tries to squeeze his palm with his other hand.
"Let me look at your hand," Dean orders.
Sam holds up the hand that had been squeezing.
"I meant the other hand."
When Sam brings up the other hand, Dean examines it carefully.
The wounded hand has long been healed.
"See? Booboo's all gone."
"So, this has been your solution to block Lucifer from your vision?" He asks.
He knew that this was how he had shown his brother how to distinguish what was real and what was all in that melon of a brain of his.
Sam nods with a slight hesitation.
"Dude, you do realize that you hand has healed, right?"
Sam brings his once injured hand close to his eyes, and examines it with great scrutiny.
After a moment of silence, he speaks up.
"I need a new injury," he informs his brother.
"What?"
"I need to feel pain," he says holding his hand out towards his brother.
"Ah, Sammy, just when we were getting along."
"What do you want me to do?" Dean asks (even though he already knows the answer.)
"Cut me," Sam simply states.
"And, now you want to end it."
This time it is Dean who gives the pregnant pause.
"Are you nuts?" He snaps.
"It's the only way," Sam pleads. "Please, Dean."
"Alright," Dean sighs in resignation.
Sam sighs in relief.
"Only not here," he announces firmly. "... at the car where the first aid kit is."
Sam just stares at him in a lost and confused manner.
"Look, Sammy," he explains, "I just broke you out of that nut house. I don't need the cops to be looking for us by following a trail of blood."
Sam nods in understanding.
"Great, let's get to the car now," Dead says as he grabs his younger brother by the hand, and starts to drag him along with him.
"Ah, big bruver's gonna fix widdle bruver's hand."
When they reach the car that Frank had issued them, Sam feels a sense of relief pouring out of him.
Dean feels himself physically relax as he sits in the driver's seat. He looks over at his brother's lanky form sitting in the passenger's seat.
"Freaking awesome," he sighs, as he turns the ignition, and drives down the endless stretch of road.
"Uhm, Dean?" Sam asks tentatively.
"Hmm?"
"What about my hand?" Sam voice quakes.
"Let's get out of here first, Sammy," Dean says not wanting to look at his brother's now anguish appearance.
All is silent inside the cab of the car when suddenly a soft mewing sound comes from the back seat.
Dean's eyes immediately shifts to his review mirror.
He can only make out what looks like a small strange bundle laying across the seat.
"What the..." he thinks to himself.
"Look, Sammy," he says calmy as he slowly pulls the car over. "I know you want me to cut you and all. But,..."
Sam glances over at Dean, who is now focusing on what is in the back seat with the now desired knife in his hand..
"Alright, who's in the back seat, now?" Dean roars in the gruffiest voice he could manage, pulling the cover off the quickly.
"Huh," Dean says as he turns to look at his brother, who is now looking at the knife that Dean is wielding.
Dean quickly puts it away, and nudges his head to the back seat.
"Huh, what?" Sam's curiosity starts peaking a little bit.
Sam turns around, and takes a peek. He looks back at Dean who is still staring
"Why is there little girl sleeping in the back seat," he asks before turning back to the sleeping form.
"How the Hell should I know, Sammy" Dean says rubbing his hand over his face.
Dean continues to look at the sleeping child sensing that somehow she looks familiar to him.
"Cassie?" He finds himself saying the name of a woman, he had once loved.
"Cassie?" Sam echoes, then adds, "I didn't know Cassie had a daughter, unless..."
"Unless what?" Dean asks, not taking his face off the small child.
"Unless that IS Cassie," Sam explains his comment, "that she somehow became de-aged or something..."
"Come on, Man," Dean rebukes him, "be serious!"
"I am serious," Sam states, "Patrick turned you into an old man remember? So, why not turn Cassie into a little girl?"
"Why would Patrick turn Cassie into a little girl?" Dean raises his voice a little louder than he intended to.
Sam simply shrugs before stating, "I haven't worked that out, yet."
Before Dean can make any further comment, the little girl's eyes snap open.
Two inquisitive green orbs stare at the two brother before the piercing sound of a high pitch scream comes from the mouth of the child, permeating throughout the inside of the cab of the care.
A/N: All right, I have decided to completely rewrite this story. I wanted the story to be more current with this season. (And, "Souless Sam" was soooo last season.) Please, let me know what you think.
A/N: I seemed to be having problems uploading other chapters. So, I am re-uploading this chapter. Sorry 8-(
A/N: Okay, I think, I know what I did wrong. Sorry about that.