Book Of Damnation
Okay, I thought I'd have another go at writing a Supernatural fic.
This was written by me and a close friend of mine, she'll kill me for mentioning her name but I think she deserves it, sunnyjunedays. This is the third story we've worked on together and I have to admit that without sunnyjunedays none of them would have seen the light of day as I'm not too great at getting things written down. We really hope you enjoy our story.
Disclaimer: Supernatural sadly does not belong to us, but oh how we wish it did.
Chapter One
"We could hit that little bar down the street from the motel, chill a little, few beers and who knows you may even get lucky, don't tell me you didn't notice the bartenders daughter giving you the come on when we interviewed her dad yesterday. Whaddya say Sam? Sam, are you listening to me?" Dean looked to his left fully expecting to see his bigger than him little brother striding alongside but found nothing, no Sam. Stopping and turning Dean rolled his eyes as he spotted his missing sibling, nose pressed against the plate glass window of a small bookstore about ten feet behind him. Raising his hands in a 'hopeless' gesture Dean backtracked until he was standing beside his enraptured brother and followed his gaze. All he could see were piles and piles of dusty, worn books.
"Sam"
Still lost in a world of his own Sam continued to gaze at the array of reading material displayed behind the glass.
"Earth to Sammy" Dean waved a hand in front of his brother's face.
Sam visibly shook himself "Dean, what?"
"You seemed pretty lost there Sammy, you spot a rare hardback edition of Penthouse that I don't know about?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"What! No." Sam's gaze returned to the shop window "Come on Dean, I wanna go inside, there's some really great looking books in here, might even find a first edition."
"Where? All's I see are dusty, grubby used books. What's so great about em. First edition of what?"
Sam was about to answer his brother but instead grabbed a hold of Dean's sleeve and literally dragged him inside.
Stumbling as his brother released the death grip on his arm Dean glared at the retreating form of his very own geek and turned his attention to the mounds of reading material surrounding him. Crouching to pick a rust coloured, worn and if he was honest, downright tatty book from the pile closest to him he flicked through the first few pages and found himself confronted with an illustration of a kite. He read on, learning which materials would make the best 'flyer', then he read the assembly instructions and finally, how to decide whether the weather conditions were suitable for kite flying.
So engrossed was he in the book Dean didn't hear his brother come up behind him, didn't see the smile as Sam watched him drink in the words, didn't notice as Sam peered over his shoulder to see what had captured his older, 'Me, I'm more action than words Sammy' brothers attention.
"So d'you find that rare, hardback edition of Penthouse Dean." Sam knew, despite all his protests to the contrary, that his brother did like to read, was a fluent reader, could decipher practically any text he was confronted with, understood what an author was trying to convey and had read some of the classics, often stopping Sam in his tracks when he inadvertently used a quote from some literary masterpiece.
Slamming the book closed and dropping it back on the pile Dean turned, cheeks reddening, to face his brother.
"Nah, nothing but rubbish. You ready to ditch this place." Dean took a couple of steps back and reached for the door.
"In a minute, I just want to buy this." Sam held up a dark green, leather bound, well worn book, gold lettering decorating its' front.
Digging into his pockets Sam withdrew a twenty and handed it to the old gentleman who seemed to appear from nowhere. "Good choice son, very good choice. I know you'll enjoy it." Handing the change to Sam the old man smiled a farewell. "You take care now, come back soon."
"Thank you sir, but we'll be leaving town in the morning. Just wanted something to read for the journey." Turning to follow Dean out, Sam missed the old man's "We'll see."
"So, what is it."
"What's what."
"The book dummy."
"Oh, it's called 'Travellers Tales' It's a collection of short stories by various unknown authors. Sam flicked through the book as he explained its content to his brother. "Wow, it's taken over fifty years to put this together, look at the dates Dean."
"Sounds riveting." Dean rolled his eyes at his brothers enthusiasm for the tattered reading material.
"I just thought it might be an interesting read, that's all." Sam defended.
Back at the motel Dean left Sam lying on the bed furthest from the door and, grabbing his shaving kit, headed for the bathroom.
"Don't use all the hot water Dean. Dean."
"Sorry, can't hear you Sammy, the showers running."
Sam scowled at the door, a muttered 'Jerk' escaping his lips as he reached for his book. Opening to the first page he read the author's note but couldn't find a name. Flipping the book closed he scoured the cover, front and back, but still couldn't find the author. Raising his eyebrows in surprise he shrugged and turned to the beginning of the first chapter.
Looking up from the final page of chapter one, Sam noticed that he'd been reading for forty minutes. His eyes travelled to the still closed entrance to the bathroom. Not relishing the idea of a cold shower Sam pulled himself off the bed and marched towards the grey painted door, fists curled ready to pound on it's surface. No doubt his brother would find it hilarious that he'd 'mistakenly' used up all the hot water Sam raised his hand and was just about to hammer out his frustration when a heavy thud from inside practically shook the very ground he stood on.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam waited for a smart ass answer but received only silence, not even the shower running could be heard.
"Dean? You better not be screwing around." Sam lifted his foot, pulled it back and brought it forward, splintering the thin wood. "Dean!"
Dean chuckled at the pout he knew his brother would be wearing after his teasing answer to Sammy's demand to leave some hot water for him. His brother was just too easy sometimes.
Dean had no intention of using up all the hot water but it didn't hurt to let his little brother stew for a bit.
After the last couple of days Dean knew they could both use some downtime and had agreed when his brother had suggested making their way to Bobby's tomorrow, after a good nights rest, before which, hopefully, he would have a little leisure time with some of the lovely local ladies.
Dean recalled the events of the 'simple' hunt which had brought them here. It was just an angry spirit, just needed laying to rest. Yeah right.
He and Sammy had managed to track the spirit back to the grave of a fifty two year old general store manager. Apparently the guy had run the store for twenty five years, practically his whole working life. When the owner had decided to sell up the manager was told his services were no longer required, he was given a small pay off and was replaced by the new owners nephew, a kid straight out of college who eventually ran the once thriving business into the ground. After making an offer to buy the store and being rejected, the owner wanting to demolish the building and sell the land, the guy spent the next couple of months trying to drum up support, get the locals behind him in his quest, but found many less than willing to support him, preferring instead to travel to the new mall just outside of town. Two months later the former store manager put a gun to his head and ended his life, leaving a bitter suicide note in which he laid the blame for his death at the feet of each and every resident of the town who had refused to back him. The killings began three weeks later. Each victim one of those who had refused to support the former manager.
Dean felt his body stiffen as he remembered the final battle with the spirit. Whilst Sam prised the lid off the coffin he had been keeping watch, scrutinizing every visible part of the cemetery it was possible to see in the dark. Just as Sam had finished sprinkling the remains with salt and lighter fluid Dean was lifted from the ground, the choking pressure on this throat rendering it impossible to alert his brother to the danger.
Just when he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, the black spots dancing before his eyes rapidly joining, obscuring his view of Sam, he was tossed to the side, flying through the air until he slammed against the unforgiving, ornate wall of the small mausoleum situated not fifty feet from where he and Sam had dug up the grave.
Fighting to stay conscious Dean immediately sought out his brother, his aching body struggling to rise when he saw the spirit advancing on a 'crumpled in a heap' Sam. Dean couldn't see his little brother moving, and panic rising, forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the open grave, reaching the edge just as the spirit reached his unconscious sibling.
"Hey freak" Dean shouted as loud as he dare to gain the spirits attention.
"Too late Dean, I'm going to take your brother with me."
Dean tried to hide his surprise at hearing his name "So, if you know who I am you should also know that there is no way I'm gonna let you take my brother anywhere."
"Oh I know you Dean, I've learned a lot since I died. I know practically your entire family history, starting with mommy, then moving right along to Jess, then Pastor Jim and Caleb, right down to dear old daddy. Oh and lets not forget Sammy, little Sammy, the baby of the Winchester family dead in the mud only to be brought back to life by big brother selling his soul to a demon, and then of course we have you Dean. I know all about you, what makes you tick, what you did when you died and went to hell, your pathetic inability to withstand what was nothing more than childsplay, your glee at a job well done torturing each and every soul placed before you.
What makes you think you're any better than I am?"
Stunned at having his life recounted by the spirit Dean spat "Go to hell."
"I have no doubt that's where I'm headed and I can practically guarantee there'll be no angel waiting to pull me out. Where is Castiel these days Dean? Maybe he's deserted you too, maybe he doesn't want to be associated with the scumbag who spends his life with a blood sucking, demon loving child of Azazel."
"You bastard" Dean could hardly contain his anger and looking the spirit directly in the eye, smirking at the sudden fear reflected in it's gaze, struck the match, tossed it onto the prepared body and didn't even flinch at the high pitched scream the spirit unleashed before it burst into flames and disappeared.
Sinking to his knees Dean remained motionless, his mind replaying the spirits words, his self-loathing resurfacing once more.
Feeling a hand on his shoulder he spun his head and met the unsteady gaze of his little brother
"You know that was all crap, right?"
"What….."
"I heard what it said to you Dean. It's all in the past, neither of us are to blame for what happened. We were both played, me by Ruby, you by the angels, whether that includes Cas I don't know, I guess we won't ever know unless he shows himself. You hearing me dude."
"Yeah, I hear ya."
"Come on then Jerk, I don't know about you but I'm ready to get outta here."
Dean watched his brother stride unsteadily over to the grave and start shovelling the dirt. Grabbing the other shovel Dean stood beside his sibling "Put some effort into it bro." and also began shovelling.
Dean shook the memories off and leapt into the steaming shower, relishing the feel of the hot water as it pounded against bare skin, leaning his arms against the wall and lowering his head Dean sighed as the powerful flow massaged his sore shoulder and back muscles.
Mindful of leaving some hot water for Sam Dean reluctantly stepped out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, stepped to the wash basin, reaching for his shaving kit as he turned the water on.
He never knew what hit him.
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Sam skidded to a halt at the sight of his unconscious brother. "Dean, Dean, come on man, wake up." Sam gently tapped his brothers face in an effort to rouse him. He felt for a pulse and silently muttered 'thank you, thank you, thank you' on finding it strong and steady. After running his hands over his brothers prostrate body Sam was satisfied that he'd suffered no serious injury other than a knock to the head when he fell. Frowning Sam lowered his head until his nose was as close to Dean's mouth as he could get it and sniffed.
"Personal space dude." Dean raised his hands to push his brother away.
Sam jumped at the sound of his brothers voice "Dean! What happened."
Blinking his eyes until his vision cleared Dean took in his surroundings "What am I doing on the floor Sam?"
"You tell me Dean, I heard a thud and found you like this." Reaching down to help his brother to his feet and placing an arm around his shoulders once he was upright Sam resisted Dean's attempts to free himself and led the way out of the bathroom, only relinquishing his hold when his brother was safely seated on his bed.
"Dean have you er, have you been"
"Have I been what!"
"Have you been…" Sam paused, surveyed his brothers battered, weary face and continued "Have you been hitting the bottle again." He rushed the words out.
Sam had been worried about his brothers drinking in the months following his return from hell. Dean seemed to use alcohol, particularly whiskey, as a crutch to get him through the days and especially the nights, to the extent that Sam and Bobby became worried that instead of trying to deal with what he'd been through Dean was just burying it in the bottom of a bottle, and Sam couldn't blame him, damn, he didn't think he could've coped as well as Dean had but things were getting bad and Sam and Bobby decided to confront and help him face his fears.
It'd been hard, really hard given how stubborn Sam knew his brother was and how he was unwilling to admit he had a problem so Sam and Bobby devised a plan where both boys would stay with him for three weeks, cleared the house of booze and relentlessly pleaded with Dean to let them help him.
After repeated fierce arguments between the three of them Sam and Bobby resorted to dirty tricks.
Bobby, getting Dean alone, reminded the now oldest Winchester that he had promised his dad that he would look out for Sam, and yes, he also knew that he'd promised to kill his sibling if he couldn't save him, but both Bobby and Dean knew that was never gonna happen.
Bobby also pulled Mary Winchester into the mix. "How d'you think your momma'd feel if she knew what you were doing to yerself boy, it'd break her heart."
Dean froze as Bobby's words sunk in, images of his dad throughout the years flashing in front of his eyes, images of his mom before she died and then again years after her death when she appeared at their old house danced at the forefront of his vision.
Head lowered, shielding his eyes from the man who was more a father figure than mere friend, his shoulders slumped and his legs feeling as though they were going to give up on him any second, Dean jumped as a hand found it's way onto his shoulder, as he was drawn into a gentle embrace. Dean remained still and let himself be held for a few moments before disentangling himself from Bobby's arms.
"I, I just…." Dean started but found he didn't know how to explain how he was feeling. Not having his brother's ability to express himself; Dean usually kept his feelings hidden.
"Just let us help you, Sam and me, that's all we want." As Bobby finished speaking the door opened, Sam cautiously walking in, eyes fixed on his brother.
Dean took in the solemn face, the worried eyes and tense body and eased his siblings mind "It's okay Sam, it'll be okay and I'm, I'm sorry for……"
After that Dean had worked hard to deal with things, he told Bobby and Sam all that he remembered from his time in hell, he admitted how terrified he was of what would happen to Sam with Ruby manipulating him, he admitted that he too had been manipulated, but by the other side, the angels having used him for far from good intentions, he confessed he was worried about Cas because the angel hadn't been in touch since the night they'd got rid of Ruby and witnessed the signs of Lucifer, insisting that the angel was practically the only honest soul amongst all of the angels they'd encountered.
Sam and Dean trained together every day, Sam also getting his life back to normal, well Winchester normal anyway, after what Ruby had contrived. He had no illusions that it was going to take a lot longer before he was 'normal' again. But he and Dean were together and for that Sam was truly happy.
Dean's gaze remained steady on his brothers face "No Sam, I haven't been drinking. You've been with me all night, how could I?"
Sam knew his brother was telling the truth, but he'd had to ask anyway "Sorry. So what happened?"
"I don't know, must've just slipped."
Accepting the fall as an accident Sam and Dean decided to forgo the idea of an evening at the local bar and settled instead for a pizza and a couple of beers, Sam knowing that his brother was now able to stop at one or two.
Sam lay back on his bed, watching as Dean flicked through the channels on the ancient tv in a desperate attempt to find something entertaining to watch, finally settling on a re-run of the season finale of America's Next Top Model.
Grabbing his book Sam opened it up to the last page of the previous chapter and re-read it, grimacing at the tale of an unfortunate accident at a swimming pool where a guy had slipped on the wet poolside, fallen into the water and become trapped as his foot got caught in a safety loop, his blood turning the water pink. The guy wasn't found until the pool opened the next morning, his body slashed and torn as though he'd been attacked by a wild animal.
Turning the page Sam was stunned to find that that was the end of the story, no explanation as to what had obviously attacked the guy whilst he was in the water, nothing. Sighing Sam surmised that the short story was left like this so the reader could use their imagination to come up with an explanation. Grinning to himself Sam closed the book 'bet there aren't many people could come up with what I could' he amusedly thought to himself.
The bookshop owner raised rheumy eyes to the mirror over the antique dresser in the back room and smiled, sparkling black eyes looking back at him. He nodded his pleasure
"They came, the boy took the book" the words spoken to his reflection laced with an unmistakeable excitement.
T.B.C………………………..Please Review