Title: Unknowing Puppeteer

Genre: Drama/Supernatural

Warning: Cussing, blood and gore. Aka,just like the show. Oh and chick flick moments. )

Disclaimer: I wish I did, but I don't.

Summary: A promise gone too far. A necklace. A death. A secret that Dean has kept long before pulling Sam back in the hunt. It's all coming unraveled...

Notes: At long last it's done. More notes at end. Oh, Blah is flashbacks/stressed words, blah is story

It had been more than surpassing that Dean had made it out of that car accident alive. There had been moments when his heart had stopped; there had been various emergency surgeries and times where Sam had sat and waited with a cup of coffee in hand at three o'clock in the morning to see how his brother was doing.

But Dean had survived, somehow. Sam never looked into a reason why. Dean had made it, and his brother was by his side.

Their father, however...

John Winchester had had a broken leg and more than a few stitches, but he left as soon as he could. With a few words to his youngest son, such as, 'I'm taking the Colt and going back after the demon.', he simply limped into Dean's room, took one good long look at Dean and placed the necklace that had been laying beside Dean since the latest surgery around his eldest son's neck. He had told the doctor that no matter what happened that necklace was never to come off. And he limped out of the hospital.

And miraculously, Dean started to get better immediately.

Sam never connected Dean's health to the necklace. He had been far too worried about Dean to notice what his father had done before abandoning the duo.

Also, Sam never questioned his brother's need to be close to him for the following five weeks. Dean was getting better and that was all that mattered.

Or so, Sam thought.

Unknowing Puppeteer

Dean was weirded out.

But then, who wouldn't be, glancing around some old shaman's room that had different things preserved in various jars of different sizes and shapes? He took a closer look at one
jar. Was that...a small intestine?

Ew.

Sure, he was fifteen years old. But no one can stand looking at preserved body parts without being a tad disconcerted.

He turned his attention to his father and the shaman. They were whispering and pointing to some book. the shaman kept shaking his head and mouthing 'no' to his father. Dean
knew, though, in the end, they would get what they had come for.No one said 'no' to John Winchester when push came to shove.

He watched as his father produced a jar filled with what looked like ashes. The shaman took one look at the jar, and an expression not too unsimilar to one of a child at Christmas.

Dean watched as his father pulled the jar back and pointed at some picture. The shaman sighed, nodded his head and left the room.

Dean looked at his father questionably. John shook his head and turned his attention back to the shuffling shaman.

In the gnarled hands, there was an ebony colored box. It was covered in markings that he vaguely remembered seeing before in some book that Sammy most likely had read. The shaman, however, approached Dean, not his father. The shaman opened the box and Dean peered inside.

Inside lay a small silver amulet that had been strung on a cord of leather. The amulet had markings similar to those on the outside of the box. He felt compelled to pick it up. And he did. However as soon as his hands touched the amulet, it seemed to pulse.

The shaman snapped the box shut, making Dean jump. His father handed the shaman the jar and pushed Dean out of the room.

"Put it on son," John said when they were in the car.

"But Dad," Dean began.

"Put. It. On." John growled, the order easily discernible in his tone. Dean quickly complied, slipping the leather cord around his neck. "And don't take it off." John added.

"What?" Dean replied, scandalized.

"That's an order Dean."

And that was that.

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

Months later, there was a job. One in Ohio. Some ghost was possessing people and killing their relatives. Sam caught the connection between all the cases. They each had children that had been abused, and the children were the ones possessed.

However, when they went to confront and destroy the ghost, everything went downhill. The ghost, out of sheer desperation, possessed Sam. Sam couldn't remember anything besides a the earsplitting crack of a gun.

When he opened his eyes, Dean stood over him, hand out to help Sam up. Sam accepted the hand and took in the wince that Dean gave, as though helping Sam was tugging at some injury.

Then he noticed the blood.

"Oh, God Dean. Did I shoot you? I heard some gunshot, but that's all I remember. Let me see it. Do I need to take you to the hospital?" Sam babbled as the guilt flowed over him. He had a brief flashback of seeing Dean, all bloody laying there in the back seat of the Impala.

"I'm fine." Dean said shortly. Not explaining the excess blood or anything else. Sam was not so easily convinced.

After Dean took a shower, Sam, out of the corner of his eye, glanced over at Dean's shirtless torso. There was no marks marring his skin. Not even scars from the accident all those months ago and certainly no gun wound from earlier that day. And that necklace of his was still there, hanging around his neck looking brighter than it had when Dean had recovered it from the shape shifter. However, Dean caught Sam looking.

"Sam, I know I'm good looking and all, but really, I don't swing that way. AND you're my brother." Dean easily teased while he pulled a shirt on.

Sam sat there stock still for one moment before retorting, and the two brothers began to banter like usual with their coded words and hidden affection for each other.

And just like that, the would-be-wound was forgotten, along with the mysterious necklace.

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

He woke up to someone shaking him. "Dean. Dean!" a little voice hissed in his ear.

Dean reluctantly rolled over. "Sammy?" He groaned aloud. This must have been one of his nightmares. Dean had thought they were over when he hadn't had them in over two months. It seemed as though Dean was wrong.

"Dean!" Sammy cried as loud as he dared, fear of waking their father was far too great. The little ten year old hugged his brother fiercely. "Dean, never leave me, please. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want me to. Even what Dad asks! Just don't leave me," the younger boy whispered this as tears leaked from his eyes.

Dean was immediately awake as soon as he noticed that his younger brother was crying. "it'll be okay. I'm here and I'm not leaving," Dean murmured as he rocked his brother back and forth.

Finally, Sammy quieted, and Dean scooted over in his bed making room for Sammy. His brother snuggled up close to him. "What happened in your dream?"

Sam was quiet for a moment before responding in a matter of fact tone.

"You died."

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

A few months after the Ohio incident (as Sam mentally referred to it), another case came along. This one had to deal with a puppeteer who was controlling the dead. Dean had had this quiet anger about him during the entire ordeal, as if he took great personal offense to it. Sam tried to get him to talk about it, but he was met with sarcasm and blunt "leave it alone" 's.

And then they actually tackled the puppeteer.

Dean had gone in recklessly and ended up with the two getting captured. And then, the puppeteer began monologuing about what he was doing, as though he was trying to justify his actions.

He said that he was trying to allow his friends to live a bit longer, let them do what they wanted before their untimely deaths with the help of various black magicks.

"Yet, they are still zombie puppets that YOU control!" Dean exclaimed.

The puppeteer took a good long look at Dean and caught sight of the necklace that hung a round him neck. "Yes, you would know," he murmured

Dean snarled at the puppeteer and fought against the 'zombie' that held him in place. "You don't know anything about that."

The puppeteer laughed and responded with a jeer.

Dean, in a burst of surpassing strength, broke free of the puppeteer's pet. He grabbed a knife and stabbed the shocked puppeteer, ending the jeers and the dark voodoo that he had cast.

But that didn't mean that Sam hadn't forgotten the words the puppeteer spoke.

"Yes, you would know."

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

"Dean?" Sam called out in the dark.

The two boys were home alone, their father was out hunting a werewolf, and Dean had left Sam alone for over twenty minutes. That was something that Dean never did when

Dad was out. Dean was usually right there with him until came back, no matter how late.

But Dean wasn't with him.

That meant something was wrong.

Sam walked slowly into the kitchen, Dean had said that he was getting a drink for them before he had disappeared. He couldn't see anyone anywhere, so he was about to leave when he saw red rushing around the corner to the laundry room.

Sam sprinted into the laundry room to be greeted with the sight that had haunted his nightmares for weeks.

Dean lay in a pool of his own blood, too much for him to be alive, mangled and body torn to shreds by claws. Most likely by a werewolf. And his eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, glassy.

It was a nightmare come true for Sam as he scrambled to get to a phone. Dad could fix this. Dad could fix anything. He had to get Dad, right now. He couldn't let this all last too long. And by doing this, he ignored the fact that his older brother was laying on the floor in the laundry room of their most recent home. Dead. He ignored that fact.

That at seventeen years old, his brother had died.

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

"What did that puppeteer mean 'yes, you would know'?" Sam questioned as soon as the duo made it back to the latest dump of a hotel.

Dean stiffened for a moment before relaxing, immediately signaling that whatever he was about to say was most definitely a lie. "Sammy," he mock groaned. "I'm covered in zombie bits, can I at least shower before you try to bring up chick flicky moments?"

"No," Sam snarled. "Tell me what the hell is going on!"

Dean whipped around to face his brother. "He was playing with you and me, to turn us away from each other, cause descent in the ranks per say. And you're falling for it like a novice. You're out of practice, Sammy."

"It's Sam," Sam growled, angered that his brother didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth. "What the hell is going on Dean?"

"Nothing," Dean waved, gathering some clothes for his shower.

Sam sighed and placed his head in his hands. "Dean, this isn't nothing, talk to me."

Dean made his way to the bathroom door before he replied, "There's nothing to talk about Sam that already hasn't been talked about." And with that cryptic parting comment, he shut the door.
And Sam knew that that was the end of that conversation. But he simply didn't understand what his brother meant and spent a long time, sitting on his bed, mulling it over.

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

Dean woke up with a groan. He hurt, everywhere. And then he remembered grabbing a couple bottles of water, hearing a growl, glowing eyes, and pain...

All he could feel was pain and like he was being sewn back up. He pulled a hand in front of him and watched as the skin repaired itself right before his rapidly widening eyes. "Dad!" he called frantically.

John Winchester ran into the room to see his once-dead son staring at him, scared beyond words. "What's happening to me?" he asked on the verge of crying.

"You're being pieced back together, son." He stated as calmly as he could.

Dean's eyes widened. "Like a puppet?"

"Yes, son," John replied.

"Why?" Dean questioned.

John sighed and sat down on the bed next to his rapidly healing son. "Remember that necklace that I ordered you to wear?" Dean nodded, urging John to continue. "Do you remember telling me how you would die for Sammy?" Dean nodded again. "Well," John sighed. "You can now."

"What?!" Dean screeched, terrified.

"You're life is tied to his, son," John elaborated.

Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.Unknowing.Puppeteer.

It was a few days later when Dean finally cracked under the side looks and questioning glances from his younger brother. He pulled the Impala over to the side of the rode and turned to his brother. "I can't die," Dean said.

"What?" Sam incredulous asked.

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple. I can't or get hurt really bad if I'm near a family member. Yeah, I kick shot or whatever, but it heals in a few hours."

"How?" Sam managed to stutter out.

Dean looked straight ahead not making eye contact with Sam. "It came from something I said a long time ago. That's I'd give my life up for you. And I've kept that promise, many times. There is this necklace, called the Undying Amulet. It keeps a wearer alive even after they have been killed in various means or ways if they are wearing the amulet and are near a family member. There is only one, and I have it."

Suddenly, it all came together. The need to be near a family member, the lack of bruises, the miraculous recovery, and the indestructible sense his brother always had. Sam stared at his brother.

"When did you first die?" Sam asked suddenly.

Dean looked puzzled before replying. "When I was seventeen, a werewolf sliced me to pieces."

Sam looked slightly green at that note. "Is that what the puppeteer meant? You're like a living puppet because you're tied to me?"

Dean pulled the car back into gear and gruffly replied, "Do I look like Pinochio to you? No, I'd like to think I don't give people splinters and am pulled by strings. Just think of it
like this. Until you die, you're stuck with me."

"Oh goodie," Sam sarcastically replied with a grin.

The two brothers shared a look before Sam said, "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied.

And just like that all that had been hidden over the years was forgiven but not forgotten. And they were just two brothers who were saving people, hunting things, carrying out the family business. Ignoring the fact that one brother was kinda undead and had problems expressing emotions, while the other was a physic who wore his heart on his sleeve.

So, in a quacky way, they were just being normal.

Ish.

- Fin

End Notes: Yes, I know I could have dragged the angst out a bit longer, but I can't see Dean allowing it and in a way, Sam knows that his brother wanted this and it's already happened, so he can't control it.

Or at least in my mind he thinks this.

Either way, I have a challenge to issue to those who read this.

Challenge: Amulet
Write a oneshot/drabble/novel/etc about Dean pertaining to the amulet.

You must use:
1. A chick flick moment
2. Some sort of supernatural beastie

And tell me for heaven's sake if you take up this challenge so I can read your masterpiece and review!

Speaking of reviewing, please leave me your ideas on this random plot bunny.