Title: Why We Fight

Author: Kerri B.

Rating: T For violence and language. Appropriate warnings will be placed if any chapter has more than that.

Disclaimer: Until that wishing well I'm trying to find finally pans out I own nothing except for the idea for this story. Supernatural, Dean, and Sam all belong to Kripke and the CW.

Summary: There are times when we consider why our lives ended up the way they did. We think about the times we had a chance to turn that life in a different direction, wondering what would have happened. And sometimes we simply want to know why we chose the direction we did to begin with. A/N. The story isn't actually written in 1st person, I just suck at summaries. :)

Timeline: It's set directly before S1E20: Dead Man's Blood.

Prologue
June 15, 2006
Two Oaks Cemetery, Indiana

The rain sprinkled down to the rarely trodden earth below, beating the ground with a series of drips and patters as a young man knelt before a small marble stone. His jacket swayed in the wind with the grass and the trees, tugging at him like a child to his parent. The groaning cries of the oak limbs as they bent and creaked in the downpour reflected the weeping and tears that were once shed at this very spot exactly one year before.

The man ignored the surroundings though, only focused on the engraving while his thoughts wandered aimlessly through the days when things were brighter. Happier. A day when his father was still alive.

"Hi dad." He whispered reverently. "It's me, Brian."

The growling roll of thunder sounded in the distance, as if it was a greeting from the deceased man. But Brian knew it wasn't. This wasn't the Lion King where his dad would come back and pass on the infinite knowledge that was needed to continue on. No, Brett was dead and there wasn't anything that would change that.

"I just thought you should know that I've missed you." A small and unplanned tear streaked slowly down his cheek and landed on the small flower he held in his hand. "It's been a year and. . . I'm sorry that I couldn't protect Mom like you asked. I just hope she's happy up there with you."

He paused and took in a deep breath. He hadn't visited the grave-site since the funeral. It wasn't supposed to be this hard. "Um, I still have the pendant though." He carefully fingered the smooth round item that was attached to a leather cord sitting proudly around his neck. "Just like you asked Dad. I never took it off."

It was then that Brian felt a flush of anger flow through him. "You're happy now right? I mean, that was the last thing you said to me. 'Keep it with you like it's your very life.'" Another hot tear leaked from his red-rimmed eyes. "You couldn't say you were proud of me, or that you loved me or Mom. It was all about the frickin' pendant"

The before honored flower was now tossed carelessly aside and Brian glared at the grave. "Well if it's so damn important to you then you can have itཀ"

Without a second thought or a moment of reflection on what he was doing, the young man tore the amulet from his neck and threw the offending object to the ground to lay half buried in the damp soil. He stared at it for several seconds, curious as to how he had never noticed before the way it radiated a soft blue hue from the center.

He quickly crouched down to get a better look and gasped when a light mist slowly began to grow around the item.

"What the-?"

His question went unfinished as the strange bluish hazy cloud instantly flew from the pendant and into Brian's opened mouth. He didn't have time to scream or even to cry as a cold and unnatural sensation began to crawl through his entire being. There was something inside with him, overpowering his control and taking command of his senses.

His normally tan skin tone paled frighteningly until it reached a near white pallor, and his short, nearly black hair began to grow and lighten; the pigment disappearing and fading into a graying silver color. But last were his eyes.

The last thing Brian saw before falling away inside his own mind were icy blue tendrils crawling across his cornea until they reached to his iris and pupil, covering them with a blinding shield of white. And then he was gone, leaving only his mutated body behind as a suit to the being inside him. Swallowed alive by the presence inside.

All was then quiet. The thunder ceased and the wind died down. The crickets were silenced and the leaves remained still. Only the soft labored breathing of the man kneeling before the grave could be heard in the clearing.

Then the silver haired man with the glazed over ice blue eyes raised his head with a twisted grin marring his features.

He took a moment to look at the grave that lay in front of him, grinning when he saw the date of death. Izmaril must have left the body he'd been possessing that very day. At least the demon bastard had kept up on his end of the deal.

He was free. Permanently bound to this body, which, on cursory examination, seemed to be in perfect health.

He reached out and took up the recently thrown pendant and cradled it for a moment before placing it carefully around his neck.

"Ah." His voice was dripping like icicles in the beginning of spring. "It's so good to be back."

A/N: I completely made up the name Izmaril so if it has any relevance whatsoever I had no clue. I also took liberties with the date. I don't know when Dead Man's Blood would have taken place.

A/N2: Brian will not being showing up again. If it wasn't made clear already, he's dead, gone, his spirit moved on while his body stayed to be the host for the as-of-now-unknown-freaky-blue-mist-thing. (No that's not it's name, but if I revealed what it what now it would totally lose the dramatic element of suspense.) Next chapter: we get to the reason you even bothered to read this: Dean and Sam and all the brotherly love and angst it implies! -Kerri