Reflecting Light
By: Maygin
Summary: Part 3 in the Lights Out Series. Dean and Sam are headed north with no clear destination in mind.
Blah-blah Section: I forgot to give mention in Pt 2 to Bayre for being my wonderful Beta in this series! This is just another small snippet. Part 4 is going to be a bit longer and should be coming out in a couple weeks. Thanks!
"There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." -Edith Wharton
The quiet clicking of the player announced its intention of switching to the other side, playing the same songs over for the third time. The first time was after Sam decided he'd had enough of the current selection and made Dean switch the music out. The second time it repeated was intentional on Dean's part, Sam had fallen asleep and Dean knew swapping the tape out would cause unnecessary noise, possibly waking his brother. The third time the tape repeated itself was not because of any annoyances or brotherly politeness, rather the tape repeated itself to an empty car, driver and passenger side doors laid open carelessly, exposing the belly of the black car to the darkness beyond.
An hour earlier
Dean rubbed a fist into his left eye, trying to squash out the droopy need to close them. Sam didn't bother hiding his inspection of Dean's actions, in fact, he made it a point to watch hard enough that Dean would feel it.
"Ready to let me drive?" Sam asked with raised brow.
"Nope," Dean grunted, returning his hand to the wheel.
"You'd rather just fall asleep at the wheel and kill us both?" Sam made the question sound so annoyingly casual.
"Yeah, about that," Dean shifted in his seat, "what's the punishment these days for accidentally killing an angel?"
Sam shook his head, turning to look out his window. "Whatever man, I'm not the one with an unnatural fear of Dick Van Dyke."
"It's not unnatural, Sam," Dean turned a pointed look to Sam. "Who the hell smiles that much? Or that big?" Dean gripped the wheel tighter, sitting up straight. "I'm tellin' ya, that dude snacks on kiddies when no one's looking."
"And what does that have to do with me not driving?" Sam asked and then snorted knowingly, "Oh, that's right. You think me having wings is going to somehow turn your car into some kind of flying machine."
"Do you know for certain it won't?" Dean asked.
"Seriously?" Sam gave his brother the I'm questioning your sanity look. "You really wanna compare Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to our situation?"
"All myths start somewhere," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulder.
"You're unbelievable."
"Which is why they gave you the wings Sammy-boy." Dean gave a short grin. "The next town's about twenty miles. We'll stop there for the night. Does that please his holiness?" Dean turned his head to his right. "Sam?"
But Sam wasn't listening, he was staring out his window, a frown on his face. "Stop the car."
"What?"
Sam didn't answer him a second time, instead his hand gripped the door handle and suddenly Sam was out the door.
"SAM!" Dean made a grab for him but only got air as he slammed on the brakes, his mind trying to remember if he'd been going seventy or eighty miles and hour, it made a difference, right? Dean fishtailed the car to the side of the road and turned, full body, in his seat in time to see Sam drop to one knee on the ground, white wings spread out to full span behind him, the light of the full moon almost making them look surreal, glowing.
Dean allowed himself a moment to remind his lungs what breathing felt like and to check and make sure he hadn't just wet his pants before he was scrambling out of the car, shaking. He was mad. He was madder than mad. Dean was furious. "Sam!" He yelled, jogging toward him.
Sam didn't even look at Dean; he pushed off from the ground and was running, across the small bank of roadside grass and into the heavy forest surrounding them. Dean slowed only a second before turning back, grabbing his extra hand gun from the glove compartment and giving chase after his brother.
"Sam!" Dean called into the dark woods. He'd been able to track his brother by the pale glow of his wings only until those had gone from sight, from there, he'd tracked Sam by sound alone. But Sam's footsteps had suddenly gone silent on him. Dean evened his breathing and listened. The full moon had lit his path for the most part, but that too had been blotted out as the trees thickened. "Sam?"
"Dean!"
Dean whirled around, Sam's voice distantly calling from his right. He flipped the safety off his gun and ran in that direction. "Sam!"
Dean fell to the ground hard as something full-body slammed him, moist dirt pressing against his face, in-between his fingers, the gun bouncing out of his grip. He rolled to his back and recoiled as an elfin face, twisted and dark, sneered at him, mouth opening unnaturally wide, showing off layers of sharp teeth and roaring like a freight train. The creature, tall and gangly with sharp talons filled Dean's view as it descended on him. Dean barely had a moment to blink when glowing white replaced the creature in front of him.
Sam dropped nearly on top of Dean, blocking the creature. The thing swiped out with its claws but Sam rolled to the side, shoving the creature away from where Dean lay with wide eyes. From there, Dean couldn't keep track of his brother and the creature, they sprinted, rolled, leapt from tree branch to ground, darted back and forth, baiting and striking. Dean could hardly catch sight of the camouflaged creature at all, his only point of reference being Sam's wings that furled and unfurled by the second.
Dean suddenly remembered his gun and scrambled around for it. He stumbled back a few feet, whirling around when the creature landed behind him with a loud thump. The thing screamed in fury but was suddenly cut silent as something blinding swept across its neck, severing the head from body that dropped to the ground with a hollow thud. Behind the creature stood Sam, wings at full span, a sword blazing with blue-white fire, in hand, and looking every part the avenging angel.
In a swift, precise move, Sam swung the fiery blade up and then down into the chest cavity of the creature. The torso of the corpse flared with inner fire that quickly spread to the rest of the body, even the head laying a few feet away.
Dean was motionless and brain dead. "Wendigo," he muttered.
Sam looked at him suddenly, the blue-white flame of his weapon dissipating to nothing before Dean's eyes. Sam's wings pulled in against his back and the forest grew slightly darker.
"You okay?" Sam asked, almost as if waking up, dropping down next to Dean with concerned eyes.
"Sam?"
Sam gripped his shoulders with worry. "What's wrong?"
"Was that a fucking Wendigo?" Dean blurted, gathering his senses.
Sam shoulders drooped suddenly in relief, letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes. "Yes, it was Wendigo," he said flatly. "Are you hurt?"
Dean ignored Sam's question, pushing to his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes. "How did you know?"
"I don't know," Sam sighed, standing as well. "You know that wasn't me calling for you, right?"
"Gee, really?" Dean sneered and then gave his brother a good, hard shove. "And what the hell were you thinking jumping out of the car like that?!"
"I don't know," Sam said a bit quieter, ducking his head. "I'm sorry, I…"
"You what?!" Dean wasn't done yelling, gesturing wildly to keep from throwing his fist at a certain someone. "I mean, have you completely lost it?! What the hell kind of idiot-thumb-sucking moron jumps out of a vehicle going seventy miles an hour in the middle of the night?!" Dean shoved him again, hard, his anger swelled beyond his limits, "Answer me!"
"I'm sorry, alright?!" Sam finally yelled back, only with a touch of helpless desperation as he stumbled to stay on his feet. "I don't know how to control it! Sometimes things just come out of me, I say things, or- or I do things! And I can't control it and I have no idea what the fuck's wrong with me!" Sam's tirade finally ended, and the brothers stood facing one another, breathing heavily, a standoff of anger, both burning off the last of their adrenaline.
Dean jerked his head toward Sam. "'Lemme see the sword again."
Sam blinked, taking a moment to try and follow his brother's sudden change of mood and conversation; it was difficult at the best of times. "What?"
"The flaming sword thingy," Dean rolled his hand in the air, all traces of anger gone. "Let's see it."
"I-" Sam lifted his hands, huffing a short breath at them before dropping them again. "I don't know how."
"Where did it come from?"
"I don't know."
"Well where'd you get it?"
"Dean-" Sam broke off helplessly, exasperated.
"What?" Dean asked innocently? "Was it like a package deal? Wings, sword and a lovely stay in the luxurious light of the galaxy all for small price of your humanity?"
Sam balked, wide eyed. "You're unbelievable."
"That's what she said." Dean grinned devilishly, all teeth.
Sam made a face at his brother. "Seriously?" Sam shifted his stance. "That's it?"
"She never says that."
"Dean!"
"You mind putting those things away?" Dean turned, spotted his gun reflecting the soft glow of his brother's wings, and swiped it up, brushing it off and stuffing it in his jeans. "Someone else might've been out here hunting for this thing," Dean gestured to what was left of the Wendigo's burnt corpse with a pointed look.
Sam pressed his lips together and closed his eyes briefly until the wings disappeared, the night pressing in around them. Then Sam was catching up with Dean.
"Know where you're going?" Sam asked, a step behind Dean.
"Not a clue," Dean said, unconcerned. "You?"
Sam watched his brother's barely visible silhouette a moment as he followed. "I really don't," he answered softly.
Dean didn't pause to look at Sam, he knew. "Well, we'll get there… wherever there is," he said confidently. "But for now," Dean stopped by a tree, knelt on the ground and ran his hands around the trunk, "we improvise."
"We're feeling up trees now?" Sam smirked. Dean couldn't see it, but he could always hear it.
"Aw Sammy," Dean sighed happily, "you and your kinks."
"What are you doing?" Sam ignored the comment, still grinning.
Dean stood and walked to another tree, repeating the process. "The road we were on was headed northeast." Dean walked a few feet and knelt by another tree. "You ran southeast." Dean smiled proudly as his fingers brushed over something spongy along one side of the trunk. "And according to this very accommodating patch of moss here," Dean stood brushing his hands off on his jeans. "North is that way," he pointed even if Sam couldn't quite see it, he'd still follow.
"Wow, look at you, Boy Scout."
"Boy Scout's get the babes," Dean said proudly, heading confidently at an easy pace back the direction they came.
"I thought you said bad asses get the babes."
"It's all fine print," Dean waved him off. "In the end Dean's still the one rockin' their beds at night."
"Nice, Dean," Sam said flatly.
Dean waited for it, the perfect amount of time before grinning wickedly. "That's what she said."
THE END