Pinocchio
In the days when witches were more than a novelty, new-age trend and when curses and legends walked hand in hand, an amulet was crafted by the most powerful of craftsmen.
It was a work of love, a piece of art, designed for good and protection. It fell into the wrong hands.
King Solomon was a good man, but a man he was still. Grown weary of attending court every single day, he sought to escape his duties if only for a little while. He had fought for his people; he had struggled his whole life.
He was a tired old man who wanted nothing more than to enjoy the peace and quiet that he'd bled so hard to achieve. Instead, every day he had to deal with petty quibbles of bad neighbors; sour complaints of bad parents and even worse sons; foul pleads from vicious hearted people.
He loved his people. Loved them enough to not cancel the court sessions that the good people of Israel seemed to crave so much.
The amulet was forged by his command; the amulet was his solution to have the best of both worlds.
And in secret, he gave orders for a replica of himself to be put together of the finest lamb wool that the kingdom had.
~~SHARPTEETH~~
Dean died the first time when he was twelve. It is the only death of the many he experienced that he has no recollection of ever happening. Mainly because, it didn't happen to him.
It was the most stupid thing ever. John was busy putting gas in the Impala, in a middle of nowhere gas station somewhere across the Nebraska state line. Given that restrooms in such places where not well known for their cleanliness nor were small boys known for their carefulness when using them, John had sent Dean across the road to watch over Sam while the eight year old took a leak.
For the rest of his days, John would never forgive himself for protecting his kids from a nasty infection rather than protect them from some dumb ass driver who carelessly ran over his boys on that desolate, dusty road.
Dean was dead even before his broken body hit the ground. Sam was in a coma for fifteen days.
~~SHARPTEETH~~
The supernatural tales and legends surrounding King Solomon were well known amongst the hunting community. Protection rings from demons, summoning rituals, exorcisms and the amulet. Solomon's magic amulet.
Legend said that, on occasion, Solomon had used a golden amulet around his neck. And during those occasions, it was whispered around the corners that he was often seen in two places at once.
Bobby had a theory about that. When Dean was lying cold in the hospital's morgue and Sam slept, John pleaded and menaced and guilt tripped the older man until he agreed to put that theory to the test.
In the remote parts of Louisiana, where the marshes aren't poisoned and voodoo is still a family tradition, John met with a voodoo priestess named Antoniette and asked her for a favor that he paid for in blood.
Antoniette, known for her craftsmanship in dolls and sewing, made John the biggest doll she had ever worked on. Her instructions where precise: a life-size twelve year old boy with brown sandy hair, green eyes and a dust of freckles all over. It was the most beautiful and life like doll that Mambo Antoniette had ever made and she loved it so much that instead of a cloth heart, she decided to put one made of gold.
When Bobby made the ritual and John finally set the amulet around the human-size doll, the result was immediate and everything that a grieving father could hope for.
In front of him was a perfect copy of his lost son. Breathing.
Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Like a Pinocchio brought to life, he was all flesh and blood. A real boy.
The replica was so perfect that John could even see the same deep love and devotion of before in this Dean's green eyes.
When Sam finally woke up, he had no recollection of what had happened. For him, it was still two weeks before Christmas, even though he'd slept through the festive season. It was only too easy to plant in both boys the idea that Sam had given the amulet to his brother as a Christmas gift. It was only expected that Dean would never remove it from his neck as long as he was alive.
John never told either of his boys what he'd done; he made Bobby swear that he would do the same. Not long after that, distracted by how life-like this Dean was, both men had forgotten all about that terrible day so long ago. This was Dean now, and the first one was just a sorrow and distant pain in both their hearts.
This version of Dean would be fine just as long as he never removed the golden piece from around his neck. As far as the ritual went, he would even be fine without it for twenty-four hours. Any longer than that, and he was back to being the beautiful cloth doll that a voodoo priestess had sewed.
No one had expected an angel to come and convince Dean to part with his most precious possession.
Dean gave Castiel his amulet, reluctantly, but unable to not give the angel's quest for God all the chances he could get.
The Winchesters left Bobby in his hospital room, the older man too depressed and focused on his dead legs to remember the terrible thing that had just happened in front of his eyes.
Sam and Dean went to bed as flesh and blood brothers. Only Sam woke up the same.
In the bed beside his, where Dean had fallen sleep in his clothes again, stood a sewed doll, burlap cloth with red thread linking arms to chest, chest to legs, neck to head. In place of eyes, there were two green buttons and for a mouth, there was nothing but a thick red line.
Sam blinked, but he wasn't asleep anymore. He rubbed his eyes raw, but the sight remained the same. Where once was Dean, there was nothing more than a sawdust doll.
A doll with a golden heart and dead eyes.
The end
AN: This short short was written for the Sharp Teeth comment meme for SPN horror stories. The inspiration came from an old Twilight Zone episode where a woman finds out that she's actually a shop mannequin brought to life. The awesome Jackfan2 handled the beta work. All remaining mistakes are mine.
