Alright, this is my new fanfiction. Updating will be random, but I'll try not to let it sit any longer than ten days at a time. However, I have no guarantees as I am, in fact, a high school student. I do, however, have a good record of finishing what I have started, so you won't regret reading this, even if it is a WIP. I'm really excited with all the plans I have for this story and I have the feeling you'll all enjoy it.
Dean sat up in a cold sweat, breath forcing its way in and out of her lungs rapidly as her eyes scanned the darkened room. Her hands clutched and grasped at the blankets, pulling them closer to her body.
Blankets offered no protection against the nightmares, but they were a small comfort.
Dean's nightmares had been coming more and more frequently over the last couple of months. Ever since her seventh birthday, they had seemed to take on a crisp new edge of realism that frightened her. Her usual dreams offered some edge of peace, a blurry sort of "looking through the veil" kind of feeling. These, did not feel like that.
Recently, her dreams had turned to fire and torture, hooks digging into her flesh as a voice that was too deep to be her own screamed out Sammy's name. Although the voice was deep and the muscles too large and the chest too flat, Dean knew that she and the man with the hooks were one in the same. What she couldn't quite seem to wrap her mind around was how.
That wasn't the worst part, though. Some of the dreams from here had taken a creative twist, something a seven year old shouldn't have been coming up with. In some of her visions, the knife was in her own hands. The screaming wasn't coming from her, but it was still there. Oh, it was always still there.
She squinted in the dark, attempting to look at her own palms. A part of her wanted to get up and turn the lights on, but she didn't want to wake up Sammy. Sammy had seemed so tired lately.
Dean moved aside the curtain covering the window, allowing a pale streak of moonlight to wash over her hands. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw that they were blood-free. The nightmare of tearing and ripping into someone else's flesh, the terrible screams that just kept coming and coming, the sweat that poured off of her brow as she admitted to a disembodied voice that she liked it...
She took a shaky breath, allowing the curtain to close. Her in those dreams wasn't really her. She just had to keep chanting that to herself, over and over and over again... Because if she had another anxiety attack, mommy would have to take her back to the therapist. The therapist only told Dean that something was wrong with her, and she was sick of hearing that.
She forced her breathing to slow, sinking down in the bed.
She almost let out a loud groan as she saw hair dangling over the bunk. Sam's head slowly revealed itself as she hung over the side of the bunk bed, something that their mother had warned her time and time again not to do. Dean had woken up Sam now, great.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up Sammy. Please go back to sleep." She whispered. Sammy shook her head no, closing her eyes as she did. Dean felt a small flash of hope in her chest, but she stuffed it down.
"You had another bad dream." Sam said, opening her eyes again. Dean knew that it would be futile to lie to her sister. So, she nodded her head. "Do you want me to sleep with you?"
Dean's hope was, in fact, correct. Against their parent's orders, Sam had been climbing into bed with Dean every night after she woke up. They never really got in trouble for it, so Sam couldn't be bothered to care about what they said. Still, Dean never asked. She only let it happen when Sam offered.
"If you want to." She said. Sam rolled her eyes, and made a small sound of exasperation as she heaved herself back up into her own bed. Once she was there, Dean heard the shuffling of blankets as Sam grabbed her favourite stuffed animal and made her way to the ladder, slowly sliding down.
Dean scooted over once Sam was there, lifting up her blankets. The room felt too cold to her heated skin, and she was grateful that Sam always seemed to run hotter than the air. She wrapped her arms around her younger sister and planted a small kiss to Sammy's head in thanks. Sammy was such a good sister to her.
"Will you tell me about what you dream, someday?" Sam asked. This question, as it always had, caused Dean to flinch.
"Maybe someday when you're older." Dean promised. She knew that Sam, as curious as she was, was not satisfied with the answer. But Sam just hummed in response, snuggling closer to her under the covers.
Some of the dreams were good, of course. But it seemed like the good ones only came with Sammy nestled up against her.
The doctors came to talk to them, about a month later.
Well really, they went to go and talk to the doctors. Dean didn't know who they were or why they wanted to stab Sammy so many times with needles, but from what she could gather, they thought Sammy might be sick. It made Dean upset to think of her sister that way. Especially since she knew how annoying colds were.
"Mom, when we get home will you fix Sammy chicken noodle soup?" Dean questioned, looking up to her mother with wide, innocent eyes. Her mother frowned, as if she had said something wrong.
"Chicken noodle soup isn't going to help Sammy. She isn't the same kind of sick that you were, Dean. Sammy is much, much sicker than that." She said. Dean could see her mom trying to hold back tears, and she didn't like it one little bit. She shook her head back and forth.
"Why? Is Sammy gonna throw up?" She questioned. Her mother and father both shared a look before her mother answered, and it made Dean feel out of the loop. She wanted to know everything that the grown-ups knew. It made her upset that she didn't.
"No, not right now, Sammy's not. Sammy is going to be very very tired for a little while, though. We aren't sure what's wrong with her, but as soon as we find out, we'll let you know. Okay?" She asked. Dean wasn't quite satisfied with the answer, but she knew better than to continue on about it. Besides, one of the doctors had just opened the door, and Sammy was back.
"Dean, come and kiss my wrist!" Sammy exclaimed, holding it out. "They poked me again."
Dean ran over to her sister, grabbing her wrist and placing small kisses all over it. Sammy giggled and pushed her away, smiling at Dean like she was the sun. Just for a minute, Dean could forget that Sammy was sick, because Sammy was smiling and happy, and how could she really be unhealthy?
Sam and Dean loved more than anything to play in the forest across the street from their house. There were meadows and fields and tall trees to climb, all of which Dean had tried to climb or had to save Sammy from at one point or another. There was something therapeutic about being out in the woods with Sam. It made everything else go away, until it was just the two of them.
Which is why, when Sammy told Dean that she was too tired to play after school today, Dean started to be worried.
Dean had noticed that Sam had been taking longer and longer to follow after her. She had to stop and wait for Sam to catch up while they hiked, had to hold her sister's hands while she climbed over logs, to make sure that she didn't trip. Sam had bruises more and more often, from her knees hitting the ground after she stumbled.
"You're too tired to come and play?" Dean questioned, trying to keep the pout out of her voice. Sam shook her head yes, slinging her school books down as if they carried the weight of the world. Dean couldn't help but flinch at the sound.
"I need to take a nap. Tell mom and dad to wake me up when it's time for dinner." She requested, her words almost getting cut off by a loud yawn. Dean nodded her head, watching silently as Sam went back into their shared bedroom. All she could think about was how Sam hated naps, and how maybe she was sick after all.
Dean walked through the forest by herself that day. Things just didn't seem as exciting or wonderful or new without Sam there, and her heart panged every time she would see an animal, remembering how Sam's face used to light up from it.
When she came home for dinner, mom and dad were talking in hushed voices in the kitchen, gesturing towards their room. Dean didn't bother to listen, knowing that they were talking about Sammy.
She pushed their room door open, finding Sammy asleep in her own bed. Dean smiled at the sight of Sammy pulling her covers over her shoulders. Something about it just felt right. It was better than Sammy being in her own bed, because it made Dean feel like Sammy belonged with her. It made her feel like Sammy was never going to leave.
She dragged her out to eat dinner an hour later, ignoring their parent's sharp looks towards each other, the glares of contempt. When she saw that Sammy was uncomfortable, she reached under the table and grabbed her sister's hand, giving it a small squeeze.
That night, her dreams were more vivid than they had ever been before.
~~~~~ Ancient Japan, Year Unknown~~~~~~~
Dean wasn't the easiest with words. People tended to talk to Sam.
Of course, that didn't stop them from remarking on how beautiful she was. It was one of the things that annoyed her most. Sure, she had long, silky black hair and green eyes that were rare to find along with her pale complexion, but they didn't all have to stare like that. It felt like everywhere she went, eyes were on her and Sam. Sam, who, in her opinion, deserved far more praise than her.
What was the most frustrating about all of this was the fact that nobody would freaking propose, to either of them.
No matter how many wealthy and handsome lords came through their towns, clearly a good match for a woman from a middle-class upbringing, they would take one look at the other and turn tail and run. Dean was good at stitching. Dean was good at singing. Sam was great at storytelling. For some reason, though, nobody wanted either of them.
It wasn't even so much that Dean wanted somebody to propose to her, as much as she was concerned about why they weren't. Usually, a woman of her age would have received at least four proposals, and taken one. Dean had watched all of her friends leave the village one by one, nestled neatly onto the horses of their new husbands. She missed them all terribly.
She was too close to Sam to say yes. It seemed like it was a silly reason, sure, but her and Sam had been together from the moment they had been born. They were twins, (though far from identical) and nobody had tried to separate them yet, not once. Dean was grateful for it.
Of course, she couldn't help but be wary. Things like this didn't usually happen to people. Life was not this forgiving, and people were not this kind. Every day that something didn't happen to try and tear her away from her sister, she worried that it was going to be even worse when it did come. There was no way they could stay together, and whatever was going to happen was going to happen.
Dean almost wished it would hurry up and get over with.
"Dean, Dean!" A voice cried out, from her right. Her friend was panting and carrying her high-heeled shoes above her head, in a very uncharacteristic move. Dean narrowed her eyes as she approached.
There seemed to be a hint of blue sparkling behind those deep-brown eyes.
Dean had been noticing this more and more in the people she talked to. They would seem a little...different. Many of them would preform kind acts that she had never seen them do before, some of them would gently slip their hand into hers. Dean couldn't really put her finger on it, but something just felt a little more... complete, when eyes flickered to blue. It was comforting in the oddest ways.
Dean had several theories, actually. The most insane, (yet the most plausible amongst them) was that a god had picked her out specially to befriend. It seemed ludicrous to Dean; yet people had this odd kind of shuffle and moved like there was more weight on their back, always the same characteristics when they met. None of the people ever remembered their conversations or kind deeds once they were done, and many described what they had done at the time as a blur. Dean hadn't told anyone.
Clearly, this was either a god, or a *kitsune. Both could be good or bad, and she knew that her people wouldn't take to having one so close to her kindly. It probably didn't help that she had a reputation as a trouble maker, so people scarcely liked to believe what she said.
"Hello, Yuri, how are you today?" She questioned, keeping things polite. As usual with the spirit, Yuri stood just a little too close. Dean struggled with herself, as she always did, trying to decide whether or not to tell the spirit that she knew what it was. As always, her logical side won out, and she kept her mouth shut.
If a spirit was going to make kind gestures and had chosen to befriend her, who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? It was best to just not say anything, and keep the secret close to her heart.
"I am doing well, thank you." Yuri said, again uncharacteristic. Dean nodded her head thoughtfully, and she saw that brilliant blue flicker through once more. "You and Sam are well? Are you preparing offerings for the gods?" She questioned, peering into the basket. Her voice was uncharacteristically flat, her question oddly blunt for her cheery personality.
"We are. Yes, I'm taking these fruits to the altar. Would you like to come with me?" Dean offered, not wanting to let the spirit go. Whoever or whatever it was, Dean enjoyed it's company. The power that sizzled through the air when it was around was admittedly frightening, but Dean found herself placing a certain level of trust in the thing.
"I would enjoy that, yes. But I can't stay long." Yuri said, nodding her head. Dean smiled and grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the path that lead to the altars.
The walk was short and quiet, but there was something calming about the spirit being close.
When they stopped by the oak tree and Dean laid down the basket, she knew that the spirit was pleased.
"Have you and Sam spoken about marriage arrangements yet?" Yuri questioned, pleasantly. Dean turned, eyebrows pulling together in faux surprise. Of course the spirit would assume they were marrying someone; they were about the right age to begin childbearing.
"Why no, neither of us have been proposed to. Are you quite feeling well, Yuri?" Dean questioned, teasingly pressing the back of her hand to Yuri's head. Yuri went cross-eyed trying to look at her hand, and Dean let out a loud laugh, moving it from her head. This spirit had many endearing qualities, that was for certain.
"Well, I assumed you would be marrying each other." She responded, flatly. Dean laughed again, finding the notion ridiculous. They were sisters, certainly not intended to wed. The spirit continued to look confused.
"No, not as far as I know." Dean said, looking down to the ground. This was vaguely confusing; why would a spirit ask something like that? Dean could never envision leaving behind her sister for a man, nor could she see herself being with anyone other than Sam permanently, but marrying Sam? No matter how appealing the thought seemed to her, she was certain that not many would approve.
"Why not? Are twins not born of starcrossed lovers?" The spirit questioned. At this, Dean had to pause.
"What do you mean?" She questioned.
"According to legend, twins are born of starcrossed lovers, from a past life. That's why nobody has tried to split you and Sam up. No man would dare infringe upon two people whom the gods themselves gave another life so that they may be together. Are you and Sam so sheltered that none dared to tell you?" She asked, all the while keeping her head tilted to the side.
Suddenly, it all made so much sense. So that's why nobody had attempted to win either of them over! It wasn't because they were unappealing, or they were undesired, but rather because they knew that both of their hearts belonged to another.
And really, Dean had known she loved Sam for awhile now. This small affirmation, no matter how seemingly insignificant, meant everything to her. Maybe, her and Sam would get married. If the gods willed it, it would be done. And here, having what may be an actual god in front of her, well, she couldn't argue with that now, could she?
"No, nobody had. Thank you for informing me." Dean said, stepping forward to hug her. She froze up at the touch, and Dean assumed that the diety didn't get much affection aside from when they held hands. It felt nice to give it to someone, even if this particular someone wasn't Sam. "I think Sam will be pleased with the explanation."
"Any time. You're my friend, and I couldn't leave you in the dark." The spirit replied. Then, suddenly, it stilled. Dean unwrapped her arms from the other's shoulders and took a step back, concerned with the sudden rigidity. This wasn't surprise, this was fear.
"I have to go now. I will talk to you later. Tell Sam I said hello." She said, promptly. Dean nodded, understanding. Spirits probably had lots to do. Spirits, gods, kitsunes, whatever this thing was.
Dean turned back to the altar, and as soon as she did, there was the sound of wings from behind her. She turned back suddenly, startled.
She expected to see her friend, but she was alone in the woods.
* Kitsune in actual Japanese culture are demons that can be either good or bad, not the killing machines they are in Supernatural.
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