Death Be Not Proud, Though Some Have Called Thee

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe;

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more: Death thou shalt die.

John Donne

Chapter 1

Everything since the accident had been a complete blur for Sam. The events passed without any real thought; the disappearance of the demon, calling an ambulance, getting his injuries looked at, finding his Dad in the hospital and talking to Dean's doctors. Only now – sitting, exhausted, in Dean's room and reassured that he would be fine and awake in a few hours - did Sam stop and think about what had happened.

"I'll go and get us some coffee," said John Winchester to his youngest son as he hobbled out of the room, not knowing how much it meant to Sam that he was there.

Leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and drifted into a blissfully dreamless sleep. When he awoke he glanced over at the other chair expecting to see his father, but the chairs only occupants were a cold cup of coffee and an envelope. Sam sighed sadly and reached over and picked up the letter. Hot, angry tears welled up in his eyes as he read what his father had written.

Dear Sam & Dean,

I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you. Please understand that I must kill this demon. It is too dangerous for you to help me and I don't want to see you hurt again. I want you to keep hunting to protect those who can't protect themselves, the innocents. There is one thing that I have not told you, but wish to now and that is that I have helped to train another hunter. If your paths ever cross I want you to join forces and hunt together. This hunter has knowledge and resources greater than even mine. You will know them by a small tear-shaped scar on the right hand. Again I'm so sorry.

Dad

As Sam sat pondering the note he noticed Dean stirring and turned his full attention to his brother.

"Shit! My head hurts," cursed Dean "Where am I, Sam?"

"The hospital" replied Sam dryly.

"Where is the demon?" Dean asked

"Gone and who knows where it went," answered Sam

"Where's Dad?" asked Dean, noticing the absence of the eldest Winchester.

Sam solemnly handed the letter to Dean and watched a mixture of sadness and anger pass over his face as he read it. When he had finished it was Sam's turn to ask a question: "So, what now/"

"We do as the letter says and hunt things down, protect the weak and all that jazz," replied Dean in a weary voice that revealed the toll his injuries had taken on him.

"So that's it!" exclaimed Sam angrily, "We just take his orders like good little soldiers and let him go get himself killed! No! I'm not accepting that!"

"Well you will have to. We are going to look for Dad, but he is right we have to help people too," spat Dean, returning his brother's anger in a sudden burst of energy, "We will continue hunting and searching. Maybe we will meet up with this other hunter and maybe they will have some information about getting in touch with Dad."

Sheepish look spread across Sam's face and he said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. You're right; it sounds like a good plan."

Dean smirked, "Of course it is, I thought of it didn't I"