CROSSING LINES
Jo Mason pulled into the parking lot of what she hoped was a decent motel. They had been on the road for a little better than a week and the last few rooms had left a lot to be desired. Her skin still crawled, thinking about the stained covered mattress at the last room they had rented.
Turning her head, she smiled fondly at the man sleeping in the passenger's seat, his six-foot frame almost folded in on top of himself in the tiny compact. Should've rented a larger car, she mused silently. As the man groaned softly, Jo laid a comforting hand on the back of his neck. She didn't even have to strain to make out the words any more; she already knew what he was saying.
Over the past six months that they had shared a bed, there was never a night that Colt didn't murmur the same words in his sleep. Dean. Sam. It was theses very names, accompanied by the dreams, that had brought them to Lawrence in the first place.
Lightly fingering the ends of the dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck, Jo sighed. It was time to wake him, find a room and then… And then, she didn't really know. The dreams were of Lawrence, Kansas, that much she and Colt were able to figure out. But the why or what still remained a mystery.
Leaning over, she pressed her lips to Colt's temple and whispered, "Colt, we're here."
Colt groaned and slowly opened his eyes, stretching; he smiled at the woman beside him. "That didn't take long."
Jo shoved him playfully before opening the door. "Not for you, you slept the whole way."
Rubbing a hand over his weary features, Colt took note that the stubble had now grown to a mass of whiskers, no longer a five o'clock shadow. He opened the door and eased himself out of the car, then looked over the roof and smirked at he woman. "Thinking I should just grow a beard. What do you think?"
Jo leaned into the back of the vehicle, and snatched up her purse lying on the back seat and chuckled softly. "Just try it, Colt. It wouldn't be the first time I shaved you in your sleep."
Rounding the car, Colt wrapped his arms around Jo's petite frame and nuzzled her neck playfully, allowing the new growth to rub the sensitive skin.
"Stop!" the woman said with a squeal of laughter. "Grab our bags; I'll go get us a room."
Watching her walk away, Colt continued to smile. He didn't know what he ever did to get a woman like her, but he knew he'd never let her go.
-0-
Refreshed from their showers, the couple found themselves back in the car, driving aimlessly along the roads of Lawrence. They had no definite address. Hell, they didn't even know if Colt's dreams were anything more than just that - dreams.
Clearing her throat, Jo glanced at the man in the passenger seat. He had the sketchpad in his lap, furiously drawing lines and bringing an image to life. The man's face leapt from the pages, and once again, Joleen found herself thinking Colt had to have been an artist in his past life. The life they were chasing now.
Fear and apprehension found its way into her mind. What if she was taking Colt to his past just to lose him to a family he didn't remember? What if these were the last days they would spend in each other's company? With a great deal of control, she kept the tears at bay; Colt didn't need her insecurities added to his burden. Instead, she thought of the day she met the bear of a man.
Joleen sighed as she laid the phone receiver into its cradle. She had already worked three hours past her shift, and it didn't look like it was ending anytime soon. Quickly moving to the emergency doors, she waited for the ambulance to arrive.
The man they were bringing had been found passed out on the streets. When he came to in the ambulance he was incoherent and confused, lashing out at the paramedics until they finally had to sedate him. They hadn't found any signs of injury, but in his current frame of mind, it was deemed that for his own safety and the safety of others he be brought into the hospital psyche ward. Jo's ward.
Seeing the ambulance, Jo opened the doors and rushed out to offer her help if it was needed. Many patients in a fractured state didn't stay sedated as long as hoped, and if he was violent, her aid may be required. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, she could hear shouting from the back.
The man sounded panicked, enraged. "No! I'm not supposed to be here. This is wrong! Something is wrong!"
As the stretcher was pulled out and the wheels touched the tarmac, Jo rushed to the man. He was a burly man, approximately six feet, and muscular. His face was covered with a gruff salt and pepper beard; his dark eyes stared out accusingly. Beneath his dark, grey-flecked hair, his brow was covered in sweat from the exertion of trying to pull free.
Fighting the restraints, his eyes wide in fear. "NO! No! Why? Why am I here?"
"Sir," Joleen spoke softly in a calming tone. "You need to calm down… Can you tell me your name? Sir?"
The man went limp and he stared blankly at the woman. She could see him searching inside himself for the answer. His dark eyes becoming alarmed. "I- I don't know who I am," he rasped fearfully.
Jo laid a comforting hand on the man's shoulder as she walked along with the moving stretcher. "It's okay. I'll help you." She promised.
That was back in September. September Twenty-fourth to be exact, the night her life changed - for the better.
Colt had calmed after a few days of rest, and was released as an outpatient. His amnesia still had to be dealt with.
He had been her patient at first; she had helped him try to put together a life in the present while tracking his past. Somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with the sensitive artist and had to remove herself from his case. From there they had explored their feelings for each other, knowing full well that upon the return of his memories, what they had could be shattered.
Colt never regained his memories, just the fleeting glimpses he caught in his dreams. Brief images of a house - a house that brought mixed emotion to the man. It had taken her a long time to convince him to take this step. He just wanted to continue his life as Jonathan Colt and forget that he may have been someone else.
"Penny for your thoughts," Colt murmured.
"What? Oh, just thinking about where we should go from here." she answered with a sad smile.
Reaching across the space between them, Colt wrapped her hand in his. "I'm scared too." His eyes suddenly grew wide. "Stop! Stop the car," he shouted.
Slamming her foot on the brake, she brought the vehicle to a full stop before turning her head to see what Colt was staring at. There across the street, sat the house she had seen so many times in Colt's drawings. It was real.
Colt fumbled for the door latch keeping his eyes on the white two-story for fear it would disappear. If the house was real, then so were the young men he dreamt about.
-O-
"Tell me again why we're goin' back there?" Dean questioned, his knuckles turning white as he held the steering wheel in a death grip.
"Jenny called Missouri. Apparently, some guy was at her house the other day, and she said he behaved strangely. It wasn't until he had left that she realized she recognized him." Sam answered in monotone.
"Right, recognized him from the pictures she gave us." Dean sniped. "C'mon Sam, that was like four years ago. She couldn't possibly remember a face she had seen in a photo once or twice."
"Dean, I don't know what's going on, okay? She recognized the man as…" Sam paused, struggling to get the word to leave his mouth. "She said it looked like Dad. That's why she called Missouri; she was worried that he may have shown up because something might be back in the house."
"Sam, this is crazy! Dad's dead." Dean snapped.
"You think I don't know that?" Sam huffed. "I was there Dean. I was right beside you while his body burned to ashes."
Dean blew out an aggravated puff of air. "Well, we need gas."
He pulled into the service station, parking the car alongside the pumps he got out and glanced at Sam. "Fill 'er up Sammy. I'll go grab some coffee. You want anything?"
"Just coffee," Sam replied.
Just as Dean reached the door, it was pushed open and a woman carrying two cups of coffee walked through, bumping into him. The cups slipped from her fingers as she stared at the man in front of her, her heart beating a solo to make a heavy metal drummer proud. "Its you…"
Dean had reached out a steadying hand to the woman, and was looking at the coffee that had sprayed from the cups and now lay across his boots. At the woman's words, he brought his head up quickly. "Excuse me?"
Jo stared into the green eyes of the man in front of her, then trailed her gaze across his face. Tears stung her eyes as she looked over his shoulder, looking at his companion. She knew that the other man would have shaggy hair, wind blown and unruly. The details such as eye and hair colour had always been left to her imagination, now she knew. There was no doubt in her mind.
They had to be the ones Colt dreamed about. And by the undeniable resemblance, they had to be his sons.
She had suspected that the man Colt was before had a family, now she was staring into the face of proof. Clearing her throat, she asked timidly. "Are you Sam or Dean?"
"Dean," the elder hunter responded cautiously before looking over his shoulder to catch his brother's eye.
Sam saw the silent look, and immediately went to Dean's side. Something was up.
Joleen smiled as tears threaten to spill from her eyes. "You're Sam then."
Puzzled, Sam nodded. "Do you know us?"
"No," She answered. "But I think I sort of know your father."
-0-
Dean paced the motel room, his agitation building with each passing second. He could hear the shower running as Sam got ready for their meeting with their dad. Strike that, the man that everyone thought was their Dad. He ran a hand through his short hair, still damp from his own shower. It had to be a demon, or a shape shifter. Whatever it was, it wasn't his father.
"Dean," the soft timber came from behind him.
Whirling around Dean found Castiel standing near the door. "A little busy today Cas, come back tomorrow."
"Dean, you must not do this. You must not meet with this man." Castiel murmured.
"What? Do you know something about this?" Dean demanded stalking towards the angel.
"I only just found out myself. And I am telling you, don't go through with this." the angel said emotionlessly.
"What is it, Cas?" the hunter demanded. "What is in that room, just feet away, wearing my father's skin?"
The ethereal being sighed as he gazed at Dean with a sympathetic look. "Trust me, it's better if you don't know. Leave here, leave this town. I will take care of this …problem."
Sam exited the bathroom, steam billowing from behind him. He paused as he listened to the angel's orders. "Why? You've never taken care of one of our cases before."
Castiel shifted his gaze to the younger hunter. "None of your other cases runs the risk that this one does."
"What are you saying? Is it a demon?" Dean queried. "'Cause you've left us on our own to deal with some real doozies. Alastair for instance."
"Just trust me on this," the angel replied. "Go, now."
"No. No," Sam objected crossing the room to confront the angel. "Not until you tell us what's goin' on."
Growing frustrated, Castiel's face hardened. "I am trying to help you. This is the best way that I can. Don't meet with this man. Just pack your things and go."
Shaking his head, Dean sided with his brother. "Cas. This thing is goin' around with our father's face. This Joleen chick claims he has amnesia…We know very well it's a trap, and we're going in to this prepared."
The angel sighed, his face softening. "There is nothing to prepare you for this. If you do this, you will be forced into a decision you really don't want to make. Let me do this for you. It will be painless, I promise."
Sam paled, "What are you saying, Cas? Why would you promise to make it painless? Why would you even think that mattered to us…unless…" The younger hunter trailed off, his gaze seeking his brother. What if it was really their father somehow? If they left, Castiel would kill him and they'd never know for certain.
"I have already said too much," Cas intoned. "Take my advice. I will handle the situation."
Dean looked at the angel, confused and suspicious. "What aren't you telling us?"
"If you choose to disregard my advice, there is nothing I can do to stop you," Castiel said quietly. "But I'm asking; let me do this for you. Let me help."
"This is my family, Cas," Dean muttered. "We'll handle it." The elder hunter grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and nodded at his sibling.
With Sam at his side, Dean yanked open the door stopping at the sight before him. Joleen stood in front of the door, her arms wrapped around the neck of the man she was with. His forehead was pressed against hers as he spoke in soft intimate tones. The elder Winchester brother stumbled back as the man raised his head to look at him.
"Hello," Colt said softly. He gazed intently at the man, studying his features, his eyes. Then he shifted his inspecting stare at the man hazel eyed man behind Dean. "Do you know me?"
Dean opened his mouth trying to speak, but the tightness in his throat kept him from uttering anything more than a gasp.
Seeing his brother's shock, Sam stepped forward, his face contorted into a mask of pain and anger. It looked like his father, it sounded like his father. Hell, the damn thing held himself as his father had. But their father was dead, what stood before then was some evil entity sent to knock them off guard. To trip them up, distract them from their cause.
Sam lunge at the being gripping the lapels of his coat and pulling him to face him. "Who the hell are you?"
Colt was taken by surprise; the vehemence in the young man's voice sent a shiver down his spine. Trying to pull from the younger man's grip, he eyed Sam warily. "I was hoping you could tell me."
Joleen pushed through the two men, glaring angrily at the younger man. "I didn't bring him to you for you to behave like this. So if you aren't going to be civil, we're leaving."
Colt put a hand on the woman's arm. "Jo, we don't know what or who I was…Maybe these men are entitled to their reaction. I may not be who I think I am. I could be a real ass. We knew that coming in." He turned to the Winchester boys, and nodded. "Obviously you know something about me. I'd like to know about me too, if you would care to share."
Sam was uncertain how to react; the man's reaction was not one he has expected. Casting a glance at his brother, he looked for an answer. If they chose to invite the creature in, they could be setting themselves up, but he was curious as to what the monster had planned. What he thought he would get by pretending to be their dead father.
Dean sighed and stepped back, his hand resting on the demon knife at his side. There was every chance the woman was in on the façade. It would be easier to have them confined in the room that was set up to protect them. Following behind the visitors, Dean calmly directed them to the table.
As the man and Joleen sat in the chairs, Dean smiled smugly. Getting them inside the devils trap had been easy, almost too easy. "So, what is it you think you're going to get from us?"
Becoming angry Joleen stood up, slamming her hand on the table. "I thought you would be happy to see your father again after at least eight months, apparently I was wrong. Colt, maybe this was a mistake."
"So your name is Colt then?" Dean said. Noticing the elder man was looking behind him, the green-eyed hunter turned, finding Castiel still standing where they had left him. "You're still here?"
"You will need my assistance, Dean. Of that I'm certain." The angel responded, watching the eldest Winchester with great interest.
"Maybe you should tell us what you know about yourself, and how you found us." Sam spoke, bringing the older man's attention to him.
Colt sighed, "I don't know anything about me. Eight months ago I woke up in an ambulance, I didn't know how I got there…I just had this felling of dread. A feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there." He smiled softly at the woman beside him as she took his hand to comfort him.
"It wasn't the feeling that I shouldn't be in the ambulance, more of a feeling that me - being - was wrong." Colt continued. He took a notepad from the woman's other hand, and flipped it open. "I started having dreams about a house and these boys…You. Jo thought my memories were trying to come back and that maybe I was suppressing them when awake."
He held the sketchpad out to Sam, allowing the younger man to leaf through the pages of a life Colt only knew in slumber. The pictures were easy for Sam to decipher; there was their old house, young Dean, young Sam, the impala, the Winchester brothers looking as they did now, and the Colt. Clearing the lump from his throat, he handed the book to Dean.
Colt stood up, and moved from the table. Dean stared as the burly man crossed over the devils trap as if it wasn't there. There goes the demon theory. He thought wryly.
Colt paced the floor, raking a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I've tried to make a life for myself. Got a job in a garage, apparently I have pretty good knowledge about cars. We got a nice place," he glanced at Joleen. "But no matter what I did, who I talked to…I couldn't shake this feeling that it was wrong - all of it everything. Jo figures it's because my subconscious is trying to force me to remember."
The older man stopped in front of Dean, desperation in his dark eyes. "I'm not sure I want to remember. If I want to risk losing what I have."
Castiel moved to stand in front of Colt, his eyes sad and compassionate. "You feel that way because you don't belong, John. Your very existence is an abomination to God."
Dean felt as the floor had disappeared and he was falling into oblivion. He looked at his brother hoping he had heard wrong but by the expression on Sam's face he knew he hadn't. Castiel had called the creature John. It was painfully clear the angel knew much more than he was telling.
"Cas?" Dean questioned, searching the being's blank face for answers.
Colt peered at the strange man. He hadn't seen the man before, not in his dreams, and not since Jonathan Colt had come to be eight months prior. "Do I know you? I only told you me name was Colt, I didn't mention my first was Jonathan. What do you mean an abomination?"
"Jonathan Colt?" Dean couldn't help but see the irony of the name.
Sam studied Jonathan Colt, watched his movements, his expressions and he couldn't help but wonder if this was who his father would have been if the darkness of the supernatural hadn't destroyed their lives. Swallowing he looked at the holy being standing at his brother's side. "Cas? Is- is he…"
Castiel wanted nothing more at the moment than to lie to the Winchesters. To be able to tell them the man standing within their grasp was a monster to be destroyed. However, he couldn't betray their trust. This was their burden now; they chose not to accept his offer, now the consequences had to be faced.
"Yes Samuel, he is your father." Was all the angel said. He then stood back allowing the implications of the situation to sink in.
"No, Dad is dead! We burnt his body Sam. It isn't possible." Dean turned to the angel, daring him to challenge his words.
Castiel inclined his head slightly, his eyes beseeching the elder Winchester boy to open his mind, to understand. "We don't know exactly why he was brought back. We only recently learned of his existence. We do know it was a dark power - a very strong one, that could put this into effect."
The sudden sound of hands slapping together in a mock applause brought the men's attention to the woman at the table. Smiling coldly, Joleen got to her feet and walked to the edge of the devils trap. "Very good angel," she murmured, he eyes shifting to coal black.
Dean pulled the demon-killing knife from its sheath at his side, his cautious gaze shifting between Colt and Joleen. Colt looked confused, the alarm in his eyes looked wrong - displaced to Dean.
"Joleen? What's wrong with you?" Colt asked, his voice shaking slightly.
"Joleen isn't here right now. Can I take a message?" the demon said dourly. Turning her focus on the brothers her smile broadened. "You can kill me if you want, Dean. I'm only the messenger."
"Messenger? Of what?" Sam demanded grabbing his flask of holy water.
Colt watched the scene as it played out around him. The woman he loved was different and the eyes. What was wrong with her eyes? Seeing the younger men take a threatening stance, he held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Let's not do anything rash."
"Yes boys, listen to Daddy now," the demon chortled.
Sam glared at the demon. "You said you're a messenger? What's the message?"
"Why Daddy of course," she replied matter-of-factly. "He's all yours; I'll even restore his memory if you want."
"And what do you get in return?" Dean questioned, his gaze straying to Colt. No, Dad. Even Castiel said it was.
"You call off your manhunt. You walk away and Daddy stays with you and lives a normal, long life." the dark entity replied. "It's a gift from Lillith. I'd take it if I were you. It would be better to be alive as a family than dead as one."
Castiel reached out and placed two fingers on the oldest Winchester's head, quickly pulling the older man's memories to the surface of his mind.
John Winchester gasped, staggering slightly under the emotional strain. He knew he was and still retained the memories of the past eight months. Looking at his boys, his eyes misted and a lump formed in his throat. He never thought he'd see them again, and here they were together, fighting evil. John cast a brief curious glance at the man that appeared to be an ally to his boys. A creature of sorts? Possibly a demon? Had his son's sold themselves for him?
"Dean!" he roared. "Since when do you stand around chatting with demons? Exorcise the bitch!"
Dean jolted at the familiar gruff sounding voice. "Dad?"
"Do your job, Dean," John ordered. "We can hash out the rest after it's done."
Turning his heated gaze on the girl within the trap John licked his parched lips, his heart breaking soundlessly. "How long?" he growled.
"John, how nice to have you back." she laughed coldly at his dark expression "How long have I been in sweet Joleen? Not long, hun. Since she met your fine boys at the garage. Don't worry it wasn't me you were shagging."
"Aww, did you have to say that?" Dean groused. "I'll have that image burned in my head forever now. Thanks." Dean nodded at his brother, silently telling him to begin the ritual.
"Wait, Dean," Sam said, locking eyes with the demon. "We should find out more information."
"Like what?" Dean demanded.
Sam moved closer to the demon, careful not to cross the trap. "If we kill you or send you back to hell, what happens to our father?"
"Nothing," the girl replied in wide-eyed innocence. "He'll live. As I said, I am only the messenger. If he continues to live, that means you have accepted the deal. The only way to refuse this deal is to kill him yourselves."
The room fell silent; the Winchesters stared at each other in horror. This couldn't be the plan. What kind of evil was Lillith to do something so unspeakable, forcing sons to kill their father. There had to be away around it.
Aware that the words of the demon had distressed his sons beyond thinking, John stepped forward. The Latin slipped from his lips easily, the act of the exorcism ingrained in the elder hunter's mind. John felt his throat restricting as he watched the woman twist while the demon fought to hold onto the body. When at last the demon was expelled, John crossed to the unconscious woman, scooping her into his arms.
"Let me take care of the rest, Dean," Castiel said softly.
"You want me to give you permission to kill …my Dad?" Dean asked incredulously.
John looked up at the being talking to his eldest. "What are you?"
"I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."
John snorted, shaking his head. "Dean, please tell me you weren't a taken in by this. There are no such things."
"He's what he says he is…Dad," Dean replied, fighting to push the word from his mouth. It felt unnatural, wrong.
"Because it is," Castiel responded as if he had read the hunter's mind.
"Dude, stay out of my head," Dean snapped.
Sam walked to his father, helping him stand with the woman. "Put her on my bed," the youngest Winchester murmured softly. "I think we have a lot to fill you in on. Starting with angels, and the Apocalypse."
Castiel had left the small family alone, allowing the time they needed to accept what had to be done. He had seen into the oldest Winchester's heart, he was a good man; he would be the one to convince his sons to do the right thing.
When the angel returned a few hours later, he allowed his wings to be heard, announcing his arrival to the family of hunters. He gazed around sadly at the distraught faces, and he felt their pain. The angel wished he could do something anything to ease the anguish of the young hunters.
"It is time," was all the angel said.
John had been reluctant to accept the man as an angel. The more the boys told him of their experiences, the more he found himself opening to the possibility. Dean's final story had opened a locked memory, and he gazed upon his eldest with new eyes. "You were Van Halen?" he asked, awed by the realization he had met his grown son, years before he was ever born. "You talked me into buying the Impala."
Dean smiled although his eyes were moist with tears. Looking at his family, he found he wasn't the only one. They had to find away around this. He couldn't lose his father again.
Then Castiel returned.
John stood from the table, confronting the angel. "If I live?"
"The end of the world as you know it. Accepting this…arrangement would leave your sons powerless against evil, and I would no longer be able to protect them. Lilltih would own them."
John nodded, then let his gaze fall on the sleeping woman. "Jo?"
"She will live a normal life. I can have her believe you returned to your old life. She would adjust." Castiel said softly.
"My boys?' John felt the tears as they slid down his cheeks and he didn't care. Once again, he was discussing the conditions before his death, it felt surreal.
"I will help them. Keep them on their path. Protect them when I can."
John gazed pleadingly at the angel, whispering his request so only the angel could hear.
Castiel contemplated the man's wish, and nodded solemnly. "I can. Are you certain that is what you want?" John Winchester nodded.
"Cas!" Dean cried jumping to his feet, Sam beside him. The panic in their eyes spoke volumes. They couldn't bear losing their father, not again. Not because of them. "Don't do it!"
"We can find a way around it," Sam said thickly, tears slipping from his hazel eyes.
John went to his boys, gathering them to him. "I love you. I'm proud of you, both of you," he rasped.
"No, Dad, don't do this," Dean begged through his tears. "Don't leave us again. We need you."
Sam felt the floodgates break and he sobbed, clutching his father's arm tightly. "Dean's right. We need you."
"You have each other you'll be fine." With a final look at his boys, he turned to the angel, almost choking on his words. "I'm ready."
Castiel was on them before they could blink; he glanced once more at the head of the family. "You are sure."
"Just do it," the eldest of the Winchester men affirmed.
The angel placed two fingers of each hand on the two younger men, watching as they slid bonelessly to the floor.
"They won't remember this?" John whispered.
""They won't remember," Castiel confirmed.
"Then I'm ready."
Castiel laid his hand on the older man's head…
Castiel sat on the park bench watching the children play, the sounds of their laughter soothing his fractured soul. He felt the presence, and turned his gaze to his superior.
"You were told not to interfere, Castiel." Zachariah said, gazing out at the playground.
"They are good men, Zachariah. John Winchester sacrificed himself for the cause. It only seemed fitting to do as he requested."
"Castiel, you are becoming too involved in the lives of the humans you watch."
"I am being called back then?" Castiel queried.
Zachariah shook his head, "No, but if you continue the path you have taken you will be. There are rules, orders to follow."
"I understand," Castiel responded. But Zachariah was already gone.
Castiel knew he would have many regrets in this mission, but granting John's wish that his son's forget the past few days would not be one of them. Saving them from the pain and anguish of losing their father a second time, wasn't much in view of what the Winchester family had already given to the cause.
THE END