The Hunter's Ride
Disclaimer: I own neither Ghost Rider nor Supernatural
A/N This is my first Supernatural and my first Ghost Rider fic, so please, no flames.
It's said that the West was built on legends; tall tales that help us make sense of things too great or too terrifying to believe. This is the legend of the Ghost Rider and the only supernatural hunter to ever take up the mantle. Story goes that every generation has a Ghost Rider. Some condemned soul cursed to ride the earth, hunting down perdition's fugitives and collecting on deals.
The devil, Lucifer, or Mephistopheles as some called him, had been imprisoned long ago with sixty-six seals holding him in place. He could not physically appear in man's world, but every hundred years or so, he could appear in a spirit form twice to those he deemed worthy or act through another demon. This allowed him to make deals and make Ghost Riders.
Many years ago, a Ghost Rider was sent to the village of San Venganza, to fetch a contract worth one thousand evil souls. But that contract was so powerful; he knew that if the devil ever got his hands on it, it would be enough power to break the sixty-six seals holding him in place. So, he did what no Rider has ever done before: he outran the devil himself.
The thing about legends is…sometimes they're true.
October 31, 1992
It was one of those rare nights when the Winchesters boys got to relax and go to a movie. It was Halloween Night and John had taken Dean and Sam out to see a movie they'd been dying to see the past few weeks instead of trick-or-treating. They'd decided to walk as the theater was close to the motel they were staying at.
Sam had greatly enjoyed himself as family moments like this were a rare occurrence and he'd discovered the truth of his father's job—hunting the supernatural, last December. Such a treat was like a breath of fresh air—refreshing. He and Dean were going on and on about how cool the movie had been and they'd just gone down an alley for a shortcut back to the motel when a crazy man with a gun came out.
"Wallets, money, come on fast!" he spat.
"Just take it easy," said John. While John was a hunter, he preferred not to hurt humans if he could avoid it. But of all the nights to be careless enough to go out unarmed. He handed the mugger a wallet of fake money he had for emergencies. "Here. Just take it and go."
The mugger took it, but then he wasn't finished yet as he aimed his gun at Sam. "Give me the rest or the kid goes too!"
John's nostrils flared as he took a step forward. "If you dare—"
The mugger's gun went off John was dead and then mugger turned to the boys.
"Give me your money or I'll kill the kid!" he snarled.
Dean stood protectively in front of Sam and gave the man a death glare. "Touch my brother and—"
But Dean was cut off when the man's gun went off again and the mugger fled with Dean and John's wallets.
Dean was on the ground beside John, wounded in the chest. Sam was trying to help Dean, but his efforts were fruitless.
Dean's breath was growing increasingly shallower as he took Sam's hand in his. "Sammy, it's going to be okay," he whispered. "Don't be afraid." Then Dean's eyes closed and he moved no more.
"Dean? Dean!" Sam yelled. But there was neither pulse, nor heartbeat and nor did Dean or John awaken no matter how much Sam cried or how much he shook them. They were gone and they were never coming back.
"No," he sobbed, as tears streamed down his cheeks. He buried his face in his brother's chest. They had died trying to protect him. "I'm sorry. This was my fault."
Sam continued crying until the sound of thunder startled him and then there was the sound of footsteps and he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. He looked up to see an old man in a vicar-like outfit and carrying a black cane with a silver skull on top behind him.
"Why so sad, Sam Winchester?" he asked.
Sam wiped his eyes of the tears that had fallen. "My dad and brother are gone and it's my fault. They were trying to protect me." If I hadn't been here, they'd still be alive right now. If it wasn't for me, none of this would've happened, were the words that went unspoken.
The man nodded. "What would you say if I told you I could bring them back exactly as they were with no memories of having died? Would you be willing to make a deal?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "I'd ask who and what are you and what's your price? You're not a Crossroads demon; otherwise you'd be a girl, wouldn't you?" He may have been still somewhat new to the hunters' world, but he had read quite a bit just to be on the safe side.
The stranger smirked. "I see someone's been doing their reading. No, I'm not a Crossroads demon. I'm a very special individual. I have been imprisoned for many centuries and can only appear now and then in a ghostly form to select few who I deem special. I go by many names, but for now you may call me Mephistopheles."
Mephistopheles? That was a word Sam had never heard of. He frowned. He wanted to accept the offer, he did, but there had to be a catch. There was always a catch. Sam had watched plenty of T.V., and done a lot of reading. The supernatural creatures of the world never offered their services to ordinary humans without some kind of catch, much less to hunters. And another thing, why would something make an offer to a mere child?
"Why make an offer to me?" he asked.
Mephistopheles took Sam's hand in his and smiled. "You really don't see just how valuable you are, do you, Sam Winchester? The son of a hunter with a heart such as yours and with people like your father and brother driving you and with years of training behind you, you're worth so much more than any other man alive."
Sam didn't believe he was that valuable, but he didn't say so. He was still slightly wary of this stranger. "How do I know you'll keep your word and won't find a loophole?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Dear boy, unfortunately, I am bound by my word and I am forbidden from using loopholes while in this form," he replied.
Sam gazed at him for a moment before deciding he believed Mephistopheles. "What kind of a deal do you want to make?" he asked.
Mephistopheles looked pleased. "Now we're getting somewhere. Here's my proposition: instead of taking your soul to perdition ten years hence like some ridiculous Crossroads Demon would, in nine years I would turn you into the Ghost Rider."
Sam's eyes widened and he felt scared. "What-what's a Ghost Rider?"
"My favorite creation," he explained. "You'll have the powers of hellfire, you'll be able to track down fugitives from hell and return them to where they belong. You'll be the Spirit of Vengeance. You'll walk in two worlds. Your soul will still be mine, but you'll get it back if and when I deem you fit to have it back and in all that time, you'll work for me."
Sam paused in consideration and then said, "If I do this, you have to bring my dad and Dean back exactly as they were before, wipe their memories of dying and they can't ever be taken to perdition, even if they make a deal with a Crossroads Demon. Agreed?" The last bit was just a precaution. If something happened in the future and his family got desperate, and knowing how stubborn and self-sacrificing John and Dean could be, Sam didn't want them to be rotting away in perdition for any reason whatsoever.
Mephistopheles nodded and then he held out a contract written in Latin. "Mark this with your blood and we have a deal."
Sam took out his pocket knife and pricked his finger. The blood hit the dotted line on the contract, sealing the deal.
Mephistopheles looked pleased as he took the contract back. "Your father and brother will be fine by sunrise tomorrow and will not remember dying nor will they ever be taken to hell even if they do try to make a deal. Nine years hence at midnight at this location, I'll collect on our deal, Sam Winchester. Remember that."
Sam nodded before everything went dark as Mephistopheles's dark eyes turned gold.
XXX
Sam woke up the next morning in the motel, feeling a little jumpy and groggy. For a moment, he couldn't remember anything, and then it all came rushing back to him.
Dean, Dad! Had Mephistopheles kept his word? He immediately jumped out of bed and went into the kitchen where he saw he was alone in the bedroom and he heard noises coming from the kitchen of their motel room.
Much to his surprise and uttermost relief, John and Dean were alive and well. Dad was dishing out breakfast and Dean was fiddling with his amulet Sam had given him for Christmas. It seemed like the previous night's occurrences had never happened.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Dean, as Sam sat down at the table.
"Morning," said Sam, slowly. "How're you guys?"
The innocent question was as far as Sam was willing to go. He didn't want to say much as he wasn't sure what they remembered from last night. So far it seemed like Mephistopheles had kept his word, but when dealing with dark creatures, you had to expect the unexpected and be prepared for anything.
"We're fine. Is something wrong with you, son? Excuse the expression, but you look like you've seen a ghost," said John, looking concerned.
Sam nodded. "I'm fine. I just had a bad dream, that's all. I dreamed you guys were taken from me." It was half-true, as their deaths would be nothing but a forgotten nightmare before too long, or so he hoped.
Dean stopped what he was doing and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Ah, Sammy, don't worry. Nothing is ever going to happen to us, okay? I'll always be there to protect you."
Sam just faked a smile and nodded, unwilling to show the conflict of emotions he was feeling inside. Sam knew Dean wouldn't always be able to protect him because in nine years, he'd have to leave to protect Dean and John and become the Ghost Rider. They would never know of what he had done to save them.
He was terrified at what lay ahead of him, but at the same time he was glad he'd made the deal. It was a sacrifice he would gladly pay a thousand times over.
I have ten more years with them, which is more than I deserve, he thought to himself. I'll make those ten years count as best I can.
He would enjoy them for as long as he could. It was all he could do.
