Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Soul
O'MalleytheAlleyCat
Chapter 2
It was late, just past ten o'clock, as Sam trudged down the road. He knew the field where he and Dean had been at before was only a mile or so away, but in the dark the distance seemed more intimidating and the way less clear. Sam's furious anger kept him moving forward, despite the near tangible darkness that the lightless fields around him created. The most the dark did was to keep Sam's anger in check and keep him aware and collected. He would prove them wrong and most importantly he would prove that he was good enough to meet and surpass his dad's standards.
The walk was longer than he originally thought and soon over an hour had dragged by.
Sam finally reached the beginning of the driveway to the fields and house when he saw a small light flickering in a downstairs window of the supposedly empty house. Any doubt in his theory that the person eviscerating people was a Greek magoi disappeared. As quietly as he could, Sam made his way down the driveway, stepping on the grass cushioned sides instead of on the gravel so he would be more quiet. Getting closer, Sam withdrew the gun from his bag, eyes glancing at the area where glass now decorated the ground from his shooting practice. Sam was ready for this, Sam was prepared to face a monster on his hunt.
Sam felt his hands begin to tremble with adrenaline and fear as he stepped up the porch, eyes wide and pupils dilated. He put a hand on the door and tried to soundlessly open it, but he was never that lucky. There was a loud creak as the door swung open, followed by a dull thud as it thumped into the wall. Sam winced and he tensed up, anticipating something to come jumping out at him. After minutes passed and everything remained silent, he frowned and stepped further into the house.
The light was coming from several candles set up at the four far corners of a large rectangle table. In the center of the table was a diagram and then some sticky and rancid pinkish globs, which Sam recognized as parts of the human abdominal cavity. No one appeared to be here at the moment and Sam lowered the gun slightly as he felt triumph well up in him. The markings in the diagram were definitely Greek. Sam had been right and he absolutely preened under that fact.
Stepping closer, his nose crinkled at an awful smell wafting from a bucket. Sam looked in and fought back a gag when he saw discarded remains that were festering in the bucket. He raised an arm to block the smell and cast his eyes around the room. It was empty and the candles were burned low on their wicks, it was possible that the magoi wasn't here. Sam stepped from the room that used to be the living room of the archaic two story house and stepped into the kitchen.
There was blood splattered on the sink and a few drops were trailed on the floor, but overall there was very little mess considering the carnage which lay in the sink and in a large plastic bag to the side of it on the counter. Sam's face paled and he held his hand over his mouth as he pushed down the urge to puke.
"Hello, little one."
Sam spun around, gun raised and quivering just a little as it was pointed at a tall olive skinned man standing in the doorway behind Sam. He had long hair tied back in a loose ponytail and an impressive beard which hung down in a thick dark brown braid. The man took a small step forward and Sam mirrored it with his own step back. The man reached a hand behind his back and Sam raised the gun further.
"Don't-don't do that!" Sam's voice shook even as he tried to sound intimidating.
The man smiled in amusement and brought from out behind his back a long curved knife. Sam's face filled with fear.
Dean had been enthusiastic about taking down this bitch of a ghost. According to his dad, the woman was buried in a local historical graveyard that dated back to 1799. They had arrived at the graveyard and had found her grave quickly. Dean and John took turns digging, surprised that throughout the process there were no disturbances. Dean wasn't exactly the most experienced hunter in the world, but even he was aware that ghosts tended to come out when their remains were disturbed. He had received more than enough bruises, cuts, and concussions to know that.
Their work continued and Dean was shifting through the dirt, the coffin having long ago decomposed and the body having been buried before burial vaults or cremation were generally required in funeral matters. Once the bones were revealed well enough that Dean could set fire to them, he looked anxiously up at his father. John's face was set stoically, yet there was a slight frown marring his features which indicated that he was also concerned at the ghost's lack of interference.
Dean pulled himself from the grave and they lit fire to the body once it was coated with a healthy layer of salt and gasoline. After letting it burn for five minutes, John turned toward the car.
"Dad?"
Dean kept glancing back at the grave. The ghost should have presented itself at some point, right? It wouldn't just kill others and then go down without a fight, would it? John didn't respond verbally, but he turned to his son and made a motion toward the car. Dean took the hint and got in. He looked at his dad and could see the subtle amount of anxiety on his father's face.
John said nothing and Dean was too nervous to speak aloud. They arrived back at the motel and Dean climbed out of the car, carrying the usual bag he was appointed. He pushed the motel door open, thinking about Sammy and keeping his father and his brother away from each other. Both were in a mood now and it was bound to be explosive. He frowned though when he didn't see Sam anywhere. Walking up to the bathroom door he rapped on it, just to pull his hand away as it pushed open under the force. The lights were off and Sam wasn't in the room.
Turning to run out back to the car, Dean saw his father arranging some items in the back of his truck.
"Dad!"
John looked up, worry on his face. His attention was fully on his son.
"Dad, Sammy's gone."
John straightened and shut the trunk of the truck.
"I think I know where he is," Dean said.
Sam's hand was shaking so badly, the gun was barely pointing straight.
"I'm not going to hurt you, little one, but I would like to know why you are standing in my kitchen."
The knife hadn't been raised threateningly yet, but Sam kept the gun up.
"You're a magoi," Sam managed to get out.
The man's amused smile fell away and he regarded Sam sharply. He took another step closer and Sam backed away again, his back ramming into the kitchen counter.
"Don't move!" Sam waved the gun in threat.
The man stopped moving forward, but he remained calm and seemingly unaffected by the gun in Sam's hand.
"You know what I am child?"
Sam nodded his head, glaring fiercely. "You use human entrails to receive information about stuff. It's bad magic."
The man nodded.
"Yes, child, I do."
"I'm not a child!" Sam yelled as the man took another step forward.
He was close enough to reach Sam. Sam pulled the trigger three times, aim unnecessary when the magoi was so close. The bullets struck the magoi, but he appeared unaffected and he grabbed Sam's arm and twisted it behind his back, the gun clattering to the ground. Sam tried to struggle, but the magoi wrapped his arm around him and twisted his arm further causing Sam to cry out in pain.
"You know more than most, but you do not know the power of the soul."
He wrenched Sam from the kitchen, carrying him in a painful hold to the front room where the table with the entrails was. He proceeded to tie Sam up, trussing him in such a way that Sam could barely move no matter how much he struggled against his restraints.
"I will use you, child. You are a gift from the Gods sent to complete my transmigration and keep sustained both my life and my soul."
Sam stared in wide eyed fear as the man began cleaning the table of the entrails and blood, talking conversationally to Sam as if he wasn't about to gut Sam alive.
"The soul, you see, child, is very powerful. It is capable of surviving nearly anything and is the only power which can provoke the greatest of beings. It contains the essence of a person, their conscience, and, most importantly, the memories which make a person. The mind, or brain, may contain the memory but it does not contain the emotion and ability to comprehend the memory like the soul can."
The table was now cleared and the man was washing it down with a strange soap that smelled like nothing he was familiar with. A weird blend of spices and floral tones.
"The soul," the man said with a knowing glance at Sam, "is unbelievably powerful. You can't even begin to imagine the possibilities it offers. I must bore you with my ranting, though, child. These arts I practice aren't as appreciated as they once were."
Sam still struggled against the well tied rope, terror ripping through him. He wished Dean was there. His big brother could fix this with a cocky grin of triumph and a reminder that no one is allowed to mess with his family. His dad, too. No matter how rocky or strained their relationship became, he knew that his dad would always watch out for him. Tears were winding their way down his face and his wrists were beginning to chafe and bleed from his thrashing.
"Calm, child. You hurt only yourself with your struggles. It will be painful, but I must have you awake and alive for the process or else the sight I receive will not be as clear."
The man had finished cleaning the table and went over to Sam, gently lifting him up in a mocking cradle of safety.
"Your sacrifice will be greatly appreciated."
He laid Sam on the table and began tying him spread eagle, wrists and ankles bound by rope to small thick metal loops, ones from a local hardware store, that had been screwed into the table. Sam immediately began struggling again, but the magoi placed a hand on Sam's chest, setting a small bag next to Sam and saying a few quick words. Sam's body froze and he went limp, unable to move anything but his head.
"What did you do?" He asked, voice barely a ragged whisper. He was all out crying, vision impeded.
"I can't have you struggling little one."
"Please, please don't do this."
Sam was begging, the fear of what was about to happen all encompassing. He wanted Dean so bad. He wanted his big brother to be here and for his dad to kill the monster and make everything better. He took back needing to prove anything. He had been right, but he'd been wrong, too. So very wrong.
"Please," Sam was sobbing.
"Shh. Shh." The man smiled down at him, gently stroking his cheek. Sam leaned away from the unwanted comfort.
Sam watched in horror as the man lifted the curved knife and began to cut away his shirt. Sam tried to hold back his tears, he wanted to be brave. Dean said that Winchesters were always brave. He wanted to be brave.
"It will not last long child."
Sam clenched his eyes shut as the knife descended. The crunch of gravel from outside and the flashing of headlights stopped the descent of the knife, centimeters away from breaking his skin. The magoi looked up and Sam opened his eyes, daring to hope. The magoi was deathly still, the knife in his hand and his eyes looking cat-like out the window. There was the crunching of gravel and Sam heard his brother's voice. He couldn't help his muffled sob of relief. The magoi noticed and his gaze sharpened.
He stepped away from Sam, the knife raised again. Sam let out a loud scream, knowing he needed to warn his family. The magoi quickly moved toward Sam, back handing him hard with inhuman strength. Sam's head snapped to the side and he accidentally bit into his cheek, sending a flood of thick tangy blood into his mouth. The damage was already done though and the magoi seemed to know it. Dashing toward a bag in the corner of the room he began searching through it.
Sam could hear the sound of the front door being busted off its hinges and the cry of his brother saying his name. Sam had let his eyes slide shut, sure that his family would save him. He didn't anticipate the cool feel of a blade on his throat.
"He is precious to you, no?"
Sam blinked languidly, the knock to his head by the magoi leaving his head hurting and heavy and his mind left feeling fuzzy. He saw his father standing tensely with a gun raised and pointed at the magoi. Dean was just a step behind, gun also raised.
"Sammy!" Dean began to surge forward but halted as the knife dug into Sam's skin and he let out a small whimper.
His head hurt and his wrists hurt and he couldn't think straight. His family was so close.
"Dean," he called out weakly. The knife pressed down again and more blood came out.
Dean looked like he was in physical pain having to restrain himself from going to Sam's side. John also looked quite tense, real fear showing through for one of the only times Sam could recall.
"I will slit his throat if you move again."
No one moved except Sam who looked pleadingly at his father.
"Daddy."
John's face twitched in agony. Sam only used that word when he was very ill or hurt. It had stopped being used regularly when Sam had turned nine. The magoi was watching the three carefully, eyes narrowed and calculating.
"Let him go, please. I'll stay with you, just let him go."
"Dad!" Dean said in response to his fathers request.
The magoi considered the statement.
"That won't be necessary. For now, Sam will learn exactly how important the soul is. But he was chosen and given to me, I will oblige the Gods and use their gift as a sacrifice."
Both John and Dean's eyes widened in fear at the statement, Dean starting forward. The magoi meanwhile had been preparing something during the tense standoff between him and the Winchesters. He suddenly threw out his other hand, one which had been clandestinely hidden under the table. In it was something that flashed bright, blinding Dean and John. He shouted some words and a thrum of magic went through the room, hitting Dean and John and sending them to the floor. The magoi dashed away after that, running out of the house.
Sam watched through thickly lidded eyes at the retreating back of the magoi and then turned his head to look at his brother and father. Whatever had knocked them down seemed to be impermanent and they were already rising. He felt the pull of unconsciousness, but he fought to keep his eyes open. Sam needed to know that his family was alright. Dean was standing, a strangely confused look on his face and John was now approaching Sam. The words he was speaking were muddled and distant and Sam found himself unable to stay awake any longer. A moment later his eyes slid shut and with it everything.
Sam awoke on a hotel bed, warm and comfortable, but strangely positioned in the middle and missing the familiar dent of where his brother had slept. He shifted, trying to prop himself upright but a sudden pain lanced through his head and he flopped back down, eyes shut tight.
"He's awake." It was Dean speaking but the usual relief and joy he would've expressed wasn't there. It was merely a general statement, as if his little brother hadn't almost been killed.
"Dean?" Sam said, voice slightly hoarse.
Sam's eyes blinked open again saw his dad standing over him, face emotionless. This was a usual sight, if a little hurtful, however Dean was also reticent. Dean never covered up his fear, care, love, anything he felt for Sam; Sam was his little brother. It was strange and for some reason nearly brought tears to Sam's eyes again.
"Dad?"
Dean frowned in confusion, casting John a questioning glance while John stayed quiet.
"I'm John Winchester, this is my son Dean."
Sam stared in absolute confusion at his dad's statement. Of course he knew that, he was Sam Winchester.
"Dad, what's going on?"
Dean was now staring warily at Sam, as though he could be a threat. Dean had never looked at Sam like that before. Sam felt tears coming again, pooling up in his eyes and he looked at Dean imploringly.
"Dean?"
"Dad, how does he know us?"
John shook his head at Dean's quietly asked question. Sam, meanwhile, was becoming extremely frustrated and upset.
"That's not funny Dean! You know me!"
Dean looked slightly worried and John's brow furrowed at Sam's outburst.
"I'm Sam! I'm your little brother!" Sam was screaming now, raised on the bed and tears pouring down his face.
"Kid, you need to calm down." Dean was talking but it just upset Sam more.
Dean put out a hand, but Sam scrambled away from it, tumbling from the bed to the floor. His head protested the movement and his stomach responded by squeezing and Sam was then vomiting onto the floor. He was trembling and crying and he had no idea what was going on. Sam closed his eyes and curled up, head pounding.
"Dean, help the kid up and back onto the bed. We need to find his parents once we've talked to him about the witch."
"I thought there weren't any missing persons reports filed. This kid isn't from here."
John let out a soft hum in response and Sam heard the soft sound of steps as John walked across to the desk in the room. A hand was gently laid on his head and Sam leaned into it, knowing it was Dean.
"Hey, kid, you need to get up and back in the bed, alright?"
Sam was exhausted, but he was reminded of the situation he was in. Dean usually would've just lifted Sam, carefully cradling him before setting him on the bed. Whatever the magoi had done, it had changed his family. Sam rolled and pushed up weakly, Dean grabbed his arm and carefully, but distantly, helped him back to the bed. Sam was terrified, however he was more tired than scared. Within moments, he was once again unconscious.
His second time waking was much less disorienting, and as Sam became aware, he noticed the sound of soft voices by the other bed. His father and brother were conversing.
"Why would he say that dad? I heard him, he said he was my little brother." Dean sounded genuinely upset.
John let out a soft sigh. "I don't know Dean, right now we need to figure out what or who that was and what they were doing. This isn't a pontianak like I originally thought."
"Do you think it's true?"
"True?" John responded in confusion.
"He said he was my little brother."
There was a beat of silence and Sam strained to hear more even though the two were just a few feet away.
"No Dean, that would take an immense amount of power to alter memories like that. I think he may just be lying, he's terrified and so far it looks like he doesn't have anybody."
"Why would he lie to be in our family?" Dean asked with a derisive snort.
There was another pause and John answered in a serious voice.
"He doesn't have anyone, Dean."
Dean didn't respond and the silence stretched on, interrupted only by the occasional shuffle of papers. Then
"We have food for you, kid. You can eat, and then we need to talk to you."
Sam blushed as he realized that his dad had noticed that he was awake. It seemed that despite John not remembering Sam as his son, he did remember how to tell when Sam was fake sleeping. Rolling over, Sam ducked his head, avoiding the gaze of Dean.
"Oh, okay."
John brought over a brown take out box that had shepherds pie from the local diner.
"Here, kid."
Sam looked at the food and shot his father a glum look.
"My name's Sam."
John's eyes lit with amusement and slight annoyance.
"Okay, Sam."
Sam glanced at his dad again before setting into the food, he hadn't realized before how hungry he was. John let him eat a little while before he began speaking.
"I need you to tell me as much about what happened as possible."
Sam stopped eating and set the spoon down, face paling as he recalled what had happened.
"He's a magoi."
John's brow raised. Sam shrugged.
"It's a Greek witch of sorts. They use divination."
John nodded and Sam found it interesting how his father listened better when he didn't know who Sam was then when Sam was his thirteen year old son.
"He said something about souls. Well, he said a lot about souls. How powerful they are. Things like that."
Sam began eating again.
"Where's your family?"
It was a blunt question and made Sam avert his eyes.
"I already told you, you're my family."
John let out a deep breath.
"Finish telling me about the rest of what happened."
Dean was sitting at the table, intent as he watched the question and answer session between Sam and John.
"I told you, you're my family. We came here looking for a monster that eviscerates people. You thought it was a pontianak and I thought it was a magoi. You didn't listen, so I tried to hunt it down myself. He tied me to the table and that's when you guys came in. He did this weird magic light thing which made you guys forget everything."
John nodded, not verbally disagreeing with Sam, but Sam could see in his eyes that John didn't believe everything Sam had said.
"I really am your son. Mary Winchester is my mother and she died November 2nd, 1983. I was six months old."
John's eyes did widen at that, but he remained calm, not saying anything but now fixing Sam with a piercing and contemplative stare. Dean, on the other hand, had gone white, eyes wide with shock.
"Dad, how did-"
"Dean," John cut Dean off with that short word and the tone of his voice.
"How do you know that?"
Sam glared angrily, no one was believing him. "I told you, I'm your son."
John's lips pursed and he gave a terse nod. Keeping his eyes on Sam, he motioned for Dean to follow him outside. Sam knew what his dad was going to do, because John had always convened with Dean away from Sam on certain topics and his dad always only moved a foot from the door. Sam was out of the bed once the door clicked shut and had his ear pressed to the door so he could hear their harried conversation. He was torn between frustration that his only family members didn't remember who he was and the urge to break down because he wasn't sure that this was something that could be fixed. If it couldn't be fixed, then they would try to get rid of him like just another victim on just another hunt. There was too much at stake.
"How does he know that, Dad!? He shouldn't know that!"
"I don't know exactly Dean, but I think he may be psychic. It would explain why the magoi called him special."
"How can a psychic know all that?"
"Some are more powerful than others. For now though we're going to keep him with us, he may be useful in taking down this magoi, and in the meantime it will give me some time to figure out what to do with him. I can try to get a last name, but I have a feeling he doesn't have anybody."
Sam knew that the conversation was coming to an end so he scrambled away from the door, missing Dean's response. Sam had a feeling that he wasn't going to convince his family of anything. Not when he hadn't been able to convince his dad the monster was a magoi even when his dad knew Sam was his son. For now, he needed to work with them to figure out what the magoi had done so that he could fix it. John and Dean stepped back in a few moments later, Dean looking stricken and John quite serious.
"We're going to need your help, Sam."
Sam nodded at his father's statement, committed to fixing this because he was terrified of what would happen if he didn't.
