Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. You really are the best. Thank you Gredelina1 for helping and supporting me, and thank you all for the overwhelming response to the Prologue. I loved seeing so many new names joining me and some old familiar friends. I am so grateful to you all.
Dear, Guest - sorry I don't have a name for you - thank you so much for the prompt. I am so glad you posted it as this story has been an adventure to write
Chapter One
The light touched the floor and reached for the ceiling, and Dean's heart beat faster in his chest. He had known this kid was dangerous, and now he was spitting out cracks in reality. That was awesome. And Sam actually thought he could be saved!
The light rippled and began to spread, and Sam sucked in a breath beside him. "Dean… Mom!"
"No!" he said harshly. Of course, Sam would come to that conclusion. Why wouldn't he accept that their mother was dead? There was no way Lucifer would have let her live after what she'd done. He had punched her heart out or torn off her head, or something else equally cruel and hopefully fast. There was no Mary to save anymore. It was Jack's evil coming out. "It's a trap. It's him trying to stick you there, too."
The light spread and the place beyond was revealed. It was the world they'd been to before –the apocalypse world. It was daylight there, though it was night on this side, just like before.
Sam made towards the rift, as if he was actually going to throw himself through it. Dean yanked him back with a shout. "No!"
"This is it, Dean!" Sam said, his voice wrecked. "We can get her back."
But they couldn't. All Sam was going to do by going through that rift was get himself trapped, too, and Dean could not handle that. He had been through too much already, lost too much: their mom, Castiel. He couldn't lose Sam, too. He was the only thing left Dean had to even try to hang on for.
He looked between Sam's desperate face and the wasteland and he shook his head briskly. If it was the only way to stop Sam going through, he would do it. Maybe he would find something to convince Sam that Mary was dead. Maybe he'd be killed himself. Maybe he'd be trapped there. Whichever it was, it was better than letting Sam go in there.
He pointed a finger at Jack. "Watch him, Sam! Do not let him close it!"
He gripped Sam's arm for a moment in what would possibly, probably, be his last contact with him and then he let go and ran at the hole. He slipped through with a swoop in his stomach and his feet met grit and dusty gravel.
He heard Sam's muffled shout of his name behind him, and he cursed. If Sam was smart, he would stay back there and keep an eye on Satan Junior, make sure he kept the way open for him to come back. That was the right thing to do, but Sam didn't always do the right thing, the sensible thing. His heart sometimes ruled him instead of his head. If it did this time, he was going to screw them all over, because Jack wouldn't keep the door open when it would get rid of both Sam and Dean: the man that hated him and had threatened to kill him, and the other that played the role of Jiminy Cricket, telling him that he could be saved from his fate to destroy the world and probably annoying him.
Dean breathed in a mouthful of dust and coughed. He had forgotten just how desolate this place was. His eyes roved the landscape quickly; he wondered where to even start, when he noticed footprints in the dirt. There were three distinct sets of impressions. Two sets looked like heavy boots, widely spaced apart and large enough that he was sure they belonged to men. The third set was closer together and smaller. They had a square heel separate to the main sole. Dean felt a flicker of hope in his chest. They looked like they could belong to the boots his mother had worn. They could be old and Mary dead, but they were clear, and he thought the low wind would have erased them if they had been more than a couple of hours old. There was a chance, the smallest chance, that she was still alive.
They led across his path and he ran toward them, following their direction to the left. He didn't know how long he would have before the rift was closed, but it surely wasn't going to be long enough for him to be cautious. He ran fast, his breath coming in pants that tickled his throat, up a hill of small rocks and sand, and then he stopped dead as he saw what was below him. His mother, miraculously alive, was with Lucifer and another man. Mary was sitting on a boulder, rubbing her calves as if they pained her. Lucifer and the other man were facing away, but Mary saw him at once. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, then she made a frantic movement with her hands. The message was clear: run, get away. Dean could not obey. He gestured for her to come to him, and then skidded back out of sight when Lucifer began to turn toward him.
"Where are you going Mary?" he asked.
"I need the restroom," she said.
"Again? I don't think you do. I think you want to see our visitor. I know you're there," Lucifer said in an amused voice. "Come out and play."
Knowing there was no evading the archangel, Dean walked forward until he stood atop the hill.
Lucifer laughed. "Dean? How did you get here?"
"Took a cab," Dean said.
Mary stood and walked towards him. Her arms were outstretched and her eyes disbelieving, but Dean thought there was more to her movements than an offered embrace at their reunion. He thought she was being smart.
"Who is that?" the unknown man asked.
"That? That, Michael, is Dean Winchester," Lucifer said, making no movement to follow Mary. "He was supposed to be your vessel in my world."
"Supposed to be?" Michael asked. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"He never actually gave it up to you. He was a stubborn ape. I was the only one that actually achieved my true vessel."
"Yeah? And how'd that end for you?" Dean asked.
"Not well," Lucifer admitted.
"I like the vessel I have better," Michael said.
"Me too," Lucifer said. "Seems much more emotionally stable."
Dean ignored them as Mary was still coming slowly towards him, staggering up the hill. "Dean?" she said wonderingly, just a few feet from him now.
Dean reached out a hand to her, and as soon as she took it, he dragged her into a run. They skidded and stumbled down the hill and pelted along the path of Dean's fresh footprints. He glanced back, sure that Michael and Lucifer would be following, but they weren't. They seemed amused. "There's nowhere to run, Dean," Lucifer sang.
"Come on!" Dean rasped. "Faster!"
He put on a burst of speed and Mary kept pace with him. Suddenly her hand jerked in his as a rushing sound approached. "Left!" she shouted.
Dean dropped her hand and threw himself to the left. It was just in time as a ball of blue-white fiery light slammed into the place they had just been. Dust exploded up and rained down on them. Dean took less than a second to scramble to his feet and make sure Mary was up, too, before setting off at a run. Dean saw it then; the door was still there. Through it he could see a glimpse of the hall in the bunker.
"Run, Mom!" he shouted.
There was a rushing sound as another attack came, and Dean veered to the left again. It hit behind them, and he forced himself to keep going. When they were close enough to the door to touch it, he grabbed his mother's hand and gripped it tightly as he threw himself at the hole. He flew through it and collided hard with the solid floor on the bunker. There was a rushing sound behind him and he glanced back; another ball of grace was coming. The door was already closing though, and before it could hit, the rift was closed with Dean and Mary on the right side.
Dean felt giddy with relief. He had done it. His mother was back, impossibly alive. Thank God for Sam's faith. Had he not been determined to go through, Dean wouldn't have, and they would probably never have gotten her back.
He got to his feet and helped Mary to stand, steadying her as she looked around. He could feel the smile stretching across his face as he said, "Look who's here, Sammy." He looked around, searching for his brother, and realized he wasn't there. His smile faded. "Where's Sam?"
Jack swallowed hard, looking terrified. "I don't know."
Dean dropped Mary's hand and took slow, menacing steps toward Jack. "Where is my brother?"
"I don't know," he said again. "There was another door. A hand came out and grabbed Sam. It dragged him into the hole. I think…" He sucked in a breath. "I think he's gone."
Dean shook his head. "No, he isn't." He looked around and shouted, "Sam! Sammy! This isn't funny!" It was Sam's idea of a joke. The bastard was getting his own back on Dean for what had happened recently. He was hiding somewhere. It had to be.
"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I didn't mean…"
"Sam!" Dean bellowed, rushing into the library and looking around. He truly expected Sam to be there, smiling at Dean's panic maybe, or taking a moment to get a hold of himself before he saw Mary. He wasn't though. The library was hatefully empty.
Mary rushed in after him and added her voice to Dean's. "Sam?"
Jack trailed in after them. "I'm sorry, Dean."
Dean pointed a finger at him in accusation. "Shut your mouth!"
Jack paid him no attention as he babbled on. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
Mary rounded on him, her face burning with anger. "What did you do to my son?"
"There was another door. He got pulled through."
"Pulled through by what?" she asked.
"I don't know. This hand. It was light, like fire, but white."
Dean raked a hand through his hair. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Sam wasn't gone. He couldn't be when they had just gotten their mother back. This was supposed to be the good part, dammit! They were supposed to have a chance together, to scrape their lives together again and mourn Castiel in peace.
"Sam!" he shouted.
Mary gripped a bookcase as if steadying herself and said, "I don't think he's here, Dean. I think he's really gone."
"No! No, no, no, he's not!"
Mary nodded. "He's not here. He would never ignore you like this. He would come."
Dean rounded on Jack. "What did you do to him? Is he hurt and stowed somewhere? Tell me what you did, or I swear I will end you now!"
Jack's hands fisted at his sides. "I didn't hurt him. He was taken away."
"You're lying!" Dean bellowed. "Show me where you put him!"
Jack closed his eyes and when they opened, they were gold. Dean felt no fear at the show of power, not even when Mary took his arm and tried to pull him back. Then Dean saw the same light that had opened the door pass Jack's lips and float towards him. Dean didn't move, refusing to be quailed, and the light rushed toward his face. His eyes were momentarily blinded by a golden glow and then a clear image flooded his mind. He seemed to be looking through someone else's eyes, as the view changed as they looked around. Sam was there, staring into the rift Dean had entered. His face was taut with anticipation, but there was a small smile playing on his lips. He was leaning forward on the balls of his feet. There was a second rift, but this one hadn't opened wide. It was just a flare of light. As Dean watched through the eyes that flickered between the two rifts and his brother, Sam cried out. The eyes snapped to him as the hand created of light grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the light. With a look of horror, Sam disappeared.
"Stop!" Dean shouted. He couldn't bear to see more. The image receded from his mind and he covered his mouth with a hand, not able to process what he had seen.
"Dean?" Mary said tentatively. "What is it?"
Dean lowered his hand slowly and spoke in a broken voice. "I saw it. This hand grabbed him and dragged him through." He raised his eyes to meet his mother's. "He's really gone."
His misery communicated to her, and she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his shoulder. Dean felt her shaking, and it took him a minute to realize the shaking was him transferring onto her. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, ashamed of his weakness but so grateful that she was there to provide comfort.
She pulled back and Dean saw her eyes were wet and her face smeared with tears. She held his face in her hand and wiped at it with her thumbs, catching his own tears and sweeping them away. "We'll get him back," she said.
"How?" Dean asked. "There could be a million worlds through that rift. We have no idea which one he was dragged into."
She released him and wiped her own tears away then turned on Jack. "Who are you?"
"I'm Jack."
"He's Lucifer's damn kid," Dean said.
Mary nodded. "And you opened these doors?"
He nodded. "Yes, but I didn't mean to."
"You will this time," she said harshly. "Get my son back."
Jack shook his head, his face twisted with misery. "I don't know how. I didn't mean to do it. I got upset and there was this feeling in my chest. Sam told me to breath it out, and I did. I don't feel it anymore."
"You're not even upset!" Dean said accusingly. "You have trapped him God knows where, and you're not upset. Sam was the one that believed in you. He thought you were good. The only person on earth that wouldn't want you dead is gone, and you don't even care! I knew you weren't human, but I thought you'd at least have some emotion."
"I am upset," Jack said. "I didn't mean to do it, and I feel bad, my chest aches, but I don't feel the same pressure as before. It's different now."
Dean turned away from the creature. He was furious and wanted to attack, but he knew it would do nothing but hurt him and maybe get him and his mother blasted into a wall. He couldn't let her be hurt.
"I'm sorry," Jack said.
Dean turned to him and spoke through gritted teeth. "Do you really think that makes a damn bit of difference? Do you think we even believe you? You did this to him. Do you know what took him? I do! I saw it, and I know what this means!"
"What is it, Dean?" Mary asked.
"A damn angel!" he said. "That was grace that reached for him. Hell, he could be trapped with some alternate Lucifer again, and unless this son-of-a-bitch gets his head out of his ass and feels something again, he's trapped there forever." He turned to Jack. "Your damned father probably has him again, and you have no idea what he did to him last time! He drove him out of his mind. Sam was tortured for almost two centuries, and it ruined him. You might have done that to him again! I knew you were an evil bastard, but I didn't think you'd do this to the only one that seems to give a damn about you."
"I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I was trying so hard to keep it open for you. I wanted to help."
"You failed," Dean said cuttingly. "You killed Cas and your mom, and now Sam."
Jack winced. Dean guessed it was the mention of his mother that had upset him.
"Sam isn't dead," Mary said angrily.
"No, maybe not yet," Dean agreed. "But if it's Lucifer that has him, he's worse than dead. And there's no Castiel to save him this time."
"Castiel," Jack breathed.
"Yes, the other poor bastard you got killed. Remember him?"
"Castiel," he said again.
Dean waved a hand at him. "Get away from me. Go to your room, go anywhere, just make sure I don't see your damn face."
Jack turned and walked away; his head was bowed and shoulders slumped. Dean watched him, feeling nothing but loathing for the creature. As Jack turned the corner, Dean heard him saying Castiel's name again. Sure, that was the one he'd cling to, the one that he mind-fucked into helping him, not Sam who had been trying to help him and got banished to what was probably a new kind of hell for him.
Mary tugged Dean's hand. "Come on. We need a drink. Then we can get to work on finding a way to get Sam back.
Dean wished he had her faith. He knew there was no way to even start to get Sam back unless Jack tapped into whatever it was inside of him that enabled him to open those rifts. Then they had to find the right one among the millions that were probably there.
And all the time, Sam was surely suffering, needing them to get him back.
In the infinite darkness, Castiel lay on the cold floor, sleeping what was supposed to be an endless sleep. He was perfectly at peace, until he heard something whisper his name. He opened him eyes and looked into the darkness all around him. He didn't know where he was or what had happened, he just knew he was needed.
He stood and brushed his hands down himself, feeling the solid body beneath his clothes, though he felt almost disconnected from it. He started walking and then froze as he heard the voice again.
"Castiel."
It was one word, three simple syllables, but it brought something to life in his chest. He knew, without understanding how, that he was needed.
He had to get back.
So… Where do you think Sam has ended up? Throw your ideas at me before the next chapter when we'll find out.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx