Disclaimer: Supernatural and all related characters and past story plots belong to it's creator, Eric Kripke, his team, and Warner Brothers. I am making no profit from this story whatsoever. Dana Addleman and all original characters, however, are mine and anyone who wishes to borrow will need to ask my permission to do so.
Furthermore, I claim no ownership over the rock song used in the first scene between the brothers.
Author's Note: I am formatting this based on the show, which means that actors and creators will be mentioned in their starring roles, including casting various other actors and actresses into the roles of my original characters who will appear throughout the story. I have no clue if this violates any legal rights, so if this does get taken down because of it, I will adjust the story and repost as quickly as possible. To that end, each chapter will also flow like an episode of the series. The bad guy of the chapter will be put to rest, but there will be a long theme that covers the entire story.
I'm so sorry about the extended break. This episode was a nightmare to work out the kinks with and then I had to deal with stuff going on at work. Oi. Not to mention the stupidity that is so far Season 5. I mean, I know things usually have to get worse before they get better, but Dean has OFFICIALLY hit rock bottom. At this point, there ain't no where to go but up! Anyway, I promise to post more often from now on.
BTW, Artemis, what you said about my mind being made up, you're right. It sort of is, but I'm not telling you what the outcome is going to be. I have changed my mind about a few things since the first episode, though, but since I'm still not sure how far I'm taking this, we'll just have to see what comes of it.
So here's Episode 3. I hope you all enjoy. When you have finished reading, please click the icon at the bottom of the screen and leave a review. I'd love to hear from you. Flames are welcome and will be used to light a fire under Dean's ass (seriously, love Jensen Ackles - have since he was Eric Brady on Days of Our Lives - but not too thrilled with Dean right now).
THEN
A bright, white light shines from a circle of blood. Sam and Dean Winchester stare at it in fear, gripping each other's jackets.
"Lucifer's free… and I let him out…"
Dean opens a door to reveal an attractive blonde woman in her early thirties.
"Dean, this is Dana Addleman."
Dana's eyes widen as she realizes who she's talking to.
"You're Dean Winchester?"
Dean, Castiel, and Chuck stand on the side of the road outside a cemetery.
"…what happened to Lucifer?"
"He is out there, seeking his vessel."
"We just twiddle our thumbs while the world goes to Hell?"
Dean and Sam sit on their respective motel beds. Sam is hunched over and rigid, grasping the edge of the bed with one hand and his fingers trying to drill into his forehead with the other. He pants in pain, groaning as he slides to the floor.
"Ah! Ya – my head!"
"Sam?"
Sam continues to groan, gripping his head with both hands as Dean rushes to his side. He grabs Sam's upper arms. Sam reaches out to Dean.
"I have these nightmares... and sometimes, they come true?"
Dean stares at his brother, not sure if he's serious or not.
"Come again?"
Sam stands rigid in pain. Dean grabs his brother by the arms and supports him as Sam's legs refuse to hold him up. Both end up on the ground.
"I dreamed about Jessica's death for days before it happened."
Sam and Andy Gallagher are talking.
"You get these premonitions of people about to die?"
"Yeah."
"Dude, that sucks."
The three Winchesters talk in their room in Salvation.
"…these things happen exactly the way I see them."
"Started out as nightmares, and then they started happening while he was awake."
"It's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."
Dana watches as Dean preps his weapons bag.
"So, I heard you did some time in Hell."
"Who told you that?"
"Sam."
Dean and Ruby talk outside the Conquistador Motel.
"So all of them, every damn demon? They were all human once?"
"Every one I've ever met… Might take centuries, but sooner or later, Hell will burn away your humanity."
Dean and the demon Casey talk about higher powers.
"Lucifer's really real?"
"They say that he made us into what we are, and that he'll return."
Dean and Dana confront the demon attacking women in St. Clare, Minnesota.
"Dean Winchester and Dana Addleman… Didn't expect the two of you to be working together."
Dean and Dana argue.
"Sam unleashed Lucifer?"
"It wasn't any of your business."
"It's the Apocalypse, Dean, it's everyone's business!"
Dean gets in her face.
"You say one more thing against my brother, and I'll run you through. Ya got me?"
The demon's knife slashes Dean's arm, drawing blood and making him gasp sharply.
A cloud of black smoke rises from the cracked Earth and vanishes into the sky.
Dean is with Sam in the panic room. He wipes some blood off his little brother's lip. Dean looks around, pissed.
"I'm watching over you, Samuel."
NOW
It was never a big fishing area, but there was something about the Sanish Bay that attracted them. It was a peaceful place, great for relaxing for hours at a time. The two seasoned fishermen, both in their early fifties, came here often when they needed to restock their supplies.
One of the men looked out at the water as his friend gathered the last of their gear. "Certainly is a beautiful day, huh, Charlie?" he spoke up.
"Ah, yeah. The fish'll really be biting," laughed Charlie. "Now aren't you glad I talked ya into coming out today, Pete?"
"Conditions would've been just as good tomorrow," Pete defended.
Charlie closed the trunk. "Well, come on. Let's get fishing."
Soon they were out on the water in a rented motorboat. It hadn't taken long to find a good spot. The two men had all ready caught several fish apiece. Pete was just about to cast his line again when he saw something floating in the water next to the boat. Curious, he leaned over carefully and pulled it out of the bay. It was a dead fish, but the still slightly red coloring helped him easily identify it.
"Hey, Charlie. Look at this," said Pete as he turned to show his friend his discovery.
Charlie was just as surprised. "Holy crap, Pete. That's a red mullet, ain't it? They aren't supposed to be found anywhere near here," he said.
"I know. How do ya suppose it got here?" Pete asked.
"Beats the hell out of me," shrugged Charlie. He gazed back at his line to see if he had a bite, but what he saw instead distracted him. "What the – ?"
Pete followed his friend's look. His stomach churned uneasily at the sight.
Thousands of fish floated on the surface of the Sanish Bay. All red mullets. All dead.
It was a quiet night in town. Everyone in the residential neighborhoods was either asleep or watching the news. A young couple had just put their young toddler back to bed after a midnight feeding. Now they retired to their room and prepared to turn in.
That's when the neighbor's dog started howling.
"That's odd. Pebbles hardly ever barks," said the wife, perplexed.
"Probably saw a shadow or something," her husband said with a shrug.
The couple climbed into bed and turned off the lights. Five minutes later, Pebbles was still howling, and two more dogs had joined her. Another three howls joined them bringing the total up to six.
"What's up with them?" asked the husband as the baby started crying in the other room.
"Don't know," said his wife. She got up and put on her robe before leaving the room. "I'd say they sound like coyotes, but there's no moon tonight."
The husband stood up and went to the window. Everything looked so normal. He couldn't see what could be upsetting the dogs.
The six dogs were soon joined by others and even more after that. It didn't matter how many angry neighbors shouted at each other to keep their pets quiet or how many complaints were received by the police department. It wasn't long before every dog in town was awake and howling. They carried on well past midnight, their howls echoing throught the night. The new moon was out that night, so only the stars could twinkle in response to the hounds.
Blood splatters across the screen, quickly fading to form the words.
SUPERNATURAL
Static makes the words flicker and eventually fade.
The back roads were always empty and deserted, which was how Dean preferred it. He could drive however he wanted without worrying about being pulled over. He also didn't have to worry about careless drivers who could potentially hurt his baby.
ONCE YOU LOSE YOUR HEART
The 1967 Chevy Impala made it's way down the road. The state line was coming up, and as much as Dean liked spending time at the Singer Salvage Yard, he couldn't wait to get out of South Dakota.
It had been a long five months. Sam had spent most of May and June locked up in the panic room, which was longer than cold turkey should have been. But it hadn't been cold turkey. Someone was still giving Sam demon blood from inside the panic room. Dean was almost sure it was an angel, but there was no way to know for sure. All he ever saw was the red on his brother's lips. He'd tried to call Castiel, but the angel never responded, and Dean nearly ended up with laryngitis after three straight nights of shouting himself hoarse. Over time, it seemed to be happening less frequently and then it stopped all together. It was clear that someone had intervened in order to wean the younger Winchester off the addiction, despite what both brothers had wanted.
And then there were the constant calls from Dana Addleman. She kept coming up with new information on recovering addicts. All of her recommendations had been followed to the letter as soon as Sam was able to leave the panic room. The five months had been spent hunt-free for two reasons: to ensure a limited risk of accidentally stumbling on a demon before Sam was ready, and to provide him with as little stress as possible.
Finally, there was the Twelve Step Program to consider. Sam wanted to start before he was even out of the panic room, and Bobby pointed out that he all ready had just by asking for help, so they managed to hold him off until he was ready to rejoin the outside world. One of the steps had required Sam to have a sponsor, but since none of them knew if there was anyone else who had suffered from a demon blood addiction, Dean offered to take on that role.
The brothers slowly worked through their issues. Sam confessed that ever since losing Jessica and realizing he had visions, he felt like his life was spinning out of control. Dean's death and going to Hell had been the final straw. By agreeing to let Ruby help him help develop his powers, it was a way for him to take back control. Dean understood and even forgave him for just trying to deal with a bad situation, explaining that he'd only been worried about Sam. He also told the younger Winchester what Zachariah had done to the phone messages, which Sam had been thoroughly stunned by. But hearing the true message his brother had left made him feel slightly better.
Sam's recovery during those months had gone well, and by October, he felt ready to venture out on the road again. So Dean had packed them both up and, after saying goodbye to Bobby, the Winchesters drove away. The sounds of AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top" was blasting through the car as it cruised down the empty road.
"'It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock n' roll. It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock n' roll. If you think it's easy doin' one night stands, try playin' in a rock roll band. It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock n' roll,'" Dean sang along loudly.
Sam glanced over at his brother and grinned. "You're in a good mood."
"Why shouldn't I be?" asked Dean with a grin. "I'm behind the wheel of my baby, I got my music. All I need now is some food and a job."
"We just ate three hours ago," said Sam incredulously.
"What's your point, Sammy?"
STARRING
JARED PADALECKI
Sam shook his head as he looked back out the windshield. "Well, I checked the paper this morning before we left Bobby's and there's nothing. No mysterious deaths, no noticeable demonic omens," he said. "It's quiet, almost too quiet considering it's the end of the world."
"Like they're getting ready for something big," observed Dean.
"What about the demon you and Dana saw?" Sam asked, turning his head back to his brother.
JENSEN ACKLES
"It took off that night, haven't seen it since. God knows what's been doing the last five months," Dean answered.
Sam nodded, though he quickly wished he hadn't because he could feel a slight pounding in his temple. He raised his right hand to his head and attempted to rub it out. "Maybe it's biding its time, waiting for things to get bad," he suggested.
"That's a comforting thought," said Dean.
"Yeah, tell me about it," agreed Sam. He winced as the pain in his head started intensifying.
MISHA COLLINS
"All right, so after we cross the state line, we'll pull into a gas station. Grab some food, a couple of papers, and get back on the road. I mean, maybe you missed something," Dean said.
"I guess," muttered Sam. It was always possible, especially after an extended break.
...a darkened living room with fashionable furniture…
Sam winced, closing his eyes as though to process what was happening. All ready his body was tense.
…a slender hand using an athame to slit open a palm…
"Gah!" he gasped unconsciously, his hand gripping his pounding head tighter.
Dean, hearing the pain in his brother's voice, turned his head to face him. "Sam?" he questioned.
If Dean's brother heard him, he gave no indication. Instead he groaned, raising his other hand to grip the other side of his head, hunching over with his head down.
"Sam!" Dean turned his attention back to the road, pulling the car off to the side. Once he'd parked and killed the engine, he twisted himself to face Sam and reached over to grab both arms. He gently pulled his little brother's hands away from his face. He was rigid in Deans' grasp.
"Sam?" he asked again, but San didn't react. He stared at the dashboard, his eyes fixated but clearly unseeing.
…The living room was filled with handsome furniture, but it was dark. None of the lights were on, despite the lateness of the hour.
GUEST STARRING
GREG VAUGHAN
The man stood against the wall, staring at something in front of him. Whatever it was, though, had him spooked. "Please. I don't understand. What do you want from me?"
His questions went unanswered. With words, at least. A slender hand raised an athame to a second, identical hand. Pressing the athame to the palm, the first hand made a shallow slit, just enough for a little blood to seep through.
The owner of the athame must have stepped over to the man, because his eyes widened fearfully and he began to tremble. "Stay away, you bitch!" he shouted.
ELIZA DUSHKU
The hand that had been holding the athame reached down to grab the man's left arm. Blood dripped down it from a cut on his bicep. The bleeding palm was placed over the cut so the seeping wounds connected.
The man arched suddenly, grunting. His form was completely rigid. Choked sounds came out of his parted lips and his eyes were wide. Black veins slowly began to cover his skin. His brown eyes filled with inky black. His choking became a deep growl as a bunch of dogs barked. The growling grew longer and became a snarl.
An envelope sat on the coffee table. The address was for a street in New Town, North Dakota…
…two wounds pressed together, blood mixing…
…the man's black eyes and veined face…
Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched forward. Dean quickly grabbed his brother before his head could hit the dashboard. He pushed Sam back against the seat, watching as his body relaxed and his head fell back. His breathing slowed, though his head continued to pound like a bongo drum.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, concerned that Sam hadn't opened his eyes yet. "You okay?"
"Think so," said Sam, opening his eyes slowly to meet his brother's gaze. He felt top heavy and lightheaded at the same time and knew it wouldn't be in his best interest to move just yet.
Dean took in his brother's pale features. "Was that a vision?" he asked, though he all ready knew the answer. He recognized the symptoms, even if they were magnified from the last time it happened.
"Yeah," whispered Sam. His eyes slipped closed again. He took a shaky breath before continuing in a slightly stronger voice. "A guy was being attacked. I don't know by what, but they had an athame. They mixed their blood with his… and he changed."
"What do you mean, 'changed?'" asked Dean, confused.
"His skin was covered in black veins, he growled, his eyes went black – "
"He was possessed?"
"No, just… I don't know. Dean, I've never seen anything like this before," said Sam quietly. He opened his eyes and carefully sat up straight. Dean kept his grip on him tight just in case, but the world didn't spin on its axis, so that was something at least. "We have to stop it."
"Stop it? Sam, we don't even know what 'it' is," exclaimed Dean incredulously.
"Do we ever know what something is when we first go in?" Sam countered. "Something was after that guy, and he was scared."
Sam was giving him that determined "I'm gonna do this with or without your help" look that he'd perfected as a sixteen year old. There was no changing his mind now. He was like John Winchester that way. How it had taken Dean so long to see how much his father and brother were exactly alike he'd never know.
"All right, where are we headed?" Dean asked in resignation. Sam's visions had always given them a clue as to the location in the past.
"New Town, North Dakota." Sam cradled his still aching head in his hand as he propped his arm on the passenger door.
New Town… that was just a few hours from where they were. Dean started up the Impala's engine once more and pulled back onto the road.
New Town, North Dakota
Several hours later, the Impala was cruising down a typical American suburban street. Hard to imagine anything supernatural would occur here. Except it was areas like these that were usually prime suspects for paranormal activity.
Sam had told Dean the exact address once they entered town. After a half hour of searching, they'd found the street. Now, a couple of minutes later, they were pulling up to the house. Stopping across the street, the brothers watched the house critically. The front door opened. A man with brown hair stepped out wearing casual clothing. He carried a plastic bag in one hand and car keys in the other.
"That's him," said Sam.
Dean glanced back at his brother, then turned to the man just as he climbed into his Honda Civic. The brothers watched as he pulled down his driveway and drove down the block. Dean looked around and spotted two neighbors talking nearby.
"First things first. Let's see who this guy is," said Dean.
The brothers got out of the car and crossed the road. "Excuse me," Dean said to draw the neighbor's attention. "Hi. I'm Dean, this is Sam. We're working on a series of articles about the history of small towns in America for National Geographic Traveler."
Both neighbors looked intrigued. "Really? How can we help?" asked one of them, a woman with light brown hair who appeared to be in her forties.
"Well, how long have you lived in the neighborhood, Mrs. – ?" Dean asked, quickly taking in the bands on her ring finger.
"Sullivan," said the woman. "And I've lived here for fifteen years now."
"We've been here the longest," said the other neighbor, also a brunette woman around the same age. "Most of the people who've moved in lately are young couples just starting out. Some of them all ready have kids."
"What about the man who just left? He been here long?" asked Sam casually.
"Ben? He and his wife moved in about a year ago. She just gave birth to twins last Friday," said Mrs. Sullivan excitedly.
Sam felt sick to his stomach. Twins? The man had just become a father and now his whole life was going to be torn away.
"What's Ben like?" asked Dean, trying to sound curious rather than suspicious. Sam said the guy hadn't been possessed, but that didn't completely rule out demonic activity. The man's eyes had gone black.
"Oh, he's wonderful," chirped the other neighbor. "Nicest man you could ever hope to meet. Those last few months Evelyn was carrying those kids, she was a wreck. Mood swings, bizarre cravings in the middle of the night. And, you know, Ben never complained. Not even once. He bent over backwards to make things easier for her."
"And those twins are certainly going to be spoiled rotten. The nursery's all ready filled with boys and girls toys and enough clothing to last the whole year," added Mrs. Sullivan.
"Huh," said Dean with a slight frown. Not exactly the makings of evil incarnate. Then again, it had been the same way with Jack Montgomery a year ago.
"Hey, do you know which hospital his wife's in?" asked Sam, suddenly getting an idea.
After getting the information they needed from the neighbors, the brothers headed for New Town General Hospital. They went to the maternity ward upon arrival. It was surprisingly easy to find the right room, but that was due in part to the lack of activity in the ward. Dean made a side comment about the women in town keeping their legs crossed before heading to the nurses station to track down medical records. Sam, meanwhile, waited for the opportune moment to corner Ben and got it when the man paced out into the hallway with a pink bundle in his arms. Sam walked by, pretending to be distracted as he gently bumped the father's shoulders.
"Oh! God, I'm sorry," said Sam quickly, turning to Ben.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it," Ben grinned as he rocked the newborn girl gently.
"She's beautiful," complimented Sam as he got his first glimpse of the fair child. He wasn't lying, either.
"Thanks," said Ben. "Her twin brother almost looks exactly like her."
"Fraternal twins?" Sam asked, faking surprise. He all ready knew the genders of the infants based on what Mrs. Sullivan and her friend had told them.
"Yeah. I think they take after my wife, but she swears it's the other way around." He looked up. "I'm Ben, by the way."
"Sam. So, what're their names?"
"Noah's with my wife, and this little one is Hope."
Sam felt his heart clench. Hope was exactly what this family needed right now.
"What about you, Sam? Your wife just give birth?" asked Ben.
Another gut wrenching moment as his thoughts wandered to Jessica. "No, my sister-in-law. I'm just visiting," Sam lied.
Ben nodded in understanding. "Well, she's in good hands. The staff here is excellent. They actually care, you know. It's a large part of the reason I donate money to their children's charity every Christmas," he said.
Sam gave him a small grin, praying it didn't come through as a grimace. Charity work, devoted father, loving husband. What could something do to change all that? If a man like Ben could turn into the horrible monster from Sam's vision, what hope was there for the rest of them? For Sam?
Hope was starting to become fussy. Sam watched as Ben hushed her, muttering a brief "Excuse me" as he brought his daughter back to the room.
Dean checked them into the cheapest motel he could find as evening came. The hospital records didn't give him that much information, but at least they had the basics.
"Benjamin Edwards, born April 8, 1973, blood type AB negative. Frequent participant in blood drives, hospital volunteer." Dean shook his head as he placed the borrowed files on the table. "Guy's a regular Good Samaritan."
Sam nodded in agreement from his spot on the bed. "Do you think that's what made him a target?"
"Dunno, maybe. I mean, if this thing's trying to change people into monsters, it might get it's kicks going after folks like this," said Dean.
The younger hunter sighed softly. "Makes sense," he said. "Now all we gotta do is find a way to stop it."
"Yeah, well, the internet search came up with jack squat," Dean told him as he indicated the laptop. "What about the library?"
"Nothing, it was a dead end. There's nothing even remotely similar to this in any occult book ever written," informed Sam.
"And you're positive you don't have any idea what this thing looks like?"
"Didn't get a good look." Sam watched his brother carefully, waiting for the inevitable.
Dean had glanced down at the hospital records again. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, knew he was expecting that talk they'd have to have at some point, but not right now. Dean wasn't ready to deal with it yet, and he certainly didn't want to think about it.
"All right, well, Benny-boy usually stays at the hospital all night. Only leaves to go to work or pick up something for his wife," Dean said after a moment.
"And how'd ya find that out?" Sam had to ask, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
"Traci, with an 'i,' the beautiful nurse in the maternity ward. Blonde hair, green eyes, Gemini, got a body for days – "
" – which means you got her phone number," translated Sam knowingly.
"Well, what could I do? She practically threw it into my hand," Dean said with an innocent grin.
Sam shook his head exasperatedly. Of all the things Hell had taken from his brother, his attraction to the opposite sex hadn't been one of them. If anything, Dean had gotten worse.
"So, if the Edwards' house is going to be empty tonight, seems like the perfect chance to do a little recon," continued Dean, returning to the hunt. "Maybe there's something that'll tell us why this thing's after him."
Sam nodded in agreement.
Late that night found the Winchesters scaling the Edwards' fence and picking the lock on the back door. No alarm sounded, which wasn't too surprising in a small town like this. Major crime mostly kept to the shopping districts, and even those were random.
Flashlights on, the brothers started looking around. They were standing in the kitchen and dining room. Dean let Sam take point, since he had seen the house before, even if just in a vision. The younger hunter led the way slowly toward the living room, looking everywhere. The light fell on various pieces of furniture: tables, chairs, sofas, an entertainment unit, picture frames, bookshelves. The plate of chocolate chip cookies lay abandoned on the coffee table, stale by now. The sight of them nearly shattered Sam's still broken heart.
The living room held so many reminders of Jessica.
Dean was oblivious to his little brother's pain, having only seen the apartment his brother shared with his girlfriend for a few minutes four years ago. He was more interested in finding out as much as he could about Ben Edwards. He looked at the pictures on the walls and shelves. There were photos of Ben and a woman who was obviously his wife, his elderly parents, and a group of guys who must have been his friends from work or college. Completely normal.
There had been a time in his life where a house like this would have made Dean cringe. He had this life once, but then his mom had died and his dad had told him what was out there. Life on the road became about finding the monster that killed Mary and keeping Sammy safe. A two-story house with a white picket fence had become too risky, meant unwanted people knew where to find them, people like Child Protective Services, who could take him and Sammy away from John, and then send the brothers to separate foster homes. Dean wouldn't let that happen, and so permanent residences were outlawed in his book.
All that changed, however, when he met up with Lisa Braden again and discovered she had a child, a son that could so easily have been Dean's. Within that brief moment, all he wanted was somewhere that his boy could be raised, a safe and stable environment. Somewhere to call home besides an old car and a little brother. The idea had stuck with him a long time, leading up to and after the forty years in Hell. Dean doubted if he'd ever live long enough to have a family of his own, but if he did, he wanted to settle down in a nice neighborhood somewhere…
…not that he'd ever admit it.
Sam lingered by the coffee table, looking over the various envelopes. They were mostly bills, though Sam recognized the letter from his vision.
"Think it's safe to say the thing hasn't been here. No ozone, no sulfur, no blood. Anything on the EMF?" asked Dean.
Sam pulled the meter out of his pocket. It was silent. "No, nothing," he replied. He glanced around the room at large. "There's got to be something we're missing."
"Or maybe there's nothing to find yet. I mean, there's no signs that a crossroads deal has been made, even when there's a body," Dean said.
"We're not dealing with a crossroads demon, Dean. Ben's not going to Hell."
"Not all deals kill people, Sam. What happened to you is proof of that."
Sam stiffened, but then forced himself to relax. His brother hadn't meant anything by that, was only using it as an example. Dean didn't blame him for Azazel's actions and never would.
He was about to suggest they check upstairs when something caught his eye. Staring in confusion, Sam crossed to the bay window that looked out over the front lawn.
"What the hell?" he wondered aloud.
Dean looked up. He knew that tone. Sam had found something. "What?" he asked, crossing over to the window to join his brother.
Sam was staring at the bushes that were just below the bay window. They were average bushes with exotic-looking flowers – white petals and stamens. Sure, they were nice, but so was most of nature. Dean couldn't see what had captured his brother's attention like this.
"Selenicereus Grandiflorus," whispered Sam.
"Selena Grandi-what?" Dean asked.
"Selenicereus Grandiflorus. It's the Latin name for the Queen of the Night. It's a really rare flower," explained Sam.
Dean gave him a look. "Dude, I don't know you sometimes."
Sam winced slightly. "Jess took a botany class as an elective," he explained. "It's weird, though."
"Why?"
"The Queen of the Night's only found in the deserts in southwestern United States and northwestern Mexico. And it's now a protected plant, which means it only grows on a reservation."
"So?" asked Dean in confusion.
"So it only blooms once a year." Sam gave him a pointed look. "At the end of June, beginning of July."
End of June, beginning of July… and it was now October. Dean instantly realized what his little brother was telling him.
The flowers were a sign.
The ride back to the motel seemed to take no time at all. Sam unlocked and opened the door, still concerned about the Queen of the Night flowers. He knew there was some significance of their presence, besides obviously whatever they were after, but he couldn't remember what.
Dean closed the door behind him and started pulling off his leather jacket as he said, "Well, that was a waste of time." He tossed the jacket onto the nearby table. "Besides a bunch of out-of-season flowers, we got jack squat."
"It's still more than we had before. I mean, for all we know, those flowers may help us identify this thing," said Sam, facing his brother.
"Ah, come on, Sammy, what are the chances of that?" Dean exclaimed, throwing his arms out in emphasis.
"Dad used to take hunts with just as much to go on, sometimes less, and he'd have it figured out in less than twenty-four hours," Sam reminded him.
Dean sighed. "Yeah, and he didn't have any freaky visions to help him out." He sat down on the edge of his bed. "Okay. I'll call Bobby, see if he's ever heard of something like this."
He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell. Sam watched him silently. Freaky visions? Sam heard him clear as a bell, whether Dean realized it or not. It wasn't like it was Sam's fault that he was having visions again. He didn't understand it. He had stopped drinking demon blood. His powers should have been dormant again, yet they apparently weren't. How was that possible?
It took a moment before he finally spoke. "When are we gonna talk about it?"
Dean nearly froze, glancing briefly at his brother. Nothing good could come from that question. "Talk about what?" he feigned ignorance.
Sam wasn't fooled for an instant. He knew Dean, knew his brother preferred to bottle up his feelings and never talk about certain things, but now was not the time for that. Sam needed his brother to help him, not just with stopping the vision. Dean had been supportive and there for him during the rehab. Sam needed him to be there once more.
"About the fact that I'm having visions again," he answered quietly.
Crap, Dean cursed silently, lowering his cell phone to his leg. He didn't want to talk about this right now. "Sam –" he began aloud.
"I don't know why they're back, Dean. I mean, the last time I had a vision was months before we killed Yellow Eyes. And after that, they were gone. Ruby said they were dormant along with the rest of my abilities."
"Yeah, but those return as soon as you drink demon blood," Dean reminded him automatically.
Sam sighed heavily. Of course Dean would suspect him of falling off the wagon, even though he knew Sam hadn't left Bobby's property during the five months they were staying there. "You know I'm clean, man," he said in a soft voice.
Dean looked over at his brother quickly, taking in the hurt expression on Sam's face. Nice, Dean, way to be supportive, he thought. "I know, Sammy. Besides, it's not like you exactly needed the blood to have these visions the first time. Maybe there's another factor involved. Maybe it has something to do with Lucifer being out," he backtracked.
"Because I let him out," said Sam, feeling the guilt twist tightly in his gut. It happened frequently, sometimes a slight twinge, others as nauseating as the moment he realized Ruby betrayed him. Nothing could make it go away.
"You weren't the only one who wanted Lilith dead," Dean said. "She sicced a hellhound on my ass. I wanted to gank her on principle alone. If Cas hadn't said anything, I'd never have known what the final seal even was."
Sam knew Dean was right, but it didn't make him feel any better. He swallowed hard against the wave of sickness assaulting him. That was something he'd been doing a lot as of late. In the first few days after leaving his solitary confinement, he'd been unable to stop himself from throwing up. Five months later, it was easier to keep down the contents of his stomach, meager as they were. That was the other thing that went along with the constant nausea – no appetite. If Dean had noticed, he hadn't said anything. Bobby had tried to encourage him to eat, and while Sam appreciated the attention and care, he just couldn't do it.
Dean seemed to sense what was going through his head because his brother hardened his voice in preparation for the coming argument. "Sam –"
"Uh, you know what, I think I'll search for any connection that the Queen of the Night might have to supernatural occurrences while you're on the phone," interrupted Sam quickly. He really wasn't in the mood to fight with the older hunter.
Dean raised his eyebrows. That was unexpected. When had Sam ever changed a subject so abruptly like that? That was usually Dean's thing. Not to mention this was something Sam had brought up, which meant it had to be bothering him, and now he was desperate to avoid it? There was no way Dean could let Sam keep dwelling on this, but maybe now wasn't the best time. They were up against the clock with no clue how much time they had left. He had no choice but to follow Sam's lead…
…for now.
"Yeah, okay," Dean said as he stood up and turned towards the table –
– and found Castiel standing an inch from his face.
Dean jumped, inhaling sharply. Sam's head shot up, his body automatically tense and his hand halfway toward the gun he had yet to remove from his jeans pocket, but instantly relaxed at the sight of the angel.
Dean glared. "Cas, do we have to go through this every time?" he demanded without expecting an answer.
Castiel just stared at him blankly before turning his eyes to his little brother. "Sam. I'm glad to see you're feeling better," he said.
Sam suppressed a wince. The last time he'd seen Castiel had been just as the hallucinations were starting up. Instead, he nodded. "Yeah, much," he managed roughly.
The angel watched the younger hunter curiously for a moment, analyzing what he saw. It was true that Sam was looking better. The addiction was clearly under control, but that didn't mean he wasn't still suffering. However it happened, the boy had broken the final seal. Castiel remembered Dean's reaction to learning he'd broken the first seal. He'd quickly become so defeated and depressed that Zachariah had felt the need to intervene. But Sam was different. Filled with guilt, yes, but trying to hide it behind the stoic expression he'd perfected to deal with being the last Winchester standing for four months. He would have to be monitored closely for signs that he was having trouble dealing with the consequences of his mistakes.
Castiel turned to face Dean. "We've sensed a great disturbance in this town, but we don't know what's causing it," he explained. "What did you come here to hunt?"
"Actually, we don't know," admitted Dean frankly.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" asked Castiel, confused. "What brought you here?"
The brothers exchanged wary glances at each other. There was just no way of knowing how their new friend was going to react to the news that the younger hunter was having visions again. Sam took a deep breath. His vision, his responsibility.
"I… had a vision," Sam told the angel reluctantly.
Dean felt himself tense up as Castiel's eyes focused on his little brother. His expression was – surprise, surprise – unreadable, but he could have sworn he saw a hint of something flash in the blue eyes for a moment.
"A vision?" clarified Castiel.
"Yeah," nodded Sam.
Castiel processed this new information quickly. He was surprised that he hadn't considered the option of the youngest Winchester having a heads up on the situation.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"Uh…" Sam started, thinking back. "This guy – Ben Edwards – was cornered by something. His attacker slit his palm with an athame and bled into an open wound on Ben's arm. Then he just…" He trailed off, trying to find words to describe it.
Castiel knew where this was going. "Transformed?" he supplied.
"Yeah. His skin was covered in black veins and his eyes were black."
This time, Dean definitely saw something pass through the angel's eyes. "What? Do you know what we're working with?" he asked.
The angel nodded slightly. "It was something Lucifer used to do before Michael sealed him. It's how he got to Lilith and Azazel. Something about his blood… it's poisonous to humans."
"Poisonous how?" asked Dean.
Castiel looked him directly in the eye, serious. "Lucifer's blood is able to turn humans into demons."
The brothers felt their blood run cold. Demons? So that's what Casey had been talking about back in Elizabethville.
"I thought Hell robbed people of their humanity," Dean said, recalling what Ruby had told him back when he, too, had trusted her.
"Yes, but that is a much slower process. What Lucifer is capable of doing is instantaneous. The human body itself is converted so it is not necessary to pull a soul into Hell. These demons are strong and bloodthirsty. They lose all ability to reason. The only one who can get through to them is the one who created them."
Silence followed Castiel's statement. The break in the case was overwhelming. It didn't see to matter how many things they'd seen, there was always something out there that blew their minds.
"So… if Ben's supposed to become a demon… then doesn't that mean… did Lucifer take his vessel?" asked Sam hesitantly, not sure if he really wanted the answer.
"Not that we've heard. I'll have to report this to Michael immediately," Castiel answered.
"You do that. Meanwhile, we'll head over to Ben's and keep an eye out," said Dean. He grabbed his coat and started to slip into it.
Sam stood up, staring incredulously at his brother. "Dean, we're talking about the Devil. If he shows up, we won't be able to stop him."
"Hey, you're the one who keeps insisting we save Ben," Dean reminded him. "I thought you'd wanna go."
"I do. I'm just surprised that you do," said Sam, walking over to where his brother stood.
"I'm full of surprises," Dean smirked. He led the way out to the car.
Ben opened the front door quietly out of habit. There had been days when Evelyn had insisted on no loud noises during her third trimester, and her doting husband was only too happy to oblige. And he was still waiting on her every need. Earlier that evening, Evelyn had wanted the extra memory card for her camera. Ben agreed to run home and get it after the twins were fed.
Ben flicked the light switch as he closed the door, but the entrance light refused to go on. Confused, he flicked the switch twice more. Strange. It was a new bulb, Ben having changed it just that morning. The brand name was one of the best, so the chances of it being faulty were slim.
The neighbor's dog started howling as he heard a noise in the living room. It sounded like someone had shifted a piece of furniture. Ben's eyes narrowed in confusion as he slowly moved forward and into the open room.
A strikingly beautiful woman stood in the center of the room decked out in a black button down blouse with three-quarter length sleeves, black leather pants, and black stiletto boots. Shrouded in darkness with nothing but the streetlights hitting her through the windows, he could just make out her features. Her skin was probably pale or fair. She had dark hair, probably brown, and dark, piercing eyes. Eyes that were trained on him.
"Benjamin," she purred in a sultry voice, dark painted lips spreading into a sweet, almost innocent smile.
He blinked. She knew his name? "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Your salvation," she answered simply.
Ben was suddenly flung into the air and sent flying across the room. He crashed into the wall mirror before hitting the floor. The strange woman merely watched him as he stood up, pulling a glass shard out of his left bicep. Blood instantly swelled.
Ben stared at the woman, shocked and scared. How had she been able to do that? She wasn't anywhere near him. And she certainly wouldn't have been strong enough to physically lift him if she were standing next to him.
"Please. I don't understand. What do you want from me?" he pleaded.
She glanced away from him, carefully watching her own movements as she lifted an athame to her open palm. Slowly and smoothly, she drew the blade across her pale skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Smile back in place, she turned her attention back to Ben and crossed over to him.
Ben's eyes widened in fear and he began to tremble. "Stay away, you bitch!" he shouted, sounding a lot braver than he felt.
Again, she ignored him. She placed the athame in her belt to free her hand. She grabbed his wounded arm and pulled it straight, causing Ben to gasp and struggle fruitlessly. Leaning over the limb, the woman pressed her sliced palm to his cut, allowing their blood to mix.
The effect was instantaneous. Ben arched back suddenly as he grunted. Choked sounds began to emit from his parted lips, his eyes widened in pain and fear. Black veins slowly began to cover his skin. His formerly brown eyes filled with inky blackness. His choking sounds became a deep growl, loud enough to be heard over the still howling dog. The growling grew louder still, changing into a snarl.
Her task complete, the woman smiled.
Dean pulled the Impala right up to the house and parked in front of the driveway. The brothers got out of the car and hurried around to the trunk.
"All right, that's Ben's car, so we don't have a lot of time," said Sam.
"We don't know anything's gonna happen tonight," Dean reminded him. "But even so, best to be prepared, especially if we're going up against Satan."
"Dean, we have no idea what Lucifer's weaknesses are."
"He's a fallen angel, so chances are not much. But Cas and Anna both used Nokian Sigils to banish angels before, so we'll save that as a last resort," Dean explained as they packed a little of everything. Flasks of holy water, bags of salt, shotguns filled with rock salt rounds, revolvers filled with consecrated iron rounds, silver knives, a machete for Dean, and Ruby's knife for Sam. They couldn't afford to screw up.
"What about Ben? What if we can't stop it?" asked Sam grimly.
Dean suppressed a wince. Leave it to Sam to cut right to the heart of the problem. Truth was, Dean didn't know what they would do if they couldn't save Ben. His little brother hadn't been around demons in months. If pushed too far too soon, Dean feared Sam might fall off the wagon, whether he wanted to or not. He wouldn't let that happen.
"We'll stop it, Sam," he said in as final a tone as he could muster.
"But if we can't?" his brother insisted.
"Then I'll handle it!" Dean snapped, slamming the trunk lid closed. "All right? I'll handle it."
Sam fell silent. He heard his big brother's use of the word "I" and interpreted it for what it was. He couldn't blame him, though. Sam wasn't sure he could trust himself to stay clean, so how was Dean supposed to?
Without another word, the two hunters headed for the front door. It opened as soon as Dean turned the knob, so Ben clearly hadn't locked it. Between that and the darkness in every room despite the fact there was someone home, it was unsettling.
Dean aimed his shotgun as he stepped towards the living room. His eyes flickered over the room critically, taking everything in. The broken mirror, the unopened mail still sitting on the coffee table, the unnatural stillness of the wall clock.
There was no warning for the thing that tackled him to the ground, knocking the shotgun out of his hand. His head having hit the carpeted floor hard, it took Dean a second to regain his senses.
"Dean!" Sam shouted and raised the shotgun, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.
The thing that jumped his brother turned towards him, growling. Sam recognized the features immediately. The white skin covered in black veins. The oil black eyes. The unnatural pearl white teeth that glistened in the feral snarl. His heart sank.
It was Ben.
They were too late.
"Ben?" asked Sam cautiously, remembering what Castiel said about these demons being beyond reason but still hoping he could reach some part of the man that was human. "Ben, it's Sam. Do you remember me? From the hospital? With Hope?" He didn't know if reminding Ben about his daughter would work, but it was worth a try. "Look." Sam dropped the shotgun to the floor, but reached carefully and slowly for the flask of holy water and unscrewing the lid. He was optimistic, not suicidal. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you. Please, Ben. For your wife, for the twins."
Ben roared in response and pounced towards Sam. The hunter was ready, pulling out the flask, flicking off the cap, and splashing it on the approaching enemy. The new demon groaned as his skin sizzled.
From behind Ben, Dean had his shotgun raised and ready to fire. If holy water worked on it, rock salt might, too. He fired once, a perfect shot to the back. But the demon barely even flinched. He grabbed Sam and threw him onto the coffee table, busting it upon impact and forcing a grunt from Dean's brother. Dean tossed the shotgun aside and pulled out his pearl handled Colt revolver. He didn't hesitate in shooting several rounds of iron into Ben's torso. The demonic form flinched and Ben's roar increased with every hit. Clearly, the consecrated iron was having some effect on him, but not enough. He turned towards Dean and again began to pounce. However, he suddenly arched back with a howl, his entire body flashing red. There was the familiar sound of tearing flesh, and the demon that was formerly Benjamin Edwards fell dead. Sam stood behind the fallen corpse, Ruby's – now bloodied – knife in his hand.
Dean panted, glancing from the body to his baby brother. The knife had worked, but at what cost? God, he didn't want this. It was Jack Montgomery all over again. But as he turned his eyes back to his brother, Dean noticed the bigger, more urgent, problem.
Sam was staring at the carpet, at the pool of blood that was forming there.
Demon blood…
He could all ready smell the coppery scent, probably from the knife he still clutched. Sam remembered how all his doubts and fears would vanish after he drank the blood. It made him strong, stronger than he had ever been without it. One little sip and all his guilt would go away, all his pain and indecision…
…and his big brother.
"No…" Sam whispered as his body trembled. "No…" He forced his hand to uncurl, dropping the knife. He covered his mouth and nose tightly with his other hand and took a step back, shaking his head in the denial he could no longer speak.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief, his heart swelling with pride. Sam was resisting the temptation of the blood. That was a huge step in the right direction. Pushing himself off the floor, Dean crossed over to where his brother stood and gripped his arm in silent praise and support.
For a moment, the Winchesters stood, gazing down at the fallen monster and just taking it all in.
The hunters cleaned up the evidence of their existence and took off before local law enforcement could show up (the neighbors had to have heard the gunshots and probably called 911). They returned to the motel, where Dean insisted they try to get a couple hours sleep before leaving. But once dawn came, the brothers checked out and took off for the next location.
Sam had been quiet the night before, but now he was completely closed off. They had known all along there was no guarantee that they could stop the vision, but Dean knew Sam had been hoping. So, about thirty miles away from town, when he could no longer stand the silence, Dean broke it.
"Okay, I know we've said this before and this probably won't be the last time we have to say it, but we can't save everyone, Sam," he said, sparing his brother a quick glance.
Sam nodded in agreement, but he didn't speak. His gaze was fixed on the barren scenery outside the passenger window.
Dean cast around for something else to say, and then belatedly realized there was something that maybe needed to be said aloud. "Hey, uh… you know, about last night, with the blood…"
Sam cast his glance to his brother and watched him out of the corner of his eyes.
Dean hesitated slightly, but took the plunge. "That must have been really hard to do… resisting it like that on the first try… and, uh… I'm – I'm proud of you, Sammy. I mean it, I am."
Sam grinned and chuckled at Dean's awkwardness. "Thanks," he said softly. "And you're right, it was hard. Nearly impossible."
"What stopped you?" asked Dean.
"Your reaction and the reason I wanted it…" Sam trailed off, not wanting to say too much.
"Why did you want to?" Dean knew he was probably prying more than he usually would and really wanted to, but this was all important to Sam's recovery.
Sam shook his head, not interested in sharing. "It's nothing, don't worry."
"Sam –"
"It's just… I can't get over what I did. Hurting you, opening Lucifer's cage. I know it wasn't all me, that I was pushed, but the guilt's still there, you know?"
"You're right, it wasn't just you, Sam. I mean, technically, I opened the first seal. Remember how messed up I was when I found out? You're not the only one who knows what that feels like. You can come to me."
Sam snorted. Yeah, right. Mr. "No Chick-Flick Moments" actually wanted to talk about feelings? It was just words to make Sam feel better. Dean didn't mean them.
"You didn't know any better," said Sam instead.
"Neither did you," Dean insisted. "And I couldn't always tell which side Ruby was really on. Hell, even Bobby had trouble. You have to try to let this go, Sam, or it'll just tear you apart. Okay?"
Knowing his brother needed an answer, Sam nodded. But it didn't matter. Dean didn't understand. Nobody would.
Sam was truly alone.
CREATOR
ERIC KRIPKE
EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS
ERIC KRIPKE
ROBERT SINGER
FANFICTION STORY
JAKE THE FEARLESS LEADER
A wall display explodes in a blast of fire...
The brothers aiming loaded shotguns...
Flickering lights and the form of a man appearing behind Sam...
Dean glancing around, controlled panic in his eyes...