.-.-.-. Primoris Filius.-.-.-.
Summary: Everything has a story - every scar, every tear, every weapon, every amulet... So when the boys come across a new hunt with a familiar M.O. a valuable piece of jewellery might be needed to protect an innocent life once again. Takes place in both the present and the past... Deancentric (when aren't my stories?)
Disclaimer: Already said it… :P
Warnings: Typical bad language that you expect from the Winchesters, particularly Dean… Decided to set this after Season 2 but before Season 3… guess I wanted that extra angst factor!!!
Hallo! I know – it feels like forever since I've updated any of my stories. I have been trying, just with starting Uni I am so not very good at managing my time at the moment. But I'm really hoping that once I get settled with Uni and work that I'll be able to get some more writing done. So thank you so much for sticking with me – it means so much 'cause you guys are great!!!
Okay so I decided to be all naughty and check out a couple of spoilers… even though I swore to myself that strictly under no circumstances I would… ahh well, the best laid plans of mice and men. Anyway… yeah, saw a mention of that wonderful necklace but I'll tell you what Kripke! You played with us for two whole seasons – so I'm gonna finish this story and hope you all reading will enjoy, even if it differs from events in the show. :D
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4. Stepping Stones
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August 1997
"So what do you think?" Halloway asked as soon as he was sure they wouldn't be overheard.
"Any amateur could piece this together and know there's something supernatural that needs killing. The problem is figuring out patterns, finding out what's doing it and how to kill it before it murders someone else." John replied with a huff, running his hands across his face. He took another glance back at the house, this thing was destroying innocent lives and it needed to be stopped.
Halloway clapped John on the shoulder and turned to smirk at the older man, "That's why I need your help."
"You're a smart guy, I can tell that much so why? Why bring me in on this?"
"I told you John, I'm not used to dealing with this kind of thing. I can't do it alone but I know I can trust you. So you in or do I just have to struggle on?"
John looked at the man in front of him, determination for the hunt boiling up in the young hunters eyes, "You've got one week. After that we'll see…"
"Great."
"Yeah, great for you." John smiled, pulling his keys from the pocket of his jacket, "Not sure my sons would agree."
Halloway nodded; face lighting up with excitement at the thought of a hunt. He watched as John unlocked his truck and opened the door, waiting until John turned around before speaking again, "So what next?"
"Next? I go 'home' and eat. You do whatever it is you do and we'll talk tomorrow, see if we can pick up any patterns in the hunting grounds." John could practically hear his stomach growling, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten. He'd had a chance at the diner he'd met Halloway in but he was a professional.
"Right…" Halloway looked as if he was considering the matter for a moment or two before shrugging and smiling once again, pulling his own keys from his pocket so he could clamber into his old blue Ford.
The kid was something; that much he knew. There was just something about him that John couldn't quite put his finger on and as he watched the kid pull away he just stood there, thinking. He'd never really believed in bad vibes or all that stuff but he trusted his instincts, knew that when his guts told him someone was bad news then they were probably bad news. And as much as he hated to admit it, this guy was bad news but bad or not, innocent people were dying and lives needed saving.
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Present Day
Sam didn't notice it at first, he was pretty sure that Dean didn't even know he was doing it, but every so often Dean would lift his hand up to the amulet attached to the worn leather cord around his neck. It was as if he was making sure it was still there. Sam frowned as he considered the treasured possession. He couldn't remember the exact point in time that Dean had received it but he was pretty sure that the only times he'd seen his brother without it was when the shape shifter had stolen it, whenever hospital staff had needed to remove it for safety or when Dean had made sure to store it in the Impala for the prison job they did.
"Any of that sound familiar?" Sam asked, breaking the silence that had fallen since leaving Melissa's.
"What?" Dean looked over at his brother, breaking from his daze.
"This thing is really getting to you isn't it?"
"I'm fine Sam; I just got a little lost in thought."
Sam grunted, "Why don't I believe you?"
"Believe what you want, we've got work to be doing."
"You mean checking out the other families?" The youngest asked, opening the Impala door and climbing in underneath his laptop, "We have to find out who they are first."
"Yeah, well that's where you come in." Dean grinned as he took his usual seat behind the wheel and started the engine. But the grin was just a mask for all the world to see. In his mind he kept going over memories of that hunt his Dad took with Halloway. It was meant to be over and done with. The memories weren't supposed to haunt him; they weren't supposed to dredged up, not here and particularly not now. There wasn't enough time for the past to haunt him.
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August 1997
"Dean!" John barked when he entered the small dingy but most prominently empty room, "Sam!"
"Yes Sir?" Came the reply from his eldest as his head popped up from behind one of the beds, his head and only his head. A muffled moan came from somewhere near him.
"Let go of your brother Dean. How many times do I have to tell you?" John sighed, planting his bag on one of the beds, "Save your fighting for outside the room."
Grunting, Dean pulled himself from the tangled mess of limbs and held out a hand to his shaggy haired brother still on the floor, "He started it though."
"Yeah, real mature Dean." Sam moaned, pushing Dean's hand away and using the bed to help himself up, "All I wanted to do was get a break from listening to Metallica for one single second. Is that much to ask for?"
"Exactly! Don't mess with the music, Sammy." Dean teased. His hand reached over and ruffled Sam's hair before he had to quickly dodge a swipe.
"Boys!" John said loudly and clearly and both brothers stilled at once, though John was sure he heard his youngest mutter something like 'It's Sam, not Sammy.'
"Sam," John stated firmly, not wanting any arguments, "Run to the office and book us the room for the next seven days, take the Kasalivich card just in case he needs it again."
Sam rolled his eyes but grabbed the wallet that his father was holding out for him and took the chosen credit card out before making his way from the room and towards the main office where a particularly annoying clerk was on duty.
"And Dea-" John started but his eldest wouldn't let him get started, cutting in before his father even had time to finish his name.
"You were gone early this morning and you came in late last night. So you're gonna be working with this guy then?"
"Yeah, but as I guess you've figured, I'm only giving him a week."
"I can help." Dean offered, straightening himself to his full height and holding his head up, staring John directly in the eye.
"I don't want you to."
And Dean's stance faltered as his father's words hit him, "Why not? I've been hunting for ages. What's so different about this? Why's it so bad that I'm not allowed to help?"
"I don't like it Dean. Of all the cases I've worked… there's just something about this one and I don't want you involved." But as John looked his son up and down, he had a feeling that if this thing was nearly half as bad as Halloway said it was, then they might end up needing an extra pair of hands.
"I can handle it. I swear to God Dad, I can. I want to help." Dean pushed, "And I don't just mean researching."
John shook his head and turned away from his eldest, moving towards a duffle that lay on the floor. As he scrounged through the bag for clean clothes, he decided it was best to end this conversation before it got out of hand, "No Dean, and that's an order."
His son was silent but John could feel the air between them tensing, he looked up from the duffle and his son once again met his eyes. Though his son's voice was tight and angry, it was obedient and loyal, "Yes Sir."
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Present Day
Parked up just outside the library, Dean was forced to tap to the almost non existent music that played through the radio speakers whilst Sam used the waning wireless Internet to search the records for the previous deaths. Sam being Sam, it didn't take long to come up with a few names and details.
"Nick Messenger, aged thirteen, and Freddie Gibson, aged twenty." Sam stated, emerging from his laptop to look at Dean, "This thing seems to have a taste for young blood."
"Then the sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we can kill it." Dean nodded firmly, glancing at Sam before reaching for the ignition, "You got any addresses?"
"Yeah…" Sam replied, pulling up the nearest one and as soon as Dean switched the engine on he knew he'd lost the chance to try and get Dean to spill the truth about what had happened with that Halloway guy that made him so uptight. Whether or not this case had anything to do with what had happened back then, Sam was gonna find out even if he had to tie Dean down and threaten him with the Smurfs.
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By the time they were finished with both families and climbing back into the Impala, Sam was putting two and two together. Noticing as little pieces of the puzzle fell into place and he began to wonder how quickly Dean would own up to what was so clearly obvious.
"So Nick was your youngest?" Dean has asked, staring at the photo of a large and happy family.
Mr Messenger who had his arm wrapped around his wife, comforting her, was the one who answered, "The youngest but toughest of the bunch, he could win any argument – even the ones he didn't start. Kid would have you convinced coal was white if you gave him the time."
"So he was a bit of a trouble maker?" Sam queried, brows knitting together.
"No more than the others. A tough life can make you a bit like that."
"Tough life? In what way?"
"Jumping from home to home, this is the first place he's been in long enough to adopt a surname."
"Wait… so you're foster parents?" Dean jumped in, confusion and anxiety clear in his eyes – though quickly hidden before either of the Messengers had a chance to see.
"We can't have children ourselves but we both come from large families," Mrs Messenger explained, "But I swear we love every single one of these kids as if they were our own."
"I don't doubt that." Sam clarified, side glancing at his brother as Dean ran a hand through his hair and shadow passed across his face.
"Do you know anything about his biological parents?"
"Only that the mother was too young really and we guess the father was probably the same."
"Great…" Sam had heard Dean mutter; and it was shortly after that they moved onto the Gibson household.
The conversation there had gone as much as Sam had suspected it would. Freddie being a clever young man and even though he fought like cat and dog with his younger siblings, he was still fiercely protective of them. Dean was silent when they left the house and was deliberately avoiding Sam's gaze, as if he knew his brother had found the missing link.
As Dean turned the key and the engine roared to life, Sam opened his mouth to speak but froze, not knowing exactly how to phrase his question. His mind wandered to the descriptions of the dead bodies and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
"Dean… you have to tell me what happened." He finally said.
"What you talking about Sammy?" Dean asked, only glancing long enough at Sam to take in his serious expression.
"You knew I'd see the pattern so just spill okay. This is the same thing Dad hunted isn't it?" Sam prodded, "Just what is it?"
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