"You three, in there," Booth ordered as he pushed Sam, Dean, and Hodgins into the conference room.
Hodgins looked at Sam and Dean. "At least it isn't the interrogation room," he said with a hopeful shrug of his shoulders. Sam and Dean, in complete sync, rolled their eyes and turned away from the door.
"How do you explain it, Bones?" Booth asked, disbelief lifting his words.
"I can't say for sure, but for one thing I am ruling out resurrection. It is a completely absurd notion."
"But you saw what I saw," Booth stated.
"I saw what looked like the beginning of a Vegas magic show. A lot of bright lights used to throw our attention elsewhere."
"But what kind of magic trick could have made us bleed from our ears before knocking us out with that kind of a concussive blast?" "I've been near explosions, incendiary and flashbang grenades, none of them ever affected anyone like that. I'm serious, Bones, something isn't natural here."
"Booth I know you want to believe in the mystical and the supernatural, but it is just a trick." "These men are dangerous, and I am not going to let them trick you."
"I need to go over their case files," Booth mused. He hoped that something in their files would help him understand what he just saw.
"Yes! Didn't you say that they had a habit of faking their own deaths? Maybe if we look at the way they did it previously we can find their pattern."
Booth nodded but looked after Bones as she left the room to retrieve the files, which she couldn't access so he would have to chase after her, but for a moment Booth just sat and tried to wrap his mind around the unbelievable turn his night had taken. "It just doesn't make sense."
"So, Dean, I never did get to ask you, hellhounds?"
"Yeah," Dean admitted with a grimace. "Not pretty. Those sunsabitches are freakin' scary."
"Were you hunting it?"
Dean scoffed, "More like it was hunting me."
Hodgins stopped. That didn't make sense to him. "But don't they only go after people who sell their souls?"
Hodgins saw Dean lift his shoulders. "Like I said, it was hunting me."
Realization hit Hodgins like a battering ram. "You sold your soul? Why the hell would you do that?"
"He did it for me," Sam interjected. He could see Dean's tension rise. They both liked Jack, and they all owed their lives to each other, but Dean was obviously not in the sharing mood at the moment.
"He sold his soul for you? Why?"
"I died," Sam said matter-of-factly like it was common knowledge.
Hodgins sat heavily in one of the plush chairs rounding the large table. "Seriously?"
Sam scoffed, "Yeah. I literally got stabbed in the back. Not fun."
Hodgins turned to Dean, who had retreated to lean against the far wall. Dean stood with his arms crossed and looked at Sam with a severe expression.
"You died for Sam?" Hodgins rubbed his chest absentmindedly. He remembered Dean's corpse. He could still see the slashes that had cut through Dean, cutting out his soul and dragging to eternal torture. Hodgins sat in shocked realization that Dean had chosen that ending rather than living in a world without Sam.
"How did you get out? I mean your soul was in Hell, right?" "How did you get out?"
Dean didn't answer; instead he tilted his head, as if he was motioning for Sam to elaborate on something. Sam was confused.
"What?" Sam asked, "It wasn't me if that's what you're thinking."
"Oh Sammy, that's exactly what I'm thinking," Dean said in a low and serious voice. Hodgins suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like he was interrupting a very private discussion, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.
Pushing himself off of the wall without his arms, Dean said in a low voice, "What did it cost?"
"It wasn't me, Dean," Sam repeated. "Trust me, I tried. I tried everything I could, but nothing worked."
"Then what pulled me out?"
"I don't know," Sam looked at Dean and realized, "You don't believe a word I'm saying do you?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I just want to know what it cost you. Was it your soul or something worse?"
"I tried to get you out, Dean. For months, for MONTHS!" He exaggerated the last word, the desperation of the last four months finally alive in his voice. "I tracked down every crossroad demon I could find, but none of them would deal. You were in Hell, and I couldn't stop it. Dean, I tried. I am so sorry, but I couldn't stop it."
Dean could see it all written on Sam's face. The fear, the desperation, and the regret made it clear, Sam didn't do this. He reached out and grabbed his brothers shoulder, "I believe you, Sammy."
"Then I guess that's where we have a problem," Hodgins piped up, inserting himself back into the conversation. "If Sam couldn't figure out how to pull you out of hell, then what did?"
"whatever it was, it sure was powerful,"
"Yeah, resurrecting you practically decimated the lab," "So are we thinking some über demon?"
Dean absently rubbed his left shoulder. For some reason it had been aching since his resurrection, but there was time for figuring that out later.
Dean shook his head, "I have absolutely no clue. I mean I would have said that it was a demon. The only kind that I would even think would have that power would be a crossroads demon." He looked at Sam. "I mean one brought you back, so they obviously have the juice."
"Yeah, sure, but did bringing me back do that to that shack?"
"No but it could have bee the fact that I no doubt looked like some thriller-video reject."
"Oh you definitely did," Hodgins scoffed, but his eyes were empty of humor.
Sam watched with concern as Dean absently rubbed at his shoulder again. He had been doing so off and on since they had gotten to the FBI. "Hey Dean, is your shoulder okay? You keep massaging it like it hurts."
"Yeah Sammy, I'm fine. It's just sore. Probably from our little tussle."
"I didn't hit or twist your shoulder. You sure you don't want me to take a look?"
"Would it make you shut up about it?" Dean sighed and nodded. He angled his shoulder at Sam and watched with feigned annoyance as Sam looked at his shoulder.
"It's more like my skin hurts, like an old wound has been irritated."
Sam crinkled his brow in concern. "Take your shirt off. Let's see if the skin looks irritated."
Peeling the long sleeved shirt off his shoulder, Dean whined, "Great, so a demon brings me back to life only to give me Eczema."
Sam pulled up the sleeve of Deans tshirt and let out a shocked breath, "Holy crap."
Dean's eyes shot over to his arm, "Gaah." Was all the sound that Dean made. He jerked back from Sam and twisted, trying to get a better view of the angry welts that blistered on his arm.
"It looks like a handprint," Hodgins said in shock.
"It's like what ever pulled you out left it."
"Or rode me out," Dean said gravely. He cradled his arm and stared at the marks. Looking at it, he had a sense of serious foreboding. Like their next big bad had just marked him like a rancher brands his cattle.
"We should call Bobby," Sam said. "If anyone will know what's happening, Dean. You know it will be him."
"We will, Sam, but you're forgetting something that's a bit more pressing."
"What is more pressing than figuring out what brought you back to life?"
"How about the FBI agent and his partner that are outside this room right now trying to throw us back in jail. I just got sprung from one prison. I'm not going to another."
"Right." Sam agreed, but stopped as a question popped into his mind. "Hey, Dean."
Dean was beginning to pace around the room. He glanced at his brother. "Yeah, Sammy?"
Sam took a moment to figure out how he wanted to ask his question. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answer. "What was it like?"
"What, Hell?" Dean asked raising his eyebrows. "I don't know."
"What?" Sam asked, surprised.
"I don't remember a damn thing," Dean admitted with a sigh.
Hodgins watched Sam close his eyes and nod, peace relaxing the tension that had built in his shoulders. Dean, on the other hand, turned away from Sam, and Hodgins could just see a haunted look come over Dean's face. It was like a mask had fallen for just a second and all Hodgins could see was the face of a man that absolutely remembered Hell, but there was no way he was going to call Dean on that lie.
"Well thank god for that," Sam said with a heavy breath of relief.
Dean turned back around and gave Sam a half smile.
"Booth, look at this," Brennan called. She had a file in her hand and a smile of realization on her face. "They've done this before."
"Done what?" Booth asked, grabbing the file. He scanned it briefly.
It was a case file from St. Louis, Missouri. The first time that Dean Winchester had shown up on the fed's radar, but his demise at the hands of one of the potential victims closed the case… momentarily.
"They had a body," Brennan explained. "A body that matched Dean's. Just like we did."
"Okay, that's a little weird. I mean I had heard that they liked to fake their deaths, but I had never read the case file."
Brennan pulled a file from the desk behind her. "This is what led me to that first file. Sam and Dean were arrested in Milwaukee, and there is a request to exhume a body in St. Louis that was supposed to be the very much alive Dean. Which led me to that case right there." Brennan pointed to the file iin Booth's hand. "They said he killed four women. Beat and tortured them to death in their own homes."
Booth shuddered, but shook his head. "It just doesn't make sense."
Brennan looked up from the file that held the proof, or so she thought, that Dean Winchester had not performed an act that redefined the laws of nature. Her brows furrowed. "How does it not make sense? They have precedence for the same thing that just happened. Just this time they set up a slight of hand performance to create shock and awe." Brennan set the file down and grabbed Booth's arm. "That's all it was, Booth. A trick."
"I don't know," he admitted. "Sam and Dean were already dead. There was no reason for them to have a fake body that would make it seem like he was dead. He was already dead. The grave wasn't easily accessible, so it's not like they put it in a high trafficked area where it would be found quickly." Booth listed all of the things that had been nagging at him since Dean had come back.
"You said it was less complicated for Dean to have faked it, but really I think it seems less complicated if he actually was resurrected."
"You can't be serious, Booth!" Brennan exclaimed.
"How did you do it?" Brennan asked as she barged into the conference room.
"Do what? Come back? Yeah we were trying to figure that out here too," Dean answered, waving his hand and motioning to Sam and Hodgins.
"No," Brennan spat as she backed Dean into a corner. "You're going to tell me right now because you nearly have my partner believing your ridiculous story."
"Well your partner is clearly the smart one," Dean said offhandedly.
"Uh Dean, I wouldn't say that," Hodgins warned in a low breath.
"You know what screw this," Dean cursed as he pushed past Brennan.
"Where are you going?" Brennan asked forcefully.
Sam could see the anger rising in Dean's face. He took a moment to collect himself before he answered, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Ya know for being dead for four months, I really need to piss. Where's the bathroom?"
"Brennan," Booth warned in a low voice. He could also see Dean's rising tension. These men were known to be unpredictably. He didn't think Dean would hurt her in front of everyone, but everyone seemed really tense and Booth didn't want to push it.
"You seriously would believe this?" She asked disbelief and frustration edging her voice. "What is that?" Brennan motioned to the scar peeking out of Dean's tshirt sleeve.
Dean sighed and pulled up the sleeve, revealing the angry welts.
"Where did you get that?" Brennan asked, astounded. She had seen, what she thought, was every injury conceivable, but a burning handprint was new to her.
Sam piped up when Dean didn't answer. "We think whatever brought Dean back left it."
Brennan huffed and tugged down Dean's sleeve in annoyance. "You really wont let that go will you?"
"Nope, now seriously can I go piss or what?" Dean asked in a clipped tone.
Booth gently grabbed Dean's arm. "I'll take you. Bones, stay in here with Hodgins and Sam."
Dean waited until he and Booth were out in the hallway before he spoke up. "You're partner's a piece of work."
Booth's grip on Dean's arm tightened. "She's probably right about you two, but something has just been eating at me about you and Sam's case. When I figure it out, we will put you behind bars."
"Is that why I'm not in cuffs right now?" Dean asked with a smirk. "Because something's been eating at you?"
Booth motioned to the door in front of them. "There's the bathroom. There are no windows or escapable ducts in there, so don't even think there is an escape in there."
"You have my brother, Booth. I'm not goin' anywhere without him and you know that."
Booth nodded, "I'll be out here. Make it quick."
Dean turned the faucet on cold and splashed some water over his face. The cold shocked his tired eyes. He looked into the mirror at his reflection. Only four months had passed and whatever had brought him back had done so perfectly, but Dean barely recognized himself. There was a haunted look to his eyes and a cruel curve to his mouth. Dean just hoped that Sam never learned where those changes came from.
Looking down at his torso, Dean flashed back to when the hellhound had torn at him, flaying his chest and ripping through his bones. He lifted his shirt and let out a surprised breath. Even though Dean knew that whatever had brought him back had healed him, and every scar that he had accumulated throughout his life, it was still a shock to see himself whole again. He could only imaging what creature had the power to undo what the hellhound had done.
Booth knocked at the door, "Hey, hurry it up."
"Yeah, I'm comin'," Dean called back. He turned the faucet off and took a breath to steady himself, but a high-pitched noise made him stop.
The noise grew and grew until it was nearly unbearable. Clapping his hands to his ears, Dean groaned in pain. The noise almost seemed to pulse in Dean's ears like it had power just in its sound. The mirrors shattered, and Dean quickly flinched away to avoid the shards flung across the tiled room. The fluorescent light bulbs exploded in a burst of light Dean crouched down, hoping to avoid the raining shard of glass.
Booth heard the commotion and burst into the bathroom. He saw Dean kneeling on the floor, glass littering the entire room. One of the fluorescent bulbs over Dean's head popped with a flash of light. Booth and Dean both flinched away from the falling glass.
"Dean!" Booth shouted but Dean didn't respond. Dean just continued to groan. Booth could see blood leaking down Dean's neck from under where his hands covered his ears.
Grabbing his arms, Booth hauled Dean out of the bathroom. As soon as they left the room, Dean let his hands drop from his ears. Booth let him sink against the wall of the hallway.
"What the hell happened?" Booth asked.
Dean heaved a heavy breath. He looked down at his hands and his eyes widened at the sight of his own blood. "I have no idea," Dean responded while touching his ears.
"There was this noise, this force," Dean described. "It was so loud. Didn't you hear it?"
Booth looked from Dean to the bathroom where the last remaining intact light bulb flickered dangerously. "Was it a high pitch noise?"
"You did hear it?"
"Not this time, but I did when you were resurrected, or whatever that was," Booth explained in shock. "What the hell was that?"
Dean wiped at the blood lining his neck. "I wish I knew."
Booth shook his head. "I have a feeling that we have entered territory that I'm gonna wish I never knew about," he admitted in a low voice, extending his hand to Dean to help him up.
"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked,
"We're not really sure," Booth answered for Dean who was wiping at his bloody ears with a wet paper towel.
"You remember right before Dean showed up that loud noise that probably damaged our ears so we'll be deaf about ten years sooner than everyone else?"
Sam, Hodgins, and Brennan all nodded. "Did it happen again?" Brennan asked. Taking a not-so-obscure logical leap seeing how Dean's ears had been bleeding.
Booth began talking quickly, wanting to explain as fast as he could. "I leave him in the restroom for a couple of minutes and all of a sudden I start hearing glass shattering," Booth explains. "I open the door and there is Dean, crouching on the floor, bleeding from his ears, and getting rained on by the shattering mirrors."
"So you heard the noise too?" Brennan asked, slightly skeptical.
"No, but Dean's ears were definitely bleeding," Booth explained.
Brennan raised an eyebrow. "But you didn't hear the noise." It wasn't a question.
"Bones, I know what I saw," Booth defended. "He looked just like we did when that noise came the last time," he pointed to Dean's ears. "That blood is real. As were the mirrors and lightbulbs shattering on their own."
Booth didn't really understand why he was defending Dean from his partner, but Booth knew what he saw. That pain on Dean's face wasn't faked. He understood that the Winchesters weren't to be trusted, but the amount of unexplainable things that kept happening around them has started to take its toll. Booth now toyed with the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to what they have been saying all along. It's getting to the point that a supernatural presence in the world would explain what the hell was happening more than real life explanations. Booth had a feeling that he and Brennan's entire world was about to turn upside down.
A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Thanks for reading! A few more chapters to go. Let me know what you think!
