.-.-.-. 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!!!
Hey! Got another update! There'll be more action in the next chapter so I'll try and get started on that soon. Thanks for sticking with me and reading!
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9. Retreat
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August 1997
"What was that about?" John asked as he entered the room, immediately shutting the door behind him.
Dean tried not to let the relief show on his face as his father walked over to his bed. He shrugged in reply and looked away, towards the curtained window, "What did Sam say?"
"He's been up most the night… he wouldn't admit it though. I told him we got sidetracked, I didn't say how but I think he guessed." John sighed and took a seat on the end of the bed, "Dean, what was Halloway doing in here?"
"He was asking how I was." He continued staring at the curtains, tracing the patterns with his eyes.
"Anything else…?" John pushed, refusing to drop the subject. Halloway had used his son as bait but he wasn't sure how Dean would handle that knowledge if he found out.
Finally, Dean turned to look at his Dad, "Yeah actually… he told me that thing isn't dead."
John closed his eyes and looked down, knowing that the gesture was an admittance of defeat. He hadn't told Dean that it was dead… but he hadn't told him it was alive either, hiding the truth still meant lying. He'd lied to his sons so often that sometimes he didn't even know he was doing it. They always knew though, and he could tell that it hurt them… especially Dean.
"Dad?"
"It got away." John admitted.
"Great…" Dean ran a hand through his hair, scruffing it up, and looked up to the ceiling. He was disappointed in himself and he didn't doubt that's his Dad was too, no matter what the guy said differently.
"Dean… I need you to listen to me."
At his father's serious tone, a request bordering on an order, Dean dropped his gaze and looked his Dad in the eye, brow furrowing.
"This thing is gonna kill again and there's no telling how soon but we need to stop it. No heroics, no going off alone and no leaving the motel room unless we have to. We need to do some serious research, me and you, and we need to find a way to kill this thing so it won't come back. Halloway said something and I'm pretty sure he's right… I don't want him to be but I don't see what he'd have to gain from lying."
"What did he say?"
"He said this thing's persistent… once it chooses a victim it won't stop until the victim's dead. This thing chose you Dean and I'm not prepared to loose you."
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Present Day
Dean lay on his right side, his left too banged up and bruised, one hand snaked under his pillow and the other hung limply over the side of his bed. He was completely oblivious to the world and to his young brother who lay sprawled out in a dreamless sleep on the bed next to his; that was until he rolled over onto his back and a sharp pain shot up through his body.
The pain brought him back to consciousness quicker than any cold bucket of water could have. He sat up slowly and took deep breaths, waiting for the pain to pass. His eyes searched the room, eventually landing on his sleeping brother. He looked so peaceful, blankets covering the bulky lump.
A shadow passed by the window and Dean's head snapped around to watch, heart thrumming in his chest. He saw it disappear and cursed. It was probably just a person, or passing headlights… but still… How could he be so stupid… this thing could attack them at anytime and the most defence he had was a knife under his pillow. A faint memory nagged at him and he threw his sheets off and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt, quickly tugging them on, followed by his boots and jacket.
Snatching the keys to the Impala up from the table, he glanced at Sam once more before deciding the youngest Winchester would probably still be asleep by the time he got back, and he opened the motel door and left the room as quietly as he could. It was getting dark now, streetlights flickering on in the late dusk as the cold breeze whipped at Dean's face, making him wish he could just crawl back into bed where it was at least warm.
Wrapping his coat around him tighter he strolled over to the Impala, his eyes darting back and forth for any signs of danger. It took mere seconds before his black beauty was unlocked and he was sitting in the driver's seat, key in the ignition and engine roaring to life. Now he just had to find some place that supplied lamb's blood.
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Sam rolled over in a half sleep and stretched, lingering dreams disappearing as his body and mind slowly began to wake. Awareness seeped in from the edges but he kept his eyes closed and just listened. The room was silent. It didn't bother him at first, not until he realised that he couldn't even hear his brother.
As worry washed over him, his eyes snapped open and he jerked up, gaze landing on the empty bed next to his. The covers had been cast to the side carelessly, twisted as if Dean had been in a rush or a struggle. A quick scan of the room showed his clothes from the previous day to be missing, along with his boots and jacket.
"Dean?" Sam called, throat constricting tightly as he squeezed the name out.
When his brother didn't reply, he stood up, so quickly his vision blurred for a second, and crossed the room to open the bathroom door and check inside. He knocked once and then turned the handle, the room was dark but he could tell there was no one inside. His eyes fell on the table where the Impala's keys had laid and cursed when he saw no sign of them.
"Damn it Dean, what are you playing at?"
After several seconds of staring around the room, Sam began to pace, left hand coming up to cover his mouth whilst his right nervously tapped his leg in thought. His phone sat on the cabinet between the beds, right next to Dean's… so it was useless calling him. And he had no idea where his brother had gone or how long he'd been gone for. The clock standing with the phones told Sam it was ten o'clock, and the darkness outside told him it was night.
Just as he decided to pull his jeans on, he heard the sound of a car pulling up followed by the engine dying. He quickly zipped the jeans up and fastened the button, heading for the lone window he peered outside and at the smooth black car parked outside. The door creaked open and Dean climbed out, unharmed and holding a large paper bag.
"Shopping?" Sam growled, tearing away from the window and towards the door, which he pulled roughly open so he could stare incredulously at his brother, "You went for shopping?!?"
Dean's head snapped up and his eyes met Sam's, immediately a sheepish smile formed on his face as he locked the Impala and walked towards the room, "Kinda needed to Sammy."
"And what did you get? M&M's? Beer? Just what was so important you decided to sneak out…?"
"Lamb's blood." He answered simply, balancing the bag and reaching inside to pull out a container with a sloppy reddish black liquid inside.
"Lamb's blood?" Sam repeated, brows furrowing in confusion, "Why?"
"Protection."
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August 1997
It was mid afternoon before the Doctors finally let Dean leave the hospital, even then they were reluctant but John insisted that it would be better for everyone. He wanted to get Dean back to what felt like safe grounds, where he could also keep an eye on Sam. Before the motel room could really be declared as safe though, John knew he needed a little something else – after all, salt wasn't enough to stop this thing.
The pair parked up outside the room and John sat staring straight ahead, he could feel Dean's eyes on him and after several intense seconds, he turned his head a little and spoke.
"Dean… I want you to rest, okay? Just take it easy." He paused and looked up to see the curtain twitching and Sammy's face disappearing behind it, "I know you want Sam to think you're fine but you're not, you were hurt badly and you need to recover fully."
"Dad…" Dean started and John could already hear the words echoing in his mind before his boy even said them, "I'm okay… really…"
John nodded, Dean's lie weighing heavily on him. Deep down inside, he wanted to turn to his son and look him straight in the eye and tell him that sometimes he didn't have to be okay, that it was normal and that no one was invincible, "Yeah."
Reaching for the handle, Dean burrowed his brow in confusion when John didn't do the same, but instead turned the key in the ignition. Sam came tumbling out of the motel room and over to the car, searching the two men over through the glass. John wound his window down and shook his head when Dean brought his hand away from the handle, indicating that he wanted his son to get out.
"I've got a couple of things to pick up, so I want you both to just stay inside and behave." He told both his sons as Dean climbed out and shut the door behind him, "Usual rules – no leaving the room, no answering the door to anyone and no killing each other."
"What about that other hunter?" Sam asked, coming closer to the driver's door.
"That includes him." John ordered, a shadow passing over his face, "He deals with me and me alone."
The pair of them nodded, adding an obedient 'yes sir' to their reply before he rolled his window back up and pulled out of the car park. He was already gone before they finally went into the room.
Sam watched his brother closely, noting the way he favoured one side and grimaced when he moved too quickly. He grabbed his book from the table and wandered over to where Dean had dropped onto the bed, plonking himself on the floor beside it.
"Quit it Sam."
"Not doing anything." The fourteen year old shot, flipping through the pages to find his place.
"You're hovering."
"No I'm not."
Dean sighed and looked down at Sam, "I'm fine Sam, so just quit bugging me."
"Dad told me everything you know." He declared suddenly, letting the book fall closed.
"No he didn't"
"He told me you got hurt." Sam insisted, watching his brother carefully once again.
"No he didn't." Dean repeated, glaring hard at his younger brother who immediately picked himself up, only to plonk down on the spare bed and fold his arms in a silent huff, "You're a crap lair."
"So are you."
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Present Day
Sam stared hard at the drying blood on the door and shook his head, he couldn't help but wonder how long before someone noticed it… or how long before the manager noticed and tried to kick them out. That would be just what they needed. He closed the door and turned back into the room where Dean had pulled open the laptop on the table.
"So how do we kill this thing?"
"Bull horn tipped with gold." Dean replied simply, hand hovering over his cell phone for a moment before returning to the laptop.
"A what now?" Sam raised an eyebrow and took a seat opposite Dean, resting his elbows on the table.
"I ain't repeating myself Sammy."
"Fine… fine… is that how you and Dad killed it before?"
Dean's fingers froze for a second and Sam saw his eyes shift to the side for a second before returning to whatever he was doing. Asides from that, he acted as if he hadn't even heard Sam.
"Dean?"
"No."
At that, Sam straightened himself up and looked his brother up and down, brow creasing slightly, "What do you mean 'no'?"
"We couldn't find one."
"Then how did you kill it?"
Dean paused again, looking away before letting his eyes lock with Sam's. For a moment, Sam thought he wasn't going to answer and for a moment – he wasn't going to. "We didn't."
"Then what? You just let it go?" Sam asked incredulously.
"We found some incantation, okay? Sent it to Hell…"
"Then how did it get out?"
Dean lifted at eyebrow at Sam, a sardonic smile appearing on his face, "How did a lot of demons get out?"
Sam nodded thoughtfully, knowing exactly what Dean was implying. When the Hell Gate opened it let a lot of nasty demons out.
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