Blast from the Past

by FraidyCat

Disclaimer: All things Supernatural owned and operated by CW, Eric Kripke, et al.

Chapter 12: You Can Take the Boy Out of Hunting…

Sam had finally found his voice, but the words still came out as a whisper. "Your father?"

Dean was much more vocal, struggling to get up while holding his dilslocated arm close to his body. "What 'father', bitch?"

Ruby stopped her slow stroll toward Sam and turned her head to look at Dean. Her smile became a smirk. "I believe your term of endearment for him is 'Yellow Eyes'", she said, and then her own eyes became black.

"Sunova…" Dean began, almost on his feet now, but Ruby simply waved a hand in his direction, pushing Dean backwards a few feet, pinning him against the nearest tree, and stealing his voice.

The violent assault snapped Sam out of his shock, and he jumped to his feet, pulling the sawed-off out of the weapons bag as he rose. When he aimed the shotgun at Ruby, she laughed. "Go ahead," she invited. "You don't have what it takes to stop me."

Sam fired twice; when he saw the rounds pass through her as if she wasn't even there, Sam dropped the shotgun on the ground and started to move to Dean. Ruby held up a hand in warning. "You don't want to do that," she said. "I can kill him without even looking."

Sam stuttered to a stop in the middle of the clearing. Ruby again smiled, and began to walk toward him — but was distracted by John's body, still lying at the base of the tree where the hybrid had thrown him. "Let's see what we have here," she said casually, altering her trajectory. When she reached John, she leaned to look more closely at him, then stood and circled his body. Finally she sighed. "This IS a shame," she said, kicking at his shoulder, and rolling John onto his back. "Father wanted to do this himself. He had such plans."

Sam sank to his knees, eyes fixed on the sharpened wooden stake that John had fallen onto; the stake that was now half-buried in his chest. "No…" he moaned. "Please, no…"

Ruby laughed and stepped back into the clearing. "Daddy Winchester shouldn't fly when carrying sharp objects," she teased cruelly, then tilted her head. "Don't worry," she told Sam. "He probably didn't feel a thing — the collision with the tree broke his neck."

Sam tore his eyes away from his father long enough to look at Dean, who was still pinned to the tree, disbelief and anger warring on his features as he stared at John.

Sam looked up at Ruby. "Why are you doing this?" he begged. "What do you want?"

Ruby twirled a strand of long brunette hair around her finger. "Daddy's not my fault. The hybrid did that. As for the rest of it — destroying the hybrids, saving YOUR life, Sam Winchester — well, I have my orders. Can't let you get killed until my father is ready for you."

Sam was crying, now, looking at Dean again. "Please let him go."

Ruby looked at Dean, as if she was contemplating the request — then shrugged. "I don't think so. He was really rude to one of my father's other children — Meg — and you're the only one I have to keep alive. I can kill anyone else I want to." She laughed, her eyes going black again, as she lifted a hand in Dean's direction.

"I said, Let. Him. Go." Ruby hesitated, turned her head back towards Sam, and frowned when she saw that he was on his feet — and the sawed-off was pointed up at his own chin. "You want to go back to Yellow Eyes and explain what happened when I blew my own head off?" he challenged. "Release Dean now, or I promise you, that is what you are going to have to do." He put his finger on the trigger.

Ruby snarled, the sound inhuman. "Fine," she growled, lowering her hand. Dean slid down to the base of the tree, then immediately began trying to stand again. "I'll even fix that pesky shoulder," Ruby said. Another quick flick of her wrist, and Sam could hear the sickening pop as Dean's shoulder slid back into place. Dean screamed at the sudden pain, and Sam started moving towards him again.

Ruby let him go. "Try not to miss me while I'm gone," she said. "One of us is always near." With that, she vanished from the clearing; Sam stumbled in surprise, and stopped to look around.

By now, Dean was on his feet and moving, his shoulder painful, but not inhibiting his rush to John's body. He slowed down enough to grab Sam by the arm as he passed — then they both hurried to the edge of the clearing, dropping to their knees as soon as they reached John.

"Dad," called Dean softly, his hand hovering uncertainly over the end of the stake. "Dad?"

Sam's immediate attention had gone to John's head, which lie at an unnatural angle on the forest floor. John's eyes were wide open, seeing nothing as he stared at the sky. "He's gone, Dean," Sam whispered, falling back onto his heels. Horrified eyes met horrified eyes, as the two brothers stared at each other, their father's body between them. "Dear God…he's gone."

SPN * SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN • SPN

Sam had hiked three hours back toward Portland before his phone began to receive a signal again. Now he sat in an open area almost too small to be considered a clearing, waiting for Garth, and remembering the moments following his father's death.

"Dear God…he's gone", he had said, looking at his brother.

Dean shook his head, lowering his gaze to John. "No," he whispered, pawing clumsily at the stake protruding from John's chest. "We'll take it out, we'll just take it out…" — he glanced up quickly at Sam, then back down at his father — "…help me take it out…"

Sam reached out to still Dean's hand. "It won't help," he said gently. "Look at his neck, Dean."

Sam fell back on his haunches and watched Dean tenderly cradle their father's head. He wondered briefly why neither of them was crying, and eventually attributed it to shock. After a silent minute had passed, Sam spoke again. "What should we do?" he asked. "I don't know what to do."

Dean looked up at him in a rage so sudden that it took Sam's breath away. "Haven't you done enough?" Dean growled. "You called us out here on this stupid hunt in the first place!"

Dean looked back down at his father and Sam felt the tears he had been missing pressing at the back of his eyes. He shook his head. "I never…Dean, you know I would never…"

Dean didn't even look at him when he interrupted. "What do I know, Sam? I know that you've been fighting with Dad most of your life. I know that the peace between you two was always fragile, at best. I know that the both of you made my life miserable every time I had to tear you apart. And I know that you called us here."

Sam grunted as if he had been gut-punched. "God, Dean," he whispered brokenly, and Dean finally looked up again.

At first his expression was still enraged; then regret and horror passed over his face. "I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "Sammy, I didn't mean that…"

But Sam was climbing to his feet, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the clearing. "We need another hunter," he said, ignoring Dean's apology. He glanced toward the trees where the three of them had first entered the clearing. "Garth is still in Portland," he murmured, turning to walk toward those trees. "I'll hike back that way until I pick up a phone signal, and I'll call Garth."

Dean continued to kneel on the ground beside their father. "Sam," he said, but his brother just kept walking. Dean swallowed, watching Sam push through the trees and into the forest. Dean stared after him, and spoke once more. "Be careful…"

Now Sam brushed his hand across his eyes and remembered. He had heard his brother's final "Be careful", and he told himself, not for the first time, that the things Dean had said to him before that were born from pain and shock. He thought again of his father, and fresh tears welled, then ran unchecked down the planes of his face. "I hope he knew I loved him," he whispered.

Just then Garth, with a hunter's silence, pushed through the brush and appeared before him. Sam looked up from his position on the ground, and Garth extended a hand to help him up. "What happened?" the other hunter questioned.

Sam quickly wiped his eyes again, then took Garth's hand and levered himself to a standing position. "The…the hybrid, it…wasn't alone." He shook his head. "I'm not sure — I was watching Dean part of the time — Dad was thrown one way, and Dean the other. They both hit trees…Dad…Dad broke his neck, and…" — he shrugged and swallowed, seeing again the stake protruding from John's chest — "well, you'll see…" he finally finished lamely.

Garth winced, shaking his own head. "Damn. John Winchester was the best hunter I ever worked with." Then he changed the subject, speaking sharply. "What about the hybrids? And Dean?"

"Dean's…okay, physically," Sam replied, not meeting Garth's eyes. "The hybrids are…taken care of…Dean can tell you…we need to get back there."

Garth clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder when the taller man turned away from him to head back into the forest. "Let's go," he agreed. "And Sam…I'm really sorry about John."

Sam just nodded. I am, too, he thought, pushing through the brush and following his own earlier tracks. I am, too.

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It was nearing dusk when the two of them reached the clearing.

Pushing through the foliage, Sam saw that Dean had taken off his jacket, and covered John's face with it. His brother was walking out of the cave; Sam looked at him quickly, and just as quickly looked away.

Garth was shrugging off a backpack. "Dean," he greeted. "I'll help however I can. I brought a hunter's shroud with me, if you want to take your jacket back." Dean nodded silently, and the two of them met over John's body.

Sam followed a few steps behind Garth. "A hunter's shroud?"

Dean reclaimed his jacket, looking at his father one last time, then nodded at Garth. He stepped between his father's body and Sam. "It's what Dad wanted," he said to his brother, taking him by the upper arm. "Come with me, Sam."

Sam let himself be dragged across the clearing, toward the cave. Dean flicked on a flashlight as they entered, and Sam looked around, surprised. He had expected a Wendigo's cave to be messy — littered with bones, and leftover food — but this one was spotless. There was still a pungent odor; after all, two hybrids had been living here — but the cave was even cleared of the brush that should have been there naturally. "Did you clean the cave?" he asked, confused.

Dean suddenly shut off the flashlight, and the two of them stood just inside the entrance of the cave, in the near darkness. Sam was startled, but Dean's hand was still warm on his arm, so he wasn't afraid. "Sam," he heard Dean say, "I'm sorry I said what I did. I want you to believe that."

Sam felt a modicum of relief — but he was old enough to understand that even words spoken in despair and agony often come from a kernel of truth; part of Dean believed what he had said. Still, Sam accepted the apology for what it was. "I know," he replied. Dean still hadn't let go of his arm.

His brother now coughed once to clear his throat, then spoke again. "Dad and I…", he began,"we've been hunters. For years."

Sam scrunched up his face in confusion. "I…know," he said again.

Dean continued. "We talked about this — about what to do, if one of us didn't make it through a hunt."

Sam considered. What wasn't Dean telling him? "Okay," he finally said.

Dean sighed, finally letting go of Sam's arm. "Sammy…Dad wanted a hunter's funeral."

Sam shifted. "So, what? Do we call Bobby, and he puts out the word in the community, or something?"

He could feel Dean shaking his head beside him. "No, Sam…a hunter's funeral…he didn't want to be susceptible to anything, to come back as a vengeful spirit, or maybe even worse. He didn't want to become something other hunters would have to hunt."

Sam was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "So what does that mean?" he asked softly.

Dean's reply was in a voice just as soft. "It means that Garth is wrapping him in a shroud right now. When he's done, the three of us will move Dad's body into this cave, so that normal forest animals don't come after him tonight. The three of us will stay out in the clearing, and keep watch." Sam nodded, hoping Dean could sense the movement in the dark cave. He didn't trust himself to speak. "In the morning," Dean continued, "we'll burn him."

Sam bolted from the cave, Dean following quickly. Midway through the clearing, Sam found his voice, and turned to face his brother. "You'll burn down half of Oregon!" he accused.

Dean kept his voice calm. "That's why I cleaned out the cave. Ordinarily, it's done outside, with a funeral pyre…but you're right, that would be too dangerous. So we'll…we'll start the fire deep in the cave, and the three of us will be out here to make sure nothing gets out of control. We have a lot of holy water with us…"

Garth had finished with John's body and now approached the brothers respectfully. "And I packed in a small fire extinguisher," he offered helpfully. "We probably won't need any of that. Dean and I have done this before…for other hunters."

Now Sam felt sick again. "Dean," he all-but pleaded, not even sure what he wanted to beg for.

Garth took a step closer, holding out his hands in the near-dark. "I thought you might want these," he said, and the brothers looked to see John's watch, a wedding ring, and a battered wallet in Garth's hands.

Sam took a step backwards. "Oh, my God," he groaned. Dean didn't look anxious to accept the offerings, either.

Garth pulled back his hands. "I'll…put them in John's pack," he said, and neither brother argued with him. Garth nodded silently, then looked around the clearing until he spied John's discarded backpack near the mouth of the cave.

While Garth was walking toward the pack, Dean glanced at his now-shrouded father, then looked back at his brother. "He loved you, you know," he said. He grinned, a little bitterly. "You frustrated the hell out of him sometimes, but he always loved you."

"I'll…try…to do what he wanted," Sam answered, after a few moments of silence passed between the brothers. "I'll try, because I loved him, too."

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Garth, a wet bandana over his mouth and a small fire extinguisher in his right hand, disappeared into the smoky cave. The brothers Winchester stood silently side-by-side in the clearing, and waited. Several minutes and one empty fire extinguisher later, Garth coughed his way into the clearing again, where the sun shone brightly in a sort of cosmic insult to the darkness of the day. "It's done," he said. "Fire's completely out."

Dean nodded twice, then leaned to pick up the backpack at his feet. He shrugged it onto his shoulders as he straightened, then helped his brother settle his own pack on his back. While they were doing this, Garth crossed to his own pack, put the empty fire-extinguisher inside, then swung the pack around towards his back. He was still shrugging to settle the pack as he walked up behind Dean and Sam. Sam bent to pick up the weapons duffle while Dean leaned to grab his father's pack. "Let's go," Dean said, feeling the weight of John's pack in his hand. He tightened his grip and led the trio toward the edge of the clearing. "Let's get the hell out of here."

End, Chapter 12