Thank you so much Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading.
Chapter Twenty
Mary weaved them through the traffic, slamming her hand on the horn as a car pulled out in front of them and cursing loudly.
Dean was leaning forward in his seat, his face set with tension. "I knew this was a bad idea," he said, not for the first time.
"I know," Mary said, taking a hard turn and narrowly avoiding a collision with an SUV. "You said."
Neither of them had wanted to leave at first, but Clark had been insistent. He said Sam was relying on Dean too much and he needed to learn to calm himself alone, to stand on his own two feet. He'd made it sound like the bonds between their family were a problem somehow. That had made Dean angry, and harsh words had been exchanged between him and Clark. Mary had worried it was going to come to blows. She had calmed Dean, though, and persuaded him that Clark was the expert. If he thought Sam needed to try it alone, without the choice of having Dean there, they had to trust him. She regretted that now.
"I swear, if someone dies because we weren't there, I will kill Clark," Dean growled.
"No, you won't," Mary said sternly.
Dean snarled. "Sam will never forgive himself if those kids die after he saw it; it will destroy him. If Clark hadn't made us take off for some bullshit reason, we'd have been there already. We could have saved the kids."
"We still can," Mary said soothingly, though she felt the same anger towards Clark. "What Sam saw might not even happen today. Maybe we can get in and clear the house before the kids even get in there."
Dean's eyes fixed on her face. "Do you really believe that?"
Mary took another hard left. "I have to. I have to believe that we're going to be able to go back to Sam and tell him we stopped it."
Dean nodded. "He's going to be a wreck already. I've never seen hurting as much as he is after these visions. It's like he's being attacked by them."
"He is, in a way. But he's fighting back. And Missouri said they'll get easier as he learns control. She doesn't feel any pain using her gift."
"She's not fighting them," Dean pointed out.
Mary nodded and said, "Get ready," as they pulled onto her old street. She saw the Impala parked outside the house and she groaned. "Sam…"
Dean cursed loudly. "He's here!"
Mary skidded to a stop and threw the keys onto Dean's lap as she threw herself out of the car. "Get the weapons."
It was entirely possible that Sam had just come to the house to head off the kids that were supposed to come, that he was fine, but she didn't believe it. She was scared. She understood why her son had come, but she wished he hadn't.
She ran at the house, her heart pounding, and heard Dean behind her. He hadn't had long enough to arm them, and she knew she should go back and get the guns at least, but the draw to her son was stronger. She needed to be sure he was okay.
The door that led to the basement was open, and Mary ran toward it and down the steps. Before she had barely gotten into the room, she sensed the menace within, and she called for Sam, her voice panicked.
There was no reply, but she could hear someone breathing harshly.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted from behind her.
Mary jumped the last two steps and took in the large space. Clark was crumpled in front of the north wall, unmoving, and Mary's eyes slid past him quickly in search of her son.
"Sam," she breathed as she saw him, and then the scene registered and she gasped. He was pressed against the wall, his hands at his sides. His face was white and there was blood on his lips and chin where it had dripped from his nose. The most outstanding part of the scene was the torn pipe that floating in midair in front of him. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it was in him, that it was his own flesh that held it upright, but there was a tiny space between his shirt and the jagged edge of the pipe.
He didn't seem to have registered their arrival, but when Dean ran around Mary where she stood frozen and reached for the pipe, Sam shouted, "No!" in a hoarse voice.
Mary rushed towards him and touched his hand, outstretched at his side. It was chilled. "We've got to get it away Sam," she said. "Me and Dean are going to grab it and you move, understand?"
"No," Sam said. "If you try, I'll lose my grip on it. It's so strong. It's going to stab it right through me if I don't stop it."
"We've got to do something!" Dean said roughly.
"It's a poltergeist," Sam said, drawing a deep breath through his mouth. "Take it out and I'll be okay."
Dean gaped at Mary. "A poltergeist!"
They'd never tackled one before. Mary knew there was a spell to banish one, but she didn't have all the ingredients. She wasn't even sure if she could remember them all.
"We don't know how, Sammy," Dean said. "We've never done it before."
Sam closed his eyes a moment and his face scrunched in pain. "Do something," he said. "I can't hold on much longer."
"Clark," Mary said. "Wake him up."
Dean seemed torn between being close to his brother and helping him, and then he nodded and ran to where Clark lay. He bent down and slapped his face. "You! Wake up! Sam needs you!"
Clark jostled but didn't stir, not even when Dean punched his shoulder hard enough for Mary to wince at the meaty thud.
"Mom!" Sam gasped.
Mary saw it at the same moment. The pipe was shaking hard and edging closer to Sam.
Sam gritted his teeth and then groaned as the pipe pressed against his chest and a spot of blood appeared on his shirt.
"Sammy!" Dean's voice was panicked as he ran back to his brother's side.
"I can't do this," Sam moaned.
"You can," Dean said, his voice calm despite the panic in his eyes. "Just like before. You've got to breathe."
Sam sucked in a deep breath and released it shakily. The pipe stilled, pressed against him, and a new streak of blood trickled from Sam's nose.
"That's it," Dean said encouragingly. "You've got it."
Sam nodded and then his eyes widened as the pipe dropped to the floor and Sam fell away from the wall. "It's coming!"
Dean raced across the room and picked up the shotgun that had fallen beside Clark and then spun on his heel as there was a rushing sound and a fiery figure appeared in front of them.
Mary stood in front of Sam defensively and squared her stance. She had no idea what she could do to protect him, but Sam was pinned to a wall, helpless, and she was going to do whatever she could to shield him.
Dean brought up the shotgun and aimed it at the figure, his finger moving to the trigger and then freezing as Sam shouted, "No, Dean! Don't!"
"Why not?" Dean growled.
"I can see him now," Sam said, his voice breathy.
Dean raised the gun slightly and then dropped it to his side as the fire burgeoned and then faded to reveal the figure, the familiar face, the man.
Mary took an automatic step forward, her heart racing as she took in the man. "John?"
Her voice was a whisper but he heard it.
John smiled, tears in his eyes and he looked at her. "Mary. My girl."
"Dad?" Dean's voice was weak, and he walked towards his father, his face awed and his eyes wet.
"Son," John said, his eyes shining with love as he took Dean in. "Look at you…"
Dean smiled and a tear trickled down his cheek.
His eyes turned back to Mary and she moved closer, her hand reaching out for him and then dropping back to her side as he shook his head no.
"Sorry," he said, his face creasing with regret.
"No," Mary said, her breath hitching in her throat. "I'm sorry."
John frowned and the words left Mary in a rush as the love and guilt swelled in her, making it hard to breathe. "I never meant for it to happen. It should have been me," she said, the weight of her deal pressing down on her heart.
John shook his head briskly. "No, Mary! Never! I would have died for you in a heartbeat, any of you."
"But it was my fault," Mary insisted, her voice cracking. "The debt was mine. I thought it was over."
John's brow creased into a frown, and for a moment she thought he was going to ask what she meant—in that moment of overwhelming emotion, she would have answered him honestly, consequences be damned—but he shook his head and looked past her towards their youngest son, his eyes wet with tears.
Mary stepped aside and watched as John approached Sam where he stood, leaning against the wall for support.
Sam was staring at John with wide eyes and the look on his face was one that Mary had never seen before. It was like a blind man seeing the sunlit sky for the first time. He was awed, drinking in the sight of his father.
"Sammy…" John said, awed. "You're all grown."
Sam smiled, "Dad." The word was laced with love, the very first time Sam was ever able to address his father directly. Mary felt hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
John slowly moved his eyes from Sam to Dean again, and he beamed at him. "My little men are real men now."
Dean nodded, his tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, there was a clatter as the pipe flew from the floor towards Dean's face. It froze an inch from his right eye, and Sam groaned, his eyes fixed on his brother with desperate concentration.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, frozen in place by fear or the poltergeist, Mary wasn't sure which.
"I've got it," Sam said, his voice strained, his back pressed to the wall again. "You're going to be okay."
Mary wanted to go to Dean, to help him, but she knew a wrong move could break Sam's concentration and kill Dean.
John turned away from them and raised his face to the ceiling. "Get away from my family," he commanded, his voice dangerous in a way Mary had never heard before. "Get out of my house. And let go of my sons!"
Mary gasped John's name as flames covered him again and then roared up to the ceiling. They spread, just as they had the night he died, taking over, but this time they disappeared. The pipe clattered to the floor and Dean gasped and rushed toward his brother.
Sam fell away from the wall and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Dean grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, cradling the back of his head as Sam breathed shakily. Mary stared at them for a moment, feeling like an outsider, and then Dean looked over Sam's shoulder and lifted an arm to her in invitation. Mary walked to them and threw her arms around her sons, feeling them move with their heaving breaths, and let herself absorb the relief
She had almost lost them both this night.
Thanks to Sam, Dean was alive, and thanks to John, they all were.
There was a groan from the side and Clark asked, "Okay, who hit me?"
No one answered.
So… What did you think? Unlike some of my stories, I wanted to divert from canon events as much as I could in this one. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have them see John again, so I revisited the idea of Home. It had many incarnations as an idea, and this was the finished result. Hope you enjoyed.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx