A/N Hello! I had no clue that it was going to take me this long to get this story up and going, but at long last, we are here! Sorry for the wait :) Just like I have done in times past, I will be updating every Tuesday (or really, really, early Wednesday).
Also, this story is set in Season Thirteen, between episode 6 'Tombstone', and episode 7 'War of the Worlds'. I love season 13 (it is by far my favorite of the last few seasons) but it has also been a hot second since I have watched it all consecutively, so if something doesn't fit or is out of place...that would be why. Along the same lines, I know nothing about boats. At all. So...yeah.
I hope that you enjoy!
An Anchor to My Soul
Chapter One
Dean looked around as Sam exited the bathroom, and did a double take as he took in the suit that Sam was wearing. "Dude, you do know that we are ordering pizza, like, right now?" he said, gesturing at the phone that Cas was examining with a look of profound concentration.
Sam shrugged, digging through the duffle on his bed and looking for a tie. "I know, I'll be quick."
Dean frowned suspiciously as Sam began to knot the tie around his neck. "Where are you going? It's almost eight, no one's gonna want to talk to you all spoofed up or not. Unless," he added with a sudden leering grin, "You've got a date. Was it old Ms. Mallory? Cougars always did have a thing for you."
Sam scoffed. "Dean, it's not a date. And I'm not a moron, I'm not showing up unannounced."
"So, it is a date?"
"Dude, no." Sam gave Dean a dark look, one that said that he wasn't in the mood for the usual banter, even if Dean was.
"Who the hell are you meeting with then?"
Shrugging on his suitcoat, Sam sighed. "Look, we finished the hunt, and, well, I heard of someone here who has certain…ocular knowledge that the Men of Letters probably never had access to. I'm just going to talk with him."
Dean's frown was back. "And I suppose that it was a complete coincident that we ended up here in Oregon on a hunt right where this man lives?"
Sam huffed. "That poltergeist was a real hunt, Dean, and if it just so happened to be here in Newport where Mr. Sato lives, well…two birds, one stone."
"Right." Dean shook his head. He knew exactly why Sam had waited until the last minute to tell him of this new agenda—Dean had made it no secret that he thought Sam was wasting his time trying to find a way to save an already dead Mary—and he didn't want to pick a fight. Not when things were going so well, but…
This didn't sit well with him. Sam was going to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed and be more dispirited than he had been before.
Cas didn't look up from the phone but turned slightly towards Sam. "Should I change the time that we pick up the pizza? I think that I can do that…oh, no, wait—" Cas raised his head, looking thoroughly disgruntled. "I tried to change the time, and I think I just deleted our order."
Dean rolled his eyes and reached back to snatch his phone away from him. "Seriously?! We've already tried to put the order in twice now."
"Well, maybe you humans should create systems that function properly."
Dean was about to retort that he would like to see angels come up with something better when Sam slipped through the door, calling as he did so, "I'll be back in an hour or two. Don't hold the pizza."
"Damnit." Dean stood, thrusting his phone back at Cas. "Don't touch anything, I wanna talk with Sam."
Cas caught the phone even as he made direct eye contact with Dean. "Be gentle," he reproached loud enough for Dean to hear as he shut the door.
Another time, Dean would have been incredibly irked that Cas thought he knew how to treat Sam better than he did—be gentle, my ass—but he was just still so damn relieved that Cas was alive that he was willing to let it pass without comment.
"Sam! Hold up!"
Sam had already reached the edge of the parking lot and he turned around, surprised, and waited for Dean to catch up with him.
"I'm just talking with him, Dean. I'm not going to do something drastic without talking to you first," Sam said wearily.
"So this is about finding a way into that alternate world to find Mom?" Dean challenged, folding his arms across his chest. Sam shifted, looking like he was just resisting the urge to take a defensive stance himself.
"We're also trying to find where Jack went, in case you forgot. Maybe it's about that."
"No, this is about Mom. You would have clued us in about Jack."
"I mean, does it matter if it's about Mom or Jack?" Sam snapped as he looked away, not meeting Dean's eyes as he kicked a small rock into the street.
"Sammy…we've been over this," Dean said, suddenly feeling tired himself. "Mom's dead. Even if we could find another way to open a portal to that world, she's gone. She's not…she's not coming back."
"We don't know that," Sam protested stubbornly. "What if she is alive? We can't just leave her there! Mom will be expecting us to find her, to be looking for a way to rescue her, to bring her back! Why is it that—" He stopped speaking abruptly, his lips thinning into a bitter look.
"What?" Dean asked in exasperation but Sam just shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. That's not what this is about."
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam spoke before he could. "I'm just talking with Mr. Sato. I'm not doing anything else, so can we save this argument for another night?"
This time, it was Dean who hesitated, unsure of how to put into acceptable words what he wanted to say.
"Sam, we have Cas back. We can't expect two miracles, that's not how this works. Hell, typically we don't get even that, so let's just celebrate that win, just for tonight, okay? Come back in, eat some pizza, and we'll turn on a crappy movie that we can make fun of."
Dean met Sam's eyes steadily, silently asking for him to give in, asking for this one thing.
He wanted to forget, just for a moment, about what had happened to their mother, about the fact that he had lost her not once, but twice. Everything had looked so dark after Mom and Cas had died that dreadful night, he had felt like he was suffocating as the darkness swallowed him whole.
Cas's return had brought hope and light back into his life, and he wanted Sam out of that pit of darkness as well. He wanted to see hope again in Sam's eyes. Sam didn't need to keep punishing himself or working to the bone. He deserved to take a break with them. To be happy, even if it was just for a night.
"Dean…"
Dean's shoulders slumped.
He knew that look and tone. Sam was going to go, and nothing Dean said could stop him. "Sammy, c'mon…you've been workin' on findin' Jack and Mom for days now. Jack will come back when he's ready. Take the night off."
"I will," Sam said hurriedly, and Dean knew that one way or another that would be a lie, even if Sam didn't intend for it to be. "As soon as I get back, I'll be done. But I've got to talk to Mr. Sato. We've already set up a time to meet and I won't feel right if I just didn't show up. Besides, I've never read anything in the Men of Letters archives about what he was describing, I've got to check it out."
"Okay. Okay, I understand," Dean forced a smile, trying to keep his voice light. He thought that he might have succeeded as the lines in Sam's face eased. "Hey, call me if you need anything or if you want a ride back. Where are you goin' anyway?"
Sam straightened, his posture relaxing. "I will, but I shouldn't be that long, just an hour or two tops. I'm meeting Mr. Sato down at the docks, on his boat."
"And you're sure that's safe?" Dean couldn't help but ask as unease sparked. Docks weren't typically the safest place to be after dark from his personal experience, and he didn't know anything about this Mr. Sato person.
"Dude—" Sam said pointedly, and Dean gave a self-deprecating shrug. Sam had proven again and again that he could handle himself just fine.
"Alright, I get it, you're a grown-ass man. I'm still coming after you though if you aren't back by midnight. And you should text me the address, just in case."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sam called over his shoulder as he resumed walking, and stuck his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill that was in the air.
Dean shivered as well. November in Oregon couldn't be considered warm in any way and he turned back to the motel room.
Sam would be fine.
Cas, on the other hand, couldn't be trusted to order a pizza in person, never mind on an app. With Dean's luck, he was going to accidentally order it for tomorrow, or only get half the order and Dean's stomach couldn't afford either one.
#
The cold was a growing discomfort as Sam made his way to the docks, and he half wished that he had brought more than just his suitcoat but he wasn't turning back now. He had only just gotten Dean's blessing to go in the first place and he wasn't about to have the discussion again.
Besides, the docks weren't far from their motel and the walk would give him time to think and to be alone.
If Dean would have known that, he probably would have insisted on driving him. Dean thought that he got lost in his head too much, that he overthought things, and maybe he was right.
Sam didn't know anymore.
Maybe he was stupid for thinking that Mary was still alive, for believing that Lucifer hadn't killed her immediately…but he knew Lucifer. He knew him better than Dean did, better than Cas as well. Actually, he probably knew Lucifer better than any being on the planet after their time together in the cage.
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather came over Sam.
Lucifer would torture Mary rather than kill her, and he would take vicious delight in the knowledge that Sam knew it.
Sam frowned down at the sidewalk, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
He wouldn't wish that fate upon anyone, never mind his own mother.
And if she was alive, well, Sam also wasn't going to let another family member down by not looking for them, for presuming them dead. The last time he had done that it had ended…badly seemed like too light of a term for it. Dean had been beyond angry at him after he found out that Sam hadn't looked for him while he was in Purgatory.
Sam wasn't letting that happen again, especially not with Mary. He wasn't going to let her down like he had Dean.
Not when he didn't have that bedrock of unconditional love as he did with Dean. Not when their relationship was still so tentative and unsure…nothing like Dean and Mary's had been. Sure, Dean had had his up and downs with their mother, but Mary had at least been willing to talk more deeply to Dean, to call him for help.
It took effort to squash the bitterness and jealousy that reared up in his chest hot and strong.
It wasn't Dean's fault that he was her favorite. There was just something about Dean that drew people in and made them like him. Sam didn't really have that, and he was okay with it, he really was. He had long ago made his peace with Dean being most people's first choice.
But this was Mary, his mother. He wasn't asking to be her favorite, he just wanted to get to know her, have her get to know him. If Mary would have just tried…he needed this second chance almost as much as Mary needed saving.
Sam broke himself out of his dark thoughts as he found himself approaching the docks. The ocean was mostly calm tonight, the waves breaking gently up against the boats. It was peaceful in a way that his life never had been.
Despite his years traveling the country, Sam had not spent a lot of time at the docks, or on the ocean for that matter, and it took him several minutes to locate the right area, and then the right boat, the Ichika.
Mr. Sato didn't appear to be there yet, but Sam was a little early so it was understandable. Leaning up against the metal railings to wait, Sam pulled out his phone.
It would give him a moment to peruse the most recent documents he had found about alternate universes, anyway. They had been helpful, somewhat, but they also had large gaps that he was having trouble filling in. He had already spent a painstakingly large amount of time adding to the Men of Letters archives on the subject, but he had little to show for all his work.
Mary's survival depended on him, on his ability to fill it in, and he was failing miserably.
Mary wasn't the only one depending on him, though. Dean was riding the high of Cas's return, but how long was it going to last? When the low hit, was Sam going to be able to help, or would he remain as useless as he had thus far been with Mary's rescue? It felt like he had done a pretty damn poor job the last few weeks when Dean was so low. When his brother had pulled that little suicide stunt with the ghosts…Sam had never felt more like a failure than at that moment.
On top of that, they needed to find Jack as well. The kid wasn't that old, not really, and—in no small part thanks to them—had some pretty screwed up misconceptions about himself, about his worth. He needed to be guided, to be led. Needed to be with Cas who would help him more than—
The splash of a rock hitting the water made Sam jump, and he looked around to see a young boy leaning over the railing several yards away, grinning. He scooped another rock out of his pocket. Tossing it as far as he could manage into the ocean, he thrust a fist into the air joyfully as it created an even bigger splash. He looked over his shoulder, chattering happily at a man who was watching him with a soft smile.
"Mr. Sato?" Sam called out, fumbling his phone away into his suitcoat pocket. Mr. Sato made eye contact and raised a hand in greeting. He tapped the boy on the shoulder, and they began to make their way toward him.
"Sam Winchester," Mr. Sato said in a heavy Japanese accent as he reached out, shaking Sam's hand. It was a firm grip that Sam easily returned. Mr. Sato pointed at the young boy. "This is Gordon, my son. He wished to come along. It will not bother you…?"
"No, no. Of course not, as long as you are alright with it," Sam said, his lips twitching upwards as Gordon pulled out another rock and heaved it into the ocean.
"Gordon." Mr. Sato gave Gordon a pointed look and Gordon shot ahead of them, scampering over to the ramp that led to the boat. Mr. Sato smiled at Sam, gesturing for him to follow.
"I am sorry that we had to meet so late, we had a family event before this," he said as they walked.
"No need to apologize," Sam said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm just grateful that you are willing to meet with me."
"Of course."
Gordon was already on the boat, waiting impatiently for them to catch up. Sam carefully climbed aboard and resisted the brief urge to grab ahold of the safety railings as the boat rocked under his feet.
Gordon has seen his moment of hesitation and was smirking.
"How old are you?" Sam asked, forcing himself to relax.
"Eight. Almost nine though. My birthday's in January."
Sam couldn't even remember what it felt like to be that young, but he felt himself fighting a smile at the boy's exuberance.
"This way," Mr. Sato motioned towards a small doorway that led below deck. "We can talk privately down there. And watch yourself, please. It can be slippery."
Sam nodded, following Gordon as he once again took the lead. Ducking through the doorway, he found himself in a small, cramped, area that was loaded with fishing gear.
Gordon skipped right to the back corner, pulling at a small plastic box in the corner. It looked to be filled with small toy soldiers, and he began to set them up along a bench that ran the length of the room. Mr. Sato gestured to the bench closer to the door, and Sam sat down.
"I am happy to talk with you, but I would also like to keep this brief if you don't mind," Mr. Sato began, sitting down between Gordon and Sam. "It is a school night and the docks are not always as safe at night as they used to be. Especially for us," he added in a soft, almost ashamed tone.
Sam opened his mouth to ask what he meant but thought better of it. It wasn't his right to pry. "Right, ah…" Sam took a moment to compose his thoughts. "One of my sources told me that your great-great-grandfather had passed down a token from another world? Is that true?"
Mr. Sato pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Before we continue, why do you desire such information, and what do you intend to do with it? This is a treasured family belief that I will not have mocked."
Sam sighed, clasping his hands together. He didn't want to go into all…that, but it was a fair question, and one that deserved an honest answer, or at least as honest as he could give. He didn't know if Mr. Sato believed in the Bible, but Lucifer probably wasn't the best person to start with nor was the fact that he was simply trying to connect with his mother who had actually been dead for most of his life.
Instead, he simply said that his mother had disappeared into what he believed to be an alternate reality and that he was trying to find her.
It took over an hour before Mr. Sato and Sam were both satisfied with the information given and received. Despite his early request for efficiency, Mr. Sato had taken great care in explaining how his great-great-uncle had traveled to a new world, returning with strange coins and clothes as proof. He had returned to the alternate world, to gather more evidence for disbelievers, only to never return.
Mr. Sato then reverently produced a strange-looking piece of metal, showing it to Sam.
"When I came to America twenty years ago," he said as he hovered over Sam's shoulder while Sam examined the coin, "I promised my father that I would never lose that coin, that I would treasure it above my own life. I have done so."
"I understand." Sam gently passed the coin back. Returning to his notebook where he had been keeping detailed notes of their conversation, he quickly added a note of the strange markings on the coin.
Racking his brains and coming up with nothing else to ask, Sam flipped the small notebooks shut and gave Mr. Sato another smile. "Thank you for your time."
"Of course. May I?" Mr. Sato gestured at the notebook and Sam pulled it defensively back. Seeing the look on his face, Mr. Sato added in explanation, "I want to make sure that you have it down correctly, so that you may find your mother."
Sam frowned a little but reluctantly opened the notebook to the correct page—Mr. Sato didn't need to be reading about wendigos or ghosts or whatever else Sam had written in there over the years—before passing it over. Mr. Sato nodded, his face scrunching up in concentration.
A group of people outside laughed loudly, and Sam looked around out of habit before shaking his head. Leaning back against the bench, he fought the urge to stand up and start pacing. He didn't do well with nothing to do anymore, he felt like he should be doing something, he had to be doing something. He was wasting time just sitting here, not when there were files to look over, articles to be read…
"Do you miss your Mom?" Gordon's question took him by surprise and Sam looked over. He had stopped playing with the plastic soldiers and was watching Sam with his head cocked to the side.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do," Sam said softly.
Gordon nodded. "I miss my sister, sometimes. She's staying with Grandma and Grandpa for a year, they live back in Japan."
"That must be hard. I have a brother, and there have been times when he has had to go away and that was never easy." Those were times that Sam didn't dwell upon if he could help it.
"I wish that I had a brother. But I only have sisters." Gordon frowned and Sam scoffed a laugh.
"If it's any consolation, I used to sometimes wish that I had a sister instead of a brother."
Gordon made a disbelieving face. "You wouldn't, not if—"
The boat rocked as someone jumped on board.
All three of them looked upwards, and then Gordon froze, a look of terror on his young face.
"Otocahn?" he whispered but Mr. Sato's hand rose, calling for silence. Sam looked between them, unease filling his stomach as the hair on the back of his neck rose to stand on end.
Muted laughter came from above and Mr. Sato cast a look first at Gordon and then at Sam. There was fear there, Sam could read it even if he doubted that Gordon could.
Reaching behind him, Sam slipped his gun free from where it had been resting at the small of his back. Ten years ago, he probably wouldn't have had a weapon on him for such a meeting, but too many things had happened since then and he was no longer as innocent.
"Do you want me to go see what's happening?" he left the whispered question hanging, quiet enough that only Mr. Sato would hear. Mr. Sato violently shook his head, pointing at himself.
"I will go."
The laughter was louder, and now they could hear multiple voices talking over each other as the boat rocked under their feet.
Sam hesitated. He didn't know the situation, and he wasn't sure that it was his place to jump in, but…Sam knew a lot of things that Mr. Sato never would and could protect himself and them if it came down to it.
Mr. Sato turned to Gordon and gave him hurried instructions in Japanese. Gordon began to shake his head, and Sam could see tears springing up in his eyes.
"No!" he protested, and Mr. Sato flinched, covering his mouth with one hand while jabbing a finger towards the bench, once again speaking in Japanese. The message was clear. Gordon was to stay down below, away from any sort of danger.
Sam stood. "I'm coming with you."
Mr. Sato shook his head again, and this time pointed at Sam, and then Gordon. "Stay with him, please."
"No, I'm coming." Sam swelled to his full height, fully prepared to assist in any way that he could. Mr. Sato struck him as a good man, and Sam wasn't going to sit by passively in what could become a dangerous situation.
Mr. Sato looked distressed, but before he could say anything else the boat roared to life. Sam jumped, and Mr. Sato looked up in alarm.
He uttered something in Japanese and began to run up the steps. Sam swiveled, pointing at Gordon. "Stay here, whatever you hear, okay?" he ordered, before following Mr. Sato. He stuck his gun in his pocket where it would be within easy reach should he need it but also out of sight. It was possible that they could talk themselves out of this and he didn't want to further escalate the situation by showing up with a weapon.
"Stop! Stop!" Mr. Sato yelled at the top of his lungs as he burst onto the main deck.
"Hell—!" A large and burly man that was leaning against the wheelhouse flinched, flinging himself around. He stumbled, throwing out the hand that wasn't holding a mostly empty bottle of whiskey to catch ahold of the railing.
Three other men were hunched around the wheel, and they turned around at the cry.
"You—you aren't supposed to be here," the man said, swiping at his mouth. Two of the three other men moved down from the helm and Sam eyed them darkly.
"Stop this right now. You must get off this boat, Mr. Jones, off!" Mr. Sato snarled, gesturing first at the middle man who appeared to be the leader, and then towards the docks.
Mr. Jones looked dumbfounded at being caught, his mouth opening and closing, but his expression smoothed over into a sneer. "Sorry, I can't understand you. I don't speak your language."
Sam reared back, feeling sudden and bright anger igniting in his chest and he took a step forward, but it was Mr. Sato who spoke up. "You understood just fine. Now get off this boat."
Mr. Jones wasn't paying him any attention though as he caught sight of Sam. He took a swig from his own bottle of whiskey as he examined him with narrowed eyes.
"And who are you?" he asked, swaying a little. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were bloodshot in the light of the lamps.
"It doesn't matter," Sam said shortly. "You need to leave, as Mr. Sato has asked."
Mr. Jones sneered at him taking a step back so that he was surrounded by his cronies. "Nah…me and the boys, we don't feel like it, do we? Besides, who are you to boss us around?"
A muscle in Sam's jaw twitched as he made to stride forward, but Mr. Sato threw out a hand, stopping him. "No…we do not want violence." He gave Sam a rebuking look.
"We don't want violence," Mr. Jones mocked in an unflattering attempt to copy Mr. Sato's accent and Sam's lip curled.
Mr. Sato didn't react. "Leave," he stated firmly "or I will call the police."
Mr. Jones and the other men laughed. "You can't do that if there's no reception. Donnie!" He looked over his shoulder towards the smallest of the men, who hurried back to the wheel. A moment later, the boat was easing out into the ocean and further away from the docks.
Sam's stomach flipped uncomfortably as he looked around at Mr. Sato, trying to gauge his reaction. This couldn't be good. Mr. Jones was clearly drunk and there wasn't much chance of him listening to reason, not when he was surrounded by his friends to egg him on. They needed to de-escalate the situation and get them back to the docks and dry land.
"Look," Sam began, lowering his voice soothingly as he held up both hands. "You clearly didn't expect Mr. Sato to be here, so how about you dock the boat, and we all get off and go our separate ways? No harm, no foul."
Mr. Jones made a face. "I already told you, pretty boy, we ain't doin' that."
"And why not? I mean, if we all get off the boat and go home then nobody has to get in trouble. I'll even buy you guys a round of drinks at the nearest bar."
Mr. Jones snorted, draining the last of the liquor from his bottle. "No. I'm tired of being cheated by this outsider. We were fishing here before anyone else, our grandaddies were here first, and-and I'm done dealing with him and others like him."
Next to him, Mr. Sato was looking increasingly distressed as he wrung his hands together, casting a glance behind him and presumably towards Gordon. "Please, I have a family I must feed as well. Can we not discuss this off the boat?"
"Shut your mouth!" Mr. Jones hurled the bottle towards the deck, his eyes wide with sudden wrath, and the glass shattered into a thousand pieces. Mr. Sato backed up a step, shocked, even as Sam stepped forward, putting himself firmly between Mr. Sato and the progressively violent men.
"Don't do something that you're going to regret come morning."
"I could say the same to you." Mr. Jones laughed, and it was higher than Sam would have expected, setting his teeth on edge. The other men joined in. "Besides, we're just going ten miles out, right, so just sit tight."
"Why ten?" Sam asked sharply.
Mr. Jones and his men exchanged amused glances. "Seemed like a good number, that's all. "
Mr. Sato probably knew exactly what they were talking about—his face had paled a little—but Sam thought that he could guess.
Twelve miles out to sea would put them out of Oregon's jurisdiction and under Federal law, and that was not something that Mr. Jones would want. Ten miles, on the other hand, would be far enough away from shore to not gather attention, but keep them under state law should their plans go wrong.
Whatever these men were up to, it wasn't good.
The boat, now out in the open sea, took a hard turn, and Sam stumbled slightly, thrown by the movement. None of the other men were affected and Sam's unease rose. He hadn't spent much time on boats and even when he was on one, it typically wasn't moving. These men had spent a lifetime on them…if there was to be a fight, he was going to be at a serious disadvantage, despite the other men being drunk.
As if this night couldn't get any worse…
Mr. Jones was looking at him with an odd expression on his face. "Rob, watch 'em," Sam heard him mutter as he slapped the back of his hand against the chest of the man to his right.
Rob blinked drunkenly over at Sam, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he staggered closer to them.
Mr. Jones wasn't going to listen to reason. Sam had to do something, and surprise would be his only advantage.
He waited until the boat picked up speed again, cresting a wave and making Rob sway. Lunging forward, he twisted Rob's hand behind his back, wrestling the whiskey bottle free, and then threw Rob down to land hard on his side.
Sam flung the bottle off the side of the boat so that no one could use it as a weapon as Rob howled in pain, clutching at his wrist.
"Stay down," Sam warned tightly.
"No!" Mr. Sato was protesting and a moment later the largest man lunged at Sam, who easily moved away from his drunken stagger. Grabbing him by the back of the coat, Sam yanked the man around to face him. His fist clipped Sam's side, but Sam retaliated with a jab to the face. Something crunched, and the man yelled, blood now spurting freely from his nose. Sam yanked him in closer even as he pulled back his fist, preparing to administer a blow that would keep the man down.
"Sam!" Mr. Sato shouted in warning, his voice panicked.
Sam wheeled around.
He would have been able to stop the blow had they been on dry land, but the boat turned sharply just at that moment and Sam lurched to the side, his balance thrown off.
A whiskey bottle, hefted by Mr. Jones and aimed for his head, came down hard.
Blinding pain shot through Sam's skull and he faintly heard the sound of shattering glass mixed with Mr. Sato's protests before consciousness fled and he knew no more.
