A/N: I am back up and running (after that rather unfortunate incident with the cable guy) I actually should update very regularly with this fic because most of it is finished! (Does the happy dance of the almost finished fic) I just have to make sure that it is reader ready (meaning its atrocity doesn't burn off your eyebrows) and I'll try not to make it so angsty, but you know (or you probably don't, but you will know) that I am a sucker for the sad Winchesters, can't help it, it's a disease. Well, much love to you for reading (which I'm assuming that you're doing by being on this page) and as always reviews are what keep me alive. Deedeesmith
Summary: A picture long since faded brings back the memories of a fateful night when magic and brotherhood mixed and love just wasn't enough.
It was storming like the apocalypse outside of the small suburban home and within fifteen minutes every single light had flickered out.
"Damn" he cursed under his breath searching in one of the end tables in the living room for a flashlight. He found a candle but no matches and he couldn't very well light up the room with a stick of wax. Lucky for him a glowing orb was floating down the stairs, apparently his wife had the wherewithal to actually know where the matches were and she was carrying two lit candles into the living room. Behind her two more beams of light shot out at odd angles, his children must have found the flashlights.
"Honey?" She called out looking in the darkness for her husband,
"Over here" he said waving his arm, not realizing that the exercise was futile. She followed his voice and soon enough the small family was in a circle in the living room, a small patch of light encasing them in the darkness.
"Daddy, what do we do now?" His little girl asked, big brown eyes pleading with her father to have the answer. Before he could reply another voice spoke up,
"Hey Dad, who's this?" His son was ten and had given up "daddy" this year. He looked over at his boy and squinted to see what he was holding. It was a picture, a faded picture of a face that he hadn't seen in a long time. He took the picture from his son and determined that it must have fallen out of the end table in his search for a flashlight. He didn't answer right away; he just studied the lines on the young man's face, the smile on his lips and the light in his eyes. This was taken when the young man in it was twenty-eight, he was strong and handsome, not even time could fade away the confidence in his stature and looking at it he was transported back to that day.
"Would you like to hear a story?" He asked lighting his candle. His little girl nodded eagerly and his boy shrugged. He raised an eyebrow to his wife who was smiling at him. She remembered the face in the photo all too well, but she hadn't heard her husband talk about him in a very long time. The man situated himself on the plush couch and leaned foreword trying to tell the story and impart all the wisdom that came with it. "This man had a brother" he started out with an extremely obvious statement, although not that obvious to his kids, "they grew up together in an…" he paused, trying to find the right words, "unusual way. You see their father was determined to –err- get rid of something evil that had hurt their family, something that had taken their mother away."
"A monster?" The little girl asked and he nodded,
"Yes, a monster. So they trained together, and moved together, and for the better part of their formative years they were each others only true friend. However, the younger brother didn't want to continue on with this lifestyle forever, he wanted to go to school, become a lawyer, and start a family. In no way did –hunting- figure in to his life plans. So one day he got accepted into a college, and he left. He left his brother, his only friend, and his angry father, and didn't look back."
"Sam, wait" Dean's voice called out to his brother who had already stormed out of the little house they were staying in. Sam stopped and turned, but he didn't say a word. The clouds overhead were gathering in an ominous way and the air smelled like rain. "You're really serious about leaving, aren't you?" Dean looked at his brother intently and the hurt in his eyes was impossible to hide. Sam lowered his head and all he could manage was a feeble nod. "Look, I mean, I know that our life hasn't exactly been perfect, but you can't just bail, man. I mean…" His voice broke and he had to look away, his brother was too painful a sight right then.
"Yeah, I can, you heard Dad, I'm not welcome any more" Sam said and that forced Dean to look up again.
"Sam, he didn't mean that, he just gets angry sometimes….you know, and he doesn't know what he's saying." Dean was grasping at straws trying to defend his father but the steely look in his brother's eyes told him it was useless. "You just – you can't go, man … I'll, and well what I mean is I'll…." His voice trailed off the sentence too hard for him to speak but Sam gathered the meaning and spoke for him,
"I'll miss you too" he said quietly slinging his bag over his shoulder and nodding to his brother a goodbye that would have been too painful any other way. "But I have to do this" Dean reached out for his brother, but halfway to his wrist he thought better of it and let his arm drop. The tears were biting at the corners of his eyes now and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
"I…" The last of Dean's protest fell limply on the ground, and instead he just nodded pursing his lips into a fine line, "goodbye Sammy" he said, his voice barley above a whisper. Sam's eyes remained tear-less but his gut wrenched as he saw the utter betrayal in his brother's eyes, heard the pain in his brother's broken voice. But, Dean was a part of his past and he had to walk away from the brother he loved dearly so he could have the life he wanted more. As he turned his back to walk away the clouds opened up and a gentle rain fell on top of the parting brother's heads. Dean was grateful for the rain because it masked his tears as he watched his brother walking until he reached the end of the block, not once did Sam glance back at the family he left behind.
When he looked back up from his silent moment of remembrance, there were tears in his wife's eyes, so he hastily continued.
"But one day their father went missing, and Dean had to go and get Sam once again to help him out on the hunt, and so the brothers were reunited. However, something horrible happened and so Sam who was originally only going to stay with his brother for a few days decided to pack it in for the long haul."
"What happened?" His son asked wide-eyed and the man looked at his hands and sighed,
"A fire, son started by a monster. One that killed someone very close to Sam"
"Was it the same thing that took away their mother?" His son asked again and the man nodded solemnly. A hush fell over the tiny audience then as the man continued on with his story.
"So the brothers set out to find their father, and they faced many evil things along the way. Sometimes it was hard to be together all of the time, and they did get into one pretty nasty fight, but all in all they loved each other and they stuck together through thick and thin. Eventually they found their father, it turns out he was close to getting the thing that took their mother away, but he was reluctant to ask his sons for help. However, even though it was hard for the old man to admit, he worked best with his sons and so they went after their enemy as a family." He smiled when he thought of all of the Winchesters being together again, fighting as one solid unit….how he wished that it could have ended with a happily ever after. "I'll spare you the gory details" he said giving a pointed look to his youngest who squirmed in her seat, "but eventually the family came up against what they had been fighting for years, and it took them a while, but they won." His son grinned and nodded, expectantly waiting for the rode off into the sunset part of the story, but there was no happy ending for these knights. "So, once it was all finished, their life's work completed Dean and his father wanted to continue hunting because it had been all they had known for so long. Sam, on the other hand wanted to go back to school, get a good job, lead a normal life. Unfortunately, against his better judgment he agreed to go on one last hunt."
"This is it, you know…my last one" Sam said as he loaded the gun staring off into space, allowing himself to soak in the damp motel room walls, the smell of the questionable bedspread, and the last toilet he ever planned on seeing that required a buck twenty-five if you wanted to use it. He didn't look at his brother, but he could feel the tension that pulsated through him at the mention of his leaving again. He had left once before without warning, but this time he knew Dean was prepared for it. He heard him clear his throat awkwardly and nod,
"Yeah, I know" he said cocking his own gun and walking to the door, hiding his eyes from Sam.
"But you know, I'll keep in touch" he added hopefully, he just wanted to give his brother something to hold onto once he was gone, but his offer fell flat as Dean remembered going two years without hearing from his brother. He remembered the birthday cards and letters, the late night phone messages that he had left for his brother at school, none of which were replied to. Dean never brought it up, but that kind of total rejection by his own brother still stung.
"Yeah….sure" was all that Dean said as they walked out into the prickly night. They were going to end something, something big. All Dean wanted was a little more time with his brother, but their father had been blabbing on for days about this complex black magic, and how exciting it would be to tare down a huge magical wall that…and by this point Dean had spaced, trusting his father to tell him what to do when he needed to do it, and leaving it at that. John didn't look at Sam for awhile, he couldn't help it, but he knew that the boy was going to leave again soon and he didn't want to get too attached, well, more attached then he was already.
Dean was taking the exact opposite approach, spending all of his time with Sam to the point that John asked them when the wedding was going to be. But Dean didn't mind the teasing, so long as he got to be with his brother for their last fleeting moments together, because he knew once they went their own separate ways…it would probably be that way for good. They loaded up their car, filling it with every possible thing they could use to vanquish whatever it was that their father had been talking about, and set out.
They were headed for some gypsy ground where an old friend of John's had called and asked for their help. Apparently four men had dropped dead in as many weeks for no apparent reason. They had looked into it as far as they could and the only thing they came up with was a vengeful spirit of some sort, which was the gypsy equivalent of saying that they had no fucking clue. John, however, had delved much deeper into the legends of the ground and found out what he thought was what was plaguing the band of gypsies. They pulled up to the gypsy ground at around ten o'clock, the sky around them was dark but the caravan was brightly lit with multi-colored lights and lively music made its way to the Winchester's ears. They walked hesitantly up to a very large tent that was made of some sort of navy blue material and trimmed with gold chord.
"John Winchester" a sing-song voice called out to them. They stepped inside the tent and a very attractive middle-aged woman sat inside on a plush chair. "Why I haven't seen you in ages" she cooed walking over to them, "and this must be Dean and little Sam" she said her eyes wide, "not quite so little anymore, is he?" John laughed and ventured to introduce his old friend,
"Boys, this is Alda and old friend of mine" Dean and Sam nodded their hello and Dean raised an eyebrow to his father speculating on how "close" this old friend had been. He ignored his eldest and followed Alda as she sashayed to the back of the tent and bid them to sit. There were four cups of some steaming liquid on a tray. At first the boys were hesitant but their father took one without trepidation so they followed suit to Alda's delight. Immediately after drinking the warm concoction they felt their weariness and cares melt off of them and they became intently focused at their job at hand. Alda was smiling and joking with their father, and even Sam, but for some reason she avoided talking to Dean and when he did see her glance at him she always had an intense sadness in her eyes. This was more then a little freaky to Dean who had no idea what could cause a gypsy to look at him like that, but he ventured to guess that it wasn't good. Halfway through their little chat about nothing in particular some screams from outside the tent distracted them and Alda's face immediately showed the signs of her age as it became filled with worry.
"Dean, go see what that is" John said after a long stare from Alda. Dean was more then happy to oblige and get out of the tent and away from the woman who saw sorrow when she looked at him. Once outside, he found a man in the middle of the circle of tents writhing on the ground in pain.
"What's going on?" Dean asked a nearby man who shook his head in sadness,
"He's been taken over by some demon…he rolls on the ground in pain." Dean didn't miss the obvious fear in the old man's voice as he stepped into the circle to see if he could do anything to help the man. Once he got to him Dean couldn't see any physical injuries on him, and he recognized his fearful outcries not as cries of pain, but that of blind terror.
"Whoa, whoa, your okay man" Dean tried to calm him down but he kept screaming,
"Help me, help me! The mark! I have the mark! I don't want to die! Help me!" Dean at first didn't see what the man was talking about, but slowly a blood red insignia made itself visible on the man's white shirt. It was a symbol that Dean had never seen before, a circle encased in what looked like barbed wire what with all of the criss-crossing lines. Dean brushed the pads of his fingers over the sign and to his surprise it disappeared. The man immediately stopped writhing on the ground and stood up, staring at Dean in amazement. He took a shaky first step towards what must have been his tent and then he walked quite normally the terror gone from his eyes. The crowd of people that had watched the spectacle from inside their own tents flooded the circle and cheered for Dean. The man he saved clapped him on the back quite hard and said,
"You are a truly brave and selfless person, thank you." Dean didn't quite know what was going on, or how he had somehow made the mark disappear, but he took the praise with grudging pride and smiled his thanks to the crowd. At this point Sam, John, and Alda appeared from inside her tent with wide eyes and confused faces.
"What's going on?" Sam asked once Dean tore himself from the grateful hug of the man's wife.
"I don't know….one minute the man was freaking out, the next minute he was fine and dandy. These good people seem to think my brilliance had something to do with it." He said with a lopsided smirk that Sam knew all too well. Sam merely rolled his eyes offering that no response,
"So, what did Dad's friend tell you about our beastie this time?" Dean asked, but before Sam could answer John waved them into a small tent to the right of Alda's. Apparently that was where they were to stay while they figured this whole thing out. Once they were inside the tent Dean repeated his question and Sam nodded taking a long card and a Polaroid from his coat pocket. On the card was the sign that Dean had seen on the man just moments before. A circle encased in criss-crossed lines. On the Polaroid there was a picture of a man who appeared to be sleeping, with the sign obvious in blood red on his chest.
"Is he…"
"-Dead" John finished the sentence for him as he walked out of the tent, his head down still not looking at his youngest son. The boys watched as he met up with Alda outside and she whispered something in his ear. He looked startled and glanced back at the tent that housed his sons before following Alda back into hers. Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Sam who mentally threw up at the idea that Dean was implying. Instead he focused on the sign once more.
"He was the most recent victim; fell just a week ago with no reason for the death, just this odd sign on his shirt." Dean's eyes grew wider,
"Do you know what the sign means?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head,
"No…I've never seen it before, and neither has Alda…but she thinks that it is like a magical seal of some kind, something used to cap off the hex, or spell, or whatever the hell is killing these guys." Dean scratched the back of his head and studied the card closer, there was no question, it was the same sign.
"Does she know how the sign can be taken off of somebody?" Sam shook his head again,
"It can't, it goes down to the bone. The only way to get rid of it is to find someone dumb enough to touch it when it first appears, then the sign is transferred onto them, and the impending death that it signifies belongs to them as well." Dean's eyes now looked like they were going to pop out of his skull in a heartbeat.
"And by impending death you mean…" Sam arched his eyebrow and clarified what he thought was a pretty damn clear statement.
"That whoever touches the sign before the seal is complete will die instead of the person that the seal was originally intended for." Dean felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but he refused to believe what Sam was saying.
"And by die you mean -" Sam put the card down on a rickety old table and looked at his brother like he had five heads,
"I mean no more living, gone, dead." He looked at his brother closer and saw that a wave of nausea was threatening to overcome him, "Dean, what's going on with you?" He asked and his brother reluctantly met his gaze.
"Sam, we might have a problem."