First off, once again, thanks to all my reviewers and tell your friends! Yay story!
Secondly, I think I've finally managed to balance this bad boy out. It's not a Sammy fic nor a Dean fic or hell even a John fic. It's a BRYSON FIC! Mwa ha ha! Just kidding!
Thirdly... man I am pumping out chapters so fast because you guys are supporting me so much!
I do think you all will enjoy the little twist toward the end of this chap and I hope you'll let me know if you do. Anyway, back to poor longer suffering Winchesters…
Enjoy!
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The first thing Dean did when he reentered the house was get himself a beer. Something his father openly frowned upon. They sat in silence with the only sound being the crackling fire place and the occasional page turn from John and his journal. Bryson had remained on the couch with a glass of water next to him and would wake up for only brief spurts to drink, before going back to sleep. The little Sprite had done enough for the Winchesters and Dean was more then happy to let him have his rest.
Finally after about an hour and a half had gone by and the sun had long since gone down, when Dean stood up to get his third beer. John's hand shot out and stopped him before he was even fully standing.
"What have you boys being doing to my old journal?" he asked not looking up from the book. "Dog-eared and dirty, pages damaged… treat it almost as bad as you treat that car I gave you." For a moment Dean wasn't sure what to say, his father's comments had been so completely out of the blue and random that he was sure he'd heard wrong.
But when his father finally looked up from the book as if he'd been expecting an answer to his rhetorical question, Dean frowned.
"Hunting ain't exactly the teddy bears picnic dad," he replied. "Between killing the big bads of the world and I dunno… staying alive, it's kind of hard to keep things in mint condition." John raised an eyebrow and sat back placing the journal on the table.
"You really want to take that tone with me right now?" he asked. Dean raised an eyebrow and suddenly lost interest in getting himself another drink. He sat down across his father making sure the man knew they were now in a face off.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
"It means I'm disappointed in you," John replied. In any other situation, hearing those words from his father would have upset Dean and they still did, to a degree but right now it angered him more then anything.
"That's rich coming from you old man," Dean snapped. John's eyes had never gone as huge as they did at that moment.
"Excuse me?" he hissed.
"I didn't stutter," Dean replied immediately. "Sam and I busted our ass for almost a year trying to find your sorry behind. I can't even remember why I bothered looking for you! You weren't a father after mom died and it's too damn late to be one now. So dad maybe I should say I'm disappointed in you." They held their gaze for several more seconds. Dean knew his father would never back down and he had to rise to the challenge of not folding either. Especially when he didn't feel he'd done anything wrong or said anything wrong. All he'd tried to do recently was be a good big brother and all that got him was a bullet to the brain.
"This has nothing to do with us or your personal feelings right now Dean," John said. Dean snorted and sat back. "It doesn't," John said again, "You're right I haven't been that great of a father but we can deal with that later. Sam's suffering and you've been sitting out here like that means nothing to you."
"He's all omnipotent, he can take care of himself," Dean scoffed.
"Do you really believe that?" John asked. "Or are you just upset that there's nothing you can do right now to help him?" Dean opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. His father had a point. Most of the time Dean could shoot something or bury it or burn it or recite some Latin and Sam would be fine but now, there was nothing he could do but watch his brother deteriorate. It didn't make sense that the youngest of the two was burdened with powers Dean could only dream of.
For a few days he'd gotten a taste of Sam's abilities and he'd felt the strain. But more so, he'd felt the awesome power and he'd liked it. So yes, Dean was sad he could do nothing for Sam but he was also jealous that he didn't have powers too. Maybe if he did, things would be different at the moment and his little brother wouldn't be degrading into a human time bomb.
"Go see him," John said. Dean looked up at his father, not realizing he'd looked away at any point. Instead of saying anything, he just got up with a sigh and turned toward his brother's room.
"Dean." The Winchester stopped short when he head Bryson's call. He turned as the little Sprite struggled to pull himself up on the back of the couch.
"What's up small fry?" he asked. Bryson scowled a tired scowl.
"Don't make me hurt you," he replied. Dean laughed but walked over to the couch and offered his hand to the Sprite. Bryson climbed on and sat down with a breath.
"The Warden back there said I have to go see Sam, you sure you want to come?" he asked.
"You don't want to see him?" Bryson asked curiously. Dean sighed and shook his head.
"I'm not sure what I want," he replied. "But I'm going anyway."
"I'm going too," he said. "With the brand he doesn't need my dust right now. I guess I just… I dunno, feel kinda shitty that he's suffering. Weird though right? I mean, after what he did to me I can't believe I feel this way." Dean started towards Sam's room door.
"You and me both," he replied. It was a strange sensation to care about someone who'd tried to kill you and almost succeeded but it was only because Dean knew deep down, plan old Sam was still in there. Sure his body was being used as a breeding ground for the Apocalypse and he didn't know right from wrong but hey… he was still family. It was the lying that had hurt the most. The fact that Sam didn't trust Dean anymore nor seemed to need him around.
It was pathetic, Dean knew it and he'd never admit to his father or Sam but in reality, he needed the two of them probably a lot more then they needed him. That was made painfully clear when one ran off to college and the other just plain ran. And where had Dean been during all this? Still hunting, still protecting, still waiting for his chance to be in the spotlight, a spotlight that he knew was never coming.
Sam's door opened with a slight creak so when Dean stepped through the threshold, the youngest of the family was already looking in his direction. Sam was pale and the brand on his stomach looked quite painful but it appeared as though it had worked. Sam's eyes were more focused and less crazed then they had been in a while.
"Hey," Dean said. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Sam, setting Bryson down on the bedspread.
"Hey," Sam replied. His voice was hoarse and it was rather awkward considering he was tied down to the bed. Dean gave his brother the once over then focused on the wound for a bit.
"You look like shit," he said. Sam closed his eyes with a sad smile before opening them again.
"Getting branded like some sort of chattel to calm the demons inside you tends to do that to a man," Sam replied. Then he took a deep breath and looked Dean in the eyes. "Look Dean I… when I thought I… I mean it wasn't me but… I'm sorry Dean. I wish I could be more sorry, my minds just so…"
"Gone?" Bryson supplied helpfully. Both Winchesters looked down at the small Sprite who had a stoic look on his face. Sam sighed and shook his head as best as he could.
"And you," Sam said. "I kept on trying to stop myself. I kept on thinking just one last time and then I'd set you free again but I…"
"Got greedy," Bryson said. "And addicted, I know this dust is like crack to anyone but us fairies. I just would have liked you to ask me rather then bind and gag me." Sam blushed with embarrassment and sighed.
"I know, I'm sorry Bryson I…" Sam suddenly stopped talking as his back arched and he sucked in a deep breath. Dean jumped to his feet and moved Bryson onto the bedside table, out of harms way.
"Sam? Sam what is it?" he demanded. However as soon as it began Sam flopped back to the bed again as if nothing had happened. It was then Dean noticed the brand on Sam's side and healed slightly.
Sam and Bryson noticed it as well.
"How long until the others get here with that text?" Sam asked. His voice was hushed as if raising it any higher would unleash a great power.
"If they fly fast they should be here by sun up," Bryson said. Sam nodded and swallowed nervously.
"Well uh… I'm going to go," Dean said. He stood to leave, he'd been feeling odd since he came in and now he knew why. Watching his brother morph into something he couldn't even begin to fathom was to much for him.
"Wait, Dean…" He turned around and looked at Sam questioningly, his little brother had a nervous face on him. "Why… uh… why don't you stay for a few seconds? We can, uh… talk about bending spoons or something." Though it was meant as a joke, Dean didn't like it nor take it as such.
"Not funny Sam," he said coldly. Sam's nervous face faltered slightly and for a moment it looked as though he was going to cry.
"Come on Dean, I'll even let you call me Sammy," he tried with a forced smile. Still Dean couldn't bring himself to stay in that room. Sam was pleading for him to help and there was nothing he could do. Worse, the longer he stayed the more he was angry at Sam for acting as though they were okay at the moment, that he was okay.
"You shot me in the head," Dean said coldly. "And I shot you in the heart… Sammy is a chubby twelve year old that needs someone to look after him, Sam." Dean turned away before he had to bare witness to those large puppy dog eyes Sam was so good at perfecting. Instead he just marched to the door. "You coming Brys?" he asked.
"I'm goina stay here a while," Bryson replied. "And not be an asshole." Dean rolled his eyes and was out the door, closing it behind him. He had heard the beginnings of a few sobs from his brother and felt a tiny bit bad but refused to give in. He was tired of being the back up guy, the dependable one, maybe, just once, he would be the one to walk away unapologetically.
When he headed into the kitchen to grab himself another beer his father was still there with his arms crossed and a look of complete disappointment. Dean twisted the top off his beer and took a sip before finally making eye contact with John and getting the full scope of the look. Disappointment, anger, frustration, annoyance, sadness it was all there… and he thought he had the right!
"When I was little bullies told me I was weird for not having a mom. When I was in middle school, they told me I was a freak because I had my little brother with me almost everywhere I went and had no friends. When I was in high school they said I was too dumb and would end up a dead beat like my non-existent father, who didn't show up to my graduation because he was to busy hunting. Sam left for college as if he was better then this life and better then me. All those times I brushed people off with out so much as a word. My mom loved me in the time I had with her and I held onto that. I had a duty to my little brother because I was his protector. I didn't need friends to gratify everything I did nor did I want them. I studied my ass off in high school and was given an honorable mention at grad, because of my high marks but I shrugged it off. The hunt was more important and my studies were done through correspondence. I have a degree that's still waiting for me at some university because I was too busy hunting to pick it up. So don't dad, don't give me that disappointed face like it's supposed to make be buckle! I'm a stronger and better man then both you and Sam put together! I keep this family together and you both resent me for it so you can go to tell old man!" Dean wasn't sure where the rant had come from, lack of sleep, lack of proper food, worry, guilt, jealousy, it all seemed to compile itself and finally, with the threat of loosing yet another family member to the supernatural, he just didn't care anymore.
The words had flown from his mouth before his brain even registered what he was saying but the more they came out. The better he felt, so he spoke even more. The result was John sitting in his chair looking like he'd had his ass handed to him by a 90 lbs girl and Dean had grown three heads.
Dean still felt sad and bitter about everything but slightly gratified now. He took his beer and grabbed a few spares before heading to the front door and down to the lakes edge. Maybe now his father would give him a bit more respect.
John watched his son walk out the door and was speechless. Dean was a University grad? When the hell did that happen? It was sad that that had surprised him as much as it did but at the same time it wasn't impossible. When Dean was three, John and Mary had taken him to get tested. John had been convinced it was a waist of time as neither of them were geniuses so why would their son be? Turned out he was wrong, while Dean wasn't the smartest the doctor's doing the testing had ever seen, he was still up in the top ten. John had spent the rest of that week announcing to his friends at the garage that his son was a baby Einstein.
But after Mary's death, education became less and less important to him. It got to a point on occasion where John would actually be annoyed when either of his sons had to finish a paper before going hunting with him or training. Looking back on those times now, it was a shameful way for a father to act. Still he'd always, only ever wanted to keep his boys safe and alert. Apparently Dean hadn't just been the brawn but he'd also been the brain as well. His son had been so good at doing both equally as well that John never had any inkling Dean was neglecting the hunt. Which made John wonder, if he'd nurtured Sam a bit more, could he have done the same? A question that John knew he'd be pondering well into his senior years.
John had just been told off by his oldest son and the one who'd always been there for him in any task he asked to be completed. He didn't like it, in fact he hated thinking that his first born was getting up enough gal to talk in such a manner. But he suddenly realized he hadn't ever given Dean nearly as much credit as the boy was due. He simply accepted Dean's loyalty and pushed it to all it's limits. Dean was a gift to their screwed up, deranged family and asked nothing in return.
With a heavy sigh John looked at the front door where Dean had just departed from. If they pulled Sam through this okay, he and Dean would have a serious conversation about how important he actually was. Powers or not, Dean was a Winchester and Winchesters didn't abandon their own. At least… not anymore.
After drinking and staring at the stars for a few hours Dean had calmed down considerably. He made his way back up to the cabin, ready to face the music, knowing John would probably rip him a new one for being insubordinate. In a way, Dean felt he deserved it. They were all in a time of crisis right now and breaking down was unacceptable.
When he reached the cabin door Dean stopped to look at his watch. It was coming up on 4 in the morning and he was surprised he'd stayed awake the whole time. Perhaps pondering ones place in the world was just as good as a strong cup of coffee. He hoped that his father hadn't been the same way and was asleep at the moment so he could slip back in unnoticed. Knowing John though, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he was sitting next to the door with a shot gun and holy water, wide awake and ready to kill.
Sometimes Dean wondered if the man was part night owl. He and Sam would joke about that when they were kids. There father would come in early in the morning and his eyes would be large with sleeplessness and to much coffee. The two of them would start 'hooting', John would look at them like they were crazy and they'd laugh while the tired man went to bed for the morning.
Dean frowned, yet another childhood innocence they'd lost along the years.
"Hey moron, quit blocking the door, it's hard enough carrying these things over a few States!" Dean started and spun around when a small angry, out of breath voice piped up behind him. He spun around so quickly he lost his balance and had to take a step to compensate. Four Sprites jumped from there standing spots on the deck in every which direction to avoid being squished.
"Easy jumbo! You could have killed us!" another Sprite yelled. Dust poofing like a sparkling rain from it's wings. It had been a long time since Dean had seen a full blown angry Sprite and was amazed at how much dust came off the little man.
"Sorry," Dean apologized. The four Sprite's, each carrying particularly large satchels with parchment in them around their bodies, gave a few powerful flaps and were airborne. It was clear they were a bit tired and that the parchments were heavy for them but they got up to Dean's face.
None of them looked very amused. The one in front, similarly garbed like Bryson seemed to take the lead.
"Where's Bryson human? Don't make me beat it out of you," he snapped. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"You're six inches high, what could you possibly…" Before Dean finished his sentence two of the Sprite's disappeared behind him. With in seconds Dean was on the flat on his back staring at the creatures in shock. Two of them, two of them had managed to throw him of balance and trip him.
"Not so tough now are you human?" the lead Sprite said. The three other Sprites laughed as they closed in on Dean. Two landed on his knees, one on his stomach and the leader of the pack, marched right up his chest and grabbed him by the collar, raising his head slightly.
The little Sprite narrowed his eyes and raised a tiny dagger that Dean would have easily mistaken for a bobby pin had the blue man not been wielding it.
"We may be tiny but we can still do some damage human," it spat. "Where's Bryson?"
"Dean?" The front door to the cottage opened and in the doorway John stood with a look of shock on his face. Dean smiled with embarrassment, ashamed that he'd been owned by four, six inch blue Sprites.
"Give up Bryson or we mess up his pretty face!" the leader holding Dean's shirt exclaimed. If Dean hadn't been absolutely convinced that the four Sprites would make good on their threat, he would have laughed. Listening to a pissed off Sprite was like listening to Mickey Mouse on steroids.
"Oryx?" From John's pocket Bryson stuck his head out and smiled. Thankfully the four Sprites that had attacked Dean, looked considerably more happy.
"Bryson are you okay? These humans didn't hurt you did they?" the leader, apparently named Oryx asked.
"No, not these two, they've been good to me," Bryson replied. "Now get off Dean, you're scaring him."
"They are not!" Dean said indignantly. The Sprites all shared a laugh but climbed off Dean and flew over to Bryson.
After being picked up off the ground by his father, the seven went back into the cabin. The four Sprites were introduced as Oryx, Lorne, Dewy and Kat, short for Katrina. No sooner had they handed off the texts did John snatch them up and start reading like a mad man.
Dean knew not to get in the way of his father's research and decided to tend to the Sprite's instead. The four looked weary from their long flight and Bryson, needless to say, was still trying to recover his lost strength. Eventually though, Bryson got some dust from his Sprite friends and decided to ease Sam's suffering a little. Dean didn't like the idea but Bryson insisted small amounts would make the brand last longer and give them more time.
Once Bryson was gone Dean looked at the four Sprites who were all snuggled up under the same blanket looking ready to sleep.
"I have to say, for little soldiers, you guys sure to act like kids," he smiled.
"Eat it pretty boy," Dewy replied.
"Yeah what? Did you expect us to be flitting around braiding our hair and singing nursery rhymes?" Lorne asked.
"We grew up in the same world you did human," Kat replied. "We just have more fun." Dean raised an eyebrow at the four sitting next to one another on the couch and had no doubt when the parties got loud, they were the ones making the most noise… With Bryson's help of coarse.
"Hey Dean?" Oryx piped up. Dean looked at him and nodded, grateful that at least one of them had stopped referring to him as human as if it were a derogatory word.
"What?" he replied.
"Have you been feeling… different since that night in the woods?" he asked. Dean was about to laugh and say 'let me count the ways,' but then he saw the three stern warning glances Oryx got from his cohorts.
"Um, not really, why do you ask?" he replied. Oryx shrugged as if he'd already forgotten the question he just asked.
"Doesn't matter," the Sprite shrugged. "Now screw off, we need some sleep." The four Sprite's lay down, one by one and closed their eyes. Dean just rolled his eyes and shook his head before standing up and heading to the kitchen where his father was busy.
"Anything?" he asked. John didn't even look up but his eyes grew wide and he jerked his head slightly.
"I'll say," he replied. "The things that are in here… this is a dream come true for hunters like us."
"Dad," Dean said sternly. His father finally looked up curiously as Dean sat down across from him. "I mean anything that will help Sam." John's face flashed with a look of embarrassment for a second and shame before he looked back down again.
"Not yet," he said quietly. "I'm still looking." Dean chose not to respond to that knowing his father had probably spent the first few minutes of looking at the Bitle, to caught up in all he could learn rather then how to save his son.
That in mind, Dean decided it would be best to stay in the kitchen, keeping his father on track by being a constant reminder of what they needed to accomplish. He sat for almost a half hour before he started loosing focus on his father. His mind wandered to Sam and the way Dean had acted earlier. He was starting to feel bad about the conversation they had. He knew Sam was probably more scared then anyone else at the moment and powerless and angry or not, Dean had a responsibility to sooth his little brother's nerves. That in mind Dean came to a conclusion that he needed to see Sam again, so they could at least talk. He got up from the table and nodded to his father.
"I'm going to go talk to him," he said.
"Be careful," John said barely looking up from the text in front of him. Dean nodded and headed toward his brother's room. He gave the four sleeping Sprites on the sofa a silly smile, wondering where Bryson had gotten too, before putting his hand on the door, opening it just slighlty.
"Sam can I come in?" he asked. When he received no answer he figured Sam was still upset at him and doing the silent treatment thing probably because he was pissed off he'd been walked out on. Dean started to push the door open more. "Come on Sam, I just want to…"
He froze dead in his tracks, his heart stopped and his mind shut down. Rope debris lay everywhere and the window was wide open. But the worst thing was the small Sprite, struggling to breath on the bed, horrifically missing his left wing. It took several seconds for Dean to react but finally the adrenaline surged through him.
"DAD!" he yelled. With lightening like reflexes, he scooped the injured Sprite up in his hands. At first glance it had appeared as if the whole wing was gone but after picking Bryson up, it was revealed that only half the wing was missing. But it was enough, the Sprite was obviously going into shock. "DAD!" Dean wailed again.
He burst from Sam's room and nearly ran right into his father who'd come bounding from the kitchen.
"What is it? What's wrong?" John demanded. "Is Sam alright?"
"He's gone!" Dean exclaimed. "And look…" He opened his hands enough for John to lay eyes on Bryson.
"Oh Christ," John breathed. He dashed over to the couch and grabbed the blanket pulling it off the other Sprites with a tug.
"Oooo someone's got a death wish," Lorne yawned. However the second they saw Bryson in Dean's hands they leapt from their spots on the couch.
"What happened?" Kat exclaimed.
"Does it matter? Help him!" Dean panicked. The Sprite's lifted Bryson from Dean's grip and carried him off into the bedroom, Dean had been using. It was at that moment Dean realized why he was so panicked, so afraid. Bryson was little, Bryson was fragile despite his tough exterior but most of all, Bryson had needed him. He's needed Dean to save him from that box and he had saved his life so Dean could protect still.
"Dean… Dean! Calm down!" A sudden stinging sensation to the cheek caused Dean to stare at his father in disbelief. He rubbed his cheek and realized, he'd just been slapped.
"Did you just hit me?" Dean asked.
"I had to son, you were hyperventilating and panicking, I couldn't get you to listed to me," John replied. "Now we need to find Sam."
"He's gone," Dean said still in a bit of shock.
"Yes I know that, but we need to get him back before something bad happens to him or worse… that brand wears off," John said. As Dean took several deep breaths he nodded and began to understand the situation.
"He can't go far on foot," Dean said. "He's still got some sense of right so he's probably heading deeper into the woods, away from civilization."
"Good start, okay we'll split off you go north west I'll go north east," John said. Though his father's words were calm and collected, it was as though Dean could feel his father's angst and fear.
"Dad," Dean said, finally getting his wits about him. The man looked at him, "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine Dean, we need to get looking," John said back abruptly. Dean nodded after giving an apprehensive glance toward his bedroom where the Sprites were, he followed his father to the door.
The second they stepped out into the cool new morning air, another wave of grief hit Dean so hard that he nearly fell over. He was only saved by clutching the porch railing.
"Dean what's wrong?" John asked. His father's voice was slightly distant as if the man was standing a few hundred meters away. But that wasn't right because his father was right next to him, wasn't he?
"Dean I'm sorry." The new voice had sounded so real but there was no one else around, it had almost sounded like…
"Sam?" Dean asked out loud.
"What? Where?" John asked. "Dean what's going on?" Dean opened his eyes and looked around the woods as if they'd suddenly opened up pointing directly to where Sam had gone.
"He's that way," Dean pointed. John looked at the woods then back to Dean.
"How can you be so sure?" he asked. Dean opened his mouth to reply but then realized he had no explanation, he just… knew.
"Someone come find me." This time the voice that was accompanied by great sadness, was much clearer and the woods in front of Dean much more transparent, almost as if he could actually see Sam way off in the distance.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, not realizing there was no way Sam could ever hear him that far away.
"Dean, god damn it will you tell me what's going on?" John snapped. Dean looked at him and shook his head, when he looked back to the woods, they were once again dense and thick. Sam was no where in sight. "Dean?" He turned to his father again.
"I… I don't know it was like… I could… just feel him," Dean replied. John raised an eyebrow but then looked of into the woods.
"That way?" he asked. Dean nodded, "Then let's get going."
The two of them broke into a sprint or as fast as the terrain would allow. The deeper they went into the woods the stronger and stronger Dean could feel his brother's turmoil. It was like a beacon to him and soon enough, he was taking the lead ahead of his father running through the woods.
"Jesus, we raised a gazelle." There was an odd humor in the voice that Dean had never heard from his father before.
Dean stopped so suddenly that his father thumped right into him and had to back peddle to avoid falling over.
"Dean what are you doing?" John demanded.
"What did you say?" Dean asked. John looked at him as if he'd gone insane.
"I said, what are you doing?" he asked. Dean shook his head.
"No, no before that, just now while we we're running." he replied. John's look of complete and utter trepidation grew considerably.
"I didn't say anything. Now stop fooling around and let's keep going," the older Winchester ordered. Dean shook his head and opened his mouth only to be violently assaulted by grief yet again. He stumbled into his father's arms and sucked in a deep breath. "Okay son, you're starting to worry me now. Are you sick or hurt?" John asked. All Dean could do was shake his head, he had to make the feeling stop.
With a sudden need to end the suffering, Dean practically leapt from his fathers arms and started running again. Soon enough he broke through some particularly thick underbrush to a small clearing in the forest. He skidded to a halt as he took in the sight of Sam, sitting on a log, weeping with a gun to his head.
"Sam!" Dean hollered. Sam jerked in surprise and looked up at him but didn't move the gun.
"Dean… I have to end this," he cried. "This power's going to destroy me and everyone else in this world. I can't let it get to that point. I wont be an incubator for a power the world can't control!" Dean began slowly inching his way toward his brother with his hands raised.
"Sam, we have the Bitle now, Dad's been studying it. There's still a chance to help you," Dean urged.
"He's right son," John said. The man had approached at a jog but stopped farther back. "You can't give up, not like this."
"But I don't see anything wrong with this!" Sam exclaimed. "It's a means to an end, isn't that what we're supposed to be accomplishing?" Dean winced as Sam's trigger finger nervously twitched just slightly. The sorrow and grief was tidal waving off Sam at this point and Dean was struggling to stay on his own two feet; he had to make this stop.
"No Sam… we went over this months ago, none of this is worth dieing over and if it is… we Winchesters go out together," he replied.
"Dean, not helping," John warned quietly. Dean ignored him and continued to approach Sam.
"Don't come any closer Dean," Sam sniffed. "The powers… there coming back to me now. I… I can stop you."
"But you're not going to," Dean said confidently. Sam looked toward both men and snapped his head to the right slightly. It was as though Dean felt a strong wind had blown into him but he held his ground. John on the other hand had been sent sailing into a nearby tree and was now pinned like a helpless lamb.
Dean looked at his father incredulous that he too wasn't against the tree. Then he looked back at Sam, who'd actually lowered the gun a tad in shock.
"How…" Dean cut him off by holding out his hand.
"I'm going to come over there and take that gun from you Sam," he said sternly. "You're going to let me and then we're going to talk about this."
"Talk?" Sam spat, suddenly angry. "Winchesters don't talk Dean, we mask and soldier on. Stop moving Dean, I mean it, I'll shoot us both."
"Done that already, didn't much care for it," Dean joked. Sam scowled at him then turned the gun toward him.
"No pixies to save you know Dean," he hissed.
"Because you made short work of Bryson didn't you Sam?" Dean shot back. With that one comment Dean felt an odd humming sensation vibrate through him. It was the hum of anger that a small innocent like Bryson, who was only trying to help, had been caught in the crossfire.
Sam suddenly wailed and clutched his head as if in agony.
"I killed him! I'm a murderer! I have to end this while I still can!" he exclaimed. The gun cocked, Sam turned it back on himself but Dean, with a few quick steps was next to his brother. Dean shot his hand out and grabbed Sam's wrist, the hum of grief and uncertainty radiating between them
"Sam," Dean said sternly. "Everything is going to be okay because you're going to give me the gun and let dad and I take care of you. Bryson's not dead, his friends are helping him." Sam's eyes grew large with an unknown emotion but seemed transfixed on Dean.
Somewhere in the background Dean heard his father hit the forest floor and stand up. But that wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was the look in Sam's eyes, the look that was so intense it felt as though they brother's were sharing their emotions. Dean understood Sam's confusion and fear and he knew, Sam now understood Dean's concern and fortitude.
"W, what… are you… doing to… me?" Sam whispered. Dean felt his eyes closing, he felt a tingle run through his body like nothing he'd ever felt before. "Dean what's happening? What is this?" There was no way Dean could answer his brother's question, there was just to much raw emotion being fed between them.
And suddenly, just like that, it was over. Dean opened his eyes and looked down to have Sam slump unconscious into his arms.
"Dean what did you do?" John asked running up beside them. Dean just looked at his father like he hadn't heard the words clearly.
"I'm not really sure," he replied unsteadily. Suddenly a white hot flash of blinding pain dug itself into Dean's brain. As he felt consciousness leaving him he was sure that in his arms, Sam and grunted and flinched in pain, almost simultaneously to his own body. "Sam…" Dean moaned.
"Boys!" John's voice was like the final word before darkness came over the movie screen and the credits rolled. Only this wasn't a movie and there was no end credits, only searing pain and darkness.
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TBC
Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! And only one of my reviewers caught on to what I might be planning! Snicker, snicker, snicker! So what do you think? What the heck is going on? Well… keep reading and find out! Oh… and review please! I love reviews! I update faster with more of them!
As always, preview for next chapter:
… "Dad I… I think there's something I need to tell you," Dean said cautiously. His father sighed and looked up at him
"Can it wait Dean? Now's not really the time," he urged.
"I don't think it can," Dean came back. John was about to argue with his son when he saw the look of total loss on the boys face.
"Okay, what is it?" he asked warily. Dean let out a nervous laugh then shook his head.
"I think I'm going nuts," he said. John raised an eyebrow.
"How so?" Dean bit his bottom lip and looked quite nervous all of a sudden. He mumbled something in auditable. John sighed.
"Care to repeat that?" he asked. Dean looked at him and shrugged,
"Look out Haley Joel, here I come?" he offered with a weak smile. John blinked then smacked his forehead.
"Oh Christ," he grunted.
Hmm… interesting… What have I done? What HAVE I done? Well, guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out! And if our favorite little Sprite will be okay! Thank for reading!