A/N: I'm a newish author, I don't post much, but I got this thought in my head and quarantine gave me LOTS of time to write it. I appreciate constructive criticism (go easy on me) and hope you enjoy the story! In this story Sam is 15, which makes Dean 19.
P.S The characters may be a little out of character because I haven't watched the show in a while.
Small snowflakes fluttered past the Impala's window as it roared down some back roads of Pennsylvania. In the Impala, Sam looked at the window, trying to catch what the snowflakes looked like before they melted, to see if there were truly no two snowflakes the same. Dad heard wind of sudden disappearances in a very small town, the name not even worth remembering. People would be with their family or friends, and one minute they were there, and the next they weren't. Enough people had disappeared for Dad to be concerned of something supernatural, and off they went.
To be honest, Sam hadn't even given him a hard time leaving the last place they stayed. Up in Vermont was cold and the school was so run-down, the heat barely worked. Sam hoped that this latest hunt would be quick, and the next one could take place somewhere warm, like Florida or California.
Sam was interrupted out of his thoughts by their Dad pulling into a motel, slowing into a parking spot. "Alright," said John, "I'm gonna go in and get a room. You two stay here with the heaters on." Dean and Sam nodded. It was late at night and Dean had been abruptly awoken by his father's words.
Sam couldn't help but smirk. "Good morning, snowflake" he chirped. "Shut up, bitch" Dean shot back, smoothing his hair down. He looked out the window at the steadily falling snow and grumbled to himself, "We really couldn't pick anywhere warm, could we Sammy?" Sam scowled, "It's Sam." But his protest of his nickname was drowned out by his Dad opening the door. "Alright boys, room number 6, get the stuff from the trunk."
Room number 6 fortunately had a working heater, which quickly warmed the room as they settled in. "So what do you think it is, Dad?" Dean asked. Sam lied back on the lumpy bed, which wasn't very comfortable. "Probably some kind of witch or something." Dad replied, "Making people disappear out of thin air in broad daylight. The question is where they are being kept." The police were searching frantically as the total of missing people climbed to 3, but nothing could be found. No signs of struggle, no bodies were ever found, and the town wasn't very big to begin with. There are only so many places you could stash your collection of stolen people. Or bodies. "We'll start researching tomorrow morning." They all quietly got ready and into bed, falling into a similar routine. Sam laid on the uncomfortable bed, next to Dean, and fell asleep.
The next couple days were filled with research and interviews with the victim's families. Their Dad was pretty sure he had figured out who was doing it, most certain it was a witch.
"John McCarthy." his Dad said as he briefed them. "He is the only link between all the peoples families. He was also seen with 2 of the victims maybe minutes before they disappeared. It has to be him." Sam was happy at how fast the hunt was going. The snow was nonstop, leaving a good 2 inches on the ground at this point. The sooner they left, the better. Sam hadn't even been enrolled in the school, partly due to weather, and partly due to the hope of a quick hunt.
For Sam, finding the property the guy owned was almost too easy. At 15, he was already the main researcher in the family, and a quick look into the family name showed property on the edge of town, where a cabin resided. Sam sat in the backseat of the Impala as they slowly traveled the badly plowed roads. The plan was to check the cabin out, see if they could find the missing people, and if McCarthy was there? He'd get some questioning, and then probably a bullet in the head.
Witch hunts were always uncomfortable at some point for Sam. They looked so human. Messing with things they shouldn't. Making dumb mistakes. Why is that a death sentence? I guess at this point, Sam thought, causing 3 people to disappear isn't exactly a dumb mistake. The thought didn't make him feel any better.
They stopped about a half mile from the location of the cabin. Dad cut the engine and turned to face the boys. "Alright, let's do this." All dressed in snow gear, the three Winchesters made their way through the snow. About 10 minutes later, they arrived at a small cabin. From a glance, the cabin looked uninhabited. The lights were off, snow wasn't shoveled off the stoop or driveway, and there were no tracks in the snow. Yet, "something doesn't feel right" Sam whispered. His Dad nodded in agreement. He jerked his head towards the house and the boys followed him as he walked up to the front door. He knocked on the door and after a minute or two, slowly turned the knob. The sound of a latch unclicked and the door opened. Sam could see his Dad's frown, he didn't like how easy this seemed to be. Judging by Dean's tight shoulders, he didn't like it either. He shifted closer to Sam, always the protective big brother. Dad released a sigh, and slowly walked into the house.
Suddenly, as all three of them walked into the house, the lights suddenly turned on, the room bare except for an altar in the back. Dad and Dean immediately pulled their guns out, Sam quickly following them, as they surveyed the room. But nobody was there. Their Dad slowly walked toward the altar. "Well we definitely have the right place," his dad said, "but where are the people?" Sam then realized as he looked around, that there seemed to be no doors. Even the door they came into was gone. "It's an illusion," he said. "The witch or whatever can make illusions." Dean grinned, "I think you hit it right on the head, Sammy." His Dad scowled. He didn't look up how to break witch illusions. He was expecting trapped people and maybe a delusional witch that didn't know what he was doing. Illusions were indicative of lots of power. Sam suddenly felt uneasy. As though Dean could sense it, he whispered, "stick by my side, little brother." Sam had no problem following that order, as he shuffled closer to Dean. "We have to figure out how to break it." His Dad muttered. Dean chuckled, "I say we just find and kill the son of the bitch, problem solved."
Suddenly a voice behind them spoke, "Oh, if only I let you get close enough to try, Dean." Sam spun around, suddenly staring at John McCarthy. How did he get there? As far as he knew, teleporting wasn't something a witch could do.
McCarthy sneered at the guns pointing at him. Sam could tell Dean and Dad wanted to shoot him, but they still didn't know where the victims were.
"Where are the people, McCarthy." John growled out, pulling out his hunter voice, as Sam liked to call it.
"Those people deserve what they're getting." McCarthy replied. "So enough about them, because I've heard a lot about you Winchesters. Word travels fast about the outstanding hunters that kill everything they come across. Can't have you killing me, now can we? Sam may not deserve this, but if it gets you off my ass, I'll do it."
"Do what?" Dean growled. Sam has never heard Dean sound so scary in his life. McCarthy was staring at Sam and muttering words under his breath. Dean started getting frantic, pulling Sam behind his back, then pulling his hand back to put both hands on his gun "Stop, or I'll fucking shoot you, asshole." Dean nearly yelled. Sam started to feel a tingling going up his spine. "Uhhh, Dean?" Sam said, but Dean didn't seem to hear him.
Sam looked down at his body. Then he looked up. He felt fine. Yet, McCarthy was standing there smiling. "I'll give him back if you promise to leave this town and never come back." McCarthy said. Sam looked up at Dean and his Dad as they turned around to see where Sam went. Sam chuckled. "Your spell didn't work, I'm right here." He said. McCarthy smiled. "Didn't it?" He said. Sam then realized that Dean's face had gone as white as a ghost. He was staring at where Sam was standing, but he seemed to look through him. "Sam?" Dean said. "Sam!" His Dad flung around and lunged for McCarthy, but his Dad suddenly went through him. Sam went to grab Dean's hand, when his hand went completely through Dean. "Fuck!" his Dad said. "Where the fuck did he go?" At this point Dean started hyperventilating. He was saying something under his breath, and it took a second for Sam to realize what he was saying. "no, no, no, no" was his mantra as Dean suddenly walked through Sam and started trying to break up the floorboards, as if there was a secret basement that he couldn't see. Sam turned around to McCarthy. "What did you do?" His voice sounded high and shrill. Sam hadn't been hunting long, but never had something happened like this. He hadn't even been hurt beyond a concussion or two. And based on how Dean had freaked out when those happened, he can only imagine the panic Dean was feeling now. "Reverse it!" he yelled. McCarthy shook his head. "See Sam, all I do is make illusions. All those missing people are just invisible, just like you are now. And unless your family promises to let me go, that's how you'll stay. Bye, Sam." Then McCarthy left Sam shocked still in the middle of the room, his Father and Dean tearing the house apart by hand.
0oooooooooooooooooooooooo0
Apparently Sam couldn't touch anything, but could sit in the Impala, without making a sound of course. McCarthy had really covered all his bases. Sam tried yelling, walking through them multiple times to see if they felt weird when he did it, trying to knock things off the altar to get their attention, the whole nine. Back at the motel, he tried picking up a pencil to write something down, but to no avail. His anxiety skyrocketed as Dean and Dad looked like they were about to explode. He'd never seen either of them so furious in his life, and he'd certainly pushed his Dad to his limits with his constant questioning and arguing.
"What are we gonna do, Dad?" Dean asked, his hands fisted in his hair, pacing the room. He hasn't been able to stand still since the moment he realized Sam was gone. His Dad, on the other hand, had turned hunter mode on, with a dangerous side effect of concerned father. He was stone cold still at the table, staring at the wall, trying to think. "We're gonna hunt the bastard down and we're gonna get Sam back is what we're gonna do." His Dad replied. Dean absentmindedly nodded. Dad stood up and suddenly grabbed Dean's shoulders, stopping his pacing. "Dean." He said sternly. "You need to calm down. Panicking is not going to help Sam, staying calm is what is gonna help Sam. All you're going to do is run yourself into the ground with panic. Take a deep breath." Dean obeyed, exhaling shakily. "Now," his Dad said, "You need to go to sleep. We'll start the search tomorrow. It's too late, the weather is horrible, and we have no leads." Dean looked like he wanted to argue, but one stern look from Dad had him grabbing his sweatpants and heading to the bathroom to shower. Sam wondered if he needed to didn't think he'd be able to even if he wanted too.
Hours had passed and Dean had finally fallen asleep after an hour of laying in his bed staring at the ceiling. His Dad, on the other hand, had stayed up nearly all night, calling Bobby, Pastor Jim, anyone he could think of to get extra hands researching, and tearing through his own research as well. Finally, at about 4 am, his dad finally fell into bed and promptly fell asleep. Sam went and laid next to Dean on their bed. Even in sleep, Dean looked troubled. "Come on, Dean" Sam said, "You're smart enough to figure this out. You'll save me, I know you will."
Just a short couple hours later, Sam woke up when Dean's arm went through him. Dean's eyes sluggishly looked up, trying to see where Sam was, why he wasn't in bed. Sam could tell when he remembered what had happened, his eyes dimmed, and his face immediately turned into a scowl. Dean swung out of bed and got dressed, making enough noise to wake their father up. Then Dean and Dad got to work.
0ooooooooooooooooooooo0
It had been 3 days. Sam fortunately had never felt hungry or thirsty, so he guessed he didn't have to worry about starving to death. But he was worried about his family. Every hour that seemed to pass, Dean and Dad got more worried, anxious, and they seemed to have also forgoed eating food and sleeping in exchange for turning the town upside down in their search for him. If only they knew he was right beside them the whole time.
One day he was walking down the street McCarthy lived on, for about the 80th time. (His Dad and Dean were certain there was an illusion hiding him, but they just could not see through it.) For the first time, Sam saw McCarthy walking up the steps to his front door and walking inside. Sam quickly looked at Dad and Dean, but despite them staring at the house intently, they didn't see him. Sam turned and stepped towards McCarthy. But his Father's voice stopped him. "C'mon Dean, there's nothing here. Let's go ask around town again if anybody has seen him." Sam was torn. If they left without him, he'd have to walk back to the motel and wait for them. What if they for some reason decided to start searching outside of town for him and left the motel? Despite days of research, no one could turn up anything on illusions or about making people disappear out of thin air. This guy was one of the first witches to have accomplished this, except maybe some dark, old, covens. But covens didn't usually go around making people disappear. They preferred making their victims hurt.
Sam shook off the thought. Dad and Dean couldn't see what Sam could. He would have to take matters into his own hands. He turned around and walked the opposite direction as his family. Right to John McCarthy's house.
Sam approached the front door. He went through everything he tried to touch, so even though it felt silly, Sam tried to walk through the door. Sam, unsurprisingly, went through the door and into a hallway. McCarthy was standing at the end of the hallway, as if he was waiting for Sam. Sam immediately halted, staring at McCarthy. He hadn't really planned this far.
"I figured you would come find me eventually." McCarthy said cooly. He walked further into the room at the end of the hallway, and Sam, despite every instinct telling him to run back to Dean, to where it was safe, walked forward and followed.
McCarthy had sitten down on a stool in the kitchen, sipping on some coffee. "Don't look so frightened, Sam. I'm not going to kill you. I've already done what I wanted, and I think I was being quite nice. The other victims died of starvation and thirst ages ago." Sam gulped. So that's what happened to the other victims. "I just need you for leverage against your Dad. He won't hurt me as long as he thinks I am the key to getting you back." Sam laughed. "Actually, he thinks getting you and torturing the information out is the best option." McCarthy looked uneasy for a second, then schooled his features back to calm. "Well, he'll have to find me first, and if he can't figure out that you're right next to him, then I doubt he'll be able to find me."
There was a moment of silence. Sam still hadn't been able to come up with a plan. Should he try to convince and beg McCarthy to fix him? Should he see if he could land punches since they were both invisible? He kicked himself for coming in without a plan. Dad would be pissed.
McCarthy tilted his head. "What are you here for, Sam? Other than the obvious." Sam stood up taller and rolled his shoulders back, trying to emulate Dean. "You're going to fix me." Sam said. McCarthy raised his eyebrows, knowing as well as Sam did that he had no plan to make McCarthy cooperate.
"Why would I do that." McCarthy said. Sam thought quick on his feet and said the most absurd thing he's ever said in his life. "Fix me, and I'll tell Dad that I killed you and that made the curse reverse." Sam said. He had no idea what he was thinking. This man was killing people and Sam was going to let him go just so he could be back with his family. The exact opposite of what his family stood for.
McCarthy sighed. "Sam, you know the minute someone disappears again your Father will be right back, I'm not naive." Sam frowned. He knew that too, that the killings wouldn't stop because he made a deal with him. He hadn't really planned on keeping his end of the deal anyway. McCarthy continued. "I'm between a rock and a hard place, Sam. Those people deserved what they got. The father of 2? Abused and hit his daughters. That woman? Animal abuser. The teenage boy? He raped my daughter. Which led to her falling into a depression and committing suicide." McCarthy had grown angry at that point, standing from his stool. Instinctually, Sam took a step back.
"They all deserved it, Sam! I only did what the law enforcement wasn't. They gave that boy a slap on the wrist for what he did to my daughter, and I got sentenced to having to live the rest of my life with the loss of my only child! 2 years after losing my wife! I could've taken out the police involved with the case too, but I didn't. Because I don't want to be an evil person. I only took out those who were a cancer to society. That if anybody knew who they really were, they wouldn't have cared that they went missing. You don't deserve this Sam, but when I got involved in this witch stuff, I heard about your Dad and your little family of hunters. I can't be killed over serving justice! I haven't spent years learning magic and cultivating my art just for your family to find me when I'm just getting started. And if that means you have to be invisible, then so be it. I'm not losing any sleep at night." McCarthy was red in the face, while Sam was speechless. Suddenly, the black and white world that his father made out hunting to be seemed to be smudging into gray. This man was trying to help people with his magic. Even though it was killing people, did he deserve the death sentence his Dad would give him?
"Look," Sam said, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. McCarthy and Sam swung their heads at the door. Who was knocking when the house was supposed to be under the illusion that nobody is home? McCarthy went and looked out the window, still invisible to the human eye. Sam wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do. He was stuck arguing with a witch in his house, while some salesperson or other knocked on the door. McCarthy shrugged and walked back down the hallway, "They'll leave eventually, it's obvious nobody is home. Well it at least looks that way."
Yet, that was not the case. The door blew in on its hinges. A woman in a dark pantsuit was standing on the front step. Sam ducked into the living room, away from the hallway and whatever decided to come barreling in. McCarthy was standing at the end of the hallway. "Who the fuck are you?" he said. "Get out of my house!"
McCarthy was acting like someone just walked in univitied. Sam realized that only something supernatural could see through McCarthy's illusions and blow in the damn door. He was defenseless against whatever it was. He thought about making a break for the back door when the intruder spoke.
"John McCarthy. You've unfortunately messed with the wrong person. Should've picked Dean." The intruder said. Sam's heart stopped. How did this person know Dean? Then all of a sudden McCarthy was choking on something. Sam gasped when he saw that a knife had been thrown into his neck. And hadn't gone through him like it should have.
Sam was frozen as the woman walked through the hallway and over McCarthy's dying body. "Hello Sam Winchester." She said with a smile. "Get away from me!" Sam cried and went to run, but found he couldn't move. "I'm not here to hurt you Sam." She crooned. "You're wanted for something far more than being invisible for the rest of your life." She cupped her hand around his face. "Such a special, special boy. You're a fan favorite you know. Tell your Daddy that yellow-eyes said hello." She said and then disappeared.
Sam immediately broke free of his paralysis. He scrambled over to McCarthy, putting a hand on his wrist to check his pulse, but it was not there. McCarthy was dead. Sam scrambled back from him, choking down a frightened sob. Then he realized. He had touched McCarthy. He looked at his hand and walked over to the nightstand and picked up a book sitting there. He was no longer invisible.
Sam sprinted outside of the house. He had to get back to the motel and tell his Dad what happened. His dad would know what the weird lady said about him being special. He had to see them, days of them seeing through him took its toll. The motel was only a block away and Sam skidded to a stop in the parking lot. Sitting in the parking spot was the Impala, and a gentle light shown from the window of room number 6. He walked up and knocked on the door.
He knew what was happening behind the door. That in the split seconds between opening the door, his Dad and Dean exchanged a look, both grabbing a weapon. His Dad would slowly go up to the door and peer through the peephole and decide if he wanted to answer or not. Sam assumed everything had happened the way he thought because the door flung open, a gun falling to the ground, and his dad had grabbed him in a hug, crying. His dad was hugging him. "Sam, Sammy, oh my god, Sam, are you okay?" He said, his hands going over his body checking for injuries. Then he heard the sweet sound of his brother. "Sam?" his brother cried, tripping over their father to get to him. Actually tripping. Sam never saw Dean trip in his life. Dean nearly tackled him to the ground, pushing their father away, openly sobbing and cradling Sam's head like he just returned from the dead. "Sammy, Sammy, what happened? Where did you go? Did that son of a bitch hurt you?" Dean pulled back and cupped Sam's face. Sam's breath stuttered. It was finally sinking in that his family could see him. He blinked away tears. "Dean...I was here the whole time. He just made me invisible. I'm fine!" He said, holding his arms out as if to say "see? Nothing wrong here!" Dean and their Dad, kneeling on the concrete outside of room number 6, looked appalled. "You were here" Dean said "the whole time? How did you end up outside of the motel and..well, visible?" Sam wasn't quite sure how he explained everything, but he did. It probably sounded jagged and broken and probably made zero sense, but Dean and Dad listened and nodded, Dean never letting go of his jacket the whole time. He saw his Dad stiffen when he told him the message the lady passed on. "Of course he was fucking behind this." John rubbed his hands over his face. "He's just trying to fuck with me. Taking you away just to give you back. Just to show that he can. Don't listen to them about you being different, Sam. You're fine. They're just trying to confuse us." Sam nodded, content with his father's statement, relieved that his Dad had fixed everything. Young enough to believe John when he said that they were lying about him being special. Naive enough to believe that John wouldn't go research and put together what yellow-eyes was doing and that Sam had something evil inside him. At that moment, for Sam, everything was perfect. The family was back together, Dean was probably never going to let Sam out of his sight for the next 5 years, and his Dad was in charge. Just how things were supposed to be.
A week later when John and Dean had finally been convinced that Sam was fine, and were (relatively) no longer treating him like broken glass, John announced that he had found another hunt. A simple ghost haunting. Something to get them back in the groove.
"Where is it?" Sam asked. "It's in Maine," his dad replied. Sam dropped his head in his hands. So much for Florida.