AN: This has been bouncing around in my brain for weeks now, but I couldn't make it fit into Whumptober, so I'm making it its very own story. Set in season 11, before O Brother, Where Art Thou? and involves yet another supe taking potshots at our favorite brothers, hoping to break them apart…and then just break them. ATM, the plan is to have it just focus on the boys, but it's possible the angel of Thursday will make an appearance, if my muse so wills it. Hope you enjoy this odd little story!
Woe to that poor mortal who draws the eye of the capricious gods.
dissolution def: (n) the process in which two or more components in a solution are forcibly separated into individual components
It isn't just humans that fear what they don't understand.
Many types of supernaturals see more than what we do. They see weaknesses that aren't obvious to humans. They see who is vulnerable, who is strong, who is different. And many of them catch glimpses of souls.
So when Robin MacNaBeanna saw two human souls entwined, bound together, connected, he was intrigued. He wanted to know why. And it was never good to gain his attention.
Because when he saw something new, he wanted to break it.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Dean returned to the bunker with beer, coffee, and the other, less important supplies he'd headed into town to procure. "It happen again?" asked Sam without glancing up from his books. He could read the tension in Dean's posture without even looking directly at him.
"Yup. Someone was watching me." Dean put away the groceries with more force than necessary. It had been happening for weeks now. There was no gossip in town about anybody new around, no new cars, nothing. There was also no EMF or any other obvious signs of supernatural activity around town or the Impala or the bunker. Of course, they never felt that sense of being watched in the bunker. That didn't mean they were willing to let it go, however. Something was stalking them, and that wasn't okay.
"We'll figure it out, Dean," offered Sam mildly, making eye contact. He knew that while the situation bothered him, it was driving Dean completely crazy.
Dean popped open two beers without answering, sliding one across the table to Sam, who raised an eyebrow. It was three thirty in the afternoon. But with a shrug, Sam took it. Honestly, they'd both drunk earlier. "We will, Dean." He didn't bother to say it might be something benign, because when was it ever something benign? Instead, he smiled. "And what can't we handle together?"
Dean scoffed, pretending to be unaffected by the words. Pretending to be cold and uncaring, knowing Sam could see through him. What hadn't Sam done to make sure they were together? He'd released the Darkness, and, as far as Dean could tell, didn't regret it. Not really. It was one cosmic-sized decision among many that they had made for each other over the years.
They might take a while to get there, but they always chose each other.
Dean side-eyed his brother, hoping he'd hidden his sappy thoughts, but Sam was smiling at him with that stupid dewy-eyed look he'd perfected before he could talk. Dean scoffed again, muttering about emo chick flick girly little brothers.
"We might want to prepare a reveal spell," offered Sam finally, giving them both an out. "We can carry the ingredients with us, and when one of us feels that we're being watched again, when we're not in public, cast it."
"There's one big problem with that," argued Dean, pulling out a mixing bowl and spoon. Sam looked down to hide his smile. Cooking was Dean's new coping mechanism, probably the healthiest one he'd ever had. "It only ever comes when one of us is alone. We wait until we're alone and not in public, we're vulnerable." They both knew perfectly well he was saying, you're vulnerable. And they both knew just as clearly that Sam refused to stay safe in the bunker until whatever was out there was caught, no matter how much Dean bitched at him to.
They'd tried taking separate cars into town, or having one follow after fifteen minutes or keep watch from the car. It didn't work. They only felt the presence when they were truly separated. Something sneaky enough to stay almost completely off their radar was either testing them or toying with them, and that meant it was almost certainly something supernatural.
"I hate this." Dean also hated how petulant he sounded. And he hated that Sam was essentially soothing him like a little kid. Then again, Sam liked doing it, and he was good at it. Dean would do the worrying and the cooking, Sam would do the reading and the emoting, and they would get back in their rhythm. And they would eventually beat the Darkness too.
Sam was still in calm-my-brother mode, but Dean let him. He'd start complaining once Sam had put back on all the weight he'd lost during the entire Mark of Cain…everything. "I know you do," said Sam in that placating voice. "But I already found a spell we can use. It'll give us a look at what we're facing."
"And maybe piss it off."
"How long until the food is ready?"
Dean looked up, squinting, at the non sequitur. "Like half an hour. Why? You actually hungry?"
"Not really. Just…you must be hungry to be this cranky. You didn't pick up any animal crackers for your snack time, did you?"
Dean threw a spatula at Sam, who just dodged it and grinned at him like the little bitch that he was.
"Seriously, Dean. It will be fine. I'm sure of it."
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
For two weeks, they each carried a little vial of ingredients for the simple spell Sam had found. They didn't stop looking for signs of The Darkness, but they also waited for a shot at their stalker. All they had to do for the spell was throw the vial down and say: quod sit revelare abscondita. * It should, at least temporarily, dispel most concealment spells and glamors, according to the Men of Letters library.
While they waited, Dean broke four of the vials by accident. And cooked seventeen meals and something called a chocolate lava cake that left Sam speechless.
Then one ordinary Monday afternoon, when Dean was in town, Sam got an email he'd been waiting for. It was a lead on some rare supplies they'd been looking for to renew some of the aging warding on the bunker. Most of the warding they didn't understand, but Sam had come across a how-to manual on some that had to be renewed once a year, and they didn't have everything they needed to do it. So when Sam finally got a lead on the rarest ingredient, he was eager to go. He tried calling Dean, but it didn't go through, which was pretty common within the dead zone that was Lebanon. So, he sent a text and left a note on the kitchen table, both of which said: Gone to Lincoln for manticore venom. Back for supper.
Sam took a red Chevy Bel Air that they'd found in the bunker and that Dean thought was hideous. Sam kind of liked it – especially the leg room. It was the opposite of inconspicuous, but since he didn't have the Impala, it was the most comfortable option. Besides, he just plain liked driving it.
The trip went well, and Sam got the venom from a supplier they'd used before, a little man named Herm who looked to be at least 200 years old. Sam called to tell Dean that he was on his way back, pleased with his success. He had to stop for gas on the way back, and pulled into a little station out in the sticks where an elderly couple with matching BMW motorcycles admired his ride as much as he admired theirs.
Then Sam felt it. There was a prickle on the back of his neck, an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn't ignore. Sam paid for his gas and ducked out the back door of the gas station. He threw down the vial and took a deep breath, not noticing the miniscule, sparkling particles in the air around him.
"Quod sit revelare…" Sam paused and shook his head. "Quod sit…" He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head again. "Quod…"
What am I doing? What am I saying?
Confused, unable to remember what he was doing behind some random building, how he got here, even where he was, Sam fell to his knees, still trying to clear his mind. A very thin man with combed back black hair and a small moustache stepped out the door, helped him to his feet, and smiled at him. "There you are! Let's get going…brother."