When Angels Fall
Author's Note
Wow - this secret Santa is still going Kaly – apologies to all for the delay. Darned R/L getting in the way of my SN obsession lol!
Huggles and warm thanks to Gem and Beist for having both inexhaustible patience and kindness– what would I do without you? All improvements are thanks to them, any mistakes are unfortunately all mine!
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – I hope you continue to enjoy this!
This chapter is especially dedicated to Jazzy and Sifi - just to let you know that you are both in my thoughts – virtual hugs and best wishes winging their way to you!
Summary
One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.
Disclaimer
This is Kripke's universe, not mine. Now CW, please do the right thing and give these guys a season 3. And 4. And 5……
Warning
Shakes head – naughty language- oh and kinda chick-flicky! Caleb is still based on Ridley's creation...
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Chapter 10
Dean shook his arm free from Laurel's grasp. "What the hell do you mean? Of course Sam wants to come back! He's never given up on anything in his life!" He had lost so much but Sam had never quit. Until now, Dean had been fairly sure he didn't know how to.
"He's frightened and confused. He has lost his way and is panicking. All I can pick up is that he thinks he is protecting you."
Great, that old chestnut. And thanks to Dad, Sam thought he was a danger to his brother; worse, he thought his own family felt that way.
"What can we do?" Dean asked the Reaper. He wasn't letting his brother go without one hell of a fight.
"Talk to him, Dean. Convince him to return."
"This is Sam Winchester you're talking about. Do you know how hard it is to change his mind?" Dean asked, his lips twisting in a mirthless, wry smile.
"You're the only person the kid listens to, Deuce." Caleb added softly.
"So, what am I supposed to do? Talk to the talisman?" Dean's voice rose incredulously.
"Actually, we can kill two birds with one stone." Nick spoke up.
"How?"
"For a Shamanic Resurrection, we would need someone to forge a link with Sam, to show him the way home."
"And? C'mon, Nick. It's not like it's far. Sam's body is only in the next room for Christ's sake. Shit, I'll put the amulet around his neck – how hard could it be?" The fear that Dean might fail his brother again gnawed at the elder brother.
"It's not the distance, Dean. Sam is so tired now, so bewildered and lost he can no longer tell the way. He's holding on to the one thing he knows instinctively and that's you, Dean. The spirit world and this one have subtle differences, with eddies and currents that could sweep Sam away if we are not exceptionally careful." Laurel continued.
"I hate to point out the obvious here, but I am not what you could even remotely call a holy man."
"Yeah - The whole celibacy thing would probably kill him." Caleb muttered, not realising until too late that it was Jim who was closest. Shit…
"Hush, Caleb. Now's not the time."
The Reaper leant forward, her lips brushing his ear. "Do not underestimate the good in your soul Dean Winchester, nor how much your brother loves you. Sam needs his brother."
Damned Reapers always knew which buttons to press. Not that she needed to. Dean could never stand by idly whilst his brother needed him.
"Tell me what to do."
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They had moved Sam's body into the church to surround him with whatever protection the Holy ground could offer. Angelica, to ward negativity, and loosestrife, had been sprinkled liberally in the four corners of the room for protection and harmony and the floor had been purified with burdock to provide protection from below.
Incense sticks of ash, bay, sandalwood and cinnamon, mixed with sprigs of lavender and rosemary had been set at regular intervals around the church. Sachets were set in a pentagram around Sam, with one pouch on Sam's chest at the very centre of the symbol. Vervain had been selected for purification and to ward psychic attack, agrimony and blackthorn were necessary to help return the spell to the sender, in this case Laurel. Mullein was added for health and courage, comfrey for healing and safe travel for Sam and Dean, and cinquefoil for protection and dream divination.
If neither of us have hay fever at the end of this, it'll be a miracle, Dean thought looking around the church now only lit by candlelight. Or one of us will break a leg trying to find the light.
The rite described to Dean seemed to be a combination of elemental ideals, shamanism and candle magic.
He had five candles. With each, he had to chant the relevant invocation, carving with Sam's knife the sigil of the matching element.
The red candle represented change and courage, a healing of vitality, protection and luck. I wonder if I should make Sam carry one round like Rip van Winkle. The kid needs some good luck in his life for a change. On this candle he carved the sigil representing fire. He placed this on Sam's right side.
He engraved the symbol of water into the blue candle. The blue was for power and healing, especially for emotional and psychic ailments. It also had the added advantage of banishing malevolent spirits. Which lets face it would be handy, Dean thought irreverently though there probably aren't enough red candles in the world to combat the Winchester luck. This was placed on his brother's left, an unconscious balance for the fire.
He set the indigo candle at Sam's head. This was chosen for psychic development and strength, self-confidence and personal power – this candle he etched with the icon for air.
The green candle depicted love, growth and the healing of physical ailments. Best be careful with this one, bad enough Sam was already several inches taller than he was. Dean snorted as he continued the invocation, his mind trying desperately to protect him from his fear. On this candle he scored the mark for earth and was placed at Sam's feet.
The final candle was pure white and had been gathered from Pastor Jim's church collection. The white symbolised new beginnings and energy, creativity and communication. This candle was engraved with the mark for spirit. This would be the candle he would use to meditate to achieve a trancelike state in which he could communicate with Sam. Well that was the working theory anyway.
He lit the final candle and then carefully tied a silver threaded cord linking his left and Sam's right hands. Something physical for him and Sam to connect to, linking the spiritual world to the physical one. He gently grasped his brother's cold hand in his own, a thumb absently rubbing across Sam's knuckles.
Lastly, he wrote Sam's name on a piece of paper, and, settling himself in front of his brother, he placed the paper in the flame of the white candle. He grasped the pendant around his neck with his free hand - his entire focus was on the paper curling and burning on the candle at his feet. His breathing slowed and deepened the herbs and incense burning around them let him drift. His eyes became unfocussed as his consciousness lost grip of this world and slowly flowed to another.
Laurel watched the scene, her presence hidden and unnoticed. Sam's tall body lay outstretched and defenceless; his dark hair swept from his eyes as if someone had been determined to give him as much light to his soul as possible. The soft candlelight illuminated his features with an almost other-worldly glow, a poor imitation of the young man's distinctive warmth. Even in death his face appeared too innocent and impossibly young for the life he had lived.
Dean knelt at his side, his shoulder heavy with weariness and a fear of failure. However as his concentration deepened, the tautness in his strong frame eased and his face lost the masks it normally bore. Without his defences, his face too held an unexpected innocence; still bearing the traces of a soul bereft and grief-stricken. Lost.
And in the gentle, warm light of the candles and in the absolute stillness of the church, the Reaper held her breath in awe and wonder at the bond that these two brothers shared. In respect she withdrew, leaving the two brothers surrounded by the flickering glow and encroaching darkness to face their demons. The delicate balance of light and shadow reflecting the future of the souls below - so finely balanced, so perilously close to falling. And as she left; she kept safe the fragile hope that their strongest quality – the love and faith in the other - would be their salvation. That their fear would not be their destruction.
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Dean kept his eyes closed as Jim had instructed him, knowing if he opened his eyes he would lose the concentration needed to sustain an extended meditative state. At least that's what Jim called it; Dean still thought it was way too Yanni and yoga-like for him.
Sam he whispered in his mind, focussing on an image of Sam, the most familiar being that of his brother sitting beside him in the Impala, his head half-cocked and his lips twitching into the easy smile that these days was becoming all too rare.
A familiar presence drew near.
"Sam?" Dean was almost reluctant to speak, frightened to in case it broke the fragile connection.
Only silence. And Dean could almost feel his brother move a little away and all he could sense was fear.
"Sammy, it's just me. I've come to take you home." The awareness of his brother seemed to weaken imperceptibly, as if he had taken another step away.
The fear now contained tendrils of panic and the sensation of distance increased.
"There's nothing to be afraid of little brother. You're safe now." Confusion muddied the emotions now swirling around Dean and he realised that Sam had not been fearful for his own safety.
"Don't be an idiot. I can look after myself." This was met with disbelief.
"Enough with the silent treatment, Sam. C'mon, you love to talk – and you have a captive audience. It must be killing you."
"If I talk will you leave me alone?" His brother's familiar soft tones filled the air around him and Dean could feel the grin spread across his face. He felt an almost irresistible urge to open his eyes.
"No." Stupid question, Sam. Not gonna happen.
His brother sighed in fond exasperation. "I can't, Dean. What if it doesn't work right and I come back different? It's too dangerous."
"We'd fix it."
"You can't fix everything."
"Says who?"
"Life." Sam's voice sounded incredibly weary and careworn. "Be sensible, Dean. What if the demon somehow tagged along, what if Dad..."
"Dad's an asshole." The elder brother interrupted angrily. He could feel the connection waver with his heightened emotion and Sam's shock at what he had said. He needed to stay calm.
"Christo." Sam's voice suddenly regaining the trace of fear from earlier.
"I'm not possessed, dude." Amusement laced Dean's voice.
"But you called Dad an asshole. You've never called him an asshole."
"Yeah, well I was trying to protect your delicate sensibilities. Actually, while I'm on the subject, you're an asshole, too."
"What?"
"What the hell were you thinking, Sam? Making deals with Reapers?" Dean was fighting down the fear-fuelled fury that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought about Sam's deal.
"I wasn't going to lose you. I couldn't let you die!" Sam's voice rose, the timbre still catching an etching of remembered grief.
"But it's ok for you to? Tell me college boy, did you never come across the word 'hypocrite' in all your studies? Or the term 'selfish bastard'? Did you never think how I would feel knowing you died because of me?"
"You were never supposed to find out at all." Sam murmured.
"Oh, that makes it alright then! Shit, Sam, whatever happened to not keeping secrets from each other or lying?"
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. You can't make me regret my decision, not when it saved you." Sam's voice was firm and Dean knew it was pointless to continue this for now.
"We'll talk about this later, once you're back."
Sam shook his head before realising that his brother couldn't see the action.
"No, Dean, Dad's right."
"No, he's not."
Two astounding statements in as many minutes. Good thing I'm dead already, or else the shock could have killed me, Sam thought to himself humourlessly.
"It's over. I'm dead. You always say what's dead should stay dead."
"Doesn't count. You're not dead, Sammy. Well, not completely."
"What?"
"Something about your soul being taken too soon." Dean quickly explained the situation with Nick and Laurel. "Honestly I don't give a rat's ass why and how but if we can get you back to you body soon, then it's a do-over, no zombie, no consequences."
"There's always consequences Dean, it just sometimes takes time to realise what they are." Sam spoke tiredly.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Dean's voice was firm.
Like that argument would stop Sam from disagreeing with him.
"Two wrongs don't make a right." His brother countered.
"Don't go looking for trouble." The elder brother could feel his lips curve. Really, Sam should know better than to start this game.
"Don't bite off more than you can chew." The youngest Winchester's voice warmed with his amusement.
"Don't put the cart before the horse." Dean answered
"Don't..." Sam started.
"Are we really going to do the whole wise old sayings thing, because you know being older, and wiser, I'll kick your ass?" Dean interrupted.
"Well, you are old…"
"Don't start. You know it's not wise to piss off the man with a shotgun full of rock salt." Dean warned.
"You wouldn't shoot your own brother would you?" Sam teased. He had missed his brother so much he couldn't resist falling into the familiar banter. However, the moment the said those words, he wished he could pull them back. He had shot his own brother – four times, five counting the rock salt…
Dean could feel the guilt permeate the air around them and internally groaned. He knew that Sam would never forgive himself for the events at Roosevelt Asylum. "Let it go, Sam." He whispered.
"Would you?" His brother argued.
No.
Sam continued. "I know what it feels like, to shoot my brother. We were lucky, I didn't kill you. But it taught me that I could never live with that if I were to ever actually succeed. Don't you see, Dean? One day I will be a danger to you, either by my own hand or an error of judgement or the demon controlling me. Dad knows this, and deep down, brother, you know this. This is the best way."
"No, this is the stupid way..."
"Leave, Dean."
"Not gonna happen, Sam. We can fight this, and we can fight the demon."
"I'm tired, Dean. I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of living with the guilt of those that have died because of me, of worrying in case I hurt someone, hurt you. I'm tired of being afraid."
"So, this is your answer? Hide away from the world, from the demon, from me? I never took you for a coward, Sam." The elder brother provoked.
"Dammit Dean, can't you see this is the only way I can protect you from me?" Sam's voice was strained.
"Stop being a drama queen, Frances. I do not need protection from you. You would never hurt me. Shit, Sam, you feel sorry for half the spirits we come across. You're the most compassionate and gentle man I know. I swear I have more to fear from the tooth fairy than from you. Actually I always found that little bitch creepy, I mean, kids' teeth? She's probably working some freaky-assed voodoo crap on them."
"Dean."
"C'mon Sam. You're not gonna give up on me are you?" Dean became aware he was resorting to wheedling.
"I can't risk it."
"Can't? Or won't."
"Won't."
Damn, damn, DAMN his stubborn little brother to hell! Dean took a deep breath, reasoning wasn't going to work, and that only left emotional blackmail.
"Please, Sam. You promised you wouldn't leave me alone, remember?"
"You have Dad."
"You want me to be like him, dude? Because you know that's how it will turn out."
Sam avoided the question. "You've always wanted to be like Dad, Dean, ever since you were little."
"You wanted to be a ballerina."
"I did not! No, I used to want to be you." Sam admitted quietly.
"What?"
"You were my hero, Dean, still are. You were always so sure, so confident and strong – and Dad thought the sun shone out of your ass."
"He's not the only one."
His brother ignored him as he continued. "You were always the strong one – I'm the weak link in the chain. Everything seemed to come so easily to you and I always felt like I was a weight around your neck, pulling you down, threatening to drown you."
"That's a bit melodramatic, even for you, don't you think?"
"You always looked out for me, brought me up, taught me everything I knew."
"Finally, you admit it."
"Hear me out, Dean. You gave so much up for me, your own childhood, for a start. I can never repay you for all that you have done. This way, at least I could protect you, give a little back."
"You want to be like me? Then that's easy - I wouldn't abandon you!"
"I'm not! I swear. I'm doing this for you! Please Dean, please understand. I don't want to leave." His brother's voice sounded near tears and distraught.
"Then get your stubborn, scrawny, beanpole ass back home. I'll never forgive you if you walk out on me again, Sam. Not like this. You want to repay me, then stop hiding away here - you owe me that much!"
He could feel Sam's guilt and distress at the pain he thought he was causing his brother and Dean kept his real feelings under wraps. He knew what buttons to press and he would not hesitate in pushing them if it helped save his brother. He wasn't hurt at Sam wanting to just let go, he understood his brother was only trying to keep him from harm, to do what he thought was the right thing. But protecting his brother was his job, not Sam's. Yeah, I'm a hypocrite too…
"What if I come back wrong, De?" Sam's distress leeching into his voice and Dean wanted nothing more than to pick his brother up in his arms like when they were little and hide along with him.
"We have put so much protection in Jim's church you'd think Jesus himself was visiting."
"But what if the Demon manages to get through? Dad said it was irreversible. One of you would have to shoot me, De, and I couldn't do that to you."
"Dad should learn to keep his mouth shut."
"You know he's right." Sam sighed. "I don't want to do that to either of you. Please don't stay angry at Dad. He's trying to do the right thing."
"I know, just sometimes his priorities are a little screwed. And let's face it – Dad has been wrong before." Sam huffed a laugh. Dean's voice gentled, "Nick didn't tell the Demon where you are, he doesn't know you're here and you are in the most protected place on earth. Please Sammy, I need you to come back; don't give up on me just yet. We can take on the future later."
"But what if…"
"No more what ifs, little brother. We'll beat this, always have, always will."
"But…"
"No, Sam. You're not alone; you don't have to fight this by yourself. I know you're tired but we can do this. Together, we can do this."
"I don't want to hurt you." Sam whispered.
"I know, but if you let go now kiddo, you'll hurt me far more. Come on home, Sammy, for me?" It had never failed, from learning to eat solids to tying his laces, for hunting and for quieting arguments with their Dad; Sam had always caved when Dean used this tactic. It was underhanded and manipulative, but it worked.
Sam closed his eyes in defeat. He never could refuse his brother.
"For you."
Dean held out an unseen hand. "Take my hand. There's a cord attached to my wrist. It will guide your way back."
Sam held onto his brother's hand tightly, suddenly frightened to let go. He had felt the dreadful pull to move on earlier, before he entered the protection of the amulet. He felt like he was still 5 years old clinging to the safety of his brother.
"What if I'm not strong enough, De? What if I can't find my way, what if I become lost?"
"I'll always find you, Sammy. I promise, I'll always find you."
Sam relaxed - his faith in his brother finally giving him the strength to try. "For Dean…" He whispered to himself. His brother was right, he owed Dean this at least and let go of his brother's hand.
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Dean opened his eyes to find that his father, Caleb and Jim had come back into the church. He ignored them and watched his brother's body with desperate hope, waiting for any sign that the ritual had worked. Sam remained still and lifeless. He still had a hold of one of Sam's hands, and gently brushed his thumb across the knuckles. He leant across his brother's shoulder, a wisp of breath brushing across his brother's ear.
"Please Sammy, come home..."
Still nothing.
Dean continued in the same whisper-soft tone. "You're gonna make me say it Sam aren't you? In front of witnesses. Alright you needy bitch, I love you, Sammy. Now get your ghostly ass back into your body before I shoot Damien here and send him to fetch you."
"You should have gotten a refund from that Charm School you sent Deuce to, Winchester." Caleb muttered to John. Dean should have known Caleb would hear. John glared at him, his eyes clearly telling him to shut the hell up
Dean felt as if the air was being sucked from the room. Light seemed to dance in front of his eyes and dizziness swept through him. Small globes, brilliant and mesmerising, began to rise from the pendant. They swirled, incandescent, breathtaking, bright colours flowing and pulsing in a flight of fluidic light. They danced almost playfully, effortlessly and flowed out around the room.
"Dammit Sam, you're going the wrong way." Dean muttered.
The globes briefly touched against each person in the room, a soft feather-light glance, but with each touch a feeling of love and warmth, a lightening of the weary souls within. A gift of essence.
Dean began to panic. "Get your ass over here Sam and back in your body. Stop fucking around." He was terrified his brother was actually saying goodbye.
The lights finally soared back, but instead of Sam's body they flowed around Dean and with the touch Dean could finally sense his brother. The touch was fleeting but warmed his soul, a sense of an apology for decisions made, a determination to go on, but most of all love and gratitude towards the elder sibling.
"Enough of the chick flick, Sam." Dean reproached and the lights lifted away and rested upon Sam's body.
Dean watched, unknowingly holding his breath as the lights seemed to slowly sink into Sam, and then, with a suddenness that startled him, Sam drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Dean grasped his hand tightly.
The young hunter's eyes opened, and the wide brown eyes shining out were unmistakably Sam's.
"Found you." Dean whispered.
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A/N – I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am rather worried in case it is too syrupy and that you hate it!
Frets.
Oh well, too late now! Please read and review and let me know what you think. I seriously appreciate everyone who takes the time to review. You guys make my day - thank you! I only ask that if you do have any constructive criticism, you have the courtesy to not do it anonymously and to allow me the opportunity to respond. It can be a little upsetting and frustrating especially if there is a reason I have done something in a particular way. Also, I can then thank you for taking the time to review - as long as fanfic plays nice that is!
Thank you for reading!
Dream