Hey everyone! Okay, so now I feel pretty bad, cause I haven't updated in nearly two months, yeah, sorry about that. Well, I've been lying sick all week so I might as well write a little on this story. I really don't want the story to progress so slowly, but it's the reviews who keep me going, so the more reviews I get the faster I updated xD.
And THANK YOU everyone who reviewed! 27 reviews in two chapters, that is a record for me, I think, yep. And some of you were worried when I brought in Neil in the last chapter, I would've been too. Heh. Don't worry, I could never bring Sam back as an evil zombie. Never. So, here's chapter 3 and I hope you all enjoy.
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Your heavy heart is made of stone... - "A Message" - Coldplay
--
Pushing the wheel-chair back in, Dean stepped over the treshold and closed the door behind him. Dean turned to Neil and gave him one of his famous trade-mark smirks. Neil looked possibly both spooked and terrified.
"Long time no see, Neil," said Dean and took a step closer. Neil grabbed his wheels and pushed himself slightly backwards. "I see you survived your little encounter with the living dead." Dean nodded to the wheelchair.
"I'm paralyzed," countered Neil with raised eyebrows.
Dean took a step pass Neil and looked around in the semi-lit living room. "Yeah, well, you get my point." Sarcasm was one of Dean's big specialties. However, Sam was usually the reason Dean was being sarcastic.
"Look, man," said Neil and swallowed. "What are you doing here?"
Dean knew very well that he shouldn't be there at all. He didn't even know what he came to think of when he contacted Neil. Guess he was thinking of Sammy too much to care to think what the hell it was he was going. "I told you," said Dean urgently. "We're gonna perform a spell. I need someone from the dead."
"What?" Neil looked appalled. "Are you crazy, dude? You can't bring someone back like that!"
Dean looked over at Neil darkly, his eyebrows raised. "You did."
"Yeah," Neil agreed. "And look how good that turned out." Dean turned away, and glanced over at the dancing shadows the small lamp from the table threw at the wall. "That wasn't Angela. That was some souless being from hell without a mind or conscience."
Dean nodded and turned his attention back to Neil, his green eyes glittering in the dark. "Yeah, you got that right. But you only brought back Angela's body. Now, I'm not gonna make the same mistake that you did." He turned to Neil completely, his half face hidden in the shadows. "I'm going to bring back the body, the mind and the heart. Everything."
"Dude, I can't," said Neil and shook his head, looking afraid. "Look, what happened to me the last time I brought someone back from hell. I am wheel-chaired bound for life."
Dean slowly leaned over, and rested his hands on both sides of the wheel-chair and looked into Neil's eyes. I am not playing games. And Dean needed Neil to understand that. "If you don't help me with this-" Neil gulped. "Believe me when I say that being wheel-chaired bound for the rest of your life is gonna be the least of your problems."
Neil held up his hands in defense and Dean backed off slightly. "Alright, man, just chill," said Neil in a shaking voice.
"Do you have the spell?"
"No, I got rid of that thing long ago."
"So, where can I find a copy?"
Neil rubbed his temples, looking like he was trying to figure out an extra difficult math problem. "Um... In the book where I found the spell."
"And where's the book now?" asked Dean sternly.
"Um, the library at the school," said Neil blinking a few times. "But it oughta be closed by now."
Dean smirked. Like a closed library was gonna keep him away from that book when it felt like everything depended on that single spell. "Oh, that won't be a problem. I'll get the spell, you prep everything else. I'll be back. Soon."
Dean turned around, grabbed the door-knot and walked outside, closing the door behind him.
Neil let out a relieved sigh and ran a hand across his face, wiping away the sweat. This guy meant serious business.
--
Dean walked down the stone-path leading from Neil's house. He knew he must've acted like a crazy desperate man, but right now he didn't seem to care much. He walked over to the Impala and just stood against it for a minute. The spell was gonna work, right? It oughta to be. If he did it right, with no mistakes, Sam would come back. He would be geek-boy Sammy again. And they would be a family again.
Dean took a deep breath and turned around leaning his head against the car, letting the cold wind brush through his hair. God. If he had protected Sam in the first place he wouldn't be here right now, and Sam wouldn't lie rutting in a wooden coffin. A soft sob escaped Dean's lips and shook his head slightly, he wasn't gonna break down now. Not here. A loud-pitched ring signal caught Dean's attention and he immediately stuck his hand into his pocket and dragged out his phone.
"Hello?"
"Dean, where are you?" His father. Dean should've known that he wasn't gonna travel far without his father calling him sooner or later.
"Dad, I can't really talk right now," said Dean, to his big surprise, coldly. He usually wasn't rejective towards his father. He didn't go against his father, that was always Sam's job. "I don't have the time." Dean opened the door to the Impala and slid in.
"Well you will make time, son." That's John Winchester, always sending out orders wherever he walked. "Now where are you?"
"Dad, just don't ask," said Dean curtly.
"Yeah, well, I'm asking."
"Just don't worry about me," said Dean as he started the engine of his car. He smiled inwards at all those times Sam had complained about the function of the Impala. At the time, Dean had wanted nothing more than to shut Sam up, now however, he would give the world just to hear Sam gag about the car again. "I just need some time to think, I'll be back soon," Dean finished.
"Look, son, I know this isn't easy for you, it isn't for me either," Dean couldn't help to feel slightly guilty as he heard the sadness in his father's voice. "That's why we need to work together on this. Sammy wouldn't have wanted this family to fall apart." Dean closed his eyes, as it felt like his heart turned in his chest, he hated when people talked about Sam. It made the painful feeling he was feeling inside even more unbearable.
"No, see dad, Sam's dead," said Dean, his voice crackin' with emotion. "So we really wouldn't know at all what Sam would've wanted."
"Dean..."
Dean opened his eyes. "Just give me some space, dad," and than he flipped the phone shut. He threw the phone onto the passenger seat and just sat in the car, looking out in the darkness infront of him. Was it night already? Weird, he hadn't noticed that the sun had set. However, it had been long since he had really seen the sun with his eyes so it didn't really matter. It was a weird feeling, he thought, feeling so lost. And lonely. He could hear his brother's voice echoing through his mind.
People just don't disappear Dean, other people just stop looking for them...
Dean leaned forward, grabbing his belly, as several desperate sobs wretched through his whole body. "Sam..." his voice came out as a mere plea whisper, as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. No... He wasn't gonna break down. He needed to pull himself together. He straightened up and swallowed. "Don't worry, Sammy, I won't stop looking for you."
--
"So, how are we gonna play this?" asked Dean as he threw down the book infront of Neil who looked at it in disbelief. Dean figured that Neil probably hadn't expect Dean to have gotten hold of the book. Never underestimate a brother in grief.
"Actually, still wheel-chaired bound over here," replied Neil and indicated to the rolling chair underneath him with his hands. "So, it won't be 'us' playing this," Neil grabbed the book and wheeled past Dean. "It'll be you."
"What? You need legs to use your mouth now too?" said Dean sarcastically. Neil scowled at him. Dean smirked. "I just need you to read the text. Ancient greek isn't exactly my specialty. But I think it's yours."
Neil just shook his head. "I just don't get why you're doing this, Dean. If anything goes wrong-"
"It won't go wrong," interrupted Dean as he loaded a shut-gun carefully. Maybe not exactly the weapon you needed when you were about to bring someone back to life, but hey, better safe than sorry.
"I just don't understand who it is you're willing to sacrifice so much for..."
Dean shoved the shot-gun down on the table loudly and angrily turned to Neil. "It's Sam, alright?!" Dean didn't really wanna mention Sam in all of this, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Neil would've asked anyway.
"Your partner?" asked Neil with a frown.
Dean snorted. "Yeah, my partner." Dean sighed heavily. "My brother too." Dean picked up the shot-gun and shoved it down his inside-pocket and grabbed the herbs needed for the spell that layed on the table too.
"Right," said Neil quietly and looked down for a short moment, before looking up at Dean again. "Well, if this is gonna work properly, we need to be by Sam's body." Neil looked sympathetic.
Dean felt completely shattered at that, however it was probably nothing compared to how he looked.
Neil's eyes widened slightly. "He does have a body, right? I mean, you didn't-"
"Don't," warned Dean. He didn't wanna hear more, and if Neil said another word about Sam, Dean was a hundred percent sure that he was gonna jump him and punch him to death. "There's a grave if that's what you mean," choked Dean out and also grabbed his special knife that he always carried around.
"That's what it takes," countered Neil, nodding. "I mean, if Sam had been crem-"
"Help me God, but if you say one more word, Neil, I am gonna shoot your wheel-chaired bound ass," warned Dean in a murderous tone, which had great affect since Neil suddenly looked like he was about to puke. "And you know I will."
Neil just gave a small nod.
"Alright," Dean straightened up and walked past Neil and opened the front door. "We have a little road-trip a head of us, so we should go now." Neil gave him a glare, and Dean couldn't help but to give a smirk. "Or in your case roll."
Neil rolled past Dean with an offended look. "Very funny."
"I'm a funny guy," said Dean with a shrug. Hell, this was gonna be one long trip.
---
John walked down the aisle of the small, but actually very beautiful church. It was the same church where they had buried Sammy. The funeral itself had taken place outside. John didn't have the heart back then to even step a foot inside the church. Now, he felt kind of forced to. He didn't know where else to turn. And he needed to get his emotions out.
John turned towards the confession booth and walked inside and sat down. Hell, it had been a very long time since his last confession, he couldn't even remember the last time. Still, John hunted demons for supper and poltergeists for dessert, a little faith-hunting wouldn't been all that hard. A dragging sound could be heard and John saw the small contours of the priest sitting on the other side of the grating.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," said John quietly. Oh, hell, yes, he had sinned. But his biggest sin must've been not protecting Sammy like had had promised Mary, instead he had given over that responsibility to his oldest son. Stupid shit.
"How long has it been since your last confession?" came the normal response from the priest on the other side.
John pinched the bridge of his noise and ran a hand through his unwashed hair. "Well, it's been a couple of... decades." John let out a small snort. "Yeah, it's been a long time. I haven't been in a church since my wife died, at least not on a ceremony."
"Are you sure of that son?" asked the priest from the other side of the grating.
John gave a small shrug. "Of course have I been in a church after my wife's funeral, but that was actually more like..." John smiled. "Trespassing. And I didn't exactly go to church to get some advice from the big guy," John said, obviously refering to the so-called God-man. "The last time I remember being in a church, I was actually performing a dang - sorry, Father - hard exorcism."
A small sigh could be heard from the other side. "Hm. And you did clean up after you, I persume?"
John grinned sheepishly. "Someone else did it for me, I think."
"Well, son, the Lord is very forgiving," said the priest. "Just not to sons-of-bitches like yourself."
John snorted in laughter and got out of the booth immediately, so did the priest obviously, since he was outside the booth before John was. Jim Murphy held his arms out. "Now give me some love, your old demon hunter." John smiled and gave Jim a bear hug. The two men broke apart and grinned at each other.
"Now, who are you calling old, old man?" asked John jokingly. "You're starting to reach your golden age, now aren't you?"
Jim let out a sound that sound like 'pffiut', and waved a hand at John. "Please, I'm still in my mid-fifties."
"You're 64, Jim."
"Well, in spirit-"
"Yeah, yeah, in spirit, I'm 26."
Jim winced. "Yes, good point. Let's not look at it like that." The two men started to walk towards the altar as the subject came into the one thing John knew was gonna come up. "So how are things?" asked Jim casually.
Joh nodded lightly with a small smile. "Things are..." The smile fell, suddenly replaced with a sadness. "Not good. Things are actually pretty bad." Jim nodded in understandment and rested a hand on John's shoulder as they sat down on a bench infront of the altar. "I don't know what to do, Jim," John sighed and finally let his shield down. It was one thing when the older hunter was with Dean, he could never let his guard down like that with him, but with Jim it was different. "I'm worried about Dean, ever since the funeral..."
Jim held up a hand to silence John. "John, my old friend, Dean's grieving, it's natural. And you oughta let him. You need to let Dean handle the shit he's feeling."
John cleared his throat, and smiled a little at his old priest friend. "And how many times have you told me to swear in church is completely out of the question?"
Jim, however, didn't look the slightest bit guilty. "Well, swearing is how I deal with grief. Being distant and angry however is Dean's way." Jim frowned. "But the questions is, what is yours? You know except for going a little mad and hunt down demons."
"I think I'm still trying to figure that out," said John honestly. Truth was, John was still in denial. A part of him felt like everything was gonna be alright. "It's just... I've never felt this guilty before, not even when Mary..."
"John..."
John looked at Jim with glassy eyes, as he felt tears forming underneath his eyelocks. "I promised, Mary. I promised her I'd keep the boys safe, no matter what happened. Now look how that turned out."
Jim shook his head easily. "You can't control the power of nature, John. None of us can."
Boy, who wrong both of the older men was, which they were soon about to find out...
---
Alright. This was it. The moment has about to start. The moment that was the only thing Dean had been thinking about the last twelve hours. Now, both Dean and Neil was standing infront of Sam's grave, with another thousand herbs that was outspread around Sam's grave. Neil took out a small bottle and poured a blue-looking liquid over the grass.
Dean straightened up and cast a glance at Neil. "Everything's set?"
"Yeah, it should," said Neil and took out a small double-edged knife. "If it isn't... we're about to find out in a new seconds." Dean nodded at Neil, giving him the sign to start. Neil leaned over and grabbed the large ancient book lying next to his wheel-chair at the grass. He opened the book and find the right page and started to read out loud in greek.
The wind started to pick up, and a few of the lit candles on some graves suddenly blew out. Weird noises could be heard from the sky as Neil kept chanting in greek. Well, that can't be good, thought Dean. But he hadn't time to be responsible right now, he had promised to take care of Sam forever and that was what he was doing to. "Come on," muttered Dean to himself, praying with every limb in his body.
"Dean," Neil yelled out, and Dean knew that was his cue. He grabbed some of the black voodoo powder Neil had given him earlier and threw it across the grave. Before the powder even hit the grass it disappeared and instead a black ray of light shot through the grass and down into the earth and disappeared. Neil threw Dean the knife and Dean grabbed it. "Now he needs your blood," said Neil cryptically. Dean didn't hesitate for a moment and dragged the sharp knife across his palm. Dean flinched slightly, as he dropped his blood over Sam's grave.
Dean stepped backwards, and the wind layed down again. Dean looked over at Neil with raised eyebrows, "Well?"
"It's done," said Neil simply.
Dean looked merely impressed. "Hm, it was that easy? I oughta do this more often."
"Resurrection rituals are never easy," said Neil outrageously. "And it's certainly not something to joke about."
"I never said I was joking," said Dean and grabbed the double-edged knife.
"Still," said Neil sourly. "You shouldn't expect too much. There's possibly around 30 percent chance that the spell actually worked, and around 5 percent chance that even if the spell worked, Sam was brought back." Dean felt something form in his throat, and he looked at Neil menacingly. "It's not my fault, Dean. That's just how it works."
"But, if it works," said Dean, a light hope aching in his voice. "How long will it take?"
Neil shrugged. "I think it's different from case to case. Angela came back after around a minute, but she wasn't exactly human." Dean looked down. "Dean, I don't think it worked." Dean looked away, as another set of tears started to form in his eyes, blurring his vision. "But maybe it's for the best, you shouldn't play God, I've learned that the hard way." A small tear ran down Dean's cheek quietly, as Neil rolled his wheel-chair out of sight. "Don't worry, I'll just take the bus back home." And then he was gone.
The cold harsh truth hit Dean hard as it finally came to him for the very first time. Sam was dead. His baby brother was truly gone, and he wasn't coming back, no matter how many voodoo spells Dean cast. The legs beneath him gave up, and Dean quietly sank to the ground, his eyes never leaving Sam's name that was carved into the stone. "I'm so sorry, Sam," came the whisper of anguish from Dean's lips. He looked around and noticed a shovel nearby.
It's around 30 percent chance that the spell actually worked.
Neil's voice echoed in his mind as Dean reached for the shovel and started digging. He knew he'd probably burn in hell for it, but if Sam really did wake up, he needed to get him out of the coffin. Dean dug with a speed he never had used before and when he finally felt the hardness underneath the shovel a feeling of nausea spread through his body. Dean threw away the shovel and kneeled. Now if the spell hadn't worked, Sam's rutting corpse was gonna lie in the coffin and Dean would probably turn mental for the rest of his life.
Just as he was about to reach and grab the coffin lock, another wind breezed through the trees and Dean's hair. Dean's hand stopped and he frowned, when he heard a small whimpering. "What the hell...?" Dean stood up and looked around, the whimpering could still be heard. It sounded slightly inhuman. Dean got out of the open grave and looked around in the empty dark cemetery. "Hello?" The whimpering grew louder, and now it more sounded like someone was sobbing.
Dean turned around and was shocked to see a naked young man lying a few yards away. Oh, god. The man was obviously hurt since he had large gashes and bruising on his back. Dean rushed across the lawn and feel to his knees next to the young man. "Hey?" He gently layed his hand on the naked man's shoulder and warmth spread through his body, a warmth he hadn't felt since... "Sammy?" Dean gently turned him around and he let out a gasp when he noticed that the young shivering man was Sam.
"Oh, god, Sam," Dean choked and lifted Sam's naked fragile body up in his arms. A few tears escaped Dean's eyes as he touched his little brother's face with a gentleness he didn't know he had in him. It worked! It worked! Dean mentally screamed of joy and relief. Sam looked exactly the same since the last time Dean had seen him, his brown bangs hanging into his face.
Dean held Sam even closer, to make sure Sam wasn't cold, as Sam's eyes started to flutter. Finally after a lot of strength, Sam's eyes opened and Dean just smiled through his tears as he looked when Sam's eyes searched his. "Dean?"
"It's OK, Sammy," whispered Dean softly and with great warmth. "I got you. It's gonna be OK now."
Sam closed his eyes and swallowed a few times. "Dean, I've missed you."
Dean let out another sob between joy and sadness. "I've missed you too, little brother."
As long as I'm around... Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.
And boy, Dean was gonna keep that promise. Now he'd never let his brother go again.
---
Alrighty! And there it was! Chapter Three! Oh, and I hope you all know who Pastor Jim is? Now he was actually killed in episode 'Salvation', but this is kinda AU, so he's still alive, just like John... and just like Sam now. I hope you guys were satisfied with the way I brought Sam back, it was the best way I could think of. I didn't want him to like crawl out of the coffin, that's just too much Buffy.
Alright, now when Sam's back and Dean's back in fighting mode, I will bring on all hell's demons. So check out the next chapter (which I've actually already started on, yay!) cause the Winchester Brothers are back then and the demons are coming to bring Sam back to hell. Oh and also F.Y.I. this isn't gonna be a one-shot, I will have Sam's point of view sometimes and John's too.
And OH MY GOD! I am sorry, but I need to mention this. Did you guys see the last trailer at the end of Crossroads Blues, seems like Deanie thinks Sam really is dead in that explosion. Maybe we finally get that darn hug? xD.
Now, don't you forget to review!