SUPERNATURAL

THE PARCAEX RITUAL

Note - This fic was actually written before Season Four was released, so any similarities are purely coincidental.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are strongly appreciated.

Chapter One


Last time I was here, I watched my father die. I watched him die to save Dean.

Sam lay beneath the white linen of his hospital bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling as time flew past him, hours within seconds, days within minutes. He had no idea exactly how long he had been lying there for, though he suspected it was quite a while. But he cared not; in fact, he cared for nothing at that moment.

They're all gone, and what do I have to show for it?

The hospital had a sickening familiarity to it, and after what happened to his father, Sam had never wished to come back here. He had lost everybody that he had ever loved, and being at the scene of one of their untimely deaths reminded him of just how much he had given; how long he had suffered for.

I lost Mom. I lost Jess. Dad is dead, and now Dean too.

And on top of all that, he couldn't even remember how he had gotten there in the first place. One moment he had been crouching over Dean's mutilated corpse, and the next…

I must have blacked out, he assumed.

And the next moment he had woken up here. Of all the hospitals, he thought. But it was when his conscious memory caught up to him, and he remembered where Dean was, that a sick emptiness settle within the pits of his stomach.

Sam felt a single tear reach his eye at the thought of his brother. There was no explanation in the world that could describe the depth of his sorrow – the extent of his grief.

In an attempt to put this misery from his mind, Sam sat up and glanced through the doorway, where he caught a glimpse of two important-looking men in rather expensive suits reasoning with a young doctor. Their words were inaudible, no matter how hard Sam strained his ears, but the doctor seemed to give in to the men after a short argument, moving to the side and beckoning them reluctantly into Sam's ward.

'Well, well, well,' the first man smirked, 'if it isn't Sammy Winchester.'

After closing the doors behind him, a bemused expression upon his face, the second man approached the side of Sam's bed and flashed a golden badge across his line of vision. 'I am Agent Moore and this here,' he gestured towards his partner, 'is Agent Forster. We're Federal Marshals.'

After surveying Sam's immediate reaction to this, Agent Forster leaned in closer. 'No Sam, we're not imposters,' he grinned, before stepping back beside his partner, adding, 'Unlike you.'

'What do you want?' Sam snarled, glaring at the two of them. He was in no mood to deal with feds at that moment. But they just stood beside him, smiling threateningly, knowing that they had him exactly where they wanted.

Agent Moore stared at him in amusement, 'What do we want?' he chuckled, 'Oh, where to start? Can you just imagine the length of your criminal record, Sam? A lifetime of credit-card frauds, accessory to murder, suspicious circumstances arising all over the country – exactly where you happen to be at the time – and not to mention escape from a state penitentiary.'

'Twice.' Forster piped in.

'The second escape,' Moore continued, 'Well, truthfully, we don't know what to believe. When the authorities arrived at the scene, the whole prison was a large pile of smoking debris. We found the bodies of eighteen men and women who were working shifts at the prison that night, and an even larger number in prisoners.

'But Sam and Dean Winchester – the pride of all Hendrickson's dealings – were nowhere to be found. Obviously, we knew instantly who was behind the whole masquerade, and ever since that we've been closing in on your tail, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.'

'So, what?' Sam questioned, 'You've been assigned to Hendrickson's job after he met his death that night at the prison?'

Forster laughed at this, 'Sammy boy, listen. We are in no league with that obsessive lunatic. Agent Moore and I, in fact, employed Agent Hendrickson. He worked for us, doing what we told him to. We were always the higher power, and boy, if you think he was bad, then you're going to have one hell of a time with us.'

'But Sam,' he went on, holding up one finger, 'we're not here to put you away… just yet.' He shook his head.

Moore took over the talking from there. 'Only last night, we had an inside man inform us of your exact location. He spoke of strange disturbances within a house that you had taken refuge in. We came in, fully armored with weapons raised, and do you know what we found?'

'A Snoopy figurine from one in three specially marked packs of Fruit Loops?'

Forster looked at him for a moment, sighing. 'Truly your brothers kin,' he commented. 'No, Sam. It was you, upstairs, unconscious and crouched over the mutilated body of your brother with quite an interesting blade in your hands. Not to mention, downstairs in the house, an elderly man with a broken neck, and a pet dog brutally slaughtered in the basement.'

Sam said nothing, but kept his facial expression clean as his mind reviewed everything that had happened that night, flashbacks to the image of the dead family pet and the little girl's grandfather. It was truly sickening.

'But there was one question that really stumped us.' Sam looked up. 'Why would you kill someone of your own flesh and blood? Why murder someone you've spent your whole life attached to? Somebody you've always held close? Especially in such a brutal and violent way as you did. This is where we're lost.'

'Ah, and the plot thickens,' Sam said stubbornly.

Forster ignored this, and continued, 'We want to know why you did it, and don't even bother starting with all this ghost crap we've heard so much about, or I'll personally make sure that you never see the light of day again.'

'Not that you will anyway,' Moor said, 'But I think you catch our drift. Tell us, Sam, why would you do such a thing?'

Sam knew he was in a tight spot, but was still too shaken by Dean's death to even begin thinking straight, let along figure out some way to get himself out of this one.

Sam's silence seemed to irritate the Agents, and he expected some kind of screaming session to begin, when the door swung open, and a voice called to the Marshals, 'Agents, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you to leave now. You may return later, but we are scheduled for testing on Mr. Winchester, now that he is awake again.'

The voice seemed familiar to Sam, and yet his mind was too puzzled to recognise it, or even attempt to try for that matter. His neck was stiff, and so he did not bother to turn his head. He did not want to draw attention to the Agents again before they left.

Moore stared for a second, 'Fine. But when you have finished these… tests, I want you to report directly to us,' he demanded, 'We want to know every last detail. You got that?' He leant in closer to Sam, so that not even his partner could hear him whisper, 'Enjoy your last moments, little boy. Playtime is over. You're mine.'

Forster left the room, but Moore stopped in the doorway on his way out. 'By the way, if you could also send us the autopsy results from his brother, that would be much appreciated.' He put on a sarcastic smile and left, closing the door behind him.

'Well, that wasn't too difficult now, was it Sammy?' The voice moved to Sam's side, and looked upon the face of an old friend, a strange warmth spreading through his body.

'Bobby?'

'The one and only. Now, Sam, we have to move quickly. Those guys will be back before long, and they have eyes all over the hospital – so escaping from here may be a little more difficult than we had first thought.'

'Bobby,' Sam whispered, 'Do you know about-'

'-Dean?' he interrupted. 'Yes Sam, I know. But put that from your mind for the moment, we have an other problem on our hands, and we need to get you out of here as fast as we possibly can.'

At this, Sam sat up in his bed and pushed back the linen, looking up at Bobby before him. The sight of Bobby in this condition shocked him. He had combed his hair, shaven, tidied himself up and was wearing a neat suit, looking very professional and not at all the careworn, get-your-hands-dirty Bobby that he remembered.

'Bobby!' he exclaimed, 'You're… you're…'

Bobby looked at him in amusement.

'You're clean!'

Bobby laughed at this, still moving about as if preparing for something. Sam sighed with relief. He couldn't speak of how glad he was to see such a friendly face in a dark time like this, and suppressed a small smile.

'Lay still, Sam, we have some work to do here.' Sam nodded obediently, sitting back against his pillow. Bobby walked over to his heart-rate monitor and began pressing keys. After a few moments, he nodded in acceptance and called into the hallway; 'Come on, body! Let's get this over with!'

To Sam's shock, a group of eight men crowded into the room within a matter of seconds, all approaching different machines. A few stopped beside his bed and began attaching wired cables to his chest, and Sam noticed that the last man who walked in held a large Body Bad in his arms.

'Bobby, what-'

'Quiet, Sam. You're just going to have to trust me on this one. We don't have much time, and this is the only way we figured that we could get your out of here safely and unquestioned.'

'I don't understand,' he retorted.

'Everything will be explained,' Bobby replied with his back to the bed, fiddling with something on the table hidden from Sam's view, 'But not now.'

He turned around, holding before him a large syringe, and Sam stiffened at the sight of it. One of the men gave a small nod, and the room became eerily silent as Bobby approached him. 'Hold out your arm,' he insisted, and Sam hesitated. 'Don't be a wuss, it will only hurt for a moment.'

Sam tensed as Bobby came within reach, but knew that he had no choice but to trust him.

How could things possibly get any worse, anyway?

But there was something highly suspicious at work here at any rate. Sam simply gave in and held up his arm, accepting his fate.

A white-hot pain seared through his limb, spreading to his fingertips and burning to the bone. His insides began to cramp, and the whites of his eyes shone through the darkness as his head rolled back, and Sam's body temperature dropped rapidly.

The pain subsided, and his vision went black.

He knew no more.

'Time of death, 12:46am.'

****

The world was black.

Sam couldn't see a thing, though he was quite sure that his eyes were open. A putrid smell overcame his senses, and he attempted to shuffle as he wrinkled his nose in horror at the stench, but found himself incapable of moving.

Perhaps I'm dreaming, he thought.

Or perhaps I'm dead?

The sound of soft, pattering feet on tiled surface echoes beneath him, and it was in this moment that it struck him where he was.

The body bag in which he lay sat in the centre of a small room, perched upon a large table and the only contrast in the entire room from all the white.

Sam had no idea what was happening. He was lost, confused and utterly helpless, nor did he remember anything that had happened after Bobby pushed that needle into his veins, or have any idea at how he would get out of this mess.

Regaining the feeling in his limbs, Sam pulled his arms free from his sides and felt around the top of the bag for the zip. He pulled the body bag open.

A burning white light blinded him, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, from complete darkness to the light of the morgue. His legs felt as if they would give way at any second, greatly weakened and very slowly recuperating from the drugs effects. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he slowly moved around the enclosed room, allowing his body to gain momentum once more.

When he could see properly, Sam looked down at himself, dressed in neat clothing unknown to him, and realised that this must have all been the work of Bobby.

That sly dog, he muttered.

A sudden noise erupted from somewhere close, but not within the room itself, and Sam spun around to face the entrance, his fists raised high in a defensive position as the door flew off it's hinges and crashed to the floor at his feet.

Sam loosened the tension in his fingers as Bobby emerged from the doorway, quickly scanned the room and ran over to him. 'Sam,' he whispered, looking him up and down, sounding quite desperate and extremely rushed, 'I must say, it's good to see you up and about again, but hurry up, we're still in great danger here.'

Clueless as to what was going on, Sam followed at Bobby's heels, making their way through the white corridors, walking at a swift pace and not wasting any time. But this was all moving much too quickly for Sam's mind to take in, who stopped in his tracks defiantly. Bobby turned around and stared at him in confusion, 'Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

'Tell me what's going on.' He demanded, 'I've just woken up in a goddamn morgue, and I've got no idea how I got there. Why-'

'Sam,' Bobby growled, grabbing his arm, 'There's no time! You must follow me quickly – we need to get out of this place.'

'No, Bobby!' Sam exclaimed, pulling his arm free of Bobby's grasp. 'Tell me what's going on and I will decide for myself whether to trust you or not.'

Bobby stopped, staring at him impatiently, 'Okay Sam,' he sighed, 'First thing you need to know, is that there are Demons everywhere, thousands of them, probably circling this very building as we speak. What makes matters worse is that every single one of them seems to be after you. They had the hospital completely smothered, stationed all over the place, and I'm even convinced that some of the staff were also possessed. They were watching you, Sam. Waiting for you.

'By then we had no choice – we had to get you out, and we had to do it fast. Basically, we injected you with an anabolic drug known as Medicina de Muerte. The drug is actually illegal in 43 states, but there are ways around that. What the Medicina de Muerte did was shut down most of the body's vital organs for a short period of time, causing you to appear dead whilst keeping you alive through a complicated and exact chemical process. Your life-support system recorded it as a heart failure, and no questions were asked.'

Bobby stopped for a moment to observe Sam's expression for some kind of reaction, but there was no trace. He wasn't even sure if Sam was listening, but continued anyway. 'The death-like state would only last for up to five minutes before your organs would re-ignite – any longer and your body would not be able to cope without them – and you would be medically alive once more. But your body, recognising this as a disruption within your vital organs, induced a coma, which was to be expected. You've been here in the morgue for approximately fifteen hours. The 'healing' process that your body undertook was estimated to last an entire twenty-four hours, but we've been keeping an eye on you, just in case.' He pointed to the CCTV cameras above him.

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, seemingly uninterested. Bobby frowned, but didn't question him. They stood in silence for a few moments, in deep thought, until Sam decided to speak.

'Bobby,' he croaked, 'What happened to Dean?'

Bobby looked up in alarm, fearing amnesia on Sam's part. But he sighed in relief once he realised that Sam was actually speaking about the body of his brother. 'I'm not exactly sure what happened, but he disappeared from the hospital while you were sleeping. It seems that when the demons realised that you were gone, they took whatever they needed and left.' He sighed, 'I'm sorry, but we couldn't stop them.'

Sam nodded slowly, disappointed. He knew it made no difference to whether Dean would live or die, for he had been there, pinned to a wall, when that decision had been called. But he would liked to have buried his brother, and to have said goodbye to the best friend he'd ever had. He would've given anything for that opportunity.

But what would they want his body for? Sam asked himself.

The only plausible answer that came to his mind was them using his body as a shell – a meat-suit for demonic possession. Sam didn't think he could bear the site of coming face-to-face with a living replica of his brother again. He shuddered and tried to put it from his mind.

'What about Ruby?'

Bobby looked at him, 'What do you mean?'

'Er…Ruby?'

'Demon Ruby?'

'How many other Ruby's do we know?' Sam pointed out, before frowning, 'Hand on, wasn't she there with us when we were found?'

Bobby shrugged, 'Not that I know of. All I heard was that the Feds had found you lying over Dean's corpse. They said nothing about a third person.'

Sam sighed, 'They think I killed him.'

Bobby looked at him curiously, 'This bothers you?'

'Not particularly, it's just…' His voice trailed off.

'Just what?'

'Well, Dean had been hunting for most of his life,' Sam said. 'That's nineteen years from when Dad first started training him. In that time, he's saved hundreds – no, probably thousands – of people from certain death. To think that after all that, the only recognition he will get is a news report on an attack from his homicidal brother? It just… doesn't seem right.'

'Sam, we live in a world quite unlike what they know. A world where monsters, ghosts, spirits, vampires and demons prowl across the earth – Our job is not only to find and kill these things, but to protect all those who are unaware of them, and to keep them from living in fear of the dark.

'Only a handful of us know what truly happened that night. Sam, we live in this darkness, and we fight this evil. We're the protectors of the innocent, you might say – the Men in Black. Although, in our case,' he surveyed their clothing, 'it's more grey and white.'

Sam smiled, and the silence between them ensued. An unspoken bond lay between them regarding the death of Dean. It was as if part of them both had left forever, never to return.

Returning to a proper state of mind, and suddenly realising the situation they were in, Sam fired up. 'Okay,' he said seriously, 'What are we going to do about all this?'

'Haha! That's more like it, Sammy!' Bobby beckoned him out the door, 'Let us hurry before this whole place is stormed by Demons.'

They exited the front doors, having met nobody along the way, and out into the harsh cold of the morning. Dean's Chevrolet '67 Impala was parked on the side of the road, and Sam's stomach dropped at the sight of it. This was Dean's pride and joy; the one thing besides his family that he really cared about.

Sam was confused, 'Bobby, how did you get this back? Wouldn't they have taken it once they found Dean's body?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I have my tricks.'

Sam mused, 'Of course you do.'

They pulled the Impala doors open and stepped into the car. Sam wasn't exactly sure whether he was glad to be sitting inside the Impala again or not. In a way, it was just one large reminder of everything he had lost. But he felt a strange connection to it – as if he were somehow closer to Dean just by being in the car. It was an odd feeling.

'Where are we off to first?' Sam asked as Bobby turned the ignition.

'I think I've found something that we ought to check out,' he replied, 'And so we're off to Lawrence, Kansas.'

Sam blinked.

'That's right, Sam. We're going home.'

Sam wasn't sure whether he should be happy with this course or not, but he did not protest. He sat back in comfort, resting his eyes as Bobby pulled out onto the busy highway, a long twenty hour road-trip ahead of them.

****

They had barely been on the road for ten minutes when – quite unexpectedly – Sam's cell phone began to ring. His first instinct was to reach into his pockets, but when he found nothing Bobby pointed to the glove compartment.

Sam turned to him; 'They left the phone in here too?'

Bobby shrugged, 'I don't think they opened the car at all, actually. I took the keys from Dean's body before any of the feds would pluck up the courage to search him, and the windows seemed to be intact.'

Sam pulled out the mobile and flipped it open, marveling at the Federal Agents obvious stupidity. 'Hello?'

'Sam, it's me.'

Sam sat up, eyes wide, 'Ruby? Where are you, I need to talk to you.'

'I need your help, please come quickly!'

And the call ended. Sam slowly shut the phone, wondering what kind of situation a Demon could become trapped in that he would be able to help with.

And how the hell had she gotten away from the house before the feds arrived?

'What the hell was that all about?' Bobby asked, 'And what did Ruby want?'

Sam shrugged, 'She was in trouble of some sort. She just said, "Come quickly".'

'And she didn't say where?'

'No, she didn't.'

Bobby frowned, lapsing into silence for a few minutes, and Sam let him think. He stared out the window beside him at the landscapes that raced by, with little consideration for how much time was passing, when Bobby spoke at last. 'I think I know where Ruby is.'

Sam didn't even bother to ask him how he knew. 'Where?'

Bobby hesitated. 'With them.'

'With… who? The Demons?'

Bobby nodded.

'How do you-'

'Sam, I don't have all the answers myself, but things are getting very suspicious. With every move they make, the Demons are acting in accordance with an ancient ritual known as Parcaex. The Parcaex Ritual, also known as "Tria Fata", is one of the oldest and most horrific rituals known to man.'

Sam stared out the front window at the road ahead of them, which was clouded in mist. 'What exactly does this ritual do? And what does Ruby have to do with it?'

Bobby hesitated for a moment again before replying. 'The word "Parcaex" comes from the Roman God of fate, whose name was Parcae. Tria Fata means "Three Fates" from Ancient Roman mythology. I've heard so much about it, but it was always just a myth; I never considered for a second that it would, or could ever be performed. Only a demon can induce this kind of ritual, which is why it's so rare. I found traces of their plan during one of my latest hunts, and I came to find you boys right away. But by the time I had tracked you down, Dean was dead and you were in hospital, unconscious with shock.

'Sam, if they succeed in performing this ritual, it could quite possibly mean the end for all of us. The world would fall to its knees, and there would be absolutely nothing we could do to stop it. At all costs, we must stop them, before it's too late.'

Sam frowned, 'I still don't understand, please tell-'

'Sammy, I swear to you, when I know more – you will too.'

They left it at that, and sat silent once more as the Impala scouted its way through the busy streets of Blackwell, just a few miles south of the Kansas border. To pass the time, Sam replayed the last two days in his mind, attempting to pull his head into focus and catch up with everything that was going on.

Soon, he thought, soon my path will become clearer.

Inside his own mind, Sam revisited that room once more, listening to the hungry growls of the Hell Hound, the torturous screams of his brother and the cackling laughter from Lilith as Dean's soul was dragged beneath the surface of the world, never to be seen by another living being. Over and over again, he watched the scene replay in his mind, reminding him of that one dreaded Tuesday that just kept repeating, and he was forced to watch Dean die over and over again every day, stuck in a time loop induced by the Trickster.

But Sam knew that, this time, he wouldn't be waking up again. This was real, and he had to deal with it, for no matter how much he wished it to he otherwise, Dean was gone - and he was stuck here, forever to be tormented by the memory of that night.

In an attempt to put this misery from his mind, Sam switched on the radio, and, by default, onto one of Dean's favourite music stations.

"It was the Heat of the Moment, telling me what-"

Sam stared. 'Oh, you've got to be shitting me.'

"…Heat of the Moment, shone in your eyes."

Sam grumbled and switched off the radio, returning his gaze to the farmlands out his window, pouting.

'Something wrong?' Bobby asked.

'Oh, its nothing really, just a case of deja-vu versus extreme irony – Bobby, this world is trying to torment me.'

Bobby forced a laugh, 'Yes, it would seem so, wouldn't it?' The question was rhetorical. 'Don't worry, things will work themselves out soon enough.'

Sam didn't reply. He couldn't see how things could possibly improve. After losing Dean, it seemed as if he had absolutely nothing left. A feeling of emptiness and insignificance washed through his body, and it was in this moment that Sam swore to himself that he would get Dean back from Hell – whatever it took.

His first thought was the crossroads demon. Perhaps I could strike a deal?

He sighed. No, I killed the crossroads Demon months ago… I wonder how much I will come to regret that?

****

They had only been in Kansas for twenty minutes – at the southern end, whereas Lawrence is further north – and already they were aware of the absence of people. The streets were deserted, there wasn't a single car running besides their own and a deathly chill pressed against their faces, almost like a warning.

As if matters couldn't get any worse for them, the Impala engine spluttered for a moment – and then died completely.

'Damn it! ' Bobby exclaimed, slamming his fists down upon the dashboard in anger. Sam didn't say a word, and he felt as if he subconsciously knew something like this would happen.

Whilst Bobby attempted to start the engine again, Sam turned and surveyed their surroundings. There was nobody in sight, thankfully. 'Bobby, what-'

He sighed, 'It's no use, Sam. They know we're here – and as it would seem, they have us exactly where they wanted. We got careless, and now we're going to have to face the consequences.'

Knowing that their level of vulnerability would increase if they stayed within the confines of the Impala, Sam and Bobby pulled themselves out, glancing up and down the road.

After a sudden hunch, Sam quickly rounded to the back of the car and pulled open the Impala's trunk, hoping beyond hope that his hunch was wrong.

But of course, it wasn't. Bobby gasped.

The trunk was empty.

Dean's entire arsenal of weaponry had disappeared. Sam sighed, knowing what Bobby said was right. In times like this, they could always count on what Dean kept stashed beneath their car. But now, at the time they needed it most, there was not an ounce of firepower to be seen.

The two of them glanced around cautiously, paranoid that they were being watched. In that moment, they suddenly became two of the most vulnerable people on Earth.

Pulling out his cell phone, Sam cursed. 'Damn it, no reception.'

'It doesn't look like the Demons are too happy about us interrupting their plans,' Bobby assumed, 'Nor do I think that they're going to let us leave without a fight, either.'

'Kansas,' Sam laughed, 'There's no place like home.'

Pun intended =P

Thanks for reading - Review, cheers.