Totally AU, Dean came and went in the pilot, and Sam and Jess stayed home, got hitched, grew normal. Doesn't mean the demon wasn't going to come.
Thanks for the reviews. Glad people are enjoying this. Still not a particularly good idea of where this is going to end up, but its fun just taking it one step at a time.
You could say there were some spoilers in here, though they are things that happened in the series in an AU way, if that makes sense to anyone. Oh, and the stupid, line seperator thingy wasn't working for me in the editor, so sorry about the lack of speration.
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"No Dean, don't tell me to sleep. Give me some answers, NOW. Tell me Dean, was it because you were coming that she's dead? Are you the reason it came here!"
Dean's whole body slumped, defeated. He looked back up at Sam with eyes that were filled with as much pain and loss as Sam's were, unshed tears glistening beneath his badly bruised head. And he nodded his head.
Sam moved so quickly he didn't realise what he had done until there was a sharp spike of pain in his fist. It was almost an out of body experience as he watched Dean's head snap back, and blood begin to drip from his nose. Following the crack of his fist there was silence, broken only by his son's peaceful breaths.
Years and years ago, back before there was constant friction between Sam and his father, before talk of college and desertion and normal, Sam knew his brother almost better than he knew himself. He could tell if Dean was in a mood for pizza or burgers without needing to ask, knew just how far he could push his brother before bodily harm would be inflicted, knew that one smile meant 'everything's fine' and another, very similar, meant 'life sucks, love hurts, I need a hug'. He had also prided himself on his ability to tell when Dean was concealing an injury.
But now, after all those years of normal, all those years when injuries were discussed, not taboo, where hospitals were positive places of healing not institutions that would being about the separation of their family, now Sam missed the extra minute it took Dean to recover from the right hook that had only gotten slightly weaker in all those years. He failed to notice the genuine, agonised wince that crossed his brother's face as he sat back up, and the arm that was slung casually around his stomach, holding his body together.
It was an anger combined with an incompetence born of years apart that Sam missed the guilt and anguish in his brothers eyes. The expression that suggested whatever physical pain Dean was feeling at the moment was nothing compared to the self hate and devastation warring inside him over his inability to save his brothers family.
All Sam could see now, looking at the brother who for almost his whole existence had been the steadying rock in a life that was to turbid to understand, was the man who just admitted to murdering his wife.
The heated silence between them, Dean hunched and Sam glaring, was broken when Jamie awoke, his soft cries permeating the room. Sam wasn't sure why but at first the babies cries seemed just like background noise, white noise not able to be noticed above the anger and the betrayal he was feeling, which was warring with the terrible loss and grief inside him, and stopping him from functioning normally. However, when his brother stood slowly, and began to move towards the crib Sam leapt up like lightning.
"Stay away from my son" he growled, in a tone so hateful at first it didn't seem like it had come from his mouth.
Dean turned as though he had been punched again, and Sam strode towards the crib, picking up Jamie and holding him close to himself. His nappy was dirty, but there was a bag on the floor with nappies and baby food in it, apparently they had stopped at the shops on the way to the hotel room, though Sam could only vaguely recall the event. He grabbed the plastic bag savagely, and took his son into the bathroom to change the nappy.
The mindless domesticity of the task soothed him a little, as did the smiling round face of his son, and when the baby was clean he sat for an unknown amount of time just rocking him gently, trying to make himself remember that though Jess was gone he still had to be strong, be the father to his son that John Winchester had failed to be to him. When he came back out of the bathroom Dean was lying on the far bed, lost in a restless sleep, wincing as he shifted agitatedly. Sam laid Jamie back in his crib, trying to forget that the last time he had done that Jess had been by his side, singing a lullaby that he wanted more than anything in the world to hear again.
He didn't think he would sleep, but he did almost as soon as he lay down on the bed. A sleep filled with Jess, and her gentle singing, that finished with a horrific fire lit by a man that looked just like Dean, with flashing yellow eyes.
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The sun wasn't up yet when Dean awoke, but he had somehow rolled onto his ribs in the nightmarish rest had had snatched last night, and the sharp pain firing through him had pulled him awake immediately. Hissing in agony he slid carefully from the bed and hunted in his bag for a painkiller of some kind. Sam was asleep, tossing and turning, and muttering Jess's name. Dean flinched when Sam said his name, in a tone that suggested his role in the dream was not a positive one. He was tempted to wake Sam, the dream didn't sound pleasant, but from their interaction last night he didn't really think that the first face his brother wanted to see would be his.
Maybe, now that it was daylight, and Sam had gotten some rest, they would be able to talk, hopefully he would be able to explain to Sam what had happened, at least then, when he received the angry looks, the glares, the hatred, he would know the it was fully deserved, and not because of what Sam imagined his part was. They needed to leave this place soon, get out of the town, he needed to find their dad, and make sure he was ok, because when Dean had last seen him, lying on the floor of a hut with his fists clenched together, screaming to Dean to leave him, that he would hold it off as long as he could, the man had not looked so good.
Of course, Sam wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, there was a funeral to arrange, and it was important that they look after the things Sam had acquired in his time of normalcy, anything with sentimental value that could be saved. The fireman Dean has spoken to briefly last night had told them to come back the next morning, having gotten some sleep, and that he would help them out from there.
Dean wanted to see his father, needed to know he was ok, but he was fairly confident that the man would be, the demon after all had told them it wasn't interested in the old man, except to "show up his inadequacies", and Dean was fairly sure that it would have left John alive to increase his suffering. At least, he hoped feverishly that it had. He would never get back up again if he failed to save Sam's world and his father's life. That he knew for certain. But no, he was confident enough in his father's survival that he considered Sam's emotional well being the main priority at the moment. If that meant they stayed here the next few days to sort things out instead of taking off back to Colorado, then that would be what they did.
Dean had pulled himself wearily into the shower while having these thoughts, the warm water giving him a few minutes of pain relief as it massaged the purple and blue patches that seemed to cover his whole body. He emerged from the shower to find Sam sitting on the bed, Jamie in his arms trying unsuccessfully to feed his son without a high chair or bear faced baby spoon.
Their eyes met, and Sam put down the spoon (silver and therefore not acceptable to the 8 month old baby) and gently rotated his son in his arms.
Some of the anger was gone, replaced by a grief filled confusion and uncertainty that was laced with betrayal.
"I want to know what happened. Why it came. And I want to know how you were involved."
Dean paused, unsure how to begin, collecting his thoughts as he shuffled to his bed and sat down.
He leaned back and began to relate to Sam first the story of the reunion between him and John, their following of the demon attacks, and just what had happened since he and his father had walked into the trap in Colorado.
"We had found the pattern to follow the demon, and it pointed to a little down right on Colorado's western border. We arrived, and it was a typical small town, even down to the homely coffee serving woman in the diner…"
They had gone straight to the medical places in the town, Dean heading to the hospital and John to the medical clinic to find any babies whose 6 month birthday fitted into the week that they were in.
It had surprised both of them when there was only one baby with a 6 month birthday in that time period, but they had put it down to it being a small town, and prepared as quickly as they could, for the event was that night. John had armed the colt, and Dean had spent the afternoon loading various other types of ammo into weapons, not that it would kill the damn thing, as John had said, but it would hopefully slow it down for the kill shot.
It had been just after 10 when they had driven from the hotel to the house where the baby lived, little Mickey Holden the folder had said.
Perhaps their first clue should have been that the address was right on the far outreaches of the town. And if that didn't alert them, then the run down nature of the house that they were entering should have, and though Dean did mention it seemed a little suss that a family with a baby lived in that crap heap John had been caught up in the moment, in the sheer joy of thinking that finally he would be able to avenge Mary, and have a peaceful, non-alcohol induced rest for the first time in more than 20years.
They had rushed in at the first hint of tree rustling outside hoping to save the family and lay the evil to rest. It was then, when their third and final clue, the ominous slamming of the door behind them, had alerted them that all was not well, that they had acted as one, both ripping guns from their holders and twirling, scoping out the room, searching for the ambush they knew they were in.
It had struck without warning, a force like that of a moving car flinging Dean across the room and into a wall, an ominous chuckle echoing as he slipped unconscious from the impact.
Dean thought it was maybe 15 minutes later when he woke up, hearing being the first sense to return, followed quickly by pain. He listened cautiously for 30 seconds or so, but heard nothing, and so opened his eyes to see if his father was nearby. He had been attached to the wall, though how he was unsure, as there were no visible restraints, just a tightness that restricted all his movements, including his ability to breathe. The room had been as dull as when he and his father first walked in, though there was a sense of creeping cloudiness, a subtle seeping of darkness that made him feel cold, and he wondered how they could have ever believed that there was a family living in this place.
There was a figure, in the corner, and he squinted towards it, blurry vision making it difficult to make out whether it was his father, or another. It was when the man had moved that Dean recognised him, relief filling him as he realised that he was alone with his father.
"Dad? Where did it go? Are you hurt? Can you move?"
The man had turned, and what little pathetic struggling Dean had been doing was stopped instantly. It had been his father, his body, his walk, his clothes, but his eyes, they had flashed yellow as he spoke, filling Dean with a coldness that had nothing to do with the fact that he had neglected layers when he left the hotel.
"Daddy's otherwise occupied at the moment" the body had spoken, the voice so similar and yet so startlingly different to the one that Dean knew by heart.
"What have you done to him?" The anger had been there, in his voice, anger and hate propped up by confidence he didn't feel.
"I'm just, well; shall we say I'm borrowing him? I suppose that's a good term for it. Your fathers been quite a bother for my kind while I've been asleep, and I think its time for a little payback. I think killing his own son, watching one of his precious boys sink slowly before him will be a good punishment? Don't you think?"
"He'll get you. It won't matter how long it takes him, he will hunt you to the ends of the earth and then he will kill you, more slowly and painfully then you can even imagine." His tone was cold, and Dean meant every word he said, but at the same time images of the man shattered by his mothers death flashed through his mind, and he wondered if his death would leave behind as much of a shell as that of his mothers, or if he would be counted a casualty in a crusade that was bigger then his very existence.
"I wonder" the demon was talking as though he was considering toilet paper brand, using John's hand to scratch John's chin thoughtfully, "if Sammy's death would be enough to crush him beyond saving?" He had been walking across the room, to where Dean was pinned like a specimen on display, and he leaned forward, right into Dean's face. "Do you think if I used his body to slice up brother dear he would be unable to continue in this hunt of his?"
"You stay the hell away from Sammy." Dean was so angry he could hardly breathe.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that" the demon chided "Sammy's the reason behind all this. I wouldn't kill the boy I've been waiting 20 years for. I lost him that night, you stole him from right beneath me, but now, his power is just waiting to be harvested." John's body shivered slightly, "he is one of the most powerful beings I've ever touched, and I will have him."
"No, I won't use daddy's body to slice up Sammy. When I'm done here you'll be dead, this one" he gestured to his body "will be crushed, and Sammy will be mine for the taking, once I dispose of the little life that he is so comfortable in."
Sam's eyes were wide as Dean paused for a moment, breathing slowly as he collected himself. He felt an ache for his brother, knowing he could never understand just how difficult that would have been for the brother who worshipped the ground his father walked on, to have those hateful things said to him by that mans body, but sympathising with his brother. The sympathy he felt for his brother though was still far outweighed by the desire to know how his brother was involved with Jess's death. There was still anger there, and he allowed that to push through, the desire for knowledge pushing aside the part of him that wanted to allow Dean just a moment to collect his troubled thoughts.
"You still haven't answered my question." He said coldly.
Dean nodded slowly and continued.
"He, dad, um, the demon, he didn't say much else, I asked him a few questions about why he was so desperate to have you, but he didn't say anything else about it…"
"I wouldn't be so concerned about why I want little Sammy if I were you Deano" Dean had shivered as his old nickname came out in a venomous tone. "I haven't even begun with you yet."
Dean moved quickly over this part of his explanation, glossing over the more unpleasant, painful details of the next few hours he had spent with the demon. Most of the time it had taunted him, mutters that struck right to his core, comments on his relationship with Sam, with John, with Cassie. Suggestions that his need for them was far greater then their need for him. There had been mention of childhood incidents where he had found himself wronged somehow, or had been left out from the interaction between Sam and John. Dean had always believed himself to be a little on the outer of his shot-to-hell family, and the creature took that and ran with it, the taunts combining with physical blows from his own fathers hands.
It turned out the demon had underestimated John Winchester. It had allowed itself days to play with Dean, to hurt and taunt him all the while laughing at the struggling consciousness that he was sharing the body with. What it hadn't expected was, four hours into their fun, for John to begin fighting his way back, harder then anyone ever had. It had known then that it was in trouble, but, still knowing it had some time to play with, and a large capacity to inflict damage on the man who had been pursuing it for so long it had stopped its campaign of hurt against Dean, and spoken of Sam.
"I visited little Sammy just the other day you know, Dean-oMy that baby of his is getting big isn't it? Though, why it would want to grow up in the world with a name like James Dean Winchester I have no idea. Poor kid will be teased no end."
"What do you want with him? Leave him alone!" He had spoken more weakly than before, hurt ebbing into the words, but Dean was angry, not knowing what to do to keep the demon away from Sam, from the life that he loved more than his family the Dean was desperate to let him keep.
"Pretty little wife he's got there, all that billowing blonde hair. Got quite a smile on her that girl. Be a shame when he wakes up to find her in flames."
"Stay away from her."
"Do you remember what mummy looked like Deano? Did you catch a glimpse of her, up on that ceiling? I know you did, I do know everything about you after all. Can you imagine pretty Jess in her place?"
"Why do you want to do that to Sammy's family? Why do you want to hurt him so badly?"
"Because I need him distraught, I need him devastated and emotional, because that's where the power begins to take hold. When he's so lost and confused that I can step in and steer him my way. And, because daddy dearest will never forgive himself for not saving the two people who meant the most to his favourite son."
"NOOO"
John Winchester, the real John Winchester, had chosen that moment to break through the hold, Dean's invisible restrain falling away, propelling him to the ground. He broke his fall with his hands and scrambled to his father, who lay, face pinched, hands clenching and unclenching.
"Dean, hurry, I'll hold it here, inside me for as long as I can. I'll give you as much of a head start as I can. Hurry Dean! You need to get to Sam, get to him. Dean, you've got to save his family. We can't let it take them from him."
And Dean had sped form the house, ignoring the fire in his ribs, and driven his car as fast as he possibly could, faster then the Impala should have been able to physically go, with all his fingers and toes crossed, needing to get there before it did.
"I'm sorry Sammy. I tried to call, but no one picked up, and then my cell phone died; I think it must have somehow cut the connection. I'm so sorry. It's my fault, I just, wasn't fast enough."
Sam was sitting, silent on the bed, Jamie clutched in his arms.
There was a minute or so of total, oppressive silence.
And then Sam stood and came towards Dean, tears pouring down his face.
"Damnit Dean. I need to hate somebody so badly right now, and I know you think it should be you. But it's the demon. I was so angry last night, I just, I couldn't believe it. I thought I was safe. But I was an idiot for thinking that." He was at the bed, and Dean's eyes were lifting, more surprised, and hopeful than Sam had ever seen. As though the thought that Sam could actually speak to him after the recount was unthinkable.
"Dean, listen to me. It wanted me, apparently it always has. You had nothing to do with it coming for me, you did your best to stop it, and you" he choked, "you saved my son when I was to far gone to even remember I was a father. Dean, you saved my life. And, I, I don't know what kind of a life it will be without Jess, but, you've given me the chance to live, to avenge her death. To get this damn thing once and for all."
"I just, wish, Sammy, I'd give anything to have been faster."
"And Dean, I'll never forgive myself for not answering my damn phone. But she's, she's gone… And all we have now, is to get the thing that took her, and send it back to where it came from."
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Wow, that chapter took on a mind of its own. Hope it all sort of, makes sense. I dunno, I think Sam's forgiveness was a bit sappy, but, eh, it works for the story. Next chapter will be up, I dunno. Hopefully we will have a funeral and find Johnny boy in that one, before heading off after our demon buddy.