TT3TT I REEEEEEAALLY apologize for the too long of a wait on this chapter. I've been working on it here and there over the past month. I had started my online classes after applying to a new college and I have an hour long class every Tuesday and Thursday evenings, so I've been busy with schoolwork to top it off.
But I'm happy to have finally got this chapter done, and I'm a bit proud and nervous about it. I really hope you all like it! There should be one more chapter and then it'll be complete so I can then move onto a new story idea that I've had in mind and wanted to wait to start till I finished this :) I know I still need to finished Mothman and Alienated as well, and I will...eventually, I promise!
I apologize for any mistakes and/or inconsistencies.
This takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"
Supernatural: Eric Kripke
Sam shifted his attention from his unconscious sibling to the witch, his eyes blazing.
"Why did you do this to him?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, his gun-hand trembling.
"Simple," the witch stepped forward. Sam raised his gun at her, but she just smirked and rolled her eyes, continuing to approach him slowly. Clare stood next to Sam, her fur standing up straight like needles, ears flat against her skull. She was growling threateningly, wide green eyes on the witch.
"You killed my younger sister," the witch fixed an ice-cold glare on Sam, who tilted his head in confusion. A realization then hit him as he recalled John telling him about the witch he had saved Dean from months ago.
"She kidnapped and tortured my brother, of course I had to kill her," Sam spat, not missing the way the iciness of the glare turned red-hot.
The witch then smirked and shook her head. "You have a point there, Sammy,"
"It's Sam," was the hunter's immediate response.
"Whatever," the witch waved a dismissing hand with an eye-roll. "You just did what was natural when someone threatens your big brother."
"Damn straight," Sam growled in a way that was so much like Dean, he felt a surge of pride and love for him. "And looks like you'll be seeing your sister again real soon."
Sam's finger flexed on the trigger, but before he could press it, the witch swung her arm through the air and the gun suddenly flew from his grasp. With another flick of her wrist, the witch sent Sam flying. He crashed roughly into a few dusty boxes and remained lying there, motionless.
Clare mewled and ran over to him, nudging Sam's cheek with her tiny nose and pawing his closed eyes with a gentle paw. She continued crying for him, as if begging for the hunter to get up and be okay. But Sam didn't move.
The witch tilted her head, as if seeing Clare for the first time. A broad smile stretched across her face.
"Artemis, is that you?"
Clare snapped her head back to the witch when she heard the name 'Artemis'. She seemed to realize her mistake and cowered down, trying to make herself smaller as the witch approached her.
"Artemis! Why, it is you! I hardly recognized you! When I tossed you out for being an ungrateful and disobedient furball, you were just a mere, scrawny thing. Look at you now. Seems like these hunters have been taking real good care of you these past few months." The witch then crouched down, reaching out to grasp Clare by the nape of her neck, her talons digging into the soft flesh, making the kitten cry out and swipe at the witch, who just laughed and stood back up.
"I do hope that you have learned your lesson for you inferiority. I'm willing to take you back as my familiar once more. What do you say? You want to work with Cryssandra once more, don't you?"
As Clare's response, she yowled loudly and struck out again with her left paw, her claws managing to find purchase on Cryssandra's face below her right eye. Clare then drug her paw upwards, leaving three deep, bloody slashes that led up from the witch's lower eyelid, across her unfortunate open eye, and to the center of her forehead.
"Ahhh!" Cryssandra lost her purchase on Clare to clutch her wounded face. Blood seeped through her fingers. Clare dropped, landing on her feet. The little kitten then back away a few feet, arched her back and hissed.
Cryssandra growled furiously and removed her hands from her face. Blood continued to flow freely from the lacerations, her right eye swelled shut.
"You despicable little piece of crap! I gave you a chance to earn my forgiveness and THIS is how you repay me?!"
Clare stopped hissing and just backed up some more, back still arched with the fur standing up straight, her green eyes wide with fear. She licked her mouth nervously.
"You will be sorry for that." Cryssandra then reached out a hand towards the kitten and clenched her fist tightly.
Sam began to regain consciousness around this time. He was slow at first, but when a tiny, pained yelp reached his ears, his head snapped up in time to see Clare's dead body collapse onto the floor in front of him, her throat crushed.
"No!" Sam cried, his eyes transfixed on the small, motionless body before him. He quickly got up, wincing at the sharp pain in his left shoulder from where he had landed harshly on it, and crouched down behind Clare, reaching out a trembling hand. He gingerly touched her side, tears swimming in his eyes. Clare's eyes were frozen open, wide with terror, and her lower jaw hung down slightly, tongue lolling out.
Sam then looked up at Cryssandra, who bore three deep gashes across her right eye. She was smiling coldly.
"I just showed my insubordinate underling what happens to those who decide to disobey me."
"You bitch!" Sam growled, his hands clenching into fists, gripping bits of Clare's black fur, which started to dull as it lost the lustrous sheen that once gave life to it.
"Sticks and stones, Sammy." Cryssandra tsked. "You're the only one left that I have to take care of."
Sam's chest tightened at this. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his mind going to his father and friend as he risked a glance to Dean.
Cryssandra smiled coldly. "Well, you're brother is dead, and I believe your father and surrogate father are being taken care of now as we speak. And that pesky furball is no longer a cause for concern, not that she was much of a threat anyways." The witch then chuckled heartlessly and raised her hand towards Sam, a deep violet glow forming in her palm. "This is for my sister, you bastard."
A ball of crackling, angry magic flew towards Sam.
SPNSPNSPN
Bobby and John were breathing heavily from deflecting enchanted knives and china. They had a few cuts and bruises on their heads and shoulders from the attempts. The hunters had overturned the dining room table, uncaring about the extravagant arrangement of food, dishes, and an elaborate candelabra-thankfully unlit- that crashed unceremoniously onto the Persian rug, using it to shelter themselves and recuperate.
"So any brilliant ideas of how we're gonna get out of here without being shishkabobbed?" Bobby asked, opening his gun to empty out spent shells to replace them with more ammo from his breast pockets. John was doing the same thing.
"No, not unless you have a counter-spell of some sort," John winced as the two inch long cut on his forehead from a close encounter with a steak knife stung as sweat dripped into it.
"Sorry, I left my spellbook at home," Bobby responded, a tease of a smile playing across his lips. "Didn't think we'd really need it."
"Well for once, old man," John said with a small smile of his own, "you're wrong. And I have a feeling that this is just a distraction."
"Where do you think the witch is then?" Bobby asked, afraid of the answer.
"With Sam." John confirmed. "This whole revenge thing was aimed at him, after all, and I'm pretty sure that the witch wants to dish out some punishment on Sam herself."
"We have to find him, then. I doubt he's well equipped to handle a witch as strong as her by himself." Bobby said, peeking out from behind the table, drawing his head back in time to avoid getting hit by a large gray blur that shot straight past him a second later, smashing into the wall and shattering into pieces.
"You nearly got toasted by a toaster," John stated, earning an eye-roll from Bobby.
"Now I know where Dean gets his sense of humor from."
John grinned as he risked a peek around the table, expecting to see something like the microwave fly towards him. He was surprised to see that all magical activity from the kitchen had ceased. Silverware and shattered dishes littered the tile floor.
"That can't be good." Bobby said, standing up, his aging knees popping.
"The witch probably lost her hold on the magic that she placed over the kitchen," John agreed. "Bet you that's anything but good."
"Yeah, probably using all she has to kill Sammy." John's gut clenched queasily. "As stubborn as that kid is, he's probably making things difficult."
"Well, we shouldn't stand around here, doing nothing. He needs backup."
The two then cautiously approached the dining room door. Knives that they had dodged were lodged deep into the wood. John tested the handle, finding that the door opened easily. He and Bobby shared a look before leaving, heading for the hallway that Sam had been instructed to check out. They stopped in the middle, looking from the closed door on the left to the library on the right.
"Library," Bobby pointed.
"How can you be so sure?" John asked.
"Don't you ever pay attention to those old movies?" Bobby berated teasingly. "The hidden room is always in the library! And how much do you wanna bet that that's where the witch is keeping Dean?"
John chuckled. "Then let's go. My boys need our help."
SPNSPNSPN
Sam barely managed to dodge the projected ball of magic, which crashed into the far wall, exploding it in tiny shrapnels of brick. He gulped, afraid to know what would happen if that hit flesh and blood. He looked around for the gun that Cryssandra had ripped from his grasp, spotting it just ten feet to his left. His eyes shot back to Cryssandra, seeing her prepare for another attack, taking the chance to run towards his dropped weapon, using his long legs to their advantage. He dove just as another magic sphere flew over his head, hitting a wooden support beam, splintering it in half. Sam grasped the gun, spun onto his back, aimed, and then fired, the recoil jarring his aching shoulder from his earlier acrobatic act.
Cryssandra gasped as her body jerked from the impact of the bullet entering her chest and through her heart. Blood dripped from her mouth as she began to futilely gasp in lungfuls of air. Her fair, peach skin faded to a pale grey and her eyes sunk in, losing their lustrous shine and beauty. Her raven hair was stringy, wavy, and a dark, dull grey. Sam shakily got to his feet and approached her, stopping inches away from her swaying form.
"That," he spat, "was for my brother and Clare, you skank." He then reached out and pushed her. She was dead before she hit the ground with a dull thud, her skin withering and greying more, transforming her from an attractive, young woman, to a repulsive, wrinkly corpse.
Sam huffed out a breath of relief, glad to have finally brought an end to the bitch who caused his brother and family so much pain and worry for the past few days. His eyes went to Clare's dead body and then to Dean's; tears stung his eyes.
At that moment, the door to the hidden room slammed open from John Winchester's heavy booted kick and he and Bobby rushed through the doorway, calling out to Sam and Dean. They stopped as they took in the scene.
Clare's body lay on the ground, Cryssandra's corpse was a few feet away from them, and Dean's motionless form sat slumped in the chair, his magical bonds had vanished when the witch had been killed. Sam stood in the center of the room, eyes full of tears as he looked at John and Bobby before he went over to Dean.
"Oh, Sam," Bobby whispered, unsure of whether he should console the boy or let him gather himself together.
"What happened?" John asked.
"The witch is dead." Sam said then became silent as he worked to remove Dean's gag. After several seconds, he finally managed to extricate it. Sam then tossed it onto the ground and reached in with his pointer finger and thumb to grasp the cloth lodged into his brother's mouth and gently pull it out. He then placed two shaky fingers on Dean's left carotid artery. Tears fell from his eyes when he felt no pulse.
"Sam…what happened to your brother?" John asked, taking a step forward, stopping when his younger son suddenly took his brother's body into his arms, with one wrapped firmly around Dean's shoulders and the other under his knees. Dean's head rested in the crook of Sam's neck.
"We have to get him out of here, back to Bobby's." Sam said, his eyes hard yet, at the same time, soft with unshed tears. His mouth was set into a firm line, meaning that he left no room for any arguments. He stepped over Cryssandra's corpse, walked past his father and friend, then stopped in the doorway. He turned to face them. "Bobby, can you…." Sam hesitated as his eyes shifted down to Clare.
"Sure, kid. I'll wrap Clare up in my jacket and put her in the trunk. We can bury her when Dean awakes."
"But," Sam gulped. "The witch said that he was….that he…"
Bobby walked over to Sam and placed a consoling hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Boy, I've seen your brother in worse shape than this. Besides," Bobby then placed a hand on Dean's cheek. "He still feels warm."
Sam stared incredulously at his friend and then back at Dean. It was true, now that he thought about it. Dean's body still had a significant amount of warmth to it, which meant that his blood was still flowing freely, which meant that his heart….Sam mentally slapped his forehead. His hand had been trembling too much to accurately take Dean's pulse. That was why he thought he could barely feel it.
"Oh God, Bobby, I thought…" Sam sobbed, releasing his captive tears. "When the witch said that he was dead, I foolishly believed her!"
"Boy, you should know by now that any bad guys will say anything to you to get you worked up." Bobby smiled serenely.
"She…she also said that another jolt from the magic bonds Dean was tied up with would kill him, since he had been through the same torture all day. What if…"
"She was just yanking your chains, boy," Bobby assured him. "But there are other injuries on Dean that need our attention. So hurry up and get him into the Impala, wrap him in a blanket to make sure that the heat stays contained and so he doesn't go into shock. John and I will handle the witch and I'll get Clare."
"What are you planning to do with her?" Sam nodded to Cryssandra.
"Salt and burn her body to purify it," John answered. "Then the rest of the house."
Sam gaped at his father, jaw open. "You're really gonna burn down this entire building?"
"She took my son, and nearly killed my other son. And as far as I'm concerned, anyone who even thinks about laying a hand on you both is good as dead. Besides, I don't want any hooligan teenagers finding her magic books and talismans. Who knows what trouble they'd get themselves into?" John then smiled and winked at his youngest son. Sam huffed and smiled broadly, deep dimples showing.
"Now go," John then ordered. "Get your brother out of here. Bobby and I will be along shortly. See if you can patch up that bullet wound, while you're at it."
Sam nodded, acknowledging the true concern that John was finally showing him and Dean, warmed by it. "It looks like it's through and through. A simple cleanse and stitch job."
Sam then turned around and headed out.
"We should be thankful that this house is in a secluded area," Bobby said, taking a large can of fuel from his jacket and spraying it all over Cryssandra's corpse. He then handed the can over to John, who started sprinkling more all over the room as he headed over to Clare's tiny body. Bobby's heart was in his throat as he reached out and touched the kitten's side. She was cold.
"I'm sorry, girl." Bobby then gently closed Clare's eyes and took off his jacket, taking great care in wrapping the kitten up in it. He then held her as if she were a baby and headed towards the door just as John was finishing up.
"Let's go." John nodded and tilted the can so that as he followed Bobby out of the mansion, a long trail of gas leading down into the soaked basement had been left.
Sam was waiting for them inside the Impala, in the backseat. Dean was bundled tightly in two blankets and lying in his younger brother's lap, his head pillowed on Sam's shoulder.
"You got that bullet wound taken care of?" Bobby asked him through the open window.
Sam nodded. "It's patched up, for now, but I want to stitch him up at your place."
Bobby nodded, understanding. He then moved to put Clare's body into the trunk.
The two were startled as a great plume of fire suddenly erupted from the entrance of the mansion. It didn't take long for the whole building to soon be engulfed. John ran towards them.
"We better get out of here before the smoke draws attention."
"That'll be the most normal thing that's happened to us lately," Bobby chuckled, getting into the passenger seat.
John smiled as he got behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He then started the engine, which purred to life immediately.
Sam swore he felt his brother shift closer and sigh with content. He smiled and hugged him closer, kissing Dean's hairline, then resting his cheek against the spikes of Dean's gelled hair.
"You're safe now, big brother."
When John looked back at his sons in the rearview mirror an hour later, he smiled and nudged Bobby, who looked back and smiled too. Sam had fallen asleep, cradling his older brother, both arms wrapped around him protectively. Sam's head rested upon Dean's as he listed against the door. His long legs were folded up onto the seat, holding Dean's firmly and gently in place. Both boys looked at least sixteen years younger.
"I'm actually glad that you and Sam had given Dean the best childhood that he never had the chance to experience." John said quietly. Bobby looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. "God knows that I haven't been the best father to him since his was 4 years old. He was such a happy kid, got along with everyone. And his smile, it was enough to melt anyone's heart. When he beamed at you, you'd find yourself doing the same right back. And his laugh…" John paused to wipe away a tear. "I'd give anything to be able to hear it again. Bobby, I shouldn't have performed that spell on Dean. If I hadn't, he'd still be an adorable ball of energy with all his senses intact. But, I just wanted him back to normal, afraid that if I left him as he was, he'd be that way forever."
"John, you couldn't have known," Bobby said, trying to ease some of his friend's guilt that weighed down upon his shoulders.
"But I should have," John slammed a hand on the steering wheel, wincing as he heard Sam groan. He looked in the rearview mirror to see his face shift expressions and bring Dean closer to him.
"John, the point of Sam and me letting Dean remain a child was to not only wait for the spell to wear off on its own, no matter how long it took, but to also give him a second childhood. But I'm sure that the one he's experienced for those four years with you and Mary and the baby moose in her tummy was just as great. I didn't know Mary, but I know that she was the best thing that could happen to you. Then when you found out that you were gonna be a father, well, I can only imagine how much more excited you'd become."
John laughed softly, his mind going back to the day that Mary had told him that she was pregnant with Dean and how he had just scooped her up into his arms and kissed her, doing the same thing four years later.
"I don't agree with raising your children as soldiers for the past fifteen years, but I know that they wouldn't want anyone else as their father. In fact, this hunting life may have created the most cherishable and unbreakable bond between them than I've ever seen with any other siblings. Those boys would die for each other, and I think this whole incident was enough to prove that. So, in my opinion, you did right, John Winchester."
Bobby then patted the eldest Winchester on the back and smiled warmly at him, which was returned along with teary eyes.
"Dammit, Bobby. We just had a chick-flick moment. I'm glad the boys are asleep."
"As far as you knew," a soft reply came from the backseat. Bobby and John looked back into the rearview mirror and saw Sam still asleep, but a wide grin was on his face this time.
Bobby and John laughed; the air in the Impala was less tense and had a light atmosphere. Things were going to be alright now. But for the time being, they were going to swore off any other hunts that involved witches and black magic, just to be safe.
I didn't like killing Clare, I really didn't. I had actually stopped typing and cuddled my cat, who I consider my baby, Reddy for awhile. He didn't like it, but I needed something to snuggle for a bit while I get over the fact that I did, indeed, kill an animal in my story ;n;
TBC...