What Should Have Never Been Pt 5
Author: Linda Atkinson
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: FRT
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, OCs
Warnings: Completely AU after What Is and What Should Never Be, some rough language, violence, angst, Drug-use, abuse, Evil Sam(maybe).
Summary: Dean is so shaken by events in What Is and What Should Have Been that he makes a deal with the cross-roads demon to change the past so that his father doesn't become a hunter and ends up in an alternate world where things are radically different, except that he alone can remember the original time-line.
The house was less than impressive, and Dean wondered, briefly, if he had made a wrong turn. But the porch light was on and he could see a middle-aged man standing on the stoop. The shot gun that hung by his side marked him, that and the haunted, wary look in his eyes. Dean was becoming far too familiar with that look, every time he glanced at his father's face, every time he looked in the mirror.
Pulling the Impala into a spot on the side of the driveway he killed the engine. John glanced over at his son, offering him a minute shrug. Dean nodded. He got out of the car slowly trying to remember that this Bobby didn't know him, had never met them before. Bobby walked a few steps away from the house looking back and forth between the two men.
"You the Winchesters?" he asked stiffly. And when John nodded he relaxed ever so slightly motioning them forward. "Come on inside, sit a bit."
When they were gathered around the kitchen table Bobby handed them cups of coffee. John inhaled the rich, warm scent, bringing the cup to his lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the heat on his parched throat. Dean smiled, here or there, his Dad loved his coffee. He took a sip and watched as the other man relaxed even more visibly, even going so far as to prop the shot gun on the wall beside the table. Bobby poured himself a cup and sat back.
"Jim Murphy said you fellas were looking for a demon."
John nodded. "Killed my wife and took my son and granddaughter. We want them back."
Bobby's chest heaved in a long drawn-out sigh, but he motioned the two men towards the high piles of books on the table. By the time midnight had come and gone John had read more about demons than he ever wanted to read. Half way through one book he had lurched to his feet, and fled to the bathroom. Dean leaned against the wall outside the door listening to his father retch. A cold shiver crept along Dean's spine and once again he felt as if he had done John a serious injustice by bringing him into all this. But, considering what his father's life had been before he couldn't summon the strength of character to be truly sorry.
When John had settled back at the table looking pale and washed-out Bobby shoved a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels across the table and a tall glass. John picked up the bottle and chugged a gulp, letting the whiskey dribble down his chin a bit. Dean looked at his father wincing.
"Ah, Dad, that might go down a little better with some ice."
John fished a few half-melted chips out of the bowl of ice on the table and slapped them down the neck of the bottle before up-ending it again. Closing his eyes John nodded.
"You're right, that is better."
Bobby watched as John settled himself down, and then pointed to the passage in the book John was reading. With a shrug he motioned to a black-line drawing.
"Actually, killing a demon is harder than hell, no pun intended. The best that most of us actually do is exorcising the thing out of its human host. Some demons actually can manifest a human form, but only the big league ones. Most of them possess a person or an animal. As long as the demon is inside the host the body functions, even if the host body is dead. That's why hunters burn their dead. Keeps something from moving into the dead body and using it again. How do you plan on taking out the demon?"
John cast a sideways glance at his son who merely offered him a minute shrug in return. Finally the elder Winchester rose going back out into the living room. He carried a cloth wrapped bundle into the kitchen placing it reverently on the wood-topped table. Bobby tugged the cloth back revealing a wooden box. He whistled appreciatively when he opened the box and saw the gleaming metal barrel of the antique Colt revolver.
"Is this the gun?"
Nodding John touched the box.
"Made by Samuel Colt himself, on the same night as the Alamo fell. It's blessed and we have four bullets left. We ended up using two on vampires and two on demons, but truthfully we only need the one."
Bobby nodded.
"I'm going to loan you a couple of books, one of them has a spell in it to summon a demon. It might make getting the bastard easier, but I can't do anything about helping you find your son and grandkid."
As it turned out Bobby didn't actually have to do anything to help them find Sam. Ellen Harvelle called John's cell phone the next day leaving him a message that a tall, young man with a baby had been through the Roadhouse and nearly killed her daughter.
Dean lay on his belly, propped on both elbows staring at the house through binoculars. He could see the tall, dark clad form of the hunter stalking through the door. The guy's name was Gordon Walker, and he had Sam and Annie inside. John was pissed off and he hadn't been the least bit hesitant about telling Ellen Harvelle what he thought of her putting the guy on Sam in the first place. But if it was true that Sam was possessed and had tried to kill Bill and Ellen's daughter Dean wasn't surprised.
His father was on the opposite side of the house, covering the rear door. Dean patted his pocket feeling for his cell phone. In the short time that he and John had been hunting this was the first time they had separated, but this Gordon was a badass son of a bitch and Dean knew that they had to be extremely careful how they handled him.
Finally though, Gordon let his guard down enough to abandon his vigil at the window and slip back inside the room. Dean rose quickly and silently, slid down the hill toward the front door. He was muttering under his breath to himself counting off the seconds so that he would hit the door at the same time his father kicked in the back door. The two of them together should be able to subdue Walker without too much trouble.
The front door caromed off the wall with a loud bang. Dean could see a sliver of light at the rear of the house where John had kicked in the door. The sound of heavy footfalls heralded his father's approach and Dean whirled just in time to deflect the wooden axe handle descending toward his head at lightening speed.
Gordon followed the downswing with a quick upper cut and Dean was hard pressed to dodge the blow. As it was he was just a few seconds too late and the axe handle scraped a raw gouge across his side. Hissing in pain he lashed out, booted foot catching the other hunter in the knee. The other man went down hard.
By that time John was in the room gun drawn and he pressed the barrel of the Glock he carried against the younger man's temple, and all the fight went out of him. Gordon sagged against the wall dropping the axe. He glared up at the two men then a smile crept across his dark features.
"You the Winchesters? Heard about you. What do you guys want with a penny ante little possessed white boy anyway?"
John dug the end of the gun barrel into the other hunter's neck making him wince.
"That penny ante little white boy is my son? Where's the baby?"
"She's safe. I've been feeding her baby formula with holy water in it. So I know she's no demon. You want the baby; I'll get her for you, but the demon boy, he's mine."
Dean grinned down at the man huddled on the floor at his feet.
"You go get the baby."
John shot him a look but a raised brow from Dean kept him quiet. Gordon rose smoothly but John intercepted him.
"You just tell me where the baby is. I'll get her."
Gordon jerked his chin toward the back room, and John hurried down the hall. His breath hitched in a sigh of relief as he saw Annie on the single bed in the small room. Her car seat was placed on the floor but she was laying on a blanket. She looked clean and well cared for, so at least the other hunter had been telling the truth about that.
A whisper of wind rattled the window screen and John paused. Leveling the gun at chest height he walked past the bed to the small window set in the center of the wall. A figure rose up suddenly, dark, vaguely man shaped and John almost shouted as it whirled, glowing yellow eyes dancing with mirth.
Dean motioned Gordon into a chair at the wood table in the corner of the room. With quick economical movements he tied the hunter's hands behind his back then secured his arms and feet to the wood frame. Once he was sure that he had Gordon bound Dean turned to the figure slumped in a second chair.
Kneeling Dean checked the ropes binding his brother's hands. He dropped the bag he was holding pawing through it for the flask of holy water and a book of prayers. Sam stirred head snapping up as the first few drops of holy water struck his cheek. A thin curl of steam rose in the air and Sam hissed in pain.
"Dean, let me go," Sam cried.
Dean smiled at him glancing at the hallway for his father. What was taking so long? Dean half rose from his crouch and shouted for his father to hurry.
"Dad, get a move on. We need to get this done."
John appeared at the door with a diaper bag slung over one shoulder and the baby tucked into her car seat. He carefully sat the plastic carrier on the floor shrugging apologetically at his older son.
"Sorry," he said, motioning to the baby. "I had to get her in the carrier."
Nodding Dean handed the flask to John watching as the holy water splattered out and soaked his shirt sleeve. John frowned.
"Don't waste it."
The exorcism went quickly, with Sam cursing and screaming the entire time. Dean kept the prayer up even when John looked pale-faced and shaken. Gordon watched from his chair tossing threats at the Winchesters as often as Sam's screaming quieted. Finally, the younger Winchester brother tipped his head back as an oily black cloud gushed out of his mouth. He collapsed against the chair back, eyes closed.
John carried the baby out to the Impala while Dean leaned Sam across his shoulder. Once they were settled he went back inside stabbing a knife into the chair arm beside Gordon's hand. Glaring coldly at the other man he snarled,
"I'm leaving the knife so that you can free yourself. If you come after me or my family again I'll leave the knife in your heart, got it."
Gordon smiled painfully tight then licked his lips.
"You can't fight it Dean. Sammy'll turn again. And you'll be the one calling me for help."
Dean smirked.
"Winchesters take care of their own. Whatever way we have to. That's not a call for you or any other hunter to make."
The car sped down the road with John huddled in the back rocking Annie's carrier. He glanced up at the back of Dean's head and then over at Sam slumped against the door.
"Dean, we need to find a place for your brother to rest for a little while. I saw a sign for a camp ground. I'm willing to bet they have a cabin or something we can rent for the night. We'll rest, get something to eat. Check over our weapons and supplies."
A faint scowl crossed Dean's face. John never mentioned the weapons unless he had to, but he was right. They were all exhausted and Sammy and the baby needed to be fed. He signaled the turn and the car bumped over the rutted road. The office to the camping area was a small wood beam building and he could see several other cabins along the road. John hustled out of the car and into the building returning a few minutes later with a key.
Leaning against the side of the car he tossed the key to Dean.
"Down the road, last building on the right."
The cabin was sparsely furnished and barely lit with a single overhead fixture. John carried Annie into the room and placed her carrier on the table. He watched as Dean hauled Sam into the room, and dumped a duffle bag containing their weapons on the table beside the baby. Carefully he rummaged through the bag pulling the Colt out and laying it on the table. Dean turned watching his father turn the gun over in his hands stoking the wooden hilt.
"Dad," Dean whispered. "Are you okay?"
Suddenly John drew a deep breath and smiled. Sam pulled himself upright moving toward the table. With a vicious glare John's head snapped around and Sam found himself slammed back against the wall. A grimace twisted his features and he struggled futilely trying to free himself.
"Dad, for God's sake what's wrong?" Dean gasped, then he was spinning across the room, back slammed against the opposite wall, shoulders pinned by unseen bonds. He groaned as he watched his father retrieve the gun then grin. John looked up, his eyes flashing yellow in the dim light.
"I can't tell you what a pain in the ass this thing has been," John said, his voice as thick and sweet as molasses on a cold morning. Grinning he spun the gun around watching as the metal glinted in the pale overhead light.
"This is so sweet. I could have killed you both at the house, killed that bastard Gordon too, but the ride over here. You not knowing what was coming, that was worth the wait. You boys had a good run, but you got in way over your head. I missed my shot with Sammy-boy but I've still got little Annie. It may put my timetable back a few years, humans grow so slowly, but eighteen years in the cosmic scene, it's nothin'."
John's big, long fingered hand trailed over the baby's soft cheek. She twitched once in her sleep but lay still. Sam jerked against the wall voice breaking with fury.
"Get your goddamn hands off my daughter."
"Or you'll do what? Shoot me. That would be a good trick."
John's hand slid the Colt closer to Sam.
"Go ahead make the gun float to you…Oh, I forgot, Dean took your psychic powers away. What a good big brother, no more visions but no more telekinesis either."
John's body virtually slid across the rough plank floor until he was chest to chest with Dean. He leaned forward closing the distance, invading Dean's personal space.
"Was getting Daddy back worth all this, Deano?"
"But the holy water splash you, back at the house," Dean gasped. John shuddered, walking toward the wall.
"You think something like that works on something like me?"
"I swear to God I'll kill you…"
John smiled.
"God's got nothin' to do with this."
John eased forward cocking his head again.
"You know what Deano…you came into this thinking that poor Johnny was so abused and mistreated but let me let you in on a little secret, in this timeline Johnny wasn't just in that mental institution because of the demon thing. See Johnny here has been a couple of french fries short of a Happy Meal a long damn time. I didn't have to slice Mommy open; I just disposed of the body. Didja know that Deano? Not everything Daddy killed in Vietnam was VC. A couple of those vampires in Colorado? Well, you should have checked them for a pulse before you let Johnny lop off their heads."
"My father wasn't a murderer," Dean cried out.
John smiled again licking his lips.
"Your Daddy wasn't…but this Johnny, you really should have thought about how screwing with fate can come back and bite you on the ass."
Dean cringed as the demon in John stepped forward again. He laughed, a low, dirty sound that chilled Dean to the bone.
"You know what? Johnny's in here with me. Trapped in his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way…He's going to rip you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood, and he'll love every minute of it."
Dean groaned as John raised a hand, sliding his palm over the younger man's chest. Blood bubbled on Dean's lips and he cringed.
"Dad, don't you let him kill me."
John staggered back gasping, his head hung in shame. Suddenly Sam dropped to the ground landing with a thud. John whirled and Dean slipped down to the floor lying on this side, blood staining the rough planking beneath his still form.
"Sammy, I can't hold him. Tell Dean that what it said wasn't true. I didn't do all those things. Please…"
Sam rolled to his feet staggering to the table. John turned, eyes flashing yellow again, but before he could move Sam grabbed the Colt bringing it up. The shot rang out catching John in the thigh; blood splattered the wall above Dean. John dropped heavily to the floor. His head pitched back and he screamed as a thick black cloud ripped its way out of his body.
Moaning John rolled to his feet.
"Sammy get your brother. We need to get out of here before it comes back."
Quickly Sam jammed the gun into the waistband of his jeans and gathered his brother off the floor. John stumbled but managed to limp to the table and pick up the baby's carrier.
John watched as Sam opened the rear door and shoved Dean inside. John stumbled around the car and slid Annie's car seat inside; he climbed in the passenger side door waiting while Sam slid behind the wheel.
John moaned, lying on hand on the baby. She wailed frightened by the sudden increase in speed. John cast a glance at the rear seat; Dean was huddled against the door. He patted Annie's cheek trying to soothe her cries. Nodding over at Sam John motioned to the gun in his jeans.
"We can start over. We can find the demon again. We still have the gun and we have one bullet. If I have to I'll cut this one out of my leg, I'll do it. But we'll get him."
Sam gasped.
"Dad the hospital is about ten miles we'll make it." Glancing in the rearview mirror himself he smiled wanly at his brother. "Just hold on Dean…"
Before he could process another thought a shadow fell over the car. The sound of metal shrieking filled the air, and the steering wheel jerked in Sam's hand as a semi-truck plowed into the passenger cabin of the car. John was slammed back against the door and Sam's head contacted with the seat back. He made a grab for the handle of the car seat as Annie's screams filled the car.
The nose of the truck's cab slid under the chassis of the Impala carrying the car across the lanes of the road and into ditch. The car rode the truck's cab, until the larger vehicle bumped up against a culvert and the car spun off the cab slewing around to come to rest on the down slope of a light hill. The trucker sat behind the wheel his eyes vacant and staring into nothing.
The sound of a loud engine roused Sam, and he jerked against the hands restraining him. A paramedic was fastening a neck brace around him and he tried to push her away.
"Sir," she shouted above the sounds of the helicopter rising into the air. "You've got to be still."
"My family," Sam screamed, "My daughter and my father and brother…where are they. I need to know if they're still alive."
Sam stood looking down at his father in the hospital bed. The sight really should not have disturbed him as much as it did. He'd seen John confined most of his life. Still, knowing that his father was in that bed because Sam had shot him was horrifying.
He really didn't understand what was happening. Sam had led a sheltered life, first with his aunt and uncle and then in the closed academic community of Stanford. Jessica's death had been almost too much of a burden for him to bear so soon after Annie's birth, and then meeting and marrying Sara. The very idea that he was one of these demons that his father had raved about for as long as Sam could remember was a shock. He had taken control of his father's medical care as soon as he became an adult, and Sam had been the one to authorize the electric shock therapy. Sam had demanded Dean beat John to keep him in control. For years he had tortured his father for nothing. All that crap that Dad screamed about demons, vampires and ghosts. It was all true.
Finally John looked up at his younger son. John had been pushed so far into despair by Dean's injuries that he thought he might not be able to recover. But Sam looked like he was doing so much worse; of course, his younger son had lost a wife and was losing a child. John could well understand that pain.
Weakly he sighed rasping out a few words. "Sammy I don't want to fight anymore…"
"Neither do I, Dad," Sam said quietly. "I needed to ask you something. You and Dean, you understand what's going on? You know about these things…how?"
"Dean has books in his duffle bag; he has a book we got from Bobby Singer on exorcisms and demonology. There's even a spell in there for summoning a demon to make a deal. It's how this Dean got here."
Sam seized on that phrase turning it over in his mind.
"This Dean? What do you mean, Dad?"
John drew a deep breath.
"This life we're living, it wasn't this way before. Dean told me he made a deal with the demon to change what happened. I think I died, but he would never tell me that for sure. He wanted you to have the life you deserved Sammy. I guess that didn't happen where he was from. So he changed things for us, but he still remembered the way it was before. He just wanted it to be better."
Nodding Sam sat down on the side of John's bed.
"So you can change things? In this other life was I possessed or a demon or whatever?"
"I think so; Dean seemed to lean that way."
"But you and him, you hunted and killed these things all the time. You knew how to get rid of this yellow-eyed bastard for good?"
"I think so, but here I don't know what to do. Dean does but he's dying Sammy. And so is Annie."
"But in the other life I didn't marry Sara, didn't have Annie?'
Shaking his head John looked away.
"No. You never married."
"Get some rest Dad. I'm going to go check on Dean."
The pale figure in a ragged bloody shirt slipped quietly out of the hospital room, casting a final glance over his shoulder. He couldn't help them, didn't have the knowledge. Clearly Dean believed and therefore he could go on, do what needed to be done, except Dean was dying. Annie was laying in the hospital pediatrics intensive care unit and would be dead by morning. It was all too much. It would have been better if she had never been born. And there was one way to do that. He just hoped he had the strength of character to do what he needed to do, because they could go on without him. They could finish it. He didn't know if things would go back to exactly the way they had been, before…but he would try.
Of the three Winchester men he was the weak link, clearly unable to deal with the demons. He couldn't be trusted. The others would be stronger without him. Carefully, he lowered the duffle bag he had taken from the closet and began sketching out a symbol he had seen on the pages of the books in Dean's bag. The chalk was vivid white against the dirty gray cement of the floor. It didn't take long.
The candles were lit, guttering when the room was swept by a cold wind. The pages of the book at his feet slapped closed and he sighed. Let it happen. With a shudder he smiled faintly when the short, sandy-haired man appeared only a little taken aback by the glint in his glowing yellow eyes. He smiled.
"I'm kinda surprised to see you here. I thought you Winchesters were all done with this. A new life and all that."
"Just cut the crap, can you heal Dean? Make it so that he lives."
The demon grinned.
"I suppose anything is possible. You just giving up after all Dean did to give you the life you deserved?"
"I can't help them. I can't do this, I don't have the strength. But you can make it like it was before Dean made that deal. You can change it so that they can go on; go back to being like they were, before. Give them back the life they had."
"I can, but what do I get in return? I mean things are better off for me with you boys all out of the picture. If I change this then I will have them on my tail again. So what have you got to offer?"
The Colt appeared from under the faded gray shirt.
"I've got this. I know it's important."
"Oh you're gonna have to do better than that my friend."
With a pained smile he sighed nodding.
"Okay I want to make a deal."
The two men stood beside the grave, watching as the pyre burned down to dull embers. The pale sparks were far too simple for the task they had accomplished. Dean stood silently struggling with his tears, refusing to allow weakness to overtake him. The taller figure beside him was not hampered by false bravado, he wept freely, unashamed of grieving his loss.
When the last of the embers had faded to a dull gray, the two men grabbed shovels and worked back to back quickly and efficiently filling in the grave. It didn't take as long to cover the charred remains. The men hurried by a desire to leave this place, to go together to a hotel and yet remain alone in their grief, worked far more quickly covering the grave than they had opening it.
As the last particles of raw earth were tamped into the pit the taller of the two men staggered back hands clasped to his head, drawing in ragged uneven breaths. Dean leaned down grasping the other man by the shoulders.
"You okay?" he hissed, breath leaving a faint white wisp of vapor in the cold night air. A pained grunt was all the response he got. Frowning Dean bent down wrestling the larger man to his feet.
"Vision?"
The nod was tight but the vibration ran through the bent man's frame and Dean hissed again in displeasure.
"We need to get out of here, get back to the car. Can you walk?"
Carefully Dean shoved his arm under the taller figure's armpit, levering him to his feet.
"Come on. We need to move, Dad."
The End