Part 3 Chapter 10
Dean was never sure if he saw the flash of silver that split the air and embedded itself into Sam's back. The only thing he remembered was the horrific scream that erupted from Sam's lips as he was enveloped by a white light, orange flashes illuminating under his skin as he tried to reach behind him to remove the cause of the excruciating pain.
Dean screamed in time with Sam as if he too had been stabbed. He slowly made his way over to Sam and as Sam went limp, Dean held him just as he had one year ago, screaming his anger and denial out to the heavens. When Jack crawled to his side, trying to help, Dean jerked Sam's wilted body away angrily. "No! You killed him! Don't you touch him, you bastard."
Jack tried to ignore the barbs flung at him by Dean. He knew it was the inconsolable pain but he still reeled back as if Dean had struck him. Suddenly, Bobby was there, just on the other side of Dean, gently trying to pry Sam from him.
Dean refused help as he tried to pull the knives out of Sam's back but Bobby stopped him, roughly taking Dean's head in his hands. "Boy! Dean! You have to let him go. We can't help him if you don't let him go."
"What?" Dean asked, Bobby's words making no sense to him.
"We can save him but you've got to let go." Suddenly Dean noticed Jack trying to drag his arms away and Dean pulled himself back, as much to avoid Jack's touch as it was to follow Bobby's instructions.
Bobby gently turned Sam over onto his stomach and pulled Ruby's knife from high in Sam's shoulder. Quickly, he moved to staunch the blood with some rags he pulled from a bag Dean hadn't even noticed he was carrying. Bobby pulled out the grimoire and placed in on the ground, flipping it open to the marked page.
"Jack, come here." Bobby called. When Jack moved, Dean snapped out of his stupor and rounded on Jack. "No, he doesn't touch him – ever." Dean spat out with anger.
"Dean, if you want to save Sam, you're going to have to trust me. I need Jack." Bobby's voice pleaded.
Dean hesitated a moment, feelings of rage warring to get out as he stared at his youngest brother, bloody and tired, looking as if he had lost his best friend – which Dean knew was true. He would never forgive him.
Dean slowly moved out of the way and Jack made his way warily to Bobby's side. Handing Jack Ruby's knife, Bobby asked, "You know what to do?"
"Yeah," Jack mumbled. Taking a deep breath, Jack drew the blade down the curve between his forefinger and thumb. Not looking up, he held out his hand for Dean's.
"Dean, we don't have much time," Bobby said quietly prompted.
Dean relented, barely containing his anger, as Jack grasped his hand and drew the same bloody line down between the finger and thumb. Jack then threw down the knife and gently placed Dean's hand around the hilt of the athame. He then placed his own hand in a mirror reflection around the blade and watched, fascinated as his blood mixed with Dean's and then Sam's.
Slowly, Bobby began to chant.
Rath De'ort
Casherickee et Cuinnsear
A haron, a Do, a tri dearthair mesneach chroi
An chlann laidir, unnaneyssit a fuil
Sherrey er seun gan diabhal
Giooteyder er basse as bea
Leigeil an anam - an aaharoggal dilseacht dearthair
Ni gheobhadh an bas an ceann is fearr ort
Go siorai, mo chroi duidh dia
"What language is that?" Dean asked as the musical words wound their way through the air like a living thing.
"Celtic." Jack answered with his head bowed and eyes closed, a look of concentration on his face.
Slowly the knife began to rise out of Sam's body and as it hovered over the wound, Dean watched fascinated, with hope, as the wound slowly closed and Sam took a giant gulping breathe – as if he had been under water.
At the sound of his brother breathing, Jack released Dean's hand, snatched the knife out of mid air, falling back and panting as though he had run a marathon. Gently, Dean rolled Sam over and looked into his bruised face.
"Sammy? Hey, wake up and bitch at me or something." Dean said quietly, rubbing Sam's face with the hand that wasn't bleeding.
Slowly Sam's blue-green eyes opened, clouded by confusion. "Dean?" he whispered hoarsely. "What happened?"
"Nothing the Winchester boys couldn't handle," Dean replied, relief and joy making his voice crack. "How do you feel?"
Sam slowly tried to get up and a wince and gasp of pain erupted when the knife wound in his shoulder stopped him.
"Easy. Just take it easy." Dean pushed him back down. "You got poked but you'll be fine once we stitch it up."
A shadow fell over Sam's face and Dean looked up to see Jack's worried expression as he peered down at the middle brother.
Sam squinted as he looked up into Jack's face. "Jack?" Sam wheezed. "You okay?"
Quietly, Jack whispered, "Christo." When Sam showed no sign of having heard, Jack took a long shaky breath and said, "yeah big brother, I'm fine."
Seeing what was coming, Dean moved around Sam, never losing physical contact. He pulled his youngest brother to him as Jack broke down in relieved sobs and gently rubbed his back as he grasped Sam's forearm hard. They stayed like that for quite a while.
Incredibly Rough Translation:
The grace of God be with us
Consecrate this dagger
One, two, three brothers with courageous hearts
A family strong, united in blood
We ask for magical preservation with out evil
Giver of life and death
Free the soul and resurrect this faithful brother
So that death will not still vanquish him.
Forever, my heart beseeches you, God.