Dawn – chpt 18

by sifi.

--

"Hey... easy... easy..." Sam moved quickly, sliding his arm behind Dean's back, scooping him into an upright position on the couch while the elder hunter blinked himself back to the world his body inhabited.

"You okay?" he asked, holding his bottle of beer at his big brothers' mouth.

"Mmm," Dean nodded swigging down the brew.

"Dean what happened? What did he do to you?" he asked looking from the small warrior who lay curled at Laura's side, up into his brothers' glazed expression.

Dean shook his head, "Mmm I...I don't..." he looked around, "Sammy?"

The young hunter grasped his big brother by the face, angling his gaze up to his own eyes, "Dean... look at me."

He watched the older man's eyes focus slowly on his own.

"Dean tell me what you've seen..."

"Mmm..." he half smiled then frowned, "Mmm my son..." he scrubbed his face with his palms, "He is reborn..." he whispered as blood dripped from his nose down over his lips, "He has reached maturity... you are not ready..." he grasped Sam by the face and pressed their foreheads together, "You will be... this I swear my son..." his eyes fell to the TV tray Sam had been working at, trying to decipher still more of whatever it was that Dean had written while in the grasp of this ancient deity.

"Enki..." Sam spoke.

"Son?" Dean's hand caressed his face.

"My brother can't survive you... you're killing him... every time you use him it hurts him..." he frowned feeling his eyes skip the misting part and moving right into the tearing.

His hand slid to the back of Sam's head, drawing him close, "As long as you survive so shall we," he whispered conspiratorially.

"But at what price! Every time you make an appearance you take a little more of my brother from me! I NEED HIM!" Sam half hollered through clenched teeth while grasping that face he knew so well.

Dean's casted hand reached out for the notebook, his right hand took the pen.

"Magnificent..." he smiled tracing the vertical lines of cuneiform on the pad.

"Ahh..." he smiled drawing a line separating columns before running a dark "X" through the writing on the left. He turned the piece of paper and seemed to read through the second half, "This will help... but your road is long and hard ahead... and my brother's son is on the move... when he comes you will be ready," his hand cupped Sam's cheek while his face shone with affection.

Sam shook his head and fought hard against the burning desperation in his heart and belly, "I don't know what I'm doing!" he confided urgently, "I don't know how to fight this thing... God why'd it have to come NOW?" he shook his head, his conscience agonized.

"Because now is when it came," the deity used his brother to shrug as the droplets from his nose became a small stream. His finger swept at the blood, "How did we become so fragile?"

Sam shook his head unable to hold back the ribbons from his eyes, "It's too big... Please... you're going to kill him...don't take him from me... I need him..."

"She who roared and smote in the chaos of creation... awaken her... she is the keeper," he said as breath came short in Dean's chest and flecks of blood peppered his lips and concern bent his brows, "My son... you WILL do what you must..." Dean's eyes grew wide as a sudden cough sputtered out a stream of thick viscous red. His arm reached forward, his hand grasping Sam at the joining of the neck and shoulder, "Remember who you are. My boy... My king..." Dean's body fell forward against Sam, thick ropes of blood running from his nose and mouth, his chest vibrating with wheezes even as his breath tried to come fuller.

"God Dean..." Sam choked maneuvering his brother so that he lay on his side on the couch.

"Sam?" her voice asked softly as she padded into the living room, "Sam what's wrong?"

The youngest Winchester, when all he wanted to do was lay his head on his big brothers' chest and listen to his heart beat, feeling the breath moving through his body; sniffed and looked over his shoulder, "Nothing Mercy... it's okay."

But it was too late, she was at his side, her mouth turned down in a sharp frown, "Okay? Is this what you call okay? He's hemorrhaging Sam!... What the hell's going on here!" she barked, sweeping her finger through Dean's mouth to make sure there was no obstruction.

Sam shook his head, "It's over... it's done... he'll recover..."

"It's that THING isn't it?" she asked angrily.

"It spoke through him again didn't it?" she surmised and huffed, "Damnit Sam! That thing's gonna kill him! He's your brother for Pete's sake! Don't you give a damn..."

"Don't!" he warned in a low voice, his red and bleary eyes fixed on his brother, "Don't you even begin to think you understand what's happening here..."

"Well then explain it to me Sam! C'Mon! We used to be friends..." she insisted.

"We are," Sam nodded, "But you will NEVER know what we've..." he shook his head turning to look her in the eyes, "be grateful," he sniffed, turning back to his brother and began to wipe the streamlets of blood from his face as Dean's chest began to spasm and a wrenching bark moved out his throat. His eyes fluttered open as his body started to rock in time with the wrenching.

"Dean?" Heal, please Dean... breathe, heal... he closed his eyes, rest and heal... the image of an easy glow of energy between them flowed through his mind.

On the couch his brother gasped, his fingers clutched Sam's shirt as the younger man wrapped his arm around Dean's back, scooting him forward while Mercy slid a garbage can under his head. When the stream of red and yellow coursed out it left the eldest of John's boys pale, waxy, and trembling, but at least without the frightening rattling in his chest

"There you go... good man," Sam breathed a hasty prayer of thanks that he would have his brother back.

"...aaam..." Dean groaned weakly, his hand flopping up then falling back to the couch almost as quickly.

"I'm here Dean... I got'cha... I'm here..." he smiled softly.

Dean's pale lips twisted in a faint smile, "mmm .." before his breathing leveled out and he passed into sleep.

--

Before her, rising impossibly high into the black and orange sky stood the first of seven gates she was destined to once again pass through. On either side of the gate stood a guard, each of them, one of Ereshkegal's elite. I don't want to be here, she knew and if she'd had a body, her belly would have quivered with uneasiness while her heart hammered. I know what's going to come... I'm not ready yet... she felt fear as each of the guards stepped forward with a taloned hand extended their cold onyx eyes piercing out from their avian heads.

Slowly she drew the bronze cuffs from her wrists, placing one in each of the guards' hands. As they drew back to their posts the four story obsidian gates swung soundlessly inward allowing her passage.

Please don't make me go in there... but her feet refused to listen as they carried her along the black-plated, limned with orange stony ground, I can't go through that seventh gate... I can't go through it, if I do I'll never get out of here... Ereshkegal will have my soul shredded to the winds. Looking down she checked her raiment's; Wrist cuffs, gone. Arm bands next, then the necklace, sandals, breast plate, leather armor, and finally the skirt at the seventh gate, then I will be naked, and doomed.

Far ahead of her, and yet still too near to be a comfort, the second set of gates leading into the queen of the Underworld's domain beckoned, and she headed toward them exactly as had her own original deity.

--

"C'mon Dean," Mercy sat beside him, mopping his forehead with a cool cloth, her eyes drinking in the lines of his face, reading how time has marked him thus far, from the glittering few grays in his hair to the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes.

"What happened to you baby... how did you let someone hurt you like this?" she wondered softly while in the other bed Sam's deep and even breathing, peppered with the occasional grunt sounded hypnotically through the room. How did you guys fall so far so fast? her eyes slid out into the living room where the sidhe warriors were guarding the corpse, now on the couch, Did you have something to do with this? How much of what Tamara's heard is true? What kind of curse did you bring down on these boys? Wasn't it enough, everything they've already been through? Everything they've lost? You gotta bring down some ancient curse on them? Put them in harms' way? Why? What's your angle? she wondered, If you had anything to do with what's happening here, so help me God you're better off dead than to come back.

"You should've stayed with me after those zombie biker ghosts, I never would've let anyone hurt you," she caressed Dean's face and pressed her lips to his, "Open those eyes for me lover, c'mon..."

On the floor beside the couch Ajax whimpered in his sleep, and a small, strong, calloused hand stroked his chest while his eyes narrowed and his mouth frowned for the angry energies coming from the Champion and Chosen's room.

--

"Mmm?" Dean's arm closed around the warm curves beside him and a smile touched his lips as tiny movements worked to start him stretching from the toes up, he drew a deep breath and frowned faintly in his sleep as a different scent than the one he was expecting filled the back of his sinuses, Well that's not right... he thought vaguely before drifting back down.

Mercy felt his arm tighten around her and smiled just before a hard poke hit the bottom of her foot.

She cracked her eyes open to find a scowling and apparently somewhat cranky Bobby glaring at her. A jerk of his head to the side swept away her hope for a little more time in Dean's arms and sleepily, she shuffled out of the room following her uncle into the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee brewing.

"How's he doin?" Bobby asked.

"He came around late in the night, that THING used him again... if it comes back again it might well kill him," she hissed angrily.

"How's Sam?" he asked.

"Fine why?"

"No wheezing? No coughing? How's his fever?" Bobby rocketed visibly growing angrier by the moment.

Mercy shrugged, "He's still got a bit of a wheeze but..."

"If you're gonna use the fact that you were pre-med a half a lifetime ago, as an excuse to get close to that boy or anyone else you'd better start pretending to give a damn about the one person he's got that's still ALIVE..." the hunter snarled quietly but with unmistakable anger.

Mercy leaned back, looking into the living room where the woman's body lay still on the couch continually guarded by the ever vigilant sidhe.

"Are you kidding?" she looked back to her uncle, "He had a thing for her? She's firewood..." she snipped as a warm hand dropped onto her shoulder.

"I wouldn't let Dean hear you say that," Sam frowned sliding past her and stuck a cup under the stream of coffee that was brewing.

"From what I can figure she's the one that got you guys into this mess in the first place!" Mercy contested.

"How'd you get that?" Sam asked rolling his head on his neck. He turned quickly as another spasm of deep coughs rocked him.

Bobby scowled at his niece, maneuvering the young man into a chair, "Siddown Sam..." he urged pressing his hand to his forehead, "Still hot... After you eat something you're going back to bed, this place is safer than any other on earth right now," he scowled at his niece and hitched his thumb toward the living room, "Thanks to that bit of 'firewood' out there!" then returned his attention to Sam, "and you need to take the time to recover. So does your brother."

Sam nodded weakly then met Mercy's eyes as she sat across from him, leaning forward, ready to hear him deny what she'd heard.

"Y'know what? I don't know what Tamara's heard, I don't know what you've heard, and I don't care..." Sam shook his head, "it's like the bullshit that came down after the gate was opened... where the hell were any of YOU when we were there trying to stop it? NOT there. Where were any of you when the marauders' brother tortured them," he nodded out toward the front room, "using them, their PAIN and its energy to breech an entire dimension and let those igigi into our world? I know where you weren't..." his chest caught and bent as he held back another round of coughing, his breath buzzing deep inside as well.

"Geez man... Bobby don't you have some cough medicine around here?" Mercy frowned and started rooting through the refrigerator.

"Got some whiskey..." he offered with a wink at Sam who smiled.

"It's a little early in the morning for that don't you think?" she sniped while digging deep into the back of the fridge where she found a small bottle of Nyquil. "This all you have?" she asked.

"Most likely," Bobby nodded.

Mercy shook the bottle and broke through the crust, "Looks like about two doses for you," she grabbed a cup off the rack and poured half the elixir into it then handed it to Sam, "Look, I may not have been there at those times Sam, but it doesn't change the fact that you guys didn't have all this crap in your lives until you met her! Am I right?" she held up her finger stopping Sam from interrupting, "AND let's not forget the most important point here Sam... She's DEAD. She freakin' committed suicide in front of all of us so whatever your brother might feel or have felt for her... she obviously didn't have the same feelings for him..."

Behind Sam, Bobby's expression twisted with disappointment in his niece. He shook his head with his eyes closed, remembering back, two summers ago when he'd been training Laura, helping her learn how to hunt while they took care of John until he came out of the coma. When Dean and Sam had walked into the house, and she showed up, the energy had been tangible, even John, as closed off as he was had felt it. He could still point to the spot in the far yard where Dean and Laura had kissed for the first time, where as they came together they'd been surrounded by blue white light that could've lit half a stadium at midnight.

Sam stood unsteadily and shambled past her, dropping his hand onto her shoulder, "You just go right on thinking that..." he shook his head holding onto the wall as he returned to the bedroom, passing a bleary eyed Tom and Shep in the process. In mid stride, Tom turned from the kitchen and followed him into the bedroom lending a hand to steady the young man, while Shep moved to the couch to check on Laura.

"Anything?" he asked while pressing his fingers to her throat, hoping to feel a pulse. Man that's really freaky... no pulse but still warm... I wonder how they're doing that.

The warrior shook his head, his expression sad and obviously worried.

"If she can she will, don't you worry," Shep grasped his shoulder, "Lemme get some coffee and if you want I'll keep watch for a while... y'all can stretch your legs a bit," he offered.

Mustard Seed shook his head, stood straight and tall, his expression firm.

"Alright I getcha... want something t'eat?" he asked and watched the warrior's eyes light up as his hand came up to his mouth and he mimed something familiar.

"An apple?" Shep asked rising as the sidhe male nodded with a smile.

--

Try as she might to slow her feet as she approached the second gate, it simply could not be done. Fear, as real in this spiritual state as it would have been if she'd had her mortal body, reminded her of what a pounding heart felt like. The acrid taste of its acid on the back of her tongue as she slid the arm bands off, purchasing her way through the gate just as Inanna had when the world was young, was its own reminder too.

She would reach each gate more quickly than the one before until she, like her battle maiden patron stood naked before the hideous goddess, Why do I have to do this? Why did Inanna have to do this? she wondered as the gates swung closed behind her. She didn't notice but as she worked to recall the specifics of Inanna's journey into the underworld, and the animosity between her and Ereshkegal, her footsteps finally did seem to begin to slow.

--

"Mmm... she...smote... ...world..." Dean's head tossed to the side, "...too hot... gonna die...Sammy please... ungh help me... uh God..." he pressed the sheets and blankets from his body only to have Shep pull them back up again.

"Smote the world... smote the world..." Sam shook his head and as it all came pouring back to him, met Sheps' eyes, "Tiamat," he nodded but frowned, "Shep toss me my bag willya?" he asked rooting around through it as soon as it was in his hands.

He pulled his deep brown leather journal and opened the phonebook section he'd kept in tact, "What the hell was her name? Titschler?" a smile deepened his dimples, "Tilter, Esther Tilter...Hell what name did I use?" he wondered aloud and double checked the initials he'd marked next to her name.

After checking to see if he had a signal he dialed the number and sat back in bed with his eyes closed, still too tired to do anything more but to play a part he knew, in some ways, better than his own in this world.

"Esther?" he asked, "This is Sam Edwards... I don't know if you remember me or not but a couple years back you helped me out with some bronze Babylonian Cylinders..."

Shep watched the boys' smile broaden.

"That's right, the Turnbull estate... I am impressed..." he practically purred, "I'm in south Dakota right now... working in a private school... right... I was wondering if you could do a favor for me?" he covered the phone and barked out another series of coughs, "Excuse me... just a little cold... Well I was wondering if you might be willing to roll those cylinders and ship the pressings to me..." he smiled leaning back more carefully this time, "Well believe me there's nothing more that I'd like right now but even if I wasn't half a continent away I certainly wouldn't want to risk giving you this miserable cold..." he closed his eyes, "Mmmm absolutely..." he purred again, unable to look at Shep who was watching him, clearly impressed with just how much he'd picked up from his big brother over the years.

"Esther you are a Godsend... or would you rather I call you, 'Mizz Tilter'?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively then gave her the address. "Mmm the faster the better, I can't tell you how much it means to me...you can be sure of it... Thanks," he closed the phone, let the smile fall partway from his mouth until it was genuine again, and took a slow breath, hoping to keep himself from another coughing fit.

"Shep... Tiamat... she holds the cards... well the tablets," he smiled then swept a glance over his fevered big brother's twisted expression, "S'gonna be okay Dean, we'll get this figured out," he nodded before finally giving in to the effects of the Nyquil.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi