Hello everyone! New chapter! I'm sure you're as excited as I am. Thanks to all of you who are following this. I'm glad you're still enjoying it. No easy fixes in this chapter, I'm afraid, but I think you'll like where this is going ;)

Chapter 8

He had reached the house. He stood in front of the yard, looking through the window at the scene playing out inside. Matilda was sitting in an armchair reading. Gemma was on the couch, fiddling with her phone. At one point, she glanced at Matilda and said something. Matilda frowned and shook her head.

As the two sisters talked, he slowly moved closer, ready to make his presence known. Matilda was tense, he could feel this. When she got tense, so did he. It was a testament to the bond the two of them had – the bond that Tristan had created when he had made the wish and created him. And he was meant to eradicate everything that made Matilda worry. Everyone that put a frown on her face was fair game.

Briefly, he thought of the damned man. But no. His turn would come. He was vulnerable now anyway, blinded to the most important aspect of his life. Easy prey. It was not his turn tonight, though. Tonight, was all about Gemma. And Matilda. Tonight, he would finally meet Matilda. His charge.

Silently, as the ghost he was, he approached the door. Soon enough they would hear him scratching outside. By then it would be too late. They would not be able to stop him.

xxXXXxxx

Did you die?

Of all the things Sam was expecting Dean to say, all the ways he was dreading he would show Sam how disconnected the two of them were now, this had been the last on Sam's mind.

"What makes you say that?" he asked shakily.

"Because I just had this weird-ass dream and I don't know my Freudian symbols, I admit, but I think it was about you dying."

"What kind of dream?"

If Dean had been his normal self – meaning, if his relationship with Sam had not been erased – Sam would have never received an answer to his question. He was actually slightly guilty that he was taking advantage of his brother's temporary (he hoped) amnesia to discover something Dean would have otherwise wanted kept secret from him.

Dean got up and started pacing the room.

"I was at a crossroads," he began and Sam sat up straight, his heart beating wildly. "Then suddenly you were there. You looked at me but didn't say anything. You were honestly freaking me out."

"Uhh…sorry?" Sam offered.

Dean ignored him.

"I reached out for you," he said, and he did sound freaked out to Sam. "And then…then you spontaneously combusted."

Sam frowned in confusion, because this was not how he had expected the story to end.

"Say again?"

Dean shook his head in irritation.

"Which part of you caught fire didn't you get, Sam?"

Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to hide how baffled he was by all of this.

"The part where I caught fire, actually. Because I didn't."

Dean rolled his eyes, looking pointedly at him.

"Well, obviously, Sam, since you're here and all."

Sam shook his head quickly. He got up and went to stand next to Dean, pleased that this time Dean did not seem ready to put some distance between the two of them.

"No, Dean, that part about me dying is true. It happened."

For a few seconds, Dean gaped at him frozen. Then Sam saw comprehension in his eyes.

"It was you," he said hoarsely. "I made the Deal for you. To bring you back."

Sam nodded wordlessly.

XXxxxXXX

Gemma was getting frustrated. She was ready to allow Matilda to stay at her place for as long as she needed. She thought her dad had trouble connecting with Matilda and had his own ideas about the world, most of which were bull – his friendship with scumbag Adam was a clear proof of that, as far as Gemma was concerned. But she also wanted Matilda to face her conflicts. She could not be on the fence anymore.

"Listen, Mattie, you keep hiding yourself. Escaping. Whatever. You can't do that anymore."

Matilda scowled.

"Is this what you think I'm doing? Escaping reality?"

Gemma looked pointedly at her.

"You always were, you know."

Matilda sprang up.

"That's rich coming from you. Or from anyone in this family really. You've spent ten years escaping reality yourselves. Or wasn't this what you were doing when you were pretending I was part of the family?"

Gemma felt a stab of pain at the accusation.

"That wasn't pretense, Mattie," she said quietly.

Matilda sniffed, anger quickly turning into vulnerability.

"Wasn't it?" she asked in a small voice.

Gemma took a step towards her and took her hand.

"Mattie, you are my sister. Blood or not. It doesn't matter."

It had been something that had always worried Gemma – that when Matilda found out she was adopted, she would lose her connection with her family. Gemma had never cared, had loved Matilda from day one, when she had arrived at the family home dazed and in shock and with so much sadness behind her eyes. She had been secretly glad when it seemed Matilda could not remember her past – and had always suspected her father had done something to make this happen. She knew he dabbled into things one was not supposed to mess with. In fact, she was half-certain the mess with the murders was on him, too. Tristan had been acting quite shady since Adam's death – and it was not just grief over the loss of a friend or fear for the bad publicity the festival was getting.

"But here's what does matter. I think you should talk to Dad."

Matilda wrenched herself away from her.

"I have nothing to say to that man."

Gemma frowned.

"That man raised you. He may not have been blood, but he did raise you."

She was slightly annoyed by Matilda's pout.

"He also lied to me. Doesn't that matter at all?"

Gemma sighed wearily.

"He thought he was doing the right thing. I know this doesn't excuse him, but he did. Here's the thing, though, Matilda. You need to talk to him. I think he's made a terrible mistake."

Matilda's eyes flashed.

"Was it also one he thought was the right thing to do?"

Well, Gemma thought, Matilda always had a tendency to be a bit of a brat when she did not get her way.

"And what do you mean, terrible?" Matilda challenged. "You don't think he had anything to do with the murders, do you? That he killed Carol Anne and Adam?"

Gemma hesitated. Was this what she was trying to say? Could she really go back to her family if she said this out loud?

The lights went off. Instinctively, Gemma drew Matilda towards her. There was a scuffle at the door.

"He's here, isn't he?" Matilda whispered. "The one who killed them, he's here."

Footsteps sounded outside the room.

"Matilda," Gemma said and was rather proud that she could keep her voice calm. "I want you to run. Go out the back."

Matilda clutched her arm.

"What? No! We're leaving together."

Gemma shook her head furiously. They didn't have much time.

"Go out the back," she insisted. "I'll slow him down."

She glanced at the fireplace where the poker was. Of course, Adam and Carol Anne had been completely dismembered, so it was doubtful she could do much with a measly fire poker. But she'd be damned if she didn't try. For Mattie.

The door to the living room rattled.

xxxXXXxxx

Dean was sitting on his bed staring into space. It was hard to take in everything Sam had told him. He still suspected that Sam had left plenty of things out – maybe with good reason, since Dean could admit to himself within the confines of his mind that he was slightly unpredictable when it came to Sam now that he could not remember him. But the gist of it, he was sure, was there: Sam dying, Dean making the Deal, Sam coming back to life, understandably pissed at Dean.

"Wow," Dean said.

Next to him, Sam looked at him incredulously.

"Wow, Dean? That's all you have to say?"

Dean shook his head, irritation bubbling inside him.

"What do you want me to say? It's a lot to take in."

"But you knew about the deal, though," Sam said cautiously.

Dean got up and started pacing.

"Yeah. I knew about the deal. I had no idea who I made it for. At first I thought it was Dad, but that didn't make sense. Then maybe Bobby or Jo. But even then, it didn't seem right."

He sensed Sam was looking at him carefully, but did not turn to look at him.

"What about now that you know the truth?" Sam challenged. "Does it feel right?"

Dean turned to glare at him.

"Dude, I can't remember you. Right now, it feels like I've made an idiot of myself for someone who doesn't even exist for me."

He instantly regretted the words when he saw Sam's eyes glaze over.

"Hey, no," he said quickly. "Look, I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

Sam, however, made a curt movement to dismiss his apologies. Looking at him, Dean started to feel worried. There was a tightness in his face that worried him. He was sure that, if he had known Sam, he would not have liked that look one bit.

"Well, then here's your chance to undo it," Sam said.

Dean stared blankly at him.

"Undo what?"

"The Deal," Sam replied.

Dean wondered if Sam had lost his mind or if he had even possessed one in the first place.

"I thought I couldn't undo it. You don't undo deals like that once you've sealed them. That's the point, isn't it? Otherwise every schmuck would make reckless crossroads deals and then get to keep his soul."

Sam smiled tightly.

"But not every schmuck has a wish stone."

Dean dug into his pocket and looked at the stone.

"You mean…?"

"Think about it," Sam urged him "That wish stone is like a blessing in disguise. It's like it was meant to come to you. Just wish the Deal null and void, Dean. You can do it."

Dean ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the stone. Why not? he thought. Why live like this with that threat hanging over his head? Sam, he noticed, was looking straight at him and nodding. There was a feverish glint in his eyes. Excitement, Dean guessed, and he supposed Sam had good reason to be excited at the prospect of ending Dean's Deal. After all, Sam had not lost his memories of Dean- so he probably still felt for his brother the same as always.

A dark sense of foreboding started to creep into Dean's mind, then. He closed his hand around the stone.

"What about you?"

Sam shrugged.

"What about me?"

"The Deal was for you to live, Sam," Dean pointed out. "What would happen if I undo it? If I make this wish, what will happen to you?"

"Does that matter?" Sam challenged. "You said it yourself, right now, you're going to die for someone you don't even remember. So why not take this chance, Dean? Make the wish. You have my blessing, if that counts for something."

Dean hesitated. Sam had given his consent, so he did not have to feel any remorse. He could try wishing the Deal was over, and if Sam died…The thought brought about the memory of the dream. He sensed it was not the first time he had dreamed of Sam like that.

He stuffed the stone back in his pocket.

"Nice try, Sam."

His brother took a step back.

"Dean, I thought…"

He shook his head in disgust. He wanted to punch Sam in the face and had to make an effort to restrain himself.

"I know what you were trying to do," he said hoarsely. "You thought, since I obviously didn't remember you and I didn't have any ties to you, I could undo the Deal without any consequences for myself. Is that it?"

Sam would not look at him now. Dean grabbed his shoulders, ignoring his brother's flinch.

"Sam, is that it?"

Sam wrenched himself free of Dean's hold.

"You don't remember me, Dean," he said. "But I remember you. And when the time comes, you'll go to Hell for someone you don't even know and I'll…I'll…"

He paused and turned around, but not before Dean caught the glint of tears in Sam's eyes.

"I can't lose you, Dean," Sam said brokenly. "It already feels that way now. You haven't the faintest idea who I am."

"So what?" Dean asked uncompromising. "You think it would be easier for me to lose you? I made that deal, Sam. I might not remember it, but I think it's pretty clear how I felt about you being gone."

Sam twisted round, his eyes burning with anger.

"But you no longer remember that, do you? So what would be the harm?"

Dean had to ask if he had ever been aware that his little brother had such a low opinion of himself – and if he had known, then why the hell hadn't he done anything to redress it?

"Ok, first off, I don't want to live out the rest of my life with a hole in my head. We're gonna have to find a way to fix the not remembering you bit, Sam."

He steadfastly ignored the hopeful look in Sam's eyes, because it was distracting him from the main point he was trying to make.

"And even if I don't remember you," he went on, "I think I owe the part of me that knew you to keep you safe. I know me, Sam. I know I would never accept such a tradeoff. And you probably know too. You'd never have suggested this if I had all my marbles on me, right?"

Sam sat back down on the bed. His head was hanging low and he looked utterly defeated. It pierced Dean's heart even without the memories.

"It was worth a try," he finally said.

Dean was about to say something, whether to comfort Sam or berate him, he did not really know. He never would, either, as Jo chose that moment to barge into their rooms. Dean frowned.

"Someone should really teach you about boundaries," he said.

Jo ignored the jab.

"You guys need to come with us. There was an attack at Gemma's house. Both Gemma and Matilda were involved."

"Dark Spiro," Sam guessed.

Jo nodded.

"Looks like it. Witnesses report seeing a man in a weird costume."

xxxxXXXxxx

Ellen had checked the police scanner that night in time to hear of a reported attack at the house of Tristan's eldest daughter. She knew Matilda was staying there, and there were plenty of hints Tristan's own manifest protector was involved. Therefore she got Jo to get Sam and Dean so they could all investigate.

"Don't you think they're better getting reacquainted with each other?" Jo had asked.

Ellen shrugged.

"Those two are bad at communicating when they both remember who the other is. I don't want to know the kind of misunderstandings they can cause when one doesn't remember the other."

Still, looking at Sam and Dean afterwards, Ellen thought she could see the tenuous attempts at a connection. At least, Dean was no longer trying to completely reject Sam and the idea of Sam as his brother. Something had happened that night in the brothers' motel room. But whatever it was, Ellen knew she would never be told. Bobby had already warned her that it was unwise to interfere in Sam and Dean's affairs. They had a way of solving their problems that involved only the two of them. They might have needed a push in the right direction from time to time – and Ellen was perfectly willing to give them that – but the steps they took to fix their messes were not shared with anybody but themselves.

Gemma's house was a mess. The door had been torn from its hinges, a fishbowl in the living room had been overturned, furniture was broken. There were no bodies and no blood, which could have been a good sign.

"Matilda was there," Jo said. "And Tristan wished that thing to be her protector. Maybe that's why he did not kill anyone."

"We don't know that he didn't kill anyone," Dean said. "For all we know, this might not be a good sign."

"It isn't," Sam said. "Not if Dark Spiro follows the pattern it had in the book."

"Which is what?" Dean prompted. "Not all of us are nerds, Sam."

The corners of Sam's mouth tilted upwards.

"Right. Well, in the book, Dark Spiro turns on the boy's mother – the one who made the wish in the first place."

"But it wasn't Gemma who made the wish here," Ellen pointed out. "It was Tristan."

Sam nodded quickly.

"I know. This Dark Spiro might be headed for Tristan, too. However, in the book, he tries to get to the boy thinking he is the only one who can protect him. He tries to kidnap him from his minder, who was a distant relative of the mother's. He actually wanted to kill the minder, but the boy persuaded him not to."

"So, you think Matilda managed to do the same and Dark Spiro spared Gemma?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged.

"She's a fan of the books, has probably read them several times over. She'd know how to buy herself and Gemma some time."

"So, where are they?"

Sam frowned in concentration.

"In the book, they were taken to the device that granted the wishes."

Dean waved that aside.

"Well, we have the wish stone, so that can't be it."

Sam seemed at a loss for a moment. Then his eyes met Dean's. Watching them, Ellen could see the brief moment of almost telepathic connection. Even though Dean had been made to forget Sam, the buried instincts were still there. The two brothers could still have a silent conversation with each other, keeping out the rest of the world.

"Guys," Ellen said. "I'd hate to interrupt this moment you two are obviously having – and I'm glad you're having it, believe me – but we're running out of time. If you know something, share it with those who don't speak your language."

Dean was the first to look away from Sam, and he seemed almost sheepish. Ellen regretted reminding the two of the distance they were now facing. It had to be done, though. Two lives were at stake.

"So, do you know where he is?" Ellen challenged.

"We know where he could have taken Gemma and Matilda," Sam said. "Where the wish was made."

Dean nodded.

"Tristan's place. He's going to confront the one who brought him to life."

About three or four more chapters to go I suppose. I'm going to explore a bit how Sam and Dean work together when Dean can't remember his brother. I'll of course have Dean remember everything (just not in the next chapter, sorry!).