Ashes, the Rain and I
Chapter 4
One of the advantages of Sammy being zapped back to his 14-year-old self was that he was cute enough to charm his way around the eighty-something-year old, evil-looking librarian, who had officially declared that opening hours were over.
Because apparently not even old hags with a penchant for silence and shushing noises could resist the puppy-eyes when they were in full power mode.
In fact, all it took for Sam to convince her to let him slip into the study hall was some teary-eyed story about how he had gotten a C- on his last English test and how his father now forced him to revise classic European literature to improve his grades or else he would be grounded for eternity…
Dean didn't feel addressed by Sam's story until he was on the receiving end of the librarian's wrath, getting lectured about bad parenting and how grounding your child was unorthodox and irresponsible parental behavior that would only lead to lifelong psychological damage.
"No, with all due respect Ma'am, he's not my son—" Dean had tried to protest, looking ten kind of bewildered at the mere suggestion that Sammy was his child- for Christ's sake- did he really look that old, already?
He fondly remembered a time where he and Sam had looked too young to come off as FBI agents and now he was getting mistaken for the Dad of a freaking teenager.
Apparently the years haven't been as kind of him as he'd thought.
"So as soon as he's not living up to your expectations, he's no longer your son, is that it? You should be ashamed of yourself, Mister. People like you should be hunted down by Social Services and bereft of their rights as legal guardians—"
While the lady was working herself into a self-righteous frenzy, Dean clenched his teeth and swallowed down a burst of anger. Because even ignoring the fact that the old woman didn't pose a real threat to them, Dean couldn't deny that the mention of CPS brought up a shitload of memories and emotions that he sure as hell wasn't ready to dig up from the depths of his mind.
And- oh yeah- there was no way he would let some frigid spinster threaten to take his baby brother away from him.
No way in hell.
Not even when theoretically- his brother was a grown-as-hell Sasquatch with legal rights of his own, thank you very much.
"Why don't you take a step back there, Cruella, and let me take care of my kid the way I see fit—"
No reason to tell the truth.
This woman wouldn't believe him anyway, if he told her that Sam was actually his little brother.
But Dean's voice trailed off when something caught his in the back of the study hall, where Sam had ran off to not even ten minutes ago, a huge, dark shadow had crept through the corner of his vision.
Just there and gone again.
Dean was unable to spot Sam's shaggy mop where he'd seen it only minutes ago and it freaked him the hell out to not have the kid in his line of vision all of a sudden.
Dean took an involuntary step towards the direction of the study hall, when Cruella De Ville stopped him mid-movement.
"I let your son go and get the books he needed, but I won't grant you the same—hey!"
Dean gently but firmly steered the older woman out of his way as he hurried to cross over to where his brother had ran off into the European Literature section of the library hall.
"Sammy!" he roared, heart hammering in his chest when he found an opened book on German fairytales sitting abandoned in the center of an old wooden table, no signs of his little brother anywhere nearby. "Sam!"
Whipping his head around in a panicked attempt to find the kid between the lines of bookshelves, the only person he actually did find, was the grouchy librarian who shot him a warning glower from where she stood a few meters next to him, bony arms crossed in front of her chest.
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave—"
"Did you let anyone else in here before us?" Dean ignored the woman's request and crept around the oak wood bookshelf, one hand pressed against the loaded gun that was tucked away in his waistband- still safely hidden from the librarian's view but there and ready to be used if anybody was stupid enough to have touched a single hair on his little brother's head.
The old lady's expression was bewildered when she shook her head. "No, of course not. I told your son that I was only making an exception when I let him in- now if I had known what disarray you two would cause—"
"DEAN!"
A sudden yell broke the woman's words off.
It was Sammy's voice, coming from somewhere across the room and Dean started running the second he heard it, his brother's scream reverberating through every cell of his body.
Sprinting over to the far end of the hall, Dean pulled his gun from his waistband, arms tense and poised ready to shoot at the unknown attacker.
The librarian yelled something after him- sounding panicked and enraged and Dean started to regret his decision to let her stick around when she was so obviously going to be in the way of the impeding fallout.
But his annoyance was short-lived, outweighed by his fear for Sam's safety when he snuck across one of the many dark shelf lines and finally caught a glimpse of his dark blue fabric from a slot between rows of books.
Dark blue like Sam's hoodie.
There were shuffling noises- the rubber from Sam's sneakers screeching against wooden floor boards as he was trying to fightoff his attacker- who had pressed meaty fingers over the kid's mouth to keep him from screaming.
A burst of irrational fury surged through Dean at the sight and before he knew what he was doing, Dean had rounded the shelf and cocked the hammer of his gun, whole body tense like a coil and ready to snap this bastard's bones.
"Get your hands off of my brother, you son of a bitch!"
The guy looked like hybrid version of Hagrid and Mike Myers, his dark scrubby hair a wild mess and skin scabbed over with nasty-looking scars. He was freaking huge- broad shoulders squared as he took in a threatening pose, wielding Sam in front of him like a human shield of protection.
He had a meaty palm pressed over the kid's mouth- while the other arm was firmly locked around the squirming teenager's chest-holding him in place.
Dean's gaze wandered over his brother's body appraisingly, assessing the damage done to the kid and trying to see whether Sam was in any obvious pain.
There was a purple bruise around the kid's chin from where that bastard must have landed a punch- probably catching him by surprise and getting the drop on him in a moment of distraction.
A few droplets of blood were leaking from Sam's nose.
Dean had to force down a wave of renewed anger at the sight.
He would make that freaking bastard pay.
"I would let him go, if I were you. Last chance before you get a smoking hole between the eyes…" he kept his tone low and dangerous. His aim was steady, pointed at the center of big guy's face.
He was being dead serious. The guy was already as good as dead.
Seeing Sam in a vulnerable situation was always igniting an overprotective streak inside of him, but having his little brother turned back into a kid was taking things even further- was reminding him of Sam's innocence and the kindhearted spirit his little brother had always possessed and still did, even now, despite everything that had happened over the course of their lifetime.
Taking care of Sam had always been his duty, had always been his life mission- but the urge to nurture and protect was a million times stronger now that Sammy had actually been turned back into a scrawny kid with barely any meat on his bones.
His current state made him more seem small and helpless even though- logically- Dean knew his little brother was anything but.
"You won't be able to keep him from me—" the man said in a heavily accented voice and Sam choked out a helpless sound of discomfort when the guy's arms tightened around his middle.
Dean took a threatening step forward, aim unwavering even when a nervous muscle ticked in his cheek, giving his own edginess away.
"The boy's already as good as dead. You can't run from us. We will always find him. She will always find him..."
"Yeah, well," Dean pressed out through clenched teeth, eyes falling down to lock gazes with his little brother. "I wouldn't be so sure about that…"
Sam looked at him, waiting for the sign- and Dean moved his head in an affirmative nod- barely there but still discernable for somebody who paid attention. He was suddenly incredibly thankful for his brother's perceptiveness, having always paid attention during the training their father had put them through despite his own resistance to the hunting life.
Because even as a stubborn teenager who used to spend every waking minute of his life butting heads with their old man, Sam had still listened, still paid attention to all the things their father had taught them over the years.
That's why they had all these little code words and signs- military language for when they were in dangerous situations that called for drastic measures- and why they've learned to use them even back when they were still nothing more than kids.
And that's also why Sam bit down on the guy's fingers with so much force that the bastard howled in pain after having received the all-clear from his big brother, causing the man to let go of Sam's chest and stumbling back, whole face scrunched up in agony as he screamed.
Dean waited until his little brother was out of the line of fire, before he pulled the trigger, shooting the bastard in the leg.
The guy fell to the ground with a heavy thud and a blood-curdling scream of pain, blood splattering the old books that were lined up in the shelf behind him.
Sammy flinched back from the sound of the discharged weapon and Dean wrapped a hand around the kid's thin arm before pulling him against his side, fingers lingering on clammy skin, reassuring, protective.
"Stay close," he instructed and Sam nodded, dark hair strands falling into his eyes.
"You okay?" Dean asked in a gruff but gentle voice, leaning down to press his thumb against the small bleeding cut in the boy's lips. A crimson trickle of warm blood protruded from the tiny wound and Sam winced in discomfort.
The boy nodded again, confirming that he was fine, but Dean would only believe that once ha had seen it for himself.
But for now, there were other things they needed to take care of.
Like the big-ass fucker that was writhing on the ground in front of them.
"Who are you?" Dean asked, pointing his gun towards the guy's other leg. "What do you want from my brother?"
"You will pay for what you did here! She will make you pay and she will kill the boy, no matter what you do to protect him," the stranger sneered, clutching at the bullet wound in his leg.
Dean let his gaze trail up and down the guy's body- taking in the strange old-fashioned clothing and the weird hat sitting on top of his scrubby mane.
"Who are you talking about?" he demanded, feeling Sam going rigid beside him in fear over the guy's ominous prediction that somebody was coming for him- that somebody was out to kill him.
Wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders, Dean tried to convey that he would never let anything happen to Sam as long as he was around. That he would rather die trying to save him than to let anybody harm him.
Sam just bit his lip, looking insecure and uncomfortable.
So Dean decided to cut this little Q&A session short.
"Listen up, Bigfoot. My patience is about to run out so you can either start talking or you can kiss your ability to walk goodbye. You understand?!"
There was a metallic click when Dean pulled back the hammer of his gun, removing the safety for a second time.
"Dean…" Sam whispered reluctantly, always the good conscience of the operation. "Maybe we shouldn't—"
He didn't get to finish when the guy on the ground suddenly ripped something out of his chest-pocket, moving too quick for either of them to react.
Muttering a handful of words, the stranger opened his palm, revealing a heap of yellow pollen and blowing until the flower seeds sailed through the air in a cloud of amber dust.
Dean swore under his breath when the puffed pollen clouded his field of vision and Sammy started coughing beside him.
"Cover your mouth, Sammy," Dean ordered hastily, sending off a shot to where he could only see the outlines of the guy's dark contours behind the veil of yellow pollen.
But it was already too late.
When the dust settled a few seconds later, the guy had vanished from his spot on the ground leaving only a pool of blood on the wooden floor boards.
"What the hell—" he muttered, eyes widening when he stepped forward to scan the area for any sign of the man that had been here just a moment ago.
"Vanishing spell," Sam concluded, rubbing the yellow dust from his eyes and grimacing when they stung from irritation.
Dean holstered his gun and took another cursory look around before swiping a finger through the thick layer of pollen that had settled on top of the book shelves.
He sniffed at the sweet, flowery scent that emanated from his fingers and grimaced, the odor having confirmed his suspicion.
"That's Yarrow."
Sam's eyes widened slightly and he bit his lower lip. "The guy had an accent. If I had to guess, I'd say it was German."
Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How can you tell?"
"Short vowels. Harsh sounding sibilants," his little brother shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He had trouble to pronounce 'v's and 'w's which is kinda typical for people with Germanic or Nordic origins…"
"Jesus, you're weird…" Dean sighed rubbing a hand over his forehead. Sam shot him an annoyed glower in response.
"You asked."
"Remind me not to do that again, language nerd," Dean muttered softly, with no real bite in his tongue- because maybe- just maybe he was proud that the kid he had raised was a walking and talking encyclopedia of unnecessary knowledge.
They made their way over to the European section and Sam was quick to gather the books of the Brothers Grimm's tales from the shelves- lastly grabbing the already opened book from the table top from where it had been discarded earlier.
"How did he get the drop on you?" Dean wanted to know, taking some off the books from his brother's hold to help him with the weight.
Sam's gaze dropped to the floor, heat rising up to his cheeks. "I… I was reading the book and he crept up on me from behind. I thought maybe it was just you… and by the time I realized it wasn't—"
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean reassured. "I'm not blaming you. You couldn't have known..."
"That's bull and you know it," Sam challenged, voice suddenly rising up in tone and volume. "A hunter should always expect the unexpected. Isn't that the kind of thing Dad always tries—" Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head upon noticing his own mistake. "— what he tried to tell us?" he corrected.
Dean sighed.
Yes, it was part of the hunter lifestyle to be on guard 24/7.
To be aware of your surroundings and watch your own back when nobody else was around to do it for you.
Never let down your guard- not even for a second.
It had been a motto their dad had lived by for practically all his life.
But Dean didn't want that for Sammy.
He didn't want his brother to spend a lifetime in constant danger, feeling as if he was threatened by everything and everyone.
He had never wanted that for the kid.
That's why he had made it his personal goal to protect Sam. Because that way he could take some of the burden that came with being a hunter from his little brother's shoulders and make him feel secure in a world full of darkness.
Even if it meant that his own life was made more dangerous, was made harder and laced with responsibility, Dean had never regretted his decision to be Sam's protector for life.
"Maybe it's part of the lifetime. But you won't ever have to worry about that as long as I'm around, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Sammy."
Sam sniffed, wiping at the crusted blood below his nose and pulled the books a little tighter against his chest.
"You sure about that?" the kid asked, looking deflated. "You can't watch me all the freaking time, Dean. Sometimes bad stuff just happens, no matter what you do."
"Maybe you're right," Dean conceded. "But that doesn't mean it will happen to you. Not if I can prevent it…"
"Okay," Sam nodded, meeting Dean's gaze with a shimmer of gratitude in his eyes.
When they started moving again, ready to leave the library behind, Sam suddenly gasped, causing Dean to stop dead in his tracks. "What is it? Is he back? Are you hurt?!"
"No, look—" Sam pointed towards a stretch of ground a few meters ahead of them, where the old librarian lay sprawled across the floor.
"Shit," Dean muttered, breaking out into a run, Sammy following close behind him. "She must have watched the scene from back here..."
They both dropped down next to the old lady on the ground, Dean's fingers immediately going for her throat to look for a pulse. He took in a relieved breath when the steady throb of the woman's heartbeat thrummed against his trembling fingers.
"She's alive. Probably just fainted or something," he assessed quietly, watching Sam visibly relax at the news. "Thank god…" the kid breathed out in relief. "Should we call an ambulance?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. But let's get out of here first. 'm gonna call them once we've hit the road okay?"
Sam agreed after a second or two. Together, they hurried outside, leaving a trail of destruction behind.
"You think she'll be alright?"
Dean glanced up from where he was crouched over his little brother's form, tending to his wounds.
He didn't have to ask Sam who he was talking about.
The kid had always worn his heart on his sleeve, feeling deeply for everyone- even if they were just random strangers they had met briefly during one of their hunts.
His ability to sympathize with people and his willingness to help others were both a curse and a virtue in their line of work, but more often than not it just lead to a ton of extra-baggage you would end up carrying around with you if you weren't careful.
Dean took a deep breath and locked eyes with Sam over where his hands were rubbing salve into a vicious looking bruise on his brother's collar bone.
They had quickly returned to their Motel room after what had happened in the library and Dean had immediately shoved Sammy onto the nearest bed and gotten the first aid kit from his duffle.
The teenager had protested at first, trying to tell him that he was fine, but Dean had still wanted to check the kid out and make sure Sammy was alright.
"You don't think she'll… freak out over what happened, right? I mean after she wakes up…" Sam hesitantly continued to voice his concerns, rubbing his nose against the bony length of his bare shoulder.
"Head to the side," Dean gently demanded, taking the soaked washcloth from where he'd dropped it on the nightstand and dabbing at the cut in Sam's lip. "Lift your chin a little."
Sam was oddly compliant, following his brother's orders without resistance or backtalk, which would have been reason for concern if it hadn't been such a damn' long day.
So Dean cleared his throat, looking up to meet his brother's worried gaze. "You're afraid she'll spill her beans… tell the paramedics about what she saw?" he guessed and by the looks of it, hit the nail right on the head.
Sam swallowed, looking sad and deflated, sagging a little more against his brother's probing hands. He stared off at the far wall, fighting for the right words to express his worries.
"She's an old woman, Dean. If she wakes up all confused and freaked out about a hairy giant that got shot in the leg by Rambo and his kid in the middle of a library, people will think she's lost her mind…"
Dean snorted at that, shaking his head. "So maybe she'll get fired, dude. She was way too old to be working anyways, if y'ask me..."
"Dean—" Sam threw in, sounding exasperated.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, Sam, what do you want me to say here? It's tough what we're doing… you win some, you lose some. It's always difficult when innocent bystanders get involved, but even if she's going to lose her job, there's nothing we can do about that. At least she didn't lose her life, right? So quit worrying about her and let's concentrate on you for a second..."
"But I'm fine," Sam tried to swat at Dean's prodding fingers to punctuate his protest, but the older man wasn't taking it.
"Stop squirming and this will be over in ten. You know the drill, Sam. The harder you make this, the longer it will take."
Sam gave a muttered sound of protest but went pliant in Dean's hold all the same, following his big brother's orders dutifully until the scrutiny was over.
Luckily, Sammy had come out of the encounter relatively unscathed, apart from a few bruises on his chest and face and the one cut in his lip.
Dean had stopped the bleeding and put a small patch on the cut, holding the broken skin together.
Thank god it wasn't deep enough to require actual stitches.
In an absurd afterthought, Dean wondered whether the older Sam would be carrying an extra scar on his lips after he was turned back into his regular self. But he discarded the idea just as quickly as it had come.
"You good?" Dean asked when Sam started pulling his hoodie back on. He grabbed a soda from the kitchen counter and passed it on to his brother.
"Yeah, thanks."
After Sam had downed the drink and leaned back against Dean's pillow, he grabbed one of the books they had stolen from the library and started flicking through the yellow-colored pages.
"So…" he started after a moment of silence. "What now?"
Dean mussed his spikey hair and sank down on the bed across from Sam. "Now we try to find out who that guy was. And what fairytale he's from. We know that it must be a German tale, right? And that it must be old-judging from the guy's clothes and demeanor…"
Sam nodded approvingly. "And that there's Yarrow somehow involved. Whatever that means… oh and probably a witch."
Dean looked up at that, curiosity spiking. "A witch?"
He really hoped Sam was wrong on that one…
He hated witches.
Sam crossed his legs and propped his head up on his hand, while the other one thumbed through the pages of the book in front of him.
"Think about it Dean- the use of herbs, the whole vanishing act, the way he kept talking about some woman- as if she was above him somehow- probably meaning he's working for her... oh and let's not forget the fact that witches appear in about every single fairytale in existence."
Dean took his brother's words in and pursed his lips in thought. "That would also explain who turned you into a freaking kid. Only question is what she wants from you…"
Sam rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Sure as hell didn't sound like she planned to take me on a picnic… "
"So maybe she's focused on kids somehow- holding a grudge against them? Do you know any stories where that's the case?"
Sam huffed, drawing random patterns into the mattress with his fingers. "Well… witches are supposed to the villains in the story, remember? They are hardly ever the child-loving, pie- baking Granny type, okay?"
Dean was about to get himself a beer from the fridge when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
"What?" Sam frowned, noticing his brother's sudden shift in posture and expression.
Dean looked up to meet Sam's gaze, eyes bright and opened wide. "Something you just said… The thing about baking pie—"
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's childish behavior. "You and your freaking pie."
"No, shut up and listen for a second doofus," Dean interceded with a stern look. "Isn't there's this story- with these siblings that get turned into pie, or something?"
Sam's eyes lit up with a strange sense of dawning. "Hänsel and Gretel. Dean, you're a genius!" the teenager burst out, before starting to wildly page through the book, looking for that particular story.
Dean moved to sit down beside him on the bed and watched his brother's frantic searching. "So I take it you know what I'm talking about?"
"Yeah, man. I think you might have just gotten us onto something. Hansel and Gretel were lured in and captured by an evil witch who later on tried to fatten Hansel in order to bake him in an oven."
"Gotta love the good old stories…" Dean drawled out in a sarcastic tone, chuckling a little to himself. "So what… we are dealing with a cannibalistic sorceress with a flavor for kids? But that still doesn't explain why she's after you."
"No it doesn't," Sam agreed easily, rubbing his eyes. "And it also doesn't explain why she's de-aging adults when she could just go and snatch kids off the street."
Dean glanced over at his little brother, before taking the book from the mattress and closing it with a heavy sigh. "Alright, how about you get some rest, before we delve deeper into this? You look like you're two seconds away from face-planting into the pillow."
"Am not," Sam scoffed and caused Dean to chuckle in earnest.
"Well now you just look like a petulant toddler," he teased, poking Sam playfully in the side. "C'mon, time to hit the hay, man. You're dead on your feet."
Sam yawned again and that was as close to an actual answer as Dean was ever going to get.
"What are you gonna do?"
Dean seemed to think about it for a second before answering. "I guess I could use some shut-eye, myself."
He made to get up from the bed but Sam was quicker- wrapping thin fingers around the older man's wrist. Dean froze, shooting his brother a questioning look over the shoulder.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier today, Dean."
Dean sighed, tugging to free his arm from his brother's grasp. "Sam—"
"I've never thought of you as a deadbeat or as stupid. In fact you're the smartest person I know…" Sam bit his lip, eyes bashfully dropping to stare at the mattress.
"I've always looked up to you, you know— still do."
"Sammy, you don't have to—" Dean shook his head, emotions bubbling up inside of him.
His brother had always possessed the ability to turn him into a sentimental pile of mush with just a few well-picked words of honesty.
But it was the emotion in his little brother's eyes, the admiration he found in Sammy's vibrant gaze that really did him in.
And suddenly he found himself swallowing around a huge lump in his throat. "Listen, Sammy—let's just forget about it, okay? We were both exhausted earlier and said shit we didn't mean..."
Sam looked as if he had something else to say- mouth already half-opened in protest, but Dean beat him to it. "It's okay. Really. I believe you. Now go to sleep before you keel over, bitch."
Sam's lips twitched, pulling up at the corners and when Dean tried to get up again, the kid still wouldn't let go off his wrist.
"I'm gonna need that arm, eventually…" Dean stated on an exhale, shaking his head at his kid brother's stubbornness.
Sam moved over to the far side of the bad, trying to make himself smaller than he actually was and it was only then that Dean realized what his brother wanted from him.
Their day had been weird. Even more so than usually- what with getting shot and attacked and Sammy being turned into a kid and fighting with each other and trying to catch up with what happened- it had been one huge cluster fuck.
And at fourteen Sam was too proud to outwardly ask his big brother to share a bed with him, but Dean also knew that Sam had always appreciated physical contact in times of confusion and whenever he was worried- both of which was probably the case right now.
So there was no hesitation when he flopped back down on the pillow beside Sam's scrawny body.
He lifted an arm and waited a few seconds, looking straight ahead at the ceiling above their head when a familiar weight finally settled against his side, like a missing piece of his soul slotting back into place.
Right where it belonged.
Dean draped his arm over his brother's small frame and rubbed a palm over his bony shoulder.
"G'night, Dean."
"Night, Sammy," Dean softly gave back, feeling a heavy weight lift from his shoulders and a wave of peacefulness ebb through his veins.
It was odd how- despite everything- their bodies still fit together like two connecting puzzle pieces.
Dean closed his eyes and sighed, letting the steady beat of Sam's heartbeat lull him into blissful oblivion.
Somehow he couldn't fight off the feeling that this felt like the calm before the storm.
TBC...
Thanks for the support and for everyone who is still reading this story! Please let me know what you thought about the chapter and drop me a few words! ;) Reviews are very much appreciated! :D (I am trying to wrap up loose ends and will tie this story up within the next couple of chapters... 2-3 probably... some of your ideas will be used in before this story ends so stay tuned for the rest! ;)) Thanks again. Cheers!