A/N: You know your reviews mean the world to me, and I am touched by the people who have favorited Queen of Light and put it on alert. I'm honored that you care about the story. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you.
And, as always, thank you to Jen for putting up with my bombarding you with the early versions of the chapters. And to Dana and everyone at SFTCOL(AR)S who allowed me to rant my defense of Sam and made me smile with their responses. We love our boys.
Warning: Here there be cursing. Two guys raised by a marine. Who'da thought they'd curse?
Disclaimer: I don't own them. The incredible fun of playing with them is the only profit I receive from the story.
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From Chapter 12:
Joey's breath sped up, the fear barely held in check. "But what…why…what about you?"
"I'll be right behind you making sure nothing in the water hurts you. I'll be fine. But don't wait for me, even if you don't see me. In fact, let's make it a race. See if you can beat me to shore." He wanted the kid out of the water…now. "Okay?"
"Okay." Joey gave a short, choppy, nod and Sam squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.
Sam took a deep breath and let himself sink down into the water.
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Chapter 13 Stolen Child
It reminded him of being out in heavy fog. Patches of startling clarity that came up suddenly and then were swallowed by clouds of miniscule debris that turned the water opaque. The world was silent under the water, but there was no peace in the silence. The quiet was an enemy, muffling the sounds that would warn him of things hidden in the murk.
There were constant currents in this portion of the lake. They tugged at him, trying to pull him away from Joey. The cloudy water shredded around him as he reached Joey's ankle, and a clear patch drifted into place. They were poised on the edge of a steep drop-off in the lake bottom. The grass holding Joey's ankle was rooted on the edge of the precipice. A few feet further and the bottom was too deep for any growth to make it that close to the surface. He lifted the knife to free the child, keeping his eyes on a cloud of murky water sweeping rapidly towards them.
The attack came from a different direction. A hard grip on his ankle tugged him sharply downwards, shocking him enough to almost expel the air in his lungs. He looked down, meeting the eyes of the bogie who was grinning up at him as she tried to drag him down into the depths beyond the drop-off.
Jenny was hideous. Her green hair floated around her head like the grass that had begun filling the lake. Her bony face was fixed in a savage smile, two wicked looking incisors dwarfing the rest of her pointed teeth. Her skin, the ragged and gauzy material that covered her and drifted in the water around her, were all the same grayish green. She blended perfectly, her bottom half almost invisible against the hazy depths under them. She wasn't kicking, wasn't waving her free arm, and yet they continued to drop as she pulled him deeper.
He had to get back to Joey, had to cut the kid free before she went after him. Sam jackknifed his body, slashing with the knife. It sliced across the top of her hand, releasing a small dark cloud of blood, and her mouth widened in a soundless scream as her fingers opened.
Sam shot upwards, waving his arms to halt himself as he reached Joey's feet. It only took one quick swipe to sever the last bonds holding the child in place and Sam continued to the surface. Joey looked surprised at his sudden appearance and Sam dragged in a quick lungful of air before shoving him towards the shore. "GO!" The boy didn't need to be told twice, immediately stretching out on the surface, his arms and legs moving smoothly in a distance eating crawl towards safety.
Sam took a deep breath and sank back under the water, twirling slowly. If there was no sign of the bogie he would begin trailing Joey, positioning himself to head off any attacks against the child. Small particles filled the water in patterns that shifted and moved in the current, alternately clouding and clearing around him. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to keep track of ever changing blind spots. He twitched right and then left, his eye caught by the illusion of things moving through the water, until his nerves were stretched tight and he wanted to scream.
He was tempted to begin following Joey, but he knew, he just knew, that she was out there watching him right now. Laughing at him. What better game for a dark fae than to play cat and mouse? She was powerful. The cold iron in his hand only added some challenge to the mix for her.
She stepped the game up a notch. Coming from behind she barreled into him like a missile through the water. She hit the right side of his back and his body arched, his head snapping back as his arms flew out to the sides. It was a quick hit and then she was gliding past him to the right and Sam painfully realized what her goal was. Claw like nails scratched down the length of his right arm, attempting to make him drop the knife. Against a hard surface the nails would have gouged into him, damaging nerve and muscle and rendering the arm useless. But the water allowed his arm to shift forward, away from the attack, and he was left with long bloody furrows. Painful, but not enough to make him lose the knife. He twisted his arm so that the knife was facing her and stabbed outwards as her body continued to move past. He felt a slight resistance as it cut through the fabric draping her, and then a more solid contact as it sliced into her leg. She jerked away from him and sped away into the murk, and Sam took his chance to shoot to the surface for much needed air.
Joey was about a third of a way to the shore, his friends' shouted encouragements a sudden blast of sound in Sam's ears. He pulled in a quick lungful and immediately pushed himself back under the surface.
Jenny was almost on top of him, her arms stretched out in front of her. He lifted the knife and her left hand clamped around his wrist while her right hand slashed towards his face. He caught her right wrist in his free hand and they faced each other through the water in a surreal grappling pose.
Sam couldn't move. Her grip on his right wrist was like iron, holding the knife away from her. His long fingers wrapped easily around the prominent bones of her other wrist, and he tightened his hold, straining to keep the reaching claws away from him. Jenny pulled and twisted it in his grasp. She wasn't being particular. If she couldn't reach his face she would be content to rip into his chest or stomach. Her smile was gone, her thin lips twisted in a snarl as she fought with him.
The fingers around his right wrist shifted, and the nails began to dig into his skin. Thin ribbons of blood from his arm and wrist were dark in the water. They drifted lazily, mingling with the clouds of blood still coming from the slash on the back of her hand. His heart leapt at the sight. She wasn't healing. The iron knife did true damage.
He was weakening, worn down by her unflagging strength. It was becoming harder to hold onto the knife, harder to keep her away from him. She began to lean her head forward, her lips peeled back from her teeth as she attempted to bite his wrist. Fear flooded Sam at the thought of the bite marks on the earlier victims and he brought his legs up, pressing his knees against her chest.
His fingers released her right wrist and he clapped his hands together as he shoved with his legs. Her freed hand reached for him but it was too late. He'd transferred the knife to his left hand and slashed in a backhanded blow. She threw herself backwards and he missed her neck, slicing through the top of her chest.
She shot backwards, away from him, her features a mask of surprise and anger. They were suspended in a clearer patch, able to see each other easily over the short distance. Her body hovered in the water as she eyed him, her eyes narrowing. Sam was trembling, fighting the natural urge to pant from the combination of exertion and adrenaline flooding him. Jenny began to cautiously back up, her eyes tracking him, before she twisted in the water and shot off into the gloom.
The need for oxygen wasn't overwhelming yet, but waiting until it was could turn out to be suicidal. Sam kicked his feet, rising the few feet to the surface quickly. He squinted against the bright sunlight, momentarily surprised at the difference between the idyllic afternoon and the eerie gloom underwater. Joey was closer to the shore, but the grass was slowing him down tremendously. Sounds carried over the lake, and Sam's eyes began to swim at the force of the emotions that rushed through him as a low rumble reached him. He'd know the sound of the Impala anywhere. He ached to catch sight of his brother, to have at least a moment when he didn't feel so alone in this. But Jenny knew his weakness, his need for air. He'd already been on the surface for a couple of seconds and couldn't linger any longer. She would be coming back.
He filled his lungs and dove back into the quiet shadows.
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The Rav 4 was the first thing that Dean saw when he roared into the dusty clearing. Anger sparked for just a second—Sam was with his friends?—but he pushed it away. He was done doubting his brother.
The frightened yells were easy to hear when he shut off the powerful motor and Dean threw the Impala's heavy door open, leaving it gaping as he tore towards the noise. There were four children huddled together at the edge of the water when he burst onto the beach. He ran towards them, his eyes frantically searching the area, desperate for a glimpse of his brother. His stomach dropped at the sight of the rowan club clutched tight in the tallest boy's hand. The kids were concentrating on the water, their voices edged with panic as they urged someone to hurry, swim faster.
Please God, let me see my brother coming this way, that stupid floppy hair moving through the water.
He skidded to a stop at the edge of the lake and his stomach sank when he saw the boy struggling to reach the shore, his stroke slow and faltering. The other four children looked up at him like he was the cavalry charging in on horseback. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with fear as they turned their attention to him, plucking at his arms and pointing at the lake.
"You've got to help Joey!"
"Don't let him drown!"
Dean crouched, tearing the laces of his boots free. There was a moment of dizziness when he noticed Sam's sneakers sitting on the coarse sand next to him. He looked out at the water feeling his own panic starting to blossom. There was no sign of Sam.
"Where's my brother? Where's Sam? He came here to help you. Where is he?" Dean pushed himself to his feet, not caring that he was yelling at a group of children who were already frightened. He didn't have time to play nice.
"He cut us loose and then went out and cut Joey loose," a girl stammered. "We were all tangled. We would have drowned." She was crying, her breath starting to hiccup.
Pride was a brief burst of warmth in his chest, but it couldn't blunt the cold fear already there. "Where is he now?"
The boy with the club pushed his red curls out of his eyes and pointed out into the water. "He keeps coming up for air, but he's still out where Joey was." The boy's green eyes were full of tears, but he was still holding it in. He fixed Dean with a serious stare. "Please, help Joey."
Shit. Sam might have gotten into trouble saving this kid and Dean couldn't help him until he finished what Sam had started. He plunged into the water, tearing through the grass that tried to hold him as he splashed through the shallows. He kept Joey in his peripheral vision, his gaze fixed on the water further out. The still surface that was hiding his brother.
He began to swim when the water was deep enough, fighting the grass that wanted to hold him still. How the hell had Sam made it back and forth through this, saving at least three kids?
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Jenny was shooting towards him when Sam dropped back into the water, but the sight of the knife brought her up short. It was incredibly unsettling to see her execute such smooth and powerful underwater maneuvers without ever having to kick her feet or wave her arms.
Her face twisted in fury and she surged forward again, slashing at him. He countered with the knife and they began dodging and circling each other in a deadly underwater dance. They traded cuts and scratches, Sam fighting hard to keep her teeth away from him. His lungs began to burn and he grabbed her arms and kicked hard, aiming them upwards. The move took her by surprise and Sam was able to gasp precious oxygen before she was hauling them back under the surface.
His willingness to continue fighting seemed to shake her and she pushed away from him, stopping to eye him warily from several feet away. Out of reach of the knife. Sam held himself steady, determined not to show the fear that next time he wouldn't make it to the air. Not to show the exhaustion wrapping itself around him, weighing him down. He must have hidden it well because he saw the moment that she decided Sam just wasn't worth the effort. Not when there was a much easier victim still in the water. With her speed she could reach Joey before he made it to the shore. Sam chilled at the thought that Dean was probably in the water by now too, helping Joey. Without the knife Dean would be defenseless against her.
This was it. Sam could probably make it to shore while she was distracted. It would be his best chance. But if he could slow her down, he could give that chance to Joey. And to Dean. Sam took his cue from her eyes. As soon as her gaze fixed past him, towards shore, he was in motion.
She was quick. So damn quick. Swerving around him and then shooting past in the blink of an eye. Even acting on his foresight Sam barely managed to grab her ankle with his right hand. He clamped down and was not prepared for what came next.
Jenny was like a vicious snake whose tail had been grabbed. In one fluid motion she struck, curling unnaturally back over herself to sink her teeth into Sam's wrist. Sam's eyes widened in shock and a look of unholy triumph lit her face.
The triumph changed almost immediately to confusion and then fear as the knife in Sam's other hand severed her neck.
Sam pushed hard with the wicked weapon, cutting through unnatural flesh, sinew and gristle. Black blood poured into the water, bathing his hand in warm gore. Her mouth loosened and slipped free from Sam's wrist. Jenny's face was slack, her eyes dull as her body began to drift away from him. The knife had done its work, the wound in her throat was gaping and deadly. The pain of her bite faded, warmth flowing up his arm and then through his body.
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Dean's arm was wrapped securely around the slim boy's chest, his kicks adding power to the adolescent's as they struggled back towards the shore. He concentrated on getting them there, getting this kid out of the water.
Joey's group of friends had kept up a constant stream of encouragement as he swam towards the boy. He had just gotten a secure hold on Joey and started back when the calls from shore changed pitch, excitement edging into the fear. He couldn't make it all out, but one thing was certain. They'd seen Sam on the surface again. Dean had to believe that meant Sam was coming up for air, that he was still okay out there.
The grass was an incredible bitch. It seemed almost sentient in the way it tried to wrap itself around their ankles and grab onto the arm Dean was stroking through the water. What was Sam's secret? He still didn't know how the hell his brother had done this.
Dean took a deep breath and concentrated on putting more power into his kicks and strokes. He could feel the thin chest under his arm heaving as Joey tried to help.
When the grass suddenly loosened its grip and they shot forward Dean felt a moment of triumph. He almost started laughing when he realized that he hadn't broken through the tough patch on his own. He was still surrounded by grass, skimming over it as they swam. But it wasn't reaching for them anymore, it was no longer trying to stop them. Sam had done it somehow. He was sure of it.
His fingers skimmed the dirt on the bottom of the lake and he kicked to move them just a little closer before pulling his legs under him and standing up. He hauled Joey up with him, settling the boy onto his own feet. He kept his arm around Joey's waist though, helping the shaky child walk towards the shore.
"Where did you see Sam?" Dean yelled as soon as he caught his breath.
It was the red haired kid who answered him. "He came up for air again. But…but it looked…" The kid scrunched his face up and finished in a rush. "It looked like he was fighting with something."
Dean lifted Joey and crossed the remaining distance in two quick strides, practically tossing the boy onto the shore. "Where?" he spat out, trying to hold his renewed fear in check. Sam had to be okay. He must have beat whatever he'd been fighting if the grass let them go, right?
"Out there." The redhead pointed slightly to the right, away from the spot where they'd originally been seeing Sam. Damn. If Sam was moving in the water how the hell was Dean supposed to find him?
He turned to face the broad expanse of the lake. Sam should be surfacing and swimming towards them any second. He had to be.
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Nonononono. He killed her. The threat was gone. This wasn't fair.
Sam's body began shaking, spasms moving through his muscles. He had to fight this. He had to make it to the surface, to the air there. He tilted his head back and realized just how close salvation was…and how quickly it was slipping away.
His eyes fixed on the huge puffy clouds studding the deep blue over his head. Bright white, glowing, the cloud edges were sharply etched by the sun. He wanted to raise his hand, reach for them, feel the warmth of that sun on his skin. With each inch of water that filled the space above him the clouds blurred a little more, the details of each becoming wavy and indistinct. His long brown hair fanned out from his head, strands floating lazily in front of his eyes and then away as he began to drift slowly sideways, steadily downward.
The water was liquid silk trailing over his skin. Soft and welcoming. He knew he had to move his arms, but he was so tired. So tired of always struggling.
He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the murky water above him as it stole the sky away. It was too much effort to move. Guess Dad and Dean were right. He was useless. Too weak to even help himself. No wonder Dean hated him.
Dean
God, no.
He'd heard the Impala. It didn't matter how Dean felt about him, Dean was close. He would blame himself for not saving Sam.
He couldn't do that to Dean. It wasn't Dean's fault that Sam had gotten into this trouble. He couldn't let Dean carry the weight of that guilt without even trying to save himself. There'd been too much hurt between him and Dean, he couldn't lay that on him too.
He began to fight the invisible weights that pulled him deeper, fight the desire to just lose himself in the warm comfort of the liquid and the silence that cradled him. It would be so easy to let go, just let go of everything.
Dean bitched about it all the time. Sam never did things the easy way.
Slowly, so slowly, his arms moved.
He had to fight for each inch of movement that he forced out of his muscles. Fight the pain. The knife was still locked in his fist, his fingers tight around it. He ignored the urge to just open his hand and let it fall away. He didn't know what else was in the water, but as he drifted he became convinced that something was there. Lights, barely visible, flickered and moved in the depths under his feet.
He couldn't let go of the knife, not when it might be the only thing keeping them at bay, the iron repelling them. Not when there was no one there to protect his back. When he was alone.
Always alone.
It hurt.
He could do this. His hand edged towards his waist and his lips thinned in a stark grin of satisfaction when the knife slid securely into its sheath. He was still sinking but the sky wasn't lost yet, an area of paler gray above him, beckoning to him.
He could do this.
He needed a chance to make things up to Dean…to make some peace with Dad. He had to fight for that chance with every bit of strength he could summon. His arms began to stroke the water, his hands cupped and pushing. His legs were sluggish at first, tingling and painful as he forced them to move and kick. Every movement hurt, his muscles fighting the toxin flowing through him, his chest beginning to burn with the need for air. A corner of his mouth lifted in defiance. A little pain wasn't going to stop him. He'd dealt with worse.
He couldn't go out like this, not when they both still hated him.
The glow above him grew stronger as he rose through the water. He wouldn't be distracted, couldn't let himself be distracted by the other lights. The smaller lights that flitted through the water around him, hovering, darting, but always keeping their distance because of the iron knife on his belt
So close. He just had to push himself a little more and it would be okay. He would be okay.
With the last of his strength he forced himself upward and broke the surface.
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It was a hell of a lot easier to swim without having to worry about a weed trying to kill him. He'd launched himself back into the water as soon as the red haired kid, 'Ryan' according to Joey, had aimed him in the right direction. Sam might not be in that spot anymore, but at least it was a starting point.
"There! Over there!"
He pulled himself up in the water at the sound of the excited yells, treading water to hold his position as his eyes followed the fingers pointing from shore. Dean could barely make him out, but it was definitely Sam floating on the top of the water in the midst of patches of green scum. The underwater currents were stronger than Dean expected, Sam had drifted a good distance from where he was originally spotted. But damn! There he was back on the surface! He was gonna kill the kid for giving him a freakin heart attack.
Dean's smile began to fade. Sam was on the surface…but the way he was floating just didn't look right. Too loose. No control. He added his voice to the high pitched children's cries reaching for Sam from the shore.
"SAM! HOLD ON! I'M ON MY WAY!"
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Water streamed off of his face, flowed from his hair. He couldn't hold his head up and he laid back, his eyes seeking the blue of the sky above him as the warm sun bathed his skin. There were yells, screams of excitement, and Dean's voice. Yelling his name. Telling him to hold on, he was coming.
Dean was there. God, it was going to be okay. He was going to have his chance to make it up to Dean. Just for this moment he could forget all of the hard words that had been said. Because they wouldn't matter any more. He'd have a chance to change Dean's mind about him. Earn back his respect. He'd do whatever he had to…toe the line with Dad…anything. Because he couldn't live with his brother hating him.
Sam opened his mouth, desperate to relieve the clawing pressure in his chest. He sucked in a breath, blessed relief from the pain. The air slowed to a trickle, and then it stopped.
His back arched, cords in his neck standing out as his lungs began to strain, trying to pull air through his closed throat. The tightness increased, spreading beyond his throat and down into his chest. The black ringing his vision began to spread, joined by spots dancing in front of his eyes. The blue sky mocked him as pain in his chest blossomed and ate at him.
His arms were spread, his hands reaching. Hoping to feel fingers grasp his, to feel a touch that would anchor him. But the voice had been too far away. He knew it wouldn't reach him in time. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest clenching in an aborted sob of disappointment.
Bit by bit the water reclaimed him, pulling him away from the warmth of the sun. A rushing sound filled his ears, chasing away the memory of voices calling to him, encouraging him.
No. Please no. He wasn't ready to die yet. Not before righting things with Dean, with Dad. He had friends now. Real friends. He didn't want to leave them yet. Not like this. Not to become some sad memory.
He didn't want to leave Dean. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
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He kept his head up as he began to stroke towards his brother, keeping track of the still figure's position. He stopped for a second, his heart suddenly hammering in his ears. There was something wrong. It looked like Sam was screaming wordlessly up at the sky, his head tilted back and his back arched. Even over the distance Dean could see it clear as day. Sammy couldn't breathe.
Oh God no. Sammy, I'm coming. Please just hold on. He couldn't lose his brother like this. It was his job to keep Sam safe. The panic fueling his limbs turned to cold dread when Sam slipped back under the surface of the lake.
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He fought to move his arms and legs again, to reach the surface one more time. Just one more time and he knew Dean would be there to grab onto him. To grab on and not let go.
But he just sank deeper.
His limbs refused to move and with each second that passed his mind became hazier and his exhaustion more profound. He'd been without oxygen for too long. His eyes opened, seeking some sign of the light above him. A reason to keep trying. A reason to hold on to hope.
It was dark, quiet. The sky's radiance was gone. He was alone, even the flickering points of light had left him. His body was no longer under his control, drifting in the currents. He'd tried. He'd tried so hard. To save himself. To be who they wanted him to be. He couldn't do it anymore. He had to accept it. Dad was right. Dean was right. He wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough. He never had been, never would be. The last bit of resistance drained out of him and the agony in his chest faded.
It would be better this way, for everyone
Eric, the Jacobs, his friends…they would mourn him, but they'd be spared the betrayal of him slipping away in the middle of the night with his Dad and Dean. The way he'd betrayed all of the other people who'd dared to be his friends in the past. Dad…John would be fine. He wouldn't have to worry about his screw-up son anymore… the stress and arguments. Without his constant anger at Sam he'd deal with everything else better. Stop drinking. Start looking after Dean sometimes. Maybe…maybe he'd miss Sam a little. But he'd still have Dean. The son he wanted.
Dean. Dean would feel guilty. He'd mourn the loss of the brother that Sam could have been. But he'd finally be free. Free of a burden that had been placed on him when he was just a small child, a weight that constantly dragged him down and hurt him. Without Sam screwing things up and coming between them Dean would be able to have the relationship he needed with the man he idolized.
Sam would never put him in danger again. Sam would never have the chance to screw up and get him killed.
The water held him close and comforted him with a soft caress on his skin. It was calming, offering a peace that he had never truly experienced in his far too short life. No more pain. No more worry. He wouldn't have to face the disappointment in his father's eyes anymore, or hear the anger in his brother's voice. He would never again have to feel like he didn't belong anywhere, not even in his own family.
It didn't matter that tears leaked from his eyes and mingled with the water tainted by blood drifting from his scratches. It was better this way. For everyone.
The last of the pain leached out of him as he let go and accepted the darkness that was waiting for him. He felt lighter, calm. No more struggles, just peace.
I'm sorry Dean. But maybe this is the best thing for everyone.
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He didn't know how long he was swimming before the yells from shore reached him. "There! That's the spot! He was there!" He filled his lungs and dove smoothly down into the water, searching. How long had it been? How many seconds had ticked off the stopwatch tracking Sam's chances of survival?
The water was deep in that spot, the lake bottom invisible somewhere below him. The water wasn't like he remembered it the couple of times he and Sam had come up here to swim. It was cloudy, visibility devastatingly limited, and fear twisted his stomach. How the hell was he supposed to find Sam in this soup?
He dove deeper, his head swiveling frantically in every direction. Shadows in the water pulled him first in one direction and then in another, hope spiking each time. But each time the form dissipated when he got close, nothing more than a phantom made up of debris in the cloudy lake. With each second that passed he stroked harder, pushed himself to move faster. He held on for as long as he could, small air bubbles trailing from his mouth. But tremendous effort and heart pounding fear claimed his air far too quickly and he shot back to the surface.
He gulped in a breath, scanning the surface of the water for a miracle. Any sign of his brother.
Who was he kidding. Winchesters didn't get miracles. The children were still huddled together on the shore and a couple of them shook their heads. They hadn't seen Sam again. "Damn, damn, damn." He didn't want to think about how far he was drifting as he searched. Dean comforted himself with the thought that the currents were probably taking his little brother in the same direction.
It was a cold comfort when he dropped back into the murky water. He hung suspended in the liquid, turning himself in a circle, his throat tightening as reality began to sink in. The lake stretched off around him, looking as endless as the ocean. His little brother was lost somewhere in the shifting patterns of light and dark, alone and in trouble. Maybe dy—no no no no…he was not going there. He wasn't going to let the hopelessness and grief that were building inside of him take over. This was his little brother for Christ's sake. The pain in the ass that it was his responsibility to take care of…his joy to take care of. The one true spot of light in his whole freakin whacked out life.
He wasn't giving up on the most important thing in his world. His arms and legs propelled him into the dark below him. The quiet was absolute, the shadows deepening. A lighter patch caught his eye, a big enough contrast with the water around it to make it stand out. He realized he was grasping at straws, but what else was there?
His face screwed up in confusion as he neared. The light moved, flickered. It wasn't a single light, it was points of light. Shifting, seemingly reaching for him and then retracting, drawing him forward. He followed without hesitation, kicking harder, suddenly desperate to catch up to the flowing mass of radiance as they led him farther, deeper.
The flickering lights stilled, surrounding something in the water. Dean's heart beat triple time as he neared. This wasn't possible…but Dean didn't care. He wasn't going to waste time trying to figure it out, he was just going to accept the priceless gift being given to him.
Translucent figures, small, lit from within, moved around Sam's slowly drifting body. None touched him, they just hovered in a shifting pattern that bathed Sam in a soft glow. Dean's mind clicked over to that small segment that John had taught both boys to use long ago. The segment that let him see unbelievable things and just tuck them away to think about later. The segment that let him keep on moving even when shock would have stopped most 'normal' people.
Dean shot forward, the creatures' radiance allowing him to drink in the sight of his brother even in the darkest shadows of the lake. He looked like he was sleeping, sitting upright in the water with his hair a soft fan waving lazily around his head. He looked so peaceful, his expression relaxed and almost contented. Dean had never realized how heavily their life weighed on Sam, how constant tension and fear shaded his features. With them gone Sammy just looked so damn young.
He pulled Sam towards him and wrapped his arm around him, hugging his brother's back against his own chest. Dean kicked them upwards, fighting the drag of the loose limbed weight in his arms. A huge and heavy rag doll with no signs of life.
They broke the surface in a splash of water. The currents moving through the lake had pushed them in an arc that kept them parallel to the shore and relief was a quick burst in Dean's chest. The fear had been heavy that they would come up much farther out in the lake, much farther from any chance to help Sam. John had made sure both boys were competent at water rescue, but deep water rescue breathing without any type of float was beyond their training. It was a unique type of torture to feel Sam's limp body in his arms, to know that his chest wasn't moving and there was nothing Dean could do about it yet. He settled onto his back with Sam held to his chest and threw everything he had into kicking them towards shore.
He closed his eyes as one hand crept to Sam's neck. How long had it been since he saw Sam having trouble breathing? Time had stretched oddly during the panic of the rescue, and Dean prayed his perception of too long…too long…too long…was wrong. That the reality had been no more than a minute or two. His fingers pressed into the cool skin on the side of Sam's neck and his eyes began to burn when he felt a light thrum against his fingertips. It was slow, and faint, but it was there.
"That's it Sammy, you stay with me." He kept up a soft stream of whispers as he quickly covered the distance to the beach. Sam had to know Dean was there. That his big brother would take care of him, could never hate him. That Dean had his back…finally. He snorted out a bitter laugh at that thought, too little, too late floating in the back of his mind. He'd screwed up beyond all comprehension, but his little brother shouldn't have to pay for it.
It was almost a surprise when his kicking feet began to scrape across a solid surface. He'd tuned out everything except the effort of moving and the feel of the still body in his arms. He was numb to the cries from shore when he pulled his feet under him and shifted his grip to cradle his brother in his arms.
The little baby he'd held this way filled his mind. He could barely hold Sam now. With an arm under his knees and the other supporting his back Sam hung limply in his arms, one arm dangling down and his head hanging back. Dean looked at the pale face, the long…unmoving…column of Sam's throat and his eyes blurred with tears. He'd promised to always protect that baby boy. To always hold him safe and close.
What had he done? Oh dear God…what had he done?
He pushed through the water, exhaustion clawing at him as he continued to move doggedly towards shore. He was dimly aware of the sound of splashing as someone rushed towards him, but he wouldn't pull his eyes from the slice of beach in front of him. The spot where he would lay Sam down. If his brother couldn't breathe it was simple. He would breathe for him. He would give him every breath, give him anything, to keep his brother with him.
Arms were there, strong arms reaching to take his brother away from him, and Dean clutched Sam's limp form tight against his chest in a sudden panic. His eyes skewed sideways to meet the eyes of the man trying to steal Sam from him and anger was a white hot poker spearing his chest.
His face twisted in a rage so strong that the other man took a step back. "You don't touch him!" he hissed. "You've done enough! Just stay away from us!"
Dean looked away, not allowing himself to be shocked by the emotions clawing at the features of the normally stone faced John Winchester. The absolute terror and guilt that seemed to cloak the man.
"Dean…" John's voice was halting, pleading.
"No," Dean wouldn't look at him, wouldn't stop walking. He shook his head, denying his father. "No. This is your fault. This is our fault. I believed in you…and look…look at…what we did…"
He covered the last few feet in silence, stumbling as he stepped from the water and his feet scuffed through the coarse sand. NO! He couldn't do this now. He couldn't be weak in front of the almighty and powerful goddamn John Winchester.
-SN-SN-SN-SN-SN-
Away with us he's going
The solemned eyed
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace unto his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.
"Stolen Child" by W.B. Yeats