So, as I have the last chapter completed, I am going to post them both at the same time as a thank you for all the awesome reviews and for all those who stuck with the story. YOu guys are completely awesome!! Bambers;)
Chapter Fifty-Nine
"Sam's right you know." Markus leaned against the wall as his brothers spread out, surrounding Dean and Sam. "He's dead, so you'd figure he'd do us all a favor an' just stop breathing instead of dragging it out with pathetic apologies that no one really cares to hear."
"You wanna kill me, so just get it over with." Dean's grip tightened around Sam, determined that if they were to die, they would fall together. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one man's hand tense on the trigger of his gun, and braced himself for impact, but Markus held up a hand to stop him.
"Not yet, Dean." A smile lit across Markus' features as he shook his head. "I watched Raine die, so I'm not about to let you miss out on watching your brother die."
"You killed her, not me." Although it left him wide open to attack, Dean shifted his hold on Sam, trying to shield his brother with his own body.
"When he's dead, I'm gonna cut him apart, Dean," Markus cruelly taunted to the jeering laughter of his men. "An' I'm gonna force you watch before I kill you."
"You sonuvabitch," Dean hissed, upper lip curling into a snarl, "you lay one freakin' finger on him an' I'll rip you apart with my bare hands."
"Eight men with guns against one." Markus gestured toward each of his men, and smirked. "Forgive me if I don't tremble."
"I'm only gonna kill you, I don't give a flying fuck about the others."
Markus' smile faltered for the briefest of moments as their eyes met and locked on each other. "You'll never make it across the room alive."
"You'd be damn surprised what I can do if I set my mind to it," Dean retorted, baiting the older man into making a move.
"D-Dean," Sam mumbled, head lolling to the side then rolling to the front as his convulsions momentarily abated. "M-mom." He raised a trembling hand, and motioned toward Markus. "L-Lemme go."
"No, Sam," Dean uttered, now fully understanding why his mother had come, she knew Sam was going to die and wanted to take him away. "I gotcha, an' I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take you away . . . even her."
"S'okay . . . sh-she jus' wants – "
"I know what she wants, but she can just wait cause you're not goin' alone."
"Le' go." Sam gripped Dean's wrist, trying to pry his hand away from around his waist, but Dean tightened his hold.
"Said I wasn't letting go."
"Are you two just about done there?" Markus waved his gun at both Winchesters, before squeezing the trigger, the bullet slicing into Dean's upper arm before lodging into the plaster wall. Dean's arm jerked back, breaking his hold on Sam. Dropping to the floor, Sam pushed himself backward, away from Dean. "Thought I'd settle your little dispute for ya, so we can get on with the reason we're all here."
"Sh-she wants r-revenge, Dean," Sam murmured in a breathless whisper, his head then lolled to the side, eyelids closing.
The moment the words left Sam's mouth, an icy chill filled the air. Dean's breath left him in a hazy plume as the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Unmoving, he watched as the walls began to tremble, plaster crumbling to expose the rotted wood beneath.
"Markus, what's going on?" Owen called out, shying away from the crumbling walls.
"It's an old house," Markus eyed the younger man for a brief moment before refocusing his attention on Dean, "hold your ground."
"I don't think that's gonna be possible," Dean retorted with a cocky grin as his mother appeared before him. Smiling at Dean, she splayed out her arm, sending Owen crashing into the wall. She lightly traced her hand across the Dean's chest, fingertips coming to rest on the word Dominic had branded into his skin, and a warmth spread outward as his flesh began to tingle. As her hand fell away, it lightly brushed upon the brand of the cult, and once again he felt his flesh quiver.
"It's gonna be okay, Dean." Eyes filling with fierce anger, she spun and faced Markus. "These are my boys . . . . Mine." She crooked her head to the side, pinning another of Markus' men with a stare, and he crumbled to the ground, flames igniting and consuming him. His agonizing screams along with the sickly scent of burning flesh filled the air as she once again retrained her sights on Markus. "No one hurts them."
Aiming his gun on her, Markus fired repeatedly, but she raised her hand and wave it to the side, and the bullets strayed, ripping through two more of his men. "Wh-what the hell are you?" he stammered, staring first at his gun, then his fallen brothers, and finally at her.
"I'm just a mother who's protecting her children . . . an' God help the person who hurts my boys." Lifting her hand, she wiggled her fingers, and Owen rose from the ground, legs and arms flailing as she drew back her arm, and forcefully whipped it forward, sending him sailing headlong through the air. Slamming into the opposing wall, Owen's neck snapped awkwardly to the side, the cult member's screams cut short as several jagged bones pierced through his neck, blood spurting and spilling down his chest.
"Oh, don't even think about it." Mary spun on her heel to face one of the men behind Dean, and shook her head as his finger tensed on the trigger of his gun. Closing her hand, she drew it toward her chest, and electrical cords ripped from the wall, snaked a trail toward the man and coiled around him. Sparks popped and sizzled, lights growing dim as the older man jerked and twitched. Gray smoke rose from his fingertips and feet as he screamed and cried in agony. Crumpling to the ground, he burst into flames. Brilliant fiery light licked at his charred skin as his cries quickly died away.
The sound of Sam choking and gasping for air, drew Dean's attention away from the dead man still jerking and twitching on the floor, and he rushed to his brother's side. Hastily dropping to his knees, he wrapped an arm around Sam and turned him on his side as he violently heaved up the remaining contents of his stomach.
"Come on, Sammy, don't you die on me now." Tears blurred Dean's vision as Sam thrashed in his arms, gagging and spitting up blood. Pulling Sam into his arms, he fisted a hand into Sam's shaggy hair, and hugged him even tighter. "Don't you let him die on me, Mom . . . you hear me, he has to live."
"I'm not gonna let him die, Dean," Mary softly murmured, her sights now on the two men edging their way toward Markus and the front door.
Her head snapped to the side, and narrowing her eyes on an old gilded mirror that hung above the fireplace, the glass cracked and shattered. With a slight twist of her wrist, the pieces of jagged reflective glass hurtled through the air, while she splayed her other hand out to forcefully pushed one man backward into the wall. Splintered shards of glass pierced the man's eyes, driving his head into the wall as another large jagged piece impaled his throat.
"Markus, we gotta get the hell outta here!" the last of the cult member's shouted as he dove behind him in an attempt to shield himself from Mary's wrath. Making a run for the door, he stopped short as a loud crack issued from somewhere near the stairs, and Dean glanced up in time to see one of the banister railings hurtle like a javelin through the air. Another loud crack followed a dull thud as the sharpened wood punctured the man's chest with such force it hurtled him into the door, breaking it off of the hinges.
"And now for you," Mary turned her sights to Markus.
"No," Dean hissed, carefully laying Sam on the floor. "For all he did . . . for everything we've suffered, this fight is mine."
"Dean, please," Mary uttered, casting a tearful glance in his direction, but he shook his head.
"No." He shot to his feet and advanced on Markus.
Markus leveled his gun, but as he made to fire his weapon Mary splayed out an arm, ripping the gun from his hand. Metal clanked against plaster as the gun smacked into the wall and clattered to the floor.
"You really think you can beat me, Dean?" Markus taunted as they both circled, each vying for the first blow. "I beat your brother – whipped him like the lowliest of dogs, and he believed it was you." He smirked as Dean flinched. "So I really did you a favor by poisoning him cause that little memory would've stuck in his brain," he jabbed at his temple, "like a cancer eating away at him, always wondering if there wasn't some truth to it."
"You bastard!" Dean charged, feigning a blow to the stomach with his left fist, and as Markus made to block, he slammed his other fist into the man's face. Markus' head snapped back, blood splattering from his nose.
Recovering quickly, Markus deflected a jab to his ribcage, grabbed Dean's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and rammed a fist into Dean's side. Expelling a rush of air, Dean raised a bent knee, drove his leg backward, smashing it into Markus' knee. As Markus flew forward, releasing his hold on Dean's arm, Dean brought his arm forward, slamming it backward into the older man's face.
Markus flew backward, knocking into and falling over the coffee table. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed Dean, catching him in the midsection, knocking them both to the ground. Markus rolled, leapt on top of Dean, and slammed a fist into his face. Dean's head snapped to the side, and just as hastily snapped back as another fist connected with his cheek.
As Markus made to deliver the next blow, Dean gripped hold of his wrist, yanking him forward as he pushed off the floor with both feet, kneeing Markus in the back. Markus shot forward, face slamming into the ground. Rolling, Dean sprang to his feet. Wiping away the blood trailing from his mouth and nose with the back of his hand, Markus followed.
"He's dying, Dean," Markus jeered, nudging his head toward Sam as he spit out a mouthful of blood. "I gave him a lethal dose, so no matter what you do, he's a dead man."
Dean's attention diverted to his little brother for the briefest of moments, but it was enough. Markus charged, smashing a beefy fist into Dean's gut, followed by an upper cut to the jaw. Air leaving him a heated rush, Dean struggled to draw in a breath as he deflected the next blow.
Catching hold of the Markus' wrist, Dean twisted his arm, and brought his elbow down hard against the older man's forearm. As Markus made to pull away, Dean gripped hold of his shoulders, pushing them downward as he drove his knee into Markus' stomach.
Stumbling backward, Markus gasped for breath. Not giving him a moment to recover, Dean rammed into him, driving him backward into the wall. Cocking back a fist, he bashed it into Markus' face, drew back and delivered another powerful blow to his jaw.
With a firm hold on Markus's throat, Dean's hand slipped to his side, and he unsheathed his knife. Raising the blade above his head, Dean drove the knife downward, but stopped short as he heard his mother scream out his name.
"Don't, Dean," she pleaded, stepping forward to place a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You're not like them. You're a good man, don't let him make you into a killer."
"Look what he's done to Sam, an' tell me he doesn't deserve to die," Dean gritted out through clenched teeth, keeping his sights pinned on Markus. "It's not murder when it's justified . . . more than justified." His grip tightened around the hilt of the blade. "Hell, you killed seven guys without batting an eye – gruesome, brutal murders, so I think I have the right to take just one life for all we've endured."
"I'm sorry, I can't let you do that, Dean."
With a flick of her wrist, the knife flew from Dean's hand, clattering to the floor several feet away. Before Dean could think to react, he was thrown backward to the floor, coming to rest a few feet away from Sam. Dean struggled to rise to his feet, but his muscles froze, locked into place as his mother raised her hand, lifting Markus off of the ground.
"Mom, no!" Dean growled, helplessly watching as the older cult member's shirt ripped wide open. "Please let me do this for Sam . . . it's my job to protect him."
"You branded my boys," she uttered, ignoring Dean as she trailed her fingertips across Markus' chest, his screams echoing throughout the room as fiery letters burned their way into his flesh. After reading the two words in turn, Dean yanked back his collar, and lowered his head, a faint smile gracing his features when he saw that she'd removed the word from his chest, and knew she had done the same for Sam as well. "You beat them like dogs . . . your own words, not mine." As she spoke, long slashing gashes criss-crossed Markus' chest. Screaming in agony, his body writhed and arched forward, leaving Dean with little doubt that his back was taking a brutal beating as well. "And you poisoned my baby boy." With a vicious jerk of her wrist, Markus' neck snapped to the side, bones snapping grotesquely as one last scream ripped from his lips.
One by one, the cult members' bodies burst into riotous flames, intense heat searing their flesh, turning skin and bone to gray ash, but leaving the floorboards unmarred. Dean shielded his eyes as the flames grew brighter and brighter. As abruptly as the fires ignited, they died away, a sudden gusting wind replacing them to scatter the ashes to nothingness, and then that, too, died away.
Within a breath, Mary was kneeling at Dean's side, taking his hand in hers. "It's over, Dean." She leaned in and lightly kissed his forehead. "I have to go, but before I do I wanted you to know that protecting Sam doesn't mean you don't matter. Your life is so very special to me." Placing her hand beneath Dean's chin, she lifted his head so they were looking each other in the eyes. "Your heart's so good and I've watched as you've turned yourself inside out, nearly getting yourself killed several times, to save people." Tears shimmered in her bluish-gray eyes as she drew in a shaky breath, and continued, "You are my greatest accomplishment, and I thank God every day that you were born, and I got to be a part of your life even if it was only for the shortest amount of time." She wrapped her arms around Dean, and hugged him tightly. "I love you so much, Dean," she whispered against his ear. "Always remember that . . . always remember that you're more than just a soldier in a war not of your making. You're my son . . . my baby boy, and you deserve happiness in your life."
"I don't want you to go." Dean gripped a firm hold of her, fearing if he let go she would vanish from his sight forever.
"I have to go." She gently pulled away from Dean, and once again looked him in the eyes. "But you'll have Sam, an' he loves you so much, even if neither of you can ever manage to say the words." Smiling, she brushed a hand through his hair. "An' you have your father . . . he loves you, too, Dean. He'd give his life for you . . . don't ever doubt that." She bit pensively at her lower lip as if she wanted to say something, but then shook her head and smiled through her tears. "John's a good man, even if he doesn't always do the right things."
"Sam'll be alright?" Dean asked, wiping away a lone tear trailing down his cheek, then reached over and dried her tears as well.
"One of the side effects of Water Hemlock poisoning is retrograde amnesia, so when he wakes up he won't remember anything that's happened the last few months."
"He really won't remember being abducted by Dominic?"
"No," Mary shook her head, "Although over time he will regain bits and pieces of memories, and when he does, promise me you'll have that mother of all chick flick moments you promised him tonight."
"I promise," he replied with a nod.
"And there's one more thing that maybe you can do for me?" She looked hopefully at him, and when he nodded, she continued, "You've always tried to be just like your father . . . you wear his jacket, love classic cars, and also listen to his music . . . ." her voice trailed off as she lovingly gazed at Sam for a moment, and then refocused her attention on Dean. "Taped beneath the passenger's seat in the Impala is a cassette. Your father would sometimes play it when he was alone and wanted to think of me. It's my favorite music . . . so when the day comes when you talk to Sam about what happened here, I want you to play it and remember me . . . remember I love you an' I'll never be all that far away from you."
"I promise." Tears falling unchecked, Dean pulled his mom into his embrace, hugging her fiercely to him. "I love you, Mom." His hands fell loosely to the sides as his mother faded away.