Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.
As ever, thank you for setting favourites/alerts - I must be doing something right!
The idea of "Why do terrible things happen to good people?" just kept coming up everywhere I turned over the last couple of weeks of writing this. Then the unspeakable happened yesterday, and my heart grieves for the deaths of some many - and as a parent, for so many young - in the attacks in Norway.
The Three Faces of Winchester - Chapter Seven
Previously:
From the tapes, he soon recognized the gargantuan-sized figure of his brother talking at length with a young woman. Dean watched with growing unease as he realized that some sort of electrical distortion obscured the faces of both Sam and his companion throughout each recording.
Feeling nauseous, Dean headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. As he looked up at himself in the mirror, he suddenly caught sight of his reflection as it truly was.
Running his hand through his long dark hair, Sam turned away from the mirror, and stepped out into the light of day and the long walk back to Burkitsville.
"Why do terrible things happen to good people?"
"He who does not punish evil, commands it to be done." Leonardo da Vinci
Sam had made his way back to Burkitsville where he had finally managed to meet up with his brother. Dean had initially been a little standoffish, although he didn't say anything to Sam, he was still freaked by the video footage; in fact he been in such daze that he couldn't even remember the drive back in the Impala.
Luckily, there was nothing quite like killing a fertility god masquerading as a scarecrow to bring kin closer together - truly a family that hunts together stays together - and the brothers had formed an unspoken, albeit still uneasy, truce and moved onto their next hunt.
This had turned out to be a rawhead, not a creature they'd encountered before, but all of Sam's usual diligent research had indicated that electrocution would be a particularly effective means of killing it. And so it was that Dean found himself chasing the rawhead through a flooded cellar when, having almost cornered it, he slipped and the monster doubled back and turned on him.
In a moment of pure unthinking madness, Dean had fired his specially customized Taser into the creature before it could tear at his flesh with its razor sharp teeth and claws. A moment too late he realized that he was half-reclining an inch-deep in water with the same beast he'd just shot. Dean felt a massive blow to his chest and found himself sliding down the wall on the opposite side of the room.
When he came to, all he could smell was an overpowering stench of a combination of wet dog, burnt hair, and roast pork. He felt totally rung out, like every last ounce of strength had been drained from his body. Somehow he managed to drag himself up and out of the cellar and out on to the street, before a sudden overpowering wave of giddiness overcame him and he felt himself start to fall. Mercifully he was already unconscious by the time his head forcefully struck the sidewalk.
Blearily Dean drifted in and out of near-consciousness over several days, until finally he woke once more to find himself in a hospital room. He'd had an eventful life and so strange unexpected black outs, and waking up in new and unusual environments, was not exactly unknown for him. This was usually thanks in part to a fondness for hard liquor and the occasional case of concussion, but he did normally get the odd flash of memory or at least some sense of movement. But this felt… serious.
After another period of haziness that could have been minutes or hours, a doctor was rounded up to give him the bad news; thanks to the electrocution he now had a severe heart condition and with that had a very high likelihood of a soon and sudden death. Dean took the information with his usual brand of calm stoicism, firmly pushing the momentary flash of panic he'd felt deep down – his own version of a mental salt and burn.
He sank back in the hospital bed closing his eyes and just lay there feeling strangely numb. For several long moments it felt as if he was slipping away from reality.
Sammy became suddenly aware. Feeling abandoned and unprotected he was absolutely petrified. Not knowing what to do, he started to sob uncontrollably. A familiar presence was suddenly at hand and so reassured that his protector had finally returned, Sammy slipped back into his endless peaceful slumber.
Dean sensed, rather than heard, his brother's return even before he spoke.
"Dean, I came as soon as I could," said Sam, his voice small and liquid sounding.
"It's alright, Sam. It'll all be alright," Dean lied comfortingly.
Later the next day Dean signed himself out of hospital and retreated to a motel room like an injured animal ready to die.
Sam knew that it was his brother's nature, even unconsciously, to protect others from hurt, especially at the expense of Dean's own happiness, and he could definitely feel his brother pushing him out in a misguided attempt to protect him.
In desperation Sam turned to his father for help and reassurance, but, as usual, ended up with the answer service.
"Hey, Dad. It's Sam here. I've got some bad news... it's Dean. He's sick, and the doctors say there's nothing they can do," said Sam, his voice cracking. He felt angry because he'd promised himself that he would be strong and that he wouldn't start sobbing again when it came to trying to explain the situation to his father.
He took a deep calming breath; I gotta be strong for Dean, he reprimanded himself.
"But they don't know the things we know, right? So don't you worry cause I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better," he promised forcefully.
While Sam never heard back from his father, he did fulfill on his promise much sooner than he could ever have possibly imagined when he discovered Roy Le Grange.
Almost before Dean was aware of what was happening, Sam had driven them across three state lines to somewhere in backwater Nebraska, and so he wasn't particularly impressed to find their final destination was a large white tent hosting a faith healer.
Dean's mood did lift somewhat when an attractive blonde called Layla caught his eye, but before he could say more than a few flirty words, her presumably sick mother had dragged her away and Sam had insisted that they sit in a different section toward the front of the tent.
Within minutes Dean's smart mouth had drawn the attention of the preacher. Roy was astounded – he had been doing the good Lord's healing work for a long time, but he had never sensed anyone quite like the young man in front of him – his soul oddly twisted, or doubled? It was almost like that of a pregnant woman near to term, but with startling bright flashes of light under streaks of dark – like a halogen lamp shining through a dirty window. He knew instantly that he would be healing this man today and so called him to the stage.
As Roy roused the congregation in prayer, Dean felt an odd uncomfortable pressure in his chest and a bone-numbing chill that made the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. An intense wave of dizziness overtook him, making him crumple to floor at the healer's feet.
Feeling short of breath and with an overwhelming sense of anxiety, he was suddenly able to see a cadaverous old man with white hair and in a black suit standing beside Roy. The old man was staring straight at the preacher, glowering at him malevolently, before turning his gaze onto Dean with a look of surprise, as if not quite sure what to make of him.
The spirit, or whatever it was, vanished and so too did the crushing pain in the center of Dean's chest as slipped into unconsciousness.
Dean awoke in a local hospital, wondering at what point exactly he'd become a chick, all this fainting he'd been doing recently was getting old.
The examining doctor gave Dean a full, clean bill of health and was astounded at first at the apparent miraculous recovery, although it wasn't long before he decided that the original diagnosis must have been wrong.
Dean was naturally skeptical, as good things just don't happen to Winchesters. So when a young nurse let slip that a young, well-known local man of previously perfect health had died of a heart attack it set Dean's spider senses tingling.
With some help from Sam, Dean found it didn't take much digging to find that the name of the young man was Marshall Hall, and that he had died unexpectedly of heart failure at exactly the same time as Dean had made his own miraculous recovery.
A quick Google found a headline "Openly Gay Teacher Wins Lawsuit" and an uploaded YouTube video entitled "It Gets Better". Dean watched Marshall explain how high school can seem like an unending walk through a desert of loneliness, bullying and despair. Marshall went to say that it was just a phase, unlike his homosexuality, that it had a definite end date and would one day pass to become nothing more than a distant bad memory.
Dean's eyes glistened and he gave a single manful sniff in case Sam should be watching him. His own school experience had been tough, albeit for different reasons. He had often felt overwhelmed with the responsibility of looking after Sam, he'd felt alienated from the other kids, and he had always thought he had no one to turn to. He realized now that although he'd been reluctant to talk to his father given the nature of their relationship, he could always have talked with his brother, Pastor Jim, or even Uncle Bobby.
He wished he'd had someone like Marshall to give him hope. The man had made a stand for what he believed in, even though it had made his own life more difficult, in order to give help to others. In his own way the man was a hero.
Dam rubbed the bridge of his nose trying, and failing, to ease away some of the sorrow and tension that he felt.
It was then that Dean decided that he needed to return to the preacher for an explanation.
"Why? Why me?" demanded Dean. He looked around the faith healer's tent and gestured at the crowd who all seemed to share the same look of desperation on their faces.
"Out of all the sick people who come here and actually believe in God, why'd you choose to save me?" asked Dean, his voice tight.
The preacher paused, then smiled sympathetically, "Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest."
"What did you see in my heart?" asked Dean, confused, thinking for a moment that the Reverend was speaking literally.
"God took my eyes, eyes that for most part people never truly see with, and instead He gave me a gift to look, really look, into people's souls," Roy tried to explain.
"I looked into your heart and, despite that wiseacre mouth of yours, I could see that you were special. I saw a young man with a great and holy purpose, a righteous job to do, one that's barely even started.
"It's not so much that I asked God to heal you, as He commanded me to do so."
Dean broke into the church that night. He just couldn't accept that he might be worthy of special attention, and the idea of somehow being chosen by God absolutely freaked him out. He knew his lot in life, and it was easier for him to believe that there was something wrong about the faith healer, than that the universe had suddenly decided that Dean Winchester deserved a break.
Sam stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say, and in all truthfulness he knew that growing up he'd always just expected his older brother to look after him, to keep him safe, and to protect him from….
He didn't finish the thought, distracted by the discovery of an altar of obviously dark magic.
The preacher's wife, Sue Ann, appeared in the doorway. "Get away from there," she screamed in anger.
Undaunted, Dean swept the contents of the altar to the floor with a single determined swipe of his arm. As the spell broke the spirit of the old man appeared, although he seemed very slightly less aged than before. From her gasp, Dean could tell that the preacher's wife could see him too.
"What have you done?" Sue Ann cried at Dean in horror.
"Please," she begged the spirit, who seemed to be rapidly aging in reverse and now looked to be in his seventies, "Take me, but spare my husband, he's a good man. He does the Lord's work."
"He was a devout and pious healer intended for sainthood," said the spirit in sorrow, now looking like a man in his sixties, "but he's corrupted by association. He knew in his heart that something was wrong, but his love for you made him turn a blind eye to your evil."
Sue Ann's face showed the horror she felt in her heart, everything she had done had been for the greater good, she had been so sure that she was chosen and had been carrying out God's plan.
"Hypocrite, you dare claim to know the will of God, and instead you use Him to justify your own petty insecurities and prejudices," accused the reaper reading her mind.
Moaning in horror, anguish and even remorse for what she had done, Sue Ann made no move to stop the reaper from ending her life.
The Reaper, now looking like a man in his forties, turned on Dean and stared at him intently, "Thank you for freeing me," he said sincerely, "All I can offer in return is this: the players on both sides of the board determined that you should live. An innocent man had to die to make this happen - that should tell you something about the morals of those involved," he hissed before disappearing.
The following morning found Dean standing outside the faith healer's tent, debating what, if anything, he should tell the reverend.
Layla came out suddenly, shaking, her eyes full of tears, "Hey," she called to Dean.
"Hey, you okay?"
Layla nodded, "He finally called me, and laid his hand on me, but... nothing happened."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, "I feel ungrateful… Did you hear his wife died? Stroke."
Dean nodded, "Yeah, I heard. He doesn't deserve what's happened."
Layla gave a single hiccup like sob and Dean instantly, instinctively, drew her into a hug and just held her for a long moment.
"It must be rough. To believe in something so much, and have it disappoint you like that," he added gently.
Layla took a ragged breath and stepped back from the embrace, looked up at Dean and gave small, grateful smile.
"If you're gonna have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't," she said sadly.
"I believe in the sun even if it isn't shining,
I believe in love even when I am alone,
I believe in God even when He is silent."
-Author unknown