"Say again?!" Marcus yelled through the barely open door as he stared at the figure before him. The man clutched an old piece of paper which was as soaked through as he himself was, his grip on it so tight that his fingers were blanched white.

Dean took a calming breathe and tried again, " I said what do you know about time travel? You had this paper posted on that red bricked wall down at the French Corner." Dean said a bit louder this time through the rain. He lifted the paper closer to the man's face for him to read.

Dean glared at Marcus as he squinted through the paper, he could've sworn he saw a sense of alarm flit across the old man's face before it returned back to being annoyed, "Boy I don't know what ya have been drinking to believe that shit but I sure want some of it, now git the hell of my property." He said as he attempted to shut the door.

"Wait!" Dean said as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame. Marcus looked up, now looking more angered than annoyed. "Just tell me if it's true or if it's some sick joke."

"Now you listen ya gumshoe, ya come at this hour like a freak unleashed askin' me 'bout shit you see on a damn TV?! That paper ain't mine, but I can tell ya it ain't real!"

"It's got your address and your name's Marcus, don't try to blame this on some coincidence, its New Orleans we're talking about, nothing's a damn coincidence around here." Dean retorted, his voice as strong as the raging clouds above him.

He ain't budgin', the old man thought, "Alright alright I had it posted. There ya happy now? Was an old joke back in the days when people believed in this kinda crap, forgot I even had it there. I would'a torn it down if I knew I'd have people knockin' at my door at 3 AM because of it."

"Just tell me the truth." Dean said tiredly, "tell me if it's possible." Please, it's all I got left, he thought.

"Hate to break it to ya but this whole thing ain't real, I needed the cash, ya don't how much money desperate people are willing to spend to undo shit. I tell ya this though, whatever crap you had in the past, you just gotta deal with it in the now." He said as he pointed down with his index through the slightly open door, indicating a present moment.

Dean's gaze shifted from Marcus's pointing finger, then to the floor, trying to figure out what to do with this revelation, where to go from here, what does this mean for him? What door is there left to knock on?

He slowly raised his head back up and gazed at the old man who he had hoped to be his savior, his redemption, his bridge to bring Sammy back. "You don't fuck with people like that, bring their hopes up only to crush them even more." Dean said as he threw the paper at the man's direction. "You… I… I thought I could go back, really thought I could." He said as tears began to well in his eyes as if imitating the rain that fell around him.

"Sorry kid." Marcus said, suddenly feeling sympathetic for this man.

"No, I shoulda known better, I don't usually fall for this shit. I'm sorry I knocked at this hour." He slowly lifted his hands from the doorframe.

"You go someplace warm yeah? Storm might get worse." Marcus said with sympathetic eyes, "Goodbye now." He said before he hesitantly closed the door.

Dean gazed at the closed door, a small laugh bubbling from his lips at the situation, at how he had let himself to believe this bullshit, Sam would've laughed his ass off at this one.

He slowly turned around and gazed at the black raining void ahead of him, it was suffocating. With no hope left to cling on to, the adrenaline evaporated from his system as if sensing that it wasn't needed anymore. It left him stranded and hollow and the pain in his leg returned like an old friend.

I gave it a shot Dean thought to himself as he gazed at the sky, droplets piercing his eyes but he didn't give a damn. Pierce my heart why don't you?Pierce my fucking heart! he yelled within the barriers of himself.

His body was shutting down, he had no energy left, no shelter from the rain, no food in his system, no tending to his injury, no restful sleep, and no Sam.

He was about to take the first step down the porch when his left leg gave out, collapsing under him, tumbling him to the hard, wet ground. The darkness took him, his last conscious thought as he passed out being one of overwhelming helplessness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I thought I asked that damn paper boy to remove all those posters! Marcus thought to himself as he walked down the hallway, trundling his IV stand along with him back to his room.

The last time someone came to him asking about time travel had been 7 years ago. It was a man named Will, wanted to go back in time to save his buddy at work who he had killed by mistake in a construction accident, but Marcus had no choice but to reject the request, was trying to save him by doing so. Unfortunately, his guilt-ridden man didn't see eye to eye on this one and ended up throwing himself off a bridge a few days after the encounter.

Marcus beat himself up after that, he knew that he was the reason behind Will's suicidal death. He loaded his brains with booze, rum, whiskey, vodka, you name it. But he also knew one thing: what's in the past should stay in the past. He had to learn this fact the hard way. One present death was worth the incurring wrath of an altered past. He had been doing this Will guy a favor, not that Will could understand, of course, but either way, the damn the guilt hurt like a son of a bitch.

He'll thank me later, he'll understand, Marcus thought of the compelling stranger who had roused him so abruptly to wakefulness, not sure if he was comforting himself, hoping that it wouldn't be a repetition of what happened with Will. What's in the past should stay in the past he repeated to himself like a mantra.

He placed his IV stand right next to his bedside, tugged the tubing with one hand so he wouldn't tangle in them as he climbed into the worn out covers. Just as he was about to slip in, he heard a loud thump from outside. He was about to ignore it but it was too close to his door. Perhaps it was the man needing some shelter? or maybe it was the neighbor's dog? He questioned himself. Whatever it is, it bothered him and he wasn't going to sleep easy without making sure of the source.

Curiosity killed the damn cat Marcus James he said to himself as he marched out the hallway once again.

He reached the door, IV stand in front of him like he was using it as a weapon. He opened the door slowly and gazed ahead, barely saw a thing from the haze of rain, "Kid? Kid you out there?" he yelled, but the only sound that replied to him was thunder. Must be the damn dogs then, he thought to himself, he made a mental note to give that neighbor a beat down on this noisy beast he called a pet. He was about to close the door when lightning flashed, giving him a glimpse of the hunched figure on the ground.

"Kid?" The old man said but he got no reply. Dammit, unplugged the IV from the permanent injection in his hand and left the stand inside, grabbed a jacket and sheltered his head with it as he walked through the rain towards the crumbled form. "Kid ya with me?" he said as he crouched down. He shook the stranger's shoulders but to no avail. Lightning bolted once again on cue to show the paleness of the kid's face. "Shit!" he said out loud as he took off his jacket and covered the stranger's trembling body with it.

"My God did ya walk all the way down here?! You as pale as a damn cloud!" He smacked his cheeks a couple of times and Dean stuttered, his lashes fluttered weakly, lips mumbled through barely open eyes.

"There ya go, that's its, come out of it kid come out of it." He encouraged.

"L…eave me… h… here."

"You kidding me?! Son you'd die in this weather!" He said while trying to lift Dean's torso from the merciless ground.

"Th… That's the… p…point" Dean said through chattered teeth.

"Well then let's look at it from my point okay?" He said, suddenly determined to drag the man inside. "Can you make it up?" Marcus asked but got no reply, "yeah, wasn't expecting it anyways." He placed his shoulders around Dean's chest while being careful not to rattle his IV injection, and with all the strength he had saved through the years, he dragged Dean towards the house.

"I'm too old for this shit!" Marcus said between grunts, the barely-conscious stranger was reduced to a combination of uncoordinated, shivering limbs. Once he dragged him completely in, he landed tiredly on his behind and shoved the door with his leg to keep the cold from seeping in.

Marcus watched breathlessly as Dean started to shiver more against the warmth that attacked his freezing body. He curled to his side and tried to grab at his left leg unconsciously, which hinted to Marcus that this was the man's source of pain. He lifted the hem of Dean's jeans to inspect it and had to gasp at what he saw.

"Shit boy you been walking on this piece of crap you call a leg?!" The skin was a mixture of blue, yellow, red, green, heck, it even had some damn purple! Nothing appeared broken but it still seemed like a nasty injury that hadn't been tended to. "What kinda riot did ya get yerself into kid?" Marcus said as gazed at Dean's pale face.

Marcus brought his nursing hands towards the welt, just as his fingers made contact with skin, the man's back arched in pain.

"Don't!" Dean cried out between pants.

"I'm sorry kid I'm sorry," he said. "I ain't touchin' it alright? Let's just get ya warm and comfortable first waddaya say?"

He got back to his feet, the feeding tube in his stomach ached with the exertion but he had to forget about that for now, he had to fix this, he owed Will this much. He continued to drag the barely conscious man towards his room which was luckily right around the corner. With much grumbles, groans, curses, and some support from Dean, he was able to have him placed on the bed. Dean was becoming restless at this point, "S..Stop!" Dean weakly retorted as Marcus returned his attention to the leg.

"Shhh take it easy boy, just relax and close yer eyes while I take care of this", Marcus comforted as he continued his tending. He was determined to save him, he won't shoo him off like how he did Will, he learned once, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, "I ain't holding another coffin on my conscious ya hear?" he said out loud.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm, dizzy, and confused in one bundle, that's how Dean felt when he slowly began to open his heavy-lidded eyes. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed dryly, then sluggishly turned his head to the side trying to grasp his surroundings. There on the right, was some old man reading through a book, "B... Bobby?" He croaked.

The man removed his glasses and approached him, his eyes gradually focused on the man's features, Okay so it's not Bobby Dean thought to himself.

"Hey there kid, hate to break it to ya but I ain't Bobby," he said as he approached Dean with a glass of water along with some pain pills.

"Marcus?" Dean whispered hoarsely. Marcus nodded as he handed Dean the glass. He lifted himself a bit to drink down the drug, the water soothed his deserted throat like a river, "What happened?" he asked, grateful that his voice returned to normal.

"Was gonna ask you the same question, what's yer name kid?" Marcus answered his question with a question.

It was the first time that Dean got the chance to really look at Marcus, he seemed to be around 50, which made him feel guilty for having the old man drag his limp body all the way over to the bed. His hair was thrown in every wrong direction, a mixture of grey and white, some dark strands still grew here and there as if rioting against old age. His wrinkles mapped whatever hardship he went through like an Atlas, his lips were thin like they had shriveled along the years, and his eyes, his eyes were as deep as the ocean.

As Dean's eyes gained more clarity, he noticed the other layer of Marcus which he missed out earlier, he saw the pain, noticed the yellow hue to his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the slight tremble following him around like a ghost. As if he thought the old man couldn't look any sicker, he spotted an IV tube dangling from his right arm which extended from some IV stand, and a feeding tube which crawled like a snake from a lousy brown shirt he was wearing. He felt so sorry.

"Name's Dean", he said when his eyes landed on Marcus's.

"Well then Dean, you almost passed out that's what happened, on my porch, at 3 AM in the damn morning. Leg had the color of a damn rainbow. I spread some ointment around that welt and bandaged it up good while your lights were out." He said with no hint of searching for appreciation.

Dean gave him a faltering smile, "Thank you... How long was I out?"

"I'd say about 2 hours, but heck you sure do a lotta sleep talkin'."

Panic flashed on Dean's face, "What… What did you hear?"

"Heard enough, you have issues with mud I can tell ya that. And let me take a wild guess here, but ya wanna go back in time to save this man called Sam, or Sammy, not sure which one ya go by, ya kept sayin' both names. Am I right?"

Dean gulped when the man said his brother's name, suddenly worried at what else he might've let slip while stuck in some feverish dream. He was about to prepare for a cover-up, an act, a lie, but damn he was too tired to figure out which mask to wear, which tall tale to use, his M.O. was in ruins. He was an open book and he couldn't gather the strength to close the damn cover.

Screw it.

"Yeah" he looked away when he answered, "No thanks to you." He said as his face hardened. He tried to straighten against the headboard and grimaced when his leg protested against the movement. "And that man, he was my brother." He clarified.

"So how did it happen?" He wanted to keep Dean talking, to keep him awake. The boy's nightmares seemed to have been hurting him more than that injured leg. " Was it a car accident? Did he get shot? Fell off some cliff? Construction site accident?" Marcus asked, the last guess tasted bitter on his lips.

"I killed him, failed to protect him."

"Killed him is one thing, failed to protect is another thing, ya do know that don't you?"

"Different mechanisms, same result." Dean said as he glared at Marcus, he wasn't fishing for counseling.

"Just sayin'" Marcus said as he lifted his arm in defense. "Ya gotta know one thing boy, happenings, no matter how nasty, no matter how hollow they leave ya, they always happen for a reason. That's life for ya."

Dean turned his head back straight, "Okay Oprah" . He cursed himself when his stomach let out a grumble against the hunger.

The man smiled at that, "I see that stomach doing the talkin' for ya. I tell ya what, how 'bout I bring ya something to eat eh? Word has it that I make the best chowder in this Jazzed up town."

"Sure," Dean said, not that he really cared. He wanted Marcus out, he already knew too much from his slip-ups, not to mention that he hated this so called Dr. Phil session.

"You stay awake till I get the chowder ready, don't be movin' that leg." He grunted as he lifted himself off the chair, resting too much of his weight on the IV cart, the surprising turn of events left him drained.

By the time the sounds of Marcus's steps and the cart wheels faded, Dean removed the covers to check on his leg. Marcus had done well playing nurse, bandages wrapped tightly as if to shield out the pain, and the minty smell of ointment calmed the ache that stalked him like a menace.

His eyes were unexpectedly captured by the wall on his left, it was covered with a generous amount of photos of different sizes, some were framed while others were held with pins. He was so intrigued by the collage he had to get up and take a closer look.

He took a deep breathe, swayed his right leg to the edge of the bed and dragged his left leg along with both hands. He then hopped on his good limb and reached his target which was thankfully less than 3 feet away, he placed both hands on each side of the wall to keep himself balanced.

Huh Dean thought to himself, there were black and white photos, sepia-hued photos , instant camera photos, Polaroid, even portrait paintings, as if each one was taken from a certain era. Dean took a closer look into each of the photos and noticed that there was one man repeated in each picture, was Marcus for sure, his hair was thrown in every direction as if he never touched a comb in his life.

Dean titled his head sideways as he spotted another finding, maybe the pain meds were making him see double, but throughout the photos, Marcus was blessed with the same age, probably late forties. He wore the same clothes even when the rest of the people around him changed fashion throughout the years. Heck, it was the same brown shirt he saw him wearing today, he was sure of it!

Odd much? He thought to himself.

He looked into each picture again and studies Marcus's face, his smile was vibrant in some pictures, but were pained in others, almost seemed like a grimace in those of the latest. In some instances, he was standing as tall as a soldier, but in others, he was hunched and weary like some disregarded man who accidentally got in the picture.

"I see you been movin' around" Marcus said, slightly anxious of what Dean was looking at. He balanced the chowder with one hand as he leaned on the IV stand with the other

"I was gonna say the same thing 'bout you." Dean shot back as he pointed at the scattered pictures. "You've been in every damn decade, and maybe it's the drugs playing with my mind, but you don't seem to be agin' in any of 'em"

"Think I gave ya too much ibuprofen."

"Bullshit."

"Watch your mouth boy."

But Dean ignored it, "Thought you said time travel wasn't real, this is a far cry for realism if you ask me Marcus." Dean said, wincing as his accidentally put too much weight on his left leg.

"Will you just sit down?" Marcus said as he pointed at his injured leg.

"Not until you explain this." Dean said as he pointed at three different pictures, each of a different era, each with Marcus looking exactly the same.

"Okay okay, I'll explain dammit."

"Oh God." Dean whispered, "So it's real? You time travelled didn't you?" Dean said as he took a few steps towards Marcus and almost falling in the process.

"Hold your horses boy! And sit down before ya fall down."

Dean sat on the chair near the wall, not because of his leg, he didn't give a crap about his leg. The overwhelming revelation that time travel could be real was just too heavy on him to walk with. He didn't even look at the chowder Marcus placed next to him, his stomach will have to wait, heck he'd been waiting for 2 damn months!

Dammit, Marcus thought. He swore that he would never speak of this gift, this curse he had inherited. It wasn't something he was proud to know of, definitely not to share. But then he looked at Dean, this broken man who he couldn't help but to care for. His green eyes that spoke to him before his mouth did, asked him, begged him for a rope, a glimpse of hope, a way to bring back his brother. How could he turn him down when he had the key? How can I? He asked himself.

"Back when I just turned 20." Marcus began, "My grandma, a strong woman who found her way amongst the witches of Louisiana, passed on an enchantment to each of her grandchildren as a keepsake. Me, considerin' myself the black sheep of the family, was granted with the time travel enchantment. 'See the world Marcus James' she'd tell me as she laid frail in her dying bed. That's the thing, it was only to see." Marcus said, giving more emphasis on the word see. "To learn, to explore, not to manipulate, not to change, not to undo. But we humans, you and me, we're never satisfied with observation aren't we?" He asked as he looked at Dean who broke the gaze at the heavy supposition.

"Ya know, truthfully, I never got it at first; I wasn't a believer of magic, surely not a believer of time travel. I'd make fun of my grandma and her witch friends as they discussed magic with tea cups and biscuits in their ancient hands, was ridiculous." Till now, some of it seemed so far-fetched for him to fathom. He had blind faith in math and laws of physics after working as a mechanic at his father's pocket watch company for as long as he could remember, the ticks and tocks were as true as the beats of his hearts, irreversible and always moving. Moving forward.

"I tucked the enchantment in one of grandma's handkerchiefs and placed it in some closet, more as a keepsake of her memory rather than of belief to tell ya the truth."

Dean noticed that whatever was coming next wasn't easy on Marcus, the old man's face turned distressed and his lips almost pouted as he spoke, "It wasn't until my Vanessa, my dear wife died of a car accident 6 years later." He remembered the black hole that filled his heart back then, it remained to ache, to suck him dry till this very day.

"I was desperate, probably as desperate as you are right now." He said as he pointed at Dean. "At one time during one of my many drunken hours, I drank so much booze that it trickled outta ma mouth, and I wondered to myself, if I could just be able to go back in time and throttle that drunken driver that crashed into Nessa's car, leaving her to shatter like the glass around her, if I could just end his life before he ended hers, if I could just forget about the ticks and tocks I strongly believed in." He said as he pulled out his pocket watch and shook in front of Dean, "If, for once, could change them, reverse them so they'd be tocks and ticks instead, just so I can go back be with her again."

He swallowed a lump and bent his face down, Dean didn't know whether to walk to Marcus comfort him or just sit there and listen. As if time stood still, Dean waited for the old man to grasp back his composure, he would've wait all his life if he had to.

"It worked," Marcus muffled with his face bent down low, the gasp Dean let out snapped him out of his ancient memory.

"Once sober, I remembered that long abandoned enchantment. I was laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, it wasn't math, it wasn't physics, it was a tock without a tick, but it was all I had left, and I was willing to hold on to it with every tooth and nail."

Marcus's grimace lessened as he recalled the renovated memory, "First thing I did was that I kissed her, I kissed so long until I wanted her to live inside my heart right there," he said as he patted his heart. "But I couldn't stop there, I skimmed through the police records and found out the name of the drunk bastard that took her away, went to his house, I was so mad Dean, I was blinded by this rage that enslaved me for all these months. I shot him and sneered while doing it, didn't even hesitate or flinch. Was killing a life to save my wife, that's fair ain't it? Was releasing the world from a bad man before he ripped an innocent."

Dean didn't say anything, afraid that whatever he might say might halt Marcus from continuing with his reminiscences.

Marcus went quite for a bit before he continued, "Ever heard of a ripple effect Dean?"

"A little, what's it got to do with what happened to you?"

"It's got everything to do with me. See here's the conundrum about time travel," he said as he bent down to get closer to Dean, "You change one thing thinking that you'll back in the present in a better state, that you'll never attempt to fly back again, like you won't miss it as if it's some damn drug."

"I came back to find my father's business gone to ruins. The son of the drunk spotted me when I shot his dad at point blank, raised hellfire against me, and my dad, good old dad, used all the savings of his barely surviving pocket watch company to save my ass outta jail. His company died, and he died soon after from a heart attack, they said it was the stress." He chuckled to himself

"So you went back again?"

"A'course I had to go back again!" Marcus retorted in defense, "Had to fix things, how could I have lived knowing that I was the reason behind my father's distress and death? Had to make things right, save him and save his darlin' company. But things kept getting worse and worse, I'd fix one thing to damage another, I'd save someone to lose some else. And to add more insult to the injury, my body broke down with the abuse."

Dean seemed confused at the new revelation, "What do you mean broke down?"

"See, time travel is like a drug, like freakin meth. The more you use it, the more it kills you. It sucks out the life of ya like a damn leech. You're breaking the law of physics, you gotta expect some backlashes on the way."

"So that's why you got these tubes and all?" Dean asked as he pointed at both the IV and the feeding tube.

"That's what ya only see boy, my body's all broken inside. Flat-lined twice, that wasn't fun I'll tell ya that."

Dean nodded in sympathy as he tried to comprehend it all. Then he noticed the wall, "Well then what of the pictures? You seemed pretty happy then."

"Ah, thought you'd never ask. You're bringing the worse of me there. Back when I lost all hope of savin' my family, when I had nothing to lose and the state of Louisiana went through depression, I had no money to support myself, no home, no purpose, no conscious, I had nada! I was drunk and careless most of the time and I needed anything to get me going, all I had in my sack was the last pocket watch from my dad's fallen company, and the damn enchantment. So I did the unthinkable and advertised the ability, took pictures of myself in different eras to give proof to people that it was possible, nearly killed myself in the process. I ended up making my own miniature time travel business down at the harbor." He explained in shame while looking at the brass pocket watch in his hand. "Ironic eh? All my life I worked with clocks, now I made money by rioting against them." He said as he rubbed the watch's glass with his thumb.

"You'll be surprised at how many people believed me, how much they paid just to go back and undo shit. I did it for 1 month and it felt like shit, like I was some murderer, like a damn drug dealer. It all stopped when this client named Joanna came carrying her dead son, 'LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!' she yelled at me" He said as he lifted his hands upfront to imitate how the woman carried her son. "It clicked through my thick scull then. Dunno how many lives were lost or tormented because of that irrational decision I made. I had a paperboy run down all of New Orleans to tear down my ads, never spoke of it ever since. And you, out of all people, got to see that one add that the damn paper boy forgot to remove."

And Dean felt grateful for that. To be honest, he seemed careless about what Marcus had to say ever since he spoke the words, "It worked."

It fucking works!

He was a hunter, he'll know how to take care of it, he'll know his limits, he won't let it get to him. He'll get things done, surely won't go back for some damn fallen pocket watch business, he'll just save Sam and be done with it. That's all I'm asking for, nothing else matters.

"So it works." Dean said with a smile, the first genuine smile he ever felt to cross his face.

"Yes Dean, but did ya hear the rest of what I said? It works, but makes things a whole lot worse!"

"It can't be worse than this Marcus." He said staring down at his hands.

"No Dean, look at me!" he said, "LOOK AT ME!" and Dean's head snapped up. "See those tubes Dean? Huh? Do you see my wife anywhere Dean? Wonder why's that? It's a fucking mirage Dean. It kills you, eats you from the inside out without you even knowing. You touch it and you'll want more of it, only to find out later that you're body's crumbling before your eyes!"

"I don't give a shit about my life at the moment if you ask me, I appreciate you wanting the best for me, I really do, but please, give me the enchantment Marcus. I can take care of myself."

"That's what I said when I tried it out, bang up job I did with that." He said as he sarcastically showed himself off with both hands, "Please Dean, don't be another lost soul I'd have to carry the guilt for."

"I won't let it get to me, I'll do this once just to save my brother. I'll come back here to prove it to you." Dean said, heart fluttering at the thought that he might bring Sammy along to meet their savior.

Marcus saw in his eyes the same look that Will had when he begged him for the time travel enchantment, the desperation, the sorrow, the willingness to take his life away if provided with no other alternative. Dammit he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Mar…"

"Shut up and follow me." Marcus said as he led him the library across the hall, he held on to his IV stand, strolling it a bit more viciously to echo his frustration.

"Right behind you." He limped, the pain in his leg nothing but a memory. Oh God, Sammy, Sammy I might fix this Dean thought to himself as he walked a bit too close to the old man's back, too eager to reach their destination.

The library seemed like that of a hobbit's, Dean had to bend down so his head wouldn't hit against roof. It smelled of paper, trees, and leather, the smell of knowledge Dean thought to himself as if to mimic Sam. There were so many books, manuals, guides, some stored in wooden shelves, while other stacked up in piles that almost reached the ceiling, all seemed to revolve around clocks, funny.

Marcus skimmed through one of the shelves and found the book he was looking for. It was big and heavy he had to grunt while pulling it out of its hiding place, the cover was of thick leather and pages were yellow and crippled. He dusted it off, a sign that it hadn't been touched in years, flipped through the delicate pages until he reached a piece of cloth which tucked itself against pages, Dean assumed it was the grandmother's handkerchief and his heart beat faster in anticipation. Marcus placed the book down and slowly unraveled the frail piece fabric which sheltered a brown script, he noticed some cursive writings but couldn't see the words through the dim light.

Marcus was pissed, Dean could tell by the puffs he made and the frown that decided to stick on his face ever since they came to this room. He was hating himself for opening up to him and Dean knew it. But this was all background noise, he'll get over it. All he cared about was seeing Sam again, seeing him alive, sitting on the right side of his car, saving people, hunting things, the family's goddam business.

"Dean ya with me?"

Dean cursed himself for being lost within thoughts that seemed so fathomable for once. "Yeah, sorry, just can't believe this is actually possible."

"It is Dean, but it's a dangerous gig, you'll hurt yourself or someone around you. I'm giving ya a way out."

"My way out's gonna take me to some bridge Marcus, and I'd be driving it vertical if I need to be more specific. So you tell me how to do this." Dean said blankly. Marcus wondered how someone could sound so determined yet desperate within the same line.

"Okay, just, just sit down on this stool over there, ya keep forgetting your leg's hurt and it'll keep remindin' ya."

Dean took a seat, anything to keep the old man going, "There, now tell me," Dean said sternly, "please" he added to sound civil.

Marcus shook his head from side to side, detesting himself for the secret he was about to expose. He took a deep breath and began, "Here's what you gotta know, and you listen to me well kid."

Dean didn't need to be told twice, he was all ears.

"Now, first thing ya gotta keep in mind is this, ya can only change one thing in one day. " he said as he lifted his index finger to emphasize the number one. "You can't go ping pong'n and travel back and forth on that same day to fix things in a different fashion. Ya go once and ya make it count. Go back there again and you're as good as dead meat ya got that?"

"Got that." Dean said, he was writing everything down in his head like a hungry scholar.

"Ya only got a limited time on that day ya choose to travel to, once ya make a change, your ass will be dragged back up here to the present. Simple as that, no need to wait on a bus stop that'll take ya home."

"Okay, how can I go to that date?"

"Wait for it. Now I said this before, and I'mma say it again. Time travel is a slow killer, it'll damage ya if ya don't be careful. You'll hurt, you'll ache, you'll bleed, heck you'll probably scream at times. So ya better make things right from the first time. So don't go all macho and and travel a couple o' times in one go. You ain't made of metal, ya need to give your body a while to heal before ya decide to fly again. Breakin' of physics will try to break you back ya understand? I'd give it a month, and that's me being nice.

"Okay, anything else on that?"

"Ice cubes."

"Ice cubes?"

"Damn straight. When ya decide to time travel, your ass needs to be in a bucket of ice cubes, now's the time to ask me why."

"Why?" Dean asked right away.

"The force of time travel induces so much heat on your present body, the alternation of physics, the bending of seconds, the twists and shifts; it forces it into a state of hyperthermia that would leave you as good as fried bacon."

"So the ice cubes block this side effect?"

"Now you catchin' on. Listen, don't you dare…" he paused to indicate the importance of the instruction, "Don't ya dare ever, in your wildest state, decide to time travel without being in that bucket of ice ya understand? You find none then you wait till you find some. That simple, but that damn important." He chuckeled at inside joke between him and himself, "Remember when I told ya I flat-lined twice?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah."

"Well one of those times was because I recklessly decided to fly my ass with no damn ice cubes, I had a fever so high I thought I'd melt to the floor."

"Okay, okay I'll be careful."

Marcus went quite for bit, as if he mentally went through all the rules to make sure that he said it all, once he did, he continued hesitantly, "So… here's the enchantment,"

"Thought you'd never get there." Dean said as he raised his hand to grab the fragile paper.

"It's in Latin. Witches loved to speak in that tongue, made them feel historic my grandma used to say."

Dean didn't hear that part, his fingers were busy tracing the enchantment's wordings, they looked so ancient, so powerful, so… timeless. "How does it work?" Dean asked, still gazing at the wordings in awe. Sammy

"Simple, you read it through while thinking of the date you wanna travel to. Then it'll do all the work for ya."

"That's it?" Dean asked as he lifted his head to stare at Marcus, "That's all I gotta do? No need to write the day in blood? No sacrifice? No salt, fire, some stink'n potion? Just this paper and some ice cubes? Sounds too simple if ya ask me."

"That's what I thought, but look what "simple" did to me." He said as pointed to his fatigued body. "You be careful Dean, you do it once and you come look for me okay? Or else I'll never forgive you boy, sure as heck won't forgive myself." He said as bent his head down.

"I promise I'll be back Marcus. Thank you, I… I gotta get to it." Dean said, didn't want to waste a minute. As much as he wanted to stay with the old man, assure him that he'll have it all under control, but he had bigger plans, Sam was waiting for him, was out there in the muddy woods, about to get stabbed, and for the first time in a long time, Dean finally found the power to stop it.

Dean stood up, hugged Marcus to show his gratitude, "Sorry I kept ya through the night. You take care of yourself." he said as he pointed at the IV stand.

"Sure, just don't come back to me carrying one of those stands yerself."

Dean smiled lightly as he turned around and walked towards the door, he gave Marcus one final look, they both stared at each other for a few seconds and Dean broke it with a nod. None said a word, but their voices seemed to echo throughout the universe.

Once outside, the scene ahead of him wasn't as dark or suffocating as before. The rain had shrunk to a mere drizzle, dawn was lazily approaching the edges of the sky. It all seemed beautiful all of a sudden, there was hope.

He walked slowly down the steps at first, then jogged a bit, then with a few priming breathes, he shifted into a hunter's run, heading towards the motel like his life depended on it. His limping leg ached but the adrenaline was back in motion, working overtime to get on with this escapade. The enchantment safe in his jacket's inside pocket, teasing him with its power.

He reached the red bricked panting. He spotted Mardi's office, she wasn't at work yet. He smiled to himself, "Hey Mardi, you might just get yer Sammy back." He said to no one.

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Trying to balance two buckets of ice he grabbed from the ice machine down the hall with one hand, he unlocked the room's door with his other hand. Once he had the door open, he placed the buckets on the floor. He removed his drenched boots, carefully brought the enchantment from his pocket before releasing his jacket, he was moving with wild energy.

He lifted the ice buckets to the bathroom, he thought the tub would be the most convenient place. Oh Sammy if you only what I'm doing to get you back here he chuckled nervously as he poured both buckets of ice into the tub, the loud sounds omitted as each cube hit the marbled cask strengthened his resolve . He then filled the tub with water so it wouldn't be as harsh to sit on, each cube floated like an amateur iceberg.

He went back to the room, thought of calling Bobby to tell him of what he was about to do but he thought against it . The old man would've surely apposed this senseless stunt, he would've probably come all the way to New Orleans to tear the enchantment to bits. He wasn't risking any disruptions. Putting that thought aside, he grabbed the paper with gentle hands and went back to the bathroom. He placed it on the sink's edge as he removed his pants and shirt till he was left with nothing but his boxers. His heart was hammering in his chest like an untamed horse.

He lifted his injured leg first towards the iced tub , "Oh shit this is cold" he said out loud, he then placed his other leg "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit" he kept on saying. He slowly went down till his thighs, stomach and chest were under the freezing water, "Sssson…o o o of… a a… bbbb ..bbbitch!" Dean said through chattering teeth, it felt like he just took a dump into some ice fishing hole.

"This b…better work M…Marcus!" Dean whispered between freezing breathes. He grabbed the paper with his dry yet shaking hands.

This is it.

He took a calming breathe, ignored the chatters that rattled his teeth, and slowly thought of the day he wanted to return to, to the woods, to the damn mud that mocked his boots. He remembered the day as if it was carved on his heart with a poker, May 07, 2007, he remembered the damn hour, the exact minute if they asked him. He kept that date held in his mind as he began to read through the enchantment:

"Veniet, veniet tempus" Time will come, time will go

"Tempus capiet, quod seminatum est tempus" Time shall reap what time has sown

"Tollite me, et aedificabo mihi" Send me back, let me rebuild

Seram iterum hanc maledictam centunculus" Let me sow again this wicked quilt

Nothing.

With his eyes still closed, he repeated the enchantment a second time, date still fixed in mind.

Come on Come on Come on…

"What the heck Marcus?" Dean said with frustration as he tried once again, almost memorizing the enchantment in the process, Latin was more of a second language.

He repeated the enchantment for the fourth time but to no avail, he opened his eyes, finding himself still in that tub, pathetically shivering under a tub of ice. He started to wonder if this was indeed some sick joke.

This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. He was about to get himself out of the cold tub which was now aching his bones, after all of the hardships he went through, he wasn't going to die pitifully from hypothermia in some damn red bricked motel tub!

One more time Dean? Just one more time, the hopeful part of him spoke.

"Dammit" he said out loud as his desperation won. With hands gripping the edges of the tub to not sink in. Not bothering with the grabbing paper, the enchantment already remembered by heart. This is it.

"Veniet, veniet tempus," he said with a calming breath, he was almost able hear his echo against the tiles.

"Tempus capiet, quod seminatum est tempus," he went on, hands unconsciously falling into the tub.

"Tollte me… et aedificabo mihi," his tongue suddenly went heavy and his body felt like lead, but he continued…

"Seram… iterum hanc maledictam centunculus…" he barely whispered.

…

Heat.

It started with a tingly feeling that branched from his fingertips, then it marched across his body with graduating heat, so much heat he felt like he was surrounded by coals rather than of ice. Like the sun had folded itself around him. His breath felt like fire against his confused lungs.

Noise.

It began with distant ringing that slowly turned to white noise so loud and deafening it seemed like he was inside a tidal wave, it was suffocating him, drowning him, swooshing and tossing him violently into some dark void where there was no beginning or end.

Pain.

God it hurt, his legs felt stretched, his arms seemed tangled, and his head, his head felt like it was about to explode to a million little pieces. His insides twisted and moved as if his liver and kidney decide to change places against his consent.

Just when he thought he was about to break from it all, a popping sound erupted, like when your ears open up after being so up in the air. His senses slowly came back to him; the pain ebbed away like a dying fire. He opened his burning eyes but all he saw was a blur.

The first thing he recognized was the smell of mud.

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There ya have it! Chapter 4! This was a chapter that the whole story will be built upon, that's why it's more comprehensive and explanatory rather than filled with action, saved that all for the coming chapters *evil grin*

Thanks again to DeansbabyBird (Bev) for the beta! You're awesome!

Your reviews fuel my muse :)