Post by Silwyna on Apr 19, 2009 12:42:32 GMT 1
Disclaimer: I'm in no way related to the TV show Supernatural. It's characters (sadly) do not belong to me. I'm not making any profit with this story.
A.N.: A huge thank you to Yor and Kaz for beta reading. All mistakes are mine. This story is sort of a continuation to my other story "Forgive us our sins", but you don't need to have read that one to read this story.
The story takes place in Season 1, right after Dead Man's Blood.
Eternal Memories
“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I’ve got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So…we go after this damn thing - together.“ John Winchester.
Prologue
France, 1244
Proudly the castle stood on the mountain, looking down at what was going on right outside its walls.
The air was still fresh and cold this early in the morning; Mathieu Lavie wrapped his arms around his waist as he tried to stay warm. His breath escaped his mouth in small, white clouds. With a smile he considered that in a few minutes he wouldn’t have to worry about the cold anymore.
Hastening his steps, he walked across the meadow at the foot of the Castle, straight towards his second in command, Jules Nemours, who oversaw the preparations for the day’s events.
“Good Morning, Jules. Everything ready?”
“Yes. Uhm, Mathieu …” Hesitantly, Jules looked at his long time friend. “Is this right?”
Mathieu tried hard not to roll his eyes. This was so like his friend, doubting what had to be done. “We’re doing God’s will, Jules. We’re saving these people.”
“Saving them? By this?” Jules pointed at the pyres that covered a huge part of the meadow.
Jules smiled. “We gave them a choice. They refused. What is happening now is out of our hands.”
“There are so many. By God, some of them are children, Mathieu! How can this be what He wants?”
“They have to pay for their sins. Let’s begin; I don’t want to waste all day with this. We still have a lot to do.”
“Mathieu, at least the children … let them go, I beg you.” Jules pleaded, grabbing his friend at the arm.
Shooting a disgusted glare at him, Mathieu pulled free of him and turned to his soldiers that stood in front of the pyres. His eyes shortly went over the over two hundred men, women and children tied to the stakes.
“Heretics.” He spat out.
“Don’t do this.” Again, Jules grabbed his arm and whirled him around.
Mathieu was about to shout at his friend to let him go, when his eyes fell on Jules’ face. It looked like his friend’s and yet … Mathieu felt as if he stared into the eyes of a stranger.
“This is not God’s will.” Jules spoke in a voice that had nothing in common with the voice Mathieu had listened to for years.
It was as if a complete different person was standing in front of him … and yet, Jules still looked the same.
“Stop it, Jules. It’s too late. The Pope ordered the death of all heretics who won’t swear on the bible. These people …”
“This is not God’s will.” Jules repeated.
His tone sent shivers down Mathieu’s spine.
“You’re saying the Pope is wrong?” He asked defiantly. “You want to go against his orders?”
“I’m telling you to let these people go. That is God’s order.”
“You’re talking to God now?” Mathieu huffed.
Jules stared at him intently. “You have to let them go.”
“I thought I knew you.” Mathieu shook his head in disappointment. His friend had completely lost it. “Go home, Jules. There’s nothing for you to do here anymore.” He turned back to the soldiers who stood ready to fulfill his orders. “Kill them. Kill them all!” He shouted. “Light the fires!”
One after the other, his men held their torches against the pyres. It didn’t take long until the first flames touched their victims’ skin; after a few minutes, the morning air was filled with screams and the scent of burned flesh.
In less than half an hour it was all over.
Mathieu walked back into the castle to pack his things when he saw Jules again. He still looked as strange as before. Cold eyes stared back at him from his friend’s face.
“They will never be forgotten.” He said in that same strange tone. Then the look in his eyes changed and Mathieu recognized his old friend in them again. “Mathieu?” Jules asked confusion.
“Go home, Jules.” Mathieu said coldly. “I don’t need you any longer.”
“I don’t understand, what …”
A woman’s cry drowned out the rest of his words. Mathieu quickly walked around a corner where he saw a woman sitting on the ground. Tears were running down her face and in her arms she held a baby – it wasn’t breathing. Next to her sat a young girl, maybe six, seven years old; she looked starving.
More screams echoed through the halls – screams of men and women, crying out in pain. He heard people shouting, giving orders – orders as if the castle was under attack.
“What is going on here?” He demanded to know.
“What do you mean?” Jules asked.
“Who is attacking us? I thought we got all the heretics?” Mathieu cursed under his breath, at the same time pulling out his sword and hurrying back toward the exit.
“No one is attacking us. What are you talking about? Mathieu? Mathieu?!” Jules called after him.
Mathieu ran out of the castle; his heart skipped a beat when he saw a man fall from the wall, hitting the ground right in front of him.
“What is going on here?” He screamed. “I want to …” His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on the meadow.
The pyres were burning again, the heretics’ screams once again filling the air.
“No. No, that’s impossible.” He mumbled. “They were already dead. They were all dead!”
“Mathieu?” Jules’ worried voice came from behind him.
Slowly, Mathieu turned to him; he was hardly aware of the tremors that shook his body. “Why are they burning again?” He asked hoarsely. “How can they still be alive?”
Confused, Jules shook his head. “The fires are all out.” His face hardened. “They’re all dead.”
“No, no, don’t you see? DON’T YOU SEE IT?” Mathieu screamed. He didn’t wait for Jules to reply; instead he ran back inside the castle as if the devil himself were after him.
As soon as he stepped in, he once again heard the woman’s cry. He stepped around the corner and there she was, holding her dead baby, her daughter sitting beside her. It was the exact same scene as previously. He kept running until he reached a room, filled with people – injured people. His eyes fell on a man, lying on the bed in the middle of the room. A woman was standing over him, talking to him quietly. One moment he looked at her, then his eyes went blank – he was dead. Horrified, Mathieu watched the woman closing the man’s eyes. Then he saw her – the same woman! – standing next to several other beds, repeating the same action – talking quietly to the injured, then closing their eyes when they had died.
No matter where he looked, in every corner of the room, he saw a man, woman, a child dying. Not able to take it anymore, he stumbled backwards. He needed to get out. The castle was cursed! He ran back to the exit when he heard it again – the woman’s cry. A moment later he saw her, sitting on the ground, crying, her dead baby in her arms, her daughter next to her. Just like before. Exactly like before!
He stumbled out of the castle, onto the meadow – where once again the pyres were burning and the people were screaming.
“No!” He screamed. He fell on his knees, tearing his hair. “NOOOO!”
Chapter 1
Dean quietly hummed to Led Zeppelin as his concentration tuned in to the traffic, the rain that hadn’t seemed to stop for the last couple of days and his father’s truck in front of them.
He still couldn’t quite believe John Winchester was driving before him; half of the time he was expecting to wake up and discover all this was just a dream. For almost a year he and Sam had been looking for their father, had left over a hundred unanswered messages on his voicemail and then, after a short reunion with him in Chicago, had been forced to part with him again.
Yet here he was - right in front of them. John Winchester in plain sight. And it wasn’t a dream. Their father wasn’t going to leave this time. They would finish – together – what he had started 23 years ago. They would kill the son of a bitch that had taken their mother. They had the Colt to do it and Caleb had called to tell them he had information about a demon killing knife - which was why they were on the road despite the heavy rain that had already flooded half the state. The hunter had refused to talk about his new find over the phone.
One more weapon to kill this yellow-eyed bastard and once he was dead, it would be over once and for all - and they would be together again like before.
They would be a family again.
Things would be good. Sam might decide to return to school – which by now Dean almost hoped he would do because it was normal and Sam wanted normal. Sam deserved normal! Normal meant Sam was happy and when Sam was happy, so was Dean. It had taken him over three years to realize that, but he understood it now. Sam might return to school, but that was okay. Because Dean still had Dad and they would hunt together and between hunts, they could go and meet up with Sam whenever they wanted to.
Things would be good again.
And it was about damn time for that!
Dean glanced over to his brother with a warm smile. Right now was almost as good as he could ever wish for.
Sam was busy checking his emails from the last few days. His thoughts were far away from hunting, demons and what had been before and what might be after. Since hooking up with their Dad again, they had been too busy to socialize with old acquaintances. Not that Dean had any old acquaintances to socialize with. He left that part of life to his younger brother. Sam liked socializing. Dean … he was happy having his family around. He didn’t need anyone else, except maybe a nice woman or two every now and then.
Yeah, things were good again.
“Damn.” Sam cursed quietly.
Dean sighed. Of course it couldn’t all be good. Not in his family. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “Don’t tell me one of your friends is framed for murder again. One time was enough. I can only die so many times.” He grinned.
“Funny.” Sam smirked. “No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.”
Dean frowned. “But you said damn and you never say damn unless something real … damn worthy happens.”
“You just used the same curse word three times in one sentence. That has to be some kind of new personal record.” Sam mocked him.
Dean held up his forefinger and waved it at Sam. “Uhuh. You don’t get away that easily. What’s up?”
“It wouldn’t interest you, Dean.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Try me.”
With a sigh, Sam gave in. “Fine. Stanford just got obliterated.”
Dean looked at his brother with wide eyes. “Come again?”
Apocalyptic images of Stanford University and Sam’s former apartment lying in ashes with Palo Alto having vanished completely from the surface of earth raced through his mind.
“They lost to Arizona 38 to 3. They didn’t even score one touchdown.” Sam sighed. “That must have been one of the worst games ever, and I just lost ten bucks.”
Dean stared at him incredulously. “Dude, you’re talking about sports?”
“College Football, yeah.” Sam shrugged. “Back when … you know … we always betted on the games. Well, Jade and I kinda took it up again after Carlton City. She always bets on the opposing teams.” He added, rolling his eyes.
“Football. You bet on football games?” Dean was torn between whether to strangle his little brother or be glad that Stanford hadn’t in fact been destroyed by … well, by whatever would destroy a whole town. He eventually settled for an incredulous glare directed at his brother.
“Just the Stanford ones and it’s not like we bet a lot of money.” Sam replied, oblivious to what was going on in his brother’s mind.
Dean thought it was best to keep it that way. “And you lost?” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed, Sammy. I thought I taught you better. Never take on a bet if you’re not 100 percent sure of the outcome.”
“You can never be 100 percent sure of the outcome. It’s just impossible. And you never taught me anything about betting.” Sam pointed out.
“You grew up right next to me. What more … damn!”
Dean slammed on the brakes and forced the steering wheel into a sharp turn, at the last moment avoiding a giant sinkhole that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road and had already swallowed their father’s truck.
With screech of tires Dean steered the car to the other side of the road and came to a complete stop.
“What the hell!” He yelled, punching the steering wheel hard. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears as the adrenaline coursed through his veins.
He looked to Sam, to find that he too was just as stunned, eyes front, chest heaving. Dean gave him a once over with his eyes; seeing that he wasn’t injured he turned his gaze to the roadside, looking for their father.
The back of their father’s truck was the only part visible.
“What the hell …”
“The street just caved in.” Sam said, still staring incredulous at the hole in the middle of the road.
“Oh really? Good to have a genius in the family.” Dean hissed. Then his eyes fell on his father as he scrambled out of the hole. Except for a bleeding laceration on his left brow he didn’t seemed to be further injured. “Oh man, Dad is going to be pissed.”
The brothers watched their father as he climbed out of the hole and stared at it in disbelief. It only took a moment before he started giving the truck’s tailgate a few hard punches.
“You think?” Sam sighed.
The brothers shared a look, before they slowly climbed out of the Impala.
“You okay, Dad?” Dean called to their father.
John Winchester turned around and gave his sons an exasperated look. “You hurt?” He asked instead of giving an answer.
“We’re fine.” Sam replied.
Dean nodded affirmatively. “All good.” He gave his father the thumb’s up.
“The freaking street just caved in!” John cursed, giving his truck another punch with the palm of his hands.
“The rain must have weakened the foundation.” Sam said quietly.
John grumbled something incomprehensible and both boys decided it was better to not say anything more on the subject.
“We gotta take the Impala. I don’t think the truck is going to drive anywhere right now.” John growled, looking ruefully at his beloved truck.
“There’s a town about half an hour from here. We could tow the truck there. Could the Impala do it?”
“Tow the truck?” Dean stared affronted at his brother. “No way, forget it. Do you have any idea what this could do to the transmission? Or the differential? I’m not gonna risk my car.”
He went back to the Impala and started rummaging through the glove box. After a moment, he triumphantly held up an Automobile Association Card. „David Goodale from Tipton, Indiana, is going to help us with that little problem.
Sam looked doubtful at the card. “It won't work if he's declared it stolen by now. We've had that like forever.“
Dean looked smugly at his brother. „THAT, little brother, is the beauty of this card. The guy threw out his second card. He doesn't know it's stolen.“
“What if he's canceled it since then? This card is expired.“
“Have a little faith, Sammy. We’ll say the new card is at home. We forgot to change this out.“ Dean waved off the argument. “Just take the card and make the call.”
“Why do I have to make the call? You found the card.”
“You’re the trustworthy one in this family, Sammy boy. Here.” Dean threw the card at his brother and turned away to join his father checking out the damage to the truck.
With a defeated sigh, Sam pulled out his phone and made the call.
Finding a towing service proved more difficult than expected though, even with AAA’s help. After ten minutes, Sam ended the call with the last garage in the surrounding area with an exasperated sigh. “We better start repacking your weapons, Dad. There seems to be some kind of major traffic jam a few miles from here and no one is willing to come.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean groaned.
“Well …” John sighed and looked thoughtfully at the Impala.
“We’re not using my car.” Dean said quickly.
Sam rolled his eyes and for a moment it seemed John was going to do the same. He held back though, shrugged and opened the truck’s bed. “Let’s start reloading. I want to be in town before night. Maybe we can borrow a tow truck and tow the truck into town ourselves.”
They stowed John’s weapons in the Impala, careful not to let any of the other drivers who were slowly driving by see what they were doing. John’s truck was well stocked and not all of its weaponry fit into the Impala’s trunk. Some of it they had to place on the backseat, hidden under blankets.
It took them close to half an hour, but eventually they were back on the road again. Sam had claimed his seat on the passenger seat, forcing their father to climb on the backseat. Except for a raised brow, John had surprisingly said nothing against this.
“This is nice, huh?” Dean stated grinning about an hour after they had hit the road again. “All three of us in one car again.”
His words were met with a cold silence.
“Come on, it’s not that bad.” He tried to break the quiet.
“Dean, we haven’t moved at all in the last half hour.” Sam groaned. He was no longer surprised that no towing service had been willing to help them out.
“It’s a little traffic jam, not a big deal.” Dean shrugged.
“A little?” John growled from the back seat, eyebrow raised.
“Well, it can’t go on forever, right?” Dean said.
John and Sam stayed silent. Dean tried to see the bright side - at least they were agreeing on the matter. Things were still good.
In the rearview mirror he saw a motorcycle drive by the stationary cars, quickly coming closer. Sighing, he patted the Impala’s wheel. A motorcycle would get them through this jam in no time. But leaving the Impala behind? The world would have to go down before he’d trade his baby for two wheels, much less anything else.
He had just finished the thought, when Sam suddenly jumped up in his seat.
“Whoa!” He cried out, scrambling back from the window and staring at the meadow at the side of the road with wide eyes.
“Sam?”
“What’s wrong?” John asked from behind.
“That … there’s … don’t you see?” Sam stuttered, still staring out of the window.
Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to see what had his brother so freaked out. “I see nothing. Sam, what …”
“Holy shit!” Sam jerked away from the window even more, his hands going up to protect his face.
“What is it?” Dean asked, panic in his voice at not being able to see what Sam was seeing and yet trying to protect him from it. He wrapped an arm around Sam in an attempt to calm him, continuously staring out the window, trying to see what had made his brother freak out like this.
John had his gun out and the window wound down, ready to take out anything that might threaten his sons. He couldn’t see anything either - just an empty meadow with only a few trees on it.
“Sam, calm down!” He barked.
The words had just left his mouth, when Sam suddenly cried out in pain and clapped his hands over his head, knuckles pressed tightly against his temples. His eyes closed and he doubled over in pain.
“Shit, not now.” Dean cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” John called out worriedly. He leaned forward, one hand on Sam’s back, the other still firmly wrapped around his gun.
“Sam?” Carefully, Dean turned Sam around, away from the window, until he could face him. “Just breathe, Sammy, it’ll be okay.” He spoke soothingly, his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Sam, you hear me?”
“What’s wrong with him?” John demanded, wanting, needing to know.
“Not now, Dad.” Dean snapped; his eyes fixed on his brother. “Sam?”
“Dean?” Sam’s whispered voice sounded hoarse, almost inaudible. He was breathing heavily as he tried to bring his trembling body back under control.
Dean hated that this voice sounded so familiar to him by now. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s over.” He repeated as he gently stroked Sam’s back, willing himself to stay calm, to not freak out no matter how much he wished he could.
This wasn’t normal. Sam didn’t look normal. This vision didn’t look normal. And just thinking about it was a whole new matter of freaking out worthy, because since when was watching your brother having a vision normal? Apart from the clutching the head part though, this didn’t look like a vision. Sam’s eyes weren’t glazed over like he wasn’t there. His eyes looked like … like they were seeing, really seeing. And Dean caught himself searching the meadow again for anything that might have given Sam such a scare. From the way Sam was looking, there had to have been something.
“What did you see?” He eventually asked, practically forcing the words out while being proud of himself for sounding not freaked out!
“I … I’m not sure.” Sam looked helplessly at his brother.
Dean swallowed. “The demon? Did you see the demon? Or some weirdo death? Another knife throwing freak? What was it?” Dean inhaled deeply, forcing himself to shut up. His ramblings didn’t help anyone.
“What are you talking about?” John asked, shocked at what he was hearing.
Dean held up his hand for him to wait. “Sam?”
The youngest Winchester shook his head, his eyes going out over the meadow again. “No, I … I don’t think so. I … It was here.”
“Here? The demon was here?” Dean asked, his eyes following Sam’s.
“No. There was no demon.” Sam sighed impatiently. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Like Sam, Dean inhaled deeply before he went on in a calmer voice. “What did you see?”
“I think … it looked like some kind of … battle.”
“A battle?” Dean asked surprised.
“Yeah … and … it looked like … “ Sam looked hesitantly at his brother.
“Like what?” Dean urged him to go on.
“Like Cowboys and Indians.”
TBC
A.N.: A huge thank you to Yor and Kaz for beta reading. All mistakes are mine. This story is sort of a continuation to my other story "Forgive us our sins", but you don't need to have read that one to read this story.
The story takes place in Season 1, right after Dead Man's Blood.
Eternal Memories
By Silwyna
“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I’ve got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So…we go after this damn thing - together.“ John Winchester.
Prologue
France, 1244
Proudly the castle stood on the mountain, looking down at what was going on right outside its walls.
The air was still fresh and cold this early in the morning; Mathieu Lavie wrapped his arms around his waist as he tried to stay warm. His breath escaped his mouth in small, white clouds. With a smile he considered that in a few minutes he wouldn’t have to worry about the cold anymore.
Hastening his steps, he walked across the meadow at the foot of the Castle, straight towards his second in command, Jules Nemours, who oversaw the preparations for the day’s events.
“Good Morning, Jules. Everything ready?”
“Yes. Uhm, Mathieu …” Hesitantly, Jules looked at his long time friend. “Is this right?”
Mathieu tried hard not to roll his eyes. This was so like his friend, doubting what had to be done. “We’re doing God’s will, Jules. We’re saving these people.”
“Saving them? By this?” Jules pointed at the pyres that covered a huge part of the meadow.
Jules smiled. “We gave them a choice. They refused. What is happening now is out of our hands.”
“There are so many. By God, some of them are children, Mathieu! How can this be what He wants?”
“They have to pay for their sins. Let’s begin; I don’t want to waste all day with this. We still have a lot to do.”
“Mathieu, at least the children … let them go, I beg you.” Jules pleaded, grabbing his friend at the arm.
Shooting a disgusted glare at him, Mathieu pulled free of him and turned to his soldiers that stood in front of the pyres. His eyes shortly went over the over two hundred men, women and children tied to the stakes.
“Heretics.” He spat out.
“Don’t do this.” Again, Jules grabbed his arm and whirled him around.
Mathieu was about to shout at his friend to let him go, when his eyes fell on Jules’ face. It looked like his friend’s and yet … Mathieu felt as if he stared into the eyes of a stranger.
“This is not God’s will.” Jules spoke in a voice that had nothing in common with the voice Mathieu had listened to for years.
It was as if a complete different person was standing in front of him … and yet, Jules still looked the same.
“Stop it, Jules. It’s too late. The Pope ordered the death of all heretics who won’t swear on the bible. These people …”
“This is not God’s will.” Jules repeated.
His tone sent shivers down Mathieu’s spine.
“You’re saying the Pope is wrong?” He asked defiantly. “You want to go against his orders?”
“I’m telling you to let these people go. That is God’s order.”
“You’re talking to God now?” Mathieu huffed.
Jules stared at him intently. “You have to let them go.”
“I thought I knew you.” Mathieu shook his head in disappointment. His friend had completely lost it. “Go home, Jules. There’s nothing for you to do here anymore.” He turned back to the soldiers who stood ready to fulfill his orders. “Kill them. Kill them all!” He shouted. “Light the fires!”
One after the other, his men held their torches against the pyres. It didn’t take long until the first flames touched their victims’ skin; after a few minutes, the morning air was filled with screams and the scent of burned flesh.
In less than half an hour it was all over.
Mathieu walked back into the castle to pack his things when he saw Jules again. He still looked as strange as before. Cold eyes stared back at him from his friend’s face.
“They will never be forgotten.” He said in that same strange tone. Then the look in his eyes changed and Mathieu recognized his old friend in them again. “Mathieu?” Jules asked confusion.
“Go home, Jules.” Mathieu said coldly. “I don’t need you any longer.”
“I don’t understand, what …”
A woman’s cry drowned out the rest of his words. Mathieu quickly walked around a corner where he saw a woman sitting on the ground. Tears were running down her face and in her arms she held a baby – it wasn’t breathing. Next to her sat a young girl, maybe six, seven years old; she looked starving.
More screams echoed through the halls – screams of men and women, crying out in pain. He heard people shouting, giving orders – orders as if the castle was under attack.
“What is going on here?” He demanded to know.
“What do you mean?” Jules asked.
“Who is attacking us? I thought we got all the heretics?” Mathieu cursed under his breath, at the same time pulling out his sword and hurrying back toward the exit.
“No one is attacking us. What are you talking about? Mathieu? Mathieu?!” Jules called after him.
Mathieu ran out of the castle; his heart skipped a beat when he saw a man fall from the wall, hitting the ground right in front of him.
“What is going on here?” He screamed. “I want to …” His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on the meadow.
The pyres were burning again, the heretics’ screams once again filling the air.
“No. No, that’s impossible.” He mumbled. “They were already dead. They were all dead!”
“Mathieu?” Jules’ worried voice came from behind him.
Slowly, Mathieu turned to him; he was hardly aware of the tremors that shook his body. “Why are they burning again?” He asked hoarsely. “How can they still be alive?”
Confused, Jules shook his head. “The fires are all out.” His face hardened. “They’re all dead.”
“No, no, don’t you see? DON’T YOU SEE IT?” Mathieu screamed. He didn’t wait for Jules to reply; instead he ran back inside the castle as if the devil himself were after him.
As soon as he stepped in, he once again heard the woman’s cry. He stepped around the corner and there she was, holding her dead baby, her daughter sitting beside her. It was the exact same scene as previously. He kept running until he reached a room, filled with people – injured people. His eyes fell on a man, lying on the bed in the middle of the room. A woman was standing over him, talking to him quietly. One moment he looked at her, then his eyes went blank – he was dead. Horrified, Mathieu watched the woman closing the man’s eyes. Then he saw her – the same woman! – standing next to several other beds, repeating the same action – talking quietly to the injured, then closing their eyes when they had died.
No matter where he looked, in every corner of the room, he saw a man, woman, a child dying. Not able to take it anymore, he stumbled backwards. He needed to get out. The castle was cursed! He ran back to the exit when he heard it again – the woman’s cry. A moment later he saw her, sitting on the ground, crying, her dead baby in her arms, her daughter next to her. Just like before. Exactly like before!
He stumbled out of the castle, onto the meadow – where once again the pyres were burning and the people were screaming.
“No!” He screamed. He fell on his knees, tearing his hair. “NOOOO!”
Chapter 1
Dean quietly hummed to Led Zeppelin as his concentration tuned in to the traffic, the rain that hadn’t seemed to stop for the last couple of days and his father’s truck in front of them.
He still couldn’t quite believe John Winchester was driving before him; half of the time he was expecting to wake up and discover all this was just a dream. For almost a year he and Sam had been looking for their father, had left over a hundred unanswered messages on his voicemail and then, after a short reunion with him in Chicago, had been forced to part with him again.
Yet here he was - right in front of them. John Winchester in plain sight. And it wasn’t a dream. Their father wasn’t going to leave this time. They would finish – together – what he had started 23 years ago. They would kill the son of a bitch that had taken their mother. They had the Colt to do it and Caleb had called to tell them he had information about a demon killing knife - which was why they were on the road despite the heavy rain that had already flooded half the state. The hunter had refused to talk about his new find over the phone.
One more weapon to kill this yellow-eyed bastard and once he was dead, it would be over once and for all - and they would be together again like before.
They would be a family again.
Things would be good. Sam might decide to return to school – which by now Dean almost hoped he would do because it was normal and Sam wanted normal. Sam deserved normal! Normal meant Sam was happy and when Sam was happy, so was Dean. It had taken him over three years to realize that, but he understood it now. Sam might return to school, but that was okay. Because Dean still had Dad and they would hunt together and between hunts, they could go and meet up with Sam whenever they wanted to.
Things would be good again.
And it was about damn time for that!
Dean glanced over to his brother with a warm smile. Right now was almost as good as he could ever wish for.
Sam was busy checking his emails from the last few days. His thoughts were far away from hunting, demons and what had been before and what might be after. Since hooking up with their Dad again, they had been too busy to socialize with old acquaintances. Not that Dean had any old acquaintances to socialize with. He left that part of life to his younger brother. Sam liked socializing. Dean … he was happy having his family around. He didn’t need anyone else, except maybe a nice woman or two every now and then.
Yeah, things were good again.
“Damn.” Sam cursed quietly.
Dean sighed. Of course it couldn’t all be good. Not in his family. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “Don’t tell me one of your friends is framed for murder again. One time was enough. I can only die so many times.” He grinned.
“Funny.” Sam smirked. “No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.”
Dean frowned. “But you said damn and you never say damn unless something real … damn worthy happens.”
“You just used the same curse word three times in one sentence. That has to be some kind of new personal record.” Sam mocked him.
Dean held up his forefinger and waved it at Sam. “Uhuh. You don’t get away that easily. What’s up?”
“It wouldn’t interest you, Dean.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Try me.”
With a sigh, Sam gave in. “Fine. Stanford just got obliterated.”
Dean looked at his brother with wide eyes. “Come again?”
Apocalyptic images of Stanford University and Sam’s former apartment lying in ashes with Palo Alto having vanished completely from the surface of earth raced through his mind.
“They lost to Arizona 38 to 3. They didn’t even score one touchdown.” Sam sighed. “That must have been one of the worst games ever, and I just lost ten bucks.”
Dean stared at him incredulously. “Dude, you’re talking about sports?”
“College Football, yeah.” Sam shrugged. “Back when … you know … we always betted on the games. Well, Jade and I kinda took it up again after Carlton City. She always bets on the opposing teams.” He added, rolling his eyes.
“Football. You bet on football games?” Dean was torn between whether to strangle his little brother or be glad that Stanford hadn’t in fact been destroyed by … well, by whatever would destroy a whole town. He eventually settled for an incredulous glare directed at his brother.
“Just the Stanford ones and it’s not like we bet a lot of money.” Sam replied, oblivious to what was going on in his brother’s mind.
Dean thought it was best to keep it that way. “And you lost?” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed, Sammy. I thought I taught you better. Never take on a bet if you’re not 100 percent sure of the outcome.”
“You can never be 100 percent sure of the outcome. It’s just impossible. And you never taught me anything about betting.” Sam pointed out.
“You grew up right next to me. What more … damn!”
Dean slammed on the brakes and forced the steering wheel into a sharp turn, at the last moment avoiding a giant sinkhole that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road and had already swallowed their father’s truck.
With screech of tires Dean steered the car to the other side of the road and came to a complete stop.
“What the hell!” He yelled, punching the steering wheel hard. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears as the adrenaline coursed through his veins.
He looked to Sam, to find that he too was just as stunned, eyes front, chest heaving. Dean gave him a once over with his eyes; seeing that he wasn’t injured he turned his gaze to the roadside, looking for their father.
The back of their father’s truck was the only part visible.
“What the hell …”
“The street just caved in.” Sam said, still staring incredulous at the hole in the middle of the road.
“Oh really? Good to have a genius in the family.” Dean hissed. Then his eyes fell on his father as he scrambled out of the hole. Except for a bleeding laceration on his left brow he didn’t seemed to be further injured. “Oh man, Dad is going to be pissed.”
The brothers watched their father as he climbed out of the hole and stared at it in disbelief. It only took a moment before he started giving the truck’s tailgate a few hard punches.
“You think?” Sam sighed.
The brothers shared a look, before they slowly climbed out of the Impala.
“You okay, Dad?” Dean called to their father.
John Winchester turned around and gave his sons an exasperated look. “You hurt?” He asked instead of giving an answer.
“We’re fine.” Sam replied.
Dean nodded affirmatively. “All good.” He gave his father the thumb’s up.
“The freaking street just caved in!” John cursed, giving his truck another punch with the palm of his hands.
“The rain must have weakened the foundation.” Sam said quietly.
John grumbled something incomprehensible and both boys decided it was better to not say anything more on the subject.
“We gotta take the Impala. I don’t think the truck is going to drive anywhere right now.” John growled, looking ruefully at his beloved truck.
“There’s a town about half an hour from here. We could tow the truck there. Could the Impala do it?”
“Tow the truck?” Dean stared affronted at his brother. “No way, forget it. Do you have any idea what this could do to the transmission? Or the differential? I’m not gonna risk my car.”
He went back to the Impala and started rummaging through the glove box. After a moment, he triumphantly held up an Automobile Association Card. „David Goodale from Tipton, Indiana, is going to help us with that little problem.
Sam looked doubtful at the card. “It won't work if he's declared it stolen by now. We've had that like forever.“
Dean looked smugly at his brother. „THAT, little brother, is the beauty of this card. The guy threw out his second card. He doesn't know it's stolen.“
“What if he's canceled it since then? This card is expired.“
“Have a little faith, Sammy. We’ll say the new card is at home. We forgot to change this out.“ Dean waved off the argument. “Just take the card and make the call.”
“Why do I have to make the call? You found the card.”
“You’re the trustworthy one in this family, Sammy boy. Here.” Dean threw the card at his brother and turned away to join his father checking out the damage to the truck.
With a defeated sigh, Sam pulled out his phone and made the call.
Finding a towing service proved more difficult than expected though, even with AAA’s help. After ten minutes, Sam ended the call with the last garage in the surrounding area with an exasperated sigh. “We better start repacking your weapons, Dad. There seems to be some kind of major traffic jam a few miles from here and no one is willing to come.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean groaned.
“Well …” John sighed and looked thoughtfully at the Impala.
“We’re not using my car.” Dean said quickly.
Sam rolled his eyes and for a moment it seemed John was going to do the same. He held back though, shrugged and opened the truck’s bed. “Let’s start reloading. I want to be in town before night. Maybe we can borrow a tow truck and tow the truck into town ourselves.”
They stowed John’s weapons in the Impala, careful not to let any of the other drivers who were slowly driving by see what they were doing. John’s truck was well stocked and not all of its weaponry fit into the Impala’s trunk. Some of it they had to place on the backseat, hidden under blankets.
It took them close to half an hour, but eventually they were back on the road again. Sam had claimed his seat on the passenger seat, forcing their father to climb on the backseat. Except for a raised brow, John had surprisingly said nothing against this.
---SPN---
“This is nice, huh?” Dean stated grinning about an hour after they had hit the road again. “All three of us in one car again.”
His words were met with a cold silence.
“Come on, it’s not that bad.” He tried to break the quiet.
“Dean, we haven’t moved at all in the last half hour.” Sam groaned. He was no longer surprised that no towing service had been willing to help them out.
“It’s a little traffic jam, not a big deal.” Dean shrugged.
“A little?” John growled from the back seat, eyebrow raised.
“Well, it can’t go on forever, right?” Dean said.
John and Sam stayed silent. Dean tried to see the bright side - at least they were agreeing on the matter. Things were still good.
In the rearview mirror he saw a motorcycle drive by the stationary cars, quickly coming closer. Sighing, he patted the Impala’s wheel. A motorcycle would get them through this jam in no time. But leaving the Impala behind? The world would have to go down before he’d trade his baby for two wheels, much less anything else.
He had just finished the thought, when Sam suddenly jumped up in his seat.
“Whoa!” He cried out, scrambling back from the window and staring at the meadow at the side of the road with wide eyes.
“Sam?”
“What’s wrong?” John asked from behind.
“That … there’s … don’t you see?” Sam stuttered, still staring out of the window.
Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to see what had his brother so freaked out. “I see nothing. Sam, what …”
“Holy shit!” Sam jerked away from the window even more, his hands going up to protect his face.
“What is it?” Dean asked, panic in his voice at not being able to see what Sam was seeing and yet trying to protect him from it. He wrapped an arm around Sam in an attempt to calm him, continuously staring out the window, trying to see what had made his brother freak out like this.
John had his gun out and the window wound down, ready to take out anything that might threaten his sons. He couldn’t see anything either - just an empty meadow with only a few trees on it.
“Sam, calm down!” He barked.
The words had just left his mouth, when Sam suddenly cried out in pain and clapped his hands over his head, knuckles pressed tightly against his temples. His eyes closed and he doubled over in pain.
“Shit, not now.” Dean cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” John called out worriedly. He leaned forward, one hand on Sam’s back, the other still firmly wrapped around his gun.
“Sam?” Carefully, Dean turned Sam around, away from the window, until he could face him. “Just breathe, Sammy, it’ll be okay.” He spoke soothingly, his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Sam, you hear me?”
“What’s wrong with him?” John demanded, wanting, needing to know.
“Not now, Dad.” Dean snapped; his eyes fixed on his brother. “Sam?”
“Dean?” Sam’s whispered voice sounded hoarse, almost inaudible. He was breathing heavily as he tried to bring his trembling body back under control.
Dean hated that this voice sounded so familiar to him by now. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s over.” He repeated as he gently stroked Sam’s back, willing himself to stay calm, to not freak out no matter how much he wished he could.
This wasn’t normal. Sam didn’t look normal. This vision didn’t look normal. And just thinking about it was a whole new matter of freaking out worthy, because since when was watching your brother having a vision normal? Apart from the clutching the head part though, this didn’t look like a vision. Sam’s eyes weren’t glazed over like he wasn’t there. His eyes looked like … like they were seeing, really seeing. And Dean caught himself searching the meadow again for anything that might have given Sam such a scare. From the way Sam was looking, there had to have been something.
“What did you see?” He eventually asked, practically forcing the words out while being proud of himself for sounding not freaked out!
“I … I’m not sure.” Sam looked helplessly at his brother.
Dean swallowed. “The demon? Did you see the demon? Or some weirdo death? Another knife throwing freak? What was it?” Dean inhaled deeply, forcing himself to shut up. His ramblings didn’t help anyone.
“What are you talking about?” John asked, shocked at what he was hearing.
Dean held up his hand for him to wait. “Sam?”
The youngest Winchester shook his head, his eyes going out over the meadow again. “No, I … I don’t think so. I … It was here.”
“Here? The demon was here?” Dean asked, his eyes following Sam’s.
“No. There was no demon.” Sam sighed impatiently. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Like Sam, Dean inhaled deeply before he went on in a calmer voice. “What did you see?”
“I think … it looked like some kind of … battle.”
“A battle?” Dean asked surprised.
“Yeah … and … it looked like … “ Sam looked hesitantly at his brother.
“Like what?” Dean urged him to go on.
“Like Cowboys and Indians.”
TBC