Fic: What Is Hell to a Demon
Title: What Is Hell To A Demon (Pt 2)
Author: Ebbtide
Series: Supernatural
The summoning ritual was almost complete. Five more minutes and the boys would finally know what had happened to their mother, Mary Winchester. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought.
The door opened, they both turned in that direction in surprise. Exchanging worried glances, Dean and Sam each reached for their personal weapons. Dean, the pistol he kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Sam, the gun tucked in the small of his back. Weapons at the ready the two men stood slowly, falling into the old routine. Dean in front, on the left of the hallway entrance, Sam on the right a step behind.
There was a muttering of voices and then the sound of several people moving up the stairs. Then silence.
"Well, this can't be good." Dean whispered.
"You think?" Sam replied darkly. "We have to get this stuff cleaned up and out of here before someone comes downstairs. We'll just have to come back another time."
Dean felt himself losing it at the thought that they had come so close to having answers only to be foiled at the last moment. He knew his brother was right. It only took them a few moments to scoop everything from the kitchen table into their duffle bag, the ritual ingredients mixing together in a jumbled mess.
With one last look to make sure they had not missed anything by accident, Dean followed Sam out the back door and then they made their way around the front to where the Impala sat, a stoic guard.
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"Talk about bad luck." Dean complained when they made it back to their room. "Ten more minutes and we would have had answers."
"Maybe." Sam replied, still not convinced that their desperate search for answers would reveal anything at all.
Dean rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. "Come on, man. You've got to give me a little trust on this one, okay."
"I am, Dean. I mean, hell, I helped you break into some poor family's house and - ." Sam looked over at his brother and stopped abruptly.
Dean let his legs collapse out from under him, sending him to the floor in a graceless slump. He held his hands, fisted, over his ears a low moan escaping between clenched teeth.
"Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Sam knelt at his brother's side. It only took a moment to recognize the hurt filled, anguished look in Dean Winchesters eyes another moment passed by and then Sam realized the cause. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to say he- I didn't mean to say it."
Sam had tried to be careful around his brother, but Dean had been making so many improvements in the past few weeks it was becoming harder and harder to remember just how broken his brother really was inside. Twice before he had made the mistake of using the curse word ‘hell' in his brother's hearing and each time it left the older man a mess. Sam wanted to kick himself for committing the same error yet again.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. Everything's going to be alright. I'm here, you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."
The single, carelessly used word had been an instant, irresistible reminder of the real place. That place of blinding pain and hopelessness. Dean bowed his head, ashamed of the weakness that he could not seem to shake. He was suppose to be the older brother - the strong one.
"It's alright, Dean." Sam spoke softly.
Dean took a deep, ragged breath and blew it out slowly to calm his nerves. After another few moments he felt collected enough to stand. He pushed his brother away in a gentle shove.
"I'm fine now, dude." He reassured the younger man with a wan smile. "Once we get back home....figure out what's really going on - I'll be a lot better then, but for now I'm fine."
Sam watched him closely through long bangs. He wished that he could just believe the reassurances, wished that he did not know the truth. His brother would take a long, long time to be fine.
CHAPTER THREE: DISCOVERING IN RECOVERY
"This looks like as good a place as any." Dean announced as he pulled the car into a deserted motel parking lot.
The elder Winchester's eyes were burning from fatigue and his stomach rumbled.
"Why don't you go get us something to eat from that gas station we just passed." He said. "I'll go get checked in."
Sam gladly took the twenty bucks his brother handed him. Opening the car door he unfolded his tall, lanky form, stretching out knotted muscles.
"Be back in a few minutes." Sam said as he started walking the block to where the gas station lights flickered ominously. He prayed it was just a power shortage somewhere and held his breath until the lights steadied. "Anything specific you want, Dean?"
"Food." Dean answered sarcastically over his shoulder as he elbowed open the door to the motel lobby.
"Right. Food." Sam muttered under his breath with an eye roll.
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That night, for the first time in eighteen days, both boys got a full night of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares or visions of death. The next morning the sun's light stroked their faces softly, waking them to a new day.
Dean sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes - not even noticing, in his sleepy haze, that there had been no phantom burns or accompanying memories of the fires. He yawned and threw a pillow at his still-snoring brother.
"Wakey, wakey, Sam." He huffed when this had no affect on the dark haired man. "Wake up, damn it, or I'm going to start singing."
Sam was up, the blankets thrown off, at the threat. The last thing he ever wanted to hear after waking up in the morning was the sound of his brother's singing. He winced at the memory of their "Christmas caroling" months before. Yawning, he stretched his arms above his head.
"What time is it?"
Dean looked for a clock, but the room did not seem to have one. "Damned if I know."
"Watch." Sam pointed out sharply.
"Oh." Dean looked down at the forgotten time-keeper. "It's, uh, 5:30 in the morning."
"Good, that will give us at least 300 miles before nightfall if we leave right away." Sam said.
"Yeah, and I finally think I know where we need to go." Dean said quietly. It had been preying on his mind for a week now, but he had wanted to be sure before mentioning it to his brother.
"Where's that?"
Dean cleared his throat. "Home. Lawrence."
"Why home?" Sam asked defensively.
He felt his body tense at the memories of that building and of seeing his mother burning up. Sam blinked away tears and took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions.
"How can going back there help anything?"
"'Cause."
"Oh, compelling argument." Sam snapped.
Dean knew this would be hard on his brother, hell it was hard on him, but he also knew that it was the right thing to do. Their mother had given up a part of her soul in that house and if she was connected to any thing or any place, it would be there. Dean began packing his own duffel bag, avoiding his brother's accusing gaze.
"It just feels right."
"And you always call me the illogical one!"
At that, Dean straightened and glared at his brother. They stood in charged silence, staring at each other from opposite sides of the motel room. Each wordlessly expressing their opinion on the matter. Finally, Sam turned his head away.
"Fine. We'll do this your way, Dean." He conceded in a low voice. "But when nothing comes of it, I'll be saying I told you so."
Dean grinned and shrugged. "I'm the oldest...I know that this is the right thing to do."
Sam chuckled. "Just like you know everything, right?"
"Damn straight."
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The drive was long and silent, except for the occasional monosyllable response to an equally short question. Dean enjoyed the feel of the wheel, his foot barely letting up on the gas pedal as they journeyed back to their childhood home. Many times Dean had wondered just what their lives would have been like growing up if they had never lived in that house. He wondered if it would have changed anything.
Sam watched the scenery pass by, but his mind was focused on thoughts of darkness. Every moment of every day for the past several months he had been acutely aware of his abilities - those special powers that made him something more than human. A boiling pit of emptiness threatened to darken his mood and he decided it would be best to get some sleep instead of brooding on such uncertain topics. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the window.
"Wake me when we get there." He mumbled to his brother.
Dean glanced over at Sam and frowned. He knew how difficult things were on the younger Winchester. As always, the dark haired man took things harder than others. Knowing that he had made a grievous mistake in giving in to his dark powers had left him vulnerable to the worst kind of torture. Self-torture. Guilt and doubts. If it was the last thing Dean did, he would make his little brother whole again. No more nightmare filled dreams, no more angry mood swings. Gripping the wheel tighter in his hands, Dean swore he would fix things for Sam.
As day slid into dusk and then night the black Impala sped down highways and back roads on a desperate run to reach Lawrence, Kansas. The radio blasted rock music of yesteryear with the occasional accompaniment of a tiring Dean. Mile post after mile post flashed by in a blur of green until finally the Impala's bright headlights illuminated an all-to-familiar rusted sign. Lawrence.
"Dude, we made it." Dean slapped his brothers shoulder. "We're here, Sam."
"Mph."
Sam sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Home?" He asked in a groggy drawl.
"Minutes away."
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They pulled up to the shadow clothed building, Dean bringing the car to a slow stop. The tree that had stood in front of the house was gone, replaced by finely manicured lawn, and the outside had been repainted a garish yellow. The house lights were on downstairs, but the upstairs was dark. As they watched, three teenage girls walked past the living room window, giggling and whispering into each others ears.
"Looks like new home owners." Dean said with a sigh.
He proved correct when an older man and woman came into view, both unfamiliar to the brothers.
"Well, this is going to make things a little harder." Sam said.
"You think?"
The Winchesters knew that there was nothing stopping them from entering that house and looking for any supernatural trace their mother may have left behind. They had weapons, experience and nothing to lose. The only thing holding them back was the knowledge that the family inside that house was blissfully unaware of the dangers it had once housed. Never in a million years would they wish even a sliver of their lives onto someone else. No, they would wait until the new home owners were gone and then they would do what needed to be done.
"Hotel?" Sam asked in a resigned tone.
"Hotel." Dean agreed, putting the car into gear.
The people in the house never noticed the black Impala, it's occupants tired, worn and emotionally weary. Laughter and happiness filled the house that now belonged to two up-and-coming authors and their three daughters. A stark contrast to the fractured history of the Winchester's time there before the fire. The new owners had never even heard of the fire.
Fates cruel humor.
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"You should have seen the look on your face, Dean!" Sam burst out into laughter, holding his side. "I thought you were going to pop that waitress in the mouth when she said that."
Dean shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yeah, well, she shouldn't have said it."
Sam could hear the undercurrent of anger in his brother's tone, but somehow that just seemed to add to the humor of the situation. After all, it was not every day that Dean was thrown so completely. At least, not for several days. Sam sobered at the thought. His brother was healing, recovering from everything Hell had thrown at him. It brought a sparkle of hope to Sam's eyes and he looked over at his brother, who still fumed at his slip earlier in the diner, glad that they were together again.
"We should go back tomorrow morning. It's a school day, so that takes care of the kids, and if both parents work then it should be the best time for us to get in there."
Dean considered the suggestion. "Sounds good enough for me."
"I'll order pizza." Sam volunteered as he reached for the room phone.
Dean organized his things, which meant pulling them out of the green bag and haphazardly strewing them about on his bed. He picked up a few shirts, giving each a strong sniff before finally settling on a white and blue t-shirt that smelled fresh enough. He shrugged off his old, dirty shirt and threw it onto the pile of clothes.
"We're going to have to find a laundry mat too." He muttered with a grimace.
He hated doing laundry, but it was a necessity. Maybe - he glanced slyly over at his brother from the corner of his eye - he could sweet talk his Sam into doing the job instead. Domestic chores never really seemed to bother the younger Winchester.
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They stood outside the door to the empty house - they had made sure that the owners were out for the day - neither wanting to take that final step that would take them over the threshold of the doorway. Sam cleared his throat after a few moments of strained silence. He held out his arm in invitation.
"This was your idea, Dean."
The elder Winchester frowned at the truth of the words and with a steadying breath he pushed his way into the house. It was quiet, filled with alien furniture and pictures of a smiling, happy family. He fooled the familiar hallway into the kitchen. Dean could still see the ghostly form of his mother as she had been years before when they had come back on the heels of Sam's disturbing vision.
"What now?" Sam asked, he looked around the room for any clue that would explain why his older brother had brought them there. He saw nothing but a new kitchenette set and a few sprouting plants on the windowsill over the sink. It was the typical American kitchen with no lingering visual scars to attest to the horrible ordeals it had witnessed.
"I think we need to summon Mom." Dean spoke hesitantly. He was not sure at all that it was the right move, but in his long career as a Hunter experience had taught him the hard way that following his gut instincts rarely led him astray. "I've got the stuff in my bag."
"I'll run out to the trunk." Sam volunteered, swallowing hard at the emotions brought out under the pressure of memories. "Be right back."
Once his brother had left, the front door closing with a soft click behind him, Dean let his defenses fall. His gaze moved upward to the ceiling.
"Mom? Can you hear me?" His voice broke painfully. "I need to know that you can hear me. Mom, please."
There was no response from the oppressive silence. A loneliness descended on him, coming from that place in his heart that he had tried so hard to keep covered up when around Sam. The lost and broken pieces of his soul that Hell had torn wide open. It consumed him now, that emptiness that had been his only company in Hell. A single tear teetered on the edge of his lashes before plunging down his cheek to slip off his chin and drip to the floor. A silent testament to the pain he had been forced through.
"I got it, Dean!" Sam's voice came from the front of the house.
Footsteps approached down the hallway and Dean quickly wiped away the sign of his weakness. He pulled on a brave, calm face.
"Good." He rubbed his hands together. "Lets get started."
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The summoning ritual was almost complete. Five more minutes and the boys would finally know what had happened to their mother, Mary Winchester. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought.
The door opened, they both turned in that direction in surprise. Exchanging worried glances, Dean and Sam each reached for their personal weapons. Dean, the pistol he kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Sam, the gun tucked in the small of his back. Weapons at the ready the two men stood slowly, falling into the old routine. Dean in front, on the left of the hallway entrance, Sam on the right a step behind.
There was a muttering of voices and then the sound of several people moving up the stairs. Then silence.
"Well, this can't be good." Dean whispered.
"You think?" Sam replied darkly. "We have to get this stuff cleaned up and out of here before someone comes downstairs. We'll just have to come back another time."
Dean felt himself losing it at the thought that they had come so close to having answers only to be foiled at the last moment. He knew his brother was right. It only took them a few moments to scoop everything from the kitchen table into their duffle bag, the ritual ingredients mixing together in a jumbled mess.
With one last look to make sure they had not missed anything by accident, Dean followed Sam out the back door and then they made their way around the front to where the Impala sat, a stoic guard.
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"Talk about bad luck." Dean complained when they made it back to their room. "Ten more minutes and we would have had answers."
"Maybe." Sam replied, still not convinced that their desperate search for answers would reveal anything at all.
Dean rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. "Come on, man. You've got to give me a little trust on this one, okay."
"I am, Dean. I mean, hell, I helped you break into some poor family's house and - ." Sam looked over at his brother and stopped abruptly.
Dean let his legs collapse out from under him, sending him to the floor in a graceless slump. He held his hands, fisted, over his ears a low moan escaping between clenched teeth.
"Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Sam knelt at his brother's side. It only took a moment to recognize the hurt filled, anguished look in Dean Winchesters eyes another moment passed by and then Sam realized the cause. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to say he- I didn't mean to say it."
Sam had tried to be careful around his brother, but Dean had been making so many improvements in the past few weeks it was becoming harder and harder to remember just how broken his brother really was inside. Twice before he had made the mistake of using the curse word ‘hell' in his brother's hearing and each time it left the older man a mess. Sam wanted to kick himself for committing the same error yet again.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. Everything's going to be alright. I'm here, you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."
The single, carelessly used word had been an instant, irresistible reminder of the real place. That place of blinding pain and hopelessness. Dean bowed his head, ashamed of the weakness that he could not seem to shake. He was suppose to be the older brother - the strong one.
"It's alright, Dean." Sam spoke softly.
Dean took a deep, ragged breath and blew it out slowly to calm his nerves. After another few moments he felt collected enough to stand. He pushed his brother away in a gentle shove.
"I'm fine now, dude." He reassured the younger man with a wan smile. "Once we get back home....figure out what's really going on - I'll be a lot better then, but for now I'm fine."
Sam watched him closely through long bangs. He wished that he could just believe the reassurances, wished that he did not know the truth. His brother would take a long, long time to be fine.
"It would have to be a weekend!" Dean complained, slapping his hand hard against the Impala's black steering wheel. He huffed angrily. "Now we'll have to wait until Monday - assuming the house will be empty by then."
"It's Saturday, not the end of the world. Just relax." Sam tried to calm his brother. "You're going to get upset and that's the last thing that you need."
"Newsflash - I'm already upset!" Dean ground out with a deep frown.
"Yeah, well, get un-upset." Sam sighed heavily. "We both know that it won't do anyone any good for you to have another anxiety attack."
"I'm surprised that you're taking this as well as you are. After all, little brother, with your powers we could be in there and out before they even knew what hit them."
Sam flinched. "What hit them? Nice, Dean. Now I see what a sterling opinion you have of me and my...gifts."
"I didn't mean it like that." Dean responded defensively. "I only meant that if you're even half as wired up as I am to see mom again and find out what happened then - wait." He stopped, Sam was avoiding his gaze. "You don't think that she's really in heaven, do you? You think I imagined the entire rescue."
Sam shook his head, but his gaze remained averted. "It's not like that."
"Really? ‘Cause that's sure how it's looking from here. Mind explaining?"
Sam opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. He searched for the right words that would explain how confused he felt inside. On the one hand he knew that his brother had not just mysteriously appeared in that alley without some ones - or some things - help, but on the other hand their mothers soul had been destroyed years before.
"Why don't we go back to the motel? We can relax, watch some TV or something. Beats waiting around here on the off chance they might go out."
"You're changing the subject." Dean said. He took one last look at the house and gave in. "Alright. We'll come back tomorrow - maybe we'll get lucky and they'll go to the beach."
Sam chuckled at his brothers sarcastic words. "Yeah, the beach - in Kansas." He responded with equal sarcasm.
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"Anything good?" Dean asked as he exited the bathroom of their motel room after a long, cool shower.
Sam looked up from the local newspaper he had been idly perusing. "If there was even a hint of a Hunt would you really want me to tell you?"
"Honestly?" Dean asked. "Probably not."
"Good then." Sam went back to reading his paper.
"Why? Is there something?" Dean let his curiosity get the better of him. When his brother merely shrugged, he sauntered up behind the dark haired man to read over his shoulder. "The dead girl, towards the bottom?" He asked after a few moments of scanning the paper.
Sam sighed heavily and folded the paper over so that the referred to obituary was hidden from sight. "Yes. Now let it go. The last thing we need is a Hunt on our hands - neither one of us is exactly in top shape."
Dean dipped his chin. "True, but maybe this is what I need. You know, get back into the thick of things."
Sam laughed bitterly. "I really don't think so, Dean."
"Come on! We've got a whole weekend and I'm going stir-crazy already." Dean paced the room as if to prove his point. "A Hunt would take my mind off of things."
Sam frowned. "Or it could get you killed...again. No, Dean. End of discussion."
Dean clenched his jaw.
"Besides." Sam added, jerking his thumb towards the mess of clothes on and around Dean's bed. "If you're that desperate for something to do I saw a laundry mat a couple of blocks away."
Dean spread his hands. "No way, man."
Sam lifted an eyebrow. "You're the one complaining about the dirty clothes and you're the one with nothing better to do."
"What do you plan on being busy doing while I'm waiting in a room full of screaming kids and gossiping old ladies?"
"Sleep." Sam's eyes suddenly grew shadowed, haunted and forlorn. "I just want to sleep."
"Okay, Sammy. I'll get out of your hair for a couple of hours." Dean submitted after a moment. "Sorry, for yelling."
Sam shrugged, kicking off his shoes as he made his way over to his bed. Dean quickly gathered up all of the clothes he could fit into his duffle bag. He grabbed the extra room key and drove the Impala to the laundry mat. It took him a few minutes to get everything going, but once it was started he sat down in an uncomfortable, blue plastic chair to wait.
His gaze traveled from object to object in the large, open room looking for something to focus his attention on. It settled finally on a newspaper - the same paper his brother had been reading before - and his earlier curiosity fighting to the forefront, he picked it up and started to read. The girl's story was a horrible one and by the end of the rather short, irritatingly vague article, Dean was even more prepared to Hunt down and kill whatever had left the girl so damaged.
TEENAGE GIRL MAULED BY WILDCAT
Mindy Danielson, 17, was found by a park ranger not far from the South park entrance Tuesday afternoon. She was rushed to the local hospital, no release has been given thus far on her medical condition. A number of recent wildcat attacks in the area have lead the authorities to believe that she was surprised while on a hiking trip. Her family could not be reached for additional details.
Although the doctors will not give up any information on Mindy's current status, they did confirm that her injuries supported the alleged wildcat attack. State troopers, local authorities, volunteers and the park service are working together to canvas the area in search of the ferocious animal.
Dean stopped reading.
If all those people were going to go after whatever attacked the girl there was a good chance someone else would get hurt or killed. Sam would need to be convinced that their help was needed in this case - after all, if they did not stop whatever was harming these locals no one else would. No once else could. With a heavy sigh Dean sat back and tried to think of a convincing argument. He had over an hour to come up with something and as a Winchester, BS was par for the course. Unfortunately, his brother was fluent in the language. Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
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"They're gone."
Those were Sam's first words when Dean returned with the clean laundry.
"How do you know?"
"I just went over there." Sam shrugged at the look his brother shot him. "What? I felt like walking, okay."
A knowing glint twinkled in Dean's eye. "Room too small?"
"Yeah, a little." Sam ducked his head. "I never said it wasn't, just for the record."
"Uh, huh." Dean smirked.
"Shut up."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
The tension that had been building between them for the past few days melted in the face of familiar snark. Dean flashed Sam a bright smile.
"Lets get to it then, little brother."
He flung the bag of clothes off his shoulder and onto the floor. The Hunt could wait, finding answers was more important.
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This time the ritual went off without a hitch. Dean felt his blood pump faster, the sound rushing in his ears, as they incanted the last few words of Latin. There was a rush of paranormal wind, brushing their hair back with soft fingers, and then silence. Stillness.
Nothing happened.
Sam shifted, his eyes going from the alter to Dean and then back again.
Dean stared at the alter, unblinking.
Still nothing happened.
The silence became oppressive as they waited for their mother to appear.
She did not.
"Well, this was a crap idea." Sam muttered.
"Shhh!" Dean hissed.
Nothing happened - the silence remained.
"I told you so." Sam sighed sadly. He knew how much this meant to his brother, but he also knew that their mothers soul was gone - destroyed in an effort to rescue them from a malevolent poltergeist.
Dean's complete focus was on the alter and his gaze did not waver even for a moment. He had complete faith that their mother would show up. Just another moment, just one more second. He told himself over and over in his mind. Still nothing happened.
The silence grew.
"Admit it." Sam said softly, after a few more minutes went by. "She's not coming. She can't - wherever she is now. . .she just can't."
"I know what I saw. I know it was her. I know that she'll come." Dean bit off the words in abrupt sentences. "I know."
Sam sat back on the floor and watched his brother's intense stare. He knew there would be no convincing the older man and he was ready to wait it out. Either way, their mothers soul had not been summoned, that much was abundantly clear.
"Come on! Fuck!" Dean shouted, startling Sam. "Come on!"
Dean felt betrayal cut through him like a razor sharp knife. He knew that his mother was still around, knew that she could see him - after all, angels were suppose to be able to do anything, right? He felt his throat tighten at the thought that she was avoiding him. Why had the ritual not worked? Mary Winchester had become a memory surrounded by perfection, in his mind and now that perfect glow of memory was fading. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Dean. Maybe..."
"Maybe what?" Dean snapped angrily. "Maybe I imagined the whole thing? I don't think so, Sam."
The brothers exchanged stubborn glares, neither willing to back down this time. There was no way that Sam could let Dean keep kidding himself and Dean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their mother was an angel.
A soft murmur of voices drifted into the room. They looked around for the source.
"Dean."
Dean whirled around at the sound of his mother's voice. She stood there, in the middle of a strangers kitchen, white light emanating from within her body. Wings of soft, silky feathers shimmered in the daylight streaming through the window. She smiled.
"Dean. You're safe now."
Dean stood slowly to his feet, Sam following his lead, and took a single step towards his mother.
"You are an angel. I knew it." He said softly.
"Mom?" Sam whispered.
Mary's gaze turned to the younger man.
"Sam." The corner of her lips turned up slightly. "Everything will be alright."
"But - how is this possible?" Sam's eyes began to tear. "How?"
A true smile shone from her face, lighting the room. "Oh, honey. I know all of the things that you did."
Sam felt his heart skip a beat, horrified at the thought that his mother had somehow known all of the terrible atrocities he had committed. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to explain, he felt the words bubbling up inside him, but before he could say anything she shook her head.
"Don't, Sam. It's alright, darling."
Her wings fluttered, floating her forward, until she could easily touch either of the men.
"Mom. How?" Dean echoed Sam's earlier question.
She brushed his chin lightly with the edge of her wing. "There are some things you can't know yet, son."
"What does that suppose to even mean? We called you here because we want some answers." Dean said.
"All I am allowed to tell you is this." She put a her left hand on Sam's shoulder and her right on Dean's. "All the darkness and pain will fade. You will both make it through this and be stronger for it."
"It doesn't feel like that's possible." Dean said, his throat tightening. "Some days I feel like I can't keep going." A desperation broke his voice. "Mom, I can't forget."
"Shhh." She moved the hand over his mouth. "I know you have questions and I know it's hard, but, Dean, I know - I really know - that things will get better for both of you."
"But you can't explain any of it?"
"I'm sorry."
"Well, that's just great." Dean groused, trying for bravado. "Now what?"
"You Hunt." She said matter-of-factly.
Sam drew in a sharp breath. "Mom, after all the things that I did...What if Hunting puts me in a situation where I - where I do something unforgivable? It got easier to use my powers for...questionable - I mean." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to ever do those things again."
"You won't. Everything that you've learned about your powers will help you and your brother. When you are Hunting, I'll be there with you, watching over you. I won't let you hurt anyone."
Sam lost his fight with the tears and they cascaded down his cheeks. "Where were you?" He implored her through a gut wrenching sob. "All those months - when I was alone - where were you at?"
Mary's chin trembled with emotion. "Oh, honey." Her wings came forward and she enfolded him in a feathery hug. "I'm so sorry." Pulling back a little she included Dean in the hug. "I am so sorry, sons. I came as soon as I could. I did as much as I could."
Sam's shoulders shook under her firm embrace. He could feel the strength in her, it was a part of her that he could sense with his super-human abilities. The dark haired man let himself get lost in the knowledge that she was there finally to help him. It had taken over twenty years, but his mother was there for him.
"Darlings, I found a way to help you. It just took a while, that‘s all."
Dean breathed in her smell, a light flowery scent, and felt the warmth of her living body. It was so different from the last time he had seen her in this same room. The fire and confusion that had infused those memories were overwritten now with this new Mary Winchester. He smiled, all of the questions and fears melting away in the presence of his mother. He relaxed into her embrace.
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A passerby outside the house noticed a reflective light inside, sending out rays of blinding light. The old man shrugged in his over-large coat and shook his head. Strange things were always happening with that house and it‘s owners. Deciding it was none of his business, the man continued on his way home after a hard days work.
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"Mom."
Dean stepped back from the hug. He felt like all of his problems had been washed away. He felt new and whole for the first time in so very long, it was like a perfect dream. Dean smiled in genuine joy. For the first time since his fifth birthday he felt complete peace fill him.
"So, Hunting, is it?" He asked, his voice steady and strong.
Sam held on to his mother for several moments longer before finally letting her go. "Yeah." He answered his brother with a matching smile. "Hunting."
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Mary Winchester watched her children sleep. It had been a long day for them both, but they had come out of it healed. She knew there would be new trials, but she also knew that together they could make it through - and there was no force in heaven, hell or earth that could tear her away from their side.
She had a long ways to go to get them in top shape and with the number of demons still in need of vanquishing it was imperative that her sons get back into the battle. Thousands would be saved in the long run, but all that mattered to her was the two men sleeping in front of her, on those dingy motel beds. Mary wings folded behind her back, she knelt next to their beds in turn and gave them both a goodnight kiss.
Their story was just beginning.
THE END
_+_
Author: Ebbtide
Series: Supernatural
The summoning ritual was almost complete. Five more minutes and the boys would finally know what had happened to their mother, Mary Winchester. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought.
The door opened, they both turned in that direction in surprise. Exchanging worried glances, Dean and Sam each reached for their personal weapons. Dean, the pistol he kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Sam, the gun tucked in the small of his back. Weapons at the ready the two men stood slowly, falling into the old routine. Dean in front, on the left of the hallway entrance, Sam on the right a step behind.
There was a muttering of voices and then the sound of several people moving up the stairs. Then silence.
"Well, this can't be good." Dean whispered.
"You think?" Sam replied darkly. "We have to get this stuff cleaned up and out of here before someone comes downstairs. We'll just have to come back another time."
Dean felt himself losing it at the thought that they had come so close to having answers only to be foiled at the last moment. He knew his brother was right. It only took them a few moments to scoop everything from the kitchen table into their duffle bag, the ritual ingredients mixing together in a jumbled mess.
With one last look to make sure they had not missed anything by accident, Dean followed Sam out the back door and then they made their way around the front to where the Impala sat, a stoic guard.
***************************************************************************************
"Talk about bad luck." Dean complained when they made it back to their room. "Ten more minutes and we would have had answers."
"Maybe." Sam replied, still not convinced that their desperate search for answers would reveal anything at all.
Dean rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. "Come on, man. You've got to give me a little trust on this one, okay."
"I am, Dean. I mean, hell, I helped you break into some poor family's house and - ." Sam looked over at his brother and stopped abruptly.
Dean let his legs collapse out from under him, sending him to the floor in a graceless slump. He held his hands, fisted, over his ears a low moan escaping between clenched teeth.
"Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Sam knelt at his brother's side. It only took a moment to recognize the hurt filled, anguished look in Dean Winchesters eyes another moment passed by and then Sam realized the cause. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to say he- I didn't mean to say it."
Sam had tried to be careful around his brother, but Dean had been making so many improvements in the past few weeks it was becoming harder and harder to remember just how broken his brother really was inside. Twice before he had made the mistake of using the curse word ‘hell' in his brother's hearing and each time it left the older man a mess. Sam wanted to kick himself for committing the same error yet again.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. Everything's going to be alright. I'm here, you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."
The single, carelessly used word had been an instant, irresistible reminder of the real place. That place of blinding pain and hopelessness. Dean bowed his head, ashamed of the weakness that he could not seem to shake. He was suppose to be the older brother - the strong one.
"It's alright, Dean." Sam spoke softly.
Dean took a deep, ragged breath and blew it out slowly to calm his nerves. After another few moments he felt collected enough to stand. He pushed his brother away in a gentle shove.
"I'm fine now, dude." He reassured the younger man with a wan smile. "Once we get back home....figure out what's really going on - I'll be a lot better then, but for now I'm fine."
Sam watched him closely through long bangs. He wished that he could just believe the reassurances, wished that he did not know the truth. His brother would take a long, long time to be fine.
CHAPTER THREE: DISCOVERING IN RECOVERY
"This looks like as good a place as any." Dean announced as he pulled the car into a deserted motel parking lot.
The elder Winchester's eyes were burning from fatigue and his stomach rumbled.
"Why don't you go get us something to eat from that gas station we just passed." He said. "I'll go get checked in."
Sam gladly took the twenty bucks his brother handed him. Opening the car door he unfolded his tall, lanky form, stretching out knotted muscles.
"Be back in a few minutes." Sam said as he started walking the block to where the gas station lights flickered ominously. He prayed it was just a power shortage somewhere and held his breath until the lights steadied. "Anything specific you want, Dean?"
"Food." Dean answered sarcastically over his shoulder as he elbowed open the door to the motel lobby.
"Right. Food." Sam muttered under his breath with an eye roll.
**************************************************************************************
That night, for the first time in eighteen days, both boys got a full night of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares or visions of death. The next morning the sun's light stroked their faces softly, waking them to a new day.
Dean sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes - not even noticing, in his sleepy haze, that there had been no phantom burns or accompanying memories of the fires. He yawned and threw a pillow at his still-snoring brother.
"Wakey, wakey, Sam." He huffed when this had no affect on the dark haired man. "Wake up, damn it, or I'm going to start singing."
Sam was up, the blankets thrown off, at the threat. The last thing he ever wanted to hear after waking up in the morning was the sound of his brother's singing. He winced at the memory of their "Christmas caroling" months before. Yawning, he stretched his arms above his head.
"What time is it?"
Dean looked for a clock, but the room did not seem to have one. "Damned if I know."
"Watch." Sam pointed out sharply.
"Oh." Dean looked down at the forgotten time-keeper. "It's, uh, 5:30 in the morning."
"Good, that will give us at least 300 miles before nightfall if we leave right away." Sam said.
"Yeah, and I finally think I know where we need to go." Dean said quietly. It had been preying on his mind for a week now, but he had wanted to be sure before mentioning it to his brother.
"Where's that?"
Dean cleared his throat. "Home. Lawrence."
"Why home?" Sam asked defensively.
He felt his body tense at the memories of that building and of seeing his mother burning up. Sam blinked away tears and took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions.
"How can going back there help anything?"
"'Cause."
"Oh, compelling argument." Sam snapped.
Dean knew this would be hard on his brother, hell it was hard on him, but he also knew that it was the right thing to do. Their mother had given up a part of her soul in that house and if she was connected to any thing or any place, it would be there. Dean began packing his own duffel bag, avoiding his brother's accusing gaze.
"It just feels right."
"And you always call me the illogical one!"
At that, Dean straightened and glared at his brother. They stood in charged silence, staring at each other from opposite sides of the motel room. Each wordlessly expressing their opinion on the matter. Finally, Sam turned his head away.
"Fine. We'll do this your way, Dean." He conceded in a low voice. "But when nothing comes of it, I'll be saying I told you so."
Dean grinned and shrugged. "I'm the oldest...I know that this is the right thing to do."
Sam chuckled. "Just like you know everything, right?"
"Damn straight."
**************************************************************************************
The drive was long and silent, except for the occasional monosyllable response to an equally short question. Dean enjoyed the feel of the wheel, his foot barely letting up on the gas pedal as they journeyed back to their childhood home. Many times Dean had wondered just what their lives would have been like growing up if they had never lived in that house. He wondered if it would have changed anything.
Sam watched the scenery pass by, but his mind was focused on thoughts of darkness. Every moment of every day for the past several months he had been acutely aware of his abilities - those special powers that made him something more than human. A boiling pit of emptiness threatened to darken his mood and he decided it would be best to get some sleep instead of brooding on such uncertain topics. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the window.
"Wake me when we get there." He mumbled to his brother.
Dean glanced over at Sam and frowned. He knew how difficult things were on the younger Winchester. As always, the dark haired man took things harder than others. Knowing that he had made a grievous mistake in giving in to his dark powers had left him vulnerable to the worst kind of torture. Self-torture. Guilt and doubts. If it was the last thing Dean did, he would make his little brother whole again. No more nightmare filled dreams, no more angry mood swings. Gripping the wheel tighter in his hands, Dean swore he would fix things for Sam.
As day slid into dusk and then night the black Impala sped down highways and back roads on a desperate run to reach Lawrence, Kansas. The radio blasted rock music of yesteryear with the occasional accompaniment of a tiring Dean. Mile post after mile post flashed by in a blur of green until finally the Impala's bright headlights illuminated an all-to-familiar rusted sign. Lawrence.
"Dude, we made it." Dean slapped his brothers shoulder. "We're here, Sam."
"Mph."
Sam sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Home?" He asked in a groggy drawl.
"Minutes away."
*****************************************************************************************
They pulled up to the shadow clothed building, Dean bringing the car to a slow stop. The tree that had stood in front of the house was gone, replaced by finely manicured lawn, and the outside had been repainted a garish yellow. The house lights were on downstairs, but the upstairs was dark. As they watched, three teenage girls walked past the living room window, giggling and whispering into each others ears.
"Looks like new home owners." Dean said with a sigh.
He proved correct when an older man and woman came into view, both unfamiliar to the brothers.
"Well, this is going to make things a little harder." Sam said.
"You think?"
The Winchesters knew that there was nothing stopping them from entering that house and looking for any supernatural trace their mother may have left behind. They had weapons, experience and nothing to lose. The only thing holding them back was the knowledge that the family inside that house was blissfully unaware of the dangers it had once housed. Never in a million years would they wish even a sliver of their lives onto someone else. No, they would wait until the new home owners were gone and then they would do what needed to be done.
"Hotel?" Sam asked in a resigned tone.
"Hotel." Dean agreed, putting the car into gear.
The people in the house never noticed the black Impala, it's occupants tired, worn and emotionally weary. Laughter and happiness filled the house that now belonged to two up-and-coming authors and their three daughters. A stark contrast to the fractured history of the Winchester's time there before the fire. The new owners had never even heard of the fire.
Fates cruel humor.
**************************************************************************************
"You should have seen the look on your face, Dean!" Sam burst out into laughter, holding his side. "I thought you were going to pop that waitress in the mouth when she said that."
Dean shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yeah, well, she shouldn't have said it."
Sam could hear the undercurrent of anger in his brother's tone, but somehow that just seemed to add to the humor of the situation. After all, it was not every day that Dean was thrown so completely. At least, not for several days. Sam sobered at the thought. His brother was healing, recovering from everything Hell had thrown at him. It brought a sparkle of hope to Sam's eyes and he looked over at his brother, who still fumed at his slip earlier in the diner, glad that they were together again.
"We should go back tomorrow morning. It's a school day, so that takes care of the kids, and if both parents work then it should be the best time for us to get in there."
Dean considered the suggestion. "Sounds good enough for me."
"I'll order pizza." Sam volunteered as he reached for the room phone.
Dean organized his things, which meant pulling them out of the green bag and haphazardly strewing them about on his bed. He picked up a few shirts, giving each a strong sniff before finally settling on a white and blue t-shirt that smelled fresh enough. He shrugged off his old, dirty shirt and threw it onto the pile of clothes.
"We're going to have to find a laundry mat too." He muttered with a grimace.
He hated doing laundry, but it was a necessity. Maybe - he glanced slyly over at his brother from the corner of his eye - he could sweet talk his Sam into doing the job instead. Domestic chores never really seemed to bother the younger Winchester.
****************************************************************************************
They stood outside the door to the empty house - they had made sure that the owners were out for the day - neither wanting to take that final step that would take them over the threshold of the doorway. Sam cleared his throat after a few moments of strained silence. He held out his arm in invitation.
"This was your idea, Dean."
The elder Winchester frowned at the truth of the words and with a steadying breath he pushed his way into the house. It was quiet, filled with alien furniture and pictures of a smiling, happy family. He fooled the familiar hallway into the kitchen. Dean could still see the ghostly form of his mother as she had been years before when they had come back on the heels of Sam's disturbing vision.
"What now?" Sam asked, he looked around the room for any clue that would explain why his older brother had brought them there. He saw nothing but a new kitchenette set and a few sprouting plants on the windowsill over the sink. It was the typical American kitchen with no lingering visual scars to attest to the horrible ordeals it had witnessed.
"I think we need to summon Mom." Dean spoke hesitantly. He was not sure at all that it was the right move, but in his long career as a Hunter experience had taught him the hard way that following his gut instincts rarely led him astray. "I've got the stuff in my bag."
"I'll run out to the trunk." Sam volunteered, swallowing hard at the emotions brought out under the pressure of memories. "Be right back."
Once his brother had left, the front door closing with a soft click behind him, Dean let his defenses fall. His gaze moved upward to the ceiling.
"Mom? Can you hear me?" His voice broke painfully. "I need to know that you can hear me. Mom, please."
There was no response from the oppressive silence. A loneliness descended on him, coming from that place in his heart that he had tried so hard to keep covered up when around Sam. The lost and broken pieces of his soul that Hell had torn wide open. It consumed him now, that emptiness that had been his only company in Hell. A single tear teetered on the edge of his lashes before plunging down his cheek to slip off his chin and drip to the floor. A silent testament to the pain he had been forced through.
"I got it, Dean!" Sam's voice came from the front of the house.
Footsteps approached down the hallway and Dean quickly wiped away the sign of his weakness. He pulled on a brave, calm face.
"Good." He rubbed his hands together. "Lets get started."
***************************************************************************************
The summoning ritual was almost complete. Five more minutes and the boys would finally know what had happened to their mother, Mary Winchester. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up at the thought.
The door opened, they both turned in that direction in surprise. Exchanging worried glances, Dean and Sam each reached for their personal weapons. Dean, the pistol he kept in a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. Sam, the gun tucked in the small of his back. Weapons at the ready the two men stood slowly, falling into the old routine. Dean in front, on the left of the hallway entrance, Sam on the right a step behind.
There was a muttering of voices and then the sound of several people moving up the stairs. Then silence.
"Well, this can't be good." Dean whispered.
"You think?" Sam replied darkly. "We have to get this stuff cleaned up and out of here before someone comes downstairs. We'll just have to come back another time."
Dean felt himself losing it at the thought that they had come so close to having answers only to be foiled at the last moment. He knew his brother was right. It only took them a few moments to scoop everything from the kitchen table into their duffle bag, the ritual ingredients mixing together in a jumbled mess.
With one last look to make sure they had not missed anything by accident, Dean followed Sam out the back door and then they made their way around the front to where the Impala sat, a stoic guard.
***************************************************************************************
"Talk about bad luck." Dean complained when they made it back to their room. "Ten more minutes and we would have had answers."
"Maybe." Sam replied, still not convinced that their desperate search for answers would reveal anything at all.
Dean rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. "Come on, man. You've got to give me a little trust on this one, okay."
"I am, Dean. I mean, hell, I helped you break into some poor family's house and - ." Sam looked over at his brother and stopped abruptly.
Dean let his legs collapse out from under him, sending him to the floor in a graceless slump. He held his hands, fisted, over his ears a low moan escaping between clenched teeth.
"Dean, are you alright? Dean!" Sam knelt at his brother's side. It only took a moment to recognize the hurt filled, anguished look in Dean Winchesters eyes another moment passed by and then Sam realized the cause. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to say he- I didn't mean to say it."
Sam had tried to be careful around his brother, but Dean had been making so many improvements in the past few weeks it was becoming harder and harder to remember just how broken his brother really was inside. Twice before he had made the mistake of using the curse word ‘hell' in his brother's hearing and each time it left the older man a mess. Sam wanted to kick himself for committing the same error yet again.
"I'm so sorry, Dean. Everything's going to be alright. I'm here, you're safe and no one is going to hurt you."
The single, carelessly used word had been an instant, irresistible reminder of the real place. That place of blinding pain and hopelessness. Dean bowed his head, ashamed of the weakness that he could not seem to shake. He was suppose to be the older brother - the strong one.
"It's alright, Dean." Sam spoke softly.
Dean took a deep, ragged breath and blew it out slowly to calm his nerves. After another few moments he felt collected enough to stand. He pushed his brother away in a gentle shove.
"I'm fine now, dude." He reassured the younger man with a wan smile. "Once we get back home....figure out what's really going on - I'll be a lot better then, but for now I'm fine."
Sam watched him closely through long bangs. He wished that he could just believe the reassurances, wished that he did not know the truth. His brother would take a long, long time to be fine.
"It would have to be a weekend!" Dean complained, slapping his hand hard against the Impala's black steering wheel. He huffed angrily. "Now we'll have to wait until Monday - assuming the house will be empty by then."
"It's Saturday, not the end of the world. Just relax." Sam tried to calm his brother. "You're going to get upset and that's the last thing that you need."
"Newsflash - I'm already upset!" Dean ground out with a deep frown.
"Yeah, well, get un-upset." Sam sighed heavily. "We both know that it won't do anyone any good for you to have another anxiety attack."
"I'm surprised that you're taking this as well as you are. After all, little brother, with your powers we could be in there and out before they even knew what hit them."
Sam flinched. "What hit them? Nice, Dean. Now I see what a sterling opinion you have of me and my...gifts."
"I didn't mean it like that." Dean responded defensively. "I only meant that if you're even half as wired up as I am to see mom again and find out what happened then - wait." He stopped, Sam was avoiding his gaze. "You don't think that she's really in heaven, do you? You think I imagined the entire rescue."
Sam shook his head, but his gaze remained averted. "It's not like that."
"Really? ‘Cause that's sure how it's looking from here. Mind explaining?"
Sam opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. He searched for the right words that would explain how confused he felt inside. On the one hand he knew that his brother had not just mysteriously appeared in that alley without some ones - or some things - help, but on the other hand their mothers soul had been destroyed years before.
"Why don't we go back to the motel? We can relax, watch some TV or something. Beats waiting around here on the off chance they might go out."
"You're changing the subject." Dean said. He took one last look at the house and gave in. "Alright. We'll come back tomorrow - maybe we'll get lucky and they'll go to the beach."
Sam chuckled at his brothers sarcastic words. "Yeah, the beach - in Kansas." He responded with equal sarcasm.
*************************************************************************************
"Anything good?" Dean asked as he exited the bathroom of their motel room after a long, cool shower.
Sam looked up from the local newspaper he had been idly perusing. "If there was even a hint of a Hunt would you really want me to tell you?"
"Honestly?" Dean asked. "Probably not."
"Good then." Sam went back to reading his paper.
"Why? Is there something?" Dean let his curiosity get the better of him. When his brother merely shrugged, he sauntered up behind the dark haired man to read over his shoulder. "The dead girl, towards the bottom?" He asked after a few moments of scanning the paper.
Sam sighed heavily and folded the paper over so that the referred to obituary was hidden from sight. "Yes. Now let it go. The last thing we need is a Hunt on our hands - neither one of us is exactly in top shape."
Dean dipped his chin. "True, but maybe this is what I need. You know, get back into the thick of things."
Sam laughed bitterly. "I really don't think so, Dean."
"Come on! We've got a whole weekend and I'm going stir-crazy already." Dean paced the room as if to prove his point. "A Hunt would take my mind off of things."
Sam frowned. "Or it could get you killed...again. No, Dean. End of discussion."
Dean clenched his jaw.
"Besides." Sam added, jerking his thumb towards the mess of clothes on and around Dean's bed. "If you're that desperate for something to do I saw a laundry mat a couple of blocks away."
Dean spread his hands. "No way, man."
Sam lifted an eyebrow. "You're the one complaining about the dirty clothes and you're the one with nothing better to do."
"What do you plan on being busy doing while I'm waiting in a room full of screaming kids and gossiping old ladies?"
"Sleep." Sam's eyes suddenly grew shadowed, haunted and forlorn. "I just want to sleep."
"Okay, Sammy. I'll get out of your hair for a couple of hours." Dean submitted after a moment. "Sorry, for yelling."
Sam shrugged, kicking off his shoes as he made his way over to his bed. Dean quickly gathered up all of the clothes he could fit into his duffle bag. He grabbed the extra room key and drove the Impala to the laundry mat. It took him a few minutes to get everything going, but once it was started he sat down in an uncomfortable, blue plastic chair to wait.
His gaze traveled from object to object in the large, open room looking for something to focus his attention on. It settled finally on a newspaper - the same paper his brother had been reading before - and his earlier curiosity fighting to the forefront, he picked it up and started to read. The girl's story was a horrible one and by the end of the rather short, irritatingly vague article, Dean was even more prepared to Hunt down and kill whatever had left the girl so damaged.
TEENAGE GIRL MAULED BY WILDCAT
Mindy Danielson, 17, was found by a park ranger not far from the South park entrance Tuesday afternoon. She was rushed to the local hospital, no release has been given thus far on her medical condition. A number of recent wildcat attacks in the area have lead the authorities to believe that she was surprised while on a hiking trip. Her family could not be reached for additional details.
Although the doctors will not give up any information on Mindy's current status, they did confirm that her injuries supported the alleged wildcat attack. State troopers, local authorities, volunteers and the park service are working together to canvas the area in search of the ferocious animal.
Dean stopped reading.
If all those people were going to go after whatever attacked the girl there was a good chance someone else would get hurt or killed. Sam would need to be convinced that their help was needed in this case - after all, if they did not stop whatever was harming these locals no one else would. No once else could. With a heavy sigh Dean sat back and tried to think of a convincing argument. He had over an hour to come up with something and as a Winchester, BS was par for the course. Unfortunately, his brother was fluent in the language. Dean crossed his arms over his chest.
**************************************************************************************
"They're gone."
Those were Sam's first words when Dean returned with the clean laundry.
"How do you know?"
"I just went over there." Sam shrugged at the look his brother shot him. "What? I felt like walking, okay."
A knowing glint twinkled in Dean's eye. "Room too small?"
"Yeah, a little." Sam ducked his head. "I never said it wasn't, just for the record."
"Uh, huh." Dean smirked.
"Shut up."
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
The tension that had been building between them for the past few days melted in the face of familiar snark. Dean flashed Sam a bright smile.
"Lets get to it then, little brother."
He flung the bag of clothes off his shoulder and onto the floor. The Hunt could wait, finding answers was more important.
*****************************************************************************************
This time the ritual went off without a hitch. Dean felt his blood pump faster, the sound rushing in his ears, as they incanted the last few words of Latin. There was a rush of paranormal wind, brushing their hair back with soft fingers, and then silence. Stillness.
Nothing happened.
Sam shifted, his eyes going from the alter to Dean and then back again.
Dean stared at the alter, unblinking.
Still nothing happened.
The silence became oppressive as they waited for their mother to appear.
She did not.
"Well, this was a crap idea." Sam muttered.
"Shhh!" Dean hissed.
Nothing happened - the silence remained.
"I told you so." Sam sighed sadly. He knew how much this meant to his brother, but he also knew that their mothers soul was gone - destroyed in an effort to rescue them from a malevolent poltergeist.
Dean's complete focus was on the alter and his gaze did not waver even for a moment. He had complete faith that their mother would show up. Just another moment, just one more second. He told himself over and over in his mind. Still nothing happened.
The silence grew.
"Admit it." Sam said softly, after a few more minutes went by. "She's not coming. She can't - wherever she is now. . .she just can't."
"I know what I saw. I know it was her. I know that she'll come." Dean bit off the words in abrupt sentences. "I know."
Sam sat back on the floor and watched his brother's intense stare. He knew there would be no convincing the older man and he was ready to wait it out. Either way, their mothers soul had not been summoned, that much was abundantly clear.
"Come on! Fuck!" Dean shouted, startling Sam. "Come on!"
Dean felt betrayal cut through him like a razor sharp knife. He knew that his mother was still around, knew that she could see him - after all, angels were suppose to be able to do anything, right? He felt his throat tighten at the thought that she was avoiding him. Why had the ritual not worked? Mary Winchester had become a memory surrounded by perfection, in his mind and now that perfect glow of memory was fading. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Dean. Maybe..."
"Maybe what?" Dean snapped angrily. "Maybe I imagined the whole thing? I don't think so, Sam."
The brothers exchanged stubborn glares, neither willing to back down this time. There was no way that Sam could let Dean keep kidding himself and Dean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their mother was an angel.
A soft murmur of voices drifted into the room. They looked around for the source.
"Dean."
Dean whirled around at the sound of his mother's voice. She stood there, in the middle of a strangers kitchen, white light emanating from within her body. Wings of soft, silky feathers shimmered in the daylight streaming through the window. She smiled.
"Dean. You're safe now."
Dean stood slowly to his feet, Sam following his lead, and took a single step towards his mother.
"You are an angel. I knew it." He said softly.
"Mom?" Sam whispered.
Mary's gaze turned to the younger man.
"Sam." The corner of her lips turned up slightly. "Everything will be alright."
"But - how is this possible?" Sam's eyes began to tear. "How?"
A true smile shone from her face, lighting the room. "Oh, honey. I know all of the things that you did."
Sam felt his heart skip a beat, horrified at the thought that his mother had somehow known all of the terrible atrocities he had committed. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to explain, he felt the words bubbling up inside him, but before he could say anything she shook her head.
"Don't, Sam. It's alright, darling."
Her wings fluttered, floating her forward, until she could easily touch either of the men.
"Mom. How?" Dean echoed Sam's earlier question.
She brushed his chin lightly with the edge of her wing. "There are some things you can't know yet, son."
"What does that suppose to even mean? We called you here because we want some answers." Dean said.
"All I am allowed to tell you is this." She put a her left hand on Sam's shoulder and her right on Dean's. "All the darkness and pain will fade. You will both make it through this and be stronger for it."
"It doesn't feel like that's possible." Dean said, his throat tightening. "Some days I feel like I can't keep going." A desperation broke his voice. "Mom, I can't forget."
"Shhh." She moved the hand over his mouth. "I know you have questions and I know it's hard, but, Dean, I know - I really know - that things will get better for both of you."
"But you can't explain any of it?"
"I'm sorry."
"Well, that's just great." Dean groused, trying for bravado. "Now what?"
"You Hunt." She said matter-of-factly.
Sam drew in a sharp breath. "Mom, after all the things that I did...What if Hunting puts me in a situation where I - where I do something unforgivable? It got easier to use my powers for...questionable - I mean." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to ever do those things again."
"You won't. Everything that you've learned about your powers will help you and your brother. When you are Hunting, I'll be there with you, watching over you. I won't let you hurt anyone."
Sam lost his fight with the tears and they cascaded down his cheeks. "Where were you?" He implored her through a gut wrenching sob. "All those months - when I was alone - where were you at?"
Mary's chin trembled with emotion. "Oh, honey." Her wings came forward and she enfolded him in a feathery hug. "I'm so sorry." Pulling back a little she included Dean in the hug. "I am so sorry, sons. I came as soon as I could. I did as much as I could."
Sam's shoulders shook under her firm embrace. He could feel the strength in her, it was a part of her that he could sense with his super-human abilities. The dark haired man let himself get lost in the knowledge that she was there finally to help him. It had taken over twenty years, but his mother was there for him.
"Darlings, I found a way to help you. It just took a while, that‘s all."
Dean breathed in her smell, a light flowery scent, and felt the warmth of her living body. It was so different from the last time he had seen her in this same room. The fire and confusion that had infused those memories were overwritten now with this new Mary Winchester. He smiled, all of the questions and fears melting away in the presence of his mother. He relaxed into her embrace.
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A passerby outside the house noticed a reflective light inside, sending out rays of blinding light. The old man shrugged in his over-large coat and shook his head. Strange things were always happening with that house and it‘s owners. Deciding it was none of his business, the man continued on his way home after a hard days work.
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"Mom."
Dean stepped back from the hug. He felt like all of his problems had been washed away. He felt new and whole for the first time in so very long, it was like a perfect dream. Dean smiled in genuine joy. For the first time since his fifth birthday he felt complete peace fill him.
"So, Hunting, is it?" He asked, his voice steady and strong.
Sam held on to his mother for several moments longer before finally letting her go. "Yeah." He answered his brother with a matching smile. "Hunting."
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Mary Winchester watched her children sleep. It had been a long day for them both, but they had come out of it healed. She knew there would be new trials, but she also knew that together they could make it through - and there was no force in heaven, hell or earth that could tear her away from their side.
She had a long ways to go to get them in top shape and with the number of demons still in need of vanquishing it was imperative that her sons get back into the battle. Thousands would be saved in the long run, but all that mattered to her was the two men sleeping in front of her, on those dingy motel beds. Mary wings folded behind her back, she knelt next to their beds in turn and gave them both a goodnight kiss.
Their story was just beginning.
THE END
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