Weapons of Fate (Part Two)
Weapons of Fate
Walking into the apartment, Sam’s world was still in full tilt. He just wanted to sleep away his confusion but he knew he needed to get to work. Everything else in his life was messed up, but as much as Sam hated his job it was the only constant in his life.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
Jessica’s shrill voice filled his ears and he cringed; not from the words but the screeching tone which sent a shudder up his spine.
“I have to get ready for work,” Sam answered as he walked through the small cluttered living area to the bedroom. If he’d have given it a moment’s thought he’d have expected Jessica to have his clothes already packed but she didn’t. Instead, she was standing in the doorway behind him.
“Sam,” her voice dropped to a more soothing tone. “Look, I get that something is bothering you but you don’t need to pretend with me. I know you didn’t hook up with that guy last night. What, did you spend the night in the car?” she asked. “I’m not even gonna get mad that you spent money to get the guy to pretend to pick you up.”
Her arms were wrapped around his waist from behind, her head rested against the back of his neck and he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbling out of his throat.
“Sam?”
She sounded confused but underneath was that tone that he knew meant she was pissed and trying to cover it. It should’ve hurt, but when the realization hit it was more of a relief than anything else. She hadn’t loved him in a long time, if she ever had. She was just holding onto him until a better meal ticket came along.
He had been letting himself ignore it because shit, he was a mess and Jessica was beautiful and he didn’t deserve anyone better than her. He would never get anyone that good again.
At least until Dean came along.
Dean wanted him and, fucked up as it was, it made Sam strong enough to turn on Jessica, grab her arms and hold them at her sides.
“I’m not pretending anything.” Sam whispered. Her eyes narrowed in anger and he suddenly wanted to hurt her, wanted to let her know how he felt every time he came home and could still smell Matt’s cologne in the air. “Jesus, Jess, the way he touched me? You have no idea what he can do with his hands,” he continued as he pulled his shirt up over his head. When his hands dropped to undo the button on his pants he could see Jessica’s eyes focus on the dark mark Dean had left the night before. “He fucked me so good, Jess, I almost feel bad that you can’t feel it.”
He dropped his pants and ignored the sob in her voice. Crocodile tears, he told himself. He pulled on the first pair of khakis he came across and grabbed a black shirt, not realizing until it was over his head that it was just a tee-shirt. The clothes were really too casual for work but it wasn’t strictly against the dress code and he was too tired to care.
When he turned around Jessica was still standing there, mascara running in thick streams down her cheeks. Her eyes were angry though and he smiled for her. “Have fun with Matt.”
He grabbed a clean pair of socks and his shoes as he slid his wallet in his back pocket. He snagged his keys from the table by the door before walking out of the apartment, stopping in the hallway to throw his socks and shoes on.
He felt disconnected for a moment, numb from the night and the confrontation with Jess, and just from his entire fucking life.
The drive to work was short and once there he didn’t have to bother with small talk because no one really cared about a loser like him anyway. Matt was in his cubicle though, his so-called best friend.
“Hey Sam, what happened to you last night?” Matt asked, leaning over him as he perched against the cubicle wall. “Jess was really worried about you.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Sam managed to mutter. He didn’t know what came through his voice but Matt straightened up. “Just needed to get out last night.”
“You alright, Sam?” Sam smiled and Matt backed away, “Um, just gonna get some coffee.”
Sam took a deep breath. He couldn’t focus on work, couldn’t even muster up the strength to care about it. Instead he closed his eyes and thought about Dean. Without meaning to, he found his fingers on the keyboard, pulling up Google and typing his name in. The only thing he found was the information about the night the Winchester house burnt down. A suspicious fire in the nursery that left Mary Winchester somehow trapped in the flames with her infant son. What he didn’t remember about the article was the survivors and there in the black and white of his computer screen were the two remaining members of the family, John and Dean Winchester. The picture of the family was blurry but he could see the same familiar eyes as the man who had been watching him the night before. He knew John Winchester was coming for him and it just made Dean’s story seem all the more likely. If he looked hard enough at the image of the toddler in the photo he could almost see Dean’s smile reflected in his younger self.
He closed his eyes and tried to bury the thought. He didn’t belong to them. He didn’t belong with anyone. Years of foster care and attempted placements taught him that he wasn’t the kind of person people wanted to keep around long. His temper was too strong, his emotions too close to the top for anyone to be able to care for him.
Except, the night before, he had been calmed. That morning he’d been calmed, not just from his regular storm of emotions but from a true panic attack, all with the soft press of Dean’s lips.
“Jesus Christ, Winchester! What do I pay you for? Does this look like personal computer time?” Jason bellowed as he came up behind Sam. Sam tried to swallow down his guilt, tried to remind himself that he needed the job and no one else would want to hire him, but it wouldn’t go down as easy as it normally did. As hard as he tried to tell himself nothing had changed, everything had. He had.
He stood up and looked down at his supervisor - who was almost a foot shorter than him - and smirked. “What if it is?” Sam asked. “What if I hate this fucking job? What if I think these stupid calls are pointless? The data we’re supposed to be collecting is meaningless? What if I think you’re just a punk who gets off on telling other people what to do?”
Jason was backing up quickly and Sam continued to move forward with him. “That’s enough Winchester.”
Sam smiled then as he realized he was right. “Damn straight it is.” He pulled back his fist and connected with Jason’s jaw, sending him reeling back against Matt’s desk.
“Woh, man, what are you doing?” Matt asked as he pushed away from his desk towards Sam.
Sam didn’t pause as he turned towards his best friend. “This.” He swung his fist again, landing the blow straight on Matt’s nose. His knuckles hurt all to hell but it was worth it. He felt free for the first time in years. He’d promised himself years before that he wouldn’t allow people to make him feel small and worthless and yet he had, after all that time keeping his spirits up as he moved from one home to another, he’d let Jessica and Matt and Jason and everyone else in his life treat him like he wasn’t worth knowing.
He jerked around then and grabbed the phone from his desk, yanking it from the cubicle. He held it high over his head and threw it to the ground, watching with a satisfied grin as it smashed to bits.
“Winchester!” Jason was yelling, but Sam smiled as he flipped him off on his way out of the office.
He had no idea what he was going to do or where he was going to go, but he had to take huge gulping breaths as he reached the open air. His feelings of freedom weren’t diminished and he felt like someone else now, someone who had the whole damn world to explore.
A car horn drew his attention and he watched as a silver BMW pulled up in front of him on the street. He stared at it for a minute before the window rolled down. “Knew you had it in you, Sammy.”
He thought his knees might give out on him as Dean’s smile was revealed from inside the car. “You getting in or what?” He asked, though there was no uncertainty in his voice.
Sam didn’t answer, just ran to the other side of the car and hopped in. His legs were bouncing and he couldn’t seem to control his energy. He was free, but he wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t be alone ever again, he knew that. When he looked at Dean, he could see the way his lover’s - his brother’s - smile grew larger.
“So what now?” Sam asked. “You said, you said I was special. What now?”
Dean laughed as he reached over and squeezed Sam’s knee where it was jumping. “Now, we get you settled and we do what the Winchester boys were always meant to be doing.”
“And what is that?”
“Saving People. Hunting things.”
**
The training came easy to Sam. He’d spent a life on the streets. Moving from one foster home to another had given him the ability to fit in well enough wherever he was, but his temper and smart mouth had also taught him how to fight. He was smart enough not to get caught, but he knew how to fight and how to use his body against an opponent.
Dean wasn’t like another opponent though and he handed Sam’s ass back to him more than once. It took two months before Dean felt Sam was strong enough to let him out of his sight for more than a few moments, but Sam felt stronger than ever. He didn’t know that he’d ever kick his brother’s ass, but he was all for trying. They trained hard, worked hard, but as soon as Sam went into training mode Dean refused to press Sam about anything of a sexual nature. Not only that, but when Sam had started seeking it out a few weeks after they’d started, Dean had gently let him down, explaining that Sam needed to focus on other things just then.
It left Sam frustrated and needy. When he walked out the door tonight, the first time Dean hadn’t immediately followed after him, Sam decided it was time to hit up a bar. If Dean wasn’t going to take care of him he’d find someone who damn well would. Alright, so no he wouldn’t but it wouldn’t hurt to flirt and make himself feel wanted.
He was ten minutes away from Dean’s place when he felt the sensation between his shoulder blades, the weight of someone’s eyes on his back. He took a deep breath and turned down a small side street, his back hitting the side of the building as soon as he passed so he could try to jump his stalker.
As soon as the guy was starting past Sam jumped out, but his fist was dodged with the same efficient movements that Sam knew so well. He found himself with his back against the wall again, John Winchester’s arm at his throat.
“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” The man’s voice was like whiskey, rough and deep and his arm pulled up just enough to let Sam talk.
“What do you want with me?”
“I want you to be safe. I know you don’t think so, but Sam you have to believe me. I know your life wasn’t easy but it was better if the Fraternity thought you were dead. I couldn’t risk helping you, son.”
Sam tried to break free at the last word, anger eating away at him but John’s hold held. “You don’t get to call me son.”
John’s eyes searched his and he nodded. “Alright. Fair enough. I just wanted to warn you. I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but you need to stay clear of Dean.”
“Sure,” Sam said with a feral smile. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Sam, I know… I know what happened that first night. I know what he did to you, what you did together, but he’s not telling you everything.”
“What do you think he’s hiding then?” Sam asked. He had no idea what to say to John, no idea what the man was even talking to him for. Everything he knew from Dean said that John wanted him dead.
“He’s your brother, Sam.”
“I know.”
That shocked John enough that he took a few steps back, mouth gaping at Sam’s admission. “You - he told you?”
“The next morning he told me. So whatever you think I don’t know about Dean, you’re wrong.”
“He’s been brainwashed, Sam. The Fraternity have him so screwed around he doesn’t know right from wrong anymore. He believes, like a goddamn apostle, and he’s going to take you down with him.”
Sam smirked. “I think I’ll take my chances.”
“He’s obsessed with you,” John’s voice grated out. “He was as soon as I told him you died, but he never got over it. They whispered in his ear, always talking about what you’d be like, how good a brother Dean would have been, how strong you would have been when you joined the order to be with him.”
Sam repressed the shudder that wanted to run through him because though Dean didn’t say most of it, Sam knew it already. John didn’t know Sam though, didn’t understand him the way Dean did.
“So?” Sam smiled at the look of horror on John’s face. “You think I didn’t dream about having a big brother to take care of me my whole life? Think I didn’t want someone to come in and save me from all that? Maybe you should have been paying more attention.”
“Get down!” Sam was suddenly pushed down as a bullet exploded over John’s shoulder against the wall.
There was no one in sight but John put himself between Sam and the opening of the street as he pulled out two guns from under his jacket. Sam wanted to do something but John was an assassin and he had no idea who was coming around the corner. He couldn’t think clear enough to run because his mind was still tripping over the fact that John’s body was still between him and the shooter and there was no way he should have been putting his life on the line for Sam.
“Have a good reunion, John?”
It was Dean’s voice and John shoved Sam back down hard when he tried to stand.
“Just having a little talk with my son,” John answered as Dean rounded the corner.
“Let him go, John, and I’ll let you walk out of this alley alive,” Dean said, his voice cold and quiet.
“So you can take him in to the order, Dean? He deserves better than that. He was the best part of us all; he can be more than just a trained killer.”
Dean smirked. “Like you care about him. You left him alone all those years, John, left me alone, always thinking he was gone. You got no right to talk like you know him.”
“What about the things you’ve been doing to him, huh, Dean? You think you’ve got a right to be doing those with your little brother?”
“I’m taking care of him,” Dean yelled. “Like no one else ever has.”
John leaned up just a bit and it gave Sam the space he needed. He pushed at John, forcing the other man to fall forward. Sam ran towards Dean and Dean fired two bullets back towards John, forcing him to stay low and pull back away from his son.
“Sammy,” Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the street, running the two blocks to his car. When they were in, Dean sped away, taking them out of the city instead of towards Dean’s apartment.
“Are you alright, Sammy?”
“Pull over, Dean.”
“What?”
“Pull over.”
“I can’t, it’s not safe.” Sam glared at him and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Alright, just let me get far enough away.”
Sam considered asking what Dean considered safe, but decided not to push it. Instead they drove on in silence. Dean pulled the car over twenty minutes later; a small park in the middle of suburbia. It was dark out by the time Dean pulled in and they had the park to themselves. Sam got out as soon as Dean stopped the car. The drive had given him time to think about what was happening and to realize he needed to get Dean where he couldn’t leave. The park was perfect. Dean could walk away from his apartment all too easy, but out like this, with Sam reliant on him to get anywhere, Dean wouldn’t walk away. Sam was counting on that need to keep Dean with him long enough to hear what Sam needed to say.
He walked over to the swings and sat on one, moving just so far as his long legs could stay on solid ground. It wasn’t intentional - hell, Dean was the one that picked a park - but if it was a subtle reminder that Sam was his little brother, Sam was okay with that. Dean took a few more minutes to join him, but Sam saw him in the trunk and he knew Dean had picked out his special gun. Sam would say favorite but Dean always looked at that particular gun, the one with the intricate design fashioned into both sides of the handle, with a mixture of fear and awe. Dean only used it when there was a target to kill or a situation he considered too dangerous. That he pulled it out then wasn’t a surprise. Dean was feeling anxious about John’s visit and he needed all the security he could get.
“Sam, what did he say to you?”
Dean’s voice was quiet, his body still as he leaned back against the metal structure of the swings. There was no anger in his voice, but Sam could detect a small amount of fear there. He knew his brother, and he knew there wasn’t another person in the world that would have been able to detect it. Dean kept himself closed off from everyone, including their father, but he’d let Sam in completely. It made Sam’s chest fill with pride to be granted that, and sometimes it made his shoulders heavy with the burden.
“He said you were brainwashed.” There was no need to lie. Sam already knew some of the truth. “He said that the Fraternity was building you up until you were obsessed with me.”
Dean smirked at that, but there was no denial on his brother’s lips. “What did you say to that?”
“So?” Sam shrugged, but there was that fire in Dean’s eyes, the acknowledgment of what had been between them, what would be between them again if Sam could just get his brother to admit to the need again. “He told me we were brothers. He seemed surprised when I told him that I already knew. Guess he was shocked that I’d stayed around after I found out you knowingly fucked your brother.”
“So he knew about that.”
Sam saw it then, the moment of doubt creeping into Dean’s eyes. Dean couldn’t care less what the rest of the Fraternity thought of him and his relationship with Sam, but he could see that John’s opinion still mattered. It explained why Dean was so worried about John. No matter how much he believed in the Fraternity and their higher goals, he was still being asked to kill his father, the man who had raised him.
“Dean, something’s wrong with all this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He wasn’t trying to kill me. When that first shot rang out, he threw me on the ground. He was protecting me with his body. That’s not what you do to someone you want to kill.”
“Sam, he was just-”
“What? What was he just doing that meant him protecting me? He was going to take a bullet for me, Dean. You were coming to save me from him, I know that, but John was trying to protect me from you. Tell me how that means he’s trying to kill me.”
Dean looked at him for a few minutes, hands fisted at his sides until he finally looked down at his feet. “I don’t know.”
Sam nodded as he got up from the swing. Dean wasn’t looking at him but with his instincts he had to know Sam was coming right for him. Sam stopped, his legs coming up between Dean’s where he leaned. “Dean,” he reached a hand up, cupping his brother’s face and pulling it up to look at him. There was so much doubt in his eyes and Sam leaned in, letting his lips brush against his brother’s forehead like Dean had done to him so often in the first days of training. “I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but I think it’s time. You know John wasn’t lying. They’ve messed with your head, Dean, and you aren’t even trying to deny it. Take me in. Let me see them. Trust me to find the truth for you.”
“You’re the only thing I know, Sammy. I don’t know if I can put you in that danger.”
“Dean, don’t you think the fact that you’re worried about it means something? You’re saying you don’t trust the people that sent you to protect me.”
“Sammy, we can just walk away, alright? You and me?”
“Are these really the sort of people you just walk away from?”
Dean’s shoulders seemed to slump a little and Sam took his chance. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Dean’s. He didn’t respond at first, but Sam licked across Dean’s bottom lip and then Dean’s hands were gripping the back of Sam’s shirt, his lips parting as his own tongue flicked out to taste Sam.
“Sammy,” Dean moaned against Sam’s lips and his desperation tasted better than anything Sam had ever dreamt of.
“You were right, Dean. I’m yours. Always have been. You don’t need to hide from me, from this. I need you, need you to be everything, need you to keep me safe, love me, and protect me. I’m gonna be everything for you too, remember? I learned to fight for you, big brother. Gonna take care of you too.”
Dean’s hands pulled Sam closer, their hips lining up and Sam moaned at the contact as Dean’s denim clad cock rubbed against his. Dean began sliding down the metal pole and Sam followed him until they were in the sand, Dean dropping his gun to one side as Sam opened the front of his jeans. Dean’s hands were on Sam’s waist then, fingers under Sam’s shirt and tracing lower until he was pulling Sam’s button free from its hole. Sam pressed Dean’s pants down far enough to pull him out and then Dean returned the favor and Dean pulled Sam down on top of him into a desperate kiss. It wouldn’t take long, not with the way Dean was writhing under him, his moans swallowed so sweetly with Sam’s kiss.
“Gonna take care of you,” Dean breathed against his lips and Sam nodded, staring down at Dean. Without warning, Dean flipped them over, pressing Sam underneath him, the swing knocking lightly at Dean’s shoulders as he reached between them, taking them both in hand. His fingers were strong and callused, hands that knew Sam better than any lover ever had. Sam looked up to see his brother’s green eyes over him, his fantasy played out in real life as his brother-turned-lover held him tight and broke them both to pieces with his hands. Dean must have seen something in his eyes because then he was leaning up. When his lips brushed against Sam’s forehead he whispered “come for me little brother,” and Sam followed his order without hesitation. Dean followed a second later, his breath a harsh staccato as he painted Sam in warm stripes.
They lay like that for a few minutes, Dean’s lips against Sam’s forehead and Sam’s fingers gripping the back of Dean’s shirt tight. “Jesus, Sammy,” Dean finally whispered. “Fucking my brother wasn’t perverted enough for you? You gotta make me do it in a kid’s playground?”
Sam let out a small chuckle, but Dean moved off him them, pulling his shirt off to let Sam clean himself up with. He did, then realized that Dean was watching him with a serious expression.
“Okay, Sam. We’ll do this. But if I think the others are getting too nosy about you, we’re gone. Got it?”
“You trust me to find the truth, Dean and I’ll trust you to pull us out before we get in trouble.”
Dean searched his eyes for a moment, then smiled. “Seal it with a kiss?”
Sam crawled up into his brother’s lap, straddling his hips as Dean tilted his head back to look at Sam. “Always,” he said before brushing their lips together lightly. Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around Sam for a few minutes before Dean finally let him go.
“Come on. The sooner we get to the Fraternity the better.”
They were in the car five minutes later and Sam had no idea where they were heading. The only thing he knew was that he trusted Dean to get them there.
**
“Samuel?”
Sam stood at Dean’s back, his posture tall and strong the way Dean had told him to be. He was done with the days of hunching over and hiding who he was. With Dean’s care and training, Sam had grown into the person he’d always hoped he’d someday be. Dean’s voice was respectful as they walked through the textile mill. Sam knew what to expect, but somehow it didn’t prepare him for the figure that turned around at Dean’s words.
Samuel Campbell was the head of the order, the man who read the weaves and told the Fraternity where to kill. His assassins were unknown in the world because there was no political party attached to them. The loom, Dean had told him, weaved humanities fate. Samuel read the tapestry and unraveled the message. They were the simple tailors who created a future from the loom’s design. Sam could see something else in Samuel’s eyes though, in the set of his shoulders, and the way he carried himself. Samuel was a man who was used to power.
“Dean, we were beginning to get worried about you.”
Dean’s body relaxed then and Sam knew there was nothing fake in his brother’s relief. “I needed to make sure we were safe before bringing Sam back. Samuel Campbell, this is my brother, Sammy.”
“Sammy,” Samuel said, offering his hand out to Sam.
“It’s Sam,” he said without thinking. Something in Samuel’s eyes made him want to cringe so he moved around Dean and took the offered hand, smiling against his misgivings. “Dean’s told me a lot about you. Thank you. I understand you saved my life.”
“That would be Dean’s job,” Samuel said as he pulled back, eyes warmer now. “When he called to check in he had good things to say about you as well. Perhaps you’d like to see a little of what we do?”
Sam nodded and Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam with a smile.
“Dean, I think the gunsmith needed some of your particular attention. Why don’t you head on down and I’ll send Sam your way when we’re through.”
Dean’s shoulders tensed at that, but Sam dropped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed slightly. “That sounds like a good idea.”
He could see that Dean didn’t like being separated from him, but Sam knew it was his best chance at getting to Samuel and seeing what he really was. The Fraternity might not know much about Sam, but they knew Dean and Sam didn’t want to put his brother in a compromising position.
Dean nodded, then walked out of the room, stopping to give Sam one last look that he knew meant be careful, and take care of yourself. He nodded, and then Sam turned his attention back to Samuel.
“Dean seems to have taken to you pretty fast.”
Sam smiled at the thought. “It’s mutual, if you’re worried.”
Samuel shook his head as he began walking, Sam at his side. “I wasn’t. When Dean found out about you we did what we could to find out who you really were. There’s not a lot to go on, mind you. Foster records don’t say much about the person but if you know how to read between the lines, you can learn enough. I knew that you were looking for someone, just like Dean was. I knew that when he found you, when he brought you to us, that you’d do everything you could to make him proud.”
“I’d do anything for Dean,” Sam promised honestly. “Just, tell me what I can do. Tell me how I can make him safe from John.”
“Did he tell you all of it?”
“That John is my father? That he wants to kill me?” Sam asked. “Yeah, he told me about that. He also told me that what they do, what you all do, is in my blood. He’s been training me to join you.”
It was all true, though now Sam’s thoughts of joining were more along the lines of protecting his brother. Nothing was adding up right and Sam didn’t like it. Having met Samuel, he knew his hunch was right. There was no way this man was letting Dean go without a fight.
They walked in silence for a few minutes as Samuel led him up a small flight of stairs and into a small room. There was nothing in the room but a giant loom and a stretch of plain fabric as it continued to weave. Samuel led Sam to it and they stared down at the fabric.
“It’s the most magnificent weave in the world, and no one outside of the order will ever know of it,” Samuel said softly. “Dictators have been overthrown, serial killers have been stopped, and the reign of chaos has slowly receded. You, Sam Winchester, are about to become a part of something majestic.”
**
Sam stared down at his hands, trying to find his voice. Dean was standing over him, waiting, but Sam didn’t know how to begin. The knowledge he held, the secrets he’d been able to find, he didn’t know how to do what he was being asked to do. He’d asked Dean to trust him though, to let him find the truth and he had. Dean deserved to know, he had to know.
“Samuel,” Sam said the name and he couldn’t help the bitterness that laced it. Dean crouched down, his hands resting on Sam’s thighs as he leaned in, forcing Sam to look at him. Sam took a deep breath and nodded as he began again. “Did you know Samuel’s daughter?”
“No, she died before I became a part of the Fraternity.”
“She was the only one to ever walk away. She fell in love and she started a family.”
“I didn’t know-“
“Her name was Mary.” Dean blinked as his brow furrowed but Sam continued. “Mary Campbell. When she married she became Mary Winchester.”
“What?”
“Samuel is our grandfather. It looks like,” he let out a deep breath and grabbed his brother’s shoulders, keeping him close, “Dean, he’s been fabricating kills. Including the hit on John Winchester.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I hacked into his database. He keeps records of everything, Dean. He didn’t do it before, but he thought if he used the two of us that we could get close enough to John to kill him.”
“Why?”
“He hates John and he’s just been looking for a reason to kill him. He’s convinced that Mary’s murder was a hit on John that went wrong. Apparently Mary threw herself in front of John, taking a bullet for him. The fire was just a cover. That was why John separated us. Samuel’s personal notes say that John was trying to find a way to leave the order and take us with him. He never found a safe way to do it. Recently though, John’s found out that Samuel is ordering hits on his own. When John went AWOL, Samuel decided it was time to try to send us against him.”
“So you’re saying that we’ve just been killing innocent people.”
Sam saw the devastation in his brother’s eyes and he pulled him closer. “Dean, you were doing what you thought you had to. This is Samuel’s fault. He did this to the order.” He paused, not sure if Dean was ready for the rest of it but he needed to hear it. “I think you were the only one who didn’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something else in Samuel’s personal files; a kill slip on every assassin in the Fraternity, except you and John. I think the others found out but never bothered to question it so the loom threw their names out as kills. It knew they needed to be stopped. You and John never willingly killed an innocent so there was no honest kill slip on either of you.”
“So, John, he wasn’t … he didn’t …”
“No, he didn’t,” a voice called from behind them.
Dean was up and had his guns pulled so fast Sam couldn’t stop him. John Winchester stood in the middle of Dean’s apartment - the second one Sam had been to though Dean confessed to having seven across the globe - with his hands in the air.
“I’m gonna reach behind me, Dean, and I’m gonna pull out my two guns and set them on the counter. Got it?”
Dean gave him a small nod and John did as he said, movements nice and slow so as not to startle his oldest son.
“Now, you think you can take the guns off me?” John asked.
Dean stared at him a minute, tucking one gun into his belt but keeping his special gun in hand. “You’ve got a real short leash here, John, coming in uninvited.”
“Not uninvited,” Sam said as he got up, moving until his chest was pressed to Dean’s back. “I asked him to come here.”
“Sam-” There was anger in Dean’s voice and Sam ignored it.
“You trusted me with the truth, Dean. The truth is that John wasn’t ever trying to hurt us, and Samuel used that.”
“Dean,” John’s voice was sad and Sam could see the pain in his eyes. “I might have been a crappy father, but I would never hurt you. I couldn’t stop them from changing you, but I always hoped you’d remember that much at least.”
“Samuel said…” Dean shook his head, “You … you let me think Sam was dead.”
“I did. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to make them think you were dead too. Samuel came to the apartment and he saw you huddled in the ambulance when they were getting ready to take us to the hospital. He didn’t see Sam. You had him bundled up in the seat beside you, holding onto him. You had your back to Samuel so he didn’t know. That night I paid the right people and Sam Winchester died. I didn’t know anything else until years later, when I thought it was safe enough to look for him. I still couldn’t go to him though so I kept an eye on where he was moved and never let either of you know. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I had to protect you both the best I could.”
“What about now?” Sam asked. “We’re never going to be the sons you want,” he curled his hand over Dean’s hip and he saw John’s eyes flicker to it. There was no mistaking what he was saying, and John paled slightly. “What do you think happens now?”
John looked at Sam and Dean, his eyes hard and cold. “Now? I say it’s time we went home boys. I think it’s time the Fraternity paid for what it’s done to the Winchester family.”
Sam didn’t doubt his messed up relationship with Dean was a part of those words, but John seemed to be willing to overlook it for the sake of his revenge. No one moved at first and Sam knew Dean well enough to understand what he was working through. He wanted to trust his father but the Fraternity had messed with him pretty good. Dean didn’t need to be told to understand that. In the end though, Dean lowered the gun. “You ready to take the house down, Sammy?” Dean asked, finally looking over his shoulder at Sam.
“Is he ready for this, Dean?” John cut Sam off before he could answer. “Can he stand on his own against the others?”
Dean smirked. “Oh yeah, Sammy is definitely ready for the family business.”
Chapter Three