Blood Runes: Chapter 7
Chapter 7
“Stop talking like we’ve already lost!” Dean snarled at Zifnab’s dragon. “There has to be something we can do. Can’t we just close it again--reverse the spell?”
Haplo shared a glance with Alfred, recalling how they had managed to close Death’s Gate before. “The gate can probably be closed, if it’s like the original, but that one had been fully opened, and this one looks more like Death’s Gate did before that.”
“How?” Dean grabbed the front of Haplo’s clothing and shook him. “How’d you do it?” Haplo resisted the urge to push Dean away, knowing his actions came from worry and fear for someone important to him. Years ago, Haplo would have seen it as unforgivable weakness, but now he understood.
“Alfred and I combined our magic, something like what you used to open the tower door. I can’t remember exactly how it worked. I think you would need to be inside the gate though, and that’s impossible in its current state--the mind can’t handle it.”
“It’s true.” Alfred laid a soothing hand on one of Dean’s tense shoulders. “The gates are not meant to be entered in this half open state, and it may do far more harm than good to fully open this new gate. Death’s Gate almost destroyed everything before it was finally closed.”
“But you agree there’s a chance,” Dean insisted, clinging to the meager hope offered him. “If I can get to Sam-”
“Your brother may be in no state to help you,” Zifnab’s dragon disagreed. “Can’t you feel the danger? The only reason the leftover magical forces from the creation of the gate have not turned this tower into a crater is because your brother is holding them back. See how the dragon-snakes have already fled, like rats from a sinking ship?” It was true. There was no sign of the dragon-snakes, save Azazel’s body. “Most of his own energy must have been used in the spell. When what is left fails him, the energy will be released without guidance. We must retreat while there is time.”
“No!” Dean turned to look at the dome of light, now beginning to flicker and pulsate again. He hadn’t turned quite quickly enough to hide his anguished expression. “I’m not leaving my brother if he’s still alive in there!”
Castiel stumbled forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, right above the hand-shaped mark. “Sam must realize what’s happening,” the dragon said gently. “It’s likely that he’s holding the energy back so there is time for us, for you, to get away from this place. Would you have that be for nothing?”
“I won’t leave him,” Dean repeated stolidly. “The rest of you should go, but as long as there’s any chance that I can help him, I have to take it.”
“What if you can’t?” Dean flinched at the gentle question.
“Then I won’t let him die alone.” Dean shrugged off the hand and walked across the roof to the dome of light. He stretched out one hand and pulled it back in surprise when the energy crackled across it like a static charge. Dean took one deep, steadying breath and walked through the barrier.
Castiel limped back to the others. “We should go,” he declared, though he seemed reluctant. “We can watch what happens from a distance. Dean would not want to risk everyone, only himself.”
They left the tower in silence, transported by the dragons. Whatever happened next was out of their hands.
***
Dean squinted into the bright light and waited for his eyes to adjust a bit, aided by his magic.
“Sam?” His voice sounded small and faint to his ears, like he was shouting in the middle of a wide open space instead of what he knew to be a fairly small one within the magical dome. There was no reply.
Chancing a glance upward, Dean noticed that the paradox of the partially opened gate what even more dramatic as viewed from the rune structure directly beneath it. It was a gaping void ready to swallow everything, a darkness so black it could only be the absence of anything and everything, and then it was a tiny speck, barely noticeable unless one knew where to look, radiating a light so bright one couldn’t look directly at it anyway, and every combination between, all seemingly at the same time.
Dean tore his eyes away from the gate and moved cautiously toward the spot where he had last seen his brother. Finally, a form appeared, dark against all the magical glow. Dean couldn’t help a surprised gasp when he could see his brother clearly. Sam was standing, though it was more like his feet were rooted to the ground than he was standing under his own power, the rest of his body slumped forward as though he were so exhausted he couldn’t even hold himself upright. He was completely motionless except for a fine tremor throughout his form. His eyes stared vacantly forward.
That empty gaze was the worst for Dean--it was like his brother was already gone. He had to remind himself that that couldn’t be the case. Sam was still holding back the magic, but time was clearly running out quickly.
“Sam?” he tried calling again. He may as well have spoken to a rock. He reached out a hand to touch his brother’s bare arm above one of the strange gloves he’d come to realize were somehow connected to the blood magic. Perhaps physical contact could reach him when mere words could not?
The moment Dean’s skin touched his brother’s, he was struck by a wave of sensation and emotion. He could feel Sam’s desperation as well as the pain his efforts were bringing him. Even his unconscious barriers had fallen, the power used to keep others from reading his thoughts and feelings diverted to the task of restraining the residual magic. Suddenly, the impressions he could clearly identify as his brother were consumed by something darker, a mighty hunger for power and blood.
Dean drew his hand back with a frown. He hadn’t realized how far Sam’s dependence on the blood magic had progressed. It would make it that much more difficult for his brother to break away from the vicious cycle of the forbidden magic later, provided they survived this at all, but Dean could possibly revive his brother with his own blood.
Gritting his teeth through the overwhelming sensations, Dean pulled the gloves from his brother hands. He slipped a small skinning knife from a sheath in his right boot and sliced across both his own palms and then those of his brother. He joined their hands, both granting his brother direct access to his blood and completing the circle. Dean expected the draining sensation of his blood flowing to his brother, but he didn’t expect the pull on his mind.
***
Sam came back to awareness slowly. His body still felt heavy and useless, the magic still battering at him, trying to find a way out, but it seemed like he’d suddenly received a boost to his own power. It was probably only his rebellious body’s last desperate attempt at survival. All it would accomplish would be him being aware of the end as it happened. Unconsciousness would have been a blessing.
“Sam.”
Now he was hallucinating! His dying brain was giving him flashes of the familiar and comforting. It was too much to hope that his brother had come for him after the cruel things he’d said to Dean and the part he’d played in fulfilling the dragon-snakes’ plans.
Sam decided death was indeed swiftly approaching when his life began to flash before his eyes.
***
First came one of Sam’s earliest clear memories. Their father had been away tracking something, leaving Dean and Sam in a well-concealed cave. Sam was old enough to begin receiving the tattoos for offensive magic on his arms and legs instead of just the defensive ones he already bore on his torso, but he had to learn them all first.
It was a rite of passage that he should have undergone with his parents. Instead, as had been the case for almost all of Sam’s life that he could recollect, he had Dean.
“The runes of power, Sam,” Dean instructed, handing his younger brother a stick and gesturing to the sandy earth of the cave floor. “Name them and draw them. All of them. I know you can do it.”
Sam had stuck out his lower lip petulantly. “If you know I can do it, what’s the point?”
“You’ve got to know them so well that you don’t even have to think about it. It’s got to come as naturally as breathing.” Dean pointed at the ground again. “Do it.”
“Why?” Sam knew he would never get away with this kind of behavior with their father, and he was likely pushing his luck with Dean.
“You know why. This prison is trying to kill us every moment of every day, and we have to fight.”
“I hate fighting.”
“I know.” Dean sat down beside him and wrapped his slightly larger hand around Sam’s that still held the stick. “This is the first rune of power...”
***
“I’m here.”
The voice that sounded like Dean was a little louder and stronger. It sounded close enough that if Sam opened his eyes, his brother should be standing right in front of him. It was a cruel, false hope. It would be better not to indulge it.
“I won’t leave you.”
***
Next was a memory from several years later, though the surrounding circumstances were similar. John was off tracking some kind of creature, and Sam and Dean were checking a series of snares for small game to cook for dinner.
Sam stared down at the panting rabbit caught by one of its feet. The animal struggled, but it had exhausted itself trying to escape before Sam and Dean even arrived. If the snare had caught it around the neck, the rabbit would be dead, but it hadn’t.
“You want me to do it?” Dean asked over his shoulder. “I can snap its neck, make it quick.”
“Can’t we let it go, Dean?”
“It probably wouldn’t get very far, Sam. Look at it.” The rabbit’s eyes rolled wildly and its muscles twitched.
“Shouldn’t it get that chance? Shouldn’t it get to try?” Sam expected to hear a flippant remark about how the rabbit was bound to be eaten by something else right after they let it go.
“Fine.” Dean knelt down and cut the rope. “Let it fight like everything else in this place.”
When their father asked why they returned empty handed, Dean said he must have forgotten to check the snare after he set it. They had all gone without dinner so no one would forget again. It was the first time Sam had ever known his brother to lie to their father.
***
“Open your eyes.”
Sam could have sworn he could feel someone holding his hands, but that couldn’t be real. This was certainly the longest adrenaline rush he’d ever experienced, but maybe the passage of time was relative near death.
“Please, look at me.”
***
“Look at me, Sam.” Teenage Sam glared up at his brother. Soon he would hit the growth spurt his brother had at his age, but until then, he was forced to accept his smaller stature.
“Why’d you step in like that, Dean? Now they’ll think I’m even more of a weakling!”
Dean had just chased off a small group of Squatter boys around Sam’s age who’d had him cornered.
“You sure didn’t look like you were making much of an effort to get them to leave on your own,” Dean retorted with a scoff. “What was all that about, anyway?”
“They think I’m weird because I didn’t volunteer to go with the hunting party. They think I’m afraid or that I’m not strong or skilled enough and don’t want anyone to know.”
Dean snorted. “Like any of them can talk! If they tried to spend a night outside the Squatter camp, they’d be snog scat by sunrise. You’re ten times the hunter any of them are.”
“They were right, though. I am different from everyone. I don’t enjoy the hunting and the killing like I should.”
“Not everybody does.”
“You do.” Sam stared defiantly at his brother, daring him without words to deny it.
“I won’t lie,” Dean answered after a pause for thought. “I do get a sense of satisfaction from hunting the monsters in the Labyrinth, but the kill isn’t the major draw for me.” Dean’s voice dropped to a more confidential tone as though he were afraid someone might overhear his next words, even though no one was around. “I like to know that there’s one less threat for our people in the area--that they can rest that tiny bit easier for just a little while longer.” He smirked crookedly at Sam. “Guess that makes me strange, too.”
***
The phantom grip on Sam’s hands tightened, but that could just be his extremities cramping. He wished his mind would just give up and be done with it!
“Don’t you leave me just yet, Sam. Don’t you dare.”
***
The next memory was from only a few days before Sam had left his family to follow Xar to the Nexus. Like many evenings before it, Sam and his father had argued vehemently, if quietly enough not to draw unwanted attention, and Sam had stormed off afterward, but just far enough for a bit of breathing room without creating a dangerous separation. Sometimes Dean would follow him after a while, and this was one of those times.
“You didn’t really think he was going to agree to avoid the wolfen after you showed him that migratory pattern, did you?”
“He’s insane!” Sam glowered at a tuft of grass as though he could cause it to burst into flames by will power alone.
“Don’t say that-”
“It’s true! This prison has a goal, Dean, and everyone knows it. There is a way out, if we keep moving forward, and that’s supposed to be where we’re going. How many times have we gone back though a Gate we’ve passed through before? How close might we have gotten to the Final Gate, only to turn around and throw ourselves back into this death trap? I think our father wants to die here, and sometimes I wonder if we should just let him!”
There was a long moment of stunned silence. Sam couldn’t believe he’d let himself speak those words aloud, despite how many times he’d thought them over the years. He waited with bated breath for an angry denial from Dean. In his brother’s eyes, their father was capable of doing very little wrong.
“Maybe he does.” Sam gaped at his brother. “All the more reason we have to stick together. I have to keep him alive as long as I can, Sam. You and he are all I have.”
“You’re all I have, too.” Sam gnawed his lower lip before deciding he might as well speak his mind as long as he apparently couldn’t control his mouth. “But you’re not all I want.”
Sam caught the flash of deep hurt before Dean schooled his features back to neutrality, but he stayed and sat with Sam until he was calm enough to return to their father. No more words were spoken that night.
***
“Snap out of it, Sam--I’m getting lightheaded over here!”
Why in the world would his hallucination say something like that? Sam finally pried his eyelids open to find Dean standing in front of him, their hands clasped together. His brother was really here, and he realized that the burst of energy he’d felt before was because his brother had given--was still giving--him blood.
It was very different from the times he’d drunk from Ruby. Her blood had been potent, intoxicating. Dean’s blood had less raw power, but it felt familiar, like Sam could manipulate it more easily, more dynamically. He wondered just how much he’d taken--Dean looked pale and a little shaky. He pulled his hands away, breaking the connection.
“What are you doing here, Dean? I gave you the time to get away from this place. You’ve only prolonged the end. You should go; you might still be able to make it.”
“No.” Sam knew that tone--there would be no convincing Dean to change his mind now. “I’m here to help you fix this.”
“How?”
“Can’t we destroy it?”
“I don’t think so.” Sam shook his head. “The dragon-snakes had a lot of time to plan this, and I had plenty of time to study this construct while I was trapped here waiting for everyone to arrive. Maybe if I had weeks to study this, I could find a way to unravel it or possibly reverse it, but we don’t have that kind of time. Taking a shot in the dark could destabilize the gate enough to make it even more dangerous than the energy I’ve been holding back.”
“Then we’ll close it and lock it. Haplo and Alfred told me that thing’s only partly open right now. They closed Death’s Gate by combining their magic, Patryn and Sartan together. We could channel that left over energy and create a seal on the closed gate. I think I know how; I did it before with the lock on the tower door.”
Suddenly, Sam could see a picture in his mind of what his brother meant. He realized that even though they were no longer touching physically, a mental connection remained as long as Dean’s blood was still providing him its power. His trip through his memories had been Dean pulling him back to himself. Sam felt hope again.
“How do we do this?” he asked.
“You take care of the Sartan side of things--you’re more familiar with it. I’ll use Patryn rune magic, and you help focus it at the gate.” Sam realized that Dean could use their connection to see Sam’s thoughts as well. He was still a conduit pointed right at the new gate, so casting the spell here should amplify it even further.
Dean stepped forward and stood back to back with Sam. Connected as they were, he could move along with Sam as he danced the Sartan runes, knowing what the motions would be as Sam thought them. In turn, Sam could see the mental image Dean had of what the sealing construct would look like, knew the combined runes they would need and the order in which to cast them.
They started out slow, first focussing on closing the gate. Sam felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he saw the image in their shared consciousness of a large wooden door pushing closed, followed by a large beam falling to bar it. They picked up speed as the seal began to take shape, a hole left in the middle for a key rune that would require a combination of Patryn and Sartan magic like they were using now. A key the dragon-snakes were unlikely to ever manage.
They slumped against each other once they’d finished the spell, holding one another upright. The dome of light dissipated around them. The connection between them from Dean’s blood was waning, but still present enough for Dean to be aware the same moment Sam realized there was still some residual energy remaining from the dragon-snakes’ original spell.
“I don’t think I can cast anything else,” Sam lamented as he panted for air. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, it’s not enough for a big explosion. Maybe it will just dissipate.”
“I don’t know if I’m willing to trust our luck, the way it’s been going lately.” Dean nudged his brother reassuringly with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, though. I think I know what we can do with it.”
“What?” Sam was genuinely puzzled.
“If you can hear me, please come out.” Sam felt Dean call out both verbally and mentally.
“Who are you calling? Didn’t everyone leave?”
“I think there’s someone or something here that can’t leave this tower,” Dean explained. “Couldn’t you feel a presence here, like someone was always watching you? It helped me earlier, after I was captured, and I think I met it once before that a long time ago.”
Before Sam could ask what he meant by that, he felt another presence on the rooftop. A small form crept out of the shadow of the doorway from the stairs and Sam gawked at what appeared to be a small child. An oddly familiar child at that.
“Hey, Dean, that almost looks like-”
“Me. Well, what I looked like when our mother died.”
“What?”
“That’s the first time we met, isn’t it?” Dean ignored his brother’s question and addressed the strange boy. “Later on, I thought I’d imagined you, but I didn’t. You’ve been helping me all along, haven’t you? You always warned me when there was danger and helped me find advantages in fights. You gave me that blood blade.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” Sam racked his brain for some kind of explanation and his eyes widened when Dean sent it to him in a thought. “You mean this child represents...?”
“Say hello to the consciousness of the Labyrinth itself.”
Dean used their wavering mental connection to pull Sam into one last memory, this time one of his own.
***
The Squatter encampment was burning all around Dean and the air was filled with smoke, embers, and pain filled cries. His father pressed his infant brother into his arms, turned him around, and pushed him forward.
“Run, Dean! Run until you can’t go any farther and then hide until I come for you! Go!”
Dean ran, only aware enough of where he was going to avoid crashing into any large obstacles. His mind whirled with images of his mother standing defiantly before the dragon that had attacked the village, the moment she fell, the terrible cry that passed his father’s lips at that moment, and the chaos all around.
He tripped over an exposed root and rolled on the way down so he would not crush Sam. The baby still let out a mewl of protest and Dean hushed him frantically. He looked around wildly and noticed he was near something very large and tall that was covered in plants. It looked like a good place to have at his back.
He huddled against the wall, curling into the smallest ball he could manage, protecting his brother with his own body. Dean wasn’t old enough for the fighting runes, yet. His scrawny, bare arms and legs a harsh reminder of his relative weakness. However, his parents had taught him a bit of defensive magic, and he had seen his mother create a defensive barrier once.
Dean shifted Sam so that he was held only in his left arm, freeing the other to begin tracing the defensive runes Dean knew by heart. Squeezing his eyes closed, he concentrated with all his might on creating a rune barrier all around him, like a bubble of magic. He pushed all of his fear and loneliness into the spell, and remembering his mother’s words, all his love and protective feelings for his brother as well. His father had told him that harnessing his emotion instead of giving in to it could strengthen his magic.
Dean cracked one eye open and sighed in relief at the glow of the rune barrier around him. Only a portion of the barrier was visible, the rest of the spherical shield passing through the ground beneath him and wall behind him. He knew he wasn’t terribly powerful, so he continued pushing his emotions into the barrier to help strengthen and maintain it. He knew the glow of the runes could draw unwanted attention, but he felt safer inside the shield.
As if merely thinking of the possibility brought it about, a figure appeared outside the barrier. It cocked its head to one side as though it weren’t sure quite what to make of the two Patryn children.
Dean knew he should be afraid of the creature, but it wasn’t like any of the monsters of which his parents and the headman had warned him, and it didn’t seem threatening. It was the shape of a person, but it was shadowy and indistinct.
“I’m sorry if I bothered you,” Dean choked out in a tiny whisper. “I’m just trying to protect my brother.”
The creature’s outline shimmered, and suddenly Dean was looking at a reflection of himself, only without the baby in his arms. His double stared at him a few more moments before it turned sharply to stare at the underbrush nearby and then disappeared. Moments later, Dean’s father rushed into the clearing.
“Dean?”
Dean negated the barrier and scrambled over to his father.
“I’m sorry!” he mumbled into his father’s leg. “I know you told me to hide.”
“That’s very impressive defensive magic for someone so young. You’re safe, and that’s what matters.”
His father tried to take Sam, but Dean wouldn’t let go, so he grabbed his son’s free hand and pulled him away into the night. Dean looked back over his shoulder, and in a dark recess high upon the strange wall he thought he saw his own face watch him leave.
***
“You ran to the tower.” Sam spoke his realization aloud. “You’ve been here before.”
“You’ve been here all alone a very long time, haven’t you?” Once again, Dean ignored his brother to address the Labyrinth child. “The Sartan who used to be here disappeared somehow and left you with no one to guide you. All you knew was the fear and disdain they had for their prisoners and that you were meant to punish them. You were afraid of the hateful, violent Patryns you were left to guard, so you created the most awful creatures you could to fight them.
“This place was supposed to reform my people. Instead, with no one to guide your power, you let your fear rule, and this place became a nightmare--the terror of a childlike mind run wild. The Patryns had to fight even harder to survive, and it only fed their hate. It became a vicious cycle. Then the dragons arrived, and you were even more confused.”
Sam craned his neck to look at his brother. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going, but the Labyrinth creature was slowly and warily moving closer to them, and he decided to let his brother take the lead for now.
“When you first met me, I was different than what you’d come to expect, right? I wasn’t filled with the terrible violence and hatred you feared. Maybe you even found a kindred spirit in how afraid and alone I felt that night. That’s why you chose me to help you fight the dragon-snakes.
“I’m still different, you know. Despite all the terrible things I’ve seen and done since then, I’m still not driven by hate. Wasn’t that the goal all along? Your job is done; you’ve proved that Patyrns can change.” Dean reached out a hand toward the child. “Check me if you want. See that I’m not the thing you fear. If I can change, the rest can, too. It may take some work for a lot of us, but we can do it if you let us try.”
The child cocked its head to the side like a bird and eyed Dean’s hand. Sam gasped as it lunged forward and bit it. His brother didn’t flinch, instead smiling down at the strange creature.
“See?” he asked. “I’m ‘reformed.’ Just like your original masters wanted. I’ll bet you’d like to change the Labyrinth so it’s less scary, wouldn’t you?” The child nodded hesitantly. “It’s gotten out of hand, right? You’re not sure you’re strong enough? Well, we’ve got some power you can use. Let us help you?”
The Labyrinth child took a step back and then reached out to take Dean’s hand. Dean reached back with his free hand and found one of Sam’s.
“Complete the circle, Sam,” he urged gently. Sam reached out slowly, palm up to appear non-threatening. The child grabbed it in a surprisingly strong grip that was cool to the touch.
Sam felt the creature’s mind press into the connection he still had with Dean. The bond strengthened again from its failing state, and Sam followed Dean’s lead as his brother guided the Labyrinth child to think of the Labyrinth the way they wanted it to be. The child began to glow as Sam felt the last of the residual magic flow out of him and into the creature. The child took a deep breath, and as it released it, a wave of magic was released, spreading outward like a massive ripple, disappearing into the distance around them. The child pulled its hands away, smiled at them, and disappeared.
Sam felt his strength beginning to return, now that he no longer had to restrain the magic. Dean, however, didn’t look so good.
“Do you need some help?”
“I can make it,” Dean stubbornly insisted, though his eyelids kept slipping closed. “Just give me a minute.” Then he slumped forward, unconscious.
Sam smiled fondly at his brother before he hefted him over one shoulder and carefully made his way out of the tower.
***
Haplo and the others watched the spot in the sky where the new gate pulsed and whirled ominously. As another beam shot up toward the gate, Haplo held his breath and he suspected many of the others did as well. There was no way of knowing what to expect. There was bright flash of light that forced the Patryn to turn away and then a booming sound. When he looked back, the gate was gone. There was still a slight irregularity to the sky in the place where it had been, but it was easy to miss, if one didn’t know precisely where to look.
“The gate is closed,” Zifnab’s dragon announced. “Now to see if they can find a way to dissipate the remaining magic.”
Haplo could feel the decrease in the energy remaining. He had a few moments to ponder what the brothers might be doing before there was another blinding flash.
Everyone was a bit alarmed to feel the wave of magic pass through them, but the calm in its wake was soothing.
“What was that?” Marit wondered aloud. She scanned the area around them warily.
“They did it.” Castiel declared, a smile on his normally serious face.
“The threat of the residual energy is gone,” Zifnab’s dragon confirmed.
“But what did they do with it?” Marit looked like she was still expecting some kind of explosion.
“This place was about due for a remodel,” Zifnab informed her with a friendly nudge of his bony elbow. “Extreme Makeover: Sartan Prison Edition!”
Marit rolled her eyes and Haplo shook his head at the loony old wizard. Now that he mentioned it, though, the Labyrinth felt different. The calm after the wave had remained. Before, there was always a palpable feeling of malice throughout the prison. Even with no direct threats around, it was almost impossible to feel completely safe.
“Are they all right, I wonder?” Alfred looked toward the tower concernedly.
“I will go and find out.” With that remark, Castiel disappeared.
A few moments later he returned with Sam and his unconscious brother. Dean did not appear to be seriously injured and was likely in the midst of a healing sleep. All eyes focused upon Sam and he looked down self-consciously. His entire demeanor had changed from the arrogance of before. There were a few moments of tense silence.
“Well,” Zifnab broke the silence, “I hope you’ve learned you lesson, my boy!”
“Oh, I have,” Sam said sincerely. “I’ll never use the blood magic again.”
“Also,” the old wizard carried on, the sleeves of his robes flapping madly as he waved his arms, “say no to drugs, stay in school, and eat your vegetables!”
Sam looked duly perplexed.
“It’s best to just ignore him,” Haplo offered. The others, including the wizard’s own dragon grunted agreement.
“The dragon-snakes will likely return to try to open the gate again someday,” Zifnab’s dragon cautioned, “but for the time being, the threat has passed.”
Sam looked at his brother and then back toward the tower in the distance.
“When they do, we’ll be waiting for them.”
Previous || Master Post || Next
“Stop talking like we’ve already lost!” Dean snarled at Zifnab’s dragon. “There has to be something we can do. Can’t we just close it again--reverse the spell?”
Haplo shared a glance with Alfred, recalling how they had managed to close Death’s Gate before. “The gate can probably be closed, if it’s like the original, but that one had been fully opened, and this one looks more like Death’s Gate did before that.”
“How?” Dean grabbed the front of Haplo’s clothing and shook him. “How’d you do it?” Haplo resisted the urge to push Dean away, knowing his actions came from worry and fear for someone important to him. Years ago, Haplo would have seen it as unforgivable weakness, but now he understood.
“Alfred and I combined our magic, something like what you used to open the tower door. I can’t remember exactly how it worked. I think you would need to be inside the gate though, and that’s impossible in its current state--the mind can’t handle it.”
“It’s true.” Alfred laid a soothing hand on one of Dean’s tense shoulders. “The gates are not meant to be entered in this half open state, and it may do far more harm than good to fully open this new gate. Death’s Gate almost destroyed everything before it was finally closed.”
“But you agree there’s a chance,” Dean insisted, clinging to the meager hope offered him. “If I can get to Sam-”
“Your brother may be in no state to help you,” Zifnab’s dragon disagreed. “Can’t you feel the danger? The only reason the leftover magical forces from the creation of the gate have not turned this tower into a crater is because your brother is holding them back. See how the dragon-snakes have already fled, like rats from a sinking ship?” It was true. There was no sign of the dragon-snakes, save Azazel’s body. “Most of his own energy must have been used in the spell. When what is left fails him, the energy will be released without guidance. We must retreat while there is time.”
“No!” Dean turned to look at the dome of light, now beginning to flicker and pulsate again. He hadn’t turned quite quickly enough to hide his anguished expression. “I’m not leaving my brother if he’s still alive in there!”
Castiel stumbled forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, right above the hand-shaped mark. “Sam must realize what’s happening,” the dragon said gently. “It’s likely that he’s holding the energy back so there is time for us, for you, to get away from this place. Would you have that be for nothing?”
“I won’t leave him,” Dean repeated stolidly. “The rest of you should go, but as long as there’s any chance that I can help him, I have to take it.”
“What if you can’t?” Dean flinched at the gentle question.
“Then I won’t let him die alone.” Dean shrugged off the hand and walked across the roof to the dome of light. He stretched out one hand and pulled it back in surprise when the energy crackled across it like a static charge. Dean took one deep, steadying breath and walked through the barrier.
Castiel limped back to the others. “We should go,” he declared, though he seemed reluctant. “We can watch what happens from a distance. Dean would not want to risk everyone, only himself.”
They left the tower in silence, transported by the dragons. Whatever happened next was out of their hands.
***
Dean squinted into the bright light and waited for his eyes to adjust a bit, aided by his magic.
“Sam?” His voice sounded small and faint to his ears, like he was shouting in the middle of a wide open space instead of what he knew to be a fairly small one within the magical dome. There was no reply.
Chancing a glance upward, Dean noticed that the paradox of the partially opened gate what even more dramatic as viewed from the rune structure directly beneath it. It was a gaping void ready to swallow everything, a darkness so black it could only be the absence of anything and everything, and then it was a tiny speck, barely noticeable unless one knew where to look, radiating a light so bright one couldn’t look directly at it anyway, and every combination between, all seemingly at the same time.
Dean tore his eyes away from the gate and moved cautiously toward the spot where he had last seen his brother. Finally, a form appeared, dark against all the magical glow. Dean couldn’t help a surprised gasp when he could see his brother clearly. Sam was standing, though it was more like his feet were rooted to the ground than he was standing under his own power, the rest of his body slumped forward as though he were so exhausted he couldn’t even hold himself upright. He was completely motionless except for a fine tremor throughout his form. His eyes stared vacantly forward.
That empty gaze was the worst for Dean--it was like his brother was already gone. He had to remind himself that that couldn’t be the case. Sam was still holding back the magic, but time was clearly running out quickly.
“Sam?” he tried calling again. He may as well have spoken to a rock. He reached out a hand to touch his brother’s bare arm above one of the strange gloves he’d come to realize were somehow connected to the blood magic. Perhaps physical contact could reach him when mere words could not?
The moment Dean’s skin touched his brother’s, he was struck by a wave of sensation and emotion. He could feel Sam’s desperation as well as the pain his efforts were bringing him. Even his unconscious barriers had fallen, the power used to keep others from reading his thoughts and feelings diverted to the task of restraining the residual magic. Suddenly, the impressions he could clearly identify as his brother were consumed by something darker, a mighty hunger for power and blood.
Dean drew his hand back with a frown. He hadn’t realized how far Sam’s dependence on the blood magic had progressed. It would make it that much more difficult for his brother to break away from the vicious cycle of the forbidden magic later, provided they survived this at all, but Dean could possibly revive his brother with his own blood.
Gritting his teeth through the overwhelming sensations, Dean pulled the gloves from his brother hands. He slipped a small skinning knife from a sheath in his right boot and sliced across both his own palms and then those of his brother. He joined their hands, both granting his brother direct access to his blood and completing the circle. Dean expected the draining sensation of his blood flowing to his brother, but he didn’t expect the pull on his mind.
***
Sam came back to awareness slowly. His body still felt heavy and useless, the magic still battering at him, trying to find a way out, but it seemed like he’d suddenly received a boost to his own power. It was probably only his rebellious body’s last desperate attempt at survival. All it would accomplish would be him being aware of the end as it happened. Unconsciousness would have been a blessing.
“Sam.”
Now he was hallucinating! His dying brain was giving him flashes of the familiar and comforting. It was too much to hope that his brother had come for him after the cruel things he’d said to Dean and the part he’d played in fulfilling the dragon-snakes’ plans.
Sam decided death was indeed swiftly approaching when his life began to flash before his eyes.
***
First came one of Sam’s earliest clear memories. Their father had been away tracking something, leaving Dean and Sam in a well-concealed cave. Sam was old enough to begin receiving the tattoos for offensive magic on his arms and legs instead of just the defensive ones he already bore on his torso, but he had to learn them all first.
It was a rite of passage that he should have undergone with his parents. Instead, as had been the case for almost all of Sam’s life that he could recollect, he had Dean.
“The runes of power, Sam,” Dean instructed, handing his younger brother a stick and gesturing to the sandy earth of the cave floor. “Name them and draw them. All of them. I know you can do it.”
Sam had stuck out his lower lip petulantly. “If you know I can do it, what’s the point?”
“You’ve got to know them so well that you don’t even have to think about it. It’s got to come as naturally as breathing.” Dean pointed at the ground again. “Do it.”
“Why?” Sam knew he would never get away with this kind of behavior with their father, and he was likely pushing his luck with Dean.
“You know why. This prison is trying to kill us every moment of every day, and we have to fight.”
“I hate fighting.”
“I know.” Dean sat down beside him and wrapped his slightly larger hand around Sam’s that still held the stick. “This is the first rune of power...”
***
“I’m here.”
The voice that sounded like Dean was a little louder and stronger. It sounded close enough that if Sam opened his eyes, his brother should be standing right in front of him. It was a cruel, false hope. It would be better not to indulge it.
“I won’t leave you.”
***
Next was a memory from several years later, though the surrounding circumstances were similar. John was off tracking some kind of creature, and Sam and Dean were checking a series of snares for small game to cook for dinner.
Sam stared down at the panting rabbit caught by one of its feet. The animal struggled, but it had exhausted itself trying to escape before Sam and Dean even arrived. If the snare had caught it around the neck, the rabbit would be dead, but it hadn’t.
“You want me to do it?” Dean asked over his shoulder. “I can snap its neck, make it quick.”
“Can’t we let it go, Dean?”
“It probably wouldn’t get very far, Sam. Look at it.” The rabbit’s eyes rolled wildly and its muscles twitched.
“Shouldn’t it get that chance? Shouldn’t it get to try?” Sam expected to hear a flippant remark about how the rabbit was bound to be eaten by something else right after they let it go.
“Fine.” Dean knelt down and cut the rope. “Let it fight like everything else in this place.”
When their father asked why they returned empty handed, Dean said he must have forgotten to check the snare after he set it. They had all gone without dinner so no one would forget again. It was the first time Sam had ever known his brother to lie to their father.
***
“Open your eyes.”
Sam could have sworn he could feel someone holding his hands, but that couldn’t be real. This was certainly the longest adrenaline rush he’d ever experienced, but maybe the passage of time was relative near death.
“Please, look at me.”
***
“Look at me, Sam.” Teenage Sam glared up at his brother. Soon he would hit the growth spurt his brother had at his age, but until then, he was forced to accept his smaller stature.
“Why’d you step in like that, Dean? Now they’ll think I’m even more of a weakling!”
Dean had just chased off a small group of Squatter boys around Sam’s age who’d had him cornered.
“You sure didn’t look like you were making much of an effort to get them to leave on your own,” Dean retorted with a scoff. “What was all that about, anyway?”
“They think I’m weird because I didn’t volunteer to go with the hunting party. They think I’m afraid or that I’m not strong or skilled enough and don’t want anyone to know.”
Dean snorted. “Like any of them can talk! If they tried to spend a night outside the Squatter camp, they’d be snog scat by sunrise. You’re ten times the hunter any of them are.”
“They were right, though. I am different from everyone. I don’t enjoy the hunting and the killing like I should.”
“Not everybody does.”
“You do.” Sam stared defiantly at his brother, daring him without words to deny it.
“I won’t lie,” Dean answered after a pause for thought. “I do get a sense of satisfaction from hunting the monsters in the Labyrinth, but the kill isn’t the major draw for me.” Dean’s voice dropped to a more confidential tone as though he were afraid someone might overhear his next words, even though no one was around. “I like to know that there’s one less threat for our people in the area--that they can rest that tiny bit easier for just a little while longer.” He smirked crookedly at Sam. “Guess that makes me strange, too.”
***
The phantom grip on Sam’s hands tightened, but that could just be his extremities cramping. He wished his mind would just give up and be done with it!
“Don’t you leave me just yet, Sam. Don’t you dare.”
***
The next memory was from only a few days before Sam had left his family to follow Xar to the Nexus. Like many evenings before it, Sam and his father had argued vehemently, if quietly enough not to draw unwanted attention, and Sam had stormed off afterward, but just far enough for a bit of breathing room without creating a dangerous separation. Sometimes Dean would follow him after a while, and this was one of those times.
“You didn’t really think he was going to agree to avoid the wolfen after you showed him that migratory pattern, did you?”
“He’s insane!” Sam glowered at a tuft of grass as though he could cause it to burst into flames by will power alone.
“Don’t say that-”
“It’s true! This prison has a goal, Dean, and everyone knows it. There is a way out, if we keep moving forward, and that’s supposed to be where we’re going. How many times have we gone back though a Gate we’ve passed through before? How close might we have gotten to the Final Gate, only to turn around and throw ourselves back into this death trap? I think our father wants to die here, and sometimes I wonder if we should just let him!”
There was a long moment of stunned silence. Sam couldn’t believe he’d let himself speak those words aloud, despite how many times he’d thought them over the years. He waited with bated breath for an angry denial from Dean. In his brother’s eyes, their father was capable of doing very little wrong.
“Maybe he does.” Sam gaped at his brother. “All the more reason we have to stick together. I have to keep him alive as long as I can, Sam. You and he are all I have.”
“You’re all I have, too.” Sam gnawed his lower lip before deciding he might as well speak his mind as long as he apparently couldn’t control his mouth. “But you’re not all I want.”
Sam caught the flash of deep hurt before Dean schooled his features back to neutrality, but he stayed and sat with Sam until he was calm enough to return to their father. No more words were spoken that night.
***
“Snap out of it, Sam--I’m getting lightheaded over here!”
Why in the world would his hallucination say something like that? Sam finally pried his eyelids open to find Dean standing in front of him, their hands clasped together. His brother was really here, and he realized that the burst of energy he’d felt before was because his brother had given--was still giving--him blood.
It was very different from the times he’d drunk from Ruby. Her blood had been potent, intoxicating. Dean’s blood had less raw power, but it felt familiar, like Sam could manipulate it more easily, more dynamically. He wondered just how much he’d taken--Dean looked pale and a little shaky. He pulled his hands away, breaking the connection.
“What are you doing here, Dean? I gave you the time to get away from this place. You’ve only prolonged the end. You should go; you might still be able to make it.”
“No.” Sam knew that tone--there would be no convincing Dean to change his mind now. “I’m here to help you fix this.”
“How?”
“Can’t we destroy it?”
“I don’t think so.” Sam shook his head. “The dragon-snakes had a lot of time to plan this, and I had plenty of time to study this construct while I was trapped here waiting for everyone to arrive. Maybe if I had weeks to study this, I could find a way to unravel it or possibly reverse it, but we don’t have that kind of time. Taking a shot in the dark could destabilize the gate enough to make it even more dangerous than the energy I’ve been holding back.”
“Then we’ll close it and lock it. Haplo and Alfred told me that thing’s only partly open right now. They closed Death’s Gate by combining their magic, Patryn and Sartan together. We could channel that left over energy and create a seal on the closed gate. I think I know how; I did it before with the lock on the tower door.”
Suddenly, Sam could see a picture in his mind of what his brother meant. He realized that even though they were no longer touching physically, a mental connection remained as long as Dean’s blood was still providing him its power. His trip through his memories had been Dean pulling him back to himself. Sam felt hope again.
“How do we do this?” he asked.
“You take care of the Sartan side of things--you’re more familiar with it. I’ll use Patryn rune magic, and you help focus it at the gate.” Sam realized that Dean could use their connection to see Sam’s thoughts as well. He was still a conduit pointed right at the new gate, so casting the spell here should amplify it even further.
Dean stepped forward and stood back to back with Sam. Connected as they were, he could move along with Sam as he danced the Sartan runes, knowing what the motions would be as Sam thought them. In turn, Sam could see the mental image Dean had of what the sealing construct would look like, knew the combined runes they would need and the order in which to cast them.
They started out slow, first focussing on closing the gate. Sam felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile as he saw the image in their shared consciousness of a large wooden door pushing closed, followed by a large beam falling to bar it. They picked up speed as the seal began to take shape, a hole left in the middle for a key rune that would require a combination of Patryn and Sartan magic like they were using now. A key the dragon-snakes were unlikely to ever manage.
They slumped against each other once they’d finished the spell, holding one another upright. The dome of light dissipated around them. The connection between them from Dean’s blood was waning, but still present enough for Dean to be aware the same moment Sam realized there was still some residual energy remaining from the dragon-snakes’ original spell.
“I don’t think I can cast anything else,” Sam lamented as he panted for air. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, it’s not enough for a big explosion. Maybe it will just dissipate.”
“I don’t know if I’m willing to trust our luck, the way it’s been going lately.” Dean nudged his brother reassuringly with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, though. I think I know what we can do with it.”
“What?” Sam was genuinely puzzled.
“If you can hear me, please come out.” Sam felt Dean call out both verbally and mentally.
“Who are you calling? Didn’t everyone leave?”
“I think there’s someone or something here that can’t leave this tower,” Dean explained. “Couldn’t you feel a presence here, like someone was always watching you? It helped me earlier, after I was captured, and I think I met it once before that a long time ago.”
Before Sam could ask what he meant by that, he felt another presence on the rooftop. A small form crept out of the shadow of the doorway from the stairs and Sam gawked at what appeared to be a small child. An oddly familiar child at that.
“Hey, Dean, that almost looks like-”
“Me. Well, what I looked like when our mother died.”
“What?”
“That’s the first time we met, isn’t it?” Dean ignored his brother’s question and addressed the strange boy. “Later on, I thought I’d imagined you, but I didn’t. You’ve been helping me all along, haven’t you? You always warned me when there was danger and helped me find advantages in fights. You gave me that blood blade.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” Sam racked his brain for some kind of explanation and his eyes widened when Dean sent it to him in a thought. “You mean this child represents...?”
“Say hello to the consciousness of the Labyrinth itself.”
Dean used their wavering mental connection to pull Sam into one last memory, this time one of his own.
***
The Squatter encampment was burning all around Dean and the air was filled with smoke, embers, and pain filled cries. His father pressed his infant brother into his arms, turned him around, and pushed him forward.
“Run, Dean! Run until you can’t go any farther and then hide until I come for you! Go!”
Dean ran, only aware enough of where he was going to avoid crashing into any large obstacles. His mind whirled with images of his mother standing defiantly before the dragon that had attacked the village, the moment she fell, the terrible cry that passed his father’s lips at that moment, and the chaos all around.
He tripped over an exposed root and rolled on the way down so he would not crush Sam. The baby still let out a mewl of protest and Dean hushed him frantically. He looked around wildly and noticed he was near something very large and tall that was covered in plants. It looked like a good place to have at his back.
He huddled against the wall, curling into the smallest ball he could manage, protecting his brother with his own body. Dean wasn’t old enough for the fighting runes, yet. His scrawny, bare arms and legs a harsh reminder of his relative weakness. However, his parents had taught him a bit of defensive magic, and he had seen his mother create a defensive barrier once.
Dean shifted Sam so that he was held only in his left arm, freeing the other to begin tracing the defensive runes Dean knew by heart. Squeezing his eyes closed, he concentrated with all his might on creating a rune barrier all around him, like a bubble of magic. He pushed all of his fear and loneliness into the spell, and remembering his mother’s words, all his love and protective feelings for his brother as well. His father had told him that harnessing his emotion instead of giving in to it could strengthen his magic.
Dean cracked one eye open and sighed in relief at the glow of the rune barrier around him. Only a portion of the barrier was visible, the rest of the spherical shield passing through the ground beneath him and wall behind him. He knew he wasn’t terribly powerful, so he continued pushing his emotions into the barrier to help strengthen and maintain it. He knew the glow of the runes could draw unwanted attention, but he felt safer inside the shield.
As if merely thinking of the possibility brought it about, a figure appeared outside the barrier. It cocked its head to one side as though it weren’t sure quite what to make of the two Patryn children.
Dean knew he should be afraid of the creature, but it wasn’t like any of the monsters of which his parents and the headman had warned him, and it didn’t seem threatening. It was the shape of a person, but it was shadowy and indistinct.
“I’m sorry if I bothered you,” Dean choked out in a tiny whisper. “I’m just trying to protect my brother.”
The creature’s outline shimmered, and suddenly Dean was looking at a reflection of himself, only without the baby in his arms. His double stared at him a few more moments before it turned sharply to stare at the underbrush nearby and then disappeared. Moments later, Dean’s father rushed into the clearing.
“Dean?”
Dean negated the barrier and scrambled over to his father.
“I’m sorry!” he mumbled into his father’s leg. “I know you told me to hide.”
“That’s very impressive defensive magic for someone so young. You’re safe, and that’s what matters.”
His father tried to take Sam, but Dean wouldn’t let go, so he grabbed his son’s free hand and pulled him away into the night. Dean looked back over his shoulder, and in a dark recess high upon the strange wall he thought he saw his own face watch him leave.
***
“You ran to the tower.” Sam spoke his realization aloud. “You’ve been here before.”
“You’ve been here all alone a very long time, haven’t you?” Once again, Dean ignored his brother to address the Labyrinth child. “The Sartan who used to be here disappeared somehow and left you with no one to guide you. All you knew was the fear and disdain they had for their prisoners and that you were meant to punish them. You were afraid of the hateful, violent Patryns you were left to guard, so you created the most awful creatures you could to fight them.
“This place was supposed to reform my people. Instead, with no one to guide your power, you let your fear rule, and this place became a nightmare--the terror of a childlike mind run wild. The Patryns had to fight even harder to survive, and it only fed their hate. It became a vicious cycle. Then the dragons arrived, and you were even more confused.”
Sam craned his neck to look at his brother. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going, but the Labyrinth creature was slowly and warily moving closer to them, and he decided to let his brother take the lead for now.
“When you first met me, I was different than what you’d come to expect, right? I wasn’t filled with the terrible violence and hatred you feared. Maybe you even found a kindred spirit in how afraid and alone I felt that night. That’s why you chose me to help you fight the dragon-snakes.
“I’m still different, you know. Despite all the terrible things I’ve seen and done since then, I’m still not driven by hate. Wasn’t that the goal all along? Your job is done; you’ve proved that Patyrns can change.” Dean reached out a hand toward the child. “Check me if you want. See that I’m not the thing you fear. If I can change, the rest can, too. It may take some work for a lot of us, but we can do it if you let us try.”
The child cocked its head to the side like a bird and eyed Dean’s hand. Sam gasped as it lunged forward and bit it. His brother didn’t flinch, instead smiling down at the strange creature.
“See?” he asked. “I’m ‘reformed.’ Just like your original masters wanted. I’ll bet you’d like to change the Labyrinth so it’s less scary, wouldn’t you?” The child nodded hesitantly. “It’s gotten out of hand, right? You’re not sure you’re strong enough? Well, we’ve got some power you can use. Let us help you?”
The Labyrinth child took a step back and then reached out to take Dean’s hand. Dean reached back with his free hand and found one of Sam’s.
“Complete the circle, Sam,” he urged gently. Sam reached out slowly, palm up to appear non-threatening. The child grabbed it in a surprisingly strong grip that was cool to the touch.
Sam felt the creature’s mind press into the connection he still had with Dean. The bond strengthened again from its failing state, and Sam followed Dean’s lead as his brother guided the Labyrinth child to think of the Labyrinth the way they wanted it to be. The child began to glow as Sam felt the last of the residual magic flow out of him and into the creature. The child took a deep breath, and as it released it, a wave of magic was released, spreading outward like a massive ripple, disappearing into the distance around them. The child pulled its hands away, smiled at them, and disappeared.
Sam felt his strength beginning to return, now that he no longer had to restrain the magic. Dean, however, didn’t look so good.
“Do you need some help?”
“I can make it,” Dean stubbornly insisted, though his eyelids kept slipping closed. “Just give me a minute.” Then he slumped forward, unconscious.
Sam smiled fondly at his brother before he hefted him over one shoulder and carefully made his way out of the tower.
***
Haplo and the others watched the spot in the sky where the new gate pulsed and whirled ominously. As another beam shot up toward the gate, Haplo held his breath and he suspected many of the others did as well. There was no way of knowing what to expect. There was bright flash of light that forced the Patryn to turn away and then a booming sound. When he looked back, the gate was gone. There was still a slight irregularity to the sky in the place where it had been, but it was easy to miss, if one didn’t know precisely where to look.
“The gate is closed,” Zifnab’s dragon announced. “Now to see if they can find a way to dissipate the remaining magic.”
Haplo could feel the decrease in the energy remaining. He had a few moments to ponder what the brothers might be doing before there was another blinding flash.
Everyone was a bit alarmed to feel the wave of magic pass through them, but the calm in its wake was soothing.
“What was that?” Marit wondered aloud. She scanned the area around them warily.
“They did it.” Castiel declared, a smile on his normally serious face.
“The threat of the residual energy is gone,” Zifnab’s dragon confirmed.
“But what did they do with it?” Marit looked like she was still expecting some kind of explosion.
“This place was about due for a remodel,” Zifnab informed her with a friendly nudge of his bony elbow. “Extreme Makeover: Sartan Prison Edition!”
Marit rolled her eyes and Haplo shook his head at the loony old wizard. Now that he mentioned it, though, the Labyrinth felt different. The calm after the wave had remained. Before, there was always a palpable feeling of malice throughout the prison. Even with no direct threats around, it was almost impossible to feel completely safe.
“Are they all right, I wonder?” Alfred looked toward the tower concernedly.
“I will go and find out.” With that remark, Castiel disappeared.
A few moments later he returned with Sam and his unconscious brother. Dean did not appear to be seriously injured and was likely in the midst of a healing sleep. All eyes focused upon Sam and he looked down self-consciously. His entire demeanor had changed from the arrogance of before. There were a few moments of tense silence.
“Well,” Zifnab broke the silence, “I hope you’ve learned you lesson, my boy!”
“Oh, I have,” Sam said sincerely. “I’ll never use the blood magic again.”
“Also,” the old wizard carried on, the sleeves of his robes flapping madly as he waved his arms, “say no to drugs, stay in school, and eat your vegetables!”
Sam looked duly perplexed.
“It’s best to just ignore him,” Haplo offered. The others, including the wizard’s own dragon grunted agreement.
“The dragon-snakes will likely return to try to open the gate again someday,” Zifnab’s dragon cautioned, “but for the time being, the threat has passed.”
Sam looked at his brother and then back toward the tower in the distance.
“When they do, we’ll be waiting for them.”
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