Fic: Die Another Day 6/? PG:13 SPN/HL/Deadwood
Title: Die Another Day
Rating: PG:13
Spoilers: SPN: 7.10 Death's Door, HL: 5.20 Archangel, Deadwood: 3.11 The Catbird Seat
Crossover, AU
Summary: When Bobby mysteriously disappears from the hospital after an encounter with the Leviathan Sam and Dean think they know what’s behind it. But the truth is beyond any of their wildest dreams and will change the way they see the older hunter forever. Spoilers all episodes up to 7.10 "Death's Door" Supernatural/Highlander/Deadwood crossover
A/N: OK, I am never setting a deadline for myself again! I wanted to get to a certain point in the story by mid-November, and if I wrote a chapter per week and a half I could have made it. As soon as I decided that however the muse up and took a vacation, so the chapter that should have taken less than a week to finish up took almost a month. *fumes*
Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited or chose to follow this story and a very big thank you to those who are following me as an author. Every time I get a notice from I do the dance of joy.
Warning: Descriptions of vomiting at the start of this chapter, so you might not want to read it while eating.
Thanks, as always, to dnachemlia for the beta.
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oooOOOoooSam braced his shoulder against a tree and heaved violently. What little had been in his stomach when he escaped the house was now long gone and dry heaves had set in. This can't be happening. Not on top of everything. Why, Bobby? he pleaded in his mind. Why didn't you tell me? As another wave of retching wracked his body Sam felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder while another began to rub his back in slow, firm circles.
"Just take a deep breath, Sam. It's OK." Bobby's voice was gentle, like the tone you'd use with a frightened animal. "I promise you, it's OK."
His touch had an immediate calming effect. The familiar sensation brought back memories of similar situations in the past, such as the time a vicious flu virus sidelined all three Winchester men. John had barely managed to coast the Impala into the salvage yard before passing out and they all spent the next week in their own personal Hells; their dad was unconscious most of the time while he and Dean practically lived in the bathroom, worshipping at the porcelain altar. It seemed like no sooner did Sam drop to his knees then Bobby was there with a cool cloth and a bottle of old fashioned ginger beer, rubbing his back as he was now.
Sam turned so that his back was pressed against the tree, its rough bark digging into his skin. He shut his eyes tightly and took deep gulping breaths, willing his body to relax further. The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was the silver flask Bobby was holding in front of his face. "Oh God, Bobby, no. I can't," he gasped as his stomach protested at the thought of alcohol. "Really, I don't think-"
Rolling his eyes, Bobby explained. "It's holy water. Go on and get that taste outta your mouth. You'll feel better."
Sam gratefully accepted the flask, using the first two mouthfuls to rinse away the taste of stomach acid and bile, then took a long deep drink, sighing in relief as the water cooled the burning in his throat. The relief was only fleeting however, for no sooner had the liquid reached his stomach than another spasm sent it back up.
Bobby caught him as he pitched forward, dizzy from the exertion. "Come on Sasquatch," he sighed wearily. "Let's sit you down." He half led, half dragged Sam to a fallen tree and pushed him down onto the trunk. "Try sipping instead of chugging this time," he said as he pressed the water back into Sam's hands.
Nodding, Sam obediently sipped, taking in only a drop or two at a time. Just as his body began to calm, his mind too ceased its violent reaction and the ability to form rational, cohesive thoughts returned. He had to know. "Bobby? I know you said earlier that you won't tell someone if they are going to become Immortal but... would you tell them if they aren't?"
Bobby huffed a short humorless laugh. "What, being an angel's meatsuit and a Winchester to boot isn't enough for you? You wanna add freak of nature Immortal to the list?"
"No! I don't want... I just-"
"This has got somethin' to do with you getting you soul back, don't it?"
The question brought Sam up short and he blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"
He sighed and looked off into the distance. "I've had a... feeling there might be some sort of connection between Quickenings and souls for a while now. Started when I saw Death shoehorning yours back into you. Then Cas told me about souls being energy, but it was watching him release all those souls back into purgatory that cinched it."
"What does it mean?" Sam felt sick. When he'd learned about the Game he was apprehensive, but Bobby had been able to allay his fears. This, however... "When my head broke and I had to put the pieces back together... It was just like what Richie described. I 'killed' the other Sams, then this burst of energy flowed out of them and into me. Suddenly everything they knew, I knew: thoughts, memories, emotions. Everything. Was that… did I take a Quickening? Am I going to become an Immortal?"
"No, Sam. That's not what happened and no, you ain't a future player in the Game."
"But then what-"
"I don't know." Bobby was silent a long moment, then shook his head. "I gotta admit that what Cas did-sucking up all those souls to give himself god-like power sounds an awfully lot like-"
"The Prize." Sam swallowed hard. "Is that what a Quickening is? A soul?"
He shook his head again. "No, I don't think that's it, or at least not all of it. I mean, if we were somehow absorbing each other's souls there wouldn't be any Immortal ghosts 'cause everything we are would become part of whoever took our head. But there have been plenty of sightings over the years: Alec Hill haunted his wife; Mac had visits from Fitzcairn and Sean Burns when he was in trouble and about to give up. And Ahriman summoned the ghost of one seriously evil Immortal by the name of Kronos to haunt Mac when the two of them faced off in the nineties. Not to mention a few of the corpses I've salted 'n burned over the years had been decapitated, leading me to wonder if they'd been one of us." Bobby rubbed his eyes wearily. "I don't know, this is all new to me too and I haven't exactly had a lot of down time to ponder the possibilities. Listen, folks a lot smarter than me have been trying to figure out what the whole Quickening/Game/Prize thing means for thousands of years now. Tons of theories have flown around but we ain't any closer to the answer. But one answer I am sure of is that you are one-hundred percent mortal." He silenced Sam's protest with a wave of his hand. "Just hold up and think a minute. You remember how I said Immortals get jumpstarted?"
Sam shrugged, not understanding where Bobby was going. "A violent death."
"Right. Kinda like, oh I don't know, getting stabbed in the back after a big fight maybe?"
Sam's eyes slowly widened as it dawned on him what Bobby was referring to. "Cold Oak."
"Yep. You were... gone for a full day. Now it's true that the first time we come back it takes a while for our batteries to recharge, but I ain't never heard of it taking more than a few hours. So if you were one of us you'd have come back long before Dean ran off to play kissy face with that demon." Sam sighed in relief, but Bobby wasn't finished yet. "And if that ain't enough to convince you, here's something else. Everyone from Yellow-Eyes to the angels to Lucifer himself have all said the same thing: you and Dean are special because of your bloodline. Cupid even roofied your folks to make sure you two were born and the bloodline continued, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, Immortals don't have bloodlines."
"What?" Sam frowned, trying to understand. "What do you mean you don't have-"
"We're foundlings, every last one of us," he said matter-of-factly. "Nobody knows where we come from or how we come into being- whether we're born or... hatched from eggs for that matter, we ain't got a clue. Now, Richie grew up in foster care; Mac was taken in by his folks after their son died at birth-"
"And you?"
Bobby looked down and took a deep breath before answering him. "Foundling home until I was nine. Then... well, I guess folks figured I was big enough to be useful and I got 'adopted' by a family two towns over. But all I ever was to them was a farm hand they didn't have to pay. That and an extra punching bag for my 'father'," he added under his breath. Looking up he smiled sadly at the horror on Sam's face. "It was a long time ago. A really long time ago. And I did learn a lesson from the old man: I learned what kind of man not to be." He shook his head to bring himself back to the present. "Anyway, my point here is that anyone who can trace their family line, even if it's just back to their parents, can't be Immortal." He laid a hand gently on Sam's forearm. "You and Dean may have a lot of crappy issues to deal with, but Immortality is not one of them."
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oooOOOoooBy the time Bobby ushered a haggard looking Sam back into the room Dean was nearly frantic. "It's about damn time!" he shouted. "What the hell happened back there Sammy? I mean one minute you're ok, the next you bolt outta the room like you've got a hellhound on your tail."
"I'm fine, Dean," was all Sam could manage to get out.
"You're fine? Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah, you absolutely look fine."
"Dean-"
Dean turned his frustration on Bobby. "What happened between the two of you out there? You said you thought you knew what it was about, so let's hear it!"
Bobby wasn't sure what to say. Dean deserved the truth, but one look at Sam's pale, exhausted face told him the younger Winchester wasn't up to explaining his end. "Later, OK Dean?"
Dean stared, unblinking, at Bobby for a long minute. "'Later?' Seriously, that's all you're gonna say to me? 'Later'?"
Grabbing Dean by the arm Bobby pulled him off to a corner at the opposite side of the room. "Dean, look at your brother," he said in an angry whisper. "He's wiped. Just... give him some time to wrap his head around everything-"
"Wrap his head around what?" He cast a look back at Sam who sat slumped at the table, his head cradled in his hands. "OK, I get it. Sam's not up to a big heart to heart. What about you?"
Bobby closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. There was no way he could explain things without Sam's input. "Look, it wasn't a hallucination. He's not seeing Lucifer or images of Hell he just... hearing Richie's story just sorta reminded him of something, that's all." He grasped Dean's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Dean, please, just trust me."
Dean hesitated, and Bobby could see in his eyes the need to know warring with his faith in the old hunter. "Yeah, all right," he said at last. "I'll back off. But I'm telling you now Bobby, once we get to your place I want it all. The whole story, no more holding back."
"You'll get it," Bobby replied, then added in his mind, I just hope you can handle it all.
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oooOOOoooBobby and Richie chatted while the latter continued to clean up, catching up on news of old friends. While the two of them talked Dean walked around, taking inventory of everything in the room. The house Richie and Mac were operating out of looked no different than any of the countless ones he and Sam had shared over the years: broken down furniture, dusty moth eaten curtains that blocked out both the sun and prying eyes and various bits of research and evidence scattered about, covering the walls and every available surface.
"You know, you don't have to do that," Bobby said with a slight laugh as Richie swept empty take-out containers and crumpled newspaper off the makeshift table and into a trash can. "Trust me, livin' with these two I've seen much worse."
"No. No, I know, it's just..." Richie stood, hands on hips and sighed. "It's just that this is the first job I've worked with you since..."
"Since I pushed you outta the nest and sent you off to hunt on your own?" At Richie's meek nod Bobby chucked softly. "It's not like I'm gonna be grading you, ya know."
"I know!" Richie laughed and raised his hands, the high pitch of his laughter making him seem even younger. "God, I don't know what I'm doing. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm kinda touched you still want my approval." Bobby smiled as he helped by depositing an empty pizza box into the trash. "So where are Mac and Adam?" he asked.
"Mac had to make a supply run into Deadwood. Let's see, what'd he say again? 'I'm going to go steal a few things out of Bobby's storage lock-up, don't tell him.' Whoops." The mischievous grin on the kid's face told Dean that comment was no accident. "Anyway, he's gonna pick Adam up from the hospital on the way back. They should be here shortly."
"Hospital? Mac mentioned that Adam's son is sick, is he that bad?" Dean frowned, worried the hunt might be taking the man away from his seriously ill son.
"Oh, no sorry." Richie held up a hand and smiled. "Adam's a doctor in the ER. Memorial hospital's on the way from Bobby's place, so they figured it'd be easier for him to hitch a ride with Mac rather than drive in himself."
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, makes sense I guess."
Richie nodded, then nervously began shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he turned to his fellow Immortal. "Uh, Bobby?" he said apprehensively. "You know, the news of your 'return' is spreading fast."
"Seriously?" The older hunter looked up in surprise. "It hasn't even been two days yet."
"The internet, ya gotta love it. Anyway... I got a call earlier."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Richie bit his lower lip and added, "From James in Lead."
"Oh?" Bobby froze. "Oh."
Another nod. "He wants you to call him when you get the chance."
"Uh-huh."
"He said you'd know why." Richie raised his eyebrows and looked at Bobby expectantly, but he just gave a noncommittal grunt.
"Who is this guy Bobby?" Dean asked with more than a touch of worry in his voice. "What's he want with you?"
Bobby sighed and wracked his brain, trying to come up with a story. Aw, the hell with it. Might as well tell the truth, he decided. "Don't worry about James, he's a friend... And an ex-hunter," he added hesitantly.
That drew Sam's attention back to the room. "'Ex-hunter'? Bobby, there's no such thing."
"Not for mortal hunters maybe, but things are a little different for us." Bobby pulled up a chair and sat next to Sam, motioning to Dean to do the same. "We Immortals can't stay in one place too long, otherwise folks will notice we don't age. Even with the transient life hunters lead we still have to be careful about that. Maybe even more so for hunters since we run the risk of the others deciding we need to be hunted ourselves. So, once we've been around too long- or if we die publicly- we have to move on to a new life somewhere else."
"So that's why this James guy isn't hunting?" Dean asked.
Bobby gave a single quick nod. "He was 'killed' by a demon and his body discovered before he had a chance to heal and cover up the evidence, so he left the country and let people believe he was dead. He only came back last year, but he's still staying away from mortal hunters for the time being." He paused to take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "These days he goes by James McKenna, but... I think you boys know him better as Jim Murphy."
For the second time in two days Dean felt his world turn upside-down and he struggled to make the pieces fit again. "Pastor Jim?"
"Pastor Jim's alive?" Sam asked, staring wide-eyed at Bobby, who just nodded.
"I can't believe I'm asking this question again, but," Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead, "Anymore doornails coming out of that door?"
Bobby tried not to laugh. He remembered hearing about Dean's reaction to Sam and Samuel's resurrections and could only imagine how the young man must be feeling now. "No. Just Jim."
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "But why... why didn't he tell us he was alive like you did? Where's he been all this time?"
Bobby decided to answer the easier question first. "He went back to Europe for a while. There's a monastery in Austria that was founded for Immortals who want to get out of the Game and heal from what living like we do for centuries does to us. He spent a couple of years there, then went back to Greece to... reconnect I guess you'd call it, with his roots. He was originally from Thessalonica."
Dean frowned. "Thessawhat?"
"Thessalonica," Bobby repeated. "It's a city in Greece. Back in Roman times it was an important trade city in the region, as well as a major foothold of the early Christians. You know the Letters to the Thessalonians in the Bible? Well, that's where the Thessalonians were from. Jim's been a Christian preacher for almost as long as there's been Christianity. And as for why he didn't say anything to you... Well, first of all John was still alive, and Jim had a pretty good idea of how he'd react." He paused as both boys rolled their eyes and nodded in agreement, knowing the reaction the elder Winchester would have had. "But mostly he was just too shell shocked to talk to anyone. You gotta understand, what Meg did-attacking him in his church like that- it shook Jim right to his core. For nearly all his Immortal life he relied on God and holy ground to keep him protected."
Sam frowned in confusion. "Holy ground?"
"It's the only place Immortals are truly safe," Richie explained, taking a place at the table. "No Immortal, no matter how evil they are will ever attack on holy ground. It's probably the most sacred rule we have. Cemeteries, Christian churches, Native American sacred land... it doesn't matter. As long as some group considers the place to be holy, we're forbidden from fighting there."
Sam and Dean shared a look, a puzzle piece from their childhood finally slotting into place. "That's why Jim almost never left his church?" Dean asked. "He was staying on holy ground; keeping out of the Game?"
Bobby nodded. "Jim was-is- a man of peace. He vowed to never raise his hand against his fellow man, and for more than one and a half millennia he mostly kept it. In all that time I've only heard of him fighting three other Immortals and only one of them didn't walk away afterward. But the problem with staying on holy ground for centuries is you tend to grow complacent. You forget that not everyone-or everything- out there respects that rule and you leave yourself open to non-Immortal attackers."
"Like demons, for instance," Sam said.
"Exactly," Bobby agreed. "So between that and losing his voice he felt... I don't know... lost I guess."
"His voice?"
He grimaced, remembering what he'd been told of the attack. "When Meg cut his throat she severed his vocal cords. It took a long time for him to be able to talk above a whisper, and even now his voice isn't the same."
Richie took up the narrative. "If Meg had shot him in the head or stabbed him in the heart he'd have been fine. But she got him in our one vulnerable spot. The throat is the only place where we don't heal instantly and completely. Oh, it healed eventually, but it left a jagged scar behind and destroyed his voice. Same thing happened when Mac fought an opera singer back in the 20's named Kalas. Kalas almost took his head, but Mac managed to cut his throat with a piece of glass. They both survived that encounter, but Kalas never sang again."
The brothers sat in silence, occasionally looking at each other, and Bobby knew what they were thinking. Jim's voice had always been his most striking feature. Not because it was particularly beautiful, or that his singing ability was deserving of a recording contract. But the way it could convey strength and gentleness, power and humility all at the same time was what caught most people's attention. When he gave a sermon even Dean, who usually used church time to catch up on his comic book reading, paid attention. For him to have lost that gift...
"I want to see him," Dean insisted and Sam nodded in agreement.
Bobby smiled at them both. "That's what the phone call, and all the others before it, were about. Now that he's back Jim's after me to come clean about what he and I are. He even planned to fall on his sword for me-metaphorically speaking. He was going to reveal his Immortality to you, and then depending on how you reacted I'd either chime in or keep quiet. That way if you couldn't accept it I wouldn't risk losing you." He laughed quietly to himself. "Guess that plan's out the window now."
Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's Jim for you, always thinking of others."
Bobby grinned and nodded. "That he does. So it's settled then. Tomorrow I'll take you over to his new church. It's not even ten minutes from my place."
"Sounds good, but first we've got a job to do. Any idea when the rest of the team will show up?"
As if on cue they heard the rumble of a car engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as another vehicle pulled up outside the old house. Dean watched as both Immortals stiffened, reacting to some unseen force.
Gritting his teeth Bobby took a deep breath. "Showtime."
Princes of the Universe
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oooOOOoooA/N2: I'm starting to wonder if someone from the SPN visual effects team used to work on Highlander. Go back and watch Sam's dream sequence from "The Man Who Knew Too Much," Castiel expelling the souls back into purgatory in "Meet the New Boss" or the ghost soul-sucking scene from "Of Grave Importance" and tell me they don't look like Quickenings to you.