Spiral 1/?
Title: Spiral 1/?
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 so far
Summary: The first demon versus human war that occurred four years ago tore the Winchester family apart. The second that fast approaches threatens to do the same.
Disclaimer: Not mine so far. But I'm keeping an eye out for them under my Christmas tree.
Author's Notes: Will be bottom!Sam.
Sam dragged his eyes open, pushing the memories of fire and screams away to once more take refuge in the back of his mind. His whole body felt sluggish, his mind disoriented and foggy as he struggled to move. Wherever it was he had been taken to smelled of mold and moth balls; the dirty concrete floor chilled him even through his clothes and his hand landed in something warm and slick as he attempted to push himself to sit up.
“He’s awoken!” a shrill, nasally voice broke the silence of the dark room, the sound piercing Sam’s skull and making his head throb as though someone was rhythmically taking a hammer to it. “The Demi’s awoken! Tell Bela!”
Sam grabbed the bars of his cage and pulled himself up on shaking legs as the overhead lights came on, the neon glow weak and flickering. Looking around, he realized that he was in what appeared to be an old jail. One of those tiny ones that sheriffs and deputies of small towns would tuck away drunks and minors for the night in an attempt to teach them a lesson. The cell was about twelve by twelve with thick, rusty bars just as high.
“Normally I’d be worried that such a crude manner of containment wouldn’t hold a creature like yourself.”
The voice belonged to woman about a foot and some inches smaller than himself, sashaying as she entered the room. She had wavy brown hair with blonde strands weaved into it and a small figure. Her voice had an English accent to it and despite her light tone it held nothing but superiority; she had an air about her that made it obvious she was used to getting her way.
Her blue eyes looked Sam up and down, an amused twist to the side of her lips. “You, however, I hear is different.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Sam spat.
“No? So then you’re not Samuel Winchester, son of the leader of the Demis?” Bela chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. I’m never wrong about my targets. I know what and who you are, and I know that you’re as harmless as a kitten despite that big body of yours.”
Her eyes lingered with obvious interest on the crotch of Sam’s pants and he glared as she licked her lips suggestively.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I told you, you’re a target. A very important client of mine is very interested in you, Sam. Although I can’t understand why they would want a de-clawed tiger. You’re more suited for entertainment purposes now and if it weren’t for the sizable bounty on your head, I might have considered keeping you for my own pet.”
Somehow Sam didn’t doubt that. “What makes you think I’ll allow you to deliver me?”
“Because as I said,” Bela smirked, “you’re harmless. Sure at one point you would have been a real challenge, but ever since the deaths of Jessica Moore and Mary Winchester you’ve been doing nothing but running and cowering. Now don‘t you go anywhere, I have a little message to send.”
Casting one last superior look at him, Bela strode from the room. Two of the slimy creatures who had been watching from the sidelines slithered over to stand guard on either side of the door to his cage and Sam recognized them as Zecks. Figured a bounty hunter would use such a creature as minions - they were dumb as stumps and nothing without a leader. They must have jumped at the chance to have someone boss them around. Their appearance was something like a lizard or fish; but they dragged themselves on two hind legs that were bent backwards at the knee like an ostridge while two skinny arms dangled at their sides and their fingers were webbed. The creature’s green, scaly skin smelled like sewage with pieces of seaweed hanging off their bodies as though they‘d just climbed out of a bog. They breathed loudly and wheezy through gaping, sharp-toothed mouths, and when excited they’d drool all over the place like a Saint Bernard dog.
Sam backed away from the bars and sat down heavily on an old cot, coughing as dust rose from the hard surface and into the air. There had once been a time when he would have been able to free himself without so much as breaking a sweat, but those days were over.
There could be a number of different people that Bela could have been talking about when she had said a client was interested in him. Demis, like she’d said, were very desired by demons and humans alike for either death or servitude and the fact there was a bounty on his head did not surprise him in the least.
During the war four years prior, Sam had been one of the most ruthless and powerful of the Demis. He’d killed anyone that stood in his path without much remorse his only goal having been victory. It had been frighteningly easy at times to let the satisfied feeling course through him as he watched the life drain from a victim’s eyes but it had been a necessity back then or at least that’s what he’d tried to make himself believe. His mother had not liked what all the chaos turned him into, but it’d been an addiction and he just couldn’t stop.
Until Jessica’s death, anyway. A Hunter killed her and since he’d already lost his mother by that point, Jess being taken from him had been the last straw. He blamed himself not only because she had lost her life battling in a war that he helped to thrive, but because he hadn’t been around to protect her. So even before the war’s end he’d taken off as quickly and as quietly as he could. He just wanted to keep moving and to try to forget, but it was obvious that he had let his guard down too much if Bela had been able to capture him. And if it had not been her, then most likely someone else would have taken her place.
As the hours ticked slowly by, Sam crammed himself onto the cot with his legs bent at awkward angles as he tried to sleep. His eyes moved beneath his lids, the reds and oranges of raging fires consuming his thoughts. Sam could almost even smell the burning wood and the scent of sulfur.
All at once his body stiffened and he was pulled from his restless slumber as he sensed someone.. No, a number of someones quickly approaching. He had just pushed himself to sit up when the wooden door of the room burst open in a barrage of gunfire. The Zecks squealed like pigs as the bullets found their marks in their flesh, small bodies flung back under the force.
Sam jumped off the cot as one of the figures shoved a lock pick into the cell door and within moments it was squeaking open on it‘s rusty hinges. Then Sam was being roughly dragged out of the building, passed Beck corpses and Bela’s slumped form, although she was still breathing so obviously his ‘rescuers’ had simply knocked the woman unconscious, and then Sam was being shoved into the back of a van and a potato bag was pulled over his head.
“This has got to be the dumbest thing we’ve ever done!” a male voice hissed as the van swerved this way and that under Sam.
He flexed his wrists experimentally, but they were tied pretty tightly together behind the small of his back.
“Dumb or not we have orders,” a female retorted.
“I know that, Sarah. A Demi is bad enough, but this one? He could kill us with one freaking thought!”
“Exactly, Ash. He could kill us, but he hasn’t. So just sit down, shut up, and do as you’re told.”
The male, Ash, grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further. Sam sighed to himself. He couldn’t even be relieved to be away from Bela, since he had no idea if he’d just gone from the pot into the fire. All in all it was turning out to be one hell of a night.
After what felt like a lifetime, Sam felt the van slow to a halt and then the hands were back pulling him from the van and practically dragging him into a building. His boots scraped against what sounded like wooden floors as he struggled to keep up with the people shoving him this way and that. some of the planks squeaked terribly beneath his footing, and the whole place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes even through the potato smell from the bag.
A bar, then. Lovely.
Sam sucked in a gulp of potato scent-free air as the sack was yanked off his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, and realized he’d been brought to a bedroom. A well used one by the look of the rumbled blankets on the mattress and a hastily left duffle bag by the far wall.
“I’ve been looking for you a long time, Sammy.”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat and spun around turned towards the doorway. The voice was deeper and huskier than he remembered, the body it belonged to older and taller but he knew him just the same. Even after thirteen years apart, there was no way he would not remember his older brother.
“Dean..”
Sam hesitated, on one side wanting to take a step towards the older man but at the same time afraid to. So instead he looked him over, starting at his short-cropped hair and achingly familiar green eyes, then down over broad shoulders. Dean was shorter than himself by a few inches, but he was thin and muscular. There was light scaring on his bare arms, only noticeable if someone was looking for them but Sam would bet anything that most of Dean’s scarring was inside of him. Just like his own.
“How.. How’d you know where to find me?”
Dean took a step towards him, a sawed-off shotgun held loosely in his right hand so that it dangled by his thigh. A precaution. “Those damn Zecks are one of the stupidest creatures but they like to talk. I guess keeping someone as important as you a secret was just too much for them.”
“Dean I--”
“Sit.”
Sam complied without even thinking about it, his shoulders starting to ache from the somewhat awkward angle his arms were in. The last time they had seen each other, they had been nine and thirteen respectively and Sam had given Dean the amulet that his brother still wore around his neck. The black twine was frayed in places, a sign of continual wear and Sam swallowed thickly passed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“I’ve heard some very interesting things about you, little brother,” Dean said, walking towards him. He stopped a few inches from Sam’s knees, reaching behind himself to pull a dagger from it’s sheath. “We’re going to have a nice little chat about them, and you’re going to tell me everything you know. Keep in mind that after all these years, you’re nothing to me anymore. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you give me reason to. Understand?”
Sam nodded, turning his body slightly so that Dean could cut the rope from his wrists. He wanted to believe that Dean had been bluffing about killing him, but his brother’s face had been expressionless.
“Dad was devastated when he found out that you and mom had left us,” Dean said, watching Sam rub his chafed skin. “He brought me to a man named Pastor Jim, who in turn knew a man named Caleb. We learned how to be Hunters, so that we could find the two of you. But it’s not easy to track Demi’s down who don’t wish to be found.”
Sam could clearly remember the night that Mary had taken him from his bed and the house as Dean and John slept, her body trembling as she sobbed. Mary had turned the car around to go back home at least a dozen times as they drove away, torn between her family and what she had do to. “I could tell that you’d become a Hunter. You hold yourself like one of them, as if the world was on your shoulders.”
“You mean it’s not?” Dean narrowed his green eyes. “I’ve heard stories about the things that went on during the war, and I’ve bared witness to some of the more horrific ones myself. But I don’t know exactly what happened to you, and you don’t know anything about what I’ve been through. We may share blood but our bond ends there, so don’t act like you can possible comprehend what dad and I went through.”
“I could say the same, Dean. What mom and I had to become was nothing short of a nightmare. And if there is nothing but shared blood between us, and only about half of our blood as is, then why did you rescue me?” He tilted his head slightly, too long bangs falling across his eyes. “Or perhaps it’s my bounty that you’re interested in? Going to turn me over to whoever posted it, Dean? You must be low on cash these days, I’m sure they can compensate you for your time.”
Dean hand shot out and gripped Sam’s chin so hard that he could feel himself bruising under the pressure. “Don’t you say that!” he hissed. “I would never even consider--”
“Liar.” Sam shoved Dean’s hand away. “Money makes the world go round, Dean. Even now. If anything the war has made it harder on everyone; the craters that had once been buildings and towns are attest to that. Hell the fucking ground is still smoking in some places! So don’t you condescend to tell me that you don’t care about my bounty. You’re forgetting that I knew you for nine years, and I can still tell when you’re full of shit.”
The two brothers stared each other down for a moment, then Dean backed up a couple steps and sat down heavily on a wooden chair by the duffle bag. He leaned forward, bent arms resting on his knees.
“Tell me about mom’s death.”
Mary’s screams echoed in the back of his mind once more and Sam swallowed back the taste of stomach acid. “Azazel did it. The son of a bitch burned her alive, right before my eyes and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”
Azazel had been the one to make sure Mary was involved in the first place. The night that he killed her parents and a young John Winchester in cold blood he had tricked the grieving woman into making a deal with him. He would bring her beloved back to life in exchange for one of her children. Driven by grief and despair, Mary agreed and the deal was ended with a kiss. A kiss that tasted of blood and with the disgusting metallic flavor Mary’s fate was sealed.
From then on something changed inside of her, and she became what was known as a Demi. Demi’s were creatures that were half demon and half human, and although they possessed demonic powers they were hated by both sides. They were also fully capable of taking down full demons without breaking a sweat if they played their cards right. Thus the more brave of Hunters sought them out to play on their side of the war, although neither ever fully trusted each other.
For some reason that no one understood, Dean was spared from Mary’s curse but Sam had not been. At six months old he had started to show the Demi ability of telekinesis. So although Azazel had not come for him, his deal with Mary had been complete. John insisted that he could protect his family but Mary knew that in the end it would cost all of them their lives. As the war grew closer she could not fight the fact that for anyone to survive, she and Sam would have to gather with other Demis and train both to protect themselves and their loved ones.
Driven by her emotions Mary had become a leader of her kind, giving them strength through words and actions and with her guidance Sam grew into a powerful fighter and telekinetic. Her death, and her sacrifice had brought about the beginnings of the ending of the war. Azazel still lived, but in taking out Mary he had diminished his power in such a way that he could no longer fight. And as he disappeared back to hell there was no reason for the battling to continue.
The losses far outweighed the wins, however. Sam was proof of that. He had lost not only his mother in the battles, but also the woman that he had fallen in love with. Jessica had deserved so much better.
They all had.
Sam looked up the floor as he fell silent, finding Dean’s schooled features to be disconcerting. Although he knew that he had no right to find Dean’s reaction frustrating. The fact that his brother did not want to share any of his emotions with him should not be surprising.
“Dad is dead too,” Dean said, looking away from Sam for the first time since their reunion. “He sacrificed himself in order to save my life.”
Sam’s pain in hearing that was buried far in his heart, like he was hearing about a distant relative’s death instead of his own father. He supposed it had been like that for Dean to hear about Mary. He cared that John had died of course and wanted to grieve, but at the same time it merely made him feel numb inside.
“How.. I mean what happened?”
Dean shook his head and stood, checking the salt lines that he’d laid at the window before he started to head out of the room. “Some other time maybe. For now get some sleep. I have to discuss with the others what we’re going to do with you.”
The door shut behind Dean and Sam heard the lock click into place. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and laid on his side, burying his face into the pillow. The scents of gun oil and leather coated the fabric, and for the first time in four years, Sam felt safe.
TBC
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 so far
Summary: The first demon versus human war that occurred four years ago tore the Winchester family apart. The second that fast approaches threatens to do the same.
Disclaimer: Not mine so far. But I'm keeping an eye out for them under my Christmas tree.
Author's Notes: Will be bottom!Sam.
Sam dragged his eyes open, pushing the memories of fire and screams away to once more take refuge in the back of his mind. His whole body felt sluggish, his mind disoriented and foggy as he struggled to move. Wherever it was he had been taken to smelled of mold and moth balls; the dirty concrete floor chilled him even through his clothes and his hand landed in something warm and slick as he attempted to push himself to sit up.
“He’s awoken!” a shrill, nasally voice broke the silence of the dark room, the sound piercing Sam’s skull and making his head throb as though someone was rhythmically taking a hammer to it. “The Demi’s awoken! Tell Bela!”
Sam grabbed the bars of his cage and pulled himself up on shaking legs as the overhead lights came on, the neon glow weak and flickering. Looking around, he realized that he was in what appeared to be an old jail. One of those tiny ones that sheriffs and deputies of small towns would tuck away drunks and minors for the night in an attempt to teach them a lesson. The cell was about twelve by twelve with thick, rusty bars just as high.
“Normally I’d be worried that such a crude manner of containment wouldn’t hold a creature like yourself.”
The voice belonged to woman about a foot and some inches smaller than himself, sashaying as she entered the room. She had wavy brown hair with blonde strands weaved into it and a small figure. Her voice had an English accent to it and despite her light tone it held nothing but superiority; she had an air about her that made it obvious she was used to getting her way.
Her blue eyes looked Sam up and down, an amused twist to the side of her lips. “You, however, I hear is different.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Sam spat.
“No? So then you’re not Samuel Winchester, son of the leader of the Demis?” Bela chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. I’m never wrong about my targets. I know what and who you are, and I know that you’re as harmless as a kitten despite that big body of yours.”
Her eyes lingered with obvious interest on the crotch of Sam’s pants and he glared as she licked her lips suggestively.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“I told you, you’re a target. A very important client of mine is very interested in you, Sam. Although I can’t understand why they would want a de-clawed tiger. You’re more suited for entertainment purposes now and if it weren’t for the sizable bounty on your head, I might have considered keeping you for my own pet.”
Somehow Sam didn’t doubt that. “What makes you think I’ll allow you to deliver me?”
“Because as I said,” Bela smirked, “you’re harmless. Sure at one point you would have been a real challenge, but ever since the deaths of Jessica Moore and Mary Winchester you’ve been doing nothing but running and cowering. Now don‘t you go anywhere, I have a little message to send.”
Casting one last superior look at him, Bela strode from the room. Two of the slimy creatures who had been watching from the sidelines slithered over to stand guard on either side of the door to his cage and Sam recognized them as Zecks. Figured a bounty hunter would use such a creature as minions - they were dumb as stumps and nothing without a leader. They must have jumped at the chance to have someone boss them around. Their appearance was something like a lizard or fish; but they dragged themselves on two hind legs that were bent backwards at the knee like an ostridge while two skinny arms dangled at their sides and their fingers were webbed. The creature’s green, scaly skin smelled like sewage with pieces of seaweed hanging off their bodies as though they‘d just climbed out of a bog. They breathed loudly and wheezy through gaping, sharp-toothed mouths, and when excited they’d drool all over the place like a Saint Bernard dog.
Sam backed away from the bars and sat down heavily on an old cot, coughing as dust rose from the hard surface and into the air. There had once been a time when he would have been able to free himself without so much as breaking a sweat, but those days were over.
There could be a number of different people that Bela could have been talking about when she had said a client was interested in him. Demis, like she’d said, were very desired by demons and humans alike for either death or servitude and the fact there was a bounty on his head did not surprise him in the least.
During the war four years prior, Sam had been one of the most ruthless and powerful of the Demis. He’d killed anyone that stood in his path without much remorse his only goal having been victory. It had been frighteningly easy at times to let the satisfied feeling course through him as he watched the life drain from a victim’s eyes but it had been a necessity back then or at least that’s what he’d tried to make himself believe. His mother had not liked what all the chaos turned him into, but it’d been an addiction and he just couldn’t stop.
Until Jessica’s death, anyway. A Hunter killed her and since he’d already lost his mother by that point, Jess being taken from him had been the last straw. He blamed himself not only because she had lost her life battling in a war that he helped to thrive, but because he hadn’t been around to protect her. So even before the war’s end he’d taken off as quickly and as quietly as he could. He just wanted to keep moving and to try to forget, but it was obvious that he had let his guard down too much if Bela had been able to capture him. And if it had not been her, then most likely someone else would have taken her place.
As the hours ticked slowly by, Sam crammed himself onto the cot with his legs bent at awkward angles as he tried to sleep. His eyes moved beneath his lids, the reds and oranges of raging fires consuming his thoughts. Sam could almost even smell the burning wood and the scent of sulfur.
All at once his body stiffened and he was pulled from his restless slumber as he sensed someone.. No, a number of someones quickly approaching. He had just pushed himself to sit up when the wooden door of the room burst open in a barrage of gunfire. The Zecks squealed like pigs as the bullets found their marks in their flesh, small bodies flung back under the force.
Sam jumped off the cot as one of the figures shoved a lock pick into the cell door and within moments it was squeaking open on it‘s rusty hinges. Then Sam was being roughly dragged out of the building, passed Beck corpses and Bela’s slumped form, although she was still breathing so obviously his ‘rescuers’ had simply knocked the woman unconscious, and then Sam was being shoved into the back of a van and a potato bag was pulled over his head.
“This has got to be the dumbest thing we’ve ever done!” a male voice hissed as the van swerved this way and that under Sam.
He flexed his wrists experimentally, but they were tied pretty tightly together behind the small of his back.
“Dumb or not we have orders,” a female retorted.
“I know that, Sarah. A Demi is bad enough, but this one? He could kill us with one freaking thought!”
“Exactly, Ash. He could kill us, but he hasn’t. So just sit down, shut up, and do as you’re told.”
The male, Ash, grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further. Sam sighed to himself. He couldn’t even be relieved to be away from Bela, since he had no idea if he’d just gone from the pot into the fire. All in all it was turning out to be one hell of a night.
After what felt like a lifetime, Sam felt the van slow to a halt and then the hands were back pulling him from the van and practically dragging him into a building. His boots scraped against what sounded like wooden floors as he struggled to keep up with the people shoving him this way and that. some of the planks squeaked terribly beneath his footing, and the whole place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes even through the potato smell from the bag.
A bar, then. Lovely.
Sam sucked in a gulp of potato scent-free air as the sack was yanked off his head, his bangs falling into his eyes, and realized he’d been brought to a bedroom. A well used one by the look of the rumbled blankets on the mattress and a hastily left duffle bag by the far wall.
“I’ve been looking for you a long time, Sammy.”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat and spun around turned towards the doorway. The voice was deeper and huskier than he remembered, the body it belonged to older and taller but he knew him just the same. Even after thirteen years apart, there was no way he would not remember his older brother.
“Dean..”
Sam hesitated, on one side wanting to take a step towards the older man but at the same time afraid to. So instead he looked him over, starting at his short-cropped hair and achingly familiar green eyes, then down over broad shoulders. Dean was shorter than himself by a few inches, but he was thin and muscular. There was light scaring on his bare arms, only noticeable if someone was looking for them but Sam would bet anything that most of Dean’s scarring was inside of him. Just like his own.
“How.. How’d you know where to find me?”
Dean took a step towards him, a sawed-off shotgun held loosely in his right hand so that it dangled by his thigh. A precaution. “Those damn Zecks are one of the stupidest creatures but they like to talk. I guess keeping someone as important as you a secret was just too much for them.”
“Dean I--”
“Sit.”
Sam complied without even thinking about it, his shoulders starting to ache from the somewhat awkward angle his arms were in. The last time they had seen each other, they had been nine and thirteen respectively and Sam had given Dean the amulet that his brother still wore around his neck. The black twine was frayed in places, a sign of continual wear and Sam swallowed thickly passed the lump that had formed in his throat.
“I’ve heard some very interesting things about you, little brother,” Dean said, walking towards him. He stopped a few inches from Sam’s knees, reaching behind himself to pull a dagger from it’s sheath. “We’re going to have a nice little chat about them, and you’re going to tell me everything you know. Keep in mind that after all these years, you’re nothing to me anymore. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you give me reason to. Understand?”
Sam nodded, turning his body slightly so that Dean could cut the rope from his wrists. He wanted to believe that Dean had been bluffing about killing him, but his brother’s face had been expressionless.
“Dad was devastated when he found out that you and mom had left us,” Dean said, watching Sam rub his chafed skin. “He brought me to a man named Pastor Jim, who in turn knew a man named Caleb. We learned how to be Hunters, so that we could find the two of you. But it’s not easy to track Demi’s down who don’t wish to be found.”
Sam could clearly remember the night that Mary had taken him from his bed and the house as Dean and John slept, her body trembling as she sobbed. Mary had turned the car around to go back home at least a dozen times as they drove away, torn between her family and what she had do to. “I could tell that you’d become a Hunter. You hold yourself like one of them, as if the world was on your shoulders.”
“You mean it’s not?” Dean narrowed his green eyes. “I’ve heard stories about the things that went on during the war, and I’ve bared witness to some of the more horrific ones myself. But I don’t know exactly what happened to you, and you don’t know anything about what I’ve been through. We may share blood but our bond ends there, so don’t act like you can possible comprehend what dad and I went through.”
“I could say the same, Dean. What mom and I had to become was nothing short of a nightmare. And if there is nothing but shared blood between us, and only about half of our blood as is, then why did you rescue me?” He tilted his head slightly, too long bangs falling across his eyes. “Or perhaps it’s my bounty that you’re interested in? Going to turn me over to whoever posted it, Dean? You must be low on cash these days, I’m sure they can compensate you for your time.”
Dean hand shot out and gripped Sam’s chin so hard that he could feel himself bruising under the pressure. “Don’t you say that!” he hissed. “I would never even consider--”
“Liar.” Sam shoved Dean’s hand away. “Money makes the world go round, Dean. Even now. If anything the war has made it harder on everyone; the craters that had once been buildings and towns are attest to that. Hell the fucking ground is still smoking in some places! So don’t you condescend to tell me that you don’t care about my bounty. You’re forgetting that I knew you for nine years, and I can still tell when you’re full of shit.”
The two brothers stared each other down for a moment, then Dean backed up a couple steps and sat down heavily on a wooden chair by the duffle bag. He leaned forward, bent arms resting on his knees.
“Tell me about mom’s death.”
Mary’s screams echoed in the back of his mind once more and Sam swallowed back the taste of stomach acid. “Azazel did it. The son of a bitch burned her alive, right before my eyes and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”
Azazel had been the one to make sure Mary was involved in the first place. The night that he killed her parents and a young John Winchester in cold blood he had tricked the grieving woman into making a deal with him. He would bring her beloved back to life in exchange for one of her children. Driven by grief and despair, Mary agreed and the deal was ended with a kiss. A kiss that tasted of blood and with the disgusting metallic flavor Mary’s fate was sealed.
From then on something changed inside of her, and she became what was known as a Demi. Demi’s were creatures that were half demon and half human, and although they possessed demonic powers they were hated by both sides. They were also fully capable of taking down full demons without breaking a sweat if they played their cards right. Thus the more brave of Hunters sought them out to play on their side of the war, although neither ever fully trusted each other.
For some reason that no one understood, Dean was spared from Mary’s curse but Sam had not been. At six months old he had started to show the Demi ability of telekinesis. So although Azazel had not come for him, his deal with Mary had been complete. John insisted that he could protect his family but Mary knew that in the end it would cost all of them their lives. As the war grew closer she could not fight the fact that for anyone to survive, she and Sam would have to gather with other Demis and train both to protect themselves and their loved ones.
Driven by her emotions Mary had become a leader of her kind, giving them strength through words and actions and with her guidance Sam grew into a powerful fighter and telekinetic. Her death, and her sacrifice had brought about the beginnings of the ending of the war. Azazel still lived, but in taking out Mary he had diminished his power in such a way that he could no longer fight. And as he disappeared back to hell there was no reason for the battling to continue.
The losses far outweighed the wins, however. Sam was proof of that. He had lost not only his mother in the battles, but also the woman that he had fallen in love with. Jessica had deserved so much better.
They all had.
Sam looked up the floor as he fell silent, finding Dean’s schooled features to be disconcerting. Although he knew that he had no right to find Dean’s reaction frustrating. The fact that his brother did not want to share any of his emotions with him should not be surprising.
“Dad is dead too,” Dean said, looking away from Sam for the first time since their reunion. “He sacrificed himself in order to save my life.”
Sam’s pain in hearing that was buried far in his heart, like he was hearing about a distant relative’s death instead of his own father. He supposed it had been like that for Dean to hear about Mary. He cared that John had died of course and wanted to grieve, but at the same time it merely made him feel numb inside.
“How.. I mean what happened?”
Dean shook his head and stood, checking the salt lines that he’d laid at the window before he started to head out of the room. “Some other time maybe. For now get some sleep. I have to discuss with the others what we’re going to do with you.”
The door shut behind Dean and Sam heard the lock click into place. He pulled his legs up onto the bed and laid on his side, burying his face into the pillow. The scents of gun oil and leather coated the fabric, and for the first time in four years, Sam felt safe.
TBC