We Start and End with Family - Chapter 8
Title: We Start and End with Family
Summary: Two years after losing his brother, Dean has settled down and started a new family, but he’s never forgotten the family he left behind and his past has not forgotten him.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, ritual abuse and nudity with children present, but not involved. Distorted uses of biblical quotes/Christian doctrine/ceremony.
Spoilers: Through early Season 6
Word Count: 3,090 for this chapter
Author’s Note: Diverges from canon about two minutes before the end of ‘Swan Song’ (no Sam spying on Dean and Lisa).
Written for spn_reversebang. The beautiful art featured along with this story was illustrated by puguita, whose art prompt and bountiful creativity inspired the story. All her illustrations can be found together at the art master post.
A million worlds of thanks to the truly awesome agent_jl36 and ebony_quill for their scene edits and the tremendously kind durtydeefla82 for taking the time to do a read through and edits for the whole shebang on extremely short notice.
The story master post can be found here.
~~~
Continued from Chapter 7
When Sam had told his brother to go live some normal apple pie life, he hadn’t honestly even known what that meant. He’d just wanted Dean to be safe and he knew Dean wouldn’t be safe hunting alone. Dean wasn’t cut out for it. Solo hunting required a cold disregard that just wasn’t Dean. His brother had always cared too much for his own good.
Sending Dean to start a family had made sense. Kids loved him and Dean loved them. It was supposed to be the easy life, working a nine to five and kicking back with the family on the weekends. Instead of being at peace Dean was the most broken Sam had ever seen him. The more stories he heard from Bobby the more he realized Dean’s life was still filled with fear and worry. It wasn’t peace; it was just more of the same with struggling to hold a steady job and childcare heaped on top of it.
For Sam the last two years had been spent caring about nothing. It was just killing and moving on then killing something else. There was no fear. With no connections he had nothing to lose. That had been his refuge, but now he was holding a baby, his niece, in his arms and he still couldn’t feel a damn thing.
After seeing the shattered pain in his brother’s eyes he couldn’t help but think that not feeling was for the better. Even if he couldn’t feel with his heart, logic still told him that Dean was going through hell. The numbness was easier.
“Not like that,” Ben said. “It’s backwards.”
Mary lay on Bobby’s coffee table while Ben flipped around the diaper and Sam held his breath. Ben quickly returned to guarding the edges of the table like a goalie. With her feet kicking in the air Mary didn’t look like she was going anywhere to Sam, but he’d basically never touched a baby before. He sure didn’t know what to do with one or what it was going to do.
With a wrinkled nose Sam dropped the reeking diaper into the garbage bag. “Dean must avoid this like the plague.”
Bobby came back with two mugs of coffee and shot Sam a surprised look. “We talking about the kid that was wiping your ass before he learned his ABCs?”
“Who?” Sam’s brow creased as he worked on fastening Mary’s clean diaper.
“Dean, your brother. Who the hell do you think was changing your diapers while your daddy was on a bender? That kid was a dad since the day you boys lost your mom.”
The smiling baby reached towards Sam, trying to grab for his long bangs. Sam stayed just out of reach as he stared down at it then looked to Ben. He’d never actually thought about it. Growing up he had depended on Dean for almost everything. He’d just never stopped to consider what everything entailed.
“I’ll be upstairs.” At Ben’s sighed words Sam glanced up to see that Bobby was giving the kid a suggestive look. Ben grumbled as he fished an iPod out of his backpack. “But I’m old enough to hear whatever you’re gonna say.”
“You wanna be rested for when your folks get back, don’t you?” Bobby asked.
Ben gave a reluctant nod and headed up the stairs. Once the bedroom door shut Bobby turned his full attention to Sam. “Don’t just stare at her, pick her up,” Bobby said with a gesture towards Mary.
“You go for it, Bobby.”
There was something about the baby that was starting to hurt. It clenched at his heart and was making it damn hard to hold onto the numbness he needed to stay sane.
“Do you really think your brother just settled down and forgot who he was?” Bobby asked.
Sam didn’t reply as he watched Bobby lovingly lift the baby only to lay her onto Sam’s lap. Uneasily Sam repositioned her, trying to compensate for the fact she wouldn’t hold still.
“Once your brother was sure Lisa was pregnant he came over here cursing himself for letting it happen, but he did it with a ring in his pocket because your brother ain’t never shied away from responsibility.”
Nodding to himself, Sam lifted the baby in question into his arms. “That’s when Dean married Lisa.”
“Took him three months to talk that girl into marrying him. She loves your brother and he loves her, but she knew that baby was the only reason he was proposing.” A smile came to Bobby’s weary face. “’Course you know your brother. He don’t take no for an answer. We all drove back to Lawrence for the ceremony. You know why?”
“It was his home?”
“No, you idjit. ‘Cause it was the last place he saw you alive. Marrying, having that baby, the whole damn while he was only half there because he needed you.”
While Sam was fine with letting the silence hang, Bobby glared expectantly. “I was doing what was best for him.”
“And how do you think the boy that raised you, who based his entire life around you, feels that you couldn’t bother to mention you were alive?”
The baby propped against Sam was busy trying to tear a button off his shirt. Distantly Sam watched her stubborn effort. Even though her pudgy little fingers couldn’t get a real grip on it, she was determined. When it still didn’t happen she decided to change tactics and try to chew it off. She really was Dean’s daughter.
“He was better off away from hunting.”
Bobby leaned over to take Mary’s mouth off the button. After a long drink from his mug, he stared back at Sam. “You think he just left it alone? Up until a few hours ago I was having to talk him down from every stupid thing you could think of. The only thing that stopped him from killing himself trying to get you back was these kids of his.”
A phone in the kitchen started ringing. Bobby growled as he pushed out of his chair. “Is it Dean?” Sam called after him.
“Nah, just someone calling for the FBI. Get Mary on up to bed, will you?”
Before Sam could argue Bobby was locked in another argument over the phone and Sam was left with his niece staring expectantly up at him. She was right to look concerned about his qualifications.
At the top of the stairs Sam all but tripped over Ben. The boy scrambled to his feet, backing away from Sam and shooting him a suspicious look. Sam wasn’t actually surprised that the boy was eavesdropping there. It was something he would have done as a kid.
“You want her?” Sam asked with a nod towards the baby.
“Yeah,” Ben replied hesitantly. He looked half sure it was a trick, but reached up to take Mary from Sam’s arms. Protectively Ben held his little sister to his chest and backed away from Sam.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your dad.” Ben froze and seemed to be deciding whether or not to believe him. “We’re brothers, you know. Sometimes we’re a little rough.”
“So are you my uncle?”
This whole niece and nephew business was a more than Sam could deal with right now. Yesterday he had no one and he was suddenly being dropped into the middle of this family that wasn’t his. Uncle wasn’t a title he was ready to take on.
“I’m your dad’s brother.”
Ben glanced away thoughtfully before looking back at Sam as if he was a little slow. “Like an uncle…”
“I’m just his brother.”
With his eyes narrowed, Ben stared at Sam. “How’s that different than an uncle?”
“Okay, I’m your uncle.” Talk about déjà vu. If Sam’s heart hadn’t been killing him before, it was now. He clenched his jaw as he shook his head at the kid. “And you’re really his son.”
“Dude, I know.”
Ben turned away and headed towards the bedroom. When he did Sam saw the handle of the Colt sticking out from the back of Ben’s jeans. After a moment’s hesitation Sam followed after the kid. He leaned in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Ben lay Mary into the crib.
“How much training do you do?” Sam asked.
Turning back towards him, Ben shrugged. “Like three nights a week. Do you play baseball too?”
“Baseball?” That would’ve gone over real big with Dad. Sam shook his head and pointed towards the gun. “No, I mean shooting.”
The kid’s eyes went wide as he reached back and pulled his shirt over the gun. “Please don’t tell Grandpa Bobby.” Sam only sent Ben a questioning look. “Dean would be totally pissed if he knew I had this and Mom would so freak out,” Ben explained. “I’m not supposed to touch these things.”
“You sure looked like you knew how to use it.”
A flash of pride sparkled in the kid’s eyes before Ben went on to stare at his sneakers. “I was just copying my dad.”
“And he's never showed you how to use a gun?”
Ben shook his head. At first Sam was too appalled to say anything. Of all people Dean should know better than to leave a kid defenseless. Ben was plenty old enough to be handling a weapon. He got that Dean was trying to keep his kids out of hunting, but teaching them self-defense was a pretty basic concept.
“Let me see it.” Sam walked into the room and held his hand out. He gave the gun a quick glance over before handing it back to Ben and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “For starters, it’s empty. I’ll grab you some more bullets when I go downstairs. Let me show you how to load it.”
While Ben hesitated for a second, he then hopped up on the bed beside Sam. Teaching a kid to shoot was one of the last things he felt like doing, but he needed something to distract him. They were sitting around waiting for Dean to run to the rescue when he was barely up to walking.
~~~
If not for the thick layer of storm clouds, the sun might have been beginning to light the sky by the time the Impala’s engine went silent outside the church. Dean had driven past this place a hundred times on his way to work. The building was nice enough with its tall roof and stained glass windows but now it just looked foreboding as hell.
Dean shoved open the heavy door to the old church and tentatively peered inside. It wasn’t the dark emptiness he had expected. The wooden pews were packed full, not with demons, but with families. There were kids and their parents and little old ladies that looked like they were going to go play bridge once the service ended.
It would’ve looked like an early Sunday mass if not for the fact it was Tuesday and there was a creepy-ass look on the face of everyone that had turned to stare at him. Nervously he swallowed, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut with a resounding, resolute thud. It wasn’t like he could turn back now.
Looking down the long aisle, his eyes fell on the man standing at the front altar. With folded hands the man considered Dean before speaking. “You have come to submit yourself to heaven’s rule?”
By his voice Dean recognized the man as Father Reed. The so-called Father wore the standard white alb and full mass getup like there wasn’t anything insanely wrong here. It was only his eyes that gave him away as the evil son of a bitch he really was. The eyes weren’t black, but they were cold enough that they might as well have been.
“Yeah...sure.”
Father Reed motioned for him to step forward. Before complying Dean scanned the crowd. While he didn’t see Lisa, several other faces stood out. The two bastards he had only knocked unconscious at his house sat near the front both sporting darkened bruises that verified their identity.
A few rows back was the boy who had come by selling cookies. Dean stared at him, but unlike the others, the kid wouldn’t meet his eyes. Disorientation was replaced with anger as he took in the curious expressions of most of the children present. It answered his question about what kind of parents would leave their kid out in a storm.
“Let us all join our choir in praise of the Lord and give thanks for the delivery of justice,” Father Reed said. “For it is joy to the just to do judgment, but destruction shall be to the workers of iniquity.”
Everyone rose to their feet and began to sing. Dean raised a disbelieving brow to the joyful choir music, but the people who had his attention were the two that remained silent. With disturbingly warm smiles on their bruised faces the men he recognized stepped into the aisle in front of him. Dean’s muscles coiled but he forced himself to walk towards them. When they reached out for him, he dodged back.
“I’m not handing my ass over until I see my wife.”
“Dean?”
Shoving past the men, Dean found Lisa lying on the front pew. Her usually lively face was pale and pained, her eyes groggy, but she was breathing. Hurriedly his hands pushed up the edge of the blouse they’d dressed her in to see the bandaging on her abdomen.
“They took care of it.” Lisa pulled his hands away from the bandages and held them tightly. “You shouldn’t have come. Dean, they’ll kill you.”
Ignoring her words, Dean squeezed her trembling hands. The singing had stopped and everyone was again sitting. Dean looked over his shoulder to Father Reed. “When we’re done here, you’ll let her go?”
“We have no reason to harm her. She’s only here to ensure that your track record of treachery ceases.”
Dean leaned forward to kiss Lisa before working his hands free from hers. “Tell Ben I’m sorry.”
“What? Dean, no.”
Stepping back from her, Dean held his arms out in surrender. He chocked down the urge to fight back when the two men came up on either side of him. While he expected a few retribution punches, they only slipped off his over shirt and patted him down for weapons. They set the shirt beside Lisa while Dean tried not to hear her protests.
He kept his eyes lowered as they jerked his arms behind his back. Tightly they bound his wrists together before leading him up the steps to join Father Reed at the altar. His breaths were shallow as he tried to focus on taking in the surroundings and finding an out for Lisa.
While his desperate eyes darted around he was met with the smiling faces of those that filled the church. Despite his better judgment, his eyes returned to Lisa’s.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed to her.
She shook her head with defiance in her eyes and stiffly struggled to sit up on the pew. While he wanted to tell her to stay still, Father Reed began to speak before Dean could get the words out.
“I would like all present to take a moment to call to mind the reason we have come together on this glorious day. And it is a glorious day, for today is our day. Scripture tells of the war in heaven in which Michael and his angels fight against the serpent we know as Satan and they are cast out into the earth.”
As Father Reed spoke Dean’s blood pressure steadily rose to the boiling point. The story might be all cute to those gathered in the church but Dean had lived it. He had lost everything in that battle. Because of it Lisa was lying half dead in the Church of the Clinically Insane and his possibly insane little brother was going to be left to raise his children.
“That war is upon us and we are all soldiers in the army alongside Michael and his angels and with him we will march against the troops of Azazel.”
Just hearing that name was enough to set a cold chill over Dean. Slowly he looked over to the priest while those watching from the pews were lost in their ‘amen’ praising. “Are you boys late on all your news?” Dean asked. “That son of a bitch is dead.”
Beneath his glasses, the priest’s eyes darkened as he leaned in towards Dean and spoke a low warning in his ear. “Don’t speak of things which you know nothing of.”
“I should know.” Dean returned the man’s cold glare. “I was the one that killed him.”
“You returned him to hell?” Father Reed’s words took on a tone of genuine interest.
“No, I killed his ass. Permanently. I’m telling you, padre, Yellow Eyes is old news.”
“You were his end?” That priest’s lips upturned like it was funny. He leaned forward to examine Dean so closely that he felt like a bug beneath a microscope. “Azazel took great pleasure in the molding of your brother, but he didn’t think you were even worth disposing of. Pride before the fall.”
Dean furrowed his brow. “How the hell could you know that?”
“The Lord brings to the surface all truths. On your knees.”
“What?”
When Dean didn’t move Father Reed gave a sharp nod to the men on either side of him. His legs were kicked out from beneath him. It was only the tight grips on his arms that stopped him from falling on his face. When his knees thudded against the ground the impact jarred through his body.
“Heaven’s servant kneels in prayer with us,” the priest announced.
Dean shot a look up to the man, his voice low. “I thought I was the heretic.”
The priest kneeled down beside him, mouth to his ear. “You are whatever I command you to be and with cleansing you can be what we need you to be. When I say kneel, you kneel. When I say stand, you stand. No more words.”
Rising, the man stood over him to address the congregation. “This blessed messenger has brought word of Azazel’s fall. Our time is truly now. Let us come together in prayer and preparation for the feast.”
Continue to Chapter 9
Summary: Two years after losing his brother, Dean has settled down and started a new family, but he’s never forgotten the family he left behind and his past has not forgotten him.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, ritual abuse and nudity with children present, but not involved. Distorted uses of biblical quotes/Christian doctrine/ceremony.
Spoilers: Through early Season 6
Word Count: 3,090 for this chapter
Author’s Note: Diverges from canon about two minutes before the end of ‘Swan Song’ (no Sam spying on Dean and Lisa).
Written for spn_reversebang. The beautiful art featured along with this story was illustrated by puguita, whose art prompt and bountiful creativity inspired the story. All her illustrations can be found together at the art master post.
A million worlds of thanks to the truly awesome agent_jl36 and ebony_quill for their scene edits and the tremendously kind durtydeefla82 for taking the time to do a read through and edits for the whole shebang on extremely short notice.
The story master post can be found here.
~~~
Continued from Chapter 7
When Sam had told his brother to go live some normal apple pie life, he hadn’t honestly even known what that meant. He’d just wanted Dean to be safe and he knew Dean wouldn’t be safe hunting alone. Dean wasn’t cut out for it. Solo hunting required a cold disregard that just wasn’t Dean. His brother had always cared too much for his own good.
Sending Dean to start a family had made sense. Kids loved him and Dean loved them. It was supposed to be the easy life, working a nine to five and kicking back with the family on the weekends. Instead of being at peace Dean was the most broken Sam had ever seen him. The more stories he heard from Bobby the more he realized Dean’s life was still filled with fear and worry. It wasn’t peace; it was just more of the same with struggling to hold a steady job and childcare heaped on top of it.
For Sam the last two years had been spent caring about nothing. It was just killing and moving on then killing something else. There was no fear. With no connections he had nothing to lose. That had been his refuge, but now he was holding a baby, his niece, in his arms and he still couldn’t feel a damn thing.
After seeing the shattered pain in his brother’s eyes he couldn’t help but think that not feeling was for the better. Even if he couldn’t feel with his heart, logic still told him that Dean was going through hell. The numbness was easier.
“Not like that,” Ben said. “It’s backwards.”
Mary lay on Bobby’s coffee table while Ben flipped around the diaper and Sam held his breath. Ben quickly returned to guarding the edges of the table like a goalie. With her feet kicking in the air Mary didn’t look like she was going anywhere to Sam, but he’d basically never touched a baby before. He sure didn’t know what to do with one or what it was going to do.
With a wrinkled nose Sam dropped the reeking diaper into the garbage bag. “Dean must avoid this like the plague.”
Bobby came back with two mugs of coffee and shot Sam a surprised look. “We talking about the kid that was wiping your ass before he learned his ABCs?”
“Who?” Sam’s brow creased as he worked on fastening Mary’s clean diaper.
“Dean, your brother. Who the hell do you think was changing your diapers while your daddy was on a bender? That kid was a dad since the day you boys lost your mom.”
The smiling baby reached towards Sam, trying to grab for his long bangs. Sam stayed just out of reach as he stared down at it then looked to Ben. He’d never actually thought about it. Growing up he had depended on Dean for almost everything. He’d just never stopped to consider what everything entailed.
“I’ll be upstairs.” At Ben’s sighed words Sam glanced up to see that Bobby was giving the kid a suggestive look. Ben grumbled as he fished an iPod out of his backpack. “But I’m old enough to hear whatever you’re gonna say.”
“You wanna be rested for when your folks get back, don’t you?” Bobby asked.
Ben gave a reluctant nod and headed up the stairs. Once the bedroom door shut Bobby turned his full attention to Sam. “Don’t just stare at her, pick her up,” Bobby said with a gesture towards Mary.
“You go for it, Bobby.”
There was something about the baby that was starting to hurt. It clenched at his heart and was making it damn hard to hold onto the numbness he needed to stay sane.
“Do you really think your brother just settled down and forgot who he was?” Bobby asked.
Sam didn’t reply as he watched Bobby lovingly lift the baby only to lay her onto Sam’s lap. Uneasily Sam repositioned her, trying to compensate for the fact she wouldn’t hold still.
“Once your brother was sure Lisa was pregnant he came over here cursing himself for letting it happen, but he did it with a ring in his pocket because your brother ain’t never shied away from responsibility.”
Nodding to himself, Sam lifted the baby in question into his arms. “That’s when Dean married Lisa.”
“Took him three months to talk that girl into marrying him. She loves your brother and he loves her, but she knew that baby was the only reason he was proposing.” A smile came to Bobby’s weary face. “’Course you know your brother. He don’t take no for an answer. We all drove back to Lawrence for the ceremony. You know why?”
“It was his home?”
“No, you idjit. ‘Cause it was the last place he saw you alive. Marrying, having that baby, the whole damn while he was only half there because he needed you.”
While Sam was fine with letting the silence hang, Bobby glared expectantly. “I was doing what was best for him.”
“And how do you think the boy that raised you, who based his entire life around you, feels that you couldn’t bother to mention you were alive?”
The baby propped against Sam was busy trying to tear a button off his shirt. Distantly Sam watched her stubborn effort. Even though her pudgy little fingers couldn’t get a real grip on it, she was determined. When it still didn’t happen she decided to change tactics and try to chew it off. She really was Dean’s daughter.
“He was better off away from hunting.”
Bobby leaned over to take Mary’s mouth off the button. After a long drink from his mug, he stared back at Sam. “You think he just left it alone? Up until a few hours ago I was having to talk him down from every stupid thing you could think of. The only thing that stopped him from killing himself trying to get you back was these kids of his.”
A phone in the kitchen started ringing. Bobby growled as he pushed out of his chair. “Is it Dean?” Sam called after him.
“Nah, just someone calling for the FBI. Get Mary on up to bed, will you?”
Before Sam could argue Bobby was locked in another argument over the phone and Sam was left with his niece staring expectantly up at him. She was right to look concerned about his qualifications.
At the top of the stairs Sam all but tripped over Ben. The boy scrambled to his feet, backing away from Sam and shooting him a suspicious look. Sam wasn’t actually surprised that the boy was eavesdropping there. It was something he would have done as a kid.
“You want her?” Sam asked with a nod towards the baby.
“Yeah,” Ben replied hesitantly. He looked half sure it was a trick, but reached up to take Mary from Sam’s arms. Protectively Ben held his little sister to his chest and backed away from Sam.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your dad.” Ben froze and seemed to be deciding whether or not to believe him. “We’re brothers, you know. Sometimes we’re a little rough.”
“So are you my uncle?”
This whole niece and nephew business was a more than Sam could deal with right now. Yesterday he had no one and he was suddenly being dropped into the middle of this family that wasn’t his. Uncle wasn’t a title he was ready to take on.
“I’m your dad’s brother.”
Ben glanced away thoughtfully before looking back at Sam as if he was a little slow. “Like an uncle…”
“I’m just his brother.”
With his eyes narrowed, Ben stared at Sam. “How’s that different than an uncle?”
“Okay, I’m your uncle.” Talk about déjà vu. If Sam’s heart hadn’t been killing him before, it was now. He clenched his jaw as he shook his head at the kid. “And you’re really his son.”
“Dude, I know.”
Ben turned away and headed towards the bedroom. When he did Sam saw the handle of the Colt sticking out from the back of Ben’s jeans. After a moment’s hesitation Sam followed after the kid. He leaned in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Ben lay Mary into the crib.
“How much training do you do?” Sam asked.
Turning back towards him, Ben shrugged. “Like three nights a week. Do you play baseball too?”
“Baseball?” That would’ve gone over real big with Dad. Sam shook his head and pointed towards the gun. “No, I mean shooting.”
The kid’s eyes went wide as he reached back and pulled his shirt over the gun. “Please don’t tell Grandpa Bobby.” Sam only sent Ben a questioning look. “Dean would be totally pissed if he knew I had this and Mom would so freak out,” Ben explained. “I’m not supposed to touch these things.”
“You sure looked like you knew how to use it.”
A flash of pride sparkled in the kid’s eyes before Ben went on to stare at his sneakers. “I was just copying my dad.”
“And he's never showed you how to use a gun?”
Ben shook his head. At first Sam was too appalled to say anything. Of all people Dean should know better than to leave a kid defenseless. Ben was plenty old enough to be handling a weapon. He got that Dean was trying to keep his kids out of hunting, but teaching them self-defense was a pretty basic concept.
“Let me see it.” Sam walked into the room and held his hand out. He gave the gun a quick glance over before handing it back to Ben and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “For starters, it’s empty. I’ll grab you some more bullets when I go downstairs. Let me show you how to load it.”
While Ben hesitated for a second, he then hopped up on the bed beside Sam. Teaching a kid to shoot was one of the last things he felt like doing, but he needed something to distract him. They were sitting around waiting for Dean to run to the rescue when he was barely up to walking.
~~~
If not for the thick layer of storm clouds, the sun might have been beginning to light the sky by the time the Impala’s engine went silent outside the church. Dean had driven past this place a hundred times on his way to work. The building was nice enough with its tall roof and stained glass windows but now it just looked foreboding as hell.
Dean shoved open the heavy door to the old church and tentatively peered inside. It wasn’t the dark emptiness he had expected. The wooden pews were packed full, not with demons, but with families. There were kids and their parents and little old ladies that looked like they were going to go play bridge once the service ended.
It would’ve looked like an early Sunday mass if not for the fact it was Tuesday and there was a creepy-ass look on the face of everyone that had turned to stare at him. Nervously he swallowed, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut with a resounding, resolute thud. It wasn’t like he could turn back now.
Looking down the long aisle, his eyes fell on the man standing at the front altar. With folded hands the man considered Dean before speaking. “You have come to submit yourself to heaven’s rule?”
By his voice Dean recognized the man as Father Reed. The so-called Father wore the standard white alb and full mass getup like there wasn’t anything insanely wrong here. It was only his eyes that gave him away as the evil son of a bitch he really was. The eyes weren’t black, but they were cold enough that they might as well have been.
“Yeah...sure.”
Father Reed motioned for him to step forward. Before complying Dean scanned the crowd. While he didn’t see Lisa, several other faces stood out. The two bastards he had only knocked unconscious at his house sat near the front both sporting darkened bruises that verified their identity.
A few rows back was the boy who had come by selling cookies. Dean stared at him, but unlike the others, the kid wouldn’t meet his eyes. Disorientation was replaced with anger as he took in the curious expressions of most of the children present. It answered his question about what kind of parents would leave their kid out in a storm.
“Let us all join our choir in praise of the Lord and give thanks for the delivery of justice,” Father Reed said. “For it is joy to the just to do judgment, but destruction shall be to the workers of iniquity.”
Everyone rose to their feet and began to sing. Dean raised a disbelieving brow to the joyful choir music, but the people who had his attention were the two that remained silent. With disturbingly warm smiles on their bruised faces the men he recognized stepped into the aisle in front of him. Dean’s muscles coiled but he forced himself to walk towards them. When they reached out for him, he dodged back.
“I’m not handing my ass over until I see my wife.”
“Dean?”
Shoving past the men, Dean found Lisa lying on the front pew. Her usually lively face was pale and pained, her eyes groggy, but she was breathing. Hurriedly his hands pushed up the edge of the blouse they’d dressed her in to see the bandaging on her abdomen.
“They took care of it.” Lisa pulled his hands away from the bandages and held them tightly. “You shouldn’t have come. Dean, they’ll kill you.”
Ignoring her words, Dean squeezed her trembling hands. The singing had stopped and everyone was again sitting. Dean looked over his shoulder to Father Reed. “When we’re done here, you’ll let her go?”
“We have no reason to harm her. She’s only here to ensure that your track record of treachery ceases.”
Dean leaned forward to kiss Lisa before working his hands free from hers. “Tell Ben I’m sorry.”
“What? Dean, no.”
Stepping back from her, Dean held his arms out in surrender. He chocked down the urge to fight back when the two men came up on either side of him. While he expected a few retribution punches, they only slipped off his over shirt and patted him down for weapons. They set the shirt beside Lisa while Dean tried not to hear her protests.
He kept his eyes lowered as they jerked his arms behind his back. Tightly they bound his wrists together before leading him up the steps to join Father Reed at the altar. His breaths were shallow as he tried to focus on taking in the surroundings and finding an out for Lisa.
While his desperate eyes darted around he was met with the smiling faces of those that filled the church. Despite his better judgment, his eyes returned to Lisa’s.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed to her.
She shook her head with defiance in her eyes and stiffly struggled to sit up on the pew. While he wanted to tell her to stay still, Father Reed began to speak before Dean could get the words out.
“I would like all present to take a moment to call to mind the reason we have come together on this glorious day. And it is a glorious day, for today is our day. Scripture tells of the war in heaven in which Michael and his angels fight against the serpent we know as Satan and they are cast out into the earth.”
As Father Reed spoke Dean’s blood pressure steadily rose to the boiling point. The story might be all cute to those gathered in the church but Dean had lived it. He had lost everything in that battle. Because of it Lisa was lying half dead in the Church of the Clinically Insane and his possibly insane little brother was going to be left to raise his children.
“That war is upon us and we are all soldiers in the army alongside Michael and his angels and with him we will march against the troops of Azazel.”
Just hearing that name was enough to set a cold chill over Dean. Slowly he looked over to the priest while those watching from the pews were lost in their ‘amen’ praising. “Are you boys late on all your news?” Dean asked. “That son of a bitch is dead.”
Beneath his glasses, the priest’s eyes darkened as he leaned in towards Dean and spoke a low warning in his ear. “Don’t speak of things which you know nothing of.”
“I should know.” Dean returned the man’s cold glare. “I was the one that killed him.”
“You returned him to hell?” Father Reed’s words took on a tone of genuine interest.
“No, I killed his ass. Permanently. I’m telling you, padre, Yellow Eyes is old news.”
“You were his end?” That priest’s lips upturned like it was funny. He leaned forward to examine Dean so closely that he felt like a bug beneath a microscope. “Azazel took great pleasure in the molding of your brother, but he didn’t think you were even worth disposing of. Pride before the fall.”
Dean furrowed his brow. “How the hell could you know that?”
“The Lord brings to the surface all truths. On your knees.”
“What?”
When Dean didn’t move Father Reed gave a sharp nod to the men on either side of him. His legs were kicked out from beneath him. It was only the tight grips on his arms that stopped him from falling on his face. When his knees thudded against the ground the impact jarred through his body.
“Heaven’s servant kneels in prayer with us,” the priest announced.
Dean shot a look up to the man, his voice low. “I thought I was the heretic.”
The priest kneeled down beside him, mouth to his ear. “You are whatever I command you to be and with cleansing you can be what we need you to be. When I say kneel, you kneel. When I say stand, you stand. No more words.”
Rising, the man stood over him to address the congregation. “This blessed messenger has brought word of Azazel’s fall. Our time is truly now. Let us come together in prayer and preparation for the feast.”
Continue to Chapter 9