Golem -- Ch. 7/9, Complete, Gen, H/C, Angst, Hurt!Dean
Fanfic: Golem
Author: sandymg
Beta: borgmama1of5 . She rocks. All mistakes are mine
Summary: Dad's in Minnesota keeping secrets, Dean's picked up a solo hunt, and Sam ... where is Sam?
Spoilers: Through late Season 4. References Scarecrow S01x11 and Jump the Shark S04x19
Wordcount: 26,000 in 9 chapters - Complete
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt!Dean, Preseries
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, a creature
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke - who'd best treat them well
A/N: Thanks to zatnikatel for ongoing inspiration
Chapter [ 1], [ 2], [ 3], [ 4], [ 5], [ 6]
Chapter 7
The doctor looked pleased and Dean shuddered inside wondering if this meant the worst was ruled in or out. From a clinical perspective, wouldn’t it be just as good for the doctor to know either way?
“Your tests all came out clean. The blood work shows nothing abnormal and the scans all were negative.”
John interrupted, “But doc, the headaches, memory loss?”
The doctor’s brow moved in slightly, eyes squinting. “Yes. I understand that your son has physical symptoms but from what we can tell … it appears the problem is psychological.”
Dean stared into the other man’s soft brown eyes. Meant he was losing his mind - literally. A high-pitched chuckle escaped and both men turned to him oddly.
“Sorry, “ he mumbled. “So, what happens next?”
“I can prescribe some medication. An antidepressant and something to help with anxiety. Have you been under much stress lately?”
Dean avoided looking at his father. “Just life,” he answered. “You know.” Except the doctor couldn’t possibly know. And given the huge holes in Dean’s memory - he barely did himself. Just like the last time, things were sharper here in the doctor’s office. The world was in focus. Maybe he needed to bottle up that antiseptic scent and spray it all over the house? Again he fought back a laugh. Felt like he was hanging on without a net. Antidepressants? Right, he’d be mighty helpful in a hunt all drugged up. Mighta been better off with the tumor. At least maybe they coulda cut it out.
They stopped at a drugstore and then headed for home. Dad asked if he was hungry and they pulled into the local diner. Walking through the parking lot Dean absently kicked up a little more of that red dirt that seemed to be everywhere and stopped a moment looking down. His father halted, followed Dean’s eyes but quickly raised them to study Dean.
“You okay?”
Dean blinked and shook his head. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s eat.”
Inside they settled into a booth and Dean opened his menu reading it slowly. So many choices, made his already spinning head twirl even harder.
John looked at him again. “What?” he asked his father.
“Never saw you … aren’t you going to get your usual?”
A waitress approached them and gave Dean a huge, warm smile. Friendly. He shot her a weak grin back and then returned his attention to the menu. She pulled out her pad and looked at his father with a puzzled glance. “The usual?” she asked.
John answered, “For me, yeah. Dean’s … um … still deciding.”
She laughed, “No bacon cheeseburger? What are you, on a diet?”
He looked up at her. Her smile glowed. Did he like bacon cheeseburgers? How did she know this?
Her eyes narrowed as they met his. “Everything okay, Dean?” she asked.
“Yeah. I … you know, how ‘bout just a coffee, hon.”
She walked away quickly, looking almost … hurt, which made absolutely no sense as he’d never seen her before in his life. Dad was studying him again.
“That was Tricia, Dean.”
“Who?”
“The waitress. You used to talk to her all the time. We’ve been coming here every day for the past six weeks and you and her have become … friends.”
“Don’t think so. I’d remember her,” he said with a lopsided grin.
His father didn’t say anything.
“Hey Dad,” he continued. “Where’s Sam?”
Dad shut his eyes a moment. He thought the old man wouldn’t answer but then he met his eyes again and said very slowly, “Sam’s in school. Stanford.”
Tricia brought them two coffees and a burger for his father. As soon as she was gone Dean exclaimed, “What? No shit? Stanford. California? Are we … is this California?”
“No Dean, we’re in Iowa. Waterloo, near Cedar Falls.”
But that meant … “We’re not together?”
John took a long sip of his coffee. “No, we’re not.”
Dean looked down. “Oh.” He picked up his own mug and took a swallow. “Are we on a …” He knew he’d been speaking, sensed he was about to say more but there was nothing there … like the thoughts were vanishing faster than he could get them out. He shut his eyes a moment as the lights of the diner seemed suddenly very bright. A stab of pain shot through his head. Hot, white, razor-sharp … took his breath away and he slumped in the booth.
“Headache again?” the man opposite him asked.
Dean jumped straight. Who the hell was this? He looked around. When … how … did he get here? “I … excuse me, but do I know you?”
The man looked suddenly alarmed. Pulled out his wallet and threw money on the table. “Dean. C’mon, I think we should head home.”
“I don’t know … how do you know my name?”
The man murmured, oh god, under his breath. “Dean, it’s Dad. C’mon son, let’s get you home. Start you on the medicine. Things will get clearer soon.”
Dad? How could he not know this? Hot tears pooled along his bottom lid as he struggled to remember. “Sam?”
“Sam is your brother.”
Frustration spiked and he fisted away the stray tear. “I know that. Where is he?”
The man guided him out by the elbow, he wrenched his arm free and followed him out silently. “Have you done something to my brother?” he accused as soon as they were outside.
“Dean, please, it’s Dad … Sam is fine, he’s away at school. Let’s go home, okay?”
Dean approached the Impala, touched it gently. He knew this. Was safe. His breathing slowed as he settled into the familiar seat. Even the scent was soothing. Gasoline and leather and … he peered over his shoulder into the back seat … food wrappers. “Gotta clean ‘er up.”
His father peered over at him. “Dean … you feeling better? Do you … do you know me, son?”
Dean stared at his father. “Know you? What kinda question is that?” John exhaled noticeably. Seemed relieved. “Dad? I don’t remember leaving the diner. Did I … black out?”
“No. You just got confused is all. But we’ll get you home and start you on your medication and it’s all going to be alright.”
* * *
Back home Dean seemed fine again. He took the small blue pill and flipped stations on the TV. Didn’t ask about Sam and John figured even just this much was progress. John felt like he’d started breathing again when the doctor told them Dean was fine. Only now he wondered if somebody’d made a mistake. Wasn’t normal to space out the way Dean was doing. And back in the diner, his son had looked at him like he was a stranger. God, that wasn’t anything he wanted to see again.
Since Dean was quiet he stepped outside a moment and quietly dialed his youngest son’s number. A soft voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Adam. It’s Dad.”
Quiet. Then, “Why’d you leave so quick? We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
He’d forgotten what that teenage whine sounded like. “I know. I’m sorry. It was an emergency, had no choice. Make it up to you next time, okay kiddo?”
John visualized Adam’s mouth pursing as he worked through his annoyance. He had Sam’s whine but Dean’s forgiving temperament. “Sure. Everything okay now?”
John thought about Dean’s empty stare I don’t know you. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I have to go, but I’ll call again in a few days and try to get out to see you as soon as I can. Be a good boy and tell Kate I called, would you?”
“Sure. Bye Dad.”
Back inside he removed the remote from Dean’s grip and threw a blanket over him. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Maybe that was good, needed rest, hoped it didn’t mean that new drug was strong enough to knock Dean out. Medicines that fooled with your brain. He didn’t trust any of that.
He poured himself a drink and opened his laptop thinking that continuing with his relentless research on the demon that destroyed his family would actually help calm him. He’d been correlating dozens of weather patterns from all over the country and he was onto something. He knew this. Just didn’t know exactly what yet.
* * *
The creature faced off with Dean for possession of the boy. He knew it would come down to this, had to. Only one of them could keep him. He was stronger now. Fully formed. Legs worked, feet worked, he flexed his fingers - each one moving up and then curling into a fist. He’d pulled many fights out of Dean already. Knew how to punch, how to dodge, kick … dirty fighting Dean called it in his own mind. Street cred. He didn’t exactly know what all this meant only that it would come in handy someday.
Sam was buried deep, was among the furthest memories there were. A woman, Mommy, was touching Dean, her huge belly jutting out urging him to touch it gently. Dean jumped back suddenly when something moved beneath his little fingers. There was a sweet laughter. That’s your little brother or sister. Dean’s eyes opened huge as he placed his hand tentatively back onto her stomach smiling hugely when it happened again and again.
Dean’s body shook with strain while trying to keep that one, but the creature was stronger and he whisked it away quick, ran with it, and absorbed it. Once inside, the memory made the creature tremble as if he were the one kicking to be born. And it was true, wasn’t it, this was his birth? From the red clay of his faraway home to the shores of this strange land to this pretty man who he would become. Then he would have to kill the father because his Master had said this was necessary. The creature didn’t understand why this was so, but if Master ordered it and then there was nothing the creature could do but obey. But after that, maybe he’d be able to escape. Leave the Master and find the boy, fill the empty place. And then be with the girls and no one would ever scream again.
They were in a small room. Beige carpeting, beige walls, beige bed. Baby Sammy was holding on to a table, sidling along sideways and Dean moved over to the other side of the room and kneeled down and put his arms out and said C’mon Sammy … walk here, you can do it, big boy. Sammy turned to the voice and said Dn and laughed and took off in this run, stumble, fall right into his big brother and they both tumbled backward and giggled for hours. The creature wanted this giggling, it tickled his new throat and made him feel full but the shadow in the corner glared at him.
“Get away from him, you creep!” The creature rose and turned to the shadow. Dean. Not small. Harsh. In the past, it scared him, made him want to run, to hide. But the creature was stronger now and he needed the boy. Could never be Himself without it so he faced his fear, swallowed it and approached the shadow, standing tall.
“Mine,” he said through his newly formed lips. So full and pretty. The girls all said so, all told Dean how fun they were to kiss. The creature tried this, tried to kiss, and she’d screamed and screamed until he had to hold her tight and make her stop. She landed in a heap at his feet and he ran away and hoped his Master never found out because this was trouble and it was something the Master said should never happen.
The shadow rose and pierced him with his green eyes and said, “You can’t have Sam.”
He told the man. “I will get him. He will belong to me and there will be no more empty. He will be my brother.”
“I won't let you ever touch him, you sonovabitch! You stay away from Sam!”
Implacably, he stated the truth. “I will find him and keep him and you will not stop me.”
Suddenly the boy was there, looking up at them with hair partially hiding his eyes. He stood in front of Dean - fiercely protective. The creature stirred, he had not expected to battle both of them. No matter, once he became Himself the boy would come to him. Would be a brother. Would be everything.
Patience exhausted the creature hardened, pulled with a vengeance. Invisible tendrils sliced like razors, swift, precise. His speed was incredible now, too quick for Dean to outrun. Still, the man struggled, agony searing him as one by one the creature snipped, diced, bisected. They hugged each other … Dean and young Sammy. Tears trailed as Dean gasped for breath between huge sobs. No, please … Sammy. Crying, broken … Dean fought with all he had, grabbed, held, clutched … between shattered breaths he begged for mercy. A new meaningless word for the creature to twist through his fresh full lips.
* * *
“Dean … Dean, c’mon son, wake up. Snap out of it. It’s just a dream … Dean!”
John shook his son to no avail. He was thrashing, vibrating madly, hand on his forehead, fingers bunching and uncurling as if he were trying to get inside and pull out his own brain. He screamed, raw, guttural, “No … Sammy … NO …”
John couldn’t imagine what nightmare had entangled his eldest this deeply. They’d had some tough scrapes. Close calls. Was he reliving a time when Sam’d been in danger? The boys went on hunts alone … was there something John didn’t know about? Something that had threatened Sam and the memory of it was now driving Dean … No. He wasn’t even going to think the word. Dean would be fine.
Suddenly, Dean calmed down, drew breath in deeply as if someone had been choking him but ceased. Slowly he opened his eyes. “Dad …?”
John let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, I’m here. Right here. You okay?”
“Yeah … I guess. Feel confused. Where are we?”
“We’re in Iowa,” Then quickly he tacked on, “Sam’s in California, away at school.”
“Who?”
John’s heart went cold. “Sammy … your brother.”
Dean’s gaze was blank, dead. “I have a brother?”
What was wrong with his son? John’s horror was interrupted by the ring of his phone. Reaching for it was easier than facing his son’s empty eyes a second longer. He glanced at the familiar number.
“Bobby,” he answered, amazed he still had the ability to form words.
“John. How’s Dean? Any better?”
Earlier, Bobby had been relieved to hear the tests came out okay. John knew how the older hunter felt about the boys. He hesitated, maybe a drop too long. “He’s the same. Keeps forgetting things.”
He heard breathing on the other end before Bobby spoke again. “John, I thought about what you told me. The client that you didn’t remember that sent Dean on that last job. The haunting.”
John went on alert. “What about it?”
“Said the name was Barrister?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I don’t know any Barrister. But remember ten years ago in Skokie … we hung out at a hunter’s bar named Barrister’s? Met that hunter Goldman? Smart. Knew all that Jewish lore and mysticism. I left shortly after we met him. But you stayed on longer in Illinois, right?”
The blood drained from John’s face. He shuddered and almost dropped the phone. The dirt. Was red. And Dean … oh my god.
“John? You there?”
“B … Bobby … I saw clay, red clay … Could a golem cause Dean’s symptoms?”
“A golem?! Here? You’d have the get the clay from the Middle East … holy land … Not impossible … been some cases in the states but very few. Why would - John, somethin’ happen between you and Goldman?”
Yeah, something had happened. Job’d gone south. And Goldman’s son … John felt he might vomit. Didn’t know what to tell his friend. “We were on a hunt. Shapeshifter. Took on the shape of Goldman’s son … I … was an accident. I thought it was the ‘shifter. But …”
“Jesus. John, how come you never told me this?”
John was silent. What was there to tell? He’d fucked up. And now … now Goldman was getting his revenge … on Dean. This was all his fault. The questions Dean asked over and over. It was sucking his memories. Dean screaming his brother’s name in panic. Thinking someone was after Sammy. Nothing would terrorize Dean more than that.
Bobby’s voice broke through his inner tirade. “John if this is a golem, then you have to get Dean out of there fast. As far away as possible.”
John thought about this. Goldman was smart. Good tracker. Where would they go? And how could Dean live like this? “Bobby. How do we kill it?”
“Well … only way I know of means getting mighty close. The golem will have a word inscribed on its forehead … emet … means truth. You might not see it but it’ll be there. You have to cut out the first letter, then the word’s meaning changes to death. But John, how would you find it?”
“Not sure, but every time it’s near Dean … well, I can tell.”
Bobby snorted, “This is nuts! You gotta get Dean away from there. It’s been at Dean for days already. Sapping his memories. More, everything he knows. Getting stronger every time. Soon there won’t be any Dean, only it.”
John steeled himself. Fought the pain of the other man’s words. He had to end this. Dean had lost more than he could bear if he knew. It had been days, long enough for it to be permanent unless the golem was killed. Dean without Sammy? It just … he couldn’t leave his son this way.
“Bobby. I … have to go. I’ll call you before I … I promise.”
He hung up. Looked toward Dean. Got a vapid gaze in return. I’m sorry … so sorry, Dean. I’ll make it right. Get you back Sam. I promise.
Go to chapter 8
Author: sandymg
Beta: borgmama1of5 . She rocks. All mistakes are mine
Summary: Dad's in Minnesota keeping secrets, Dean's picked up a solo hunt, and Sam ... where is Sam?
Spoilers: Through late Season 4. References Scarecrow S01x11 and Jump the Shark S04x19
Wordcount: 26,000 in 9 chapters - Complete
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt!Dean, Preseries
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, a creature
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke - who'd best treat them well
A/N: Thanks to zatnikatel for ongoing inspiration
Chapter [ 1], [ 2], [ 3], [ 4], [ 5], [ 6]
Chapter 7
The doctor looked pleased and Dean shuddered inside wondering if this meant the worst was ruled in or out. From a clinical perspective, wouldn’t it be just as good for the doctor to know either way?
“Your tests all came out clean. The blood work shows nothing abnormal and the scans all were negative.”
John interrupted, “But doc, the headaches, memory loss?”
The doctor’s brow moved in slightly, eyes squinting. “Yes. I understand that your son has physical symptoms but from what we can tell … it appears the problem is psychological.”
Dean stared into the other man’s soft brown eyes. Meant he was losing his mind - literally. A high-pitched chuckle escaped and both men turned to him oddly.
“Sorry, “ he mumbled. “So, what happens next?”
“I can prescribe some medication. An antidepressant and something to help with anxiety. Have you been under much stress lately?”
Dean avoided looking at his father. “Just life,” he answered. “You know.” Except the doctor couldn’t possibly know. And given the huge holes in Dean’s memory - he barely did himself. Just like the last time, things were sharper here in the doctor’s office. The world was in focus. Maybe he needed to bottle up that antiseptic scent and spray it all over the house? Again he fought back a laugh. Felt like he was hanging on without a net. Antidepressants? Right, he’d be mighty helpful in a hunt all drugged up. Mighta been better off with the tumor. At least maybe they coulda cut it out.
They stopped at a drugstore and then headed for home. Dad asked if he was hungry and they pulled into the local diner. Walking through the parking lot Dean absently kicked up a little more of that red dirt that seemed to be everywhere and stopped a moment looking down. His father halted, followed Dean’s eyes but quickly raised them to study Dean.
“You okay?”
Dean blinked and shook his head. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s eat.”
Inside they settled into a booth and Dean opened his menu reading it slowly. So many choices, made his already spinning head twirl even harder.
John looked at him again. “What?” he asked his father.
“Never saw you … aren’t you going to get your usual?”
A waitress approached them and gave Dean a huge, warm smile. Friendly. He shot her a weak grin back and then returned his attention to the menu. She pulled out her pad and looked at his father with a puzzled glance. “The usual?” she asked.
John answered, “For me, yeah. Dean’s … um … still deciding.”
She laughed, “No bacon cheeseburger? What are you, on a diet?”
He looked up at her. Her smile glowed. Did he like bacon cheeseburgers? How did she know this?
Her eyes narrowed as they met his. “Everything okay, Dean?” she asked.
“Yeah. I … you know, how ‘bout just a coffee, hon.”
She walked away quickly, looking almost … hurt, which made absolutely no sense as he’d never seen her before in his life. Dad was studying him again.
“That was Tricia, Dean.”
“Who?”
“The waitress. You used to talk to her all the time. We’ve been coming here every day for the past six weeks and you and her have become … friends.”
“Don’t think so. I’d remember her,” he said with a lopsided grin.
His father didn’t say anything.
“Hey Dad,” he continued. “Where’s Sam?”
Dad shut his eyes a moment. He thought the old man wouldn’t answer but then he met his eyes again and said very slowly, “Sam’s in school. Stanford.”
Tricia brought them two coffees and a burger for his father. As soon as she was gone Dean exclaimed, “What? No shit? Stanford. California? Are we … is this California?”
“No Dean, we’re in Iowa. Waterloo, near Cedar Falls.”
But that meant … “We’re not together?”
John took a long sip of his coffee. “No, we’re not.”
Dean looked down. “Oh.” He picked up his own mug and took a swallow. “Are we on a …” He knew he’d been speaking, sensed he was about to say more but there was nothing there … like the thoughts were vanishing faster than he could get them out. He shut his eyes a moment as the lights of the diner seemed suddenly very bright. A stab of pain shot through his head. Hot, white, razor-sharp … took his breath away and he slumped in the booth.
“Headache again?” the man opposite him asked.
Dean jumped straight. Who the hell was this? He looked around. When … how … did he get here? “I … excuse me, but do I know you?”
The man looked suddenly alarmed. Pulled out his wallet and threw money on the table. “Dean. C’mon, I think we should head home.”
“I don’t know … how do you know my name?”
The man murmured, oh god, under his breath. “Dean, it’s Dad. C’mon son, let’s get you home. Start you on the medicine. Things will get clearer soon.”
Dad? How could he not know this? Hot tears pooled along his bottom lid as he struggled to remember. “Sam?”
“Sam is your brother.”
Frustration spiked and he fisted away the stray tear. “I know that. Where is he?”
The man guided him out by the elbow, he wrenched his arm free and followed him out silently. “Have you done something to my brother?” he accused as soon as they were outside.
“Dean, please, it’s Dad … Sam is fine, he’s away at school. Let’s go home, okay?”
Dean approached the Impala, touched it gently. He knew this. Was safe. His breathing slowed as he settled into the familiar seat. Even the scent was soothing. Gasoline and leather and … he peered over his shoulder into the back seat … food wrappers. “Gotta clean ‘er up.”
His father peered over at him. “Dean … you feeling better? Do you … do you know me, son?”
Dean stared at his father. “Know you? What kinda question is that?” John exhaled noticeably. Seemed relieved. “Dad? I don’t remember leaving the diner. Did I … black out?”
“No. You just got confused is all. But we’ll get you home and start you on your medication and it’s all going to be alright.”
* * *
Back home Dean seemed fine again. He took the small blue pill and flipped stations on the TV. Didn’t ask about Sam and John figured even just this much was progress. John felt like he’d started breathing again when the doctor told them Dean was fine. Only now he wondered if somebody’d made a mistake. Wasn’t normal to space out the way Dean was doing. And back in the diner, his son had looked at him like he was a stranger. God, that wasn’t anything he wanted to see again.
Since Dean was quiet he stepped outside a moment and quietly dialed his youngest son’s number. A soft voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Adam. It’s Dad.”
Quiet. Then, “Why’d you leave so quick? We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
He’d forgotten what that teenage whine sounded like. “I know. I’m sorry. It was an emergency, had no choice. Make it up to you next time, okay kiddo?”
John visualized Adam’s mouth pursing as he worked through his annoyance. He had Sam’s whine but Dean’s forgiving temperament. “Sure. Everything okay now?”
John thought about Dean’s empty stare I don’t know you. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I have to go, but I’ll call again in a few days and try to get out to see you as soon as I can. Be a good boy and tell Kate I called, would you?”
“Sure. Bye Dad.”
Back inside he removed the remote from Dean’s grip and threw a blanket over him. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Maybe that was good, needed rest, hoped it didn’t mean that new drug was strong enough to knock Dean out. Medicines that fooled with your brain. He didn’t trust any of that.
He poured himself a drink and opened his laptop thinking that continuing with his relentless research on the demon that destroyed his family would actually help calm him. He’d been correlating dozens of weather patterns from all over the country and he was onto something. He knew this. Just didn’t know exactly what yet.
* * *
The creature faced off with Dean for possession of the boy. He knew it would come down to this, had to. Only one of them could keep him. He was stronger now. Fully formed. Legs worked, feet worked, he flexed his fingers - each one moving up and then curling into a fist. He’d pulled many fights out of Dean already. Knew how to punch, how to dodge, kick … dirty fighting Dean called it in his own mind. Street cred. He didn’t exactly know what all this meant only that it would come in handy someday.
Sam was buried deep, was among the furthest memories there were. A woman, Mommy, was touching Dean, her huge belly jutting out urging him to touch it gently. Dean jumped back suddenly when something moved beneath his little fingers. There was a sweet laughter. That’s your little brother or sister. Dean’s eyes opened huge as he placed his hand tentatively back onto her stomach smiling hugely when it happened again and again.
Dean’s body shook with strain while trying to keep that one, but the creature was stronger and he whisked it away quick, ran with it, and absorbed it. Once inside, the memory made the creature tremble as if he were the one kicking to be born. And it was true, wasn’t it, this was his birth? From the red clay of his faraway home to the shores of this strange land to this pretty man who he would become. Then he would have to kill the father because his Master had said this was necessary. The creature didn’t understand why this was so, but if Master ordered it and then there was nothing the creature could do but obey. But after that, maybe he’d be able to escape. Leave the Master and find the boy, fill the empty place. And then be with the girls and no one would ever scream again.
They were in a small room. Beige carpeting, beige walls, beige bed. Baby Sammy was holding on to a table, sidling along sideways and Dean moved over to the other side of the room and kneeled down and put his arms out and said C’mon Sammy … walk here, you can do it, big boy. Sammy turned to the voice and said Dn and laughed and took off in this run, stumble, fall right into his big brother and they both tumbled backward and giggled for hours. The creature wanted this giggling, it tickled his new throat and made him feel full but the shadow in the corner glared at him.
“Get away from him, you creep!” The creature rose and turned to the shadow. Dean. Not small. Harsh. In the past, it scared him, made him want to run, to hide. But the creature was stronger now and he needed the boy. Could never be Himself without it so he faced his fear, swallowed it and approached the shadow, standing tall.
“Mine,” he said through his newly formed lips. So full and pretty. The girls all said so, all told Dean how fun they were to kiss. The creature tried this, tried to kiss, and she’d screamed and screamed until he had to hold her tight and make her stop. She landed in a heap at his feet and he ran away and hoped his Master never found out because this was trouble and it was something the Master said should never happen.
The shadow rose and pierced him with his green eyes and said, “You can’t have Sam.”
He told the man. “I will get him. He will belong to me and there will be no more empty. He will be my brother.”
“I won't let you ever touch him, you sonovabitch! You stay away from Sam!”
Implacably, he stated the truth. “I will find him and keep him and you will not stop me.”
Suddenly the boy was there, looking up at them with hair partially hiding his eyes. He stood in front of Dean - fiercely protective. The creature stirred, he had not expected to battle both of them. No matter, once he became Himself the boy would come to him. Would be a brother. Would be everything.
Patience exhausted the creature hardened, pulled with a vengeance. Invisible tendrils sliced like razors, swift, precise. His speed was incredible now, too quick for Dean to outrun. Still, the man struggled, agony searing him as one by one the creature snipped, diced, bisected. They hugged each other … Dean and young Sammy. Tears trailed as Dean gasped for breath between huge sobs. No, please … Sammy. Crying, broken … Dean fought with all he had, grabbed, held, clutched … between shattered breaths he begged for mercy. A new meaningless word for the creature to twist through his fresh full lips.
* * *
“Dean … Dean, c’mon son, wake up. Snap out of it. It’s just a dream … Dean!”
John shook his son to no avail. He was thrashing, vibrating madly, hand on his forehead, fingers bunching and uncurling as if he were trying to get inside and pull out his own brain. He screamed, raw, guttural, “No … Sammy … NO …”
John couldn’t imagine what nightmare had entangled his eldest this deeply. They’d had some tough scrapes. Close calls. Was he reliving a time when Sam’d been in danger? The boys went on hunts alone … was there something John didn’t know about? Something that had threatened Sam and the memory of it was now driving Dean … No. He wasn’t even going to think the word. Dean would be fine.
Suddenly, Dean calmed down, drew breath in deeply as if someone had been choking him but ceased. Slowly he opened his eyes. “Dad …?”
John let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, I’m here. Right here. You okay?”
“Yeah … I guess. Feel confused. Where are we?”
“We’re in Iowa,” Then quickly he tacked on, “Sam’s in California, away at school.”
“Who?”
John’s heart went cold. “Sammy … your brother.”
Dean’s gaze was blank, dead. “I have a brother?”
What was wrong with his son? John’s horror was interrupted by the ring of his phone. Reaching for it was easier than facing his son’s empty eyes a second longer. He glanced at the familiar number.
“Bobby,” he answered, amazed he still had the ability to form words.
“John. How’s Dean? Any better?”
Earlier, Bobby had been relieved to hear the tests came out okay. John knew how the older hunter felt about the boys. He hesitated, maybe a drop too long. “He’s the same. Keeps forgetting things.”
He heard breathing on the other end before Bobby spoke again. “John, I thought about what you told me. The client that you didn’t remember that sent Dean on that last job. The haunting.”
John went on alert. “What about it?”
“Said the name was Barrister?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I don’t know any Barrister. But remember ten years ago in Skokie … we hung out at a hunter’s bar named Barrister’s? Met that hunter Goldman? Smart. Knew all that Jewish lore and mysticism. I left shortly after we met him. But you stayed on longer in Illinois, right?”
The blood drained from John’s face. He shuddered and almost dropped the phone. The dirt. Was red. And Dean … oh my god.
“John? You there?”
“B … Bobby … I saw clay, red clay … Could a golem cause Dean’s symptoms?”
“A golem?! Here? You’d have the get the clay from the Middle East … holy land … Not impossible … been some cases in the states but very few. Why would - John, somethin’ happen between you and Goldman?”
Yeah, something had happened. Job’d gone south. And Goldman’s son … John felt he might vomit. Didn’t know what to tell his friend. “We were on a hunt. Shapeshifter. Took on the shape of Goldman’s son … I … was an accident. I thought it was the ‘shifter. But …”
“Jesus. John, how come you never told me this?”
John was silent. What was there to tell? He’d fucked up. And now … now Goldman was getting his revenge … on Dean. This was all his fault. The questions Dean asked over and over. It was sucking his memories. Dean screaming his brother’s name in panic. Thinking someone was after Sammy. Nothing would terrorize Dean more than that.
Bobby’s voice broke through his inner tirade. “John if this is a golem, then you have to get Dean out of there fast. As far away as possible.”
John thought about this. Goldman was smart. Good tracker. Where would they go? And how could Dean live like this? “Bobby. How do we kill it?”
“Well … only way I know of means getting mighty close. The golem will have a word inscribed on its forehead … emet … means truth. You might not see it but it’ll be there. You have to cut out the first letter, then the word’s meaning changes to death. But John, how would you find it?”
“Not sure, but every time it’s near Dean … well, I can tell.”
Bobby snorted, “This is nuts! You gotta get Dean away from there. It’s been at Dean for days already. Sapping his memories. More, everything he knows. Getting stronger every time. Soon there won’t be any Dean, only it.”
John steeled himself. Fought the pain of the other man’s words. He had to end this. Dean had lost more than he could bear if he knew. It had been days, long enough for it to be permanent unless the golem was killed. Dean without Sammy? It just … he couldn’t leave his son this way.
“Bobby. I … have to go. I’ll call you before I … I promise.”
He hung up. Looked toward Dean. Got a vapid gaze in return. I’m sorry … so sorry, Dean. I’ll make it right. Get you back Sam. I promise.
Go to chapter 8