Golem -- Ch. 8/9, 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], [ 7]
Chapter 8
Burkittsville, Indiana
April 15, 2006
Dean quit squirming because other than bloodying his wrists this was accomplishing nothing. The sun was lower but he still had time. Just needed to think of something. Sam, any ideas? I got nuthin’, Dean. Was afraid you’d say that.
Emily broke through the noise in his head. “So this is what you do.” She stopped and let out a nervous giggle. “I mean, not this, exactly … but go around fighting monsters?”
He chuckled back. “Yeah. Pretty much. Me and my dad. And recently, me and my brother, Sam.”
“Oh. And where is Sam?”
Dean startled at the question. He’d been getting flashes of last year’s events since he made the connection to the date. He remembered that. Asking that same question over and over. Never knowing, as the tight, hot worry sprung up his gut each time. Because he always knew where Sam was. It was his job to know.
“Sam’s on his way to California. Looking for our dad.”
“Is your dad missing?” Emily asked.
“He was. But he called and we think he’s in Sacramento.” What could he tell this girl? The dysfunction that was his family was not chit-chat material. And despite everything, he wished his family were together with all that he had. Maybe he should have gone with Sam to find Dad. Except his father had ordered them not to find him. And Dad was the smartest hunter there was. If he said stay away there had to be a mighty fine reason. Not to mention the young couple still breathing because of Dean. Couldn’t have let them become fertilizer for this depraved orchard.
A year ago Dad saved Dean’s life. Parts of this he wished he could forget. His father brandishing the deadly blade just inches away … nope, better to leave that sleeping dog alone. Good reason for lots of Dad’s choices. After, Dean had blacked out. Woke up to his father’s ashen face and knew instantly that whatever had just gone down had cost his old man. Owing his life to his father was nothing new. He pulled again at the damn ropes. He had to get out of this. Get back in the game. Couldn’t leave his brother and father alone - not with the evil that his father was chasing.
He needed to pull a Houdini. It would kill, but maybe there was a way to dislocate some bones in his hands and wedge his way free. That’s your plan? You have got to be kiddin’ me. Shut up, Sam.
* * *
Waterloo, Iowa
April 2005
John circled the house. Spotted the clay tracks and had to suck in air to keep from vomiting on the spot. How had he missed this? Then he remembered that all this started when he was away - in Minnesota. Giving driving lessons to the little brother that he was keeping from Dean and all the time Dean’s other brother was being ripped out of his mind. The sick irony threatened to incapacitate him again.
He pictured Goldman’s sharp brown eyes. Bobby was right. Man was smart. Knew his stuff. Must have been planning this for years. Not like you can mail order the clay, not to mention the amount of time it would take, the knowledge lost for eons, the rituals, sacrifices … he shuddered. And this thing was morphing into Dean. Would know feel everything his son knew. Would be a perfect, soulless copy, leaving Dean trapped in an empty shell.
There was nothing out here now. He imagined that seeing John might have made it leave. Golems were naturally fearful. Obedient to their master and sometimes to other authority figures. His mind swirled with ideas and half-formed plans. He studied the calm street another long moment before stepping back inside. The memories would ricochet back and forth between Dean and the golem for a while. Please, let him know his brother again.
Dean was up and pacing. “Why don’t I know anything?” he barked at John as soon as he stepped back inside.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you said I had a brother … and there’s nothing … but I should know this, it’s fucking wrong that I don’t. And everything I do know is worthless … Pierre is the capital of South Dakota. Now why the hell do I know that and don’t know … can’t remember … Dammit … tell me his name again.”
“Who?”
Dean glared at him. “My little brother.”
John took a deep breath. Maybe it was coming back. He hadn’t mentioned birth order. John stepped closer, reached out with his hand but Dean pulled back, eyes tortured. “Sammy,” he reminded his boy.
Dean closed his eyes. Shuddered. If it were possible to see an inner war then this is what John was witnessing. His son’s hand moved out as if touching something gently.
“I felt him,” Dean whispered. “Felt him kick.”
John’s eyes filled fast. Dean was remembering Sammy before he was born. When Mary’d hold her little boy’s hand over her belly and Dean’s eyes turned to saucers and his smile filled his face. And John had thought that life could never be more perfect than that. He’d been right.
Dean staggered. John reached him before he fell and guided Dean gently down on the sofa. “Sa… mmy … “ His son uttered his brother’s name once in a prayer so deep, so painful, John thought the grief of it would swallow him whole. Dean started gulping huge breaths as he leaned into John’s shoulder and sobbed like John hadn’t seen in twenty years. “Dad-dy, it took him.”
“Dean. Nobody took him. Your brother’s fine. Trust me. I’ll get him back for you.”
“Can’t … black … all black. ‘S wrong. ‘S ‘m broth …”
John thought of calling Sam but it wouldn’t help. Dean wouldn’t know who he was talking to. The transference was too deep. It was a testament to his son’s strength that he retained any memory at all. Days. That abomination had been devouring his son’s brain for days and he’d stood idly by. Or worse … wasn’t here. Was sneaking off to allow himself the gift of innocence - a gift he’d denied this son.
Dean pulled away and took a series of deep breaths. John could tell he was trying to get himself together, bring himself back. He jumped up suddenly swiping angrily at his eyes. “Fuck,” he uttered. “What is happening to me?”
Dean hardly cursed in front of John. Always showed respect. But this was beyond anything they’d faced before. John steadied himself. He owed his eldest the truth.
“There’s a golem after you.”
Dean stared at him. “A what?”
“It’s an ancient evil. A … man … made out of clay. Special dirt from Jerusalem.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
John took in Dean’s red-rimmed eyes, gaunt expression, perpetually puzzled stare. Heard the broken plea for his baby brother claw its way out of his son’s heart. No, only the absolute truth would do here. “Years ago I met a hunter.” At Dean’s raised brow he added, “That’s what I … what we do, Dean … we hunt evil, monsters. You were young when I met Joe Goldman. He and his son were hunters. In Illinois. We got wind of strange murders. People seemingly being in the same place twice. He told me it was a shapeshifter. Someone … something that can take on the form of someone else. Copy their body.”
He stopped. It was impossible not to see the parallels. Only a shapeshifter was able to tap into memories, providing he kept his victim alive and relatively well. The golem became his victim. Bobby was right. If the merge continued to completion there would be no more Dean.
“I still don’t-“
“The shapeshifter assumed the form of Michael - Goldman’s son. We were tracking it. I hadn’t realized that Michael had gotten free, was also tracking it. Thought it was the ‘shifter when I killed it-him.”
Dean’s eyes locked with his, voice like a sigh, “You killed his son?”
John looked away. Couldn’t meet that warm gaze. It should have been outraged, horrified, angry. Instead, there was only caring.
“Didn’t know. Even right after, I didn’t know. Not until Joe showed up and I saw Michael standing behind him ready to strike.”
Dean reached for his shoulder but pulled back upon John’s stiffness. “Then what happened?” he asked.
“I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Joe swung around quickly and took the sonovabitch down himself. That was it. Never said another word to me. Carried his son out of there and never looked back. But clearly he hasn’t forgotten. He had to be planning this for a long time. The golem is like a shapeshifter. It’s going to assume your shape. But it’s more. It’s stealing your memory, your knowledge. Takes time. Can’t get it all at once and often the memories will bounce back to you many times before he can keep them.”
Dean stared at him. “It’s like I can feel the gaps. Know that I’m supposed to know things, but I just don’t. Dad, will I forget you?”
John wanted to say no, but couldn’t. “Dean. In order to kill this thing I have to get close. Have to cut into its brain. The best way to track it-”
“Is through me,” Dean interrupted.
John couldn’t help but admire the innate hunter skills Dean had. Even with Swiss cheese for a mind he knew what to do.
“If we kill it … will all my memories come back?”
“Yes. They should. But, Dean … the more time it spends near you the stronger it gets, the more it takes. If it takes too much-”
“No. We do this. It doesn’t … doesn’t only want me.”
John met Dean’s eyes, knew instantly it was settled, there was no other way.
Dean nodded and walked slowly around the room. John felt the moment his son’s eyes rested on the framed photo on the book shelf. An old photo of the three of them. Pastor Jim had taken it years ago. Dean fingered the photo.
“I feel him,” he said so softly John wasn’t even sure he’d understood.
“The creature?” John asked alarmed.
Dean nodded. “No. Well, maybe, but not now. Sam. I can’t remember … boy’s face isn’t familiar. But I still feel …” His voice dropped. “I love my brother.”
John swallowed hard. “Yeah. You do.”
* * *
The world didn’t look all green. It was better. It glowed like a rainbow with reds and blues and yellows as hot as the sun and, yes, greens. Eyes were mighty important. The creature had seen before. Shapes, curves, definitions. Could see colors and knew black and white. But this was special. He was special now. The girl had looked at him and her smile glowed pink and white and rose and sparkly - filling her face with warmth. He used his new beautiful lips to show off his new shiny teeth and the world went from warm to hot.
New parts to this magnificent body moved and tightened and throbbed. He remembered the words the man, Dean, had used when these feelings took over … oh baby, yeah, more, oh god … because he was a talker whatever that was and the girl laughed and asked if he was a screamer, but the creature didn’t want this because screaming was bad. There wasn’t time to pursue this girl even though his body was trembling with want for her. The Master didn’t know, couldn’t know … because he would talk again about trouble and maybe lock him up and he really didn’t want that.
The Master gave him many directions, instructions … he was a genius, he knew everything. The creature knew only what Dean knew. He knew Sam. He knew hunting. He knew Mom. He knew lots of pretty girls. And tonight … he’d know Dad.
They pulled in front of the house across the street and he reached out. Dean was awake. Disappointing but surmountable. The creature had gotten very strong. The physical transformation was complete. All that was left were a few more threads. Take the father. Then go back for some cleanup. Dean would be empty and the creature would be done. He’d finally be Himself. He’d asked the Master if after the father was dead they’d kill Dean, too. He’d been told no. Couldn’t do that. Needed him to breathe. They shared an essence. The creature didn’t know what that was but he would take care of Dean.
The Master said he’d be like an idiot brother. That word again. He wanted to tell the Master that he was planning on going for his real brother, Sam. So that he could really become Himself. But he knew the Master would not like that. Complication. So he kept his plans to himself.
The fight for Dad started almost as soon as he entered Dean’s mind. Dean was strong. Fierce. On fire. It stunned the creature and momentarily scared him. Something was wrong. He wanted to run, to tell the Master to leave, please … Get out, you muddy bastard, worthless piece of evil bile, get the fuck out of my head! The creature retreated and hid in a dark corner. What had happened? It’s like … Dean knew. He steadied himself and tried again … reaching out deftly. There - Dad teaching him to shoot. Target range. Hold it steady, son. Go with it, don’t fight it. Big smile.
Dean shuddered and lashed out but the memory was his. Too late. The creature had the upper hand again. Remembered how strong he’d become, acted quick. Snipped and sliced and carved, consumed. Events flashed like flickers. Bruises and tears and hugs and anger and laughter and fear … Dad ran, scooped up Dean, whisked him away before the air turned to hell behind them. Deep brown eyes burned into him until Dean realized he was all Dad had - he and Sammy were his father’s whole world and he’d do anything … anything … to protect him. Make it better. Stop. You can’t have him. Dad! Sam, Sam! And his brother appeared. The creature stopped, tried to push Sam back … away. But he escaped - ran to Dean.
“Sam!”
“Dean! Man, it’s good to see you.”
“Thing’s got me. Keeps trying to take you away.”
“I know. But you’re stronger. Fight it.”
“Dude, you got tall. Like a Sasquatch.”
Laughter rang in the creature’s head and he put his hands to his ears to try to block it out. Rage flowed through him. You do not laugh at me! He reached in and shoved Sam the hell back deep and glared at the man he was becoming. I’ll be back.
“Counting on it, Arnold.”
The Master touched his shoulder. “Enough for tonight. A few more nights and we’ll be done. Let’s go now.”
* * *
Watching Dean suffer as that thing raped his mind was threatening to tear John apart. His son moaned and begged, head turning and hands clenching, body contorting in the seat. John had to bite his knuckle to keep from running out of the car and stabbing this thing in the eye right now. Only it wouldn’t work. The monster would disappear the minute John was spotted. If Goldman caught on that John knew, he’d run away. Bide his time and attack again when they stopped expecting it.
In the meantime, Dean would be left with huge gaps and an aching heart where his brother’s face used to be. No. This was the only way. They would track it. Kill it. He turned back to Dean. “Fight it son, fight it.”
“Trying,” Dean stuttered. “Pulling … keeps pulling. Wants … you.”
John squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving you. No matter what it does, you remember that.”
Dean’s eyes met his for an agonized moment before rolling backward in his head and with a loud cry he slumped forward.
“Dean! Dean, you okay?” John shook him.
An eternity passed as Dean sat slumped in the passenger seat.
Then, breathily, “Dad? Go straight … then left.”
John exhaled sharply and stepped on the gas. They were going to follow the thing back to where it was hiding and end this.
“Is it gone, Dean? Out of your head?”
Dean held his forehead. “Yeah. Getting better,” Dean’s lips rose into an almost grin. “Giving it a hard time. Helps to know.”
His son’s voice sounded odd. Almost pleased.
“Dean?”
“Got back some … Sam … Sam’s tall.”
John laughed. It escaped his lips like a foreign noise but, damn, those words were the sweetest he’d heard in a long time. “Yeah. Kid got real tall.”
“Turn right up ahead. Don’t get too close … or it’ll know.”
“You sense each other?”
“Yeah. But if there’s enough distance I can hide that I’m here.” Dean paused. “Thing’s horny.”
“What?”
“Dad, it wants girls. Obsessed with sex. Like it latched onto my adolescence and wants to relive each hormone-driven adventure.”
John chuckled. Good luck with that, Goldman, he thought darkly. But there was something to Dean’s quiet that broke through John’s temporary humor.
“Dean?”
“Not sure. Think it mighta hurt someone. A girl.”
Dammit. “Not your fault, Dean.”
More silence.
He drove on, staying just enough behind to hopefully mask Dean’s presence. He wished he could have left him home but Dean’s connection to the Golem made the tracking possible. If he just followed Goldman outright he’d be made and the gig would be up.
“It stopped. Up ahead. Maybe two blocks.”
He told Dean to stay in the car and walked slowly up the street.
Go to chapter 9
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], [ 7]
Chapter 8
Burkittsville, Indiana
April 15, 2006
Dean quit squirming because other than bloodying his wrists this was accomplishing nothing. The sun was lower but he still had time. Just needed to think of something. Sam, any ideas? I got nuthin’, Dean. Was afraid you’d say that.
Emily broke through the noise in his head. “So this is what you do.” She stopped and let out a nervous giggle. “I mean, not this, exactly … but go around fighting monsters?”
He chuckled back. “Yeah. Pretty much. Me and my dad. And recently, me and my brother, Sam.”
“Oh. And where is Sam?”
Dean startled at the question. He’d been getting flashes of last year’s events since he made the connection to the date. He remembered that. Asking that same question over and over. Never knowing, as the tight, hot worry sprung up his gut each time. Because he always knew where Sam was. It was his job to know.
“Sam’s on his way to California. Looking for our dad.”
“Is your dad missing?” Emily asked.
“He was. But he called and we think he’s in Sacramento.” What could he tell this girl? The dysfunction that was his family was not chit-chat material. And despite everything, he wished his family were together with all that he had. Maybe he should have gone with Sam to find Dad. Except his father had ordered them not to find him. And Dad was the smartest hunter there was. If he said stay away there had to be a mighty fine reason. Not to mention the young couple still breathing because of Dean. Couldn’t have let them become fertilizer for this depraved orchard.
A year ago Dad saved Dean’s life. Parts of this he wished he could forget. His father brandishing the deadly blade just inches away … nope, better to leave that sleeping dog alone. Good reason for lots of Dad’s choices. After, Dean had blacked out. Woke up to his father’s ashen face and knew instantly that whatever had just gone down had cost his old man. Owing his life to his father was nothing new. He pulled again at the damn ropes. He had to get out of this. Get back in the game. Couldn’t leave his brother and father alone - not with the evil that his father was chasing.
He needed to pull a Houdini. It would kill, but maybe there was a way to dislocate some bones in his hands and wedge his way free. That’s your plan? You have got to be kiddin’ me. Shut up, Sam.
* * *
Waterloo, Iowa
April 2005
John circled the house. Spotted the clay tracks and had to suck in air to keep from vomiting on the spot. How had he missed this? Then he remembered that all this started when he was away - in Minnesota. Giving driving lessons to the little brother that he was keeping from Dean and all the time Dean’s other brother was being ripped out of his mind. The sick irony threatened to incapacitate him again.
He pictured Goldman’s sharp brown eyes. Bobby was right. Man was smart. Knew his stuff. Must have been planning this for years. Not like you can mail order the clay, not to mention the amount of time it would take, the knowledge lost for eons, the rituals, sacrifices … he shuddered. And this thing was morphing into Dean. Would know feel everything his son knew. Would be a perfect, soulless copy, leaving Dean trapped in an empty shell.
There was nothing out here now. He imagined that seeing John might have made it leave. Golems were naturally fearful. Obedient to their master and sometimes to other authority figures. His mind swirled with ideas and half-formed plans. He studied the calm street another long moment before stepping back inside. The memories would ricochet back and forth between Dean and the golem for a while. Please, let him know his brother again.
Dean was up and pacing. “Why don’t I know anything?” he barked at John as soon as he stepped back inside.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you said I had a brother … and there’s nothing … but I should know this, it’s fucking wrong that I don’t. And everything I do know is worthless … Pierre is the capital of South Dakota. Now why the hell do I know that and don’t know … can’t remember … Dammit … tell me his name again.”
“Who?”
Dean glared at him. “My little brother.”
John took a deep breath. Maybe it was coming back. He hadn’t mentioned birth order. John stepped closer, reached out with his hand but Dean pulled back, eyes tortured. “Sammy,” he reminded his boy.
Dean closed his eyes. Shuddered. If it were possible to see an inner war then this is what John was witnessing. His son’s hand moved out as if touching something gently.
“I felt him,” Dean whispered. “Felt him kick.”
John’s eyes filled fast. Dean was remembering Sammy before he was born. When Mary’d hold her little boy’s hand over her belly and Dean’s eyes turned to saucers and his smile filled his face. And John had thought that life could never be more perfect than that. He’d been right.
Dean staggered. John reached him before he fell and guided Dean gently down on the sofa. “Sa… mmy … “ His son uttered his brother’s name once in a prayer so deep, so painful, John thought the grief of it would swallow him whole. Dean started gulping huge breaths as he leaned into John’s shoulder and sobbed like John hadn’t seen in twenty years. “Dad-dy, it took him.”
“Dean. Nobody took him. Your brother’s fine. Trust me. I’ll get him back for you.”
“Can’t … black … all black. ‘S wrong. ‘S ‘m broth …”
John thought of calling Sam but it wouldn’t help. Dean wouldn’t know who he was talking to. The transference was too deep. It was a testament to his son’s strength that he retained any memory at all. Days. That abomination had been devouring his son’s brain for days and he’d stood idly by. Or worse … wasn’t here. Was sneaking off to allow himself the gift of innocence - a gift he’d denied this son.
Dean pulled away and took a series of deep breaths. John could tell he was trying to get himself together, bring himself back. He jumped up suddenly swiping angrily at his eyes. “Fuck,” he uttered. “What is happening to me?”
Dean hardly cursed in front of John. Always showed respect. But this was beyond anything they’d faced before. John steadied himself. He owed his eldest the truth.
“There’s a golem after you.”
Dean stared at him. “A what?”
“It’s an ancient evil. A … man … made out of clay. Special dirt from Jerusalem.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
John took in Dean’s red-rimmed eyes, gaunt expression, perpetually puzzled stare. Heard the broken plea for his baby brother claw its way out of his son’s heart. No, only the absolute truth would do here. “Years ago I met a hunter.” At Dean’s raised brow he added, “That’s what I … what we do, Dean … we hunt evil, monsters. You were young when I met Joe Goldman. He and his son were hunters. In Illinois. We got wind of strange murders. People seemingly being in the same place twice. He told me it was a shapeshifter. Someone … something that can take on the form of someone else. Copy their body.”
He stopped. It was impossible not to see the parallels. Only a shapeshifter was able to tap into memories, providing he kept his victim alive and relatively well. The golem became his victim. Bobby was right. If the merge continued to completion there would be no more Dean.
“I still don’t-“
“The shapeshifter assumed the form of Michael - Goldman’s son. We were tracking it. I hadn’t realized that Michael had gotten free, was also tracking it. Thought it was the ‘shifter when I killed it-him.”
Dean’s eyes locked with his, voice like a sigh, “You killed his son?”
John looked away. Couldn’t meet that warm gaze. It should have been outraged, horrified, angry. Instead, there was only caring.
“Didn’t know. Even right after, I didn’t know. Not until Joe showed up and I saw Michael standing behind him ready to strike.”
Dean reached for his shoulder but pulled back upon John’s stiffness. “Then what happened?” he asked.
“I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Joe swung around quickly and took the sonovabitch down himself. That was it. Never said another word to me. Carried his son out of there and never looked back. But clearly he hasn’t forgotten. He had to be planning this for a long time. The golem is like a shapeshifter. It’s going to assume your shape. But it’s more. It’s stealing your memory, your knowledge. Takes time. Can’t get it all at once and often the memories will bounce back to you many times before he can keep them.”
Dean stared at him. “It’s like I can feel the gaps. Know that I’m supposed to know things, but I just don’t. Dad, will I forget you?”
John wanted to say no, but couldn’t. “Dean. In order to kill this thing I have to get close. Have to cut into its brain. The best way to track it-”
“Is through me,” Dean interrupted.
John couldn’t help but admire the innate hunter skills Dean had. Even with Swiss cheese for a mind he knew what to do.
“If we kill it … will all my memories come back?”
“Yes. They should. But, Dean … the more time it spends near you the stronger it gets, the more it takes. If it takes too much-”
“No. We do this. It doesn’t … doesn’t only want me.”
John met Dean’s eyes, knew instantly it was settled, there was no other way.
Dean nodded and walked slowly around the room. John felt the moment his son’s eyes rested on the framed photo on the book shelf. An old photo of the three of them. Pastor Jim had taken it years ago. Dean fingered the photo.
“I feel him,” he said so softly John wasn’t even sure he’d understood.
“The creature?” John asked alarmed.
Dean nodded. “No. Well, maybe, but not now. Sam. I can’t remember … boy’s face isn’t familiar. But I still feel …” His voice dropped. “I love my brother.”
John swallowed hard. “Yeah. You do.”
* * *
The world didn’t look all green. It was better. It glowed like a rainbow with reds and blues and yellows as hot as the sun and, yes, greens. Eyes were mighty important. The creature had seen before. Shapes, curves, definitions. Could see colors and knew black and white. But this was special. He was special now. The girl had looked at him and her smile glowed pink and white and rose and sparkly - filling her face with warmth. He used his new beautiful lips to show off his new shiny teeth and the world went from warm to hot.
New parts to this magnificent body moved and tightened and throbbed. He remembered the words the man, Dean, had used when these feelings took over … oh baby, yeah, more, oh god … because he was a talker whatever that was and the girl laughed and asked if he was a screamer, but the creature didn’t want this because screaming was bad. There wasn’t time to pursue this girl even though his body was trembling with want for her. The Master didn’t know, couldn’t know … because he would talk again about trouble and maybe lock him up and he really didn’t want that.
The Master gave him many directions, instructions … he was a genius, he knew everything. The creature knew only what Dean knew. He knew Sam. He knew hunting. He knew Mom. He knew lots of pretty girls. And tonight … he’d know Dad.
They pulled in front of the house across the street and he reached out. Dean was awake. Disappointing but surmountable. The creature had gotten very strong. The physical transformation was complete. All that was left were a few more threads. Take the father. Then go back for some cleanup. Dean would be empty and the creature would be done. He’d finally be Himself. He’d asked the Master if after the father was dead they’d kill Dean, too. He’d been told no. Couldn’t do that. Needed him to breathe. They shared an essence. The creature didn’t know what that was but he would take care of Dean.
The Master said he’d be like an idiot brother. That word again. He wanted to tell the Master that he was planning on going for his real brother, Sam. So that he could really become Himself. But he knew the Master would not like that. Complication. So he kept his plans to himself.
The fight for Dad started almost as soon as he entered Dean’s mind. Dean was strong. Fierce. On fire. It stunned the creature and momentarily scared him. Something was wrong. He wanted to run, to tell the Master to leave, please … Get out, you muddy bastard, worthless piece of evil bile, get the fuck out of my head! The creature retreated and hid in a dark corner. What had happened? It’s like … Dean knew. He steadied himself and tried again … reaching out deftly. There - Dad teaching him to shoot. Target range. Hold it steady, son. Go with it, don’t fight it. Big smile.
Dean shuddered and lashed out but the memory was his. Too late. The creature had the upper hand again. Remembered how strong he’d become, acted quick. Snipped and sliced and carved, consumed. Events flashed like flickers. Bruises and tears and hugs and anger and laughter and fear … Dad ran, scooped up Dean, whisked him away before the air turned to hell behind them. Deep brown eyes burned into him until Dean realized he was all Dad had - he and Sammy were his father’s whole world and he’d do anything … anything … to protect him. Make it better. Stop. You can’t have him. Dad! Sam, Sam! And his brother appeared. The creature stopped, tried to push Sam back … away. But he escaped - ran to Dean.
“Sam!”
“Dean! Man, it’s good to see you.”
“Thing’s got me. Keeps trying to take you away.”
“I know. But you’re stronger. Fight it.”
“Dude, you got tall. Like a Sasquatch.”
Laughter rang in the creature’s head and he put his hands to his ears to try to block it out. Rage flowed through him. You do not laugh at me! He reached in and shoved Sam the hell back deep and glared at the man he was becoming. I’ll be back.
“Counting on it, Arnold.”
The Master touched his shoulder. “Enough for tonight. A few more nights and we’ll be done. Let’s go now.”
* * *
Watching Dean suffer as that thing raped his mind was threatening to tear John apart. His son moaned and begged, head turning and hands clenching, body contorting in the seat. John had to bite his knuckle to keep from running out of the car and stabbing this thing in the eye right now. Only it wouldn’t work. The monster would disappear the minute John was spotted. If Goldman caught on that John knew, he’d run away. Bide his time and attack again when they stopped expecting it.
In the meantime, Dean would be left with huge gaps and an aching heart where his brother’s face used to be. No. This was the only way. They would track it. Kill it. He turned back to Dean. “Fight it son, fight it.”
“Trying,” Dean stuttered. “Pulling … keeps pulling. Wants … you.”
John squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving you. No matter what it does, you remember that.”
Dean’s eyes met his for an agonized moment before rolling backward in his head and with a loud cry he slumped forward.
“Dean! Dean, you okay?” John shook him.
An eternity passed as Dean sat slumped in the passenger seat.
Then, breathily, “Dad? Go straight … then left.”
John exhaled sharply and stepped on the gas. They were going to follow the thing back to where it was hiding and end this.
“Is it gone, Dean? Out of your head?”
Dean held his forehead. “Yeah. Getting better,” Dean’s lips rose into an almost grin. “Giving it a hard time. Helps to know.”
His son’s voice sounded odd. Almost pleased.
“Dean?”
“Got back some … Sam … Sam’s tall.”
John laughed. It escaped his lips like a foreign noise but, damn, those words were the sweetest he’d heard in a long time. “Yeah. Kid got real tall.”
“Turn right up ahead. Don’t get too close … or it’ll know.”
“You sense each other?”
“Yeah. But if there’s enough distance I can hide that I’m here.” Dean paused. “Thing’s horny.”
“What?”
“Dad, it wants girls. Obsessed with sex. Like it latched onto my adolescence and wants to relive each hormone-driven adventure.”
John chuckled. Good luck with that, Goldman, he thought darkly. But there was something to Dean’s quiet that broke through John’s temporary humor.
“Dean?”
“Not sure. Think it mighta hurt someone. A girl.”
Dammit. “Not your fault, Dean.”
More silence.
He drove on, staying just enough behind to hopefully mask Dean’s presence. He wished he could have left him home but Dean’s connection to the Golem made the tracking possible. If he just followed Goldman outright he’d be made and the gig would be up.
“It stopped. Up ahead. Maybe two blocks.”
He told Dean to stay in the car and walked slowly up the street.
Go to chapter 9