(Fic) The Final Countdown (Supernatural/Charmed(Chris,Wyatt)
Title: The Final Countdown
Author: Just Ruth
Prompt bits: Supernatural/ Charmed (Chris and Wyatt Halliwell)
Rating: T (PG-13)
Summary: Even demons gamble - and sometimes they lose (AU)
Symbols: _italics_
Notes: December 23 2012 is the last day of the Mayan Calendar and some people believe it might be the date of the Apocalypse. In Baseball, some say the sign of the Apocalypse will be when the Chicago Cubs win the World Series.
Michael and his brother Asher were in the Season 1 episode "Something Wicked."
On Japanese honorifics: I am by no means an expert and welcome any corrections. The Japanese place the last name first. It is considered rude to call someone by their first name without permission or to use someone's name without and honorific. "Sensei" means teacher or master (as in the sense of the martial arts), "San" is the equivalent of Miss/ Mr. / Mrs., "Oniisan" means "older brother."
I am not an expert in magic and at any rate, do not try anything like this at home, _ever_.
Beta thanks to tigriswolf
Word Count: 5535
_Prologue: Fitchburg, Wisconsin, two years after the disappearance of Dean Winchester. . ._
The man was no longer Deputy Sheriff Tomlinson; he was the monster who had killed his mother and his wife. He'd killed Asher's teacher and two more women. He had a red face, staring ugly eyes, a big shotgun and Sam was standing between him and the monster.
Michael bit his lip hard to keep quiet. He was scared, as scared as when that awful nightmare thing came for him. Sam and his brother Dean had waited in the next room and had run in to shoot the nightmare and kill it. Dean was gone, Sam said he didn't know where, but Sam had agreed to help him find the monster that killed his mom. Now they were in the canvas tool shed behind the highway barn and Deputy Tomlinson was going to kill them.
"You don't have to do this. This is between you and me." Sam Winchester's voice was calm. "Mike's just a kid. Let him go."
"He saw me," snarled Tomlinson. "He saw me. He wasn't supposed to see me, but that's okay. See - I'm going to tell them you're the one he saw. You're the one who killed those women. You killed Mikie and I killed you. I'll be a hero, a hero."
Mike flicked a glance to Sam's open phone just behind Tomlinson. Sam had dialed 911 so maybe that meant the other sheriffs were listening in and would know the truth.
"She deserved it, the bitch deserved it! She thought she could make a fool of me. She could just walk away from me, _me_!"
"What about Barbara?" asked Sam, his hand was behind his back and Mike could see him creeping up his shirt to reach a blade at the small of his back.
"Who?"
"She was found behind the diner. Cass was found at the bus station."
"I-I never knew their names, but that doesn't matter! Truck stop slut, a runaway, nobodies! Who cares?"
"Miss Kramer wasn't a nobody!" shouted Mike. "And neither was my mom."
"Your mom - your mom was helping that slut! She knew she was leaving me! She was helping her, along with that fucking lesbian teacher. They were helping her!"
"My mom . . ."
"Michael, _shut up_!" Sam's voice barked. "Now, Deputy Tomlinson's right. He was being very smart. He killed those women so no one would know he killed his wife."
"That's right, that's absolutely right. . ." Tomlinson froze as a siren wailed in the distance. It got louder and louder. "How, how. . .?" he turned and saw the phone. With a roar of rage, he pumped the shotgun into the phone, shattering it to pieces.
As soon as Tomlinson turned, Sam left the knife where it was and lunged. He grabbed the barrel of the gun, forcing it down at the ground and shoving Tomlinson against one of the shed's supporting poles. Tomlinson cursed, trying to regain control of the gun.
"Run!" Sam ordered. Mike ran around to the front of the barn just as the other sheriff's car and two state trooper cars pulled up.
A female trooper pulled him aside as the others charged the tent. There were twelve shots. He counted. Twelve shots and then a terrible silence.
The officers came back walking very slowly. Sam came with them. There was blood on his face. Mike ran to him.
"I'm sorry," he cried, throwing his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," said Sam quietly, patting his shoulder.
The other officers said Tomlinson was dead.
Mike had thought about staying with his aunt and uncle, but then he thought about Sam being all alone. He sneaked away and hid in the backseat of the rental car.
Sam yelled at him and told him at the next town he was sending him home. Mike said he'd just run away again.
"Well, I'll just keep sending you back!"
"Yeah, right," jeered Mike.
_Twenty years into a possible future . . ._
In Lawrence, Kansas
"Seriously!" said the head of the construction crew to the foreman. "It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen. A whole car just buried in the ground right where the old crossroads was."
"Yeah?" the foreman yanked the tarp off the object. Bits of earth plopped off the vehicle. Underneath, the black paint gleamed like new. A large chunk of mud dropped from the side revealing mirror-finish chrome shaped into the name of the car: Impala.
"It shouldn't be this shiny," whispered the head of the crew. A tail light flickered red. The engine coughed and tried to turn over.
The foreman threw the tarp back over the car.
********
_Forty-eight hours and 1, 823 miles away_
The blond man used his keys to let himself into the house on the outskirts of San Francisco. He dropped his duffle on the floor in the hallway, hung his worn denim jacket on a wooden peg and followed the gleam of a lamp through the living room to the study, stepping with cat softness. An older man at the dark wood desk was scowling through his glasses at a paper he was reading. His clothing was comfortable professional attire. His jacket was on the back of the desk chair at the computer station to his right and a tie was hung over the neck of a stuffed raven on the bookcase behind him. His grey-touched dark hair curled over his collar. There was a pile of other papers next to his left elbow. He made a mark on what he was reading and added it to the pile. In almost the same move, he stood up, pointing a old-fashioned Beretta pistol at the blond.
"Hey, Dad," the blond grinned, his hands in his pockets as he leaned on the doorframe.
"Mike!" The older man lowered the weapon and snapped on the safety. "Don't _do_ that!" he slipped the gun back into its hiding place. "I thought you were coming back . . ." he looked up at the clock. "Oh, my God, it's Tuesday. I thought you were coming back this evening."
"I caught an earlier flight." Mike scrubbed his hand through his hair. "The wedding was okay. Asher found a great girl but. . . well. . ." he shrugged.
The older man nodded. "It was like you were looking through a window. You watched them be happy and couldn't really join in because you were watching the shadows they don't know are there." He stood up and stretched as Mike sighed and nodded. "Ugh, I've been sitting too long, but at least the papers are done." He pushed the glasses up on top of his forehead.
"Pop quiz for the demonology class?" Mike asked. It was well known among the students that Professor Sam Winchester's Demonology class was a tough course that they had to pay attention in and always be on their toes.
"Exorcism formulas, got some real creative spellings with the Latin." He packed up the papers into a leather bag.
"Did you eat tonight?"
"I think so." He rubbed his chin. "Maybe." He had come home from the Magic School at his usual time and couldn't remember if he had eaten before he sat down to grade the papers or if he had told himself he would grade a few and then eat.
"Well, I haven't," said Mike. "Let's get some Lucky Charms."
In the cozy breakfast nook, Sam poured Mike a bowl of cereal and then himself. Mike laughed as he poured the milk, because Sam's stomach growled.
"Okay, maybe I _didn't_ eat tonight," Sam shrugged. He squinted around the table, then felt the top of his head and pulled down his glasses. Mike shook his head and grinned. Michael had met both Winchester brothers when his brother had been targeted by an ancient evil called Shtriga. Two years later, the boy hunted him down when his mother died at the hands of a human monster. Sam had been going through a bad time and Mike's arrival stopped a downward spiral he didn't like to think about. Michael refused to go back and live with his aunt and uncle after they stopped the killer. He had sent Michael back twice and twice the boy ran away and found him again. By the third time, Mike had been calling him "Dad" for so long it felt right. There had never been any formal adoption, still Mike referred to himself as "Michael Winchester."
"There was something else, Dad." Mike retrieved his duffle from the hallway and pulled out a newspaper. "I saw it on a newsstand coming through O'Hare."
"Lawrence Journal World?" Sam opened the paper, "I haven't seen this in. . ." he froze, looking at the picture on the front page.
CAR FOUND AT CONSTRUCTION SITE
"It's the Impala, isn't it?" asked Mike.
"That's not where I buried it," whispered Sam, his face paling. He folded the paper, set in on the table and put his hands over his face a moment. "I have to call the others. . ."
"Not until you eat your Lucky Charms," Mike pointed at the bowl.
"Who’s taking care of who?" Sam muttered, but he smiled and picked up his spoon.
"So," Mike said around a mouthful, "do you think the world's ending?"
Sam snorted and turned on the radio for some background music. "People saw signs and portents in 1999; people were seeing signs and portents in 2012. I'll believe the world's ending when there's a sign _I_ can believe in."
"This just in!" said the news announcer over the radio. "In a bottom of the Ninth Grand Slam the Chicago Cubs have beat the Seattle Mariners to win the World Series by a score of 7 to 3. The Windy City is dancing in the streets. . ."
Sam stopped eating and stared at the radio.
*****
The six demon hunters were in the living room by mid day. In addition to Sam and Michael, they had been joined by the two Halliwell sons; Wyatt Halliwell was acknowledged to have tremendous supernatural power and the medieval broadsword he wore across his back was rumored to be the legendary Excalibur. His brother, Chris, made a name for himself with potions and healing and was every bit a master of white magic as Wyatt. The two members of the Izayoi clan had come from Japan five years ago after the Winchesters and the Halliwells went to Japan to stop a madman from opening a Hellgate. Master Izayoi Yukihiro and his niece, Izayoi Shuri were working with Sam to translate their family training manual into English. The Izayoi clan had been battling demons since roughly the eleventh century.
"Interesting," said Master Izayoi, steepling his fingers as he looked down at the photograph in the paper.
"Does this have anything to do with us helping to close the Hellgate that guy Rah was trying to open in Japan?" asked Wyatt.
Sam nodded grimly. "The last thing Rah said to me was that there was a place waiting for me in Hell. In the dungeon they were holding my brother in." He had to stare at the floor after he said it.
"If you will permit, Winchester-sensei, why would they go to such trouble?" asked Izayoi Shuri. She had brought out a tray and poured her uncle the first cup of tea. "It cannot have been easy for them to find and restore that special car."
"I don't know, Izayoi-san," Sam shook his head. "Other then that they want me to try and save my brother. And if I don't succeed, they have me where they want me: out of the way and not hunting them any more."
"And not interfering with whatever plans the demon plane may have for this side of the world," added Master Izayoi quietly. "Interesting."
"Sounds like something Aunt Phoebe would dream about," Chris mused, "She hasn't really dreamed about the end of the world since the Hellmouth in Sunnydale imploded."
"We're not saying it's going to be the end of the world; but when the Chicago Cubs win the World Series, _something_ big is going to happen," Mike argued.
"What should we do?" asked Wyatt.
Sam paced a moment. "I have a plan, but I would like to consult with all of you and Izayoi-sensei because I'm going to need your help."
*******
Chris walked out of the house into the small backyard that faced the hills. The last streaks of sunset were fading in the sky. He leaned against the side of the house.
Wyatt joined him after a moment. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.
"Do you really think it could be the end of the world?" Chris answered. "I mean if it is - shouldn't we be going into it without any regrets?"
"You going to tell Dad you're gay?"
"I can't. He'd never understand."
"He was a whitelighter. . ."
"He was also in the army."
Wyatt made a frustrated noise and smacked his fist on his hip. "I don't know if it's the end of the world or not," said Wyatt, "but you're not going to be any happier the more you keep lying to Dad and Mom . . .and to Mike."
"Mike has nothing to do with this!" Chris' face reddened.
"Then think about this. . . the more in turmoil you are, the more it's going to start affecting your powers." Wyatt glared at him. "And if the demons are trying to break out and cause trouble, _we_ need you to be the best you can be."
"Yeah," Chris looked at his feet. "Yeah."
******
Mike was upstairs in his room. He leaned on the windowsill and watched the Halliwell brothers talk below. He suddenly turned, one hand going for the knife at his belt.
"Hey," said Sam.
"Sorry." Mike dropped his hand to his side.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
"No," said Mike. He looked at Sam. Sam cocked his head to one side, raised his eyebrows and waited.
"I think I'm in love with Chris Halliwell," Mike blurted.
Sam's eyes widened. "Ok, I didn't expect that." He sat down on Mike's bed. "Oh, boy. Mike does Chris -- ?"
"I don't think he knows. Dad, what am I going to do?"
"I don't know." Sam stood up again. "I don't know." He pulled Mike to him in a tight hug.
"They could use this against us. I don't want to let you down," said Mike to his shoulder.
"You won't, Michael, that I'm sure of. You will _never_ let me down."
"My real dad was at the wedding," Mike broke the embrace and turned away, facing the closet with his hands clenched. "He - I barely knew him. Asher didn't even remember him. He was acting like he had something to do with it all when he hadn't even been there. I - he was drunk, and I told him I was glad I found a dad who was twice the man he was."
"Mike, you shouldn't have. . ." Sam gave a low sigh and shook his head. "I don't know what to say."
"Dad," Mike turned back, tears on his cheeks. "Can you say you love me?"
"Yes, Mike," Sam hugged him again. "Yes, I love you like you were my own son."
*********
_Maple Grove Cemetery, Lawrence Kansas_
Michael Winchester, dressed in a dark suit, waited a short distance away as his adopted father placed a bouquet at the single headstone of the three graves.
John Winchester - Beloved Father
Mary Winchester - Beloved Mother
Dean Winchester - Beloved Son and Brother
Sam was down on one knee, lost in his own thoughts. He heard Mike's phone ring.
"They're ready," he said quietly.
Sam crossed himself before he straightened. "So am I." He turned from the graves. "Let's go."
They went to the outskirts of town to the empty hulk of a department store. Outside, in the parking lot, the black car was suspended by a crane. On the lot, Wyatt stood guard with his sword as Chris held a peg in the center of a huge circle and at the end of the radius line, Master Izayoi carefully poured salt to finish off the circle. The circle of salt was within a five-pointed star. The star had been circled by a double ring marked with the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Outside that, a large square had been paced off and painted with symbols of the four cardinal points in Japanese Kanji.
To one side, near their vehicles, Izayoi Shuri was standing, her hands clasped, murmuring softly. She was barefoot, dressed in bright red loose pants and a snow-white tunic. She had a wooden sword in the sash at her waist and her long dark hair was gathered into a tail on the top of her head. She bowed when she saw him, but did not stop her soft murmur.
"All right, places, everyone," Sam called, tucking a hand-written journal under his arm. He entered one of the points with Izayoi Shuri directly behind him. Wyatt stepped to his left. Master Izayoi walked to his right. Michael took his point next to Wyatt, leaving Chris with the final point.
Chris' face was grim. Sam had taken him aside the night before and explained why he wanted him at that point. "I want Michael between you and Wyatt because if something goes wrong, one of you can get him out of it."
Sam cleared his throat. "We call the Forces of Light to this place where together we stand in a place that is both inside and outside of time."
Wyatt continued, "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to be a shield to us from the dark."
Michael added, "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to judge our hearts as we face the dark."
Chris swallowed and wet his lips. "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to give us strength against the dark."
Master Izayoi finished, “We call the Forces of Light, may they bless us with success as we do what must be done."
Sam signaled. The crane operator lowered the car into the circle. He swung the arm of the crane away, jumped from the cab and ran like hell.
Master Izayoi began to chant in Japanese as Sam opened the book and recited in Latin. The five points of the star seemed to flair with light.
The car motor revved and the gears shifted. The tires squealed as it tried to start off, but were blocked by the salt. It flashed its lights and rocked back and forth, the radio blaring.
"Quit your semblance and reveal your true form! Come forth!" Sam ordered.
A cloud of darkness curdled out of the hood of the car. It spread across the hood and shaped itself. It was a simulacrum of Dean lounging on the hood of the Impala like he was a spokesmodel. It was Dean from twenty years ago: young, handsome, with a cocky grin, and wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung dark-wash jeans.
"Hiya Sammy," it smirked. Its eyes glittered ruby red. "Finally decided to join the winning team?"
"You're not my brother." Sam's voice went flat. "Where is he?"
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, what makes you so sure this isn't me?" It sat up slowly. "There wasn't a body, not even a whiff of hellhound in the neighborhood. What makes you so sure I didn't just decide to stop fighting and take what was offered. Lots of power, lots of chicks, no worries. . ." It slid off the hood and stood in front of the car. "No aches, no pains, no aging. I've got everything I ever wanted. You could have it too."
It shifted to the shape of Paige Matthews, wearing only a black lace teddy. "And that means _everything_, Sammy."
"I told you, this thing wouldn't know shit," sneered Michael.
"Oh, look, it's little Mikey." The simulacrum turned to him. "Now he's a big, bad demon hunter." It turned into a young Sam, still clad in the same lack of clothing. "And he just _loves_ his Daddy. . ." It blinked, looked a little closer. "No, I got that wrong. It's a Halliwell who turns his head." It turned into a half-naked Chris, then leered at the reddening original. "Oh, am I telling secrets?"
"Get to the point!" Wyatt snapped.
"Ah, the big brother," It drawled. "Now, he prefers something more. . ." It melted down into the form of Izayoi Shuri wearing her hair in a geisha's bun and a lace negligee, "exotic."
It took every ounce of training Sam had ever undergone not to turn his head. The demon hadn't mentioned Izayoi Shuri yet, so possibly his "ace in the hole" was working. The young woman was still murmuring the chant Master Izayoi said was a sutra to render her invisible to demons.
"And what do you know of me, Ayakashi-san?" asked Master Izayoi politely.
The simulacrum shifted back to Dean form. "Who the hell are you?"
"Ah, then you have not consulted with the Adept known as Rah?" he smiled. "How very unfortunate, he could have told you much."
"Oh, yeah? Like what? Like you're out of your league and out of your comfort zone, old man?"
"As you say," Master Izayoi folded his arms and bowed.
"I think Michael is right," Sam growled. "You don't know shit. You don't have Dean and all you are doing is wasting my time." He flipped the pages, "Right; get out of here." He began to chant a formula of exorcism.
"All right, all right," It hopped back on the hood of the Impala. "Take a look at what's left of your precious big brother."
Sam swallowed hard. The demon gestured and a circle of fire flared. A thin figure in ragged clothes, with long tangled grey hair and beard appeared next to the car. He looked around wildly. Sam's stomach flipped, he had so rarely seen such fear in Dean's eyes. Fear darkened into despair.
"No," he said. "No, come on. I stopped believing you long ago. This isn't happening; you're not real!" he pointed at each of the participants. "You're not real! You're not real! You're not real! You're not real! You're. . ." he finished the circle and looked at Sam. "Old. No, no, no, this is another trick! Another dream! Stop it!" He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sobbed. "Stop it!" He fell to his knees. "Just stop, just stop. . ."
"And he used to call _you_ a wuss," jeered the demon, lounging decoratively on the hood again. "Look at him. Just couldn't do it alone, could he? Couldn't live being the last Winchester so he thought going to hell would be the way out. Now, he can't even look at his little brother."
"Let him go," Sam's voice was hoarse and his eyes burned with wanting to cry. "Give him back."
"What do I get? Let me guess, you're going to offer yourself. Boy, you guys it's just like trading cards."
"No," said Sam. "I'm offering you _your_ life."
"Excuse me?" It hopped off the hood of the Impala. "Excuse me? You're threatening me? With what? I know your ever-so-precious Colt is back in San Francisco in the Magic School's Library. You've got nothing that can threaten me."
"You sure about that?" Wyatt unsheathed the broadsword. It glowed with a silver aura.
"Come on then!" it turned to Wyatt. "Step inside that circle and let's get it on, Halliwell."
"Don't do it, Wyatt," Sam warned. "This is my fight."
"Your fight, old man? Since when?"
"Since now," Sam stepped forward, and raked a break in the salt with his foot. "Or are you as chicken shit as you look?"
The Dean face twisted into something inhuman as it lunged for the broken area.
"On abira unkyan sharakutan. Honor the prayers within, O Multiple Gods that descended in the past to worthy persons. Bind the ogre, put down the evil and extinguish the hundred demons of the core. Do it now!" said Master Izayoi. He hurled a square of calligraphy marked paper. It burst into flames as it touched the demon. Sam stepped aside, letting Izayoi Shuri step forward. The wooden sword she carried glowed with a blue aura in her hands.
The demon was a writhing shape of shadow. She glanced towards Wyatt, who nodded. They struck almost simultaneously. Blue flame and white flame crossed at right angles and the shadow shattered into screaming fragments that flared and vanished.
The black car disappeared. It was an Impala in the circle, but it was a battered and rusted hulk that might have been blue once, but was certainly not black. The ragged figure remained. He uncovered his face and looked around. "What the hell did you guys do to my car?" he shouted.
Sam wanted to run to him, but he had to wait until the magic circle was dispersed.
"Dean!" he finally ran forward, arms out. "Dean! It's Sam."
"No," he brought his hands up in a guard position. "No. This is another trick. You've done this before; Sammy comes to the rescue but the next morning I wake up back in Hell. I stopped buying it!"
"Dean," Sam swallowed. "Dean, it's real." He felt the tears start and could not stop them.
"No," he backed away. "You cut it out! Sammy hasn't saved me. Sammy never saves me. It's just another one of your god-damned tricks!"
Chris stepped up behind Dean and lightly touched the side of his neck with glowing hands. Sam caught him as he fell forward and went to his knees, cradling him in his arms.
"What did you do?" he shouted.
"I put him to sleep." Chris helped Sam lift Dean in his arms. "It will be easier on both of you."
"I will probably thank you later," Sam closed his eyes. "I just want to get him home."
"Right," Chris nodded. He turned. Michael immediately avoided his eyes and moved to help Sam.
Wyatt came over. "We've cleared enough of the circle. Let's get back to the Professor's house."
"Right," said Chris again. They joined hands with the others and orbed in a streak of light back to San Francisco.
*******
Sam stood at the door of the guest room. The four young people had taken it on themselves to wash off, dress in pajamas and settle the still sleeping Dean into the clean bed. The rags they took away to destroy. Sam had an armful of his own clothes. The pants would be long, but the rest might fit. Dean was so much thinner than he remembered. He set the clothes on the night stand.
There were lines on Dean's face, deeper, harsher than his own. Izayoi-san's deft and delicate use of a straight razor had revealed the strong chin and mouth he remembered. Sam reached out and gently smoothed some of the wild hair away from Dean's face. Michael had done the best he could to cut back the tangled mess with scissors.
"Well, Dean," he whispered, "what do I do now?"
Dean murmured unhappily in his sleep and turned away.
"What do I do now?" Sam repeated.
Master Izayoi was waiting politely in the hallway when he came out.
"Are you well, Winchester-san?"
"Please, Izayoi-sensei, I've told you, you can call me Sam," Sam rubbed his forehead.
The smaller man nodded. "I think, though, I shall call you Samuel-san. Sam-san is far too much like a brand of electronics. You may call me Yukihiro-san, if you wish."
"I'm honored, Yukihiro-san," Sam looked back into the room. "Yukihiro-san, are there any legends in your clan of someone rescued from Hell?"
Yukihiro shook his head, grimly, "Not after so long, Samuel-san," he hesitated. "Samuel-san, I must be honest. I am not sure that your brother may have been returned from his captivity completely sane."
"I'm afraid of that too," Sam swallowed.
"Samuel-san, I would speak with you in private."
Sam paused at the head of the stairs. He could hear Chris, Mike, Wyatt and Izayoi Shuri in quiet conversation below. He hesitated. "I think, we'd best go to my room, if you don't mind."
Yukihiro bowed slightly. Sam went in first and straightened a few items to make the room more tidy. He sat on the bed and gave him the chair at the desk. Yukihiro remained standing.
"I was glad the demon did not know me," he removed his jacket. "Because this is something I would rather tell you before it is used against you and the others."
"You know that as Miko and the bearer of the peach wood sword, Shuri will not be giving children to the clan. That is why our elders let her leave Japan. As for myself," he unbuttoned his shirt, turning around to expose his back.
An intricate tattoo of dancing cranes among pine branches and cattails had been etched into his skin. It stretched from shoulder to shoulder and from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his pants.
"It's beautiful," Sam meant it. He could also respect the amount of time and pain it had taken to acquire the artwork.
"For more than twelve years I lived with the man who bore a tattoo just like mine," said Yukihiro softly. "Cranes in our culture are a symbol of commitment and fidelity." He bowed his head. "We defied both our families and were cast out by them. It did not matter for a long time, but then he died, Samuel-san and I was alone and lost and . . . vulnerable." He drew a deep breath. "I met another man; a man who made me feel like I had come back to life, but in reality, he was using me to reach the secrets of our clan. . ." he hesitated.
"To open a Hell gate," Sam finished.
"And his name was Rah Levi," Yukihiro held the shirt before him as he turned to face Sam.
"Rah is dead."
"Are you so sure, Samuel-san? He fell into the gate he was attempting to create but, indeed, are you sure he is dead? Because I am not."
******
"Izayoi-san," Wyatt followed Izayoi Shuri into the kitchen. "Izayoi-san, I want to say I am sorry."
"Sorry? For your fantasy of me? Halliwell-oniisan, I find it very flattering," she smiled at him, "but, while it is flattering, I am what is called Miko, Halliwell-oniisan, Winchester-sensei says this is something like what you would call a nun," she indicated the wooden sword she still wore. "This sword is named Momo-ryuu - the peach dragon. It was carved from sacred peach wood long ago and to wield it I have had to take certain oaths, even as you have had to take certain oaths to wield the blade that _you_ carry."
Wyatt started to say something, then stopped and bit his lip. "I understand, Izayoi-san."
"Shuri," she said softly. "My name is Shuri-san." She turned quickly and began to fill the teakettle.
"My name is Wyatt," he said.
"I know," she whispered. "Do you know if Winchester-sensei has some snack cakes in the cupboard?" she asked aloud.
"I'll look," he said.
*******
Michael walked out into the backyard. His eyes strayed up to where the light was on in his father's window.
Chris came out and stood beside him. "Does he know?"
"I told him before we went to Kansas," Michael looked away, feeling his face growing warm. "I was afraid the demon would use it against us."
"What did he say?" Chris sounded almost desperate.
"That he knew I would never let him down," Michael was able to face Chris. "I asked him if he could say he loved me, and he did. He loves me as if I was his own son."
"You are so lucky," Chris shook his head. "God, I don't know who would have the bigger fit; my dad because he's ex-army or my mom because of the Halliwell name and the Halliwell destiny."
"I'm sorry," was all Michael could say.
"So am I," Chris looked at his feet, then looked up into Michael's eyes.
Michael closed the distance between them and kissed him.
******
Sam followed the smell of coffee from the automatic pot down the stairs. All was quiet in the house, with the four young people getting extra sleep and Master Izayoi out meditating in the backyard.
He entered the kitchen and froze. Dean, dressed in one of Sam's long sleeved shirts and pants that were rolled up at the bottom, was sitting at the table staring into a bowl of cereal. He picked up the spoon and fed himself another mouthful.
"They don't have Lucky Charms in Hell," he said quietly as he chewed. "They feed you. They even make it look pretty good; but it's never anything you can enjoy." He put down the spoon and stood up. "Sammy?" he asked cautiously. "Am I really back?"
"Yeah, Dean, you're really back," Sam smiled.
Dean's chin trembled and he stumbled into Sam's arms, sobbing on his brother's shoulder.
"Welcome back," Sam whispered, "Welcome back."
Author: Just Ruth
Prompt bits: Supernatural/ Charmed (Chris and Wyatt Halliwell)
Rating: T (PG-13)
Summary: Even demons gamble - and sometimes they lose (AU)
Symbols: _italics_
Notes: December 23 2012 is the last day of the Mayan Calendar and some people believe it might be the date of the Apocalypse. In Baseball, some say the sign of the Apocalypse will be when the Chicago Cubs win the World Series.
Michael and his brother Asher were in the Season 1 episode "Something Wicked."
On Japanese honorifics: I am by no means an expert and welcome any corrections. The Japanese place the last name first. It is considered rude to call someone by their first name without permission or to use someone's name without and honorific. "Sensei" means teacher or master (as in the sense of the martial arts), "San" is the equivalent of Miss/ Mr. / Mrs., "Oniisan" means "older brother."
I am not an expert in magic and at any rate, do not try anything like this at home, _ever_.
Beta thanks to tigriswolf
Word Count: 5535
_Prologue: Fitchburg, Wisconsin, two years after the disappearance of Dean Winchester. . ._
The man was no longer Deputy Sheriff Tomlinson; he was the monster who had killed his mother and his wife. He'd killed Asher's teacher and two more women. He had a red face, staring ugly eyes, a big shotgun and Sam was standing between him and the monster.
Michael bit his lip hard to keep quiet. He was scared, as scared as when that awful nightmare thing came for him. Sam and his brother Dean had waited in the next room and had run in to shoot the nightmare and kill it. Dean was gone, Sam said he didn't know where, but Sam had agreed to help him find the monster that killed his mom. Now they were in the canvas tool shed behind the highway barn and Deputy Tomlinson was going to kill them.
"You don't have to do this. This is between you and me." Sam Winchester's voice was calm. "Mike's just a kid. Let him go."
"He saw me," snarled Tomlinson. "He saw me. He wasn't supposed to see me, but that's okay. See - I'm going to tell them you're the one he saw. You're the one who killed those women. You killed Mikie and I killed you. I'll be a hero, a hero."
Mike flicked a glance to Sam's open phone just behind Tomlinson. Sam had dialed 911 so maybe that meant the other sheriffs were listening in and would know the truth.
"She deserved it, the bitch deserved it! She thought she could make a fool of me. She could just walk away from me, _me_!"
"What about Barbara?" asked Sam, his hand was behind his back and Mike could see him creeping up his shirt to reach a blade at the small of his back.
"Who?"
"She was found behind the diner. Cass was found at the bus station."
"I-I never knew their names, but that doesn't matter! Truck stop slut, a runaway, nobodies! Who cares?"
"Miss Kramer wasn't a nobody!" shouted Mike. "And neither was my mom."
"Your mom - your mom was helping that slut! She knew she was leaving me! She was helping her, along with that fucking lesbian teacher. They were helping her!"
"My mom . . ."
"Michael, _shut up_!" Sam's voice barked. "Now, Deputy Tomlinson's right. He was being very smart. He killed those women so no one would know he killed his wife."
"That's right, that's absolutely right. . ." Tomlinson froze as a siren wailed in the distance. It got louder and louder. "How, how. . .?" he turned and saw the phone. With a roar of rage, he pumped the shotgun into the phone, shattering it to pieces.
As soon as Tomlinson turned, Sam left the knife where it was and lunged. He grabbed the barrel of the gun, forcing it down at the ground and shoving Tomlinson against one of the shed's supporting poles. Tomlinson cursed, trying to regain control of the gun.
"Run!" Sam ordered. Mike ran around to the front of the barn just as the other sheriff's car and two state trooper cars pulled up.
A female trooper pulled him aside as the others charged the tent. There were twelve shots. He counted. Twelve shots and then a terrible silence.
The officers came back walking very slowly. Sam came with them. There was blood on his face. Mike ran to him.
"I'm sorry," he cried, throwing his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," said Sam quietly, patting his shoulder.
The other officers said Tomlinson was dead.
Mike had thought about staying with his aunt and uncle, but then he thought about Sam being all alone. He sneaked away and hid in the backseat of the rental car.
Sam yelled at him and told him at the next town he was sending him home. Mike said he'd just run away again.
"Well, I'll just keep sending you back!"
"Yeah, right," jeered Mike.
_Twenty years into a possible future . . ._
In Lawrence, Kansas
"Seriously!" said the head of the construction crew to the foreman. "It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen. A whole car just buried in the ground right where the old crossroads was."
"Yeah?" the foreman yanked the tarp off the object. Bits of earth plopped off the vehicle. Underneath, the black paint gleamed like new. A large chunk of mud dropped from the side revealing mirror-finish chrome shaped into the name of the car: Impala.
"It shouldn't be this shiny," whispered the head of the crew. A tail light flickered red. The engine coughed and tried to turn over.
The foreman threw the tarp back over the car.
********
_Forty-eight hours and 1, 823 miles away_
The blond man used his keys to let himself into the house on the outskirts of San Francisco. He dropped his duffle on the floor in the hallway, hung his worn denim jacket on a wooden peg and followed the gleam of a lamp through the living room to the study, stepping with cat softness. An older man at the dark wood desk was scowling through his glasses at a paper he was reading. His clothing was comfortable professional attire. His jacket was on the back of the desk chair at the computer station to his right and a tie was hung over the neck of a stuffed raven on the bookcase behind him. His grey-touched dark hair curled over his collar. There was a pile of other papers next to his left elbow. He made a mark on what he was reading and added it to the pile. In almost the same move, he stood up, pointing a old-fashioned Beretta pistol at the blond.
"Hey, Dad," the blond grinned, his hands in his pockets as he leaned on the doorframe.
"Mike!" The older man lowered the weapon and snapped on the safety. "Don't _do_ that!" he slipped the gun back into its hiding place. "I thought you were coming back . . ." he looked up at the clock. "Oh, my God, it's Tuesday. I thought you were coming back this evening."
"I caught an earlier flight." Mike scrubbed his hand through his hair. "The wedding was okay. Asher found a great girl but. . . well. . ." he shrugged.
The older man nodded. "It was like you were looking through a window. You watched them be happy and couldn't really join in because you were watching the shadows they don't know are there." He stood up and stretched as Mike sighed and nodded. "Ugh, I've been sitting too long, but at least the papers are done." He pushed the glasses up on top of his forehead.
"Pop quiz for the demonology class?" Mike asked. It was well known among the students that Professor Sam Winchester's Demonology class was a tough course that they had to pay attention in and always be on their toes.
"Exorcism formulas, got some real creative spellings with the Latin." He packed up the papers into a leather bag.
"Did you eat tonight?"
"I think so." He rubbed his chin. "Maybe." He had come home from the Magic School at his usual time and couldn't remember if he had eaten before he sat down to grade the papers or if he had told himself he would grade a few and then eat.
"Well, I haven't," said Mike. "Let's get some Lucky Charms."
In the cozy breakfast nook, Sam poured Mike a bowl of cereal and then himself. Mike laughed as he poured the milk, because Sam's stomach growled.
"Okay, maybe I _didn't_ eat tonight," Sam shrugged. He squinted around the table, then felt the top of his head and pulled down his glasses. Mike shook his head and grinned. Michael had met both Winchester brothers when his brother had been targeted by an ancient evil called Shtriga. Two years later, the boy hunted him down when his mother died at the hands of a human monster. Sam had been going through a bad time and Mike's arrival stopped a downward spiral he didn't like to think about. Michael refused to go back and live with his aunt and uncle after they stopped the killer. He had sent Michael back twice and twice the boy ran away and found him again. By the third time, Mike had been calling him "Dad" for so long it felt right. There had never been any formal adoption, still Mike referred to himself as "Michael Winchester."
"There was something else, Dad." Mike retrieved his duffle from the hallway and pulled out a newspaper. "I saw it on a newsstand coming through O'Hare."
"Lawrence Journal World?" Sam opened the paper, "I haven't seen this in. . ." he froze, looking at the picture on the front page.
CAR FOUND AT CONSTRUCTION SITE
"It's the Impala, isn't it?" asked Mike.
"That's not where I buried it," whispered Sam, his face paling. He folded the paper, set in on the table and put his hands over his face a moment. "I have to call the others. . ."
"Not until you eat your Lucky Charms," Mike pointed at the bowl.
"Who’s taking care of who?" Sam muttered, but he smiled and picked up his spoon.
"So," Mike said around a mouthful, "do you think the world's ending?"
Sam snorted and turned on the radio for some background music. "People saw signs and portents in 1999; people were seeing signs and portents in 2012. I'll believe the world's ending when there's a sign _I_ can believe in."
"This just in!" said the news announcer over the radio. "In a bottom of the Ninth Grand Slam the Chicago Cubs have beat the Seattle Mariners to win the World Series by a score of 7 to 3. The Windy City is dancing in the streets. . ."
Sam stopped eating and stared at the radio.
*****
The six demon hunters were in the living room by mid day. In addition to Sam and Michael, they had been joined by the two Halliwell sons; Wyatt Halliwell was acknowledged to have tremendous supernatural power and the medieval broadsword he wore across his back was rumored to be the legendary Excalibur. His brother, Chris, made a name for himself with potions and healing and was every bit a master of white magic as Wyatt. The two members of the Izayoi clan had come from Japan five years ago after the Winchesters and the Halliwells went to Japan to stop a madman from opening a Hellgate. Master Izayoi Yukihiro and his niece, Izayoi Shuri were working with Sam to translate their family training manual into English. The Izayoi clan had been battling demons since roughly the eleventh century.
"Interesting," said Master Izayoi, steepling his fingers as he looked down at the photograph in the paper.
"Does this have anything to do with us helping to close the Hellgate that guy Rah was trying to open in Japan?" asked Wyatt.
Sam nodded grimly. "The last thing Rah said to me was that there was a place waiting for me in Hell. In the dungeon they were holding my brother in." He had to stare at the floor after he said it.
"If you will permit, Winchester-sensei, why would they go to such trouble?" asked Izayoi Shuri. She had brought out a tray and poured her uncle the first cup of tea. "It cannot have been easy for them to find and restore that special car."
"I don't know, Izayoi-san," Sam shook his head. "Other then that they want me to try and save my brother. And if I don't succeed, they have me where they want me: out of the way and not hunting them any more."
"And not interfering with whatever plans the demon plane may have for this side of the world," added Master Izayoi quietly. "Interesting."
"Sounds like something Aunt Phoebe would dream about," Chris mused, "She hasn't really dreamed about the end of the world since the Hellmouth in Sunnydale imploded."
"We're not saying it's going to be the end of the world; but when the Chicago Cubs win the World Series, _something_ big is going to happen," Mike argued.
"What should we do?" asked Wyatt.
Sam paced a moment. "I have a plan, but I would like to consult with all of you and Izayoi-sensei because I'm going to need your help."
*******
Chris walked out of the house into the small backyard that faced the hills. The last streaks of sunset were fading in the sky. He leaned against the side of the house.
Wyatt joined him after a moment. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.
"Do you really think it could be the end of the world?" Chris answered. "I mean if it is - shouldn't we be going into it without any regrets?"
"You going to tell Dad you're gay?"
"I can't. He'd never understand."
"He was a whitelighter. . ."
"He was also in the army."
Wyatt made a frustrated noise and smacked his fist on his hip. "I don't know if it's the end of the world or not," said Wyatt, "but you're not going to be any happier the more you keep lying to Dad and Mom . . .and to Mike."
"Mike has nothing to do with this!" Chris' face reddened.
"Then think about this. . . the more in turmoil you are, the more it's going to start affecting your powers." Wyatt glared at him. "And if the demons are trying to break out and cause trouble, _we_ need you to be the best you can be."
"Yeah," Chris looked at his feet. "Yeah."
******
Mike was upstairs in his room. He leaned on the windowsill and watched the Halliwell brothers talk below. He suddenly turned, one hand going for the knife at his belt.
"Hey," said Sam.
"Sorry." Mike dropped his hand to his side.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
"No," said Mike. He looked at Sam. Sam cocked his head to one side, raised his eyebrows and waited.
"I think I'm in love with Chris Halliwell," Mike blurted.
Sam's eyes widened. "Ok, I didn't expect that." He sat down on Mike's bed. "Oh, boy. Mike does Chris -- ?"
"I don't think he knows. Dad, what am I going to do?"
"I don't know." Sam stood up again. "I don't know." He pulled Mike to him in a tight hug.
"They could use this against us. I don't want to let you down," said Mike to his shoulder.
"You won't, Michael, that I'm sure of. You will _never_ let me down."
"My real dad was at the wedding," Mike broke the embrace and turned away, facing the closet with his hands clenched. "He - I barely knew him. Asher didn't even remember him. He was acting like he had something to do with it all when he hadn't even been there. I - he was drunk, and I told him I was glad I found a dad who was twice the man he was."
"Mike, you shouldn't have. . ." Sam gave a low sigh and shook his head. "I don't know what to say."
"Dad," Mike turned back, tears on his cheeks. "Can you say you love me?"
"Yes, Mike," Sam hugged him again. "Yes, I love you like you were my own son."
*********
_Maple Grove Cemetery, Lawrence Kansas_
Michael Winchester, dressed in a dark suit, waited a short distance away as his adopted father placed a bouquet at the single headstone of the three graves.
John Winchester - Beloved Father
Mary Winchester - Beloved Mother
Dean Winchester - Beloved Son and Brother
Sam was down on one knee, lost in his own thoughts. He heard Mike's phone ring.
"They're ready," he said quietly.
Sam crossed himself before he straightened. "So am I." He turned from the graves. "Let's go."
They went to the outskirts of town to the empty hulk of a department store. Outside, in the parking lot, the black car was suspended by a crane. On the lot, Wyatt stood guard with his sword as Chris held a peg in the center of a huge circle and at the end of the radius line, Master Izayoi carefully poured salt to finish off the circle. The circle of salt was within a five-pointed star. The star had been circled by a double ring marked with the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Outside that, a large square had been paced off and painted with symbols of the four cardinal points in Japanese Kanji.
To one side, near their vehicles, Izayoi Shuri was standing, her hands clasped, murmuring softly. She was barefoot, dressed in bright red loose pants and a snow-white tunic. She had a wooden sword in the sash at her waist and her long dark hair was gathered into a tail on the top of her head. She bowed when she saw him, but did not stop her soft murmur.
"All right, places, everyone," Sam called, tucking a hand-written journal under his arm. He entered one of the points with Izayoi Shuri directly behind him. Wyatt stepped to his left. Master Izayoi walked to his right. Michael took his point next to Wyatt, leaving Chris with the final point.
Chris' face was grim. Sam had taken him aside the night before and explained why he wanted him at that point. "I want Michael between you and Wyatt because if something goes wrong, one of you can get him out of it."
Sam cleared his throat. "We call the Forces of Light to this place where together we stand in a place that is both inside and outside of time."
Wyatt continued, "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to be a shield to us from the dark."
Michael added, "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to judge our hearts as we face the dark."
Chris swallowed and wet his lips. "We call the Forces of Light to this place, to give us strength against the dark."
Master Izayoi finished, “We call the Forces of Light, may they bless us with success as we do what must be done."
Sam signaled. The crane operator lowered the car into the circle. He swung the arm of the crane away, jumped from the cab and ran like hell.
Master Izayoi began to chant in Japanese as Sam opened the book and recited in Latin. The five points of the star seemed to flair with light.
The car motor revved and the gears shifted. The tires squealed as it tried to start off, but were blocked by the salt. It flashed its lights and rocked back and forth, the radio blaring.
"Quit your semblance and reveal your true form! Come forth!" Sam ordered.
A cloud of darkness curdled out of the hood of the car. It spread across the hood and shaped itself. It was a simulacrum of Dean lounging on the hood of the Impala like he was a spokesmodel. It was Dean from twenty years ago: young, handsome, with a cocky grin, and wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung dark-wash jeans.
"Hiya Sammy," it smirked. Its eyes glittered ruby red. "Finally decided to join the winning team?"
"You're not my brother." Sam's voice went flat. "Where is he?"
"Oh, Sammy, Sammy, what makes you so sure this isn't me?" It sat up slowly. "There wasn't a body, not even a whiff of hellhound in the neighborhood. What makes you so sure I didn't just decide to stop fighting and take what was offered. Lots of power, lots of chicks, no worries. . ." It slid off the hood and stood in front of the car. "No aches, no pains, no aging. I've got everything I ever wanted. You could have it too."
It shifted to the shape of Paige Matthews, wearing only a black lace teddy. "And that means _everything_, Sammy."
"I told you, this thing wouldn't know shit," sneered Michael.
"Oh, look, it's little Mikey." The simulacrum turned to him. "Now he's a big, bad demon hunter." It turned into a young Sam, still clad in the same lack of clothing. "And he just _loves_ his Daddy. . ." It blinked, looked a little closer. "No, I got that wrong. It's a Halliwell who turns his head." It turned into a half-naked Chris, then leered at the reddening original. "Oh, am I telling secrets?"
"Get to the point!" Wyatt snapped.
"Ah, the big brother," It drawled. "Now, he prefers something more. . ." It melted down into the form of Izayoi Shuri wearing her hair in a geisha's bun and a lace negligee, "exotic."
It took every ounce of training Sam had ever undergone not to turn his head. The demon hadn't mentioned Izayoi Shuri yet, so possibly his "ace in the hole" was working. The young woman was still murmuring the chant Master Izayoi said was a sutra to render her invisible to demons.
"And what do you know of me, Ayakashi-san?" asked Master Izayoi politely.
The simulacrum shifted back to Dean form. "Who the hell are you?"
"Ah, then you have not consulted with the Adept known as Rah?" he smiled. "How very unfortunate, he could have told you much."
"Oh, yeah? Like what? Like you're out of your league and out of your comfort zone, old man?"
"As you say," Master Izayoi folded his arms and bowed.
"I think Michael is right," Sam growled. "You don't know shit. You don't have Dean and all you are doing is wasting my time." He flipped the pages, "Right; get out of here." He began to chant a formula of exorcism.
"All right, all right," It hopped back on the hood of the Impala. "Take a look at what's left of your precious big brother."
Sam swallowed hard. The demon gestured and a circle of fire flared. A thin figure in ragged clothes, with long tangled grey hair and beard appeared next to the car. He looked around wildly. Sam's stomach flipped, he had so rarely seen such fear in Dean's eyes. Fear darkened into despair.
"No," he said. "No, come on. I stopped believing you long ago. This isn't happening; you're not real!" he pointed at each of the participants. "You're not real! You're not real! You're not real! You're not real! You're. . ." he finished the circle and looked at Sam. "Old. No, no, no, this is another trick! Another dream! Stop it!" He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sobbed. "Stop it!" He fell to his knees. "Just stop, just stop. . ."
"And he used to call _you_ a wuss," jeered the demon, lounging decoratively on the hood again. "Look at him. Just couldn't do it alone, could he? Couldn't live being the last Winchester so he thought going to hell would be the way out. Now, he can't even look at his little brother."
"Let him go," Sam's voice was hoarse and his eyes burned with wanting to cry. "Give him back."
"What do I get? Let me guess, you're going to offer yourself. Boy, you guys it's just like trading cards."
"No," said Sam. "I'm offering you _your_ life."
"Excuse me?" It hopped off the hood of the Impala. "Excuse me? You're threatening me? With what? I know your ever-so-precious Colt is back in San Francisco in the Magic School's Library. You've got nothing that can threaten me."
"You sure about that?" Wyatt unsheathed the broadsword. It glowed with a silver aura.
"Come on then!" it turned to Wyatt. "Step inside that circle and let's get it on, Halliwell."
"Don't do it, Wyatt," Sam warned. "This is my fight."
"Your fight, old man? Since when?"
"Since now," Sam stepped forward, and raked a break in the salt with his foot. "Or are you as chicken shit as you look?"
The Dean face twisted into something inhuman as it lunged for the broken area.
"On abira unkyan sharakutan. Honor the prayers within, O Multiple Gods that descended in the past to worthy persons. Bind the ogre, put down the evil and extinguish the hundred demons of the core. Do it now!" said Master Izayoi. He hurled a square of calligraphy marked paper. It burst into flames as it touched the demon. Sam stepped aside, letting Izayoi Shuri step forward. The wooden sword she carried glowed with a blue aura in her hands.
The demon was a writhing shape of shadow. She glanced towards Wyatt, who nodded. They struck almost simultaneously. Blue flame and white flame crossed at right angles and the shadow shattered into screaming fragments that flared and vanished.
The black car disappeared. It was an Impala in the circle, but it was a battered and rusted hulk that might have been blue once, but was certainly not black. The ragged figure remained. He uncovered his face and looked around. "What the hell did you guys do to my car?" he shouted.
Sam wanted to run to him, but he had to wait until the magic circle was dispersed.
"Dean!" he finally ran forward, arms out. "Dean! It's Sam."
"No," he brought his hands up in a guard position. "No. This is another trick. You've done this before; Sammy comes to the rescue but the next morning I wake up back in Hell. I stopped buying it!"
"Dean," Sam swallowed. "Dean, it's real." He felt the tears start and could not stop them.
"No," he backed away. "You cut it out! Sammy hasn't saved me. Sammy never saves me. It's just another one of your god-damned tricks!"
Chris stepped up behind Dean and lightly touched the side of his neck with glowing hands. Sam caught him as he fell forward and went to his knees, cradling him in his arms.
"What did you do?" he shouted.
"I put him to sleep." Chris helped Sam lift Dean in his arms. "It will be easier on both of you."
"I will probably thank you later," Sam closed his eyes. "I just want to get him home."
"Right," Chris nodded. He turned. Michael immediately avoided his eyes and moved to help Sam.
Wyatt came over. "We've cleared enough of the circle. Let's get back to the Professor's house."
"Right," said Chris again. They joined hands with the others and orbed in a streak of light back to San Francisco.
*******
Sam stood at the door of the guest room. The four young people had taken it on themselves to wash off, dress in pajamas and settle the still sleeping Dean into the clean bed. The rags they took away to destroy. Sam had an armful of his own clothes. The pants would be long, but the rest might fit. Dean was so much thinner than he remembered. He set the clothes on the night stand.
There were lines on Dean's face, deeper, harsher than his own. Izayoi-san's deft and delicate use of a straight razor had revealed the strong chin and mouth he remembered. Sam reached out and gently smoothed some of the wild hair away from Dean's face. Michael had done the best he could to cut back the tangled mess with scissors.
"Well, Dean," he whispered, "what do I do now?"
Dean murmured unhappily in his sleep and turned away.
"What do I do now?" Sam repeated.
Master Izayoi was waiting politely in the hallway when he came out.
"Are you well, Winchester-san?"
"Please, Izayoi-sensei, I've told you, you can call me Sam," Sam rubbed his forehead.
The smaller man nodded. "I think, though, I shall call you Samuel-san. Sam-san is far too much like a brand of electronics. You may call me Yukihiro-san, if you wish."
"I'm honored, Yukihiro-san," Sam looked back into the room. "Yukihiro-san, are there any legends in your clan of someone rescued from Hell?"
Yukihiro shook his head, grimly, "Not after so long, Samuel-san," he hesitated. "Samuel-san, I must be honest. I am not sure that your brother may have been returned from his captivity completely sane."
"I'm afraid of that too," Sam swallowed.
"Samuel-san, I would speak with you in private."
Sam paused at the head of the stairs. He could hear Chris, Mike, Wyatt and Izayoi Shuri in quiet conversation below. He hesitated. "I think, we'd best go to my room, if you don't mind."
Yukihiro bowed slightly. Sam went in first and straightened a few items to make the room more tidy. He sat on the bed and gave him the chair at the desk. Yukihiro remained standing.
"I was glad the demon did not know me," he removed his jacket. "Because this is something I would rather tell you before it is used against you and the others."
"You know that as Miko and the bearer of the peach wood sword, Shuri will not be giving children to the clan. That is why our elders let her leave Japan. As for myself," he unbuttoned his shirt, turning around to expose his back.
An intricate tattoo of dancing cranes among pine branches and cattails had been etched into his skin. It stretched from shoulder to shoulder and from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his pants.
"It's beautiful," Sam meant it. He could also respect the amount of time and pain it had taken to acquire the artwork.
"For more than twelve years I lived with the man who bore a tattoo just like mine," said Yukihiro softly. "Cranes in our culture are a symbol of commitment and fidelity." He bowed his head. "We defied both our families and were cast out by them. It did not matter for a long time, but then he died, Samuel-san and I was alone and lost and . . . vulnerable." He drew a deep breath. "I met another man; a man who made me feel like I had come back to life, but in reality, he was using me to reach the secrets of our clan. . ." he hesitated.
"To open a Hell gate," Sam finished.
"And his name was Rah Levi," Yukihiro held the shirt before him as he turned to face Sam.
"Rah is dead."
"Are you so sure, Samuel-san? He fell into the gate he was attempting to create but, indeed, are you sure he is dead? Because I am not."
******
"Izayoi-san," Wyatt followed Izayoi Shuri into the kitchen. "Izayoi-san, I want to say I am sorry."
"Sorry? For your fantasy of me? Halliwell-oniisan, I find it very flattering," she smiled at him, "but, while it is flattering, I am what is called Miko, Halliwell-oniisan, Winchester-sensei says this is something like what you would call a nun," she indicated the wooden sword she still wore. "This sword is named Momo-ryuu - the peach dragon. It was carved from sacred peach wood long ago and to wield it I have had to take certain oaths, even as you have had to take certain oaths to wield the blade that _you_ carry."
Wyatt started to say something, then stopped and bit his lip. "I understand, Izayoi-san."
"Shuri," she said softly. "My name is Shuri-san." She turned quickly and began to fill the teakettle.
"My name is Wyatt," he said.
"I know," she whispered. "Do you know if Winchester-sensei has some snack cakes in the cupboard?" she asked aloud.
"I'll look," he said.
*******
Michael walked out into the backyard. His eyes strayed up to where the light was on in his father's window.
Chris came out and stood beside him. "Does he know?"
"I told him before we went to Kansas," Michael looked away, feeling his face growing warm. "I was afraid the demon would use it against us."
"What did he say?" Chris sounded almost desperate.
"That he knew I would never let him down," Michael was able to face Chris. "I asked him if he could say he loved me, and he did. He loves me as if I was his own son."
"You are so lucky," Chris shook his head. "God, I don't know who would have the bigger fit; my dad because he's ex-army or my mom because of the Halliwell name and the Halliwell destiny."
"I'm sorry," was all Michael could say.
"So am I," Chris looked at his feet, then looked up into Michael's eyes.
Michael closed the distance between them and kissed him.
******
Sam followed the smell of coffee from the automatic pot down the stairs. All was quiet in the house, with the four young people getting extra sleep and Master Izayoi out meditating in the backyard.
He entered the kitchen and froze. Dean, dressed in one of Sam's long sleeved shirts and pants that were rolled up at the bottom, was sitting at the table staring into a bowl of cereal. He picked up the spoon and fed himself another mouthful.
"They don't have Lucky Charms in Hell," he said quietly as he chewed. "They feed you. They even make it look pretty good; but it's never anything you can enjoy." He put down the spoon and stood up. "Sammy?" he asked cautiously. "Am I really back?"
"Yeah, Dean, you're really back," Sam smiled.
Dean's chin trembled and he stumbled into Sam's arms, sobbing on his brother's shoulder.
"Welcome back," Sam whispered, "Welcome back."