Amria Chapter Three
The past is never dead, it is not even past.
~William Faulkner~
es
Dear Diary,
It’s a curse.
It must be. Who would want to know everything? Who wants to know the past, the present and the future? I’m tired of looking destiny in the eye. I want to be young and free and careless. I want the anticipation and the consequences of not knowing. Damn it, I wanna to live.
Yet, I know how long I will live, what will happen while I live and how it will end. I know the shape of the moon and the brightness of the sky of the very day my soul will leave my body.
Nobody should know so much and so little at the same time. How can I learn and experience things without making mistakes?
Ma calls it a gift, Bella is jealous of what I’ve got it and wish it never happened.
Sophia
“Thanks again for coming guys.” Sam said for the fifth time in the last hour.
Bobby had picked Missouri up on his way to meet them. They arrived in time to find him unconscious. Good job too, Sam was pretty shaken up after the last episode. It was Bobby who cleaned the new cuts and Missouri who had re-dressed his burns. Sam hadn’t left his side since though.
His brother cleared his throat and wriggled in his chair uncomfortably.
Dean may have been in bad shape but he wasn’t blind and he noticed the subtle tale-tale signs, he could tell when something was up with his brother. Especially when Sam was being weirder than usual. It was the power of being an older brother. And that’s when it hit him. He knew that look, the pinched facial muscles, rapid intake of breath and the fidgeting.
Dean narrowed his eyes, watched Sam intently for a few long seconds to be sure.
After a few minutes Dean had seen enough. He pulled himself up, “Sammy?” He signalled him closer with a subtle jerk of the head.
“What?” Sam answered, a little too quickly.
“What the fuck, dude? Are you five?” Dean spoke with a low tone. “You do know the bathroom is less than ten steps away?” He didn’t make a scene about it, for whatever reason Sam was being skittish, he wasn’t about to make it public to Bobby and Missouri.
Dean shook his aching head, regretted it instantly and winced.
Sam opened his mouth to protest, instead it come out as a half hearted huff of disbelief. He expressively placed his hands onto his hips, looked like he was about to lay into him but deflated seconds later. Sam sat on the opposite bed and hunched over his knees. “Every time I leave you alone for even a minute, something happens to you.” He said. It was whiny and childish and spoken so low, Dean thought he’d imaged it.
Sam rubbed his face lethargically and continued. “I’m tired, dude.” There were dark circles under his eyes. The sleep deprivation was taking its toll.
“I ain’t gonna lie to you, Sammy. I’m scared shittless about this whole thing. And I can honestly say I’m in no hurry to be alone till we figure this shit out. But Bobby and Missouri are here. I’ll be fine.” Dean picked up a used tissue and chucked it at him. “Do us as all a favour, grab a shower, you need it.” He managed a half hearted belly laugh. “Maybe even try get some sleep.” He wasn’t done. “Oh and how ‘bout you use the bathroom like a big boy?”
“Jerk!” Sam picked up one of his T-shirts, scrunched it up and lobbed it at him.
Dean went to catch it but missed. It landed on his head. “Hey, I’m wounded here.”
“Right, I forgot. You’re a wounded jerk. Do me a favour and try not to die while I’m gone.” The statement stung like salt on an open wound. The low-spirited joke, for the Winchesters, was an everyday fucking reality.
Sam got up and strolled to his duffel. He stalled a little while picking out a shirt that he juggled in his hands along with a clean pair of jeans. He eventually took a hesitated step towards the small room, paused, made it look like he’d forgotten something, turned back, shook his head and continued back towards the bathroom. Dean hadn’t seen his brother act like this for years. When Sam finally reached the bathroom door, he stole one last look before he closed it.
Dean was more than thankful for Bobby and Missouri, things would have been a lot worse and more complicated without them.
Missouri appeared at his bed out of nowhere. She wordless motioned him to move over so she could sit beside him.
“I can feel it.” She said.
“It’s as if its you, but there’s two of you and the other one…” She shook her head, shivered. “I don’t think this is your usual witchcraft, this entity is part of you, Dean. Whoever’s got the Mojo to pull off that kind of magic has been around for a long time. It’s not magic I’ve seen in a while.” She continued to shake her head. “It’s not magic,” she mumbled.
Missouri settled closer to him, took his hand into hers and closed her eyes. Bobby watched intently from his seat.
Her hands were soft, warm and inviting. He wished he could have said the same for his pillow. For about a minute it was silent with only a hushed sound of running water from the bathroom and Missouri’s light breathing. She smelled of something familiar.
“Oh, thank you, honey. It’s primrose.” She smiled before re-closing her eyes. She returned to her focused expression.
It could have been five, maybe ten minutes before anyone spoke.
“Amria.” Missouri spat, she immediately let go of his hand, her eyes wide, pupils dilated with an expression cold with fear.
“Amria?” Dean repeated.
“Curse,” she mumbled nervously as she stood. “A Gypsy curse.”
“We’re completely screwed.” Sam announced.
That about summed it up.
Dean looked up at him, pale and silent. And it stayed silent for a couple more hours before it was broken by Bobby.
“Bingo.” Bobby said, dropping his pen to the table.
“What?”
“What you got, Bobby?”
“Well…good news or bad news?” Bobby replied.
Dean rubbed his eyes lethargically; he didn’t think the huge stinking pile of bad news following him around could get any bigger. Apparently he thought wrong.
“Good.” Sam responded, coming out of the small kitchenette with a glass of cold water and bottle of pills. It was times like these that he really did think his brother could read his mind. Dean shook out two white pills and washed them down with a large gulp as Bobby broke it down to them.
“I found the curse. It’s a very old, very dark and complex. Definitely not one used lightly. This dates from way back when gypsy tellers openly used dark magic on others. These curses always come with a hefty price to pay, so like I said they are not used lightly.”
Bobby adjusted his cap and continued.
“Whoever cursed you had to sacrifice something pretty big to pull this off. We’re not talking dead animals or any amounts of money, we’re talking souls.”
“I thought you said this was good news?” Dean asked.
Sam glanced at him blankly and looked at Bobby who shook his head as he went on.
“Well… we know what this is and that’s a start to help us track down who cursed you. But that brings me on to the bad news; the one who places the curse is the only one who can break it.”
“We’re so fucking screwed.”
There was a clock somewhere in the room, cutting time to tiny pieces with a serrated blade. Dean had only noticed it now.
His frustration and desperation building with every tick and every tock.
“We’re back to square one.” Sam announced. He leaned back in his chair and threw his pen to the table.
“How ‘bout you cut the bull, boy and come clean.” Missouri was up and walking towards him like a charging bull.
Dean opened his mouth and closed it immediately.
“I’m not a violent person, honey, but if you push me I will be forced to make you talk by any means necessary.”
By any means necessary, Missouri meant scooping out of his head, feet first and au naturel. Nothing could touch the headache she’d caused.
"Best get talking, boy."
"Okay, okay." Dean pinched his nose, the headache sparked into action.
2004
“Baxt.” Sophia ran her fingers through Dean’s hair.
She read his confused expression. “It’s Rom for ‘meant to be’.” She said, rested he her head on one hand. Her long brown hair barely covering her bare chest.
“You and I were meant to cross paths, you know that? I may not have my gift anymore but even I can see we are two lost souls, magnets drawing towards each other.” She was about to continued but she stopped and shook her head, let her chin fall against her chest as she broke eye contact.
Dean pulled her chin up and smiled at her. She had tears in her eyes but she smiled back.
“Thank you.” She said.
“For what?” Dean brushed away some hair that fell on her face.
She sighed playfully and poked him in the forehead. “For the amazing sex. You can be so silly sometimes, you know that?”
“Come!” Sophia got up, gathered up her dress and slipped into it in one quick motion. “Don’t just stare at me, get dressed! I wanna show you something, hurry.” She bent and grabbed her underwear, along with Dean’s jeans, which she threw at him.
“Okay, okay. What’s the rush anyway?”
“I don’t want to change my mind.”
“About?”
“Come with me and you’ll find out.” She giggled and pulled him towards her by hooking a finger into his jeans.
Dean was on the tail end of Sophia’s frantic hurry. She whizzed through trees, hopped over small bushes and didn’t look back once. She didn’t need to; Dean had no problem keeping up. When she suddenly stopped in the middle of some clearing, he crashed into her from behind.
“I haven’t shown what I’m about to show you to anyone before. No body in this whole world.” She pulled off a hair tie around her wrist with her teeth and drew her hair back into a high ponytail. Sophia got onto her knees and dug her fingers into the ground, began digging. Dean stood and took an unsteady step back, he watched in silence.
Sophia finally pulled out a soiled wine bottle, corked on one end, and inside it were what looked like rolled sheets of paper.
“I was fourteen when it happened. I knew straight away something wasn’t right. Like something had been taken away from me. I’d lost part of me. It was painful to bare at first.”
“How did it happen?” Dean straighten up and watched her intently.
She shrugged and looked sad for a moment. “Some people get jealous, they can be spiteful. To this day I’ve never known who did it. They tore it out of me with a jagged blade. I have fragments of thoughts…premonitions. But its useless most the time, they may as well have left me blind.”
“I’m sorry.” Dean replied.
“Don’t be. What’s done is done.” She sniffed and rubbed her watery her eyes. “All I have left is my family…I want you to meet them.”
“What? No. I don’t do families.” Dean backed away, shook his head.
“Come on, my sister will be the only one home. She’s great, you’ll love her.”
“Sophia, I don’t think that’s such a…” She kissed him hard, pulled on his bottom lip as she drew away.
Documented reference on gypsy magic was sparse and hard to find. Sam was beginning to think that this played a part to the mystery of it all. Rom travellers are close knit family folk who are loyal to one another. Everything was passed down through word of mouth and traditions and any literature that was written was in Rom. Most of what he could find in English was hearsay, speculated and driving him crazy. Sam pushed back from the table with force, stood with his hands behind his head.
“Fuck.”
Dean looked up at him. When Dean finally came clean, told them he’d been involved with Sophia, it started to slowly piece together but there were still gaps.
“I’d like to chat with some locals, maybe hit the library.” Sam announced.
“I’ll come with you.” Bobby replied.
Bobby gave Missouri a look that he’d seen before. It looked like Missouri was planning to make sure Dean had bared all. Part of Sam wanted to stay with Dean. The other was itching to fix this before it got any worse.
“Dean, you want anything?” Sam asked as he checked Dean’s clip and placed it back on to the bedside table.
Missouri dug into her bag, took out a 9mm semi-automatic and loaded it. “We’ll be just fine, gentlemen, you boys are not the only ones packing.” She smiled a wicked smile. Sam wondered why they didn’t involved Missouri more in their hunts. At the best of times Missouri could be intimidating. Missouri with gun was plain scary.
Dean looked at him with wide eyes. Sam shrugged at his brother and slipped into his jacket.
“Hey, guys.” Dean spoke just as they were at the door. He looked at Missouri who beamed at him. “Don’t be long.” He said.
Bobby chuckled as they closed the door behind them.
“Dean! Sit.” Missouri patted a spot beside her and waited patiently as he laboriously made his way from the bathroom.
Dean dragged a hand across his face. He took a deep breath and wordless walked over to the bed Missouri was on, plonked himself down next to her.
“He came to me straight after.” Her voice was soft.
“What the…” Missouri raised her finger and shushed him before he could complete the sentence.
“Best watch your mouth, young man. You asked, I answered.” She stated.
“I didn’t ask shit, Missouri. You promised you wouldn’t go poking around in my head again.”
“I did, Dean. But you see, this whole psychic thing? It doesn’t have an on-off switch. I can tune it out sometimes but it's not always as easy that. Boy, I’m sick of hearing your drone, its giving me a headache. So listen up…Please.” She inhaled deeply and smiled. “Besides…you need to here this.”
Dean sighed, defeated.
“That night he arrived he was a drunken mess. True image of a broke man.” Missouri swivelled and faced Dean. “I asked him you know? I said, where’s your boy, John, where's Dean? And you know what that fool replied?” She paused for the briefest moment and continued. “He’s safe. That’s what he slurred in response.” She sighed and took Dean’s hand. “He didn’t even make into the door before he fell to his knees and cried like a baby. Cried himself to sleep. You Winchesters never learn.”
Missouri rubbed his hand affectionately.
“It didn’t matter what I said to him, he was convinced he was doing the right thing by you boys. Him keeping his distance was his way of protecting you. Now I know that don’t make a blind bit of difference to you now. What’s done is done. What I can say though is that sometimes the people we love the most are the same ones who can hurt us just as much. You’re Daddy never meant to leave you the way he did, Dean. At the time your father was in no shape to hunt, he wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking period. I’m not telling you this to make excuses for him. I’m just letting you know how it went down. After he cleaned himself up, went easy on the drink, he came looking for you.”
Dean shook his head and stood.
“The last hunt you boys were on…before he left, he told me what happened.”
“Did he now?” Dean knew Missouri was reading him again, he fought hard to clear his head.
“Stop it, Missouri.”
“Is that what it is? You think it was your fault, don’t you?”
Dean started get up slowly, bit down against the pain. He would have gone to the bathroom if it was far enough to get away from her.
“Dean Winchester, will you sit down. You’re driving me crazy. Just so you know, the more you try to ‘not to think’ the more I hear you. Loud and clear. So do us both a favour, calm the hell down, quit cursing at me, boy and let me finish.”
“Dean, your father was drunk out of his head. That’s why the hunt went downhill, had nothing to do with you. When you got hurt…he knew he had to sort himself out.”
Missouri got up, brushed down her skirt and placed her hands on her hips then shook her head again. “I have the perfect thing for you.” She moved towards the table where her bags lay. She began rummaging through them, pulled out a silver rectangle shaped tin.
She brought it over, and sat next to him. “This is my special batch.” She opened the tin, the exotic and familiar scent hit him instantly. Dean's eyes widened, dumbfounded, he watched her prep. She winked at him. “Well? What are you waiting for? We haven’t got long till they come back.” She handed Dean the lighter, placed the roll up in her mouth.
"Missouri, you are one crazy, lady."
“Drink?” Sam held a frosted beer bottle towards him. On a hot night in an enclosed room without so much as a wisp of wind outside, Dean was close to breaking point.
A cold shower would have been the best option except he’d already done that an hour ago.
“I gotta get outer here, man. I need some air -some space. Damn it, I need alone time.” He pressed his palms into clenched eyes. His growing frustration etched on his unshaven jaw line.
Sam made a face, his eyes widened. “Alone time, alone time?”
“Not that kind of alone time you perv. I just can’t stare at these four walls anymore, I’m going stir-crazy, dude.”
“You know the score, Dean, till we figure this shit out you’re not going anywhere alone.” Sam sighed when he didn’t respond. A coat appeared on his lap. “Come on,” Sam announced. “We’re going for a walk.”
“A walk?”
“You wanted air, right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah but-“
“Good. Quit stalling. Grab you’re coat. I’ll let Missouri and Bobby know.”
Dean stood, slowly slipped into his jacket and walked towards the door. He was still pretty banged up but he could walk. As he approached the door, he wanted to slam it in his shut, march into the Impala and drive until the tank was empty but Sam was right. It wasn’t an option. Instead he picked a direction and started walking.
He was sure it was Sam tailing behind him. The steps were light and hardly audible but Sam was as good as, if not better than most hunters when it came to stealth. He didn’t turn around, didn’t need to, he wasn’t ready to head back and he didn’t feel much like talking so he kept his direction and pace.
A cool wind came up from behind.
Dean felt lancing pressure, the press of cold metal against his skin. He grimaced, wasn't sure if it was because of the building pain in his head or that fact that Sam was nowhere in sight.
The man who looked like him snorted, pulled back for a moment before reconnecting the weapon with enough force to make his vision blur; the sore point on his head pulsated angrily.
“Sammy can be such pain in the ass, huh?”
“If you’ve hurt him…” Dean was sickened by the frailty of his own voice.
“He put up a good fight. He’s in good form. I'd say we taught him well. But his weakness is you.” The man tutted.
A blooded hand appeared in front of his face, it made his heart race against his chest.
“What'd you do to him?”
“This is all your doing.”
“Fuck …he doesn’t deserve this. Let him go, take me.”
The guy sighed.
“You disappoint me, Dean.” The gun disconnected for a few seconds and it was all he needed.
Dean ducked, delivered an elbow into the chest behind him and made it to the cover of a tall tree.
“Sam!”
Dean ran as fast as his injured body would let him, he ignored the burn in this legs, and the pressure in chest.
He found Sam collapsed against a tree, bleeding heavily from a visible cut on his head. He was disoriented and clearly concussed.
“Can you walk?” Dean crouched, pulled Sam’s face to meet his.
Dean took a fist full of Sam's shirt and got him upright. They moved a few steps before his brother froze.
Sam used his shoulder to balance as he leaned forward and threw up. Dean placed a hand across Sam's back, tried his best to make sure he didn't topple forward. They both wavered until the nauseous bout was over. Sam was shaking so much Dean was worried they wouldn't make it back.
That's when it hit him hard.
He was screwed, Sam was going down with him and they were no closer to a solution.
"Sammy, stay with me a little longer." Dean wiped a trail of blood from Sam's face. His brother sagged against him and his knees buckled.
"Son of bitch." He cried out as they hit the ground, Dean made sure Sam didn't smack his head on the tarmac.
A set of lights appeared in the distance, lights that made his shoulders relax. "Thank God."
The Impala steered closer to the curb. "Fancy seeing you boys here." Missouri called out from a wound down window.
Bobby opened the back door, went straight for Sam, down on one knee. Then Bobby waited patiently for him to release the death grip on Sam's arm before placing his brothers arm over his shoulder. "Let's go, kid."
Dean didn't move. He stayed on his aching knees.
"Dean, don't make me come after you."
Dean clenched his fist and released, he took a deep breath and stood.
~
Chapter Four
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