Destinations - Part 2, Supernatural, NC-17, Broken!Verse
Fandom: Supernatural, Broken!Verse (All of Broken is Here)
Title: Destinations, Part 2
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, John, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Gabe (OMC)
Rating: NC-17, for ongoing themes and sex
Word Count: 6486
Summary: Sam sends Dean and Caleb after John, and tries to deal with the changes he can't understand. Gabe gets teased a little. John finds himself in trouble.
A/Ns & Warnings: M/M brotherly incest. This continues some very dark stuff...the psychological fall out of demon possession, rape, murder and dark magic. It also heralds a serious return of the supernatural to the Winchester boys.
Dean woke to the feeling of Sam glomped onto his back, his dick stiff with morning wood and pushing suggestively against Dean’s thigh. Last he knew he’d been in bed alone. He pushed his hips back and Sam groaned. “Sleeping,” Sam mumbled.
“Not anymore.” Dean wiggled against him and Sam gasped.
“Not fair.”
“You’re the one with his dick pressing against me.” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder to where Sam’s face moved against Dean’s neck.
“Not my fault.”
Dean shook his head. Sam’s eyes were still closed, but when Dean reached for his cock they shot open. “Dean!”
“Sam?” Dean smirked as Sam shivered, then his hands were pushing at Dean’s.
“We’re at Pastor Jim’s.”
“You have a good memory.” Dean stroked Sam’s cock and Sam moaned, his eyes slipping closed before he opened them quickly.
“It’s…Dean…not here.”
“Why not here?” Dean asked, not stopping his stroking.
Sam’s hips bucked forward and Dean knew that as much as he might protest, Sam wasn’t going to stop either. “Want you to fuck me Sammy.” Dean whispered, letting go of Sam long enough to pull his boxers down.
Sam’s hand slid down Dean’s back and over the now naked round of his ass. “Dean…it’s…you have to be quiet.”
“I can be quiet.” Dean said, rolling so that he was more on his stomach. He gasped a little when Sam’s finger entered him. “Faster Sammy…faster.”
“Calm down.” Sam hissed, though he worked a second finger in. “You got any lube?”
Dean fumbled around on the floor for his jeans, grunting as Sam worked his fingers in and out. Finally his hand closed on denim and he brought them up to fish the tube out of his back pocket. He tossed it over his shoulder and Sam rolled his eyes. “Should have known.”
Sam’s fingers left him, then came back slick and cool and it was only a few seconds before his weight shifted and Dean felt the thick head of Sam’s cock at his entrance. “Yeah Sammy…come on…”
He sank in slow and Dean hissed as he was filled and Sam’s weight lay against him. He pushed back and Sam’s hands gripped his waist as he pulled back out. There was a moment of panic, but Dean pushed it away. He concentrated on the feeling of Sam, the familiarity of his smell and his touch, his breath against Dean’s neck. The moment passed and Dean adjusted his position so Sam’s next stroke hit his prostate. “God…Sam….go harder…”
Sam grunted in response, but his next thrust was harder, and Dean felt his own cock twitch in response. “Dean…” He felt Sam stiffen, his fingers bruising against hip bones, then the rush of come.
Dean’s cock was hard and begging, and he was prepared to handle it himself. Sam slipped out and Dean rolled over, his hands reaching for his cock, but to his surprise, Sam slapped his hands away and he grinned up at Dean. It had been a while since Sam had been willing to even touch Dean’s dick…and even then, Dean knew he did it only to convince him that everything was okay.
Sam looked like he meant it, but Dean had a niggling doubt that this was a show for his benefit, proof that Sam was okay, that the exorcism had worked.
Sam licked up the underside without losing eye contact. His eyes sparkled. Dean groaned as he slipped his lips around the head, his tongue playing with the slit just before he slid that heat down the length of Dean’s dick and back up. “Fuck, Sammy…”
He sucked hard and Dean bucked up off the bed, thrusting deeper than he meant to. Dean stiffened and looked, but Sam’s eyes were closed and he didn’t seem bothered by it, just adjusted his position and opened his throat. Dean’s eyes rolled closed as Sam swallowed and purred and his one hand squeezed Dean’s balls. That was it…Dean thrust up again and came. Sam sucked and swallowed and followed Dean back to the bed, licking up to the tip.
Sam frowned at him. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?”
“That look…like I grew horns or something.”
Dean shook his head. He was concerned, but didn’t know it was showing on his face. He pushed Sam and sat up. “I don’t have a look. You’re imagining things.” He grimaced as he stood. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m just hungry…and now my ass hurts.”
Sam snorted at that. “Your fault. You’re the one begging me to fuck you.”
“You were the one with the hard-on poking me.” Dean found his jeans again and pulled them on. “I’m hungry.” He wanted to change the subject, wanted this pretending to be okay, to be real.
“You stink like sex. Go shower. I’ll make breakfast.”
Sam got up from the bed, and pulled on the jeans he’d left at the end of the bed, but froze at the door. “Dad.”
Dean turned. “What about Dad?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
Sam shook his head, the look on his face like he was trying to trace some elusive memory that was just out of reach. “I woke up…dreams.” He rubbed his face and shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s just…gone.”
Dean pushed past him, running barefoot through the hall and out the side door. The Impala was gone. Dean scratched the back of his head and turned to look at Sam. “Maybe he just…”
Sam shook his head. He was certainly. Dean stormed back to him. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you, Sam? First Gabe, then the room…now this?”
He seemed dazed, but he blinked when Dean grabbed him. “I don’t know Dean. I just don’t know.”
“Well…we need to figure out where he-“
“I think it’s obvious where.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Go shower, I’ll make breakfast and wake Jim and Caleb. Dad’s got a head start, but you should be able to catch up with him before he does anything stupid.”
Dean squinted at his brother. It was clear Sam had already determined he wasn’t going with him. Whether that was because Sam thought he should stay behind or because he just didn’t want to argue with Dean over it, he couldn’t say.
Sam was changed, that much was obvious…but Dean still wasn’t certain what that change was all about. Dean slammed through his shower and getting dressed, forgoing shaving all together to get into the kitchen where Jim and Caleb were yawning their way through a cup of coffee while Sam put the finishing touches on eggs and toast for everyone.
“So we’re sure he’s gone?” Jim asked as Dean sat.
“Car’s gone.”
“Half your weapons stash is gone too.” Sam said as he set plates on the table. “He’s armed, heavily armed.”
“What the hell is he thinking, going off alone?” Dean asked through clenched teeth.
“He’s thinking that you boys have been through enough and that he’s doing his job. Finally.” Jim answered, picking up his fork. He closed his eyes briefly and when he looked up all eyes in the room were on him. “He feels incredibly guilty about how it went down before. About not being the one to kill the man responsible. He wants to be the one who sees this through.”
Dean shook his head. Stupid. Damn, stubborn Winchester pride. He didn’t say it out loud, but from the look Sam gave him, he didn’t really have to. “It doesn’t matter what he was thinking. You’ll just have to go after him.” Sam said, his eyes locked on Dean’s. “You and Caleb,” he amended, glancing aside at Caleb who looked up at him.
“What about me?” Gabe asked suddenly from the doorway.
Sam shook his head. “I need you here. We’re going to figure out what it is they’re up to on that ranch.”
Dean watched Sam set another plate on the table for Gabe. There was more, something Sam wasn’t telling him. Something he wasn’t going to say in front of the others.
“We’ll follow them once we’ve got a few answers,” Sam continued, leaning against the counter. He turned and caught Dean’s eye again. “You have to keep him safe, keep him alive…until Gabe and I come.”
He didn’t like the look in his brother’s eye. Like he was sending Dean off on an impossible mission…like he expected to never see him again. Dean closed his mind to that thought and dug into his eggs. The sooner they finished, the sooner they’d get on the road.
Marion didn’t have a lot of cover. Only the post office and tiny grocery store really made it a town. It was a loose length of ranches and farms stretched out in a hub around the single building at a four-way stop that sported the local bar, that doubled as a meeting hall, the grocery store and government offices.
The Impala stood out like the proverbial sore thumb as John drove past the building and headed west. It rumbled and roared as he pushed it past the ending of the paved road toward the ranch where his quarry waited.
He had no real plan. Despite his warning to Dean about heading off after these men without one, John had come, needing action…needing to shake off the cobwebs of the last months…he was tired of waiting.
He saw the buildings rise up out of the horizon, just like the photos Gabe had taken. He knew that somewhere on this property were the men…the last remaining remnants of those who had broken his boys.
A cold fury was building inside him. It leeched into his blood as he drove past the cheery entrance to the property, with its wrought iron sign reading “Arlish Farms” and its sunflowers. He clenched his teeth and fought the desire to just turn down that dirt lane, barrel through that gate, and ram the car into the nearest building.
That would only get him killed. No. He had to be smarter than that. Had to think like his prey. Like a hunter gone terribly wrong.
“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked as he threw his duffle into the back of Caleb’s car.
“Not really, no.” Sam said.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Dean didn’t ask it. Sam didn’t deny it. He was silent for a minute, his eyes on the ground.
Finally he seemed to decide something and nodded. “Promise me you won’t freak out.”
“I’ll try.”
Sam nodded again. “Okay. Something is happening to me. I need to stay here and figure it out, or I won’t be any help to you.”
“Something? What something?” Dean reached for his hand and Sam licked his lips.
“The dreams. They’re more than…That night, after the exorcism? I saw the thing that attacked Gabe. I saw him get hurt. I knew they were coming.” He played with a stone with the toe of his shoe. “I knew Dad was gone before I even came upstairs. I’ve seen…other things.”
Dean crossed his arms, his patience waning. “Sam. You’ve always had an overactive imagination.”
Sam chuckled and looked up finally. “And the bedroom? Was that my overactive imagination?”
“You did it. You just don’t remember.” Dean felt his stomach drop.
“I don’t know which is worse, believing that I could do damage like that without remembering, or without knowing how.” Sam said. He looked thoughtful. “You need to go to Dad, while I figure it out. You need to keep him out of the barn, and stay away from a circle of oak trees.”
Dean frowned at his brother. “I don’t understand?”
Sam made a face. “It isn’t clear. Something happens-happened in the barn. He…” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Just keep him out of it.”
“And the oak trees?”
This time Sam looked away. “Just stay away, okay?”
“Is that where you saw us die?” Dean asked gently.
After a long silence Sam nodded. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. That’s part of what I need to work out.” Sam reached out and pulled Dean close, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’ll catch up. Just…stay in one piece until I do.”
“I don’t like leaving you.”
The church doors opened and Sam moved away. “I know.”
Dean glanced up at where Gabe and Caleb were saying goodbye, then grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him to the trunk of the car. “Just tell me that you’re okay. That it really did….something.”
Sam’s eyes dropped and he pressed his lips together. “I’m okay, Dean. I’m…not sure how or what, but…or whatever….but I’m better…my head’s more together.”
Dean nodded, not entirely convinced. “I’ll call you when we catch up with him.”
Sam patted his shoulder and moved away, joining Gabe as he came to the bottom of the stairs and Caleb left his side. They stood side by side watching the car pull away. When it was gone, Sam sighed and glanced at Gabe. “So. You and Caleb?”
Gabe’s face paled, then went through confused, shocked and embarrassed. “God, does everybody know?”
Sam laughed and ruffled his hair. “No…Dad says your father hasn’t figured it out.”
Gabe moaned and covered his face with his hands.
“It’s okay, Gabe. Really.” Gabe peeked out at him and Sam grinned. “I mean, it’s totally bizarre…he’s older than Dean…but it’s okay.”
“You need to stop talking now.” Gabe said, smacking Sam with his uninjured arm.
“I mean, Caleb’s not my type…but if you’re into…you know…older guys…”
“I mean it, Sam. I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop.”
“He’s shorter than you too.” Sam took the stairs as quick as he could, with Gabe only a second behind him, but Gabe had taken him by the time he reached the doors.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Gabe said, pulling the door shut.
Sam chuckled and nodded to the door. He felt lighter than he had since the whole thing began. At least until the pain hit. Like a bolt of lightening slamming into his head, it crashed into him and he felt his knees give way, his hands shooting to hold his head as if it might hurtle into pieces. He gasped for air as his vision swam, light and dark, the color bleeding out of the world.
Someone was approaching, someone he should know and couldn’t place…a man, a voice…a hand was on his arm.
“Hey, mister…you okay?”
Sam squinted up…the man was pale and vibrating…shades of grey…everything but his eyes.
“You okay, Sammy?”
“How…how do you know my name?” Sam pulled away from him instinctively, still holding his head. His bad leg was cramped and aching, his knees sore from hitting the stone of the step.
The strange gray man with yellow eyes cocked his head. “Don’t remember me Sammy?”
His hand touched Sam’s forehead and he saw an image, a woman pinned to a ceiling, bleeding…burning. “No.” He pulled away again…but the vision didn’t stop…there was a baby crying, a man with yellow eyes looking down at him. There was screaming. “You…get away from me.”
Sam backed up further until he felt the door behind him. The man’s smile was sickening, the smell of sulfur overpowering. He licked his lips and cracked his neck. “Someone got the party started without me, didn’t they? Head hurt? Seeing things? Eh, Sammy?”
“Don’t call me that.” Sam pulled himself up to his feet. The pounding in his head was intense.
“Come away from here. Let me show you what it’s meant for.”
Sam’s hand was on the door handle and he prayed that Gabe wasn’t still lurking inside. “Get away,” Sam said again, pulling on the door. It was heavy and he couldn’t seem to get it open more than a few inches. “Pastor Jim!” Sam screamed over his shoulder as sweat started to pour over his face. His breath came in great gasps and the man was reaching for him.
Sam cringed away, not wanting the touch, knowing somehow the touch would only bring more pain, more pictures he didn’t want to see. The door pushed toward him and Sam fell into the relative darkness of the church, past Jim, who was throwing holy water at the gray man with the yellow eyes and speaking in Latin.
He fell, landing hard on the marble floor and crawling away from the door, until the sunlight no longer reached him. Sam started when hands touched him, but they were only Jim’s. “Dark…hurts…dark.” Sam muttered, and Jim nodded, helping him onto his feet and half carrying him into the sanctuary and through to a windowless room filled with robes.
Jim helped Sam to a seat, then pulled the door closed. “Better?”
Sam nodded lightly, then grimaced as it set off the rattling pain again. “Can you tell me what that was about?”
Sam swallowed and looked up at him before closing his eyes. The room was nearly pitch black and still the little bit of light from under the door made his head reel. “D-demon?” Sam offered, remembering the sulfur.
“I got that much. I haven’t had a demon on my doorstep in an awfully long time.”
“It…knew me.” Sam said softly, rubbing now at the back of his neck. “Called me by my name. Showed me…I think…I think it was me…as a baby.”
Jim’s hands tilted Sam’s head back and he ran fingers over Sam’s head. “Did it touch you?”
“Yeah.”
“And you saw things when it did?”
Sam made a face. “I’ve been seeing things since the exorcism. This was different though.”
Jim’s hands stopped moving over Sam’s face. “What things have you been seeing?”
Sam shrugged, feeling suddenly very exposed, even in this dark little closet. “Dreams. Last night in the sanctuary, I was sure I wasn’t alone.” He pulled away from Jim’s hands and sighed. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” He tried to stand. This sitting still was starting to make him feel…weak all over again.
“It said something about showing me what it was meant for.” Sam sighed. “I think…I think the exorcism set something loose in side me. Something that’s been there, waiting.”
“Sam, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Jim’s hand was on his shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”
“It’s real, Pastor Jim. I know it is.” Sam rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. I just know it’s real.”
Jim nodded. “Okay, Son. Okay. I’m just saying, let’s take it slow, figure it out together.” He rubbed a hand over Sam’s back. “For now though, I think we’ll play it safe and keep you on consecrated ground, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“So…you and Gabe?” Dean asked when the quiet was too quiet and the radio yielded only static.
Caleb smirked a little. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” Somehow the answer miffed Dean. “What does that mean?”
Caleb sighed. “We’re just taking it slow, you know?” He glanced at Dean, then put his eyes back on the road. “We’re exploring.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. He remembered exploring. He snorted. “I remember that exploring can be fun.” He remembered the first time he’d let Sam take them a step beyond kissing, past making out…the first time Sam had put his hand down Dean’s pants. Sam’d called it exploring. “But this is Gabe, we’re talking about.”
Caleb nodded. “I know.”
“He’s young.”
“I know.”
“He’s really young.” Dean wasn’t really trying to pick a fight, but his protective older brother mode had been tapped. “And, he’s practically a Winchester.”
It was Caleb’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Dean’s fingers were beating out a pattern on the door. “Just…he’s like a brother.”
“And?”
“There is no and.”
Caleb chuckled a little, but it seemed strained to Dean. “He came to me, okay? I would never have…I don’t know. He needed something, and I had it to give.”
“Okay. Forget I said anything.”
“Fine.”
Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed his father. He wasn’t expecting him to answer, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. When the tone sounded, Dean sighed. “Dad. Just sit tight. Caleb and I are on our way. Don’t go in there without backup. We’re an hour and a half out.”
He hung up, then grabbed the dashboard as Caleb slowed the car. “Maybe more,” Caleb said.
Ahead of them an overturned cattle truck blocked the entire road. Police cars lined the sides of the road, their lights flashing over wandering cows and the bloody wreckage of the ones who hadn’t survived the crash.
“Is there another way around?”
Caleb gestured at the glove box. “There’s a map in there.”
Dean slammed a hand down on the dash and yanked open the glove box to pull out the map, hoping there was another way around this mess.
The sky was dark with clouds and big fat drops of rain had started to fall, providing excellent cover for his movement, but helping to hide what he was seeking as well. John adjusted his jacket to keep the gun in his belt mostly dry and shifted his position in the tree.
He was further onto the property than he had intended to go, but the trees were the only cover to be found, and he had climbed up into this one before he’d realized how exposed he’d be if anyone ventured his way.
At least the ran was washing away his scent. From his vantage point, he could see one of the main buildings, at least with the aid of Dean’s binoculars. It was an old farm house, its whitewashed walls in desperate need of paint, its windows dirty from years left unwashed. Two men sat casually on its porch, only their eyes moved with measured precision and guns lay in easy reach.
He couldn’t see much more than that between the branches and the rain. But for the moment it was enough. He’d gather some intelligence, and maybe he’d get a chance to practice his marksmanship, end the whole thing without even needing to get his hands dirty.
Jim closed his office door with shaking hands. He hadn’t said so to Sam, but consecrated ground wasn’t going to make a whole lot of difference if that thing wanted in. He’d only ever faced a demon like that once before…and he hadn’t won so much as he’d ducked for cover and prayed very hard for divine assistance.
He’d been a young minister…and had it not been for a hunter who had driven the demon into the church yard, hoping to contain it, Jim might not have survived that night.
He stumbled to his desk and opened his drawer, withdrawing a bottle of whiskey and a glace, then forgoing the glass all together and drinking directly from the bottle. Once the shaking of his hands had calmed a little, he opened another drawer and pulled out a file folder that was nearly three inches thick.
Jim put it on his desk and folded his hands over it. They’d talked about it. About him. About Sam Winchester and the chance that he was one of them. They’d talked about it for years.
But he’d never shown the signs. And Jim knew, because he’d watched. From the time the boy was a year old. From the time his mother had died. He wasn’t like the others. Jim had been certain.
But everything was different now.
He opened the file, running a finger over the picture of Mary and John that was paper clipped to the inside cover. She had been a beautiful woman. Not for the first time, he regretted never knowing her. He knew from the file that she was strong and independent, fierce in friendship and love, passionate. He could see those traits in both of her boys.
Jim flipped to the back of the file and picked up a pen, making notes quickly and neatly before reaching for his phone. He hesitated with the receiver in his hand. Maybe they still had time. Maybe things wouldn’t fall apart.
Maybe.
He put the receiver back in its cradle and closed the file. Maybe he’d give Sam a few more days and see.
“How’s the head?”
Sam glanced up as Jim joined them, passing a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of water. “Better. Thanks. Gabe was just going over some of the invoices with me.”
Gabe’s computer made a funny noise and Gabe lit up. “Got him now.” He pulled the computer away from Sam and tapped at the keyboard for a few seconds.
“Gabe?”
“Just a sec. Don’t want to get caught.”
A few more seconds of clicking and licking his lips, then Gabe looked up. “It’s Ash. I figured out where he was ordering stuff. It’s taken me weeks, but I slipped a little virus into the code and little by little, every time he makes an order, it’s been working its way into his system. He just got the last of it. Now we can get a look around his network…at least until his security systems figure it out.”
“How long you figure?” Sam asked, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the screen.
“Well, I just made sure it’s dormant and set it to ring up when the system’s been idle for an hour. I figure that way we’ll have a few hours at least to poke around.”
“Very nice.” Sam said, patting Gabe’s shoulder. “I can’t believe that computer teacher ever failed you.”
Gabe pouted at him for a second. “He just hated hackers.”
“Most teachers don’t like students who show them up.” Sam countered, downing a couple of the Tylenol. “I’ve got no cell reception down here. Has Dean or my father called?”
Jim shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“And our friend?”
“Still out front.”
“You two going to tell me what’s going on?” Gabe asked, not looking up from the computer.
“No.” Sam replied, though he said it warmly enough. “Not yet.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow, but still didn’t look up. “You’re as bad as my father.”
“Where is Allen?”
Gabe cocked his head to the side. “Last I knew he was in Washington, but that was at least two weeks ago. Said he would work his way back toward the Roadhouse. Check in.”
The little room in the church’s basement was warm with all three of them in it, but there were no windows, so Sam could control the light level, and it was just big enough for the work table. Cozy, but comfortable.
It had been almost an hour since the incident on the front steps. His head felt as though someone had used it as a speed bag, but it was getting better and his eyes had stopped watering from the strain. If he closed them for too long he could see his mother as she died, so he tried not to close them at all.
Caleb and Dean still had at least an hour’s drive, depending on how fast Caleb drove, or if he let Dean drive. Their father was already there, in Marion. For all he knew, his father was already in trouble. Sam pulled the aerial photo closer.
The ranch wasn’t heavy with buildings. There was the farmhouse, old and standing along a ley line, doors aligned to the line which ran north to south. Further south was the barn. It too had a ley line running under it, east to west. Sam leaned closer. “That’s not good.”
“Hmm?” Jim leaned in to see what he was looking at.
Sam pointed, from the back door of the farmhouse to the side door of the barn. “They intersect.”
Jim pulled something else closer. “That’s the old church.”
“What?”
Jim showed Sam the map. “Back when Marion was more than a handful of farms, this was the center of town. The church stood at the intersection of the ley lines.” He pointed. “This used to be a church.”
“The one that was torn down and desecrated?”
Jim nodded. “I might have a book upstairs that tells the story. I remember reading it. Always planned to head over that way and have a look.”
“Why put a barn there?” Sam murmured. “If they chose the spot for the history, for its association with demonic activity, why cover it with a barn?”
“To hide something?” Gabe asked, looking up. “If that’s where they’re building…whatever it is they’re building…what better way to hide on a ranch?”
Sam chewed on the inside of his lip. They were still missing something. He just couldn’t place it. He didn’t see the barn in the dream/vision. He just instinctively knew they were inside it. His father was writhing on the floor, inside a circle. He turned his head, half hoping the image would become clearer, half hoping it would go away.
“Billy.”
“What?”
Sam opened his eyes and focused on Gabe. “What kind of schooling does Ash’s brother have?”
Gabe shook his head, a little thrown off by the question. “What?”
Sam tried to curb the urgency a little. “William Harvelle. We need to know what his expertise is. We know that Ash handles their tech stuff. We know Andrew can handle the demon stuff. What about Billy?”
Gabe’s mouth opened, then closed. “I don’t know.” He looked from Sam to Jim, then back to the computer, his fingers flying. “Give me a few minutes.”
The rain was slowing and John moved cramped limbs, trying to keep them from seizing with the cold and the awkward position that held him in the tree. There wasn’t much activity in or around the house. The two men sat on the porch, watching. Every now and then there was movement at one of the windows. The dirt road that came in from the gate and went past the house had been empty and unused. Off to the east he knew there was another small building, probably barracks for the ranch hands. To the south was the barn.
That was where he really wanted to be. That would be where the work was getting done. But there was no way to get there. No cover. No way around.
He shifted. The wind was picking up. He blew out in frustration. They’d picked a good spot. Flat land with little tree cover, except on the far south end of the property, where Gabe and Caleb had run into the berserker.
The rain had helped him let go of some of the anger, the surge of emotion that had brought him here. He could think a little more clearly. What he needed to do was retreat, regroup…call Jim, get a team up here to help. He looked through the binoculars one last time.
One of the men was moving, talking into a radio. There was a rumbling engine noise and he turned the binoculars toward the front gate. A large paneled truck was coming up the road. He adjusted the binoculars for a better look, then started as his sight went dark.
John dropped the binoculars, but couldn’t get his gun clear as the creature tilted its head, crouched on the branch with no way to indicate how it had gotten there. It took a swipe at him and he was falling…over backward, smacking his gun hand on a branch and feeling the gun fall way…then he hit the ground. It followed, springing from the tree like a cat, its green and black face inches from his as his vision swam and went dark.
Dean squirmed in his seat. He’d never been a good passenger. It made him feel helpless. He glanced again at the speedometer and Caleb sighed.
“Do you want us to get pulled over?”
“No.” Dean sulked for a minute. They’d left the scene of the wreck, found a way around and had just pulled back onto the road that would take them to Marion. He flipped open his phone and tried his father again for the fifth or sixth time in the last forty minutes. It rolled directly to voice mail. He exhaled and tried Sam instead. His too went directly to voice mail. He was probably down in the basement of the church again, in the dark where his head didn’t hurt so much.
Dean felt another pang of guilt for leaving Sam like that. Just forty eight hours before Sam had been suicidal…and now he was seeing things…and he seemed better…but Dean still hadn’t figured out if Sam was pretending or not. The sex made him think not…but the faces Sam made when he didn’t know anyone was looking made Dean think he was still pretending, at least a little.
The not knowing was killing him. That and the leaving. And no one answering their damn phones. And Caleb’s driving. The clouds and thunder didn’t help either.
Dean crossed his arms and sank into the seat.
Sam let Gabe work and wandered out of the room. The air in the basement was stale and still. Without thought, he found himself in the chapel where they’d performed the exorcism.
He’d been so…tired. He couldn’t fight any more, couldn’t help falling deeper and deeper and he’d almost resented his father for grabbing a hold of him and yanking him out of the dark.
If he closed his eyes he could still feel that despair, though it had retreated. It wasn’t gone. The memories still sat thick and messy inside him…the way it felt to have that demon crawl up inside him, use him, leave him…the rape and humiliation, the beatings…the guilt of knowing that it had all happened because Robert had wanted him. It was all there.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. Somehow this room felt safe…even more so than the sanctuary above him. This ground was sacred. This circle hallowed by something older than the church itself. He could feel it in the marble of the floor. He moved closer to the circle and slipped out of his shoes. He wanted to feel the stone on his feet.
He stepped into the circle and felt the air close in around him, holding him. His breath came quicker as he approached the altar. It had been here that it happened. He’d felt it. The words had scrubbed through him, expunging anything that had remained of the demon…Sam’s hands pressed to the cold stone of the altar. No. Not just the demon.
With a clarity, Sam felt it again, the way the words had worked into him, the way they had torn down walls inside him, tearing out parts of him…parts he hadn’t known were there. They opened him up. The walls that had hidden him, the walls that had been put in place the night his mother died had come out too.
Sam opened his eyes, but instead of the chapel he could only see the nursery, his mother’s face. When she touched him, he could feel it. Her blue eyes burned with knowledge, with something he needed.
Then he was there. And he couldn’t feel her anymore. She was there, but his skin didn’t vibrate with the touch of her presence. He tasted blood…flat and copper and dead…and her voice screamed and the yellow eyes stared down at him.
Sam was panting now, the fury dumping back into him as he watched her die…as his connection to her died…He closed his eyes, willing the scene to go away. He lifted his hands from the stone and clutched his head. Memory took the place of the vision…memory of hands forcing him to his knees…of nakedness and groping and fucking.
There was a flash of light and he vaguely registered that it was the banks of candles coming to light. He pushed at the memories, tried to replace them with other things…with Dean…and his father…but they barraged him…rape and beatings…Robert’s voice…
He heard screaming and crashing and was only vaguely aware that it was his own voice he heard. He stumbled around the altar to the baptismal font, plunging both hands into the holy water and dropping to his knees, forcing the Latin words through the sludge of images and terror.
Deus omnípotens, ut spíritus iniquitátis ámplius non hábeat potestátem in hoc fámulo tuo N. (hac fámula tua N.), sed ut fúgiat, et non revertátur: ingrediatur in eum (eam), Dómine, te jubénte, bónitas et pax Dómini nostri Jesu Christi, per quem redémpti sumus, et ab omni malo non timeámus, quia Dóminus nobiscum est: Qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti Deus, per ómnia sæcula sæculorum
There was a moment where it felt like everything just stopped. Sam’s panting was the only sound he could hear. His body felt like he’d fought off a pack of werewolves by himself. He licked his lips and tasted blood.
“Sam?”
He rubbed a hand over his lips, realizing that his nose was bleeding, before turning. Jim and Gabe stood outside the circle, held outside it by a barrier that shimmered. Beyond them, the chairs that had filled the rest of the chamber were smashed into piles of kindling.
“He’s…glowing…” Gabe said.
“Sam, can you hear me?”
He nodded as he got to his feet, his eyes skipping around the circle and back to Jim. “What’s happening?”
Jim licked his lips and held up his hands. “I need you to calm down Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure…I don’t know what’s happening.” His face was wet with more than blood and holy water. He felt the tears. “What…that thing…the demon…it did something to me…”
“It can’t come where you are Sam. It can’t reach you there.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, trying to make it make sense. “Before…when I was a baby…it…killed my mother…and it did something to me.”
“Sam, listen to me. Your body is under a lot of strain…you need to let go, let us in…you’re going to deplete your strength and you’ll be vulnerable.”
“I’m not controlling it.” Sam knew he was right, he could feel his knees wobble, and he was getting light headed. “I don’t know how.”
“Gabe, I need you to go get me my med kit, it’s in my room. Bring pillows and blankets. Go.” Sam watched Gabe leave, a silvery trail on the floor in his wake. The room around him shimmered. He squinted, trying to see them. He knew they were there.
“Pastor Jim?” He stumbled, catching himself on the altar.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m not going anywhere. I need you to let me in though.”
Sam sat on the cold stone slab, his eyes rolling closed. “Tired.” He was draining, like his skin couldn’t keep him all inside, melting against the stone. Then he felt hands, gentle, stroking his forehead, helping him lay back. “Tired.”
“Sleep Son…sleep.”
Part Three
Title: Destinations, Part 2
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, John, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Gabe (OMC)
Rating: NC-17, for ongoing themes and sex
Word Count: 6486
Summary: Sam sends Dean and Caleb after John, and tries to deal with the changes he can't understand. Gabe gets teased a little. John finds himself in trouble.
A/Ns & Warnings: M/M brotherly incest. This continues some very dark stuff...the psychological fall out of demon possession, rape, murder and dark magic. It also heralds a serious return of the supernatural to the Winchester boys.
Dean woke to the feeling of Sam glomped onto his back, his dick stiff with morning wood and pushing suggestively against Dean’s thigh. Last he knew he’d been in bed alone. He pushed his hips back and Sam groaned. “Sleeping,” Sam mumbled.
“Not anymore.” Dean wiggled against him and Sam gasped.
“Not fair.”
“You’re the one with his dick pressing against me.” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder to where Sam’s face moved against Dean’s neck.
“Not my fault.”
Dean shook his head. Sam’s eyes were still closed, but when Dean reached for his cock they shot open. “Dean!”
“Sam?” Dean smirked as Sam shivered, then his hands were pushing at Dean’s.
“We’re at Pastor Jim’s.”
“You have a good memory.” Dean stroked Sam’s cock and Sam moaned, his eyes slipping closed before he opened them quickly.
“It’s…Dean…not here.”
“Why not here?” Dean asked, not stopping his stroking.
Sam’s hips bucked forward and Dean knew that as much as he might protest, Sam wasn’t going to stop either. “Want you to fuck me Sammy.” Dean whispered, letting go of Sam long enough to pull his boxers down.
Sam’s hand slid down Dean’s back and over the now naked round of his ass. “Dean…it’s…you have to be quiet.”
“I can be quiet.” Dean said, rolling so that he was more on his stomach. He gasped a little when Sam’s finger entered him. “Faster Sammy…faster.”
“Calm down.” Sam hissed, though he worked a second finger in. “You got any lube?”
Dean fumbled around on the floor for his jeans, grunting as Sam worked his fingers in and out. Finally his hand closed on denim and he brought them up to fish the tube out of his back pocket. He tossed it over his shoulder and Sam rolled his eyes. “Should have known.”
Sam’s fingers left him, then came back slick and cool and it was only a few seconds before his weight shifted and Dean felt the thick head of Sam’s cock at his entrance. “Yeah Sammy…come on…”
He sank in slow and Dean hissed as he was filled and Sam’s weight lay against him. He pushed back and Sam’s hands gripped his waist as he pulled back out. There was a moment of panic, but Dean pushed it away. He concentrated on the feeling of Sam, the familiarity of his smell and his touch, his breath against Dean’s neck. The moment passed and Dean adjusted his position so Sam’s next stroke hit his prostate. “God…Sam….go harder…”
Sam grunted in response, but his next thrust was harder, and Dean felt his own cock twitch in response. “Dean…” He felt Sam stiffen, his fingers bruising against hip bones, then the rush of come.
Dean’s cock was hard and begging, and he was prepared to handle it himself. Sam slipped out and Dean rolled over, his hands reaching for his cock, but to his surprise, Sam slapped his hands away and he grinned up at Dean. It had been a while since Sam had been willing to even touch Dean’s dick…and even then, Dean knew he did it only to convince him that everything was okay.
Sam looked like he meant it, but Dean had a niggling doubt that this was a show for his benefit, proof that Sam was okay, that the exorcism had worked.
Sam licked up the underside without losing eye contact. His eyes sparkled. Dean groaned as he slipped his lips around the head, his tongue playing with the slit just before he slid that heat down the length of Dean’s dick and back up. “Fuck, Sammy…”
He sucked hard and Dean bucked up off the bed, thrusting deeper than he meant to. Dean stiffened and looked, but Sam’s eyes were closed and he didn’t seem bothered by it, just adjusted his position and opened his throat. Dean’s eyes rolled closed as Sam swallowed and purred and his one hand squeezed Dean’s balls. That was it…Dean thrust up again and came. Sam sucked and swallowed and followed Dean back to the bed, licking up to the tip.
Sam frowned at him. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?”
“That look…like I grew horns or something.”
Dean shook his head. He was concerned, but didn’t know it was showing on his face. He pushed Sam and sat up. “I don’t have a look. You’re imagining things.” He grimaced as he stood. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I’m just hungry…and now my ass hurts.”
Sam snorted at that. “Your fault. You’re the one begging me to fuck you.”
“You were the one with the hard-on poking me.” Dean found his jeans again and pulled them on. “I’m hungry.” He wanted to change the subject, wanted this pretending to be okay, to be real.
“You stink like sex. Go shower. I’ll make breakfast.”
Sam got up from the bed, and pulled on the jeans he’d left at the end of the bed, but froze at the door. “Dad.”
Dean turned. “What about Dad?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
Sam shook his head, the look on his face like he was trying to trace some elusive memory that was just out of reach. “I woke up…dreams.” He rubbed his face and shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s just…gone.”
Dean pushed past him, running barefoot through the hall and out the side door. The Impala was gone. Dean scratched the back of his head and turned to look at Sam. “Maybe he just…”
Sam shook his head. He was certainly. Dean stormed back to him. “Okay, what the hell is going on with you, Sam? First Gabe, then the room…now this?”
He seemed dazed, but he blinked when Dean grabbed him. “I don’t know Dean. I just don’t know.”
“Well…we need to figure out where he-“
“I think it’s obvious where.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Go shower, I’ll make breakfast and wake Jim and Caleb. Dad’s got a head start, but you should be able to catch up with him before he does anything stupid.”
Dean squinted at his brother. It was clear Sam had already determined he wasn’t going with him. Whether that was because Sam thought he should stay behind or because he just didn’t want to argue with Dean over it, he couldn’t say.
Sam was changed, that much was obvious…but Dean still wasn’t certain what that change was all about. Dean slammed through his shower and getting dressed, forgoing shaving all together to get into the kitchen where Jim and Caleb were yawning their way through a cup of coffee while Sam put the finishing touches on eggs and toast for everyone.
“So we’re sure he’s gone?” Jim asked as Dean sat.
“Car’s gone.”
“Half your weapons stash is gone too.” Sam said as he set plates on the table. “He’s armed, heavily armed.”
“What the hell is he thinking, going off alone?” Dean asked through clenched teeth.
“He’s thinking that you boys have been through enough and that he’s doing his job. Finally.” Jim answered, picking up his fork. He closed his eyes briefly and when he looked up all eyes in the room were on him. “He feels incredibly guilty about how it went down before. About not being the one to kill the man responsible. He wants to be the one who sees this through.”
Dean shook his head. Stupid. Damn, stubborn Winchester pride. He didn’t say it out loud, but from the look Sam gave him, he didn’t really have to. “It doesn’t matter what he was thinking. You’ll just have to go after him.” Sam said, his eyes locked on Dean’s. “You and Caleb,” he amended, glancing aside at Caleb who looked up at him.
“What about me?” Gabe asked suddenly from the doorway.
Sam shook his head. “I need you here. We’re going to figure out what it is they’re up to on that ranch.”
Dean watched Sam set another plate on the table for Gabe. There was more, something Sam wasn’t telling him. Something he wasn’t going to say in front of the others.
“We’ll follow them once we’ve got a few answers,” Sam continued, leaning against the counter. He turned and caught Dean’s eye again. “You have to keep him safe, keep him alive…until Gabe and I come.”
He didn’t like the look in his brother’s eye. Like he was sending Dean off on an impossible mission…like he expected to never see him again. Dean closed his mind to that thought and dug into his eggs. The sooner they finished, the sooner they’d get on the road.
Marion didn’t have a lot of cover. Only the post office and tiny grocery store really made it a town. It was a loose length of ranches and farms stretched out in a hub around the single building at a four-way stop that sported the local bar, that doubled as a meeting hall, the grocery store and government offices.
The Impala stood out like the proverbial sore thumb as John drove past the building and headed west. It rumbled and roared as he pushed it past the ending of the paved road toward the ranch where his quarry waited.
He had no real plan. Despite his warning to Dean about heading off after these men without one, John had come, needing action…needing to shake off the cobwebs of the last months…he was tired of waiting.
He saw the buildings rise up out of the horizon, just like the photos Gabe had taken. He knew that somewhere on this property were the men…the last remaining remnants of those who had broken his boys.
A cold fury was building inside him. It leeched into his blood as he drove past the cheery entrance to the property, with its wrought iron sign reading “Arlish Farms” and its sunflowers. He clenched his teeth and fought the desire to just turn down that dirt lane, barrel through that gate, and ram the car into the nearest building.
That would only get him killed. No. He had to be smarter than that. Had to think like his prey. Like a hunter gone terribly wrong.
“You’re sure about this?” Dean asked as he threw his duffle into the back of Caleb’s car.
“Not really, no.” Sam said.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Dean didn’t ask it. Sam didn’t deny it. He was silent for a minute, his eyes on the ground.
Finally he seemed to decide something and nodded. “Promise me you won’t freak out.”
“I’ll try.”
Sam nodded again. “Okay. Something is happening to me. I need to stay here and figure it out, or I won’t be any help to you.”
“Something? What something?” Dean reached for his hand and Sam licked his lips.
“The dreams. They’re more than…That night, after the exorcism? I saw the thing that attacked Gabe. I saw him get hurt. I knew they were coming.” He played with a stone with the toe of his shoe. “I knew Dad was gone before I even came upstairs. I’ve seen…other things.”
Dean crossed his arms, his patience waning. “Sam. You’ve always had an overactive imagination.”
Sam chuckled and looked up finally. “And the bedroom? Was that my overactive imagination?”
“You did it. You just don’t remember.” Dean felt his stomach drop.
“I don’t know which is worse, believing that I could do damage like that without remembering, or without knowing how.” Sam said. He looked thoughtful. “You need to go to Dad, while I figure it out. You need to keep him out of the barn, and stay away from a circle of oak trees.”
Dean frowned at his brother. “I don’t understand?”
Sam made a face. “It isn’t clear. Something happens-happened in the barn. He…” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Just keep him out of it.”
“And the oak trees?”
This time Sam looked away. “Just stay away, okay?”
“Is that where you saw us die?” Dean asked gently.
After a long silence Sam nodded. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. That’s part of what I need to work out.” Sam reached out and pulled Dean close, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’ll catch up. Just…stay in one piece until I do.”
“I don’t like leaving you.”
The church doors opened and Sam moved away. “I know.”
Dean glanced up at where Gabe and Caleb were saying goodbye, then grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him to the trunk of the car. “Just tell me that you’re okay. That it really did….something.”
Sam’s eyes dropped and he pressed his lips together. “I’m okay, Dean. I’m…not sure how or what, but…or whatever….but I’m better…my head’s more together.”
Dean nodded, not entirely convinced. “I’ll call you when we catch up with him.”
Sam patted his shoulder and moved away, joining Gabe as he came to the bottom of the stairs and Caleb left his side. They stood side by side watching the car pull away. When it was gone, Sam sighed and glanced at Gabe. “So. You and Caleb?”
Gabe’s face paled, then went through confused, shocked and embarrassed. “God, does everybody know?”
Sam laughed and ruffled his hair. “No…Dad says your father hasn’t figured it out.”
Gabe moaned and covered his face with his hands.
“It’s okay, Gabe. Really.” Gabe peeked out at him and Sam grinned. “I mean, it’s totally bizarre…he’s older than Dean…but it’s okay.”
“You need to stop talking now.” Gabe said, smacking Sam with his uninjured arm.
“I mean, Caleb’s not my type…but if you’re into…you know…older guys…”
“I mean it, Sam. I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop.”
“He’s shorter than you too.” Sam took the stairs as quick as he could, with Gabe only a second behind him, but Gabe had taken him by the time he reached the doors.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Gabe said, pulling the door shut.
Sam chuckled and nodded to the door. He felt lighter than he had since the whole thing began. At least until the pain hit. Like a bolt of lightening slamming into his head, it crashed into him and he felt his knees give way, his hands shooting to hold his head as if it might hurtle into pieces. He gasped for air as his vision swam, light and dark, the color bleeding out of the world.
Someone was approaching, someone he should know and couldn’t place…a man, a voice…a hand was on his arm.
“Hey, mister…you okay?”
Sam squinted up…the man was pale and vibrating…shades of grey…everything but his eyes.
“You okay, Sammy?”
“How…how do you know my name?” Sam pulled away from him instinctively, still holding his head. His bad leg was cramped and aching, his knees sore from hitting the stone of the step.
The strange gray man with yellow eyes cocked his head. “Don’t remember me Sammy?”
His hand touched Sam’s forehead and he saw an image, a woman pinned to a ceiling, bleeding…burning. “No.” He pulled away again…but the vision didn’t stop…there was a baby crying, a man with yellow eyes looking down at him. There was screaming. “You…get away from me.”
Sam backed up further until he felt the door behind him. The man’s smile was sickening, the smell of sulfur overpowering. He licked his lips and cracked his neck. “Someone got the party started without me, didn’t they? Head hurt? Seeing things? Eh, Sammy?”
“Don’t call me that.” Sam pulled himself up to his feet. The pounding in his head was intense.
“Come away from here. Let me show you what it’s meant for.”
Sam’s hand was on the door handle and he prayed that Gabe wasn’t still lurking inside. “Get away,” Sam said again, pulling on the door. It was heavy and he couldn’t seem to get it open more than a few inches. “Pastor Jim!” Sam screamed over his shoulder as sweat started to pour over his face. His breath came in great gasps and the man was reaching for him.
Sam cringed away, not wanting the touch, knowing somehow the touch would only bring more pain, more pictures he didn’t want to see. The door pushed toward him and Sam fell into the relative darkness of the church, past Jim, who was throwing holy water at the gray man with the yellow eyes and speaking in Latin.
He fell, landing hard on the marble floor and crawling away from the door, until the sunlight no longer reached him. Sam started when hands touched him, but they were only Jim’s. “Dark…hurts…dark.” Sam muttered, and Jim nodded, helping him onto his feet and half carrying him into the sanctuary and through to a windowless room filled with robes.
Jim helped Sam to a seat, then pulled the door closed. “Better?”
Sam nodded lightly, then grimaced as it set off the rattling pain again. “Can you tell me what that was about?”
Sam swallowed and looked up at him before closing his eyes. The room was nearly pitch black and still the little bit of light from under the door made his head reel. “D-demon?” Sam offered, remembering the sulfur.
“I got that much. I haven’t had a demon on my doorstep in an awfully long time.”
“It…knew me.” Sam said softly, rubbing now at the back of his neck. “Called me by my name. Showed me…I think…I think it was me…as a baby.”
Jim’s hands tilted Sam’s head back and he ran fingers over Sam’s head. “Did it touch you?”
“Yeah.”
“And you saw things when it did?”
Sam made a face. “I’ve been seeing things since the exorcism. This was different though.”
Jim’s hands stopped moving over Sam’s face. “What things have you been seeing?”
Sam shrugged, feeling suddenly very exposed, even in this dark little closet. “Dreams. Last night in the sanctuary, I was sure I wasn’t alone.” He pulled away from Jim’s hands and sighed. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” He tried to stand. This sitting still was starting to make him feel…weak all over again.
“It said something about showing me what it was meant for.” Sam sighed. “I think…I think the exorcism set something loose in side me. Something that’s been there, waiting.”
“Sam, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Jim’s hand was on his shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”
“It’s real, Pastor Jim. I know it is.” Sam rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. I just know it’s real.”
Jim nodded. “Okay, Son. Okay. I’m just saying, let’s take it slow, figure it out together.” He rubbed a hand over Sam’s back. “For now though, I think we’ll play it safe and keep you on consecrated ground, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“So…you and Gabe?” Dean asked when the quiet was too quiet and the radio yielded only static.
Caleb smirked a little. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” Somehow the answer miffed Dean. “What does that mean?”
Caleb sighed. “We’re just taking it slow, you know?” He glanced at Dean, then put his eyes back on the road. “We’re exploring.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. He remembered exploring. He snorted. “I remember that exploring can be fun.” He remembered the first time he’d let Sam take them a step beyond kissing, past making out…the first time Sam had put his hand down Dean’s pants. Sam’d called it exploring. “But this is Gabe, we’re talking about.”
Caleb nodded. “I know.”
“He’s young.”
“I know.”
“He’s really young.” Dean wasn’t really trying to pick a fight, but his protective older brother mode had been tapped. “And, he’s practically a Winchester.”
It was Caleb’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Dean’s fingers were beating out a pattern on the door. “Just…he’s like a brother.”
“And?”
“There is no and.”
Caleb chuckled a little, but it seemed strained to Dean. “He came to me, okay? I would never have…I don’t know. He needed something, and I had it to give.”
“Okay. Forget I said anything.”
“Fine.”
Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed his father. He wasn’t expecting him to answer, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. When the tone sounded, Dean sighed. “Dad. Just sit tight. Caleb and I are on our way. Don’t go in there without backup. We’re an hour and a half out.”
He hung up, then grabbed the dashboard as Caleb slowed the car. “Maybe more,” Caleb said.
Ahead of them an overturned cattle truck blocked the entire road. Police cars lined the sides of the road, their lights flashing over wandering cows and the bloody wreckage of the ones who hadn’t survived the crash.
“Is there another way around?”
Caleb gestured at the glove box. “There’s a map in there.”
Dean slammed a hand down on the dash and yanked open the glove box to pull out the map, hoping there was another way around this mess.
The sky was dark with clouds and big fat drops of rain had started to fall, providing excellent cover for his movement, but helping to hide what he was seeking as well. John adjusted his jacket to keep the gun in his belt mostly dry and shifted his position in the tree.
He was further onto the property than he had intended to go, but the trees were the only cover to be found, and he had climbed up into this one before he’d realized how exposed he’d be if anyone ventured his way.
At least the ran was washing away his scent. From his vantage point, he could see one of the main buildings, at least with the aid of Dean’s binoculars. It was an old farm house, its whitewashed walls in desperate need of paint, its windows dirty from years left unwashed. Two men sat casually on its porch, only their eyes moved with measured precision and guns lay in easy reach.
He couldn’t see much more than that between the branches and the rain. But for the moment it was enough. He’d gather some intelligence, and maybe he’d get a chance to practice his marksmanship, end the whole thing without even needing to get his hands dirty.
Jim closed his office door with shaking hands. He hadn’t said so to Sam, but consecrated ground wasn’t going to make a whole lot of difference if that thing wanted in. He’d only ever faced a demon like that once before…and he hadn’t won so much as he’d ducked for cover and prayed very hard for divine assistance.
He’d been a young minister…and had it not been for a hunter who had driven the demon into the church yard, hoping to contain it, Jim might not have survived that night.
He stumbled to his desk and opened his drawer, withdrawing a bottle of whiskey and a glace, then forgoing the glass all together and drinking directly from the bottle. Once the shaking of his hands had calmed a little, he opened another drawer and pulled out a file folder that was nearly three inches thick.
Jim put it on his desk and folded his hands over it. They’d talked about it. About him. About Sam Winchester and the chance that he was one of them. They’d talked about it for years.
But he’d never shown the signs. And Jim knew, because he’d watched. From the time the boy was a year old. From the time his mother had died. He wasn’t like the others. Jim had been certain.
But everything was different now.
He opened the file, running a finger over the picture of Mary and John that was paper clipped to the inside cover. She had been a beautiful woman. Not for the first time, he regretted never knowing her. He knew from the file that she was strong and independent, fierce in friendship and love, passionate. He could see those traits in both of her boys.
Jim flipped to the back of the file and picked up a pen, making notes quickly and neatly before reaching for his phone. He hesitated with the receiver in his hand. Maybe they still had time. Maybe things wouldn’t fall apart.
Maybe.
He put the receiver back in its cradle and closed the file. Maybe he’d give Sam a few more days and see.
“How’s the head?”
Sam glanced up as Jim joined them, passing a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of water. “Better. Thanks. Gabe was just going over some of the invoices with me.”
Gabe’s computer made a funny noise and Gabe lit up. “Got him now.” He pulled the computer away from Sam and tapped at the keyboard for a few seconds.
“Gabe?”
“Just a sec. Don’t want to get caught.”
A few more seconds of clicking and licking his lips, then Gabe looked up. “It’s Ash. I figured out where he was ordering stuff. It’s taken me weeks, but I slipped a little virus into the code and little by little, every time he makes an order, it’s been working its way into his system. He just got the last of it. Now we can get a look around his network…at least until his security systems figure it out.”
“How long you figure?” Sam asked, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the screen.
“Well, I just made sure it’s dormant and set it to ring up when the system’s been idle for an hour. I figure that way we’ll have a few hours at least to poke around.”
“Very nice.” Sam said, patting Gabe’s shoulder. “I can’t believe that computer teacher ever failed you.”
Gabe pouted at him for a second. “He just hated hackers.”
“Most teachers don’t like students who show them up.” Sam countered, downing a couple of the Tylenol. “I’ve got no cell reception down here. Has Dean or my father called?”
Jim shook his head. “No. Nothing.”
“And our friend?”
“Still out front.”
“You two going to tell me what’s going on?” Gabe asked, not looking up from the computer.
“No.” Sam replied, though he said it warmly enough. “Not yet.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow, but still didn’t look up. “You’re as bad as my father.”
“Where is Allen?”
Gabe cocked his head to the side. “Last I knew he was in Washington, but that was at least two weeks ago. Said he would work his way back toward the Roadhouse. Check in.”
The little room in the church’s basement was warm with all three of them in it, but there were no windows, so Sam could control the light level, and it was just big enough for the work table. Cozy, but comfortable.
It had been almost an hour since the incident on the front steps. His head felt as though someone had used it as a speed bag, but it was getting better and his eyes had stopped watering from the strain. If he closed them for too long he could see his mother as she died, so he tried not to close them at all.
Caleb and Dean still had at least an hour’s drive, depending on how fast Caleb drove, or if he let Dean drive. Their father was already there, in Marion. For all he knew, his father was already in trouble. Sam pulled the aerial photo closer.
The ranch wasn’t heavy with buildings. There was the farmhouse, old and standing along a ley line, doors aligned to the line which ran north to south. Further south was the barn. It too had a ley line running under it, east to west. Sam leaned closer. “That’s not good.”
“Hmm?” Jim leaned in to see what he was looking at.
Sam pointed, from the back door of the farmhouse to the side door of the barn. “They intersect.”
Jim pulled something else closer. “That’s the old church.”
“What?”
Jim showed Sam the map. “Back when Marion was more than a handful of farms, this was the center of town. The church stood at the intersection of the ley lines.” He pointed. “This used to be a church.”
“The one that was torn down and desecrated?”
Jim nodded. “I might have a book upstairs that tells the story. I remember reading it. Always planned to head over that way and have a look.”
“Why put a barn there?” Sam murmured. “If they chose the spot for the history, for its association with demonic activity, why cover it with a barn?”
“To hide something?” Gabe asked, looking up. “If that’s where they’re building…whatever it is they’re building…what better way to hide on a ranch?”
Sam chewed on the inside of his lip. They were still missing something. He just couldn’t place it. He didn’t see the barn in the dream/vision. He just instinctively knew they were inside it. His father was writhing on the floor, inside a circle. He turned his head, half hoping the image would become clearer, half hoping it would go away.
“Billy.”
“What?”
Sam opened his eyes and focused on Gabe. “What kind of schooling does Ash’s brother have?”
Gabe shook his head, a little thrown off by the question. “What?”
Sam tried to curb the urgency a little. “William Harvelle. We need to know what his expertise is. We know that Ash handles their tech stuff. We know Andrew can handle the demon stuff. What about Billy?”
Gabe’s mouth opened, then closed. “I don’t know.” He looked from Sam to Jim, then back to the computer, his fingers flying. “Give me a few minutes.”
The rain was slowing and John moved cramped limbs, trying to keep them from seizing with the cold and the awkward position that held him in the tree. There wasn’t much activity in or around the house. The two men sat on the porch, watching. Every now and then there was movement at one of the windows. The dirt road that came in from the gate and went past the house had been empty and unused. Off to the east he knew there was another small building, probably barracks for the ranch hands. To the south was the barn.
That was where he really wanted to be. That would be where the work was getting done. But there was no way to get there. No cover. No way around.
He shifted. The wind was picking up. He blew out in frustration. They’d picked a good spot. Flat land with little tree cover, except on the far south end of the property, where Gabe and Caleb had run into the berserker.
The rain had helped him let go of some of the anger, the surge of emotion that had brought him here. He could think a little more clearly. What he needed to do was retreat, regroup…call Jim, get a team up here to help. He looked through the binoculars one last time.
One of the men was moving, talking into a radio. There was a rumbling engine noise and he turned the binoculars toward the front gate. A large paneled truck was coming up the road. He adjusted the binoculars for a better look, then started as his sight went dark.
John dropped the binoculars, but couldn’t get his gun clear as the creature tilted its head, crouched on the branch with no way to indicate how it had gotten there. It took a swipe at him and he was falling…over backward, smacking his gun hand on a branch and feeling the gun fall way…then he hit the ground. It followed, springing from the tree like a cat, its green and black face inches from his as his vision swam and went dark.
Dean squirmed in his seat. He’d never been a good passenger. It made him feel helpless. He glanced again at the speedometer and Caleb sighed.
“Do you want us to get pulled over?”
“No.” Dean sulked for a minute. They’d left the scene of the wreck, found a way around and had just pulled back onto the road that would take them to Marion. He flipped open his phone and tried his father again for the fifth or sixth time in the last forty minutes. It rolled directly to voice mail. He exhaled and tried Sam instead. His too went directly to voice mail. He was probably down in the basement of the church again, in the dark where his head didn’t hurt so much.
Dean felt another pang of guilt for leaving Sam like that. Just forty eight hours before Sam had been suicidal…and now he was seeing things…and he seemed better…but Dean still hadn’t figured out if Sam was pretending or not. The sex made him think not…but the faces Sam made when he didn’t know anyone was looking made Dean think he was still pretending, at least a little.
The not knowing was killing him. That and the leaving. And no one answering their damn phones. And Caleb’s driving. The clouds and thunder didn’t help either.
Dean crossed his arms and sank into the seat.
Sam let Gabe work and wandered out of the room. The air in the basement was stale and still. Without thought, he found himself in the chapel where they’d performed the exorcism.
He’d been so…tired. He couldn’t fight any more, couldn’t help falling deeper and deeper and he’d almost resented his father for grabbing a hold of him and yanking him out of the dark.
If he closed his eyes he could still feel that despair, though it had retreated. It wasn’t gone. The memories still sat thick and messy inside him…the way it felt to have that demon crawl up inside him, use him, leave him…the rape and humiliation, the beatings…the guilt of knowing that it had all happened because Robert had wanted him. It was all there.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. Somehow this room felt safe…even more so than the sanctuary above him. This ground was sacred. This circle hallowed by something older than the church itself. He could feel it in the marble of the floor. He moved closer to the circle and slipped out of his shoes. He wanted to feel the stone on his feet.
He stepped into the circle and felt the air close in around him, holding him. His breath came quicker as he approached the altar. It had been here that it happened. He’d felt it. The words had scrubbed through him, expunging anything that had remained of the demon…Sam’s hands pressed to the cold stone of the altar. No. Not just the demon.
With a clarity, Sam felt it again, the way the words had worked into him, the way they had torn down walls inside him, tearing out parts of him…parts he hadn’t known were there. They opened him up. The walls that had hidden him, the walls that had been put in place the night his mother died had come out too.
Sam opened his eyes, but instead of the chapel he could only see the nursery, his mother’s face. When she touched him, he could feel it. Her blue eyes burned with knowledge, with something he needed.
Then he was there. And he couldn’t feel her anymore. She was there, but his skin didn’t vibrate with the touch of her presence. He tasted blood…flat and copper and dead…and her voice screamed and the yellow eyes stared down at him.
Sam was panting now, the fury dumping back into him as he watched her die…as his connection to her died…He closed his eyes, willing the scene to go away. He lifted his hands from the stone and clutched his head. Memory took the place of the vision…memory of hands forcing him to his knees…of nakedness and groping and fucking.
There was a flash of light and he vaguely registered that it was the banks of candles coming to light. He pushed at the memories, tried to replace them with other things…with Dean…and his father…but they barraged him…rape and beatings…Robert’s voice…
He heard screaming and crashing and was only vaguely aware that it was his own voice he heard. He stumbled around the altar to the baptismal font, plunging both hands into the holy water and dropping to his knees, forcing the Latin words through the sludge of images and terror.
Deus omnípotens, ut spíritus iniquitátis ámplius non hábeat potestátem in hoc fámulo tuo N. (hac fámula tua N.), sed ut fúgiat, et non revertátur: ingrediatur in eum (eam), Dómine, te jubénte, bónitas et pax Dómini nostri Jesu Christi, per quem redémpti sumus, et ab omni malo non timeámus, quia Dóminus nobiscum est: Qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti Deus, per ómnia sæcula sæculorum
There was a moment where it felt like everything just stopped. Sam’s panting was the only sound he could hear. His body felt like he’d fought off a pack of werewolves by himself. He licked his lips and tasted blood.
“Sam?”
He rubbed a hand over his lips, realizing that his nose was bleeding, before turning. Jim and Gabe stood outside the circle, held outside it by a barrier that shimmered. Beyond them, the chairs that had filled the rest of the chamber were smashed into piles of kindling.
“He’s…glowing…” Gabe said.
“Sam, can you hear me?”
He nodded as he got to his feet, his eyes skipping around the circle and back to Jim. “What’s happening?”
Jim licked his lips and held up his hands. “I need you to calm down Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure…I don’t know what’s happening.” His face was wet with more than blood and holy water. He felt the tears. “What…that thing…the demon…it did something to me…”
“It can’t come where you are Sam. It can’t reach you there.”
“No.” Sam shook his head, trying to make it make sense. “Before…when I was a baby…it…killed my mother…and it did something to me.”
“Sam, listen to me. Your body is under a lot of strain…you need to let go, let us in…you’re going to deplete your strength and you’ll be vulnerable.”
“I’m not controlling it.” Sam knew he was right, he could feel his knees wobble, and he was getting light headed. “I don’t know how.”
“Gabe, I need you to go get me my med kit, it’s in my room. Bring pillows and blankets. Go.” Sam watched Gabe leave, a silvery trail on the floor in his wake. The room around him shimmered. He squinted, trying to see them. He knew they were there.
“Pastor Jim?” He stumbled, catching himself on the altar.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m not going anywhere. I need you to let me in though.”
Sam sat on the cold stone slab, his eyes rolling closed. “Tired.” He was draining, like his skin couldn’t keep him all inside, melting against the stone. Then he felt hands, gentle, stroking his forehead, helping him lay back. “Tired.”
“Sleep Son…sleep.”
Part Three