Polaris-Good Night
May. 3rd, 2013 10:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraTitle: Polaris
Wordcount: 8,617
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Notes: The only fic I never transferred over, and my first attempt at a chapter story.
Summary: An intervention of pagan forces splits the brothers when they are young. Growing up apart and alone what will they do to be reunited, and how will they fight what is considered their destiny?
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
Sam woke up in a dark and damp room with strangers. He looked around at the faces and knew them, recognized them, but he couldn't remember where from. The last clear thing he remembered was hearing the door downstairs being smashed, and then the smell of fire and smoke. Something inside him had gone liquid even as he was grabbing his shoes and heading for the bedroom door. Utre had come stumbling past him, eyes so bright that he didn't need to turn on any lights, and then she had started fighting. The rest was a blur of blood and screaming, fires roaring everywhere even as the smoke choked him until the world went dark. Then here, with these people, and no idea how he got there in the first place. The twitchy guy in front of him holds out one hand and smiles shakily.
"I'm Andy. Who are you?"
And there it is. The dream. Sam dreamed of these people, dreamed of the yellow-eyed demon being here, and he knows without having to dissect things that Dean and dad were tricked. Dean left and now here he is. Dean's always leaving, and Sam's always finding himself worse off than before.
Sam holds his own hand out and shakes Andy's while looking around at the other kidnapped people. The blonde avoids his gaze, but the black soldier and the delicate looking young woman both move forward and introduce themselves.
"Ava."
"Jake."
Sam nods at both of them and then clears smoke from his throat. "Sam. Do we know why we're here?"
He knows. Knows deep in his bones the way he knew how to find the woman that would lead him to Dean. Still this may not be the audience for that sort of information.
Andy shakes his head even as he answers. "Yeah I think so. See we all seem…uh…special you know? Able to do stuff? Can you do stuff Sam?"
Well maybe this is the right audience. "What do you mean by stuff?"
Jake steps forward and lifts the ratty old couch with one hand, his eyebrow cocked in something that Sam recognizes as macho posturing. Ava looks away for a second before blushing and digging her toe into the old carpet. "I dream the future." Her voice drops with every word until she's barely audible. Sam looks to Andy and sees the open and honest look of a young man that's never had many friends, but always deserved them.
"I can make people do things. With my mind." Andy rubs at the back of his neck and Sam's painfully reminded of Dean. Dean will look for me.
The blonde glares at all of them and takes another step back, her arms wrapped so tightly around her skinny frame it's like she's trying to hold herself in. "I kill people with my touch. So yeah, nothing fun like precognition or super strength."
Sam winces and then turns to Ava. "I have those same dreams. They're usually kind of fragmented, but I can understand them sometimes."
Ava's nodding eagerly and smiling suddenly. "Yeah. Yeah I have that a lot too. Wow." She seems overly breathless, and Sam gets the feeling she's trying to draw his attention to her not inconsiderable breasts.
Jake shakes his head and gives Sam a knowing grin. "Ok, so we're all freaks. Now let's figure out how we got here."
Turns out their origin stories aren't much help either. Their memories are fragmented at best, and not there at worst. Most of them were just grabbed while sleeping. Sam edits his story heavily to protect just how out of the normal loop he is. When he suggests the salt lines they all give him unsure looks, but Andy's willing to try anything.
So when Lily ends up dead Sam's pretty sure something is wrong beyond the demon and the town, but finding Andy dead cements that.
-----
They've been there over a day and now it's just Jake and Sam. The sleeplessness is getting to them, and they take turns getting rest. Sam takes the first shift and watches Jake twitch and mutter in his sleep. When the soldier wakes up he has a strange look in his eyes, and Sam tries to ignore how unsettled he feels so that he can get his own rest. He falls asleep so quickly it's like a magic trick.
In his dream the yellow-eyed demon is circling him, face on the edge of pleasure and anger. "You gotta do something and soon Sammy. Only one of you can survive, and if you're not quick boy it won't be you."
Sam looks around the village and then back to the demon. "Dean's coming. When he gets here Jake and I will just leave. You're not going to win."
The demon shakes his head and gives Sam a mournful look. "You're it Sammy. Jake can hope all he wants but you've been it since the beginning boy. The rest of this was just window-dressing and misdirection. Nothing your brother or that golden-eyed bitch do can change that." But he doesn't look sure, and Sam catches that.
"Bullshit. I'm going to wake up and we're going to wait it out. Wait for Dean."
The demon looks away fro a second and then turns back. All pretense of pleasantry gone from his face. "That bitch is dying, and her little friends won't be able to find you here. Your brother will end bloody and it will all be your fault. Just give in Sam. Just play along and you can keep them all as pets. Wouldn't you like that? Dean'll never leave you again son. Never turn his back on you for some valiant cause. Instead he'll kneel at your feet, love you, and be everything you ever wanted."
Sam's already turning away, forcing himself to wake up. "That's never been what I wanted."
He remembers the night Dean woke him up, drugged on Ishtar's influence and unable to help the words spilling from his mouth. Remembers the way "I love you" sounded rolling off Dean's tongue. Take the fire out of his brother's eyes? The defiance out of his spirit? Better to kill him because Sam's never wanted anything other than that Dean. The one that said he'd burn the world down.
He wakes to Jake watching him, and he knows without a doubt that the demon has given Jake the same ultimatum. He shakes his head once and pushes himself to his feet.
"We just have to wait. Dean's coming. I know it."
They leave the building, wander the empty streets of the ghost town and Sam finds himself constantly fixating on the bell in the middle. It should mean something, but it doesn't, and Sam's not sure why. The sun has risen on the official second day of their time there, and Sam hears Jake take a deep breath behind him.
"Look Sam, I think you seem like a really nice guy." Sam hears the but and his whole body goes tight, but he can't turn around. He can sense Dean, feel him, and that's enough. "But the demon he-I'm sorry Sam." Which is when the blow comes and Sam's flying across the muddy ground and slamming into an old rotten fence.
He scrambles, pain from his shoulder screaming dislocation as he fights to keep his head together. Dad's trained him for this, taught him how to ignore pain and focus on the enemy, but Jake shouldn't be the enemy. They're in this together. He tries to get that out but Jake's already there and Sam barely dodges a blow that would take his head. His hand comes down on a pipe and he grabs it tightly before pushing himself up.
His dislocated shoulder hangs at a bad angle, and he can't stabilize the arm so he does more damage letting it swing while he moves towards Jake. "Don't." It's the best he can manage.
Jake comes at him, a freight train of motion and violence, and Sam takes a step to the side at just the right second and swings the pipe. Catches Jake in the base of the skull and watches him stagger drunkenly. It's not enough yet though and Sam knows it. He swings again and again until Jake goes down, and then drops the pipe. If there's any hope left Jake will wake up with one hell of a headache and no blood on his hands. He thinks of Ava and Andy and Lily, of how they've all turned on each other or been destroyed. If the devil is all about the temptation of innocents then this has been a pretty big victory.
He's staggering through the main street, pain clouding his thoughts so badly he's almost willing to test the boundary theory just to get out on his own. Which is when he hears Dean shouting his name. He looks up to see his brother with a somber looking Coyote behind him. He speeds up, feet slipping in the mud as he eagerly pushes his aching body towards Dean's strong warmth. He sees an odd flash in Dean's green eyes, a change in expression, and then Dean is screaming his name as Coyote opens his mouth in shock. Which is when the sharp pain hits him.
It's his spine, but it's everything, and the fire racing along his nerves coupled with the sudden loss of sensation in his lower body are bad. He knows it but he doesn't know why. Time folds on itself, and then Dean is there and catching him, lowering him so Sam doesn't fall into the mud hard. He's glad because his knees are the only part of him that don't hurt, but that may be because he can't feel them. Dean's eyes though, they're golden, and he thinks of Missouri when he passed out crying. Missouri who wasn't really Missouri.
"It's alright Sammy. It's alright I got you. I got you." Dean is moving but Sam can't track his movements properly. His eyes are too busy losing focus. "It's not even that bad man. It's ok." Dean sounds like he's crying, and Sam wants to tell him it's ok but there's no breath in his lungs. Which is when he loses Dean and the rest of the world in sharp pitch into darkness.
-----
Sam's in a dim hallway, and there's a woman in front of him. She's the dark-haired Native-American lady that Coyote is always teasing. Raven. He's sure it's Raven. Her eyes glint at him and then she holds out one feathered hand and smiles softly. "Is this the way you want to go?"
Sam shakes his head, tries to remember how he got here or why she'd be here, and simply can't. "I want to go to Dean."
"Then I am not your guide Samuel."
She disappears, and Sam stumbles further down the hallway. His shoulder doesn't hurt anymore, but he can't remember why it would.
The walls move out, expand and rise, and suddenly Sam is a tiny toy in a room made for giants. The goddess in front of him is unfamiliar, but she smiles like an old friend as rot moves across her face like shadows. "Are you coming this way Samuel? Wodin would be pleased."
He keeps his head up and both his hands at his sides, trying to remember the best way to look grateful but uninterested. "I have to find Dean."
Her look is almost amused, but she steps aside and gesture him onwards without another word. The hallway reduces in size, cramps down, and Sam passes doorways that open for him without looking into them. Dean won't be in any of these places.
The hallway changes texture, and when Sam trips over a root he stares at it blankly for several moments before it makes sense. He's in a tree. Underneath it really and why not? Nothing else is following the rules of reality at the moment. He keeps going, roots taking over the walls and crumbling through the plaster till all that's left are walls of dirt and thick lines of wood. His fingers touch the roots at first, but they become so cold his skin tingles and his hands shake. He has to pull them back and flex until the feeling returns.
He crosses further, and then the sound of something slithering makes him stop in his tracks. It's so dark here, the only light coming from phosphorescent moss on the walls, and Sam peers through the darkness but he can't see what's making the noise.
A hiss comes from a pocket of shadow in front of him. "Ssssamuel. Isss thisss your time to join me?"
He doesn't know the god's name, but he tries to stand a little straighter. Two serpentine eyes rise out of the darkness, and the tongue tastes the air carefully. The snake is large, so large that the hallways only seems to half-contain him, and the size of his head renders Sam momentarily speechless.
"I want Dean."
It sounds childish, pathetic, and it echoes off the walls and down the hallway even as Sam wishes he could take it back. The serpent hisses in a way that suggests laughter.
"Yessss. You would. Then wait for him, and if you can wait he will come."
Sam stands then, stays still, because Dean always comes. Always leaves and always comes back. Sam knows it in his gut, in his very molecules, and all he has to do is be patient.
But it's cold in the hallway, a cold so deep his bones ache and the heat seeps from his skin. He can barely keep his eyes open all the way and his body is wracked with shivers as he fights to stay upright. Somehow he knows if he lets himself lie down, if he doesn't keep standing perfectly still, the great serpent will eat him. That hissing laughter rises out of the darkness again and it occurs to Sam that maybe he said that aloud. It doesn't matter though because Dean will come.
His fingers and toes lose feeling first, and then the numbness begins to creep up his extremities and the shaking lessens as he loses feeling. When the warmth starts he thinks, hypothermia, but it only gets hotter. So hot he's sweating, and then the hallway is bright. He can see the way the roots weep a strange liquid, how the snake is not a snake but a bearded old man with a wrinkled face and a furrowed brow. Sam turns then and sees Dean. Dean with eyes as bright as the sun. Dean crossing over the roots and holding his arms out.
"Sam. Come away from him. Now." Dean's voice is so powerful dirt drifts from the ceiling and the bearded man hisses and pulls back from Dean's light. It's not a question of wanting it's a question of ability. Sam totters, rocks on his dead limbs, and then staggers the last few steps until he's falling into Dean's arms. Into Dean's warmth.
When he comes to he's in an abandoned house and Dean is holding him so tight Sam can barely breathe. "Dude-you're choking me."
Dean hugs him tighter though, squeezes a strangled noise out of him, and then pulls back. "Sammy. Fuck Sammy. I thought-oh fuck I thought you were gone."
Sam's confused, events too hazy in his mind to get clear. He remembers the ghost town and Jake. The fight. Dean calling out to him. Then there's pain and darkness and now Dean and this moldy old bed. He wants to figure it out but Dean's lips are pressed against his and he can't breathe in a good way now.
Dean stands and pulls Sam up off of the moldy bed and into his arms. His big brother half-carries him out of the room and into a bathroom that has seen better days. There's an old shower that works, although the water pressure is bad and there's no warm water. Sam gasps against the cold, and then Dean's incredible heat is pressed against him. He remembers golden eyes, twin suns, and something about a tree, but then Dean's hands are sliding over his hipbones and palming his sides and Sam's moaning into his brother's mouth.
Dean ghosts his lips down Sam's jaw, works over his neck, and then sucks on his collarbone while he runs fingers over Sam's skin, and everywhere he touches lights up on fire. It's intense in a way it's never been before, and Sam can barely keep his balance. When Dean turns him around to face the wall Sam grabs at it hopelessly and finds only slippery tiles and a soap dish. They've had this problem before, and he's never figured out how to get a grip here. He just has to trust Dean to hold him. It's doubly important now that his legs feel like they can barely keep his weight.
His brother makes a broken and mourning sound behind him, and then Sam feels fingers touch his spine and there's a flare of pain that goes straight to his cock. He wants to ask what it is, but Dean's plunging two fingers into him and starting a different kind of pain even as he bites Sam's left ass cheek and murmurs words that Sam can't understand.
He twists his head but all he can see is the little window set in the wall to his side, the stars glittering out of it and the dark night surrounding them. The water cuts off with no warning and then Dean has him out of the shower and shivering in the middle of the bathroom as he dries him off. Wherever they are May is not spring, because the air in here is freezing, and then Dean's heat is enveloping him as his mouth takes Sam practically down to the root.
He's shaking now, hot and cold clashing and his nerves screaming, but Dean's mouth is so incredible all he can do is moan and grip the short hair in front of him trying to draw strength off his brother. When Dean's mouth leaves him he's led back to the moldy bed, and then lowered down and swallowed again. Dean takes him to the edge and backs off until Sam is incomprehensible. Curses and pleas spill from his lips together all tied in with Dean and when his brother finally enters him Sam sees tears leaking from those beautiful green eyes. He grabs Dean's face but he can't formulate the question and then Dean's kissing him. He watches the sun rise over his brother's shoulder, and when he finally orgasms consciousness swiftly leaves him.
------
He's in a room he doesn't recognize, and he looks around the rough-hewn log walls until he sees why he's here. It's the first time she hasn't traveled to him. Utre is curled into blankets, propped against the wall with a bedroll softening the floor underneath her. She looks up, and her eyes are dull copper in her pale face. She uses one trembling hand to push her hair out of her eyes and he sees that fingers are missing, and the bandages wrapped around them are bloody as if the wounds are fresh, or that they've never closed.
"Samuel. How did you get here? Is Dean alright?"
Sam nods and then clears his throat forcefully. "Yeah. Yeah I-you didn't bring me here?"
Her head is shaking before she seems to realize that's a bad idea, and she leans it back against the wall. "I will not remember this I believe. I am already fragmenting. Is it daytime Sam?"
He turns around but there are no windows or doors in the little room. He remembers Dean's freckled shoulder, and the sun rising behind it. He's pretty sure that part is true. "Yeah. Yeah it's daytime Utre. Don't you always know?"
Her smile is weak, lost, and Sam moves forward and kneels beside her. He wishes he could remember if she really got this hurt, or if the whole thing is some kind of symbol for a greater truth.
"I have-I am not in touch with that anymore. But Dean found you yes? You are both alright?"
His hands go out against his will, touch her flesh and find her as cold as corpse. He's surprised, scared, and his fingers tremble to show that. "We're fine Utre. Fine. What's wrong with you?"
She touches him, the two remaining fingers stroking his and looking and feeling like a doll's bad attempt at repeating real anatomy. "I gave Dean a gift. A very important gift. That is all I know now."
Sam hears the voice before he realizes it's someone else, and that's odd but this is a dream and logic doesn't exactly rule here. "Tell your brother it is time to return. It is beyond time to return."
He turns his head around, sees the god standing there as pale as Utre and wrapped in black. His long hair brushes over his face, and his eyes are hollows of abyss that scare Sam more than anything else in the dream possibly could. He feels power there, power and anger and it puts him on edge.
"Dean isn't-why would he wait for-"
The god steps forward and Sam's suddenly terrified that he's going to be touched. That this thing will touch him and Sam knows instinctively that if he does Sam will go mad.
"Tell your brother it is time to return. Wake up and tell him Sam."
-------
When Sam wakes up it's full day and Dean's dressed, sitting on the floor beside him with his head tucked against his chest and his shoulders rising and falling. There's something strange about the sunlight, something off, and Sam can't quite tell what is. He blinks and pushes himself up, but his arms are trembling too much to hold him properly. Dean wakes at the squeal of bedsprings and is on his feet before Sam can fully figure out what he was getting up for.
"Lie down Sam. Stay down. You don't need to be up yet."
Dean's voice is shaking, but his face is steady and serious. He rubs Sam's shoulder once, hesitantly, and then takes a step back to put space between them. The dream filters back in, and Sam pushes himself back up.
"Dean. I had a dream about Utre. You've gotta go back. Something about a gift and time running out."
He sees the way his brother ducks his head once, hand traveling up to the back of his neck in a dead give-away that Dean is feeling guilty and ashamed. "She can hold out for another day or two Sammy. You had a rough time, and you need to rest."
That rouses anger in him, and he manages to get his legs on the ground and stand fully. Dean's moving towards him but he stops when Sam holds a hand out. "I'm not a little kid anymore Dean. I've been kidnapped before ok? I've been held hostage. I'm not gonna collapse in hysterics because of it. So unless-" It's the look on Dean's face, the memory of last night and what Dean said. That flare of pain when Dean touched his-
Sam's hand slides under his shirt and before Dean can grab him he slides his fingers up and finds it. There's that same flare of pain, prodding an open wound, but what he finds is a thick scar over his spine that he doesn't remember. Except, maybe he does. Dean calling his name, the agony and fear in his voice, and the mud coming up to greet him. The pain and then the loss of sensation. Jake.
"What happened Dean?" The strength has left his voice, which is fitting because it's left his legs too and Dean's barely able to catch him before he hits the floor. He lets himself be held up, and when Dean presses his face against Sam's hair to hide his expression Sam lets him.
"You died Sammy. You died in my goddamn arms because I was too late, just like you were supposed to. Except whatever Utre gave me let me follow you. Let me bring you back." Hiding his face turns out to be irrelevant, because Dean's voice is wrecked and ruined. He threads fingers through Dean's short hair and tries to offer comfort, and he lets Dean's warmth sink into his as he holds his older brother and makes noises instead of words.
They stay that way for a long time, and when Dean has himself under control Sam tries to figure out how to explain the urgency in the dream. "Dean listen, I get it ok? I understand, but we have to go to wherever Utre is. Something is wrong."
Dean's already shaking his head though, eyes narrowed and adopting defiance instead of sorrow. "You're hurt Sammy. You're going to get at least one more day of rest, and that's it. Got me? Utre's a goddess. She knew I wouldn't be back that quickly."
Sam wants to respond, to argue, to ask how quickly, and how far beyond that time they've gone. Instead he lets Dean push their mouths together, lets himself be distracted, and spends the rest of the day letting Dean take care of him.
------
He dreams that night of a dark hallway and tree roots, of a snake voice calling to him, and then there's light and Dean is there.
Except it's not Dean. It's Utre, and she's not illuminated she's dim. Dying. Sam knows it the minute he sees her. Her eyes are glazed over, and she stares at nothing as her wounded hands lay lifeless in her lap. It's the stillest he's ever seen her with her eyes open, and Sam kneels down beside her and touches her face. She's wrapped in something, and at first he thinks it's the blanket from his last dream but he quickly realizes it's a shroud. His hands shake as he takes her shoulders and feels the cold radiating off her flesh.
"Utre. Utre what's-fuck-" He can't even ask her because he knows. Knows what has happened. Her head lifts slightly to the sound of his voice and her lips twitch in a gruesome half-curl.
"Samuel. Did Dean find you?" She sounds like she's talking from the grave. Like she's been dead a hundred years and her throat is full of dust and rot.
He wants to cry but he can't, can't make his face react the way it needs to. "Yeah. Yeah he found me. We're coming back now ok? Just hold out and we'll be there soon. I promise."
There's that hideous twitch again and then her mutilated hand touches his throat and travels up to his face. "Too late. Tell him I am sorry, but it is too late. My poor little boy. All that burden all the time." She sounds so sorrowful and gone that Sam swallows thickly and pulls back. Can't face the truth of it. He turns to slam into a feathered breast.
When he pulls back to look the swan is tall, towers over him as he's kneeling, and he blinks against the double vision of the bird and the beautiful woman.
"Tell your brother he is a murderer. Tell him we never forget, and we never forgive. He had his chance."
Sam's shaking his head even as he pushes himself up. He looks to Utre for support but she's not there anymore, just a shroud over a pile of ashes. He turns back to the swan and is surprised to find she's gone, replaced by the god from the night before. His face is somber and threatening.
"Tell your brother he is a murderer. Tell him we take care of our own. Tell him everything has a price."
He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around again to see a little girl, eyes bright like the sun and hair shining golden around her face. "Wake up Samuel. You are not safe here any longer."
------
Breathless and shaking, Sam wakes up to Dean staring at him in horror. He shakes his head, wipes the sweat and tears off his skin, and then pushes himself out of the bed. "We're leaving Dean."
Whatever he was saying in his sleep, whatever voices were saying it for him, Dean doesn't argue. They pack into the Impala and Sam touches the scar again as Dean starts the car. The low rumble of the engine is comforting, but Sam's horrified when the radio kicks on. Dean flips channels, moves through news report after news report as if the message will change with the station. Finally Sam halts his progress so they can listen to one entirely.
Scientists from around the globe have gathered in Cape Canaveral in an attempt to explain the phenomena. As it stands now we only know that the sun has begun to rapidly lose energy. The result is a global cooling, about three degrees in the last three days. At this rate, scientists predict that another few days will send us into a major crisis. A crisis that, according to one scientist, "will result in the mass deaths of entire ecosystems, and eventually the world". A conference of politicians will meet tomorrow in Geneva to discuss further action. At this time there are no-
Sam doesn't fight Dean when he pushes a Metallica tape in and starts it up. Lets the music reach ear-splitting levels and stays silent as they cross the miles. By the time they reach their destination he has a ringing headache, and his hands are numb from being clenched so tightly. The sun has risen, but the light is sickly and strange. When Sam looks at his brother he sees those glowing eyes again, not green but gold, and gets the feeling that everything has spun so far out of control that nothing can be fixed.
"How long since she gave it to you?" He doesn't think he needs to clarify, and Dean proves him right.
"Six days." His brother flexes his fingers on the wheel and maneuvers his way through the reservation.
"How long were you supposed to have it?"
He knows the answer before Dean gives it. It's always the same in lore and mythology. In fairytales too, and this is sort of like that. Dean crossed over into the underworld for him. Dean stole him from death. Tell him everything has a price.
"Three." Dean's voice is tight, tighter than his face, and Sam wants to touch him but he knows instinctively that Dean would push him away. Knows in his bones that Dean's scared, and liable to bite any hand offered to him.
They get out at the main lodge, and Sam follows Dean through the door and into a silent mass of gods and goddesses. All the patrons of the bar are here, and they stare at Dean with varying intensities and emotions. Sam follows him silently, head ducked to avoid the worst of them, and is glad when Coyote greets them at the end of the lodge. The god's voice is gentle when he lays a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"You're just in time kid. She's waiting for Daz to come send her off."
Dean shakes his head once, either to deny the time comment or the sending off Sam's not sure, and then pushes into the little room. Sam follows and recognizes it as the first one he dreamed about. Utre is there, wrapped in so many blankets she's just a swaddled head, and her face lifts at the sound of the door.
Her eyes-it's hard for Sam to look. They're the color of corroded pennies and they weave in and out of focus as she runs them over the length of the room. Dean's moving so fast it's dizzying, and then he's kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands as gently as he can. Sam sees her struggle in the blankets for a second, and then her bloodless lips purse and she licks them once. "Sweetling. My hands are trapped. Help?"
Dean moves so carefully it's like she's made of spun glass, and once her hands are free she puts her whole one on his shoulder and the wounded one on his face. She doesn't speak again immediately, simply gives the same gruesome excuse for a smile he saw in his dream. Dean is the one who breaks the silence.
"Ok. Ok Utre I'm here now. It's all good and I'm gonna give it back so just-fuck Utre just take it back." Dean sounds as bad as he did when he admitted Sam died. Wounded and broken, and Sam wants to go to him but this is their moment. He likes Utre, likes her a lot, but she's not his mother. He'd felt this way for years when dad or Dean talked about Mary, their real mother, and now he's watching Dean say goodbye to the second woman willing to take that role. He thought of Missouri briefly, and swallowed hard.
"No sweetling. That time has passed. Did you find Sam? I cannot remember if you told me." Her voice is wasted, hollowed out again just like the dream, and he watches her lick dry lips again and convey no moisture to them at all. It's like she's dry-rotting in the sun. It's a hideous thing to see.
"Yes Utre. I found him. That's his big ass over there." It's forced gaiety so hard to hear Sam almost shouts at Dean to shut the fuck up. Utre's eyes move and then she twitches helplessly in place.
"Oh of course. There he is." But her eyes aren't anywhere near Sam and she's not really able to see anyway. Sam knows that, and Dean has to as well. "I am so glad. It is alright now."
Dean breaks. Falls apart in front of Sam like a house of cards in a strong wind, and Sam can't hold back the tears when Dean starts crying. He presses his face against Utre's lank hair and sobs into it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry mom. Please-fuck please just don't leave me."
Her mangled hand strokes his hair, and then she makes a crooning sound that rattles in her chest. "It is alright sweetling. This is what was to be. We won though. You found Sam, and that is what matters. Where is he?"
Dean sucks in one harsh breath after another and then pulls her tight up into his arms. He cradles her like a baby as he rocks back and forth. "What was I supposed to do mom? He was dead. What was I supposed to do?"
"I dreamed of you once. Long and long ago before you were born. Face so serious and eyes so big. Green the color of the treetops in heaven. I knew then you were worth it. Always worth it. My sweetling. My little boy."
"Shut up. Oh please-shit just-just stop saying goodbye."
She lets him rock her, murmurs something too quiet for Sam to hear, and then the door opens with a loud noise and Sam is turning towards it at the same time as Dean. Vecher is there, with a barrel-chested god that Sam has never seen before. His face is harsh and hard, and Sam reaches out to stop him but Vecher grabs his hands before he can. The god steps in front of Dean and Utre, studies them for a few seconds, and then nods his head.
It's like a magic spell, the breaking of something so precious and simple that Sam can't figure out what to call it. Dean's heart or his innocence or his hope. Sam's not sure. But the blankets collapse in his arms and he's left holding nothing but bloody cloth and his own broken dreams. The sound that comes out of him is like a wounded animal, and it's echoed in the main chamber till the walls shake with it. The god looks unmoved, and he eyes Dean for a time before he speaks. It's a voice Sam knows, accent-less and cold, and he hasn't heard it since the day he found the psychic that told him where Dean was.
"My daughter is gone. You asked what you were supposed to do? It was this. All along it was this. You will be the dawn now."
He looks once to Sam, then to Vecher's tear-stained face, and then he's gone as if he was never there at all. All that's left is the sound of Dean shattering on the floor, and the murmurs from the lodge. Sam's not sure when Coyote entered the room, but the god kneels next to Dean and gently removes the bundle from his arms.
"There's a way Dean. There's a way to fix it, but I don't think you can do it kid. Don't think anybody can."
Sam's not surprised when Dean looks up, and speaks in a tone that could kill anyone in hearing range. It's the first time in his life that Sam has been afraid of his brother instead of for him. "Tell me."
------
June's finger is not just pointed at the Hindu goddess of destruction and rebirth, it's pressed into the flesh and pushing further. "Of course he'll go. Dean will go because he's a good son."
Kali's mouth opens but a beautiful Asian goddess steps up and interrupts them, tone gentle and sweet. "Juno it has nothing to do with him being a good son. He could never find all the pieces, and even if he did he wouldn't come back alive."
The two little African girls hold each other a bit tighter and wail while Wednesday pushed himself into the conversation, his one eye squinted tightly. "You suggesting Dean can't fight his way out of there? I taught the boy everything I know. If anyone can get out it's him."
A short and twitchy god shook his head in disgust. "You taught Loki too, and he didn't get out. Your training doesn't mean Dean Winchester can get through the Labyrinth better than anyone else."
The fight began then, shoving to prove dominance and shouting over each other. Vecher was leaning against the wall beside Sam, and Coyote was on his other side watching the argument with no sparkle of amusement. Sam turned to Vecher.
"I don't understand any of this. Why can't one of the other sun gods take up the slack? Ra or Apollo or somebody? There's a wealth of them out there. And what the hell is the Labyrinth?"
At some point after Coyote had laid out the basics and before Dean had asked them all to leave Vecher had gotten herself under control. She watches the crowd as she answers. "The Labyrinth is a place of punishment for gods that abandon their duties. As for vhy Utre's job is so important-" She shrugged and closed her dark eyes. Coyote took over.
"We still have followers Sam. Some of us more than others, but as long as you people keep praying we keep doing our jobs. If even one of us slips that combined belief-it falls on deaf ears. Your brother has two choices. Get Utre out or be the new god on the block. Otherwise Utre's followers will continue to be ignored, and the sun will die in the sky."
Sam's head is shaking even if he doesn't want it to. A god went flying past them and slammed into the lodge wall. "She didn't abandon anything. Why is she being punished?"
Vecher's eyes stayed closed. "She gave her power villingly to your brother. She could not do her duties, could not continue to keep the door closed and the universe moving. As such she is relegated to the depths of the Labyrinth."
"And the Labyrinth ain't Veles's little treehouse either kid. This is a serious place. Gods don't go there because we're useless once we cross the border. Dean's gonna be a mortal in that place, and he's gonna have to dig through every layer of it to gather the pieces of her back up before he can try to put her back together. That would be impossible enough, but add on the fact that then he has to get her out without being trapped himself? It's basically-"
"Impossible." Vecher rubs at her closed eyes for a second before opening them and fixing them on Sam. "So you must go vith him. Alone? Impossible. Good money after bad I believe you say."
Sam remembered all the times Utre fucked up colloquial phrases. How hard Dean had laughed at the little old man in Boondock Saints. Pointed and howled while stammering out, "That's you Utre!" Despite all the time she spent with people she seemed unable to grasp the concept of sayings, but Vecher got it in one try. It was sort of unfair. More importantly it was fucking odd.
"He won't let me." Sam knew it. Had known it since the first moment Coyote suggested it, the same way he knew Dean would go. Had to go because he would never live with this regret. This guilt.
It was almost movie-perfect timing, the way the door slammed open and all the gods fell silent, some in mid-strike. Dean stood at the head of the room, eyes flaming and body taut, and Sam couldn't help but marvel at the way he already looked like a god. A statue that people should worship.
Fuck it he would make Dean let him come. Make him because Sam was tired of Dean leaving to protect him. Look how it kept working out.
Dean eyed the crowd, face daring someone to question him, and then took a deep breath. "I'm going. Someone tell me how."
------
The god stroked Dean's face thoughtfully before he nodded. His dark skin against Dean's was an interesting contrast, and Sam watched how hard Dean struggled to hold still under the god's touch. "You are powerful enough to cross the border. First will be purification. Then you will receive gifts, and hopefully there will be enough. After that the hard parts begin, and then you are on your own."
"Actually, he's with me." Sam almost loved the comical way Dean's eyes flew wide at that, or how his brother tried to mask it with anger.
"You are not coming Sam. Wipe that right out of your goofy fucking head. It's way too-"
"Dangerous Dean? Like every other time you've taken off? Too dangerous? Well look how it's always ended when you leave alone without me to guard your back." It's a low blow, Sam knows it and Dean's face says it, but it has to be done. Has to be done so Dean won't leave alone again. The god shifts uncomfortably and steps back and away. His wife moves forward easily and takes Dean's hands.
"This is a good thing Dean. A good thing. You will need help, and you will need to trust that help. Who better than your brother?"
Dean's look said anybody, anywhere, was better than Sam. He didn't take it personally. Instead he cuffed Dean once heavily and then turned to the goddess and tried to figure out who she was without asking.
"What does purification take?" She nodded once as if that was an answer and then led them to the door to the lodge. She opened it onto a desert oasis, and Sam sucked in a breath before stepping out onto the sand. The heat of the sun was still there in the shifting ground, but the air was cold from the night winds. She pointed to the little pond and Sam stepped up to the edge of it and stared at Dean for a long time.
They undressed slowly, gazes locked as if it was the first time, and then walked into the water until Dean was up to his neck and Sam's shoulders were almost covered. Dean cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge and Sam grinned back. He knew the basics of this, understood the principle and the meaning behind the whole gesture, and the moon shining in the water brightened as he cupped the cool liquid into his hands and gently poured it over Dean's head. Sam had been baptized in fire, but now he was clean again under the cold desert moonlight. He glanced at the goddess as Dean poured water over his head, saw the way her dark eyes shone in the moonlight, and then it was over and he was purified. Which was why he was surprised to feel the heat of his brother's body pressed against him, lips covering his, and a hand stroking his already half-hard length.
He didn't fight it though, slid down so that Dean could encircle both of their cocks with his hand, and moaned into his brother's mouth as he gripped helplessly at Dean's shoulders. He forgot about the deity watching them, the open air around them, or what they were about to do. All that mattered was Dean's hand, Dean's cock, and the knowledge that this was the best it could be. The best it could ever be. Dean ate the sounds of out of his mouth and returned his own. Pushed Sam to the brink and over, and afterwards they leaned against each other for support panting into the cold air.
When they exited she was smiling at them, face placid and calm otherwise, and then she leaned in and kissed them both on the forehead. "You have my and my husband's blessings. Good luck Winchesters."
Sam followed Dean through the doorway and back into the lodge, where a line of gods and goddesses waited for them. It was almost intimidating, but the way they acted like children ready to impress their teachers made it a bit easier to handle. Even more when Dean casually brushed against him as if he wasn't trying to offer Sam comfort with the gesture. Sam grunted to acknowledge it was welcome, and that was enough. They could do this. They could do this together. Anything really, and once Sam realized that it was a hell of a lot less scary despite Vecher's words.
The first to step forward was a woman with the slanted eyes of a cat. She unslung a bag from her left shoulder and held it out to Dean before kissing his cheek. Her smile was tremulous and she turned away quickly after it was done. The man that followed her stared at the two of them for a long time, and then passed a lunar disk to Dean and pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Had I have judged her I would have found her wanting nothing."
The dark man that came next was cold, and Sam was reminded of the hallway he dreamt of filled with tree roots. He passed Dean a red ribbon, and then nodded once to Sam before stepping away. Ishtar came after him and her eyes were dark and full. She gave Dean a small stuffed lion and whispered in his ear. Sam would have to ask about that later. The couple that came behind her gave Dean a little jug of liquid and a grand mace. The woman, queenly in every respect, kissed Sam's cheek without having to rise up to try, and then patted his face seriously. "Take care of him. We're relying on you as well."
Dean rolled his eyes. "No pressure huh Nin?" She simply looked at him.
June pushed her way in front of her bearded husband and held out a small box. Her eyes were shining, and she pulled Dean into a hug so tight that his brother didn't look to be breathing for a few seconds. When she released him she began to cry, and her husband gently pulled her away before stepping in and handing Dean an oak branch. "You'll be fine boy. You're too much a fighter for anything else."
Wednesday pushed his way into the line then, big chest heaving and one eye fixed and focused. His ravens fluttered away as he got closer, and when he stopped in front of Dean the big spear in his hands trembled softly. "I call it Gungnir. Never let anybody really borrow it before. You use it when the time is right. Show these doubting bastards what I taught you." Dean nodded and Wednesday wiped conspicuously at one eye. "I always believed in you boy. Tough as nails."
Vecher led the last three of the contingent. The man behind her stood taller than Sam, and his hawkish features took in the room as he walked regally ahead of Vecher and held out a small jar. Fire danced inside of it, and he squinted once down at Dean before clearing his throat. "My granddaughter believed in you. Both of you. Make her right."
The two women behind him held onto each other, mirror images in a way that didn't invite consideration. The sloppy one stumbled forward and pushed hair out of her eyes only to snag her fingers in it. She frowned at that and then leaned forward and plucked a button off Dean's shirt, ripping it in the process. Dean jerked once, but the woman stumbled past him to do the same to Sam. He held perfectly still, and she eyes him for a bit before shambling back to Vecher. The woman behind her walked easily, gracefully, and she kissed Dean once on the forehead, and then moved to kiss Sam as well. "What my sister Zia takes, I Dobra give."
Which left only Vecher, and she looked around the room before she stepped forward. She didn't look to Dean though. Her eyes stayed focused solely on Sam, and she grabbed his arm and jerked downwards so that their faces were even. "Good money after bad. Say you are not that."
"I'm not good money after bad." He tried to keep his voice clear, but he stuttered slightly when he saw the way Dean's thoughts turned. He wondered if he was remembering the old bartender in the movie too.
Vecher kissed him on the lips, tasting of snow and ice, winter winds and the moon in a clear night's sky. Which was weird because Sam had never-
But then she was stepping back and her eyes were a dull flat blue, still dark but no longer shining or powerful. "You have three days. That is an infinite amount of time in the Labyrinth, but this time vhen you come back do not dawdle." Despite the words her tone was almost gentle, and then she stepped back and nodded to Dean. "Go get my sister."
-----
Coyote stares at the cellar door for a long time before he looks over his shoulder at the two of them. "You boys know what the difference is between fate and destiny?"
Dean shakes his head but Sam thinks he may have an answer. He senses though that he's supposed to say no, so he does.
"Destiny is changeable. Happens due to actions. Your fortunetellers and palm readers read destiny and tell you all about it. Then you make it happen or you try to stop it. Fate though. What a bitch. Fate happens no matter what." Coyote eyes the door again before stepping away from it. "You know what your fate is?"
Dean simply cocks an eyebrow, but Sam takes the bait. "No Coyote. What is it?"
He shrugs once, no smile anywhere in evidence. "No clue. I'm not a fucking oracle. Good luck boys."
Next Chapter
Wordcount: 8,617
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Notes: The only fic I never transferred over, and my first attempt at a chapter story.
Summary: An intervention of pagan forces splits the brothers when they are young. Growing up apart and alone what will they do to be reunited, and how will they fight what is considered their destiny?
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
Sam woke up in a dark and damp room with strangers. He looked around at the faces and knew them, recognized them, but he couldn't remember where from. The last clear thing he remembered was hearing the door downstairs being smashed, and then the smell of fire and smoke. Something inside him had gone liquid even as he was grabbing his shoes and heading for the bedroom door. Utre had come stumbling past him, eyes so bright that he didn't need to turn on any lights, and then she had started fighting. The rest was a blur of blood and screaming, fires roaring everywhere even as the smoke choked him until the world went dark. Then here, with these people, and no idea how he got there in the first place. The twitchy guy in front of him holds out one hand and smiles shakily.
"I'm Andy. Who are you?"
And there it is. The dream. Sam dreamed of these people, dreamed of the yellow-eyed demon being here, and he knows without having to dissect things that Dean and dad were tricked. Dean left and now here he is. Dean's always leaving, and Sam's always finding himself worse off than before.
Sam holds his own hand out and shakes Andy's while looking around at the other kidnapped people. The blonde avoids his gaze, but the black soldier and the delicate looking young woman both move forward and introduce themselves.
"Ava."
"Jake."
Sam nods at both of them and then clears smoke from his throat. "Sam. Do we know why we're here?"
He knows. Knows deep in his bones the way he knew how to find the woman that would lead him to Dean. Still this may not be the audience for that sort of information.
Andy shakes his head even as he answers. "Yeah I think so. See we all seem…uh…special you know? Able to do stuff? Can you do stuff Sam?"
Well maybe this is the right audience. "What do you mean by stuff?"
Jake steps forward and lifts the ratty old couch with one hand, his eyebrow cocked in something that Sam recognizes as macho posturing. Ava looks away for a second before blushing and digging her toe into the old carpet. "I dream the future." Her voice drops with every word until she's barely audible. Sam looks to Andy and sees the open and honest look of a young man that's never had many friends, but always deserved them.
"I can make people do things. With my mind." Andy rubs at the back of his neck and Sam's painfully reminded of Dean. Dean will look for me.
The blonde glares at all of them and takes another step back, her arms wrapped so tightly around her skinny frame it's like she's trying to hold herself in. "I kill people with my touch. So yeah, nothing fun like precognition or super strength."
Sam winces and then turns to Ava. "I have those same dreams. They're usually kind of fragmented, but I can understand them sometimes."
Ava's nodding eagerly and smiling suddenly. "Yeah. Yeah I have that a lot too. Wow." She seems overly breathless, and Sam gets the feeling she's trying to draw his attention to her not inconsiderable breasts.
Jake shakes his head and gives Sam a knowing grin. "Ok, so we're all freaks. Now let's figure out how we got here."
Turns out their origin stories aren't much help either. Their memories are fragmented at best, and not there at worst. Most of them were just grabbed while sleeping. Sam edits his story heavily to protect just how out of the normal loop he is. When he suggests the salt lines they all give him unsure looks, but Andy's willing to try anything.
So when Lily ends up dead Sam's pretty sure something is wrong beyond the demon and the town, but finding Andy dead cements that.
-----
They've been there over a day and now it's just Jake and Sam. The sleeplessness is getting to them, and they take turns getting rest. Sam takes the first shift and watches Jake twitch and mutter in his sleep. When the soldier wakes up he has a strange look in his eyes, and Sam tries to ignore how unsettled he feels so that he can get his own rest. He falls asleep so quickly it's like a magic trick.
In his dream the yellow-eyed demon is circling him, face on the edge of pleasure and anger. "You gotta do something and soon Sammy. Only one of you can survive, and if you're not quick boy it won't be you."
Sam looks around the village and then back to the demon. "Dean's coming. When he gets here Jake and I will just leave. You're not going to win."
The demon shakes his head and gives Sam a mournful look. "You're it Sammy. Jake can hope all he wants but you've been it since the beginning boy. The rest of this was just window-dressing and misdirection. Nothing your brother or that golden-eyed bitch do can change that." But he doesn't look sure, and Sam catches that.
"Bullshit. I'm going to wake up and we're going to wait it out. Wait for Dean."
The demon looks away fro a second and then turns back. All pretense of pleasantry gone from his face. "That bitch is dying, and her little friends won't be able to find you here. Your brother will end bloody and it will all be your fault. Just give in Sam. Just play along and you can keep them all as pets. Wouldn't you like that? Dean'll never leave you again son. Never turn his back on you for some valiant cause. Instead he'll kneel at your feet, love you, and be everything you ever wanted."
Sam's already turning away, forcing himself to wake up. "That's never been what I wanted."
He remembers the night Dean woke him up, drugged on Ishtar's influence and unable to help the words spilling from his mouth. Remembers the way "I love you" sounded rolling off Dean's tongue. Take the fire out of his brother's eyes? The defiance out of his spirit? Better to kill him because Sam's never wanted anything other than that Dean. The one that said he'd burn the world down.
He wakes to Jake watching him, and he knows without a doubt that the demon has given Jake the same ultimatum. He shakes his head once and pushes himself to his feet.
"We just have to wait. Dean's coming. I know it."
They leave the building, wander the empty streets of the ghost town and Sam finds himself constantly fixating on the bell in the middle. It should mean something, but it doesn't, and Sam's not sure why. The sun has risen on the official second day of their time there, and Sam hears Jake take a deep breath behind him.
"Look Sam, I think you seem like a really nice guy." Sam hears the but and his whole body goes tight, but he can't turn around. He can sense Dean, feel him, and that's enough. "But the demon he-I'm sorry Sam." Which is when the blow comes and Sam's flying across the muddy ground and slamming into an old rotten fence.
He scrambles, pain from his shoulder screaming dislocation as he fights to keep his head together. Dad's trained him for this, taught him how to ignore pain and focus on the enemy, but Jake shouldn't be the enemy. They're in this together. He tries to get that out but Jake's already there and Sam barely dodges a blow that would take his head. His hand comes down on a pipe and he grabs it tightly before pushing himself up.
His dislocated shoulder hangs at a bad angle, and he can't stabilize the arm so he does more damage letting it swing while he moves towards Jake. "Don't." It's the best he can manage.
Jake comes at him, a freight train of motion and violence, and Sam takes a step to the side at just the right second and swings the pipe. Catches Jake in the base of the skull and watches him stagger drunkenly. It's not enough yet though and Sam knows it. He swings again and again until Jake goes down, and then drops the pipe. If there's any hope left Jake will wake up with one hell of a headache and no blood on his hands. He thinks of Ava and Andy and Lily, of how they've all turned on each other or been destroyed. If the devil is all about the temptation of innocents then this has been a pretty big victory.
He's staggering through the main street, pain clouding his thoughts so badly he's almost willing to test the boundary theory just to get out on his own. Which is when he hears Dean shouting his name. He looks up to see his brother with a somber looking Coyote behind him. He speeds up, feet slipping in the mud as he eagerly pushes his aching body towards Dean's strong warmth. He sees an odd flash in Dean's green eyes, a change in expression, and then Dean is screaming his name as Coyote opens his mouth in shock. Which is when the sharp pain hits him.
It's his spine, but it's everything, and the fire racing along his nerves coupled with the sudden loss of sensation in his lower body are bad. He knows it but he doesn't know why. Time folds on itself, and then Dean is there and catching him, lowering him so Sam doesn't fall into the mud hard. He's glad because his knees are the only part of him that don't hurt, but that may be because he can't feel them. Dean's eyes though, they're golden, and he thinks of Missouri when he passed out crying. Missouri who wasn't really Missouri.
"It's alright Sammy. It's alright I got you. I got you." Dean is moving but Sam can't track his movements properly. His eyes are too busy losing focus. "It's not even that bad man. It's ok." Dean sounds like he's crying, and Sam wants to tell him it's ok but there's no breath in his lungs. Which is when he loses Dean and the rest of the world in sharp pitch into darkness.
-----
Sam's in a dim hallway, and there's a woman in front of him. She's the dark-haired Native-American lady that Coyote is always teasing. Raven. He's sure it's Raven. Her eyes glint at him and then she holds out one feathered hand and smiles softly. "Is this the way you want to go?"
Sam shakes his head, tries to remember how he got here or why she'd be here, and simply can't. "I want to go to Dean."
"Then I am not your guide Samuel."
She disappears, and Sam stumbles further down the hallway. His shoulder doesn't hurt anymore, but he can't remember why it would.
The walls move out, expand and rise, and suddenly Sam is a tiny toy in a room made for giants. The goddess in front of him is unfamiliar, but she smiles like an old friend as rot moves across her face like shadows. "Are you coming this way Samuel? Wodin would be pleased."
He keeps his head up and both his hands at his sides, trying to remember the best way to look grateful but uninterested. "I have to find Dean."
Her look is almost amused, but she steps aside and gesture him onwards without another word. The hallway reduces in size, cramps down, and Sam passes doorways that open for him without looking into them. Dean won't be in any of these places.
The hallway changes texture, and when Sam trips over a root he stares at it blankly for several moments before it makes sense. He's in a tree. Underneath it really and why not? Nothing else is following the rules of reality at the moment. He keeps going, roots taking over the walls and crumbling through the plaster till all that's left are walls of dirt and thick lines of wood. His fingers touch the roots at first, but they become so cold his skin tingles and his hands shake. He has to pull them back and flex until the feeling returns.
He crosses further, and then the sound of something slithering makes him stop in his tracks. It's so dark here, the only light coming from phosphorescent moss on the walls, and Sam peers through the darkness but he can't see what's making the noise.
A hiss comes from a pocket of shadow in front of him. "Ssssamuel. Isss thisss your time to join me?"
He doesn't know the god's name, but he tries to stand a little straighter. Two serpentine eyes rise out of the darkness, and the tongue tastes the air carefully. The snake is large, so large that the hallways only seems to half-contain him, and the size of his head renders Sam momentarily speechless.
"I want Dean."
It sounds childish, pathetic, and it echoes off the walls and down the hallway even as Sam wishes he could take it back. The serpent hisses in a way that suggests laughter.
"Yessss. You would. Then wait for him, and if you can wait he will come."
Sam stands then, stays still, because Dean always comes. Always leaves and always comes back. Sam knows it in his gut, in his very molecules, and all he has to do is be patient.
But it's cold in the hallway, a cold so deep his bones ache and the heat seeps from his skin. He can barely keep his eyes open all the way and his body is wracked with shivers as he fights to stay upright. Somehow he knows if he lets himself lie down, if he doesn't keep standing perfectly still, the great serpent will eat him. That hissing laughter rises out of the darkness again and it occurs to Sam that maybe he said that aloud. It doesn't matter though because Dean will come.
His fingers and toes lose feeling first, and then the numbness begins to creep up his extremities and the shaking lessens as he loses feeling. When the warmth starts he thinks, hypothermia, but it only gets hotter. So hot he's sweating, and then the hallway is bright. He can see the way the roots weep a strange liquid, how the snake is not a snake but a bearded old man with a wrinkled face and a furrowed brow. Sam turns then and sees Dean. Dean with eyes as bright as the sun. Dean crossing over the roots and holding his arms out.
"Sam. Come away from him. Now." Dean's voice is so powerful dirt drifts from the ceiling and the bearded man hisses and pulls back from Dean's light. It's not a question of wanting it's a question of ability. Sam totters, rocks on his dead limbs, and then staggers the last few steps until he's falling into Dean's arms. Into Dean's warmth.
When he comes to he's in an abandoned house and Dean is holding him so tight Sam can barely breathe. "Dude-you're choking me."
Dean hugs him tighter though, squeezes a strangled noise out of him, and then pulls back. "Sammy. Fuck Sammy. I thought-oh fuck I thought you were gone."
Sam's confused, events too hazy in his mind to get clear. He remembers the ghost town and Jake. The fight. Dean calling out to him. Then there's pain and darkness and now Dean and this moldy old bed. He wants to figure it out but Dean's lips are pressed against his and he can't breathe in a good way now.
Dean stands and pulls Sam up off of the moldy bed and into his arms. His big brother half-carries him out of the room and into a bathroom that has seen better days. There's an old shower that works, although the water pressure is bad and there's no warm water. Sam gasps against the cold, and then Dean's incredible heat is pressed against him. He remembers golden eyes, twin suns, and something about a tree, but then Dean's hands are sliding over his hipbones and palming his sides and Sam's moaning into his brother's mouth.
Dean ghosts his lips down Sam's jaw, works over his neck, and then sucks on his collarbone while he runs fingers over Sam's skin, and everywhere he touches lights up on fire. It's intense in a way it's never been before, and Sam can barely keep his balance. When Dean turns him around to face the wall Sam grabs at it hopelessly and finds only slippery tiles and a soap dish. They've had this problem before, and he's never figured out how to get a grip here. He just has to trust Dean to hold him. It's doubly important now that his legs feel like they can barely keep his weight.
His brother makes a broken and mourning sound behind him, and then Sam feels fingers touch his spine and there's a flare of pain that goes straight to his cock. He wants to ask what it is, but Dean's plunging two fingers into him and starting a different kind of pain even as he bites Sam's left ass cheek and murmurs words that Sam can't understand.
He twists his head but all he can see is the little window set in the wall to his side, the stars glittering out of it and the dark night surrounding them. The water cuts off with no warning and then Dean has him out of the shower and shivering in the middle of the bathroom as he dries him off. Wherever they are May is not spring, because the air in here is freezing, and then Dean's heat is enveloping him as his mouth takes Sam practically down to the root.
He's shaking now, hot and cold clashing and his nerves screaming, but Dean's mouth is so incredible all he can do is moan and grip the short hair in front of him trying to draw strength off his brother. When Dean's mouth leaves him he's led back to the moldy bed, and then lowered down and swallowed again. Dean takes him to the edge and backs off until Sam is incomprehensible. Curses and pleas spill from his lips together all tied in with Dean and when his brother finally enters him Sam sees tears leaking from those beautiful green eyes. He grabs Dean's face but he can't formulate the question and then Dean's kissing him. He watches the sun rise over his brother's shoulder, and when he finally orgasms consciousness swiftly leaves him.
------
He's in a room he doesn't recognize, and he looks around the rough-hewn log walls until he sees why he's here. It's the first time she hasn't traveled to him. Utre is curled into blankets, propped against the wall with a bedroll softening the floor underneath her. She looks up, and her eyes are dull copper in her pale face. She uses one trembling hand to push her hair out of her eyes and he sees that fingers are missing, and the bandages wrapped around them are bloody as if the wounds are fresh, or that they've never closed.
"Samuel. How did you get here? Is Dean alright?"
Sam nods and then clears his throat forcefully. "Yeah. Yeah I-you didn't bring me here?"
Her head is shaking before she seems to realize that's a bad idea, and she leans it back against the wall. "I will not remember this I believe. I am already fragmenting. Is it daytime Sam?"
He turns around but there are no windows or doors in the little room. He remembers Dean's freckled shoulder, and the sun rising behind it. He's pretty sure that part is true. "Yeah. Yeah it's daytime Utre. Don't you always know?"
Her smile is weak, lost, and Sam moves forward and kneels beside her. He wishes he could remember if she really got this hurt, or if the whole thing is some kind of symbol for a greater truth.
"I have-I am not in touch with that anymore. But Dean found you yes? You are both alright?"
His hands go out against his will, touch her flesh and find her as cold as corpse. He's surprised, scared, and his fingers tremble to show that. "We're fine Utre. Fine. What's wrong with you?"
She touches him, the two remaining fingers stroking his and looking and feeling like a doll's bad attempt at repeating real anatomy. "I gave Dean a gift. A very important gift. That is all I know now."
Sam hears the voice before he realizes it's someone else, and that's odd but this is a dream and logic doesn't exactly rule here. "Tell your brother it is time to return. It is beyond time to return."
He turns his head around, sees the god standing there as pale as Utre and wrapped in black. His long hair brushes over his face, and his eyes are hollows of abyss that scare Sam more than anything else in the dream possibly could. He feels power there, power and anger and it puts him on edge.
"Dean isn't-why would he wait for-"
The god steps forward and Sam's suddenly terrified that he's going to be touched. That this thing will touch him and Sam knows instinctively that if he does Sam will go mad.
"Tell your brother it is time to return. Wake up and tell him Sam."
-------
When Sam wakes up it's full day and Dean's dressed, sitting on the floor beside him with his head tucked against his chest and his shoulders rising and falling. There's something strange about the sunlight, something off, and Sam can't quite tell what is. He blinks and pushes himself up, but his arms are trembling too much to hold him properly. Dean wakes at the squeal of bedsprings and is on his feet before Sam can fully figure out what he was getting up for.
"Lie down Sam. Stay down. You don't need to be up yet."
Dean's voice is shaking, but his face is steady and serious. He rubs Sam's shoulder once, hesitantly, and then takes a step back to put space between them. The dream filters back in, and Sam pushes himself back up.
"Dean. I had a dream about Utre. You've gotta go back. Something about a gift and time running out."
He sees the way his brother ducks his head once, hand traveling up to the back of his neck in a dead give-away that Dean is feeling guilty and ashamed. "She can hold out for another day or two Sammy. You had a rough time, and you need to rest."
That rouses anger in him, and he manages to get his legs on the ground and stand fully. Dean's moving towards him but he stops when Sam holds a hand out. "I'm not a little kid anymore Dean. I've been kidnapped before ok? I've been held hostage. I'm not gonna collapse in hysterics because of it. So unless-" It's the look on Dean's face, the memory of last night and what Dean said. That flare of pain when Dean touched his-
Sam's hand slides under his shirt and before Dean can grab him he slides his fingers up and finds it. There's that same flare of pain, prodding an open wound, but what he finds is a thick scar over his spine that he doesn't remember. Except, maybe he does. Dean calling his name, the agony and fear in his voice, and the mud coming up to greet him. The pain and then the loss of sensation. Jake.
"What happened Dean?" The strength has left his voice, which is fitting because it's left his legs too and Dean's barely able to catch him before he hits the floor. He lets himself be held up, and when Dean presses his face against Sam's hair to hide his expression Sam lets him.
"You died Sammy. You died in my goddamn arms because I was too late, just like you were supposed to. Except whatever Utre gave me let me follow you. Let me bring you back." Hiding his face turns out to be irrelevant, because Dean's voice is wrecked and ruined. He threads fingers through Dean's short hair and tries to offer comfort, and he lets Dean's warmth sink into his as he holds his older brother and makes noises instead of words.
They stay that way for a long time, and when Dean has himself under control Sam tries to figure out how to explain the urgency in the dream. "Dean listen, I get it ok? I understand, but we have to go to wherever Utre is. Something is wrong."
Dean's already shaking his head though, eyes narrowed and adopting defiance instead of sorrow. "You're hurt Sammy. You're going to get at least one more day of rest, and that's it. Got me? Utre's a goddess. She knew I wouldn't be back that quickly."
Sam wants to respond, to argue, to ask how quickly, and how far beyond that time they've gone. Instead he lets Dean push their mouths together, lets himself be distracted, and spends the rest of the day letting Dean take care of him.
------
He dreams that night of a dark hallway and tree roots, of a snake voice calling to him, and then there's light and Dean is there.
Except it's not Dean. It's Utre, and she's not illuminated she's dim. Dying. Sam knows it the minute he sees her. Her eyes are glazed over, and she stares at nothing as her wounded hands lay lifeless in her lap. It's the stillest he's ever seen her with her eyes open, and Sam kneels down beside her and touches her face. She's wrapped in something, and at first he thinks it's the blanket from his last dream but he quickly realizes it's a shroud. His hands shake as he takes her shoulders and feels the cold radiating off her flesh.
"Utre. Utre what's-fuck-" He can't even ask her because he knows. Knows what has happened. Her head lifts slightly to the sound of his voice and her lips twitch in a gruesome half-curl.
"Samuel. Did Dean find you?" She sounds like she's talking from the grave. Like she's been dead a hundred years and her throat is full of dust and rot.
He wants to cry but he can't, can't make his face react the way it needs to. "Yeah. Yeah he found me. We're coming back now ok? Just hold out and we'll be there soon. I promise."
There's that hideous twitch again and then her mutilated hand touches his throat and travels up to his face. "Too late. Tell him I am sorry, but it is too late. My poor little boy. All that burden all the time." She sounds so sorrowful and gone that Sam swallows thickly and pulls back. Can't face the truth of it. He turns to slam into a feathered breast.
When he pulls back to look the swan is tall, towers over him as he's kneeling, and he blinks against the double vision of the bird and the beautiful woman.
"Tell your brother he is a murderer. Tell him we never forget, and we never forgive. He had his chance."
Sam's shaking his head even as he pushes himself up. He looks to Utre for support but she's not there anymore, just a shroud over a pile of ashes. He turns back to the swan and is surprised to find she's gone, replaced by the god from the night before. His face is somber and threatening.
"Tell your brother he is a murderer. Tell him we take care of our own. Tell him everything has a price."
He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around again to see a little girl, eyes bright like the sun and hair shining golden around her face. "Wake up Samuel. You are not safe here any longer."
------
Breathless and shaking, Sam wakes up to Dean staring at him in horror. He shakes his head, wipes the sweat and tears off his skin, and then pushes himself out of the bed. "We're leaving Dean."
Whatever he was saying in his sleep, whatever voices were saying it for him, Dean doesn't argue. They pack into the Impala and Sam touches the scar again as Dean starts the car. The low rumble of the engine is comforting, but Sam's horrified when the radio kicks on. Dean flips channels, moves through news report after news report as if the message will change with the station. Finally Sam halts his progress so they can listen to one entirely.
Scientists from around the globe have gathered in Cape Canaveral in an attempt to explain the phenomena. As it stands now we only know that the sun has begun to rapidly lose energy. The result is a global cooling, about three degrees in the last three days. At this rate, scientists predict that another few days will send us into a major crisis. A crisis that, according to one scientist, "will result in the mass deaths of entire ecosystems, and eventually the world". A conference of politicians will meet tomorrow in Geneva to discuss further action. At this time there are no-
Sam doesn't fight Dean when he pushes a Metallica tape in and starts it up. Lets the music reach ear-splitting levels and stays silent as they cross the miles. By the time they reach their destination he has a ringing headache, and his hands are numb from being clenched so tightly. The sun has risen, but the light is sickly and strange. When Sam looks at his brother he sees those glowing eyes again, not green but gold, and gets the feeling that everything has spun so far out of control that nothing can be fixed.
"How long since she gave it to you?" He doesn't think he needs to clarify, and Dean proves him right.
"Six days." His brother flexes his fingers on the wheel and maneuvers his way through the reservation.
"How long were you supposed to have it?"
He knows the answer before Dean gives it. It's always the same in lore and mythology. In fairytales too, and this is sort of like that. Dean crossed over into the underworld for him. Dean stole him from death. Tell him everything has a price.
"Three." Dean's voice is tight, tighter than his face, and Sam wants to touch him but he knows instinctively that Dean would push him away. Knows in his bones that Dean's scared, and liable to bite any hand offered to him.
They get out at the main lodge, and Sam follows Dean through the door and into a silent mass of gods and goddesses. All the patrons of the bar are here, and they stare at Dean with varying intensities and emotions. Sam follows him silently, head ducked to avoid the worst of them, and is glad when Coyote greets them at the end of the lodge. The god's voice is gentle when he lays a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"You're just in time kid. She's waiting for Daz to come send her off."
Dean shakes his head once, either to deny the time comment or the sending off Sam's not sure, and then pushes into the little room. Sam follows and recognizes it as the first one he dreamed about. Utre is there, wrapped in so many blankets she's just a swaddled head, and her face lifts at the sound of the door.
Her eyes-it's hard for Sam to look. They're the color of corroded pennies and they weave in and out of focus as she runs them over the length of the room. Dean's moving so fast it's dizzying, and then he's kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands as gently as he can. Sam sees her struggle in the blankets for a second, and then her bloodless lips purse and she licks them once. "Sweetling. My hands are trapped. Help?"
Dean moves so carefully it's like she's made of spun glass, and once her hands are free she puts her whole one on his shoulder and the wounded one on his face. She doesn't speak again immediately, simply gives the same gruesome excuse for a smile he saw in his dream. Dean is the one who breaks the silence.
"Ok. Ok Utre I'm here now. It's all good and I'm gonna give it back so just-fuck Utre just take it back." Dean sounds as bad as he did when he admitted Sam died. Wounded and broken, and Sam wants to go to him but this is their moment. He likes Utre, likes her a lot, but she's not his mother. He'd felt this way for years when dad or Dean talked about Mary, their real mother, and now he's watching Dean say goodbye to the second woman willing to take that role. He thought of Missouri briefly, and swallowed hard.
"No sweetling. That time has passed. Did you find Sam? I cannot remember if you told me." Her voice is wasted, hollowed out again just like the dream, and he watches her lick dry lips again and convey no moisture to them at all. It's like she's dry-rotting in the sun. It's a hideous thing to see.
"Yes Utre. I found him. That's his big ass over there." It's forced gaiety so hard to hear Sam almost shouts at Dean to shut the fuck up. Utre's eyes move and then she twitches helplessly in place.
"Oh of course. There he is." But her eyes aren't anywhere near Sam and she's not really able to see anyway. Sam knows that, and Dean has to as well. "I am so glad. It is alright now."
Dean breaks. Falls apart in front of Sam like a house of cards in a strong wind, and Sam can't hold back the tears when Dean starts crying. He presses his face against Utre's lank hair and sobs into it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry mom. Please-fuck please just don't leave me."
Her mangled hand strokes his hair, and then she makes a crooning sound that rattles in her chest. "It is alright sweetling. This is what was to be. We won though. You found Sam, and that is what matters. Where is he?"
Dean sucks in one harsh breath after another and then pulls her tight up into his arms. He cradles her like a baby as he rocks back and forth. "What was I supposed to do mom? He was dead. What was I supposed to do?"
"I dreamed of you once. Long and long ago before you were born. Face so serious and eyes so big. Green the color of the treetops in heaven. I knew then you were worth it. Always worth it. My sweetling. My little boy."
"Shut up. Oh please-shit just-just stop saying goodbye."
She lets him rock her, murmurs something too quiet for Sam to hear, and then the door opens with a loud noise and Sam is turning towards it at the same time as Dean. Vecher is there, with a barrel-chested god that Sam has never seen before. His face is harsh and hard, and Sam reaches out to stop him but Vecher grabs his hands before he can. The god steps in front of Dean and Utre, studies them for a few seconds, and then nods his head.
It's like a magic spell, the breaking of something so precious and simple that Sam can't figure out what to call it. Dean's heart or his innocence or his hope. Sam's not sure. But the blankets collapse in his arms and he's left holding nothing but bloody cloth and his own broken dreams. The sound that comes out of him is like a wounded animal, and it's echoed in the main chamber till the walls shake with it. The god looks unmoved, and he eyes Dean for a time before he speaks. It's a voice Sam knows, accent-less and cold, and he hasn't heard it since the day he found the psychic that told him where Dean was.
"My daughter is gone. You asked what you were supposed to do? It was this. All along it was this. You will be the dawn now."
He looks once to Sam, then to Vecher's tear-stained face, and then he's gone as if he was never there at all. All that's left is the sound of Dean shattering on the floor, and the murmurs from the lodge. Sam's not sure when Coyote entered the room, but the god kneels next to Dean and gently removes the bundle from his arms.
"There's a way Dean. There's a way to fix it, but I don't think you can do it kid. Don't think anybody can."
Sam's not surprised when Dean looks up, and speaks in a tone that could kill anyone in hearing range. It's the first time in his life that Sam has been afraid of his brother instead of for him. "Tell me."
------
June's finger is not just pointed at the Hindu goddess of destruction and rebirth, it's pressed into the flesh and pushing further. "Of course he'll go. Dean will go because he's a good son."
Kali's mouth opens but a beautiful Asian goddess steps up and interrupts them, tone gentle and sweet. "Juno it has nothing to do with him being a good son. He could never find all the pieces, and even if he did he wouldn't come back alive."
The two little African girls hold each other a bit tighter and wail while Wednesday pushed himself into the conversation, his one eye squinted tightly. "You suggesting Dean can't fight his way out of there? I taught the boy everything I know. If anyone can get out it's him."
A short and twitchy god shook his head in disgust. "You taught Loki too, and he didn't get out. Your training doesn't mean Dean Winchester can get through the Labyrinth better than anyone else."
The fight began then, shoving to prove dominance and shouting over each other. Vecher was leaning against the wall beside Sam, and Coyote was on his other side watching the argument with no sparkle of amusement. Sam turned to Vecher.
"I don't understand any of this. Why can't one of the other sun gods take up the slack? Ra or Apollo or somebody? There's a wealth of them out there. And what the hell is the Labyrinth?"
At some point after Coyote had laid out the basics and before Dean had asked them all to leave Vecher had gotten herself under control. She watches the crowd as she answers. "The Labyrinth is a place of punishment for gods that abandon their duties. As for vhy Utre's job is so important-" She shrugged and closed her dark eyes. Coyote took over.
"We still have followers Sam. Some of us more than others, but as long as you people keep praying we keep doing our jobs. If even one of us slips that combined belief-it falls on deaf ears. Your brother has two choices. Get Utre out or be the new god on the block. Otherwise Utre's followers will continue to be ignored, and the sun will die in the sky."
Sam's head is shaking even if he doesn't want it to. A god went flying past them and slammed into the lodge wall. "She didn't abandon anything. Why is she being punished?"
Vecher's eyes stayed closed. "She gave her power villingly to your brother. She could not do her duties, could not continue to keep the door closed and the universe moving. As such she is relegated to the depths of the Labyrinth."
"And the Labyrinth ain't Veles's little treehouse either kid. This is a serious place. Gods don't go there because we're useless once we cross the border. Dean's gonna be a mortal in that place, and he's gonna have to dig through every layer of it to gather the pieces of her back up before he can try to put her back together. That would be impossible enough, but add on the fact that then he has to get her out without being trapped himself? It's basically-"
"Impossible." Vecher rubs at her closed eyes for a second before opening them and fixing them on Sam. "So you must go vith him. Alone? Impossible. Good money after bad I believe you say."
Sam remembered all the times Utre fucked up colloquial phrases. How hard Dean had laughed at the little old man in Boondock Saints. Pointed and howled while stammering out, "That's you Utre!" Despite all the time she spent with people she seemed unable to grasp the concept of sayings, but Vecher got it in one try. It was sort of unfair. More importantly it was fucking odd.
"He won't let me." Sam knew it. Had known it since the first moment Coyote suggested it, the same way he knew Dean would go. Had to go because he would never live with this regret. This guilt.
It was almost movie-perfect timing, the way the door slammed open and all the gods fell silent, some in mid-strike. Dean stood at the head of the room, eyes flaming and body taut, and Sam couldn't help but marvel at the way he already looked like a god. A statue that people should worship.
Fuck it he would make Dean let him come. Make him because Sam was tired of Dean leaving to protect him. Look how it kept working out.
Dean eyed the crowd, face daring someone to question him, and then took a deep breath. "I'm going. Someone tell me how."
------
The god stroked Dean's face thoughtfully before he nodded. His dark skin against Dean's was an interesting contrast, and Sam watched how hard Dean struggled to hold still under the god's touch. "You are powerful enough to cross the border. First will be purification. Then you will receive gifts, and hopefully there will be enough. After that the hard parts begin, and then you are on your own."
"Actually, he's with me." Sam almost loved the comical way Dean's eyes flew wide at that, or how his brother tried to mask it with anger.
"You are not coming Sam. Wipe that right out of your goofy fucking head. It's way too-"
"Dangerous Dean? Like every other time you've taken off? Too dangerous? Well look how it's always ended when you leave alone without me to guard your back." It's a low blow, Sam knows it and Dean's face says it, but it has to be done. Has to be done so Dean won't leave alone again. The god shifts uncomfortably and steps back and away. His wife moves forward easily and takes Dean's hands.
"This is a good thing Dean. A good thing. You will need help, and you will need to trust that help. Who better than your brother?"
Dean's look said anybody, anywhere, was better than Sam. He didn't take it personally. Instead he cuffed Dean once heavily and then turned to the goddess and tried to figure out who she was without asking.
"What does purification take?" She nodded once as if that was an answer and then led them to the door to the lodge. She opened it onto a desert oasis, and Sam sucked in a breath before stepping out onto the sand. The heat of the sun was still there in the shifting ground, but the air was cold from the night winds. She pointed to the little pond and Sam stepped up to the edge of it and stared at Dean for a long time.
They undressed slowly, gazes locked as if it was the first time, and then walked into the water until Dean was up to his neck and Sam's shoulders were almost covered. Dean cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge and Sam grinned back. He knew the basics of this, understood the principle and the meaning behind the whole gesture, and the moon shining in the water brightened as he cupped the cool liquid into his hands and gently poured it over Dean's head. Sam had been baptized in fire, but now he was clean again under the cold desert moonlight. He glanced at the goddess as Dean poured water over his head, saw the way her dark eyes shone in the moonlight, and then it was over and he was purified. Which was why he was surprised to feel the heat of his brother's body pressed against him, lips covering his, and a hand stroking his already half-hard length.
He didn't fight it though, slid down so that Dean could encircle both of their cocks with his hand, and moaned into his brother's mouth as he gripped helplessly at Dean's shoulders. He forgot about the deity watching them, the open air around them, or what they were about to do. All that mattered was Dean's hand, Dean's cock, and the knowledge that this was the best it could be. The best it could ever be. Dean ate the sounds of out of his mouth and returned his own. Pushed Sam to the brink and over, and afterwards they leaned against each other for support panting into the cold air.
When they exited she was smiling at them, face placid and calm otherwise, and then she leaned in and kissed them both on the forehead. "You have my and my husband's blessings. Good luck Winchesters."
Sam followed Dean through the doorway and back into the lodge, where a line of gods and goddesses waited for them. It was almost intimidating, but the way they acted like children ready to impress their teachers made it a bit easier to handle. Even more when Dean casually brushed against him as if he wasn't trying to offer Sam comfort with the gesture. Sam grunted to acknowledge it was welcome, and that was enough. They could do this. They could do this together. Anything really, and once Sam realized that it was a hell of a lot less scary despite Vecher's words.
The first to step forward was a woman with the slanted eyes of a cat. She unslung a bag from her left shoulder and held it out to Dean before kissing his cheek. Her smile was tremulous and she turned away quickly after it was done. The man that followed her stared at the two of them for a long time, and then passed a lunar disk to Dean and pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Had I have judged her I would have found her wanting nothing."
The dark man that came next was cold, and Sam was reminded of the hallway he dreamt of filled with tree roots. He passed Dean a red ribbon, and then nodded once to Sam before stepping away. Ishtar came after him and her eyes were dark and full. She gave Dean a small stuffed lion and whispered in his ear. Sam would have to ask about that later. The couple that came behind her gave Dean a little jug of liquid and a grand mace. The woman, queenly in every respect, kissed Sam's cheek without having to rise up to try, and then patted his face seriously. "Take care of him. We're relying on you as well."
Dean rolled his eyes. "No pressure huh Nin?" She simply looked at him.
June pushed her way in front of her bearded husband and held out a small box. Her eyes were shining, and she pulled Dean into a hug so tight that his brother didn't look to be breathing for a few seconds. When she released him she began to cry, and her husband gently pulled her away before stepping in and handing Dean an oak branch. "You'll be fine boy. You're too much a fighter for anything else."
Wednesday pushed his way into the line then, big chest heaving and one eye fixed and focused. His ravens fluttered away as he got closer, and when he stopped in front of Dean the big spear in his hands trembled softly. "I call it Gungnir. Never let anybody really borrow it before. You use it when the time is right. Show these doubting bastards what I taught you." Dean nodded and Wednesday wiped conspicuously at one eye. "I always believed in you boy. Tough as nails."
Vecher led the last three of the contingent. The man behind her stood taller than Sam, and his hawkish features took in the room as he walked regally ahead of Vecher and held out a small jar. Fire danced inside of it, and he squinted once down at Dean before clearing his throat. "My granddaughter believed in you. Both of you. Make her right."
The two women behind him held onto each other, mirror images in a way that didn't invite consideration. The sloppy one stumbled forward and pushed hair out of her eyes only to snag her fingers in it. She frowned at that and then leaned forward and plucked a button off Dean's shirt, ripping it in the process. Dean jerked once, but the woman stumbled past him to do the same to Sam. He held perfectly still, and she eyes him for a bit before shambling back to Vecher. The woman behind her walked easily, gracefully, and she kissed Dean once on the forehead, and then moved to kiss Sam as well. "What my sister Zia takes, I Dobra give."
Which left only Vecher, and she looked around the room before she stepped forward. She didn't look to Dean though. Her eyes stayed focused solely on Sam, and she grabbed his arm and jerked downwards so that their faces were even. "Good money after bad. Say you are not that."
"I'm not good money after bad." He tried to keep his voice clear, but he stuttered slightly when he saw the way Dean's thoughts turned. He wondered if he was remembering the old bartender in the movie too.
Vecher kissed him on the lips, tasting of snow and ice, winter winds and the moon in a clear night's sky. Which was weird because Sam had never-
But then she was stepping back and her eyes were a dull flat blue, still dark but no longer shining or powerful. "You have three days. That is an infinite amount of time in the Labyrinth, but this time vhen you come back do not dawdle." Despite the words her tone was almost gentle, and then she stepped back and nodded to Dean. "Go get my sister."
-----
Coyote stares at the cellar door for a long time before he looks over his shoulder at the two of them. "You boys know what the difference is between fate and destiny?"
Dean shakes his head but Sam thinks he may have an answer. He senses though that he's supposed to say no, so he does.
"Destiny is changeable. Happens due to actions. Your fortunetellers and palm readers read destiny and tell you all about it. Then you make it happen or you try to stop it. Fate though. What a bitch. Fate happens no matter what." Coyote eyes the door again before stepping away from it. "You know what your fate is?"
Dean simply cocks an eyebrow, but Sam takes the bait. "No Coyote. What is it?"
He shrugs once, no smile anywhere in evidence. "No clue. I'm not a fucking oracle. Good luck boys."
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