Polaris-Good Day
May. 3rd, 2013 10:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraTitle: Polaris
Wordcount: 9,400
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
The cellar door leads to exactly what he imagined it would. A cellar. When he turns to tell Coyote the joke isn't funny there's no one there but Sam. The space behind Sam though, that's not the house they entered from. Instead he's faced with a passageway lined in slimy looking stones and illuminated by his skin. Utre should have warned him that god powers make things fucking ridiculous. He'd feel even more silly if it weren't for the strange way Sam's eyes are glowing, and how cold his little brother has become. Between the two of them they could really fuck with a thermostat. So there's that.
He figures that nothing was ever accomplished by standing around thinking about it, and then he heads straight forward into the Labyrinth. They've explained the concept, but it's still not really something he's sure he understands. At the forefront of his confusion is the idea that anyone would punish Utre for anything, but thinking about her for longer than a few seconds is a call to madness, and Dean can't afford to be crazy right now. Can't afford to linger on the feel of her dying in his arms, or the sensation of having her very life-force inside of him. Which is why he starts talking like a short-lived blonde in a horror movie.
"You know Sammy, I never really liked this movie. Didn't make much sense."
He can hear Sam mulling it over behind him, and then he savors the incredulous tone in the response. "Dean are you serious? You're referencing Jim Henson right now?"
The walkway opens up for a left turn and a right. They consider both before turning left without discussing it. "Yeah man. Hey remember how you cried at the scene in the forest? With the Wild Gang?"
He ducks beneath an oddly placed branch and thinks of the hallway in the Underworld where he found Sam. How his brother looked in the darkness, how Dean's heart almost stopped as Sam fought to move towards him. Half-dead and pale, standing there as if he was just waiting to fade away. He clamps down on that thought hard.
"The fire gang Dean. I was a kid, and they were decapitating each other. It was fucking creepy." Sam sounds about six when he says it, and Dean feels the smirk crossing his face.
"Ah hey baby, I'm sorry. I don't mean to creep you out down here. Let me just kiss-"
"Hey Dean. Remember Where the Red Fern Grows?"
There's silence as they make a right at the next turn and continue along the mossy walls. Silence as heavy as death, and isn't that appropriate. Dean finally finds the words he wants. "You're fucking heartless if that movie doesn't make you cry Sam. Heartless."
"Oh sweetheart," Sam's voice saccharine and Dean wants to kiss him and punch him all at the same time, "you're so right. Let's get some ice cream and-"
The sight in front of them shuts Sam up pretty effectively. The tree is humongous, reaches up into a bright blue sky so dazzling Dean squints into it and wishes for sunglasses. Beside him Sam takes a deep breath and then looks around the flat earth here at the tree's base. They hear the sound of two little girls laughing, brought to them through the still air in stereophonic quality.
"So uh-where's the-" Dean's not even sure what he's going to say. He expected the first chamber to be filled with torture equipment. To be the picture he's always had in his mind of Hell with racks and blood. Screams at the very least but the delighted squeals sound pleasant and relaxing. It's disconcerting to say the least.
He turns to see Sam and sucks in a harsh breath. His brother is…radiant is a good word but not quite right. It's not that Sam isn't hot, shit Dean knew that even if the thought brought on a sick thrill every time. It's that Sam's something else right now, and Dean can't remember exactly what it was he looked like before for a proper comparison. Sam's cheekbones have a sharpness that begs to be licked, his skin has become smoother and paler as if he was carved from milky marble. All trace of tan is gone, and while that's not usually Dean's thing it sets Sam's eyes off so abruptly that Dean finds he can't look away. The swirl of colors is still pronounced, but the blue in the center of them is so dark and bold that Dean's not even sure what the color would be called. It never occurred to him that they would look different, and if it's affected Sam this way what has it done to him?
Sam catches his eye, raises one brow, and then turns his attention back to the tree. "I'm pretty sure we have to get up there." Which is a useless observation because the tree is probably as tall as the goddamn Empire State Building, and the branches don't start until the top. Climbing it is out of the question, and as far as Dean knows neither of them has gained the power of flight. He studies the bark before trying to sink his hands into it, and finds that it won't give even a little so that he can ascend towards the top.
Sam snorts once and then shakes his head. "Dean what did you think the gifts were for?"
He has to bite his lip until the urge to curse at Sam's tone goes away. He's not stupid after all, but from Sam's voice you'd think he suggested they gnaw on the tree until it fell over.
"Ok. Sammy. Red ribbon or jar of fire?" It's still caustic, sharp, and Sam looks surprised for half a second. As if he didn't know how he sounded.
"I don't-wait open the bag."
He grabs Bastet's bag off his shoulder and undoes the complicated tie before holding it open for Sam. It's not the most manly of accessories but it's already proven itself to be useful. Plus it seems to have once belonged to Mary Poppins the way it holds the random collection of stuff the bar patrons gave him.
Sam digs purposefully, one pink lip clenched in his teeth, and Dean considers biting that plumpness for him. Which is really fucking inappropriate but Dean's been thinking a lot of inappropriate shit since they got here. When Sam pulls out the branch from Jupiter he cocks his own eyebrow. "Really Sammy? A branch? We gonna try to reach up and poke it or-"
Sam's smugness is completely unwarranted. How his little brother knew that planting it would create a rapidly growing monster tree is a mystery, and not one that anybody could figure out. He covers his appreciation and pride with snark. "Ok Bob Ross. Happy trees. Got it. Now what?"
The smile disappears, is replaced by a grimace and a considering look. "I guess we climb the branches?"
-------
Counting the time of the ascent in hours is a pointless task. It's a lot and Dean knows it, way more than they should be able to use climbing, and considering they only rest in a bower once it's pretty amazing that they make it without their arms turning into useless noodles. There's a thick branch that crosses the gap between the two trees efficiently, and Dean balances carefully as he crosses before watching Sam do the same. The top of the giant tree is flat, the leaves so densely woven they act like a solid floor. Dean's stopped looking for logic at this point.
Ahead of them two little girls are playing in the sun, laughing as they clap their hands together and chant something he can't understand. He remembers Utre's story as he watches them. Their glee is evident, the darker one slightly taller, but happy and radiant in a way Dean has never seen before. The little blonde with the golden eyes follows her older sister's movements carefully, a smile crinkling her eyes as she keep up the rapid pace.
It's not at all what he was expecting to see. They said this was punishment, a place of hideous torture, but she looks so happy that Dean doesn't want to step forward and break the mood. Then it hits him like a freight train, and he has to grab Sam to stay upright. Collect the pieces of her Coyote said. The pieces. This is one of Utre's memories. No doubt one of her happy ones, free from the burdens of stopping the Apocalypse and keeping the Winchesters from blundering into every danger humanly possible. This is Utre before she was split from her sister, before all the madness and blood and struggle started. It's probably the last totally pure and happy moment she had, and here it is laid out in front of him like a scene from a movie. Dean finally understands what Coyote was saying. Why all the gods looked so damn sad. The place has split her apart, taken from her every bit of light. Which means when he finally finds Utre's core it will be devoid of any joy, any of her usual sparkle, and left dull and aching in some dark pit.
Dean wants to break something. Wants to make something bleed, but the only one at fault is himself. Worth it? He never knew Utre was a goddamn lunatic.
Sam seems to pick it up a second later, makes a harsh noise at the back of his throat and then pats Dean's hand in a distracted manner suggesting not comfort so much as mutual horror.
"So how do we get her?" When he finally turns to look Sam's face is the picture of sympathy, and it only makes the copper taste in Dean's mouth more pronounced than he ever thought it could be.
He knows though. Without knowing the origin of the knowledge or the age of it he finds the answer in the back of his brain. He digs through the bag again and then pulls the little box June gave him out. Hesitation won't get them anywhere, and there's something of a time issue here. The longer the place has Utre the worse off she'll be. More fractured and pained than-
He crosses the leaves and crouches beside the two little goddesses. Vecher eyes him suspiciously, and the world is right again.
"Hello Utre. Hello Vecher. Do you know me?"
Dark eyes narrow down to slits even as golden ones light up impossibly bright. "You are new! Are you our friend now?"
Utre steps forward and Vecher grabs her little arm and yanks backwards. Good instincts Aunt Vecher. Too bad you couldn't stop her later.
"He is a stranger Utre. He is dangerous." Her voice is childlike but full of all the venom he remembers. It softens when her sister turns to look at her. "Ignore him and stay vith me. Let us play together always."
Sam's hand clamps onto his shoulder and he hisses lowly, "That's not Vecher is it?"
Dean knows it's a courtesy, but he nods anyway. The Labyrinth has a will, and it'll be damned if this is easy for Dean.
"Utre. I need you to really look at me." He tries to keep it soothing but it comes out so rough he may as well have a thrustful of broken vocal chords. She turns anyway, the Labyrinth's hand on her elbow and her tiny fingers touching little pink lips cautiously. It hurts him to see her like this. Almost as much as watching her die. "Do you recognize me?"
She steps away from the Labyrinth then, her fingers moving from her lip to Dean's. She tilts her head thoughtfully and then leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. When she pulls back her eyes are brighter than ever, and Dean's surprised the illumination doesn't bother him at all.
"You are-you taste like me." She looks confused and delighted all at the same time, and Dean wants to hug her.
"Yeah. Yeah sweetheart I do, because I'm your son. I need you to come with me ok?" He hears the huskiness there, recognizes that he's on the verge of tears, and bites the inside of his cheek until his mouth fills with blood. Sam's hand is still on his shoulder but it's gentle now. Cold and comforting.
"But-Vecher says-"
Then Sam is beside him, all that length folded into a small space so that he's eye level with her. "That isn't your sister Utre. Your sister is somewhere else, and she wants you to come back. You have to leave with us to do that though."
Utre's big eyes glance once over her shoulder at the angry approximation of her sister, and then back at the two of them. "Will I like where I'm going? Is it as pretty as here?"
Sam looks Dean's way, swallows, and Dean's left to lie to her. "Yeah. It's just as pretty Utre."
He holds the box out, hoping that this is real and not some crazy delusion he's come up with. She puts her hand against it, and then she's gone and there's a scream of rage from the Labyrinth. They're not in a tree anymore, and Dean wobbles once on the stone floor before getting his balance. Sam's there to help, to hold him up, and Dean's infinitely grateful.
"Cut it out man. I'm fine."
Sam nods, knows better but nods anyway, and Dean bites off anything else and simply heads further into the dark.
--------
The hallway begins to narrow, and at times Dean has to turn himself to squeeze through tight passages. Sam's been ducking on a regular basis, and Dean wants to tease him but he's pretty sure Sam would point out that Dean hasn't had to duck yet. Damn overgrown little brothers. When the Labyrinth finally opens back up into a new room Dean sees an old-fashioned pub. It's in better condition than the one he and Utre took over, but the same open configuration of brick and wood. He recognizes most of the gods in it, but he's surprised to find Utre standing at the head of them looking at least ten years older than the girl version Dean is carrying in June's box. She's gripping a table with a nervous expression as she studies the pantheons spread out in front of her, and he watches her shove hair behind one ear before she speaks.
"My grandfather has given me permission to create this space, to name it, and to open the door to our world for all of you. It is in our best interests to be united. The new religion is not going away. It is gaining in power and followers, and if we are not together we will be crushed against it."
A goddess Dean doesn't recognize stands, reptilian eyes narrowed down. "You must be joking. They are a fad. They have no chance at all. I personally have consumed over six of these ridiculous winged creatures, and I will consume their master one day." A few of the gods rally behind her, but the slim Hindu god that grabbed Dean the night he learned who Sam was stands slowly.
"We are not afraid of being replaced, but we recognize the danger inherent in this new religion. We are with you." The pantheon behind him nods and murmurs, and Dean sees some of the tension go out of Utre.
Pantheons stand and pledge allegiance or argue against it, until the room has thinned out somewhat and those that are left take their turns touching the door and murmuring in a variety of languages Dean has heard but never learned. When it's over they break out liquor, all their own specialties, and then begin to drink and talk together. Utre takes a seat apart, and Sam touches Dean's waist briefly before murmuring in his ear. "This must be the prototype for Polaris. Did you know they were formed to fight against Christianity?"
He's about to shake his head, to say he didn't, when Coyote steps up to her table and sits beside her. Dean takes a half-step forward and leans in. He's never heard the story of how they became friends.
"Hey girl. That was quite a little speech you gave. You really think these upstarts are trouble?" He pours some of his own liquor in her glass and she takes it, eyes shining with alcohol and power.
Dean watches her take a long swallow, wipe her pink lips and smile softly at nothing in particular without really looking at Coyote. "One day they will bring about the end times, and they will hunt us like animals in the wild. I think this may help stop it." Her hair falls into her face again and she pushes at it with a huff of annoyance.
Coyote's hand settles on her chair, directly behind her shoulder and stroking the wood softly as if in thought. The mischievous look is back in his eyes. "You talking about that prophecy stuff? The thing about the mortal brothers?"
He hears Sam stutter step behind him and begin to breathe hard. He can sympathize, but it's important that he hear the next part. That he understand. Utre's not looking at Coyote still, but it doesn't matter because Dean knows what she's seeing. I dreamed of you. "Yes. That prophecy stuff. I am speaking of that."
Coyote shakes his head, fingers trailing off the wood and onto her skin. "Darling I'll you tell this much. Those kids ever come to the real world and I'll slit their throats. That'll stop that mess quick and simple."
Utre's eyes narrow, her hand stretches back and takes his, and then she's twisting cruelly as Coyote yips in pain. "They will not be hurt. They will not be touched. Do you understand?"
Dean's so proud of her he wants to grab her and hug her, but he lets her be and watches how this'll play out. Her eyes finally move to Coyote, and she looks deadly and beautiful. Alive. So painfully fucking alive.
"Drink your drink, and be merry Coyote. We have created a war party." She releases his hand and picks her shot glass up. The gods have begun to thin out and Dean watches them staggering their way to the door, singing bawdy tunes and jostling each other.
"It's council girl. You know you got this whole damn room fooled. They're all thinking this is an allegiance to fight, but you're planning peace." He looks proud of her now, proud and something else Dean isn't sure he wants to see. That hand creeps up again and Dean starts to move forward but Sam stops him. "Pretty ballsy of you I gotta say. You ever considered the Trickster life?"
Utre's fingers stroke his hand once before picking the shot glass back up. How it's refilled now Dean has no idea but she slams it back before pushing at her hair once more. He knows where this going, and he digs desperately in the bag until his fingers land on a specific item. He prays that his button and the strange kiss were worth the luck it may have given him.
"You may be able to-" her words cut off when Dean steps directly in front of her, and he smoothes her hair back and threads his fingers through it. He's done it once or twice before, and the action stirs up familiar memories that make his hands shake. He uses the ribbon to tie her hair back, and her eyes go soft and fond. "Thank you."
The Labyrinth version of Coyote has no stars in his eyes, and the narrowed gaze suggests that he may attack at any second. Dean glances once at Sam and when he gets the I'm watching him head nod he strokes Utre's shoulder and kneels beside her.
"Do you recognize me?"
Her nose crinkles in consideration, and she looks at him for a long silent moment before she touches his jaw. "You have my eyes."
"I apparently taste like yah too, but I'm not too sure about that one. I was hoping you'd come with me."
Coyote half-stands, and Sam's moving forward before anyone can say anything. His little brother takes the Labyrinth clone in a lock, and twists its arm up brutally. Utre's mouth goes into a wide "o", but Dean turns her back to him.
"I need you to come with me mom. Will you trust me?"
She looks down at the proffered box, back up at his eyes, and then smiles uncertainly. "Your eyes have changed."
"Yeah. They have. Come with me?"
She doesn't ask anything else. Touches the box and it's all gone. Sam lets Dean stay there silently for a few minutes before they get up to leave.
-------
They don't talk until they reach the next room. Utre's standing with another god that Dean doesn't recognize. His eyes are black spheres set into a white face, and he frowns harshly as he stares at an image of Dean. Dean recognizes the scene in front of the two deities. It's him at eight, standing in a grocery store. He doesn't remember how much money was wadded into his pocket, but he remembers the helpless feeling of weighing the need for meat against Sam's love of Lucky Charms. How hopeless and small he felt surrounded by chattering housewives sending him sidelong glances as if he was some orphan begging for food. Not that he didn't look like an orphan in his Salvation Army cast-offs, standing in a store in the middle of a school day with that look on his face.
Sam takes in a deep breath as he looks at the scene. It was before he was old enough to go to school, and he was tucked in safely in front of the TV in whatever motel they were in at the time. Dean remembers the urgency to get back then too, and he glances once at his not so little brother to assure himself that there's no urgency anymore.
The god's voice is cold and distant. "This is the mortal that spells your doom Utrennyaya, the mortal that spells the doom of the entire world. You look too tenderly at him."
Dean takes in her face then, and all he sees is the same look she's been giving him since that night in the kitchen. That hope and love spilling forth so easily it's like she was made for it. Lunatic.
"Yes I know all that." Despite the tenderness on her face she sounds annoyed, on edge, and Dean takes in the line of her shoulders before she steps forward into the vision and kneels in front of him. She looks young again, not the little girl from the first scene but not much older. Her fingers ghost over where his face is. "But despite that Morpheus, look at his face. Look at his soul. Is this little boy really to blame?"
"He won't be little forever Utrennyaya, and when he grows up he will be dangerous. More dangerous than anyone knows. I have spoken with Destiny. This is an unavoidable thing."
She makes a face like she's bitten into something rotten. "Destiny. Spoiled and useless. This is not a thing that cannot be changed."
The god suddenly looks uncomfortable, and he shifts under his black cloak before putting a hand on her shoulder. "I did not show you this to suggest such a thing. I showed you because you asked me too."
She can't seem to look away from Dean, and the scene in front of her shifts to him back in the motel room. Him making Chef Boyardee in his socks as Sam tells him in rapid fire about the cartoon he was watching. Dean glances Sam's way and sees the look on his face, halfway between embarrassed and tender. He wants to kiss his brother then, to tell him that these are some of his best memories too, but Utre's talking again.
"He loves him." She sounds shocked, amazed, and the god takes a step back and waves his hand but she stops the movement. She steps into the scene again and puts her face inches away from Sam's motormouth. "He really loves him. More than anything in the world he loves his little brother." She turns back and Dean sees tears on her face, shining tracks leading away from the twin suns blazing above her pursed mouth. "Tell me that is bad. Tell me that is not worth saving."
The god shifts and then shakes his head. "You cannot foil both sides of Destiny Utrennyaya. Either you will save the world and die, or live in the aftermath. You know what we must do. We've done it before."
She shakes her head and stands, staring at the two little boys for a moment and then turning to look at Dean. It's the first time she's sought him out, and his hand moves like he's in a dream. Holds out the box without a word. The Labyrinth sees it too late and shifts but she's already moving even as she speaks what he doesn't doubt she said once before. "Let me die then. That is too precious to be wasted."
The fake god turns to them after she disappears, the image of the memory still around them despite her being gone. "You think you'll win Dean Winchester? That you will take her from me? She belongs here. If you stay much longer you will too. I will bury both of you so deep that your suffering will be legendary."
Then the room is gone, and the walls have gotten so cold even Dean's suffering from them. He's kinda pissed the thing took off before he could mention that it ripped that line right out of the Hellraiser script. The passage turns narrow, and the rocks are sharp. Still he takes Sam's hand and they squeeze onwards. Squeeze each other.
------
"We didn't use a gift there."
They've been pushing through this latest set of twists and turns for what feels like days, and Dean's pretty certain he's on the verge of madness. To make it infinitely worse they've found seventeen dead ends, and at one point he almost pitched into what appeared to be an endless chasm because he was busy griping at Sam. He can't remember what he was complaining about. He thinks back and then rubs at his tired eyes and stops in the middle of the passage. They're both covered in cuts, seeping blood, and Dean's fairly certain that's not god behavior. They said he'd be lacking in his new Utre-given abilities, but the eyes and the heat made him think they weren't entirely right. He should have listened.
"Does it matter Sam?" He can hear the strain, the edge, but he bites off more words in an attempt to downplay just how edgy he feels. Sam picks up on it and tries to ease some of the tension even as he ratchets it up.
"In the stories you have to use each gift. So it stands to reason there's a room for every gift, and we've only used two, not counting the bag and the box. That leaves, what six? Do the kiss and ripped button count? And what were those anyway?"
Dean uses it as an excuse to lean against the sharp stones and pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to mitigate the headache he's been fighting. "The button was taking bad luck and the kiss was giving good. We've used the good luck already I think. I can't be sure."
Sam's eyes are bright in darkness, silver and shining. "When did we use that?"
"The ribbon. Or not taking that fall. Maybe it works more than once." He looks ahead and then makes a decision. Without telling Sam he turns towards the dead end and steps to the edge of the gaping hole. He looks down it for a long second and then nods thoughtfully. "We gotta go down."
Sam's face is mixture of incredulity and pity. "Dean I know you're stressed ok but-"
"You don't know a goddamn thing. It's not your mother down there suffering. It's not your fault she's-" He cuts himself off at the hurt evident in his brother's face, cradles cold skin in between his hands and puts his forehead against Sam's in the hopes he can suck the words back out of his brother's brain. "I'm sorry Sammy. I'm sorry. Not fair of me I know. Look, let's just go down ok? I'm sure it's the only way. Everything else is dead ends. Can you just trust me?"
The unspoken please is there, and Dean underlines it by putting his lips against Sam's in a chaste kiss. There's silence, and then Sam grabs his hand and jumps, pulling him into the darkness.
When they land they're staring at Utre, and she's staring at them. Well at the memory of them. Dean is wrapped up in bed with Sam, his little brother's head perched on his chest and his hand resting firmly on Sammy's back and moving in his sleep. Utre's eyes are dim, soft, and Dean realizes this is shortly after he realized who Sam actually was. He steps beside her and tilts his head to watch how Sam softly snores, and how his head shifts with each of Dean's deep and even breaths. He puts one hand on her shoulder and she doesn't jump.
"Why is this a good memory Utre?"
She doesn't speak for a long time, and on the bed Sam shifts and snuffles in his sleep before his mouth falls further open. Dean resists snickering when Sam starts drooling. Shoots his brother a look and sees the blush there that always pleases him too much.
"This was the moment I was reminded how very much you meant to me. It was the moment I knew for certain that you would save Samuel from doom." Her voice is heavy, sad, and that's surprising because these are good memories. Memories when Utre is happy.
"Then why do you sound so sad?" Sam's own tone isn't much better, and Dean looks again to see that his little brother's eyes are shining in more ways than one, but he's looking at the bed and not Dean.
"Because it could not last forever. I wanted it to. I wanted to stop time right here and see my precious boy and his loved one always in this perfect moment. Sated, asleep, and so happy they radiated it. Anyone who saw this could never ask me if I really believed they were worth everything that would come later." When she finally turned Dean saw just how dim her eyes were. He remembered the blind look from before, when she was dying, and his hands itched to grab her but he couldn't. Not until he knew what to grab her with. "But then you came and took the one from him, and this all fell apart. All our happiness. Our family. I had a family again."
Then she struck out, and Dean ducked just in time to miss her fist catching him in the face. Instead it hit the wall and splintered through it. When he looked over her shoulder again he saw that Sam was alone, sleeping, and the room was filling with smoke. She pushed past the two of them and into the hall, her voice ringing out like cathedral bells. "Come for me now! I am not afraid!"
Dean sees the demons, sees the way her eyes glow so bright that the fire seems dim in comparison. He looks to Sam, but his brother looks both surprised and frightened. It's all new for Sam. Utre slams her hand into one demon, and Dean watches it disintegrate in front of his eyes before she gives the kung-fu "come on" gesture he spent so many hours teaching her. She's distracted though when one of them slips past her into the bedroom, and she turns to get him before he can get to Sam. She's screaming Sam's name now, her face streaked with soot and blood, and as she's burning the demon reaching for Sam another one slips in behind her and her shouts stop abruptly. Dean's at an angle to see why even if the look of confusion on Utre's face suggests she doesn't know. She turns to the demon and the knife sticking through her back, and no doubt into her lung, is long and wickedly lit by the mixture of lights.
She stagger steps forward, punches her hand through the demon's face, and then slams into the hallway to find two demons pushing at the door. Dean sees the fear enter then, and one of them swings a sword and takes the three fingers she throws up to protect her throat. He sees Sam stumble out into the hallway half-awake, sees his little brother reach for her, and then the eyes he loves so much roll up and Sam's down for the count. Being carried away as Utre fights one demon and takes hits from two others' knives. When they leave her the door is cracked and she's barely breathing. Dean watches her reach up with her wounded hand, fumble to grasp the knob, and then use both hands to pull it closed before she slumps.
Two minutes. He was two minutes late to stop her from being carved like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey. Two minutes late to save Sam from being grabbed. Two fucking minutes.
He kneels beside her even as his Labyrinth counterpart slams through the door, and when he sees that version of himself he knows instinctively that if he lets her go off with it there will be no retrieving this part of her even if he's not sure she'll really want it or why it's listed in the memories she wants to keep. The ones that hold her together and make her happy. He reaches into the bag without looking and the mace comes to hand as if it's calling to his flesh. He wields it simply, easily, and the Dean in front of him crumples under the blow. When it's done his shoulder feels disconnected and the mace disappears like a magician's trick.
Dean goes back to Utre, sees Sam holding pressure on one of her many wounds as tears flow freely down his face. It's Sam that asks the question Dean wants to know so badly. Sam that breaks the barrier in the room.
"Why this one?" He's watching the way her eyes fight to focus, how her chest rattles as she tries to breathe through one collapsed lung and six people's worth of death.
"Sweetling-" She's reaching past Sam even as she's looking at him. Focusing her big eyes on him as the light flashes. "Saved-came for-loved me and-"
Dean can't hear anymore. He shoves the box into her hand and she winks out of existence along with the hellish scene he came upon. He's left with Sam, and he wraps his brother into his arms and fights for words he doesn't want to say out loud. Wants them to go unsaid because if he utters them they can never be taken back.
"I should never have left you. She said it and you said it and I fucking didn't listen. I'm sorry Sammy. So fucking sorry because I could have saved both of you and I just-always I have to fucking think-"
But Sam's shaking that big shaggy head, hair tickling Dean's neck as he grips him and sobs. "You would have died too. You would have died and then what Dean? Then what?" He takes a shaky breath and then presses his lips against Dean's throat in that spot that makes him fucking crazy, although the farthest thing from his mind right now is sex. "I can't live without-fuck Dean I'm glad. Glad you left because you lived and that's what matters."
It's hard to believe him right then. Hard to believe that what matters could ever be Dean living, because it's always been Sam. It was Sam when he got in that big fucking car and rode to the Polaris for the first time, Sam when he looked at Jimmy and wanted more than he had a right too, and Sam when he walked out the door to face the demon armed with nothing more than the Excalibur of guns and a wild fucking hope. Sam. Now it's Sam and Utre but Dean isn't even sure about that. Isn't sure that he can witness much more without going insane.
-------
The passageway curves back and forth on itself, dips up and down, and then just for kicks the ceiling drops hideously low and they're forced to drag themselves along the cold,wet ground until the top opens back up. Sam's unusually silent, and after a while it gets to Dean in a way he never expected.
"What was it like growing up with Missouri?"
Sam makes a noise and Dean feels him jerk, although whether it's surprise or consideration he doesn't know. "Uh. It was good. She over-fed me sometimes, but she insisted it would aid in growth spurts."
Dean laughs at that, and it's an honest one for once. "Well she succeeded on that one Sasquatch." Sam joins him in laughter.
"She was really nice you know? Took a lot of interest in my schoolwork, tucked me in at night, and she always listened to me. Plus I met a lot of interesting people. I guess the only two bad things were not having you and that it was hard to keep secrets."
Dean considers that for a long time. All the stuff he attributed to Missouri Dean used to do for Sam. He remembered tucking him in as a little boy, except Dean would always lie down next to him to protect him from nightmares. Putting Sam on the school bus in the morning, and listening to his stories at night when he came home. Sam had always been a talker.
"Utre said she separated your food for you." It comes out without his considering it, and he hears that noise again and then Sam's cold hand grabs his shoulder and turns him around.
"She told you about me?" There's a weird look on Sam's face, and Dean realizes at some point the illumination in the area has stopped being his and become Sam's. The light is paler, softer, and he recognizes it as the difference between high noon and a full moon. He studies Sam's expression for a bit before he answers.
"Every day. Before she went to bed she'd sit at the table and we'd talk, and she'd tell me about you. Why?"
"She sent me dreams about you. All the time. It was the only thing that helped me not give you up. It was the reason I devoted my life to finding you." Sam brushed a thumb against Dean's cheekbone and he held in the noise he wanted to make, but he did let himself lean into the touch. "It kept me sane."
He thought of how Sam looked when he arrived under his fake name, and it all finally made sense. "Yeah. She's like that." He refuses the past tense, refuses to admit that she may never be like that again. They'll get her out here, and then he can explain his mistakes and hope she forgives him. He can finally thank her for the depth of her trouble. Mostly he can shout at her about survival instinct.
They turn a corner and all the lights are gone. Stars twinkle somewhere impossibly high, and in the empty feel of space ahead of them Dean hears murmuring. He grabs Sam's hand tightly and they move forward slowly and cautiously; feet scraping the ground in case it falls out from under them. They climb a hill and the voices are finally close enough Dean can make them out. The one is Utre, but the other is foreign to him. Male, certainly, but he doesn't recognize the speaker. The accent though, that's definitely midwestern. Oklahoma or Kansas, not twangy enough for Texas.
"So everybody that prays to you gets to meet you? That seems a little inconvenient."
Utre laughs softly in the darkness, and Dean feels his chest clench tightly. "It certainly would be. No it is only special cases. Your grandmother was very devoted, and she prayed for you often. I was fond of her."
He feels Sam's fingers move in is hand, stroke his palm, and he wonders if he's been so weak recently that Sam thinks even this small admission would result in an emotional moment for him. It's not like he never thought Utre would favor other mortals.
"So you can make Cathy pick me over that rotten sonuva bitch?" The guy sounds half hopeful and half disbelieving, and Dean hears him cough thickly four or five times. It's the sound of a person who is sick, and has been denying it for many years.
"No, I am afraid love is not one of my purviews. I am here for other reasons Leonard. What did your doctor say?"
Leonard coughs again, except this time it becomes a full blown attack and when he's finally finished he makes a wet noise that has Dean wincing in sympathy. "Three months. Four at best if I stay in the hospital and let 'em dose me a lot. Like that's happening." He sounds resigned instead of bitter, and that's interesting but not why Dean's here.
"Your grandmother once gave me a picture of you. I know that you are a Protestant. Why did you pray to me tonight?" She sounds tender, gentle, and Dean knows that voice all too well. It's Utre getting geared up to do something. As if her being up in the middle of the night isn't already stupid enough.
"Grandma used to tell me that you were the only one who ever responded. I was kinda tired of praying and not getting any word back. Does that make sense?"
He hears the soft low noise of a kiss, and then there's a deep breath that he's pretty sure isn't Utre's. "All the sense in the world Leonard. Go home. You will find things very different in the morning."
Dean sees a light then, a steady beam that leads away and illuminates only the ground and Leonard's boots as they cross it. When he's gone Dean clears his throat and Utre's voice comes out of the dark weak and lonely.
"Who is there?"
Dean digs in the bag for a long time, until his fingers find the disk that is too cold for him to hold longer than a few seconds. He throws it up, as hard as he can with his still too loose feeling shoulder, and then watches as it spins upwards into the dark sky. It hits something, maybe the ceiling of the room, and then blows up to the size of a broad full moon. Suddenly the landscape is illuminated, shows Utre lying still on the grass under a tree with her hands folded over her stomach and her eyes dim but smiling. Always fucking smiling.
"You are the boy. The one who will bring great chaos to our world. I was sure you would come later." Her lips are curled softly, and she stays reclined even as she speaks. "But my, how your little brother has grown. Look how tall and strong."
He takes the spot beside her on the grass and Sam lies down on the other side of him. Their hands entwine again, and then he uses his free one to take one of hers. "You should be asleep Utre. It's late and you're never very good after the sun goes down."
"He would have died tonight. The doctors could not factor in the effects of a broken heart. It is a terrible thing that the heart can destroy the body. Do you not think so?"
He closed his eyes and thought of Sam dead, Sam in the mud, of Utre crumbling into nothing but air in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah it's pretty fucking bad."
Sam kicked in then, his voice strained against something Dean could feel, but didn't dare look over to see. "It's worth it though. To feel stuff like that? To love something so much that it makes you crazy, breaks you down, and it's just really amazing that people get that. What would life be without it?"
Dean swallows hard and stares up at the moon. "Geez Samantha, that was fucking sweet." It's the best he can offer, and Utre starts laughing so hard her hand becomes hard to hold onto.
"Jesus Dean give it a rest. Just once could you put up the manly bullshit and feel something openly?" But he doesn't really sound angry. He sounds fond and affectionate, and he squeezes Dean's hand despite the harshness of the words.
"Sam I'll be that girly the day I die."
"Or the next time you let Ishtar dose you."
"We weren't-that wasn't supposed to-what the fuck Sam?" He's spluttering, knows it, and then Utre's patting his hand and turning her head his way.
"You two love each other that much. I have known that since the beginning. What are you doing here though?"
"I came to get you. You're trapped in Labyrinth, and I need to collect your pieces." He watches her eyes widen, watches how she bites her lower lip softly before looking back up to the moon.
"So Destiny got her way once more. Is Vecher alright?" She doesn't sound sad though. Confused a bit and maybe curious, but not sad.
"Really broken up. 'Nough so she gave Sam her powers so we could come get you. She didn't spit at him or anything."
Sam's laugh is distracted, and Utre makes a smile that is common when someone is apologizing for their socially awkward friend. "Yes. She is bad at emotional displays. Much like you I believe. How are you taking me out?"
He lets go of Sam long enough to get the box, and she stares at it for a bit before reaching for it. "I am sorry Dean."
Then she's gone, and so is the night, and they're lying on the cold stone beside each other. Sam takes several deep breaths and then shatters the silence with a tremulous voice.
"I feel like I'm falling apart. Like I wanna scream and cry, but I want to grab you and fuck you at the same time."
Dean breathes through his nose, one hand rubbing helplessly at his face. "Yeah. Me too."
The silence grows, swells, and when Sam speaks again it doesn't seem to affect it. "Let's move faster."
-----
It's Polaris, and Utre's in the apartment's kitchen with a look of determination on her face and a whisk moving at super-human speed. Coyote's leaning indolently over the counter watching her. Dean knows without any other indicator that this is his twelfth birthday. The first one he spent with the goddess.
"So what'd you get him?" Coyote dips a finger into the tub of icing and Utre hits his hand without looking his way.
"I got him a cake. What do you mean?"
Coyote makes a face and goes for the icing again only to have his head smacked this time as Utre puts the bowl down and goes for the cake pan. "A present Utre. Kids, mortal kids, get presents on their birthday from their parents."
She looks up from the cake pan, her face suddenly pale and wan. The light in her eyes dims marginally. "A present? I did not get him a present. I was making the cake. With sprinkles."
Dean wants to say something but Coyote steps forward and takes her face in his hands, his own suddenly tender instead of joking. "He'll be happy for that. Calm down."
"No. No I forgot it. How could I forget? It is so obvious to be giving gifts. He will expect it." She looks around the kitchen helplessly, and then her eyes light up again and catch Coyote's. "I know."
"Utre it's not-wait you know what?" He looks uncomfortable suddenly, but Utre slides one hand into non-existence and comes back with a ring. The small stone hanging from it glints strangely in the light. Dean knows it all too well, he wore it on a necklace until he turned sixteen and it fit his ring finger.
Coyote's black eyes go wide. "That's-uh darling that's a bit much for a kid. Don't you think?"
She shakes her head and then slips it into the pocket of her dress before she moves out of his grip and pours the rest of the cake batter. "It is not enough. He will not understand now, but one day maybe. Then it will mean enough."
Dean fingers the ring as Sam glances his way. He shakes his head to indicate that day hasn't come. He was glad to get it, impressed she thought of it, but it was always just a special gift because it was from her. Coyote slips behind her then, and the impression Dean got before is cemented when he places a tender kiss on her neck and rests a hand on either hip. "You're too damn nice, you know that right? That kid is gonna be the death of you. Literally."
She glances over her shoulder at him and then steps away to pop the cake into the oven. "Yes. Alright. But not today."
The scene jumps, leaving Dean slightly nauseated and Sam holding his elbow for balance. His child version is there and was he ever really that short? She hugs him once before presenting the cake as breakfast. Coyote grins and winks at him before taking a seat. "She baked it special Dean-o. Just like you like it. With kid filling."
Younger Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. "Bullshit Old Man. It's made with flour and stuff."
Utre cuts him a slice that should be too big, and then stands near the counter peering apprehensively as he bites into it. When the smile crosses his face Utre's eyes go bright and liquid. "You are liking it."
Younger Dean nods and then talks around his mouthful. "It's awesome. Thanks Utre! Don't you want some?"
"Maybe later. Eat up sweetling. This is your day today."
Sam leans into his ear. "This is really nice. Were they always like this?"
Dean thinks of all the birthdays that span the years he's been with her, and then compares them to the ones before her. He has hazy memories of his real mom, of dad and a dog, and a house that looms over him on fire no matter what he tries. They were like this. Utre forced the day to always be nice, pleasant, and it was hard to make the comparison before. He missed his family, but those were the days Utre worked so hard to make everything perfect Dean couldn't find the time to be melancholy. It always began this way too, with him waking up to find a cake and Utre's smile waiting for him. Even when he was a teen and he bristled at the idea of being locked in the bar and not hunting she had found a way to distract him. To make it special.
He puts an arm around Sam's waist, drops a kiss on his little brother's neck, and then steps into the scene. The Labyrinth freezes in place and the two fakes stare at him hard and cold as Utre's eyes move from little Dean to adult Dean.
"I never thanked you. I barely ever called you mom, but you were. I just took it for granted you'd always be there."
Her face trembles, and then she throws her arms around him tightly. "You were the best thing. The best thing always. Stop being so mean to my best thing."
"Utre, I need you to-" All the breath leaves him and he hears Sam shouting his name. Utre's holding him up, her face perplexed and then Dean turns and sees his smaller self standing with a club in its hand. It spins the club once and he's pulling out of Utre's arms and grabbing it halfway. The shockwave up through his hands is agony.
Sam's grappling with Coyote, and Dean uses one hand to tug on the club and the other to dig in his bag. He hears Sam's grunt of pain, and he pulls out the little stuffed lion. He almost feels stupid. Right up until the little lion comes to life, roars, and then surges out of his hand and rips the smaller version of himself to pieces before launching onto the fake Coyote's back and tearing it to shreds. Sam's left on the ground staring up where the lion was for half a second before it disappeared, and then Dean hears a noise and turns to see Utre with a hand over her mouth.
"Sweetling." She looks horrified, and Dean slides the box into her hand even as he touches her face. She's gone, but the memory of that look will haunt him until the end of time. He turns to pull Sam up and then checks his little brother over even as his back screams at him that the Labyrinth hits hard.
-----
"Not many gifts left." Sam's moving slower now, favoring his ribs as Dean tenderly pokes at the bruises forming over his spine. He glances at his brother once and then stares into the dark and damp passage in front of them.
It's fucking weird. Utre's been alive for centuries, and this is the limit of her happy memories? Two without Dean, and the rest about him or featuring him. He's pretty sure the next one will be the time he got the windows installed, but he's hoping not. There has to be more joy to her life than this. Has to be. He nods once to acknowledge he's heard Sam even as he limps his way along the corridor and into the depths of the Labyrinth. If the fakes get much more violent they're going to have serious issues. The offensive capabilities of their arsenal are dimming with every confrontation, and what's left in the bag doesn't promise much in the way of warfare. Still they'll fight their way out empty-handed if they have to.
They come around a corner and find the scene he was expecting. It's weird, because he was ready for it but now his hands are twitching. Without warning he's crossing the Polaris and pulling the other him out of her arms before slamming the Labyrinth's head into the bar. He could hear her wailing in horror, felt her hands grabbing at him, but he kept slamming his own handsome face into the bar over and over again until the features were unrecognizable, and the smirk was finally destroyed.
When he looked up he saw the way Sam was holding her back, trying to soothe her, and how she shook. He paused, tried to clear his throat, and then shook the shame off as best he could.
"It wasn't-Utre that-Sam tell her." He sounds half-feral, even to himself.
"OK Utre. It's ok. I got you and Dean's sorry. There was a better way to do that. We're just on edge right now."
She keeps shaking though, her hands pushing away from Sam and reaching for the battered fake. Dean can't watch it, can't take it anymore, and he shoves the box in her questing hand and then stands perfectly still with his battered fists at his sides.
"Dean what the hell were you thinking? You scared the shit out of her!" Sam sounds furious, and Dean tries to ignore it but that's sort of impossible.
"I just-fuck Sam. This place is making me fucking crazy. And all her good memories are me. Whose life is that fucking sad?"
Sam just looks at him for a long time, and then stalks deeper into the Labyrinth without him.
Last Chapter
Wordcount: 9,400
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
The cellar door leads to exactly what he imagined it would. A cellar. When he turns to tell Coyote the joke isn't funny there's no one there but Sam. The space behind Sam though, that's not the house they entered from. Instead he's faced with a passageway lined in slimy looking stones and illuminated by his skin. Utre should have warned him that god powers make things fucking ridiculous. He'd feel even more silly if it weren't for the strange way Sam's eyes are glowing, and how cold his little brother has become. Between the two of them they could really fuck with a thermostat. So there's that.
He figures that nothing was ever accomplished by standing around thinking about it, and then he heads straight forward into the Labyrinth. They've explained the concept, but it's still not really something he's sure he understands. At the forefront of his confusion is the idea that anyone would punish Utre for anything, but thinking about her for longer than a few seconds is a call to madness, and Dean can't afford to be crazy right now. Can't afford to linger on the feel of her dying in his arms, or the sensation of having her very life-force inside of him. Which is why he starts talking like a short-lived blonde in a horror movie.
"You know Sammy, I never really liked this movie. Didn't make much sense."
He can hear Sam mulling it over behind him, and then he savors the incredulous tone in the response. "Dean are you serious? You're referencing Jim Henson right now?"
The walkway opens up for a left turn and a right. They consider both before turning left without discussing it. "Yeah man. Hey remember how you cried at the scene in the forest? With the Wild Gang?"
He ducks beneath an oddly placed branch and thinks of the hallway in the Underworld where he found Sam. How his brother looked in the darkness, how Dean's heart almost stopped as Sam fought to move towards him. Half-dead and pale, standing there as if he was just waiting to fade away. He clamps down on that thought hard.
"The fire gang Dean. I was a kid, and they were decapitating each other. It was fucking creepy." Sam sounds about six when he says it, and Dean feels the smirk crossing his face.
"Ah hey baby, I'm sorry. I don't mean to creep you out down here. Let me just kiss-"
"Hey Dean. Remember Where the Red Fern Grows?"
There's silence as they make a right at the next turn and continue along the mossy walls. Silence as heavy as death, and isn't that appropriate. Dean finally finds the words he wants. "You're fucking heartless if that movie doesn't make you cry Sam. Heartless."
"Oh sweetheart," Sam's voice saccharine and Dean wants to kiss him and punch him all at the same time, "you're so right. Let's get some ice cream and-"
The sight in front of them shuts Sam up pretty effectively. The tree is humongous, reaches up into a bright blue sky so dazzling Dean squints into it and wishes for sunglasses. Beside him Sam takes a deep breath and then looks around the flat earth here at the tree's base. They hear the sound of two little girls laughing, brought to them through the still air in stereophonic quality.
"So uh-where's the-" Dean's not even sure what he's going to say. He expected the first chamber to be filled with torture equipment. To be the picture he's always had in his mind of Hell with racks and blood. Screams at the very least but the delighted squeals sound pleasant and relaxing. It's disconcerting to say the least.
He turns to see Sam and sucks in a harsh breath. His brother is…radiant is a good word but not quite right. It's not that Sam isn't hot, shit Dean knew that even if the thought brought on a sick thrill every time. It's that Sam's something else right now, and Dean can't remember exactly what it was he looked like before for a proper comparison. Sam's cheekbones have a sharpness that begs to be licked, his skin has become smoother and paler as if he was carved from milky marble. All trace of tan is gone, and while that's not usually Dean's thing it sets Sam's eyes off so abruptly that Dean finds he can't look away. The swirl of colors is still pronounced, but the blue in the center of them is so dark and bold that Dean's not even sure what the color would be called. It never occurred to him that they would look different, and if it's affected Sam this way what has it done to him?
Sam catches his eye, raises one brow, and then turns his attention back to the tree. "I'm pretty sure we have to get up there." Which is a useless observation because the tree is probably as tall as the goddamn Empire State Building, and the branches don't start until the top. Climbing it is out of the question, and as far as Dean knows neither of them has gained the power of flight. He studies the bark before trying to sink his hands into it, and finds that it won't give even a little so that he can ascend towards the top.
Sam snorts once and then shakes his head. "Dean what did you think the gifts were for?"
He has to bite his lip until the urge to curse at Sam's tone goes away. He's not stupid after all, but from Sam's voice you'd think he suggested they gnaw on the tree until it fell over.
"Ok. Sammy. Red ribbon or jar of fire?" It's still caustic, sharp, and Sam looks surprised for half a second. As if he didn't know how he sounded.
"I don't-wait open the bag."
He grabs Bastet's bag off his shoulder and undoes the complicated tie before holding it open for Sam. It's not the most manly of accessories but it's already proven itself to be useful. Plus it seems to have once belonged to Mary Poppins the way it holds the random collection of stuff the bar patrons gave him.
Sam digs purposefully, one pink lip clenched in his teeth, and Dean considers biting that plumpness for him. Which is really fucking inappropriate but Dean's been thinking a lot of inappropriate shit since they got here. When Sam pulls out the branch from Jupiter he cocks his own eyebrow. "Really Sammy? A branch? We gonna try to reach up and poke it or-"
Sam's smugness is completely unwarranted. How his little brother knew that planting it would create a rapidly growing monster tree is a mystery, and not one that anybody could figure out. He covers his appreciation and pride with snark. "Ok Bob Ross. Happy trees. Got it. Now what?"
The smile disappears, is replaced by a grimace and a considering look. "I guess we climb the branches?"
-------
Counting the time of the ascent in hours is a pointless task. It's a lot and Dean knows it, way more than they should be able to use climbing, and considering they only rest in a bower once it's pretty amazing that they make it without their arms turning into useless noodles. There's a thick branch that crosses the gap between the two trees efficiently, and Dean balances carefully as he crosses before watching Sam do the same. The top of the giant tree is flat, the leaves so densely woven they act like a solid floor. Dean's stopped looking for logic at this point.
Ahead of them two little girls are playing in the sun, laughing as they clap their hands together and chant something he can't understand. He remembers Utre's story as he watches them. Their glee is evident, the darker one slightly taller, but happy and radiant in a way Dean has never seen before. The little blonde with the golden eyes follows her older sister's movements carefully, a smile crinkling her eyes as she keep up the rapid pace.
It's not at all what he was expecting to see. They said this was punishment, a place of hideous torture, but she looks so happy that Dean doesn't want to step forward and break the mood. Then it hits him like a freight train, and he has to grab Sam to stay upright. Collect the pieces of her Coyote said. The pieces. This is one of Utre's memories. No doubt one of her happy ones, free from the burdens of stopping the Apocalypse and keeping the Winchesters from blundering into every danger humanly possible. This is Utre before she was split from her sister, before all the madness and blood and struggle started. It's probably the last totally pure and happy moment she had, and here it is laid out in front of him like a scene from a movie. Dean finally understands what Coyote was saying. Why all the gods looked so damn sad. The place has split her apart, taken from her every bit of light. Which means when he finally finds Utre's core it will be devoid of any joy, any of her usual sparkle, and left dull and aching in some dark pit.
Dean wants to break something. Wants to make something bleed, but the only one at fault is himself. Worth it? He never knew Utre was a goddamn lunatic.
Sam seems to pick it up a second later, makes a harsh noise at the back of his throat and then pats Dean's hand in a distracted manner suggesting not comfort so much as mutual horror.
"So how do we get her?" When he finally turns to look Sam's face is the picture of sympathy, and it only makes the copper taste in Dean's mouth more pronounced than he ever thought it could be.
He knows though. Without knowing the origin of the knowledge or the age of it he finds the answer in the back of his brain. He digs through the bag again and then pulls the little box June gave him out. Hesitation won't get them anywhere, and there's something of a time issue here. The longer the place has Utre the worse off she'll be. More fractured and pained than-
He crosses the leaves and crouches beside the two little goddesses. Vecher eyes him suspiciously, and the world is right again.
"Hello Utre. Hello Vecher. Do you know me?"
Dark eyes narrow down to slits even as golden ones light up impossibly bright. "You are new! Are you our friend now?"
Utre steps forward and Vecher grabs her little arm and yanks backwards. Good instincts Aunt Vecher. Too bad you couldn't stop her later.
"He is a stranger Utre. He is dangerous." Her voice is childlike but full of all the venom he remembers. It softens when her sister turns to look at her. "Ignore him and stay vith me. Let us play together always."
Sam's hand clamps onto his shoulder and he hisses lowly, "That's not Vecher is it?"
Dean knows it's a courtesy, but he nods anyway. The Labyrinth has a will, and it'll be damned if this is easy for Dean.
"Utre. I need you to really look at me." He tries to keep it soothing but it comes out so rough he may as well have a thrustful of broken vocal chords. She turns anyway, the Labyrinth's hand on her elbow and her tiny fingers touching little pink lips cautiously. It hurts him to see her like this. Almost as much as watching her die. "Do you recognize me?"
She steps away from the Labyrinth then, her fingers moving from her lip to Dean's. She tilts her head thoughtfully and then leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. When she pulls back her eyes are brighter than ever, and Dean's surprised the illumination doesn't bother him at all.
"You are-you taste like me." She looks confused and delighted all at the same time, and Dean wants to hug her.
"Yeah. Yeah sweetheart I do, because I'm your son. I need you to come with me ok?" He hears the huskiness there, recognizes that he's on the verge of tears, and bites the inside of his cheek until his mouth fills with blood. Sam's hand is still on his shoulder but it's gentle now. Cold and comforting.
"But-Vecher says-"
Then Sam is beside him, all that length folded into a small space so that he's eye level with her. "That isn't your sister Utre. Your sister is somewhere else, and she wants you to come back. You have to leave with us to do that though."
Utre's big eyes glance once over her shoulder at the angry approximation of her sister, and then back at the two of them. "Will I like where I'm going? Is it as pretty as here?"
Sam looks Dean's way, swallows, and Dean's left to lie to her. "Yeah. It's just as pretty Utre."
He holds the box out, hoping that this is real and not some crazy delusion he's come up with. She puts her hand against it, and then she's gone and there's a scream of rage from the Labyrinth. They're not in a tree anymore, and Dean wobbles once on the stone floor before getting his balance. Sam's there to help, to hold him up, and Dean's infinitely grateful.
"Cut it out man. I'm fine."
Sam nods, knows better but nods anyway, and Dean bites off anything else and simply heads further into the dark.
--------
The hallway begins to narrow, and at times Dean has to turn himself to squeeze through tight passages. Sam's been ducking on a regular basis, and Dean wants to tease him but he's pretty sure Sam would point out that Dean hasn't had to duck yet. Damn overgrown little brothers. When the Labyrinth finally opens back up into a new room Dean sees an old-fashioned pub. It's in better condition than the one he and Utre took over, but the same open configuration of brick and wood. He recognizes most of the gods in it, but he's surprised to find Utre standing at the head of them looking at least ten years older than the girl version Dean is carrying in June's box. She's gripping a table with a nervous expression as she studies the pantheons spread out in front of her, and he watches her shove hair behind one ear before she speaks.
"My grandfather has given me permission to create this space, to name it, and to open the door to our world for all of you. It is in our best interests to be united. The new religion is not going away. It is gaining in power and followers, and if we are not together we will be crushed against it."
A goddess Dean doesn't recognize stands, reptilian eyes narrowed down. "You must be joking. They are a fad. They have no chance at all. I personally have consumed over six of these ridiculous winged creatures, and I will consume their master one day." A few of the gods rally behind her, but the slim Hindu god that grabbed Dean the night he learned who Sam was stands slowly.
"We are not afraid of being replaced, but we recognize the danger inherent in this new religion. We are with you." The pantheon behind him nods and murmurs, and Dean sees some of the tension go out of Utre.
Pantheons stand and pledge allegiance or argue against it, until the room has thinned out somewhat and those that are left take their turns touching the door and murmuring in a variety of languages Dean has heard but never learned. When it's over they break out liquor, all their own specialties, and then begin to drink and talk together. Utre takes a seat apart, and Sam touches Dean's waist briefly before murmuring in his ear. "This must be the prototype for Polaris. Did you know they were formed to fight against Christianity?"
He's about to shake his head, to say he didn't, when Coyote steps up to her table and sits beside her. Dean takes a half-step forward and leans in. He's never heard the story of how they became friends.
"Hey girl. That was quite a little speech you gave. You really think these upstarts are trouble?" He pours some of his own liquor in her glass and she takes it, eyes shining with alcohol and power.
Dean watches her take a long swallow, wipe her pink lips and smile softly at nothing in particular without really looking at Coyote. "One day they will bring about the end times, and they will hunt us like animals in the wild. I think this may help stop it." Her hair falls into her face again and she pushes at it with a huff of annoyance.
Coyote's hand settles on her chair, directly behind her shoulder and stroking the wood softly as if in thought. The mischievous look is back in his eyes. "You talking about that prophecy stuff? The thing about the mortal brothers?"
He hears Sam stutter step behind him and begin to breathe hard. He can sympathize, but it's important that he hear the next part. That he understand. Utre's not looking at Coyote still, but it doesn't matter because Dean knows what she's seeing. I dreamed of you. "Yes. That prophecy stuff. I am speaking of that."
Coyote shakes his head, fingers trailing off the wood and onto her skin. "Darling I'll you tell this much. Those kids ever come to the real world and I'll slit their throats. That'll stop that mess quick and simple."
Utre's eyes narrow, her hand stretches back and takes his, and then she's twisting cruelly as Coyote yips in pain. "They will not be hurt. They will not be touched. Do you understand?"
Dean's so proud of her he wants to grab her and hug her, but he lets her be and watches how this'll play out. Her eyes finally move to Coyote, and she looks deadly and beautiful. Alive. So painfully fucking alive.
"Drink your drink, and be merry Coyote. We have created a war party." She releases his hand and picks her shot glass up. The gods have begun to thin out and Dean watches them staggering their way to the door, singing bawdy tunes and jostling each other.
"It's council girl. You know you got this whole damn room fooled. They're all thinking this is an allegiance to fight, but you're planning peace." He looks proud of her now, proud and something else Dean isn't sure he wants to see. That hand creeps up again and Dean starts to move forward but Sam stops him. "Pretty ballsy of you I gotta say. You ever considered the Trickster life?"
Utre's fingers stroke his hand once before picking the shot glass back up. How it's refilled now Dean has no idea but she slams it back before pushing at her hair once more. He knows where this going, and he digs desperately in the bag until his fingers land on a specific item. He prays that his button and the strange kiss were worth the luck it may have given him.
"You may be able to-" her words cut off when Dean steps directly in front of her, and he smoothes her hair back and threads his fingers through it. He's done it once or twice before, and the action stirs up familiar memories that make his hands shake. He uses the ribbon to tie her hair back, and her eyes go soft and fond. "Thank you."
The Labyrinth version of Coyote has no stars in his eyes, and the narrowed gaze suggests that he may attack at any second. Dean glances once at Sam and when he gets the I'm watching him head nod he strokes Utre's shoulder and kneels beside her.
"Do you recognize me?"
Her nose crinkles in consideration, and she looks at him for a long silent moment before she touches his jaw. "You have my eyes."
"I apparently taste like yah too, but I'm not too sure about that one. I was hoping you'd come with me."
Coyote half-stands, and Sam's moving forward before anyone can say anything. His little brother takes the Labyrinth clone in a lock, and twists its arm up brutally. Utre's mouth goes into a wide "o", but Dean turns her back to him.
"I need you to come with me mom. Will you trust me?"
She looks down at the proffered box, back up at his eyes, and then smiles uncertainly. "Your eyes have changed."
"Yeah. They have. Come with me?"
She doesn't ask anything else. Touches the box and it's all gone. Sam lets Dean stay there silently for a few minutes before they get up to leave.
-------
They don't talk until they reach the next room. Utre's standing with another god that Dean doesn't recognize. His eyes are black spheres set into a white face, and he frowns harshly as he stares at an image of Dean. Dean recognizes the scene in front of the two deities. It's him at eight, standing in a grocery store. He doesn't remember how much money was wadded into his pocket, but he remembers the helpless feeling of weighing the need for meat against Sam's love of Lucky Charms. How hopeless and small he felt surrounded by chattering housewives sending him sidelong glances as if he was some orphan begging for food. Not that he didn't look like an orphan in his Salvation Army cast-offs, standing in a store in the middle of a school day with that look on his face.
Sam takes in a deep breath as he looks at the scene. It was before he was old enough to go to school, and he was tucked in safely in front of the TV in whatever motel they were in at the time. Dean remembers the urgency to get back then too, and he glances once at his not so little brother to assure himself that there's no urgency anymore.
The god's voice is cold and distant. "This is the mortal that spells your doom Utrennyaya, the mortal that spells the doom of the entire world. You look too tenderly at him."
Dean takes in her face then, and all he sees is the same look she's been giving him since that night in the kitchen. That hope and love spilling forth so easily it's like she was made for it. Lunatic.
"Yes I know all that." Despite the tenderness on her face she sounds annoyed, on edge, and Dean takes in the line of her shoulders before she steps forward into the vision and kneels in front of him. She looks young again, not the little girl from the first scene but not much older. Her fingers ghost over where his face is. "But despite that Morpheus, look at his face. Look at his soul. Is this little boy really to blame?"
"He won't be little forever Utrennyaya, and when he grows up he will be dangerous. More dangerous than anyone knows. I have spoken with Destiny. This is an unavoidable thing."
She makes a face like she's bitten into something rotten. "Destiny. Spoiled and useless. This is not a thing that cannot be changed."
The god suddenly looks uncomfortable, and he shifts under his black cloak before putting a hand on her shoulder. "I did not show you this to suggest such a thing. I showed you because you asked me too."
She can't seem to look away from Dean, and the scene in front of her shifts to him back in the motel room. Him making Chef Boyardee in his socks as Sam tells him in rapid fire about the cartoon he was watching. Dean glances Sam's way and sees the look on his face, halfway between embarrassed and tender. He wants to kiss his brother then, to tell him that these are some of his best memories too, but Utre's talking again.
"He loves him." She sounds shocked, amazed, and the god takes a step back and waves his hand but she stops the movement. She steps into the scene again and puts her face inches away from Sam's motormouth. "He really loves him. More than anything in the world he loves his little brother." She turns back and Dean sees tears on her face, shining tracks leading away from the twin suns blazing above her pursed mouth. "Tell me that is bad. Tell me that is not worth saving."
The god shifts and then shakes his head. "You cannot foil both sides of Destiny Utrennyaya. Either you will save the world and die, or live in the aftermath. You know what we must do. We've done it before."
She shakes her head and stands, staring at the two little boys for a moment and then turning to look at Dean. It's the first time she's sought him out, and his hand moves like he's in a dream. Holds out the box without a word. The Labyrinth sees it too late and shifts but she's already moving even as she speaks what he doesn't doubt she said once before. "Let me die then. That is too precious to be wasted."
The fake god turns to them after she disappears, the image of the memory still around them despite her being gone. "You think you'll win Dean Winchester? That you will take her from me? She belongs here. If you stay much longer you will too. I will bury both of you so deep that your suffering will be legendary."
Then the room is gone, and the walls have gotten so cold even Dean's suffering from them. He's kinda pissed the thing took off before he could mention that it ripped that line right out of the Hellraiser script. The passage turns narrow, and the rocks are sharp. Still he takes Sam's hand and they squeeze onwards. Squeeze each other.
------
"We didn't use a gift there."
They've been pushing through this latest set of twists and turns for what feels like days, and Dean's pretty certain he's on the verge of madness. To make it infinitely worse they've found seventeen dead ends, and at one point he almost pitched into what appeared to be an endless chasm because he was busy griping at Sam. He can't remember what he was complaining about. He thinks back and then rubs at his tired eyes and stops in the middle of the passage. They're both covered in cuts, seeping blood, and Dean's fairly certain that's not god behavior. They said he'd be lacking in his new Utre-given abilities, but the eyes and the heat made him think they weren't entirely right. He should have listened.
"Does it matter Sam?" He can hear the strain, the edge, but he bites off more words in an attempt to downplay just how edgy he feels. Sam picks up on it and tries to ease some of the tension even as he ratchets it up.
"In the stories you have to use each gift. So it stands to reason there's a room for every gift, and we've only used two, not counting the bag and the box. That leaves, what six? Do the kiss and ripped button count? And what were those anyway?"
Dean uses it as an excuse to lean against the sharp stones and pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to mitigate the headache he's been fighting. "The button was taking bad luck and the kiss was giving good. We've used the good luck already I think. I can't be sure."
Sam's eyes are bright in darkness, silver and shining. "When did we use that?"
"The ribbon. Or not taking that fall. Maybe it works more than once." He looks ahead and then makes a decision. Without telling Sam he turns towards the dead end and steps to the edge of the gaping hole. He looks down it for a long second and then nods thoughtfully. "We gotta go down."
Sam's face is mixture of incredulity and pity. "Dean I know you're stressed ok but-"
"You don't know a goddamn thing. It's not your mother down there suffering. It's not your fault she's-" He cuts himself off at the hurt evident in his brother's face, cradles cold skin in between his hands and puts his forehead against Sam's in the hopes he can suck the words back out of his brother's brain. "I'm sorry Sammy. I'm sorry. Not fair of me I know. Look, let's just go down ok? I'm sure it's the only way. Everything else is dead ends. Can you just trust me?"
The unspoken please is there, and Dean underlines it by putting his lips against Sam's in a chaste kiss. There's silence, and then Sam grabs his hand and jumps, pulling him into the darkness.
When they land they're staring at Utre, and she's staring at them. Well at the memory of them. Dean is wrapped up in bed with Sam, his little brother's head perched on his chest and his hand resting firmly on Sammy's back and moving in his sleep. Utre's eyes are dim, soft, and Dean realizes this is shortly after he realized who Sam actually was. He steps beside her and tilts his head to watch how Sam softly snores, and how his head shifts with each of Dean's deep and even breaths. He puts one hand on her shoulder and she doesn't jump.
"Why is this a good memory Utre?"
She doesn't speak for a long time, and on the bed Sam shifts and snuffles in his sleep before his mouth falls further open. Dean resists snickering when Sam starts drooling. Shoots his brother a look and sees the blush there that always pleases him too much.
"This was the moment I was reminded how very much you meant to me. It was the moment I knew for certain that you would save Samuel from doom." Her voice is heavy, sad, and that's surprising because these are good memories. Memories when Utre is happy.
"Then why do you sound so sad?" Sam's own tone isn't much better, and Dean looks again to see that his little brother's eyes are shining in more ways than one, but he's looking at the bed and not Dean.
"Because it could not last forever. I wanted it to. I wanted to stop time right here and see my precious boy and his loved one always in this perfect moment. Sated, asleep, and so happy they radiated it. Anyone who saw this could never ask me if I really believed they were worth everything that would come later." When she finally turned Dean saw just how dim her eyes were. He remembered the blind look from before, when she was dying, and his hands itched to grab her but he couldn't. Not until he knew what to grab her with. "But then you came and took the one from him, and this all fell apart. All our happiness. Our family. I had a family again."
Then she struck out, and Dean ducked just in time to miss her fist catching him in the face. Instead it hit the wall and splintered through it. When he looked over her shoulder again he saw that Sam was alone, sleeping, and the room was filling with smoke. She pushed past the two of them and into the hall, her voice ringing out like cathedral bells. "Come for me now! I am not afraid!"
Dean sees the demons, sees the way her eyes glow so bright that the fire seems dim in comparison. He looks to Sam, but his brother looks both surprised and frightened. It's all new for Sam. Utre slams her hand into one demon, and Dean watches it disintegrate in front of his eyes before she gives the kung-fu "come on" gesture he spent so many hours teaching her. She's distracted though when one of them slips past her into the bedroom, and she turns to get him before he can get to Sam. She's screaming Sam's name now, her face streaked with soot and blood, and as she's burning the demon reaching for Sam another one slips in behind her and her shouts stop abruptly. Dean's at an angle to see why even if the look of confusion on Utre's face suggests she doesn't know. She turns to the demon and the knife sticking through her back, and no doubt into her lung, is long and wickedly lit by the mixture of lights.
She stagger steps forward, punches her hand through the demon's face, and then slams into the hallway to find two demons pushing at the door. Dean sees the fear enter then, and one of them swings a sword and takes the three fingers she throws up to protect her throat. He sees Sam stumble out into the hallway half-awake, sees his little brother reach for her, and then the eyes he loves so much roll up and Sam's down for the count. Being carried away as Utre fights one demon and takes hits from two others' knives. When they leave her the door is cracked and she's barely breathing. Dean watches her reach up with her wounded hand, fumble to grasp the knob, and then use both hands to pull it closed before she slumps.
Two minutes. He was two minutes late to stop her from being carved like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey. Two minutes late to save Sam from being grabbed. Two fucking minutes.
He kneels beside her even as his Labyrinth counterpart slams through the door, and when he sees that version of himself he knows instinctively that if he lets her go off with it there will be no retrieving this part of her even if he's not sure she'll really want it or why it's listed in the memories she wants to keep. The ones that hold her together and make her happy. He reaches into the bag without looking and the mace comes to hand as if it's calling to his flesh. He wields it simply, easily, and the Dean in front of him crumples under the blow. When it's done his shoulder feels disconnected and the mace disappears like a magician's trick.
Dean goes back to Utre, sees Sam holding pressure on one of her many wounds as tears flow freely down his face. It's Sam that asks the question Dean wants to know so badly. Sam that breaks the barrier in the room.
"Why this one?" He's watching the way her eyes fight to focus, how her chest rattles as she tries to breathe through one collapsed lung and six people's worth of death.
"Sweetling-" She's reaching past Sam even as she's looking at him. Focusing her big eyes on him as the light flashes. "Saved-came for-loved me and-"
Dean can't hear anymore. He shoves the box into her hand and she winks out of existence along with the hellish scene he came upon. He's left with Sam, and he wraps his brother into his arms and fights for words he doesn't want to say out loud. Wants them to go unsaid because if he utters them they can never be taken back.
"I should never have left you. She said it and you said it and I fucking didn't listen. I'm sorry Sammy. So fucking sorry because I could have saved both of you and I just-always I have to fucking think-"
But Sam's shaking that big shaggy head, hair tickling Dean's neck as he grips him and sobs. "You would have died too. You would have died and then what Dean? Then what?" He takes a shaky breath and then presses his lips against Dean's throat in that spot that makes him fucking crazy, although the farthest thing from his mind right now is sex. "I can't live without-fuck Dean I'm glad. Glad you left because you lived and that's what matters."
It's hard to believe him right then. Hard to believe that what matters could ever be Dean living, because it's always been Sam. It was Sam when he got in that big fucking car and rode to the Polaris for the first time, Sam when he looked at Jimmy and wanted more than he had a right too, and Sam when he walked out the door to face the demon armed with nothing more than the Excalibur of guns and a wild fucking hope. Sam. Now it's Sam and Utre but Dean isn't even sure about that. Isn't sure that he can witness much more without going insane.
-------
The passageway curves back and forth on itself, dips up and down, and then just for kicks the ceiling drops hideously low and they're forced to drag themselves along the cold,wet ground until the top opens back up. Sam's unusually silent, and after a while it gets to Dean in a way he never expected.
"What was it like growing up with Missouri?"
Sam makes a noise and Dean feels him jerk, although whether it's surprise or consideration he doesn't know. "Uh. It was good. She over-fed me sometimes, but she insisted it would aid in growth spurts."
Dean laughs at that, and it's an honest one for once. "Well she succeeded on that one Sasquatch." Sam joins him in laughter.
"She was really nice you know? Took a lot of interest in my schoolwork, tucked me in at night, and she always listened to me. Plus I met a lot of interesting people. I guess the only two bad things were not having you and that it was hard to keep secrets."
Dean considers that for a long time. All the stuff he attributed to Missouri Dean used to do for Sam. He remembered tucking him in as a little boy, except Dean would always lie down next to him to protect him from nightmares. Putting Sam on the school bus in the morning, and listening to his stories at night when he came home. Sam had always been a talker.
"Utre said she separated your food for you." It comes out without his considering it, and he hears that noise again and then Sam's cold hand grabs his shoulder and turns him around.
"She told you about me?" There's a weird look on Sam's face, and Dean realizes at some point the illumination in the area has stopped being his and become Sam's. The light is paler, softer, and he recognizes it as the difference between high noon and a full moon. He studies Sam's expression for a bit before he answers.
"Every day. Before she went to bed she'd sit at the table and we'd talk, and she'd tell me about you. Why?"
"She sent me dreams about you. All the time. It was the only thing that helped me not give you up. It was the reason I devoted my life to finding you." Sam brushed a thumb against Dean's cheekbone and he held in the noise he wanted to make, but he did let himself lean into the touch. "It kept me sane."
He thought of how Sam looked when he arrived under his fake name, and it all finally made sense. "Yeah. She's like that." He refuses the past tense, refuses to admit that she may never be like that again. They'll get her out here, and then he can explain his mistakes and hope she forgives him. He can finally thank her for the depth of her trouble. Mostly he can shout at her about survival instinct.
They turn a corner and all the lights are gone. Stars twinkle somewhere impossibly high, and in the empty feel of space ahead of them Dean hears murmuring. He grabs Sam's hand tightly and they move forward slowly and cautiously; feet scraping the ground in case it falls out from under them. They climb a hill and the voices are finally close enough Dean can make them out. The one is Utre, but the other is foreign to him. Male, certainly, but he doesn't recognize the speaker. The accent though, that's definitely midwestern. Oklahoma or Kansas, not twangy enough for Texas.
"So everybody that prays to you gets to meet you? That seems a little inconvenient."
Utre laughs softly in the darkness, and Dean feels his chest clench tightly. "It certainly would be. No it is only special cases. Your grandmother was very devoted, and she prayed for you often. I was fond of her."
He feels Sam's fingers move in is hand, stroke his palm, and he wonders if he's been so weak recently that Sam thinks even this small admission would result in an emotional moment for him. It's not like he never thought Utre would favor other mortals.
"So you can make Cathy pick me over that rotten sonuva bitch?" The guy sounds half hopeful and half disbelieving, and Dean hears him cough thickly four or five times. It's the sound of a person who is sick, and has been denying it for many years.
"No, I am afraid love is not one of my purviews. I am here for other reasons Leonard. What did your doctor say?"
Leonard coughs again, except this time it becomes a full blown attack and when he's finally finished he makes a wet noise that has Dean wincing in sympathy. "Three months. Four at best if I stay in the hospital and let 'em dose me a lot. Like that's happening." He sounds resigned instead of bitter, and that's interesting but not why Dean's here.
"Your grandmother once gave me a picture of you. I know that you are a Protestant. Why did you pray to me tonight?" She sounds tender, gentle, and Dean knows that voice all too well. It's Utre getting geared up to do something. As if her being up in the middle of the night isn't already stupid enough.
"Grandma used to tell me that you were the only one who ever responded. I was kinda tired of praying and not getting any word back. Does that make sense?"
He hears the soft low noise of a kiss, and then there's a deep breath that he's pretty sure isn't Utre's. "All the sense in the world Leonard. Go home. You will find things very different in the morning."
Dean sees a light then, a steady beam that leads away and illuminates only the ground and Leonard's boots as they cross it. When he's gone Dean clears his throat and Utre's voice comes out of the dark weak and lonely.
"Who is there?"
Dean digs in the bag for a long time, until his fingers find the disk that is too cold for him to hold longer than a few seconds. He throws it up, as hard as he can with his still too loose feeling shoulder, and then watches as it spins upwards into the dark sky. It hits something, maybe the ceiling of the room, and then blows up to the size of a broad full moon. Suddenly the landscape is illuminated, shows Utre lying still on the grass under a tree with her hands folded over her stomach and her eyes dim but smiling. Always fucking smiling.
"You are the boy. The one who will bring great chaos to our world. I was sure you would come later." Her lips are curled softly, and she stays reclined even as she speaks. "But my, how your little brother has grown. Look how tall and strong."
He takes the spot beside her on the grass and Sam lies down on the other side of him. Their hands entwine again, and then he uses his free one to take one of hers. "You should be asleep Utre. It's late and you're never very good after the sun goes down."
"He would have died tonight. The doctors could not factor in the effects of a broken heart. It is a terrible thing that the heart can destroy the body. Do you not think so?"
He closed his eyes and thought of Sam dead, Sam in the mud, of Utre crumbling into nothing but air in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah it's pretty fucking bad."
Sam kicked in then, his voice strained against something Dean could feel, but didn't dare look over to see. "It's worth it though. To feel stuff like that? To love something so much that it makes you crazy, breaks you down, and it's just really amazing that people get that. What would life be without it?"
Dean swallows hard and stares up at the moon. "Geez Samantha, that was fucking sweet." It's the best he can offer, and Utre starts laughing so hard her hand becomes hard to hold onto.
"Jesus Dean give it a rest. Just once could you put up the manly bullshit and feel something openly?" But he doesn't really sound angry. He sounds fond and affectionate, and he squeezes Dean's hand despite the harshness of the words.
"Sam I'll be that girly the day I die."
"Or the next time you let Ishtar dose you."
"We weren't-that wasn't supposed to-what the fuck Sam?" He's spluttering, knows it, and then Utre's patting his hand and turning her head his way.
"You two love each other that much. I have known that since the beginning. What are you doing here though?"
"I came to get you. You're trapped in Labyrinth, and I need to collect your pieces." He watches her eyes widen, watches how she bites her lower lip softly before looking back up to the moon.
"So Destiny got her way once more. Is Vecher alright?" She doesn't sound sad though. Confused a bit and maybe curious, but not sad.
"Really broken up. 'Nough so she gave Sam her powers so we could come get you. She didn't spit at him or anything."
Sam's laugh is distracted, and Utre makes a smile that is common when someone is apologizing for their socially awkward friend. "Yes. She is bad at emotional displays. Much like you I believe. How are you taking me out?"
He lets go of Sam long enough to get the box, and she stares at it for a bit before reaching for it. "I am sorry Dean."
Then she's gone, and so is the night, and they're lying on the cold stone beside each other. Sam takes several deep breaths and then shatters the silence with a tremulous voice.
"I feel like I'm falling apart. Like I wanna scream and cry, but I want to grab you and fuck you at the same time."
Dean breathes through his nose, one hand rubbing helplessly at his face. "Yeah. Me too."
The silence grows, swells, and when Sam speaks again it doesn't seem to affect it. "Let's move faster."
-----
It's Polaris, and Utre's in the apartment's kitchen with a look of determination on her face and a whisk moving at super-human speed. Coyote's leaning indolently over the counter watching her. Dean knows without any other indicator that this is his twelfth birthday. The first one he spent with the goddess.
"So what'd you get him?" Coyote dips a finger into the tub of icing and Utre hits his hand without looking his way.
"I got him a cake. What do you mean?"
Coyote makes a face and goes for the icing again only to have his head smacked this time as Utre puts the bowl down and goes for the cake pan. "A present Utre. Kids, mortal kids, get presents on their birthday from their parents."
She looks up from the cake pan, her face suddenly pale and wan. The light in her eyes dims marginally. "A present? I did not get him a present. I was making the cake. With sprinkles."
Dean wants to say something but Coyote steps forward and takes her face in his hands, his own suddenly tender instead of joking. "He'll be happy for that. Calm down."
"No. No I forgot it. How could I forget? It is so obvious to be giving gifts. He will expect it." She looks around the kitchen helplessly, and then her eyes light up again and catch Coyote's. "I know."
"Utre it's not-wait you know what?" He looks uncomfortable suddenly, but Utre slides one hand into non-existence and comes back with a ring. The small stone hanging from it glints strangely in the light. Dean knows it all too well, he wore it on a necklace until he turned sixteen and it fit his ring finger.
Coyote's black eyes go wide. "That's-uh darling that's a bit much for a kid. Don't you think?"
She shakes her head and then slips it into the pocket of her dress before she moves out of his grip and pours the rest of the cake batter. "It is not enough. He will not understand now, but one day maybe. Then it will mean enough."
Dean fingers the ring as Sam glances his way. He shakes his head to indicate that day hasn't come. He was glad to get it, impressed she thought of it, but it was always just a special gift because it was from her. Coyote slips behind her then, and the impression Dean got before is cemented when he places a tender kiss on her neck and rests a hand on either hip. "You're too damn nice, you know that right? That kid is gonna be the death of you. Literally."
She glances over her shoulder at him and then steps away to pop the cake into the oven. "Yes. Alright. But not today."
The scene jumps, leaving Dean slightly nauseated and Sam holding his elbow for balance. His child version is there and was he ever really that short? She hugs him once before presenting the cake as breakfast. Coyote grins and winks at him before taking a seat. "She baked it special Dean-o. Just like you like it. With kid filling."
Younger Dean rolls his eyes dramatically. "Bullshit Old Man. It's made with flour and stuff."
Utre cuts him a slice that should be too big, and then stands near the counter peering apprehensively as he bites into it. When the smile crosses his face Utre's eyes go bright and liquid. "You are liking it."
Younger Dean nods and then talks around his mouthful. "It's awesome. Thanks Utre! Don't you want some?"
"Maybe later. Eat up sweetling. This is your day today."
Sam leans into his ear. "This is really nice. Were they always like this?"
Dean thinks of all the birthdays that span the years he's been with her, and then compares them to the ones before her. He has hazy memories of his real mom, of dad and a dog, and a house that looms over him on fire no matter what he tries. They were like this. Utre forced the day to always be nice, pleasant, and it was hard to make the comparison before. He missed his family, but those were the days Utre worked so hard to make everything perfect Dean couldn't find the time to be melancholy. It always began this way too, with him waking up to find a cake and Utre's smile waiting for him. Even when he was a teen and he bristled at the idea of being locked in the bar and not hunting she had found a way to distract him. To make it special.
He puts an arm around Sam's waist, drops a kiss on his little brother's neck, and then steps into the scene. The Labyrinth freezes in place and the two fakes stare at him hard and cold as Utre's eyes move from little Dean to adult Dean.
"I never thanked you. I barely ever called you mom, but you were. I just took it for granted you'd always be there."
Her face trembles, and then she throws her arms around him tightly. "You were the best thing. The best thing always. Stop being so mean to my best thing."
"Utre, I need you to-" All the breath leaves him and he hears Sam shouting his name. Utre's holding him up, her face perplexed and then Dean turns and sees his smaller self standing with a club in its hand. It spins the club once and he's pulling out of Utre's arms and grabbing it halfway. The shockwave up through his hands is agony.
Sam's grappling with Coyote, and Dean uses one hand to tug on the club and the other to dig in his bag. He hears Sam's grunt of pain, and he pulls out the little stuffed lion. He almost feels stupid. Right up until the little lion comes to life, roars, and then surges out of his hand and rips the smaller version of himself to pieces before launching onto the fake Coyote's back and tearing it to shreds. Sam's left on the ground staring up where the lion was for half a second before it disappeared, and then Dean hears a noise and turns to see Utre with a hand over her mouth.
"Sweetling." She looks horrified, and Dean slides the box into her hand even as he touches her face. She's gone, but the memory of that look will haunt him until the end of time. He turns to pull Sam up and then checks his little brother over even as his back screams at him that the Labyrinth hits hard.
-----
"Not many gifts left." Sam's moving slower now, favoring his ribs as Dean tenderly pokes at the bruises forming over his spine. He glances at his brother once and then stares into the dark and damp passage in front of them.
It's fucking weird. Utre's been alive for centuries, and this is the limit of her happy memories? Two without Dean, and the rest about him or featuring him. He's pretty sure the next one will be the time he got the windows installed, but he's hoping not. There has to be more joy to her life than this. Has to be. He nods once to acknowledge he's heard Sam even as he limps his way along the corridor and into the depths of the Labyrinth. If the fakes get much more violent they're going to have serious issues. The offensive capabilities of their arsenal are dimming with every confrontation, and what's left in the bag doesn't promise much in the way of warfare. Still they'll fight their way out empty-handed if they have to.
They come around a corner and find the scene he was expecting. It's weird, because he was ready for it but now his hands are twitching. Without warning he's crossing the Polaris and pulling the other him out of her arms before slamming the Labyrinth's head into the bar. He could hear her wailing in horror, felt her hands grabbing at him, but he kept slamming his own handsome face into the bar over and over again until the features were unrecognizable, and the smirk was finally destroyed.
When he looked up he saw the way Sam was holding her back, trying to soothe her, and how she shook. He paused, tried to clear his throat, and then shook the shame off as best he could.
"It wasn't-Utre that-Sam tell her." He sounds half-feral, even to himself.
"OK Utre. It's ok. I got you and Dean's sorry. There was a better way to do that. We're just on edge right now."
She keeps shaking though, her hands pushing away from Sam and reaching for the battered fake. Dean can't watch it, can't take it anymore, and he shoves the box in her questing hand and then stands perfectly still with his battered fists at his sides.
"Dean what the hell were you thinking? You scared the shit out of her!" Sam sounds furious, and Dean tries to ignore it but that's sort of impossible.
"I just-fuck Sam. This place is making me fucking crazy. And all her good memories are me. Whose life is that fucking sad?"
Sam just looks at him for a long time, and then stalks deeper into the Labyrinth without him.
Last Chapter
