Part III d

[soncnica]

hoot

He was chopping firewood, trying to do as much as he could to help relieve Charlie of some of her chores, the dry heat beating down on him, making sweat run in a steady flow down his spine, when Twirly sat down on his shoulder, nearly making him chop off his head.

"Damnit, Twirly, scared the cheese out of me."

He put the axe to the floor to make room for Twirly to sit down on the chopping block.

hoot

Wiping off a drop of sweat that was this close to falling into his eye, he raised an eyebrow at Twirly's words: "What? Why?"

hoot

"Okay, all right. Sure. Tell 'em not for a few more days, he's not strong enough yet."

hoot

"Be careful, okay?"

hoot

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"So, Sammy, you see a lot of naked chicks then, huh?"

That caught him by surprise and he nearly dropped the glass of ice tea Charlie had given to him to carry to his brother. He tried to scramble for some sort of reply that would be at least somewhat coherent, because what?

So this was how it was going to be now? Great. As much as he'd missed his brother, he hadn't missed the teasing and the mocking and all the other things big brothers just felt they had the birth right to do.

But all he did was snort, set the glass on the nightstand and sat down by Dean's feet. He twisted his hands on his lap, trying to come up with the right words to explain to Dean how it was. How it had sickened him at first, made him close his eyes so that he wouldn't see, put his hands over his ears, so that he wouldn't be able to hear, breathe through his mouth so that he wouldn't be able to smell … but over time it all just became 'the way things were'.

"Dean, 's not like that ... I've been trained not to ... its, I wouldn't ..." he looked up at Dean, "the first few times, I puked my guts out, Twirly had to call for Doc Turner, they …" he sighed, "but over time, it became easier. It just became … I became used to it, you know? The same way as hunting became a part of you, right?"

He nodded as Dean nodded.

"Yeah, so … now, I don't even pay attention to all that, I just try to make everyone be comfortable and just … do what I'd been taught to do."

"I know, I know Sam, all right?"

There was no judgment in his brother's eyes, just a sense of truth and a hint of the same path they'd walked on to get to where they were. Sure they had both done different things to get here, but they'd talk about those paths more in the next few years.

"You know, I ... uh … I had someone, she …" he swallowed down the burn of tears he could feel in his throat and looked away from his brother's eyes, "she died …the Plague … she …"

He had no idea why he was telling this to Dean, whatever made him open up his mouth and say all that. It was probably completely the wrong time, everything probably totally out of the blue to Dean, but now that he said it, he couldn't take it back.

"You loved her?"

The floorboards were cherry wood; red and with lines made by wood worms. He could hear them at night, eating away at the wood, one annoying noise at the time. He'd never decide for cherry wood floor, too red, too similar to blood; no, he'd prefer oak wood. Sturdy, dark brown wood. He even had some picked, was very close to having it delivered to his childhood cottage that automatically belonged to him when his Dad had died and Dean had disappeared. He'd planned to live there with her and any children she would've given him. He'd had it all planned and when Dean had asked him those three words, it all came crashing back and there was only one answer: "I loved her so much."

His eyes remained dry, but his throat felt as if a vice was squeezing it. A lump the size of a boulder formed right in the center and he worked hard to swallow it all down.

"Sammy, 'm sorry."

His brother's words – soft and gentle, such an opposite to the way this whole conversation had started – came with a heavy hand on his shoulder that slipped to his nape where the fingers started to massage the side of his neck.

"It's okay ... its ... fine." He mumbled, suddenly feeling so, so tired.

"No, Sam really," Dean's fingers dug into the side of his neck, making him twist his head and look at his brother, "hey, I'm sorry."

Dust flew on the sunbeams in the space between them but it didn't distort what was written in Dean's eyes when he said that - sorry I hadn't been there, sorry I hadn't had the chance to meet her, sorry she died, sorry, sorry, so sorry.

He couldn't do anything but nod and smile when Dean let go of the back of his neck, hit him twice between his shoulder blades and fell back to bed.

The moment was gone, floating away on the dust moths.

"Uh, so," he shook his head, trying to get rid of the memories, "uh the Herd asked if we could pay 'em a visit. When you'd be strong enough. I told Twirly to tell 'em that won't happen for a few days still, so ..."

"No, no, you know what. Let's go see them, now."

He watched stupefied as Dean began pulling the blanket off his lap and swinging his still weak legs down to the floor.

"Dean, whoa, hey, no, you'll gonna fall."

"Dude, I've been shakier than this and I didn't fall. Impala will keep me on her back, don't worry. You just worry about your own horse."

He blushed: "I don't exactly ... I don't have to umm ride. I just ... I appear."

"What?"

"I … you know," he made some vague hand gestures that he hoped Dean would understand as something kind of flying but not exactly, "just appear. I have the destination and I just appear there."

"Well, how nice. But some of us still need to either use a horse or our feet."

"Yeah, ain't that a pain."

"Sure is, but it is what it is. So, we leaving or what?"

"Dean, you're still too weak, you can't …"

He knew he was almost whining, but Dean still looked as if a strong breeze could knock him over and then what?

"Sam, watch me."

Dean had always been stubborn and the way he locked his jaw and gritted his teeth made Sam growl: "You can't even stand up and walk without help."

"You'll help me and Impala won't let me fall off her, now back off, we're leaving."

"No!"

"No?"

He'd been taught well, countless hours, years training by the masters of weapons, they had all but beat knowledge into his skull and into his arms and legs, and he had soaked it all up like a sponge. He had his hand on the handle of his long sword between one heartbeat and the next, drawing it out of its sheath between one breath and another, and had Dean pinned to the wall opposite the bed with his forearm cutting off Dean's air supply and the tip of the sword pressing directly over his brother's heart.

Dean didn't even see it coming, one second he was getting up from the bed and the next his back hit the wall, making him start gasping for air.

"You didn't even see that one coming, did you? And if it was something else? It wouldn't have stopped like I did, it would've just pushed its sword in you, you dumbass."

He couldn't reply to Sam because his brother's strong forearm was pressing against his throat, making strange gasping sounds come from his mouth. He gripped Sam's arm, tried to scratch him or push him away, but damn the kid was strong and the tip of the sword was pushing even deeper into his skin now, right through the thin t-shirt.

"Defend yourself, or we're not leaving until you can."

Through the gasping and the spots appearing before his eyes, he grinned and grabbed the sword with his free hand, pushing it away. It was dangerous, yes, he could've gotten cut, yes, but it wouldn't've been the first time, nor the fiftieth time and he'd learned pretty fast how to not get cut. And Sam wouldn't really hurt him, would he?

The slip of Sam's concentration was all he needed to headbutt Sam, knee him in the family jewels and kick him down to the ground.

"Sorry, man, real sorry … you want some ice on that?"

The way Sam was holding his junk, red as beet in his face with tears at the corners of his eyes, Dean thought that yeah, his brother would need some ice.

But then a leg swept his own and he was on the floor before he knew what hit him.

"You'll pay for that…" Sam squeezed between his teeth and rolled to his other side, his hand never leaving his groin when his foot connected with his brother's ribs and then his stomach.

"Ooooh ow, asshole."

"Don't," a hiss, "play," a hiss, "dirty."

"You've got so much to learn little brother."

"Uggghhhh…"

hoot

They would've probably fallen asleep right there on the floor, each cradling his own injury if Twirly hadn't come to perch on the side of the bed and gave them both a stink eye.

"Shut up, owl."

hoot

"We're fine, just resting."

hoot

"The bird's crazy."

Dean gasped and rolled onto his back, kicking Sam's foot with his until they both looked at each other.

"I'll walk beside Impala." Sam hissed out.

"Good plan, little brother." He groaned and clutched at his belly.

Charlie wasn't home when they finally picked themselves up from the floor, tested their limbs and stumbled to the kitchen. They were glad she hadn't been home to see that, she'd probably scoff at them and make them drink even more nasty concoctions but as it was, she had already left to go do whatever it was she did.

Sam had left her a note saying that they'd be back in a few hours. He hoped that would be all right. They had extended her hospitality far too thin already and he was scared that she'd throw them on their asses any day now.

But she hadn't. Yet.

But even if she did, Dean would go live in their childhood home and he'd make arrangements to go live with him. Mr. Singer would probably have a heart attack, but … if his mom was allowed to get married and have two kids, then he was allowed to spend as much time with his brother as possible.

End of story and he wouldn't back down on that. Grand Master Inquisitor or not, he was allowed to have a family. He'd wanted one with Jessica too, had picked her a ring and all when the Plague came. He hadn't been the one to Question her, and he was both sad and happy about that. But he'd sat by her bed for weeks, every spare second he had, he'd been with her, watching her wither away in pain and sobs until Death came and took her from him. She'd caught the Plague from the florist on Main Street. Caught it before the Inquisitors were called to Collect the man.

It was things like that which made him rage in his room so many times, throw things and smash things into smithereens. Helped for a while and then he did it again.

"Sam? Hey," the snapping of fingers right before his nose brought him back and he shuddered out of the memories, "you okay there?"

Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean was here now. And no one and nothing would ever take his brother away from him.

"Yeah, yeah 'm fine, let's go. How's it up there?"

Impala had come as soon as she'd been called by Dean's loud whistle that was still making Sam's ears ring. And as he'd thought, she'd come running to them with her mane braided in small braids and the tail brushed with such care it had no knots and no dirt in it. Dean's face had gotten pale when he'd seen her and he'd barely had the strength to gasp out: "What've they done to you baby?" before he'd started to untangle her mane.

Sam had waited patiently, tapping his foot by the cottage front door, wondering if he had time to get himself some water or something. Maybe an early lunch too. But it seemed as if Dean had practice with these kinda things and he had everything nicely unbraided in minutes, making Impala snort.

"High. How's it down there?"

"Low."

They were walking slowly towards the mountains, towards the Herd and it was definitely a new experience for them both – having someone else there, by their side. Not just a horse or a bird. If this was how it felt like to not be alone, then it was a feeling someone should bottle and give out for free.

"Sam, you sure you're okay? You can ride her, ya know? She won't … she won't mind."

Impala moved her ears forward, listening intently at what was being said, and blew air out of her nostrils, not really caring who would ride her as long as she could move. She did twist her head and looked at the one who was walking beside her and looked him straight in his eyes; he was the Inquisitor, she knew that. He'd been kind to her when they first met, he had sent her to the Herd when he'd taken her sick Master to be healed and when he smiled at her, she smiled back.

"You sure about that, Impala?"

She liked it when he stroke her flank, his hand was big and just gentle enough.

"'course she's sure."

She nickered, hoping he'd understand her.

"Okay, coming up."

He hauled himself onto the horse and placed his hands on Dean's waist, holding on for dear life. He tried to take the reins from Dean's hands that were still a bit on the shaky side but his brother elbowed him: "Hey, hey, hey, driver picks the speed, shotgun shuts his cakehole about it."

"Fine, fine, sorry, my mistake."

"Damn right, right baby?"

Impala shook her head, swished her long, bushy tail and trotted forward.

They rode down the empty river bed; the water had just disappeared one day, out of the blue. An hour earlier the women of the nearby village had been washing their clothes in it and the next hour, the water had just vanished. The Plague had sucked it dry, people said that that had been the day the Plague had wanted to starve them.

They had other water; lakes and rivers, ponds too. So that theory was shot down pretty fast.

They rode through the barren plains, the winds swirling the sand and plucking it right from the ground. They had to cover their mouths and noses, otherwise they'd suffocate on it.

They rode through a patch of trees, their moans of agony tearing at their soul. The trees that were still standing tall and proud were rubbing their branches across the sick ones, giving comfort to their suffering brothers and sisters.

They turned, twisted their trunks with creaking noises to look at Sam and Dean as if wanting to say help us, help them but were too proud to beg. Stubborn trees, but Dean vowed that he'd come back here right after they'd deal with the Herd and use his axe anyway, help wanted or not. He was sure that Sam would help him.

They saw trees that were holding on to their stubs of a trunk only by a splinter, one tiny line of life still connecting them to the roots and those trees wailed the most. Dean could feel their pain – indescribable and so very loud to anyone of status. He could feel it shooting through that tiny piece of wood, as if it was shooting up and down his own spine.

They had to stop then, get off Impala and cut through those splinters, releasing the trees from their agony, giving them death so deserved. They didn't care if the trees wailed not to do it, didn't care about their pride, all they wanted was to give them peace.

A spruce tree tried to shoot at them with her spiky needles, giving all of her strength to chase them away, but Dean wielded his axe, while Sam stroked her trunk, trying to push her begging to the back of their minds. She was lying across the path, her once mighty trunk all eaten up by little critters, holes as big as Sam's fist scattered all over the wood, but she still held on.

"Gonna be over soon, darlin'" Dean whispered while bringing his axe down, severing the vein that had been keeping her alive.

"She's gone now."

"Yeah, yeah, come on, let's go."

They rode on, leaving her to slowly decay into the ground, merge with the Land and perhaps one day a new life would spring up right at that place.

It was the right thing to do. It was what they'd been raised to do.

Sam jumped off Impala when the steep climb up the mountain-side began. He didn't want her to carry extra weight when he was able to walk just fine.

"Gonna walk now."

"Sure."

He'd walked these paths so many times, never wanting to just appear before the Herd. He liked walking, cleared his head, especially when he knew the Herd would fill it right back up with extraordinary stories of before.

"I wonder what they want?"

"Dunno, Twirly didn't say. Just said that they want to talk to us."

"They could've just come to us, dunno why we have to ride to them."

"Stop grumbling and come on. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back to Charlie. 's chicken for dinner today."

"And pie?"

"Cherry."

"Come on 'pala, c'mon!"

"We've come to see him, Twirly said he called for us."

The scales on top of her head were sharp edged, but flat and brown as hazel. Her head covered the sun, making the bright light a halo around her entire body. She was big, making them crane their necks up high, but they were used to it. The Herd were all huge, tall as hills, but kind and soft spoken, puppies some children liked to play on.

"Sam, Dean. Brothers. Yes, of course. He's inside, reading the dusty tomes. I swear," she huffed smoke out of her huge flaring nostrils, "that man…"

She left the sentence hanging but they knew what she meant. The oldest of them was one coin with two faces; one was trickery and fun and restlessness, the other was seriousness and hours spent studying. It often gave people whiplash around him; he changed his personality with a blink of an eye. Kids loved him though, going along with him on exciting adventures around the caves. He gave the children fun in a Land where fun was sucked almost dry by the disease.

"Thank you. We'll find him."

They did find him inside the warmest and highest of chambers. He was lying on the pebbly ground with his wings tucked around his body, tail swinging left and right against the far wall. The wind created by the swishing tail was making the fire in the torches bend almost flat until the rose again, only to go down flat once more.

Dean shook his head, not wanting to be hypnotized again. Once had been quite enough.

"You called for us?"

"Inquisitor. Hunter. Sam, Dean, welcome, welcome," his short but thick front legs waved in the air almost madly, "haven't seen you two in a while."

"Yeah, well we've been busy with the Plague and all, you know how it is."

Dean waved his hand back and forth like chasing an invisible fly and the oldest of them grinned, showing rows and rows of sharp, pointy teeth.

"I know, I know, believe me I know."

They knew he knew. They all knew how it was, all knew the hardship the Land and its people were going through. It was visible on every step through the Land; creatures going insane by the disease, people dying, trees whimpering in pain, the soil dry and barely able to sustain enough grass to feed grazing animals. It was all dying in anguish.

The oldest of them sighed, the breath ruffling their hair and wrinkling their noses at the smell of smoke that wafted from his mouth.

"The Plague is getting worse," there was a click in the dragon's throat, as if it was barely containing tears, "it's spreading. There's no containing it. The land will fall apart in torment greater than we've ever seen."

"What?"

All they'd done, all those people that had already died, all that suffering, all the blood that had already been spilled, how could they have not contained the Plague? Sam was … sad and disappointed, angry and felt as if an entire brick house just fell on top of his chest. His knees started to feel weak, buckling under the pressure of the dragon's words and he'd have fallen down to the ground if Dean hadn't grabbed him by his bicep and hauled him back on his feet.

"Sam, you okay?"

He looked at his brother and shook his head. He wasn't okay, he wanted to fall to the ground and cry because the Plague would get them all, kill them all, make ruins out of ruins, destroy what little there still was to destroy, kill the Herd, sever the people's link to magic and then what. What would happen?

"Sammy, man, hey, calm down, buddy."

He couldn't calm down. The Herd must've been wrong, they must have wrong information, they …

"Sam, listen to me."

The deep gravelly voice of the oldest of them penetrated his mind and he looked away from Dean's face and up and up and up across the dragon's long muzzle and into one big bright green eye that was looking at him as if he was a fragile little rose petal, so very close to being destroyed in the storm.

"The tide had begun to rise when Dean had been born and now, now that you two are back together, possessing knowledge we all have tried to give you … Sam, you the Scholar, Dean you the Hunter and Annabella the Witch, you all will tear the Plague apart. Bring these people peace and restore what had been torn down. But you have to believe in yourself, believe in what you know, believe in who you are. Don't let the Plague get inside of you."

"Annabella?" Dean's eyes widened and his heart started to beat faster. He hadn't seen the kiddo in so long and she was alive and safe and here somewhere. Ruby's baby was here.

"Yes, she is very strong for her age, smart, Ruby and you taught her well, Dean. We just added more to what she already possessed and along with you two … unstoppable."

Sam didn't pay attention to what the oldest was saying because even if the dragons were wise, old as time itself, said that they'd been born alongside Death himself, alongside Time - shared the same crib and the same toys, but what he was saying about the disease spreading and finally winning over the Land - Sam couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe that everything anyone had ever done had been in vain. Even if he knew things and Dean knew things and Annabella knew her magic, how … would they … the Plague was so strong, was so smart, was trampling on everything that came in its way, was so …

"Gabriel?"

He squeezed Dean's hand that made its way into his and was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"Yes, Sam?"

The dragon's right eye came closer to him, if he'd extend his arm, he'd be able to poke the eyeball, but he didn't, just gripped his brother's hand tighter and whispered: "How? How do you know that … that we'll … how, Gabriel?"

"Sometimes, Sam, some stories begin at the end."

The End

A/N: If you made it this far, wooohooo *high five*  thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed; and if you'd be so kind and leave me a word or two. That would be amazing, thank you. And please don't ask me to write a sequel, because I have bad experiences with saying yes to that, LOL

Comments

[somer.livejournal.com]

*high-fives you back* YOUR BRAIN IS THE MOST FANTASTIC THING I KNOW!!! This was one hell of a world building again! How do you even come up with this? Wait, you don't need to answer that. If I remember correctly you told me how you came up with your BB idea and how it spiraled out of control...in the most ingenious way. LOL

Uuhhh, man, you had me with the prophecy in the beginning and little 7 year old Sam's POV view! And how different Sam and Dean grew up and then what they had to do. I have to admit this whole world had a heartbreaking and depressing feel to it. Living in it, always fearing to get sick or getting collected. And dragons!!!

Loved the whole theme with Sam's tattoo. How he had to do it all to Dean. The smoke entering Dean, the pain. And then them starting to be brothers again while recuperating at Charlie's.

Okay, you again, created one hell of a world. Loved it :D

Edit: DUDE!! Twirly, the owl LOL I have to go with Dean here "There's an owl on your shoulder, dude."

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

Oh sweetie, sweetie, sweetie, what would I do without you!? I think I'd stop posting, thats what I'd do :-)
I'm so happy you gave this story a read, found some time while you could be ya know, reading all kinds of other stories and just ... thank you!!! Your amazing comment means so much to me right now, I can't even describe it! ♥

I loooove creating new worlds, new settings, its sooo fun doing it, really is and with these boys (or J2) it all just feels so natural (in my brain) and 'm really happy you liked the world here! Lol, this story actually started with the bathroom scene; I just wanted Sam to place wet paper towels on Dean's nape and forehead and then I was like "but ok, but why would he do that in a dirty, dim, nasty bathroom?" And this story is the answer to that question *mad grin* :-)

Awesome, the depression and the bleakness, the grayness of it all came through, awesome, awesome. I wanted the world to have this feel of like looking at things through dim light :-)

The tat, idk where that came from lol, :-) hahahh, it just happened lol :-)

Owl, told you I wanted an owl and I had an owl! Wooohooo!! :-) :-) tis is the great thing about writing .. want an owl? Have an owl! :-)

P.S. Ok & I found out that the dates for the hardcore bb should be known soon *takes a deep breath* so, I hope you will find some time for a 15k long description of ... uh ... a scene! *hehe*

Thank you so so so much for your comment! *hugs you*

S.

[ferrous-wheeler.livejournal.com]

What a fascinating world you've created! Love the depth of feeling between the brothers, and how the plague comes across as this all-encompassing evil that they need to fight against - oh, and, yay,dragons!!!
Really enjoyed this, thank-you ♥

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

Heeey!!! I'm always stupidly excited when I see your comment! :-) thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to leave me a wonderful review; yay "angels" be dragons and 'm very glad that the Plague came off as you said, because that was my intention and woohoo it worked! :-):-)
Thank YOU so much!! (hope to see you in the next adventure) :-) ♥

S.

[garaak.livejournal.com]

This was brilliant beyond the telling of it. Truly a novel take on Sam and Dean's love story

[soncnica.livejournal.com]

Hey, :-)
Thank you so much for giving this story a chance and thank you so so very much for taking some time to leave me such an awesome comment! :-)
I'm so happy you liked this, thank you!

S.