Fic: Of Bastard Saints, 15

[nilchance]

Title: Of Bastard Saints
Authors: nilchance and beanside
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: We make no claim of ownership on the Brothers and Daddy Winchester. No infringement is intended, no money is made.
Author Notes: Set after the episode "Devil's Trap."
WARNINGS: Character maiming, violence, more angst than you can shake a stick at, WIP.



"Oh, my-" Sam's voice trailed off as words failed him.

"God," John finished. He slowly pulled himself out of the van, staring at the enormous Valkyrie mounted on the front of the bar, Valhalla. It was...

"Dean must have thought he was in heaven," Sam said, fighting a smile.

John chuckled. "Yeah. There's the truck he was behind. At least we know someone who saw Dean is still here."

Sam nodded. They were up the first step before it occurred to Sam to think of his father's leg, the accident. Jesus. Not the kind of thing he should be able to forget, but Dad was reacting like the wreck had never happened. Sam hesitated on the second step, debating on whether or not to offer John his arm up. Probably not, if Sam wanted that arm back in one piece when his father was done. Besides, John seemed to be managing.

As they neared the door, a low growl from inside made them both still.

"Was that-"

John nodded. "I'd bet on it."

"You armed?" Sam asked, reaching to the small of his back.

The look his father shot him could have flash frozen hell.

"Yeah, I figured," Sam grinned. "Shall we go work on community relations?"

John nodded. "Go in fast and hard."

Sam nodded, shifted his weight and slammed his boot-heel into the seam of the doors.

The demon was doing a pretty fair job of terrorizing the handful of locals who were in the bar at mid-day, but they weren't going down without a fight. John tossed Sam a bag of salt. "Circle it," he ordered. "Gotta contain it."

Sam glared for a moment at the barked order, but scrambled to do what it anyway. "Got it."

Before too long, he had a passable circle on the floor of the bar. "Done, Dad!"

"Everybody out of the circle," John barked. "Now."

As the locals scrambled to get out, John quietly stepped in, noting that Sam had done the same. A tall blonde man, the one from the picture, stopped next to John. "He's possessed! Don't try to-" He stopped, whatever he'd seen in John's eyes stilling the words. "Be careful," he amended quickly.

John pulled out the holy water and cross.

"John," the demon purred. "John Winchester." It looked over his shoulder. "And Sam, too. This is such a pleasure. Imagine the glory it will bring to my name when I kill you both."

John held up the crucifix. "In the name of God, I command and compel you to leave this body." The demon moved like a striking snake, slapping the cross away from him, and John sighed. "Not the easy way, then?"

It punched him, hard enough to knock him off his feet, and Sam lunged forward. "Dad!"

"Age before beauty," the demon sneered. "I'll get to you."

It turned its attention back to John, in time to get a face full of holy water. It rocked back, clawing at its eyes, and John scrambled to his feet. He reached back for the gun and touched emptiness. Shit. Must have lost it. Not like he really wanted to shoot it in front of witnesses, but without it, he was kind of screwed. Knife wouldn't do much to stop it.

"Dad!" Sam yelled. "Incoming!"

John looked up, in time to catch the pool cue Sam had lobbed his way. He gave the demon a smile. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Sam," Sam sighed.

"Sorry," John said, voice utterly unrepentant. He tested the weight of the pool cue, carefully balancing himself. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

Idona's eyes widened as the older stranger whipped the cue around him, driving the demon back. Grandmother touched her arm, nodding sagely. "Garm."

"Got that feeling," Idona murmured. "Damn, they make 'em good wherever they come from."

Grandmother pointed at the younger man. "Garm, also."

"Seriously? He looks like he belongs in a co-eds gone wild video," Idona muttered. "Cute, but seriously? Garm?"

"Geirolf. Spear of the wolf."

"Jason-Eyolf? His-"

Grandmother nodded.

"Damn. Never would have bet on that one." Idona turned back to the fight.

John rocked back as the demon's fist caught him, but the pool cue worked as a cane, steadying him. His fist lashed out, impacting hard enough to set the demon back. John limped forward, using the cue to give him the extra second to find his balance. "Sam? Could use a hand pinning this bastard."

Sam quickly set about making another circle with the salt, this one smaller to give the demon less room to fight. "Ready when you are," he yelled.

John nodded, turning his body and slamming the cue into the demon's throat, following it with a sharp jab to it's stomach. Finally, it was in the circle, and John slammed the cue against its temple with all his strength, stunning it.

"Got it." With a last bit of salt, the circle closed, imprisoning it. Sam hurried over to John, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

John wiped the blood off his mouth, spat on the floor. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you exorcise it?"

"Smell."

Sam took a deep breath. No brimstone. "What the fuck?"

"Not all demons can be exorcised."

"Nice time to tell me that one, Dad."

"He let it in, Sam." John eyed the snarling man on the other side of the circle, his expression shadowed. "He wanted the demon, wanted the power. You can't get rid of that. I might be able to exorcise the demon, but he'll die anyway. It's too deep in him. That's why he couldn't use its telekinesis-he's not a strong enough host. You take it willingly and you carve out a piece of yourself. Makes it easier for them to eat you alive. Which is no better than they deserve."

The demon wiped its mouth with the back of one hand and sneered. "You should know, meat-puppet. How'd it feel to hurt your b-"

John didn't flinch, hitting it with more holy water in the face.

"Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do with him?" Sam asked.

The blond (the owner?) stepped out from behind the bar, hefting a large machete. "Here."

John nodded. "Thanks. I wasn't carrying anything big enough." He glanced at Sam. "You might want to stand back."

"Dad, you can't just-"

"Sam," John said gently. "It's the only way." He took the machete from the blond, and looked back at Sam. "I'm sorry."

John left the 'that you had to see this' unspoken.

Sam watched, eyes wide, as his father turned back to the demon. John spritzed the demon with holy water, murmuring a barely audible prayer before he let fly with the machete. A thump. The head rolled unsteadily across the floor, and then half under the pool table.

Gingerly, Sam put his foot under the table and fished around until he could push the head out. He could feel them being watched by the few people left in the bar. He wasn't sure exactly how to explain this one, what with the 'power of Christ compels you' and the beheading and such.

As he bent to pick up the head, something thunked down on the table. Sam jumped, looking up into the face of an attractive young blonde. She grabbed the head by the hair, and nodded at the beer she'd just put down in front of Sam. "I'll put this out back."

"I- but- what?" Sam looked over at his father for help, and found that the blond who'd handed Dad the machete was already hauling the body out. John had pulled a picture out of his coat and was talking at the blond full-stop, his voice low and intense as the blond nodded. Sam blinked at the crazy Viking people, then grabbed his beer. "...Do you need any help?"

The blonde, whose nametag declared her to be Idona, shrugged. "It's one head. I'll manage. We've had worse this last week."

"There were the imps," the male blond mused, hefting the body over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. "And the zombies."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I just got my clothes clean." Idona waved them at a table, one of the few left standing. There were long gouges along the side. "Go on, sit. Enjoy your beer."

"Thanks?" Sam said slowly.

She gave Sam a tired wink and trudged out of the room after the other blond, presumably a relative. Sam sat, wincing silently as he saw the careful way his father lowered himself into a seat across from him. He'd pay for that fight later tonight.

Raising his own beer in a sardonic toast, John took a deep drink. "They've seen Dean," he said finally, when he came up for air. "He took off a few days ago. Left his fake ID. Sven there tracked him a few miles before he gave up on catching up him, but he went far enough that he's pretty sure Dean's heading west. Don't drink too much of that beer. You might need codeine later."

Not for the first time, Sam wondered how the hell his father got that all out in one breath without sounding rushed. Necessity was probably the mother of invention there, seeing as John didn't want to risk giving Sam an in to interrupt him. "S'okay," Sam said. "I'll skip the beer. You take the codeine, I'll drive."

"I'm fine."

"Sure."

They looked at each other across the table.

"I don't take your orders," Sam said finally. "I've hunted on my own, and I don't need directions."

"You've hunted with Dean. Whole different animal from hunting alone."

"Fine." Sam pressed the sweating beer to his temple, the dull ache of clenching his jaw to keep from snarling at John. "I wasn't going to tell you not to kill him. I was going to tell you to take it out back to save on clean-up."

"Oh." John stared moodily at his beer for a moment. He started to say something, then stopped, frowning at the old woman who had materialized beside their table.

Sam nudged his father with his toe. "Don't decapitate this one."

"Old," the old woman said sharply. "Not deaf."

Sam tried to hide his smile, and gave her his best eyes. The ones that got free coffee from waitresses and the last fries from Dean. "Sorry, ma'am."

John had another deep drink of his beer, not quite looking at either of them. After a moment, he said, "Do you need a chair, ma'am?"

The old woman gave John an arch look, then ignored him completely in favor of reaching for Sam. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw his father tense. He shot him a warning look and leaned over to let the old woman do whatever she was going to. Probably pinch his cheeks. Annoying, but not harmful. Actually, the way she pushed the hair out of his face was kind of nice.

"Tired," the old woman said finally. "Both sons and father. Long hunt."

"It'll be over soon," John said grimly. "You saw my boy?"

The old woman squinted at John, then gave a crooked smile and nodded. "Your boy. Yes. Garm." She pointed at Sam. "Your boy."

"No," John said, frustrated. "The other one."

"Leave him, Gunnolf. He leads it off. Take the sacrifice." The old woman spread her wizened hands. "Take the sacrifice, and this hunt will end."

John's face tightened, his hand clutching the table until it creaked. Sam tensed, wondering if he was going to have to keep his father from smacking the old woman. Cause that would suck, and honestly, Sam wasn't sure he could anyway.

When John spoke, though, his voice was quiet, almost even. "Dean is not a sacrifice. He is my son. And if I have to follow him into hell, I will not give up on him."

"It would end the hunt. It would be gone, your quest over. Vengeance satisfied."

John shook his head. "No."

"More will die. Maybe you. Maybe him," she jerked her head at Sam.

John met Sam's eyes levelly. "If either of them died, it would kill me anyway. And Sam's made his choice. We're going after Dean."

She touched his face, and cracked another almost-smile John leaned back in his chair. "Gunnolf, fighting wolf. Garm, he who guards the gates of hell." She turned, looking at Sam. "Gierolf Garm, the spear of the wolves. Eyolf Garm, the lucky wolf. Your Dean." Her eyes closed for a moment. "Seattle."

"Seattle?" Sam asked. "Dean went to Seattle? He hates grunge."

"Oh, shit," John murmured. "The lockers."

Sam swiveled back, eyes narrowing. "Lockers?"

"One of the older hunters, he made a big vault of an old building on the bad side of town. It's like your general public storage type place, but seriously secure, with fingerprint entry. I have one there, with weapons, I.D.s, extra cash. A few years back, not long before you started college, Dean opened a vault for you in case something happened to him and you needed it."

Sam shook his head. "He couldn't take leaving for college for an answer. Never could."

The old woman touched Sam's cheek lightly. "Because. They both always knew it was about you, child. It always wanted you."

Across the table, John closed his eyes.

Oh, Jesus. It was one thing to suspect it, looking at Max and Rosie and the other children that the demon had hunted. It was one thing to let it keep him up nights, wondering if he'd just never met Jess, if he'd just lived with contacts instead of friends, whether more people would still be breathing. It was one thing to have the demon taunt him with how 'special' Sam was, how much Sam was worth to it.

It was entirely different to see that look on his father's face, and know all those things that haunted Sam had been the truth. No matter what Dean said to comfort him, no matter what Sam told himself to keep going.

Sam lifted his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the old woman had shuffled over to an unoccupied chair. Her damage was done, apparently. "Dad?"

"I never wanted you to hear that, Sam," he said softly, voice thick. "I'm sorry."

"You knew it might come back," Sam said quietly.

"No. I didn't know you were having visions. If I had known-"

"You should have told me!" Sam yelled. "I would never have left Jess- hell, I never have gotten anywhere near her in the first place! I got her killed! My damned gift. My special gift. If I'd known-"

He'd have denied it. He'd have chased that picket fence.

"We didn't know." John answered, pitching his voice low. "I didn't know. Not for sure. Not until Jess- until that thing came for you in Stanford. It'd been quiet for years."

"Then I should've known that you had suspicions. I could've..." Done exactly nothing. Sam stared at the bottle, twisting it in tight circles on the tabletop. When he spoke again, the anger slid around like a compass needle to put back at Sam, at the place where the guilt really lived. He could be pissed at John, yell about the fucking 'need to know basis' bullshit, but at the end of the day... "I should've known. I should've warned Jess. And Jesus, Dean could've-"

"Don't start with that." Looking tired, John rubbed at his eye. "We should focus on finding your brother, not on hypothetical bullshit."

"Bullshit?" Sam echoed, dangerously.

"I thought you had a chance, for Christ's sake!" John barked, the sudden burst of sound making Sam start. "Do you think I wanted Dean to be a hunter? Do you think I wanted this for you? I tried, dammit. I just wanted you to be able to protect yourselves. I wanted both of you to have normal lives!"

Sam blinked, startled by the force in his father's voice. "Dad-"

"But your brother..." John sighed. His lips curled in an almost smile. "Every time I tried to go on a hunt, I'd find you two somehow in the back seat. He learned how to strip a gun watching me. The one night, I dragged myself back in after a hunt and just left my stuff on the floor. By the time I woke up, he'd cleaned them, put them back together and reloaded them for me. He was 6. Maybe 7.

"That's a father's goddamned worst nightmare, finding your boy with a gun in his hand. Scared the shit out of me. I tanned his hide and told him not to do it again. Couple weeks later, something snuck in through the window of the babysitter's. Damned near killed Dean. If I hadn't come home early that hunt-" John stared distantly at his beer bottle. "I trained him. When you were old enough, I trained you. I'm not proud of that, but it was what needed to be done. It was that or leave you two unarmed. Risk Dean stealing one of my guns to protect you without knowing how to be safe about it. I wasn't doing that. From the beginning, I knew Dean wasn't getting out of this life. But you..."

"You told me to get out." Sam stared at his father, struggling to make this make sense. "You told me I abandoned you and Dean when you needed me. And now you're telling me you didn't want me on the hunt?"

John's mouth thinned. He drained the bottle, then got up. "We ought to get back on the road. We're about a day behind him as of Seattle, and God only knows where he's got to now."

Yeah. The Dean Sam knew might've holed up in the storage locker with a Devil's Trap and a whole lot of guns, but that Dean would also figure backup was coming. That Dean wasn't alone and hunted by something that had damned near killed them all. With a grim nod and a look, warning his father that this discussion wasn't over, Sam got up.

The old woman was suddenly there, blocking Sam, though he would've sworn that she was still sitting when he started to move. His hand twitched towards the knife strapped to the inside of his jacket, but he stilled it with an effort and forced a smile. Half the reason he could still his hand was that he felt his father at his back. Frustrating and painful as John Winchester was, Sam trusted him to provide cover. "Excuse me, ma'am. We need to go."

The old woman shook her head, reaching underneath her tattered shawl. She came up with a thin red cord, threadbare and stained with age. She offered it to Sam at the end of her fingertips. "For the pain. Easier to be blind at first. They need your sight."

"Oh." Gingerly, Sam took the cord out of her gnarled hands. He slipped it over his head, feeling kind of like he was twelve again with one of Pastor Jim's congregation trying to force-feed him and make him itchy sweaters. The cord was cool against his throat. It didn't help with the pain as far as he could tell, but it was nice of her anyway. "Much better. Thanks."

She grunted and turned away, apparently done with him. Putting out a hand, she stopped John in his tracks. Her voice was crisp and quiet as she said, "Mary will try."

They exchanged a long look in silence, John searching her upturned face. The raw look on his father's face made Sam glance away. The seconds ticked by, making Sam edgy. He cleared his throat and murmured, "Dad."

John shook his head and came back, his eyes dark with focus. Without a word to the old woman, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. "Go start the van. I'll tell Idona and Sven who to call if they need help and how to reach us if Dean calls."

Sam went. The van grumbled in the cold, threatening to stall out, then woke with a muffled roar. Sam took a moment to sketch a quick Devil's Trap on the hood and the back window. By the time he finished, his father was back with two go-cups of coffee. It was a sure sign of marathon driving. Sam was good with that.

In silence, John handed him the cup and settled back with his own. His expression was shadowed in the full sunlight, like he didn't quite belong there.

The quiet gave Sam too much space to think. After a few miles, he turned the radio on, skipping from traffic report to traffic report. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father worrying his wedding ring, already worn smooth and thin in places.

He could've married Jess. She could've gotten pregnant. They could've had kids. Was it mercy that she'd died before Sam got the chance?

No. It was a lot of things, but it wasn't mercy.

Sam pushed the gas pedal down. Drove faster. Drove most of the day and into the night, until his leg was stiff and his hands were unsteady and his eyes didn't want to focus anymore. They paused long enough to switch places, kept on driving like it was a vigil or a wake.

They need your vision. What the hell made his vision worth this? His father's life was destroyed. His mother and Jess were dead. Dean was being hunted down. And for what?

The road had no answers. Only a lot of empty space. He and his father both still flinched as they passed a truck, the roar of its engine and the smell of its exhaust. Sam's head hurt like hell.

Hold on, Sam thought, staring at the twin beams carved out by the headlights. Hold on. Hold on.

Comments

[lilmissfury.livejournal.com]

Oh wow, that just did things to my insides that I can't even explain. And the Dean/John/Sam undertones were so damned wow...I can't explain it.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* I'm glad you enjoyed it. I can't say we were going for slash vibes, but I can't say that it's suprising, considering. *grin* Thanks!

[lilmissfury.livejournal.com]

I can't say it's surprising considering who you're talking to either. I see Slash where everyone else says there is no Slash...of course then again my mom thinks I'm nuts cause I wanna lick the thighs of a man old enough to be my father...well if he were a really young dad.

Me a Slash ho...never.

[mirrorskippy.livejournal.com]

I haven't commented before now, but I'm totally addicted to this story, just so you know.

Also, I looked at your profile and did a double-take, cause, dude, you go to my school. As in, we're both at Loyola right now (well, not right now, semester's over, but you know what I mean). I'm in my greyhounds t-shirt, for goodness sake. I don't have any point to this effect, I'm just excited that SOMEONE other than myself at that school likes SPN :-)

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* Small world! I'll just say thank you and let nilchance reply when she gets a moment.

[nilchance.livejournal.com]

Hee! What a cool coincidence. Grad or undergrad?

Also, thanks!

[mirrorskippy.livejournal.com]

undergrad doing psych/writing with a natural science minor, although I'm spending the next two semesters in Europe - you?

Your welcome, I can't wait for the next part :-)

[muffaletta.livejournal.com]

Lot of great exposition in this chapter. As if Sam wasn't broody enough, try this news on for size! And to know that Dean is being hunted because of his visions.....oh, that's bad.

Granny's warnings sounded a lot like foreshadowing. Still hoping for a happy ending, though! (Not asking you to tell, just putting in my request.) After everything they've gone (and will no doubt still go through), these three deserve a long vacation in Tahiti with lots and lots of alcohol!

[beanside.livejournal.com]

Poor John. He got to weild the mighty exposition stick this chapter. *grin* I'm glad you're enjoying it, still.

But if they go to Tahiti, Dean would have to fly and that would be bad. *grin* We'll see as far as the happy ending. But really, in the end, it's up to the reader to decide whether it was happy or not. *is mightily bitter about the Alias Finale last night*

[staceey.livejournal.com]

Whoa this just....damn at the risk of repeating myself...keeps getting better and better. This is really an amazing story.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*blush* Thank you!

[squee1123.livejournal.com]

I did one of those arms-in-the-air-loud-WOOHOO things that I'm so prone to. You jsut keep us on the edge here. Its kind of evil.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

Hmm...only kind of evil? We'll have to work on that. *grin* I'm glad you're enjoying it! Thanks!

[dolimir-k.livejournal.com]

Excellent section! A lot of good info about Sam and his past and John's. Very cool!

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* Poor John, he's always the one stuck with the info dump. I'm glad you liked it though. Thanks!

[whisp.livejournal.com]

:) Great chapter. I liked seeing John and Sam working (err.. fighting) together. They've still got some kinks to work out in terms of fighting effieciently with each other, but it's starting to smooth out for them. Can't wait till the track down Dean.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

They've probably got a few more bumps in the road, I'm thinking. I'm glad you liked!

[koyote19.livejournal.com]

I've been very remiss in feedback lately, but this is one of the few fics I've made a point of waiting for every day, breathless and on the edge of my seat. I'm really loving your characterizations, as Dean begins to piece his life back together and John and Sam learn to actually be father and son, without Dean to hold them together or apart (whichever was necessary at any given time)

Love this story.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*blush* Thank you for the kind words!

And exactly. It kind of came down to the demon's words to Dean. He needs them more than they need him. Was it true? Or was the truth when he said that Dean was what held the family together? Once we had that question in our head, the rest was easy...sort of.

*grin*

[la-colere.livejournal.com]

Totally OT, and I'm really sorry (really!):

Ahoy, hoy! I'm just going through my BPAL sales records and I see I haven't left you feedback for our transaction (OH NOEZ!). So, dude, when you have a chance could you please drop me the URL to your feedback page? And if you don't have one, can you please let me know so I don't bug you again about this? Cheers, sweetheart!

[berne.livejournal.com]

Gah, I love this. And I love that it's become a part of my morning routine: get up; make breakfast; turn on laptop; check for Of Bastard Saints update; brush teeth... I'll miss it when it's finished.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* There's still a ways to go. I think this might be about the halfway point. And there's a good probability of a sequel.

I'm glad you like it! Thanks!

[liptonrm.livejournal.com]

I love the Vikings! And Sam kicked the door in! *fans self*

Seriously, though, I am really digging this story. It's exciting and action-packed while at the same time dropping in great bits of history and character. It has everything and I can't get enough of it.

I can't wait to see what happens next, even though I know it's only going to tear my heart out.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

Damned Vikings. *grin* They hijacked two chapters, more or less.

I'm glad you're enjoying it though. We just tried to write what we like. Turns out, other people liked that too.

The next chapter...well, it's...special. *laugh* We'll just say that Dean is unique and leave it at that.

Thanks for the kind words!

[acf151.livejournal.com]

Do we have to leave it at that? YaY! Seriously, thank you guys for posting a new chapter reliably every day. It's really helping to make the month pass by.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*laugh* I could point out that Dean can be the short bus kind of special sometimes.

And again, thank you!

[acf151.livejournal.com]

I love the idea that Dean learned watching John, and cleaned his dad's guns for him and that that is what started it. It makes me like John's parenting methods better, knowing he recognised that artillery isn't for children, but in their case it was safer for Dean to have the knowledge.

This is such a great fic.

[beanside.livejournal.com]

*grin* nilchance and I are kind of unapologetic John fangirls, I'm afraid. I think he's fucked in the head, but I think he did the best he could with what he knew. And that anything he did, he did with the intent of keeping them safe in a world that was far more deadly than he'd ever dreamed. But of course, all that is just fanwank until Kripke tells us otherwise. But for the fic, that's what we're going with.

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying it.