Author: supernaturalmommy PM
The guys are thrust right back into a new hunt, as a new evil threatens them and their new friends. Things aren’t always as they seem, and fledgling powers and innocence might not be enough to fight it. But what will it take? SEQUEL to:Look Into His EyesRated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Spiritual - Chapters: 24 - Words: 103,069 - Reviews: 41 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 13 - Updated: 03-02-09 - Published: 01-14-07 - id: 3342004
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Words - Prologue
Author: Supernatural Mommy
Characters: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings
Spoilers: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare
Warnings: PG-13 now but overall R: Language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.
Summary: Follows directly on the heels of Look Into His Eyes. Now everyone is trying to deal with the aftermath of thier fight with a demon. But in the process of dealing, a new evil threatens them all.
A mighty warrior stood guard, his giant body solid and wings unfurled in brilliance. His stance was guarded, tensed and waiting.
Those he protected attracted much evil. He had already destroyed many wicked spirits while he stood guard over the hunters.
He knew that they would need their strength for the battle to come, for they were in the middle. It was yet beginning, but Heaven was watching, unsure yet if the skirmish would become an epic fight with Hell.
The small child in the next room was key: His sister as well. Both of them held power, strengthened by their faith. But the hunters - they held raw power, pure.
The hunters had a role to play on the side of the angels. Yet they had no faith. Curious.
The warrior's thoughts were interrupted by a change in the room. Slight. Barely discernable. His eyes narrowed as he studied the room from his perch above. His body tensed, senses on high alert.
Then he saw it: a black , almost vaporous form mixed in with the shadows, trying to creep unannounced to torment the brothers.
Mika'el advanced on the malevolent spirit that skulked along the floorboards. One strike with his mighty sword and the creature was gone. None of the spirits he had destroyed had presented a challenge to the formidable soldier.
He thanked the Lord for his good fortune and again surveyed the brothers, his lips curling upwards. The smirk looked out of place on the chiseled angelic features.
These humans intrigued him.
He knew they were good, courageous. He knew also that they were exceptional hunters. And, he knew they had been fighting against the supernatural evil in their world for a while already, with great success.
He was quite impressed, actually; Just wish they believed in his Lord. He wondered if they believed in angels, even. Doubtful.
He leaned his shoulder against the wall of the hospital room, keeping steady vigil. His gaze flicked protectively towards the bed, where the hunter called Sam was sleeping fitfully. Something was tormenting the younger brother. And it wasn't supernatural.
He could protect the brothers from only so much. Their own inner demons and fears were their own to conquer. He watched as the elder brother awoke to study the younger.
Mika'el grinned softly, admiring the elder's protectiveness. The being knew the younger was normally quite capable of taking care of himself, but he also knew that the younger brother would need protecting for the battle to come. He was in danger. More danger than either brother realized.
Though the group spread over these two rooms had won the last battle, their victory had helped create a new evil in human form. Now a wicked man was spinning out of control. And that manMika'el shook his head. He stopped that thought.
The Lord's will would be done.
Mika'el's eyes glittered in divine determination. He prayed Heaven could win the coming battle.
Otherwise, the end would come very soon.
This was getting old. Sam was still sleeping, and he was getting bored.
Sam woke up briefly late last night when Bobby came in for a visit. Whatever holy mojo the little guy laid on his brother helped him break free of unconsciousness, but within minutes Sam had been exhausted and fallen into a deep sleep.
Bobby was something else. Dean shook his head.
The little guy had ganged up,with Sam, against him. Bobby really thought he needed to tell Dean not to call his own brother Sammy. Hilarious.
And with a huge grin, Sammy had gone along with it. Letting Bobby know he could call him Sammy, but he didn't really like it when Dean did. Little brother sure had it coming for that one.
But that was hours ago.
And he really needed a chance to talk to his brother. He needed desperately to know he was going to be okay.
The doctor had already been in: swelling in the left frontal lobe - that was the most significant injury they still needed to observe. The repercussions echoed through Dean's head. Depending on what section of the brain the pressure affected, Sammy could have any number of things wrong with him.
The doctor had assured him it would hopefully be temporary. Maybe his little brother would just beat the odds and nothing would be wrong at all. Maybe once the swelling went down, his Sammy would be back. And maybe pigs would fly.
Being a Winchester about guaranteed Sam wouldn't have an easy time of it. But he could hope.
Until his brother woke up and spoke with him, he could hope for the best. So it was with concern he noted how fitfully his brother was starting to sleep. Man, couldn't he go without the nightmares for just a little while?
He reached forward and grasped Sam's hand, hoping the contact might help calm him. When it didn't, he couldn't help getting more anxious.
Dean sighed again. The minutes ticked by and he felt silly holding Sam's hand like a freaking girl. He let go, missing the warmth, wishing there was another way he could offer that small bit of strength to Sam.
This was taking too long. He just wanted answers.
"Dean." Somehow he had missed those green eyes opening, lost in his thoughts. He mentally kicked himself and peered closely at his brother. He sighed in relief when he saw recognition.
"How you feeling there, Sammy?" he grinned, holding his breath as he waited for his brother to say anything.
"You're such a prick, Dean." What? Dean studied Sammy as his eyes opened in shock, surprised to see his brother look almost as shocked as he felt.
"What?" Dean looked around the room, thinking he must have missed something. He looked back to study his brother. Sammy still looked a little shocked.
Then something seemed to click; it seemed Sam remembered the train of thoughts that had started his Dean-bashing session.
"I told you I don't want you to call me that!" He paused long enough to catch his breath, and started again. "What, you think you have the right to call me whatever you want? What if I called you Deanie every time I wanted to? It would get old, right? You wouldn't like it."
Sam stared furiously at his brother.
He turned his head away.
Dean knew he looked about as shell-shocked as he felt. He couldn't believe Sammy . . . Sam . . . got that upset over a stupid nickname. He only used it because, well. . . to be quite the chick, it made him feel good.
When Sam turned back to face him, his breath caught. His little brother's face had crumpled. Eyes spilled over with tears and they fell unbidden down his face. He looked like he had lost his best friend.
"Oh man, Dean, I'm so sorry." Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. And swallowed again. "I don't know where that came from, or why I got so upset. Man, I don't even really care . . ."
He trailed off, sniffling. His lip quivered. He reminded Dean of a little Sammy from long ago.
"I just give you a hard time about it because, well" Here Sam looked unflinchingly into his brother's eyes. "It's what I'm supposed to do. It makes me feel good."
He laughed, then rested his head in his hands.
"I can't believe that. What is going on with me" He looked up to meet Dean's still shocked eyes. "I feel like such a chick."
"Sammy . . . Sam, it's okay. The doctor said you might have trouble for a while." At Sam's look of utter confusion, he explained further. "You really bashed your head. You've got swelling in your frontal lobe. The left side. It can make it hard to control what you say."
He paused and grinned.
"It can make you act like a chick too." Sam's eyes filled with fresh tears and Dean groaned inwardly. Man. "It'll be okay, man. The doctor said that it would go away as the swelling went down. Within the next few days."
"Really? You're not just saying that?" He gave Dean those eyes.
Dean swore to himself. That was unfair. The kid should not be able to pull those eyes out at whim.
"I mean it, Sam. It'll be okay. I promise." Dean patted his brother's hand. He was surprised when Sam leaned forward and about pulled Dean onto the bed as he jerked him into a full body hug.
"I love you man." Okay, he was getting the front of his shirt wet. He could feel Sam sniffling against his chest . . . still crying? Dean looked frantically around the room and groaned when he could find no magic means of ending this 'moment'.
"I love you so much" Okay, this was weird. He remembered the doctor saying it would seem scary and overwhelming to Sam. But this? This overwhelming? Another sob rocked him and Sam snuggled closer in a really uncomfortably cute way.
"UhSam? Dude! Come on. You're getting my shirt wet." Sniffling pathetically, Sam pulled away. He turned his head to the side.
"Sorry, man." He pulled at a loose thread on the sheet, not meeting Dean's eyes.
He turned his head back around to face Dean. But the expression on his face was one of terror. Dean gripped his hand.
"Sam?" He watched as his brother's eyes watered and his head locked down and to the side. He was still watching in shock as his brother started moving his right arm. He pulled it up against his body and it trembled there, frozen in position. Within seconds, he started drooling and his breathing started to hitch. That was when Dean pushed the nurse's button.
He tried to look Sam in the eye as his head and then his right arm started to jerk rhythmically. The dead expression in his brother's eyes terrified him.
"Sam? Sam!" Dean couldn't help it. He screamed his brother's name.
This was the other symptom. The one he hadn't wanted to really think about.
I'm interested in seeing how many different myths you notice sprinkled throughout the fic, both about religion, autism, special needs in general, dealing with "angels" and all. I used a BUNCH of them! Yes, this fic has a heavy religious theme - almost entirely because of the OC's I'm utilizing. While it's an integral part of the storyline, I don't think you have to agree with the viewpoint presented to enjoy reading at all.
I'm updating at my LJ, working on other fics, and editing/betaing as well. If I shirk my updating duties give me a poke! Reviews are great for my morale, but they also help prod me along. grin
With all that out of the way ... I hope you enjoy reading Ancient Words and find something to take away from the tale.