Title: In The Hands Of Time
Main Characters: Sam, Dean
Secondary Characters: John, Mary
Spoilers: I am sure just about everyone reading this has seen the first season, but just in case someone hasn't, this begins at the end of Devil's Trap, and there are mentions of events from Faith and the Pilot. There might be others in future chapters, but if there are, they should be very small spoilers. :)
Summary: Dean is given the chance to change the fate of the Winchester family. He has years of hunting experience, the knowledge of the demon's weaknesses, and determination on his side. However, one small obstacle stands in his way…
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. I am just borrowing the characters, and I promise not to treat them any worse than Kripke does… (thinks of what happened in the season finale) Wait... that didn't sound as comforting as it was meant to. ;) (grins)
A/N: Yes, for anyone reading my Star Wars fic, "Falling From the Light," I know, I am terrible, lol. I am nearly finished with the next part of "Falling," but I got the Supernatural DVDs a couple days ago, and they have inspired my Supernatural muse. I am trying to get that out of my system. This idea was just too much fun to pass up. (blushes)
A/N2: This will be the first multi-chapter Supernatural fic I have started. :) It is a time-travel fic, but hopefully, unlike any you have seen before. :) I want to let everyone know that updates will probably be pretty far apart, but I wanted to get this up to see if anyone would be interested. :) Please be patient with me. I promise I will do my best to make this story well worth the wait.
Thanks as always to my incredible beta Darth Mom, who has been kind enough to listen to all of the Supernatural plot bunnies that have so viciously attacked me, and who never fails to be the best beta I could ever ask for.
In The Hands Of Time
Dean knew that he was dying. It wasn't something he could explain, he just knew. He could feel his body shutting down, feel his life slipping away with every strangled breath he took.
He'd been through a lot in the past, been injured on hunts more times than he cared to count, but he'd only felt this once before: in Nebraska, after he'd been told he had a month, at most, left to live. Things had been slow and drawn-out then, his life ebbing, fading as the days passed, leaving him to only wait for the inevitable.
Now though, he felt like a dam had burst somewhere and the life was simply draining out of him. His eyes were still open, but the haze that clouded his vision wouldn't allow him to see anything beyond vaguely recognizable shapes, and just holding his head up was now demanding more of his strength than he would have ever thought possible.
Dean didn't want to die.
He wasn't afraid of it; he accepted it, but he didn't want it. He wanted to be there for his family. Maybe they didn't need him as much as he needed them, but they did need him. Who else would be there to keep his dad and Sam apart when they were at each other's throats? Who else would keep Sam from taking himself too seriously, or remind their dad to take care of himself? Who else would keep them from sacrificing themselves for revenge?
But, as Dean shivered involuntarily from the cold that was now spreading throughout his body, he knew he might not have a choice.
He felt his head fall forward and he fought to pull it back, trying to ignore the darkness that had started to encroach on what little he could still see. If this was it, then he wanted to say goodbye -- wanted to say so many things -- but he couldn't. It was all he could do to remain conscious, let alone make any last minute speeches. Dean, though, was nothing if not stubborn, and he closed his eyes, trying to find a reserve of strength somewhere that hadn't been completely depleted.
Maybe he wouldn't be able to say much, but he could at least tell Sam and his dad not to blame themselves, that it wasn't their fault. But, before he could speak, the sound of screeching metal reached his ears, and suddenly he was thrown violently against the door.
It was an odd moment. In reality, it probably took only a fraction of a second, but to Dean it seemed as though it happened in slow motion, long minutes passing in the span of an instant. He felt the momentum of the crash throw his body into the door, and a sharp pain ripped through his side.
Distantly, he recognized that on top of everything else, he probably now had a few very badly broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung. As his head drew closer to the metal frame around the window, he knew without a doubt that the impact was going to rob him of consciousness, and when it did, chances were, he was never going to wake up again.
Maybe none of us will, he realized as he thought of his brother and father in the front of the car. What if they all died tonight? No, he thought desperately. He could accept his own death, but not theirs. Never theirs. But what could he do? He was weak, too weak to do anything but watch the scene play out before him.
Please, Dean prayed feeling his desperation mount, please God, if You can hear me, take me, but don't let them die. Please. I just…I just wish there was some way I could go back and change all this…
With that, there was a bright flash of light, and suddenly, everything went black.
Dean shot up in bed, blood pounding in his ears, his breathing ragged. Sweat was running down his face, and his hands shook slightly.
Some dream, he thought, taking a deep breath, and trying to calm his racing heart. He hoped he wasn't somehow sharing Sam's gift, because that was certainly a future he didn't want to face. His whole family gone…
Not liking the turn his thoughts had taken, Dean tried to push the images of the dream away, and took in his surroundings. The dream must have shaken him up even more than he thought though, because for some reason, he didn't know where he was.
It was too dark to see much, but what he could see didn't make any sense. He was laying in bed, but instead of the usual plain sheets most motels had, these sheets were covered in…
Batman? he thought in absolute disbelief. I'm laying in a bed with Batman sheets!
Sure, he and Sam had stayed in some freaky motels this last year, but…Batman?
Confused, he looked over to where Sam's bed should have been, expecting to see his younger brother's form sprawled across the mattress, but there was nothing. No bed… no Sam.
Dean was alone.
No, that couldn't be, he thought resolutely. Maybe he was still dreaming and his nightmare had taken some bizarre turn… or maybe Sam had decided to make a preemptive strike and start their prank war again before Dean could. If that was the case, than this sure had to be the mother of all pranks…
Dean closed his eyes and tried to think, wracking his brain for an explanation of what was going on. The last thing he remembered was the dream, and before that… nothing. No reason for him being here, no reason for Sam to be gone… nothing.
Sighing, Dean went to run his hands through his hair.
Instead of his short hair, Dean's fingers met long, tangled strands.
What? he wondered in confusion.
He hadn't had long hair in forever, not since…
Frantically, Dean searched the darkened room, finding a lamp on the table next to the bed. He flicked on the light then sprang to his feet and ran to the mirror hanging above a small dresser on a far wall.
The mirror had pictures of Batman clumsily stuck to it, and a couple action figures lay face-down on the dresser. But what held his attention, was his reflection.
Staring back at him, was his four-year-old self.
A/N: I am not sure how long this will be, though at the moment I have about seven chapters planned. As I said, updates will probably not be very often, though I will do my best. :)
Please review and let me know what you think!