Author's Note: Or possibly warning. This story is built around the song "Stay" by Shakespeare's Sisters. If you haven't heard it yet you can find it on youtube. I love lyrics and always listen to them. This one lent itself beautifully to a Winchester story. Now, this is actually the first fanfic I wrote and it happend during a weekend in a writer's frenzy I hadn't seen since high school. Two days and 20 pages later I sat dazed in front of the computer and wondered what happened.

I then asked a few friends if they wanted to read it, telling them it was probably awful since it was a first attempt. But they encouraged me and, well, that's how I wound up here. However, since it was the first one I felt a bit self-conscious and it's not until now I am putting it out there, at everyone's mercy. I have tried to iron out a few wrinkles and cut a little and added a little.... but....

I hope I can deal with criticism, so feel free to give me a few pointers if you think it's anything I can improve on.

Disclaimer: Supernatural is my obsession but not my possession.

Spoilers: It's set in season four so everything up until then is fair game.


If this world is wearing thin…

Dean, Sam and Bobby were leaning over the map laid out on Bobby's kitchen table. They had carefully drawn all the signs in and were now studying it intently. There was some definite activity there though where wasn't these days? What was particularly worrying about this specific pattern was the area in the middle. Dean sighed and admitted:

"I'm sorry. I can't get it to a coincidence however I choose to look at this. They ARE looking for the grave of Samuel Colt. They are steadily closing in on that area. This area."

Sam and Bobby, having arrived at the same conclusion and feeling just as frustrated, straightened their backs and nodded slowly, simultaneously. Bobby sat down at the table and mutely handed Sam his empty coffee cup.

"Neither can I. But at least we know they haven't found it just yet. There is still time to foil their plans and maybe find that grave ourselves. Preferably before we are looking at freshly turned soil. This is practically in my back yard you know and I don't want anyone digging here but me. You boys sure John never mentioned any specific location?"

Sam poured coffee into Bobby's cup and, after a questioning glance at Dean, filled his as well. Dean frowned and stretched out his hand, automatically, for his father's worn journal.

"Fairly sure", he said while absentmindedly weighing the journal in his hands. "After all, he didn't know anything about hunting before mum died. At least he never mentions knowing, so it's probably a fair bet she never told him anything about that particular family secret. And it's on mum's side we are related to Samuel Colt. Well, according to Missouri."

It had been an exciting séance where Missouri had got hold of their grandfather. He had had a hard time passing through, his words had been distorted, and afterwards Missouri had been completely exhausted. Their grandfather had wanted to come through to help them with the knowledge he had inherited and strengthen their resolve by offering them strong roots. His own hunting had always been made easier with the knowledge of whom his ancestors were, in particular a Samuel Colt. Not to mention that his confidence had always been bolstered when he remembered what said ancestor had triumphed over.

There had been gaps in the information Missouri had managed to "hear", but the pride he had felt for his grandchildren had been unmistakable and that was worth a lot. Both boys hid those words of praise and love as glowing gems of joy within themselves. They had a famous ancestor and a grandfather who fought evil all his life and whose love for them went beyond the grave. It was knowledge that could take you through your darkest hour.

But Missouri had taken a beating doing the summoning and when they had been anxiously hovering around her, making sure she recovered, she had explained why. Their grandfather, Missouri and her spiritual guardians had fought against dark forces who had tried to either eavesdrop on the conversation or, if that proved impossible, disrupt and distort it. It had been a tough, but necessary, fight and she couldn't tell how much the dark side had succeeded in hearing. She had given them a rough location for "his grave, where a serious weapon resided". A serious weapon for serious times. Times like these.

"Yeah", Sam said and handed out coffee cups. "I don't think dad would have gone looking for the legendary Colt out in the world if he had known where that grave was. He would have checked there first. And if he had, and if there hadn't been anything to protect, he would have shown the place to us. He always wanted us to feel close to mum."

Thoughtful, intense silence reigned among the three hunters for almost five minutes. Two of them were wishing it was early night, as opposed to early dawn, so they could have mixed the coffee with a bit of whiskey and one of them thought longingly of a cup of hot chocolate. None of them would get their wish yet though so they all put it at the back of their minds. After a while Bobby spoke again.

"Guess we had better split our forces here. Someone should work on a way to locate the grave and someone should try to get a better look at these demons. We don't know how many they are, nor how strong. All we know is that there are several and they seem to be moving in a slowly narrowing circle. Homing in on where we think the grave is."

"And the one who gets to do all the work here in the warmth, with a bathroom within easy reach, will probably be you, old man. Am I right?" Dean asked and quickly, smiling, moved out of reach as Bobby's strong, hard fist shot out to grab his shirt.

Sam also quickly moved out of reach since he suspected that Bobby would lunge for him next. But Bobby restrained himself, mostly to avoid the embarrassment of losing the fight, and took care not to smile too widely. He loved the boys but real men don't tell each other things like that. They smack each other on the head instead. He went for another angle.

"Yes of course", he grumbled, "we can't have the brains of this outfit being dulled on a stakeout when there is so much information to process. Now, the two of you, you are the dumb muscle here so you can drive around and look for our demons. Should suit you fine."

Under pretended exasperation and light banter the Winchesters made preparations to leave.


Still with me?