Blast From The Past

Disclaimer: Even after all of this time, I still only get to play with the boys then have to send them home, sigh.

Author's Note: For Fandrea, sorry it has taken so long honey but I hope that you enjoy it.

Fandrea put a plot bunny up for adoption on the CWESS; Fic is set in S5, after the boys get back together. They boys meet up a couple of hunters, who need their help (Maybe through Bobby?). (Could be the ones from FTBYAM or complete strangers, your choice, but Dean has to know at least one of them from earlier (Maybe from when Sam was at Stanford) and trust him) The case turns out to be a MOTW that the hunters misidentify. Sam knows something is off and tries to tell Dean, that they need to do more research. Dean of course trusts the hunters more, even when Sam manages to find the real culprit.

I have played a little with the plot so I hope that it still works Fandrea :0)

Author's Note 2: Rated for language and violence, hurt and comfort with hurt! Sam and protective! Dean.


Chapter One: To know … To remember … To forgive.

December 2nd 2005

Dean woke without the prompting from the alarm, his phone or from his insomniac brother, startled he stared around the darkened motel room nothing seemed to be out of place. Yawning he thought about sliding back under the covers and getting another half an hour of sleep and the Busty Asian's Miss March, when he realised what the problem was. No Sam.

Glancing over he stared at the messy bed, and then he let his gaze drift towards the bathroom door but no light broke through the cracks around the door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Dean reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and stumbled over to Sam's, a quick check to find that the sheets were stone cold. 'Sam?' he rasped his voice still tight from lack of sleep, 'Sammy?'

Padding barefoot to the door, he wrapped his arms around his scantily clad torso as the pre-dawn chill wrapped icy tendrils around him. 'Dammit Sammy what are ya thinking?' he mumbled when he spied Sam sitting on the edge of the impala's trunk apparently staring out at ... nothing.

'Sam?' He spoke louder this time not wanting to startle his skittish brother, since Jess' death Sam barely slept or ate and startled at the slightest thing or sound. Not that he could blame him, Dean was sure that if he was in the same position he'd be more of a basket case. 'Whatcha doin' Sammy?'

'Hey Dean.' Sam answered tonelessly, 'just watching the sunrise, me and Jess used to do this after doing an all-night study session.'

Dean bit back a funny reply knowing that if Sam said it was a study session then that is exactly what it was, one thing he knew about his little brother his relationship with Jess did not come under any sort of humour banner. 'How about coming in and getting some more sleep? We don't need to get going for another couple of hours.'

'Nah it's okay, I might ...' Sam's voice drifted off as he lost himself in memories again, the soft pinks and pale yellows of the sunrise reflecting off the tears in his eyes. Shaking his head Dean slid off the car and gently guided his brother down and back into the warmth of their motel room.

'Well if ya not going back to bed then how about a hot shower?' Dean kept a running dialogue going as he guided Sam to the bathroom, 'I might even make us some coffee while you're warming up.'

Sam blinked a couple of times and then gave Dean a tired smile, 'thanks bro ... for ... ya know.'

'Yeah I know so get going before I decide to have first shower.' Dean had to smile when he saw the realisation hit Sam as he hurried to the bathroom slamming the door behind him, 'ah Sammy it's just too easy sometimes.'

While he waited for Sam to finish in the shower, Dean packed their duffle bags and had them waiting for the last minute items on the ends of their respective beds. The message alert flashing on his cell phone screen caught his attention finally, sipping his coffee Dean's gaze flickered to the phone and then to the closed bathroom door. 'What the hell does he want?' Dean mumbled as he read the message his eyes darkening in anger. 'Fuck it all to hell.' He fumed as he rang the number and waited impatiently for someone to pick up only to get the message service.

'Yeah this is Dean Winchester, look Bart I dunno what you've been told and I don't care so just drop it. Dad's in your area so I'll pass the hunt on to him, me and Sam already have one.' Dean clicked the phone off and stared at it. He didn't care about lying to Bart about their having a hunt or the fact that he couldn't pass the hunt on to his father simply because he had no idea exactly where he is or if he's alright. He made another quick call to another hunter friend of his father's who lives in the same area of the hunt and gave him the details and Bart's number. Now that was done he could concentrate on the more important things, helping Sam work through his grief and to find their father. 'Bart had better keep his trap shut,' he muttered running his fingers through his messy and slightly greasy hair, 'hurry up Sammy and if there's no hot water left you're walking ...'


March 2010

Dean started to run; first, just to get some air into his tight lungs but then it became a frantic grab and some sort of freedom. A bitter laugh escaped from deep within him as he pushed himself even faster dodging the piles of wrecked cars, parts and tools, slipping slightly in a muddy puddle he continued to run. He could still hear Sam's screams for help ringing in his ears; he could see the blood stains around his brother's mouth, the black emptiness in his eyes. The stench of sulphur and blood mingled together and assaulted his senses, until it became too much and he stumbled falling heavily onto his knees.

'I can't do this anymore,' he wept though this time he was dry-eyed, his tears had stopped falling a while ago. 'Do anything you want to me, send me back to the pit I don't care just ... make it stop.'

With a bone-aching weariness, he hauled himself to his feet and limped back through the junkyard to Bobby's house, where he knew they were waiting for him and where Sammy was suffering locked in the panic room like a prisoner. A memory came to him as he slowly made his way back, a long-forgotten one of a text message sent nearly five years ago, a hunter he knew from when he was hunting solo. John had bailed on him just like Sam did and for the first time in his life, Dean was on his own, he had met Bart on the hunt for two spirits haunting a hiking trail in the Colorado state park and struck up a fast friendship. Just a year older than Dean and with a similar sense of humour Bart almost filled that void in Dean's life. Almost. Though there was something about Bart that didn't sit right with Dean so he kept their friendship in order, no talk about his family or his past, just hunts, girls, booze and hustling. The finer things in life.

For a reason that Dean could never explain or even find, he refused point blankly to talk about Sam with Bart, his inner-protective streak screamed at him to keep his new friend in the dark when it came to his little brother.

Tripping over a small rock Dean forced himself to concentrate on walking for a few minutes, but the memory wouldn't leave him alone, even after five years he still remembered the text message word for word.


Bobby watched Dean trudge inside, taking in the bloodied scrapes and torn jeans at the knees and the defeated slump of his shoulders, 'git yerself into the shower boy, I'll have some supper ready for ya when yer come down.'

'M'not hungry.'

'Don't cares, but yer eating even if I hafta force feed ya.'

Dean stared down at the man he considered the only father he had left and bit back the angry retort, instead he gave a tired nod and started the arduous journey upstairs, 'how's Sam doin?'

'Castiel said that he's been quiet for a few hours, think the worst of it has passed.'



'I'll be back soon.'

'Dang blasted stubborn Winchesters.' Bobby grumbled as he wheeled himself into the kitchen intent on getting the dumb-fool-idjit at least to eat a few mouthfuls of stew and toast.


Sam lay on the thin mattress in an almost submissive position, his hands and feet still bound to the corners of the steel frame, bound with towels ripped into strips and lined with old blanket pieces. His breathes came in shallow puffs, his shoulders slumped and head turned to the side away from the door. He knew where he was and why, he understood the reasons and logic behind them locking him away once more. He broke their trust, he broke Dean's trust but if it meant saving his brother's life then he would gladly give in to the cravings.

His empty stomach roiled and threatened to start to cramp again, the need to purge still remained although his system was empty, devoid of any tainted blood and fluids. The thought of what he did how he bit into their flesh and drained them of their blood filled him with equal amounts of horror and excitement. The thrill of power coursing through his already powerful frame, the knowledge that he destroyed famine, one of freaking four horsemen of the apocalypse, and he pulled all of the souls out of him, saving the lives of his brother and an angel.

Now, now, he was a hunted and despised man by demons, angels and now hunters, and most likely, he could add Dean and Bobby to the list. They didn't want to hunt him but they didn't trust him and more than likely despised him as well. Why not? He wasn't exactly his own favourite person right now.

'Sam?' Castiel's deep voice penetrated the dark depressive thoughts occupying the younger Winchester's mind; slowly Sam turned his head and stared up at the angel with mournful green eyes.

'You sure you want to be in here with me?' Sam asked dropping his gaze to the floor.

'Sam look up at me please.' Castiel asked as he sat on the very edge of the cot.

'No, I – I don't want to see the pity or ...'

'Or what Sam Winchester?'

'Or hate in your eyes Castiel,' Sam answered so softly that Castiel had to strain to hear him.

'I do not hate or pity you Sam Winchester.'

'Why not? Everyone does anyway.'

'That is an untruth ...'

'Where's Dean then?'

'I believe he is upstairs with Bobby, he showered and is eating.'

'You should be up there too with them Cas not down here with me.'

'I came to bring you upstairs Sam there is no need for you to stay here any longer.' As he spoke, Castiel waved his fingers and the cloth bindings fell away from Sam's wrists and ankles.

'No Castiel, you should leave me here, lock the door and forget about me.'

'Why? That is not necessary you have finished your withdrawals have you not?'

'Yeah ... but that's not to say I won't ...'

'Do not worry about that Sam.'

'Yeah bro, time to get ya up and at em.' Dean stood slouched against the door frame, looking a lot better after eating and showering. 'Coz I gotta say that scent you're working on, it reeks dude.'


The four men sat around the table in comfortable silence, though three of them watched one in particular as he attempted to eat at least a part of his sandwich. Dean sipped his scalding hot coffee and then shot an amused look at a very innocent Bobby.

'Dude you ahh ...'

'Just say thank you.' Bobby said with a slight grin, 'but none for ya Sam until yer stomach settles a bit more.'

'That's okay Bobby, err the milk is fine,' Sam grimaced at the glass of milk sitting in front of him making him feel like a small boy once again. Then, just as the thought came, the memories flooded into his thoughts. Memories of their staying with Bobby as small boys, sitting at the table with their dad and Bobby when Dean would pretend that his milk was actually beer dyed white and then mimic the two adults after a few beers. Memories of playing ball with Dean in the yard while their dad went off hunting and Bobby took care of his salvage yard.

A smile played on his dry, cracked lips almost bringing his dimples out to play; he ducked his head not wanting the others to get the wrong idea of why he was smiling.

'Sam? Whatcha thinkin' about?' Dean asked curiously, when he saw the small smile playing on his brother's face, the sight bringing a small warmth to his seemingly stone-cold heart.

'Just remembering stuff,' Sam mumbled suddenly uncomfortable being the focus of attention.

'Yeah so what memories?' Dean pressed his innate curiosity getting the better of him.

'Remember when you used to pretend that your milk was actually beer dyed white and then you'd take off dad and Bobby?' Sam finally answered after sitting in awkward silence for a couple of minutes, 'I ah I dunno the glass of milk reminded me of it that's all.'

'I remember that, yer daddy wanted to be angry with ya but ... ah Dean ya just were too funny and too accurate.' Bobby chuckled; he could see the small kid with a freckled face with bright green eyes sparkling with mischief, and the tiny dark haired toddler who watched his brother's every move like an eagle. 'You were a dang-blasted imp back then kiddo,' Bobby got out between his chuckles, 'and this one copied everything ya did.'

'I forgot that,' Dean said remembering the look on his dad's face as he pretended to stagger around the room before dropping onto the chair and then little Sammy getting in on the act and staggering behind him only to fall on his well-padded behind. 'I never had any problems drinking milk after that.'

'Well until ya decided it was not cool and wanted nothing but cola,' Bobby added teasingly.

'Yeah I remember dad telling me to suck it up and to pretend it was cola dyed white.' Dean laughed and for the first time in a long time, the weight crushing his chest eased a little.

Castiel watched the humans interact with what seemed to be a detached interest, though that was far from the truth, he craved hearing about their lives, about what it is to be human, to experience emotions especially love and joy and to hear laughter.


A cold panic filled Dean when he couldn't find Sam, Bobby and Castiel were in the den studying copious amounts of ancient text, Dean himself was cleaning his guns yet again when it dawned on him. Sam was gone.

Wordlessly he jumped up and stared wildly around the room, then he saw the shadowed silhouette in the window and his breathing started again. Grabbing his jacket he glanced over at the other two before joining his little brother outside.

'Hey Sammy.'

'Hey Dean.'

'Whatcha doin?'

'Not much just ... thinking.'

'Wanna share with the rest of the class?'

'Nah not really.'

'Sam ...'

'I'm okay Dean honest.'

'Yeah well you shouldn't be sitting out here in the cold.'

'Was just thinking about looking for another hunt.'

'A what?'

'A hunt, ya know hunting the nasties, fighting the good fight saving people ...'

'Alright smartass I know what a hunt is but ... why? Why now?'

'Why not?'

Before Dean could answer his cell phone ringtone blasted out in the night air, shrugging apologetically, he took it out and frowned when he saw the caller's name, 'yeah Bart what's up?'

After finishing the call, Dean looked at his curious but eager brother and sighed, 'looks like we got ourselves a hunt.'

'Who's Bart?'

'A hunter ... did a few hunts with him when you were at school and dad did his disappearing act.'

'Oh,' Sam said simply having the good grace to look down for a second and acknowledging the comment for what it was and not a snipe at him. 'So what's the hunt?'

'Bart thinks it's a Wendigo but ...'

'So when do we leave?'

'In the morning, we're heading to Colorado.' Dean said rubbing the back of his neck he thought about just how much to tell Sam about Bart and decided to choose his words very carefully and tell him what he needs to know and when. No use poking the grizzly bear with a stick.


And here it comes Dean tried to hide his smirk but failed miserably when he saw the look on Sam's face. 'Yeah Sammy?

'So who's Bart?'