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The Long and Winding Road the 2nd

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John Winchester pushed the door open and entered, carrying a duffel bag. He walked through the dark and dripping hallway to a clear space, where he placed the bag down.

The Winchester pulled out a box of white chalk and started drawing a large symbol on the floor. Then he unpacked the remaining contents and assembled them before himself one after another, the process of it slow due to his broken arm.

While it should complicate matters for a normal person, it didn't for John, as he had experience from many injuries suffered before. He put out the six candles, one for each circle drawn in the symbol, and lighted them.

The bowl was next, he put in the ingredients and sliced his right Hand with his good arm. He put down the knife and held his hand above the bowl, for the blood to drop while mumbling the summoning spell.

His hand was trembling, he noticed. Definitely not from cold. No something else was the reason, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear.

He had long stopped being afraid of the things he hunted. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore and instead he would be angry, hateful or disgusted of them whenever on a hunt.

But now he was afraid. Terrified even. Sure, he was angry, too, but mostly he was just incredibly terrified. Not because of yellow eye, but rather for Dean's sake. He was afraid to lose his son.


Then the spell was finished and he lighted the match and let it fall into the bowl. His gaze didn’t follow the match and instead searched the room for any new occupants. He waited for the spell to be finished with the sicle of a big flame. But nothing ever came so he looked down to inspected his work and find the mistake.

And to his surprise and utter terror the match had stopped midair. As well had the candles' flame slight waver. Everything had just stopped, frozen in time. When he looked back up again a man in a black suit, lopsided blue tie, tan trench coat, messy black hair and unnatural ocean blue eyes was standing directly in front of him.

The man moved the bowl aeay from rhe match's reach with the wave of a hand. He made another gesture with his hand and instantly the match continued it's fall, missing the bowl.

John backed away two steps with professional calm while pulling out the Colt and aiming it at the stranger. He didn’t seemed to be bothered at all. And instead of panic or anything alike there was confusion in his face and he cocked his head slightly like some kind of freaking bird.

"What're you?! What yoi want?" His requests was meet by more unblinking stares and more confused head cocking.

And just when John was about to repeat himself the stranger replied: "Hello, John Winchester. There is no importance to what I am, but if it reassures you I'm not the demon you hunt", and simultaneously his eyes glowed white for the briefest of seconds "And to what my Intentions are. I'm here to help. You want to make a deal John, didn't you? Then let’s make a deal."

John released the breath he hasn’t even bern aware he was holding. "What is the price for my son's life?" He asked instantly without thinking twice.

"A life." The answer was cold, just as the man's -demon or whatever he is- face but it wasn’t a thread. "Take mine." He offered. "No. I’m not interested in yours." John felt shocked and it took him quite a while to consider what had been said and answer to it. "If not mine, who's? " "Azazel’s." John’s face went white (the demon/ man/ whatever knew it’s name?) and he thought the Colt would slide out of his trembling hands, but in fact his grip tightened even more. "I believe you are familiar with him and have figured out his name. Anyway, I'll heal your son and in exchange for that you'll help me kill the demon. Is that to your likings?”

Kohn was baffled by the demons formal way of talking but answered calm and steady “Yes. So we have a deal?” He didn’t knew where the hope for it to be so easy had come from but it was destroyed instantly. “No.”

”What more do you want?” he asked it. “The Colt and the bullet. For save keeping.” The tone never changed but still it made a commands out of every word itself. And honestly? If John wasn’t so disgusted, he’d be amazed.

“Have we a deal?” it repeated John’s earlier question. Once again his mouth acted without his brain when he immediately agreed without a second thought. “Yes. Save Dean and I’ll kill the demon.” He summarized the deal. “No. You’ll help me to take down the demon… And give the Colt to me for save keeping.” He added and extended his hand.

He gripped the gun thighter “No. You wont get it until Dean’s healed” And for the first time the thing did something remotely like a human.

It rolled it’s eyes.

Then it disappeared for a few seconds before it reappeared again. “He’s healed now.” Ones again it reached for the Colt but was interrupted by John again. “What, and you think I’ll take you’re word?! You’ll get the Colt when I’ve seen him with my own eyes, you moron.” It’s arm slumped back to it’s side. “Fine.”

"So, how do we seal the deal?... uhm… A kiss?" It wass a rather unpleasant afterthought but the thing answered never the less. "I will touch your soul and burn a mark into it to claim it as mine. Afterwards it'll be upon me to decide what to do with it. In this case I’ll just keep it as a deposit which will be returned to you as soon as our matters regarding the demon are done.” And before John had the chance to ask what was meant the think was suddenly infrot of him with one of it’s hands rested on John’s shoulder, holding him in place, while the other Hand was pressing against his chest.

Almost immediately he was flooded by a hot burning pain. He tried to hold back the urge to scream, but that soon enough turned out to be impossible and it wasn’t long after, that John was howling in pain under it’s unmoving grip.


He could literally feel the hand that before had been idly lying on his chest, now clawing it’s way into him, causing the unbearable pain. His one good hand gripped desperately at the trench coat for hold while his knees buckled beneath him.

His muscles were still twitching and aching when the pain had finally ended. He felt weak and he knew he would have hit the ground hard if it hadn’t been for the steady hand lowering him down to the floor. The last thing he noticed was that he was once again alone then he lost consciousness.




“Help! I need help!” Sam was panicking but he remembered himself enough to shout that much before his attention went back to his brother twitching in the hospital bed and coughing all the while.


The personnel rushed by, giving him pitfil glances, he would have hated on any otherday, but now Sam couldn’t care less. ‘Cause his brother might be dying.

And there was just nothing he could do. There was no monster to blame. No monster to kill. No monster beside yellow eye. But killing him would do nothing to Dean's health.

Revenge wouldn’t save his save his brother now and there was no way in hell he would leave his brother’s side for something that wouldn’t save his life.

He focused back into reality and noticed something major.

His eyes were open, Dean seemed to be wide awake and healthy as hell. The doctor and nurses were removing all the tubes, the heart monitor was perfectly normal and all the stitched up cuts and wounds had been replaced with smooth and healthy skin.

Sam’s jaw dropped automatically and he heard himself mutter something along the line of Oh, god.

As soon as the nurses stepped back and left the room Sam immediately rushed to Dean’s side and checked him over himself.

He was fine! “You’re fine.” He breathed “How’re you feelin’?” Dean looked a bit overwhelmed but answered anyway. “I’m fine, Sammy. Fine.” Sam resisted the urge to correct his name and laughed instead. “What about you? You ‘kay?” Dean asked without bothering any longer with his own health. “Yeah, fine.” “How’s Dad doin’?” he asked next.

The doctor, who by the way was still in the room coughed, interrupting their family business. “sorry, Mr. McGillanty, but there are certain things I’d like to discus with you and your brother about his health.” he said dirwvting his request at Sam.

Later on when the doctor had finally left after listing every single injurie Dean had suffered that had miraculously vanished, which included all of Dean’s injuries.

Dean once again asked “So, where’s Dad? How’s he doing?” Sam snorted at that, ‘cause Dean always caref about them. Always caref for their father. Alwayd cared for their health. And always worried when either of them would be injured or sick. 

But had John cared when Dean had been dying? No! He had still hunted after his stupid revenge!

“Oh, he’s fine. Though to where he is I have no idea. “ He stated. “What?!” The shock and hurt on Dean’s face was clear for a second before he slipped hid mask back on. “He wasn’t in his room last night. The bastard probably hunts that demon again.” He continued further.

Dean send him a disapproving look but nothing more. “Sooo… What happened, while I was… gone?” Dean asked, changing topics.

“After the crash we…” Sam told him everything and was happy to see Dean cracking a smile at one point or another. They were still trying to figure out how the miraculous healing of all of Dean’s internal and visible injuries was possible when a knock at the door interrupted them.


They simultaneously looked up, to see Dad standing in the doorway. He actually smiled and asked “How ya feelin’ son?”

Dean smiled back with a big grin, not bothering at all that the man was only now here and not early when he had awoken. “Good, Dad, I’m fine.” John's smile widened a bit ”That's good to hear.”


The jung Winchester snorted automatically “No thanks to you.” The attention in the room shifted to the speaker. Sam.

“Where were you last night? You summoned the demon, didn’t you?” he asked bitter. “No.” at that Sam actually had to hold back a laugh. ‘Cause that was just Insulting. Just how stupid does he think I am?

“Why don’t I believe you?” he spat approaching his father. “Sam, you don’t understa-“ his explanation was cut short when Sam took a step closer to shout at him.

“There is NOTHING to understand, Dad! Cause Dean was dying and you couldn’t care enough to help him, now could you?! You were to busy getting you’re revenge! No, wait. You didn’t. You were just trying. You were to busy trying to get revenge to help Dean!” Sam panted for air.

At some point he had started to scream, he noticed. Then he continued his voice a desperate whisper. “There is nothing left to explain, Dad.”


After that Sam took his jacket and left the room with a nearly silent “I’ll get the car ready, we’ll leave in an hour.”