Chapter Text
Sam checked the sun’s position once again. It was vital that he timed everything correctly, as he knew this would likely be his only chance to finally fix all of his mistakes.
Checking his invisibility spell was in place, he began chanting, watching as the purple gold glow of the portal started to form.
Moving swiftly to one side just in case, the moment his surroundings changed to those of the other world, Sam looked anxiously around himself.
Not seeing any sign of unfriendly welcoming comittees, sam heaved a sigh of relief. The first step of his plan was compete; He was back in fae.
A large part of him had feared being expected somehow.
Whilst logically there would have been no reason for him to have come back to this place a third time, and less reason still to expect him not to have returned the moment he could do so if he did come back, there was still the small chance of the fae preparing something.
Kneeling down for a moment, he took a slightly crumpled and folded piece of paper from the worn leather messenger bag settled at his hip. Unfolding it carefully and smoothing it flat on the ground to examine.
He had studied the eleven year old map carefully on many occasions over the last decade. The map that had once led him to Dean’s home here in fae, would now serve to lead him back to the location of his greatest crime against his brother.
This journey would be different from either of his first two trips to fae, though he hoped it would be no less momentous in impact on his older brother’s life.
He stood. He didn’t have much time if he was to succeed in his mission. The timing was just so critical.
Once again double checking his invisibility was holding, Sam set off towards the distant dwelling that he had visited eleven years past, musing as he walked about the fateful two portal trips that had brought him to this point.
His first trip to fae had been partially by accident, although with the maturity of his thirty-four years, he could also now admit that there had been a large dose of youthful arrogance involved also.
Finding himself effectively trapped in the other world, and having heard all the common stories about what the fae did to humans that trespassed in their lands, had been probably the most terrifying experience of Sam’s life to that point. More so when he realised that he didn’t have everything he would need to try and open the portal to return home again.
It had been hours of hiding and sneaking to gather everything back up, with some of the rarer plants needing him to venture into obviously cultivated herb gardens near dwellings.
And then, after everything, the fae had somehow known and had followed him back to his and Dean’s own land. Taking Dean away in punishment for Sam’s actions, and leaving the then teenager to try and cope with not only losing his brother forever, but also having to live with the knowledge that it was his actions that had destroyed Dean’s life.
As devastating as his first visit had been, however, it couldn’t hope to compare with how disastrous his second one had ended up being.
He had arrived back after ten long, hard years, with the best of intentions.
He had prepared his arsenal and skills well, and was confident that when he left it would be with his grateful, rescued brother by his side.
Only, he had learned far too late, that apparently not all of the tales of the fae’s tortures were accurate.
Far from a tormented captive, held in some fae creature’s dungeon, Sam found that in the ten years since he was taken, his brother had moved on, had made friends and built a happy life for himself in fae with his beloved husband. A husband that Sam then killed, after misunderstanding just who the man was to Dean.
When Sam cast the spell to leave fae after his last trip, he had vowed that he would never again set foot in the land, having realised that when he had arrived the previous day, he had only really thought that his original ill-fated trip had destroyed his brother’s life. Now, he knew that his second trip had truly done so.
And he had absolutely meant to keep that vow.
That resolve, however, had lasted barely two weeks before the guilt began to gnaw at him.
Within a mere month of his return, he had already begun to try and work out what he could do to somehow fix things.
Sam had already spent almost a full half of his life travelling the roads in his efforts to prepare his failed rescue mission, having intended to finally stop and put down roots only once he had saved Dean.
Now with a change of focus, he resumed his journeying.
The smallest of rumours or mentions of obscure spells would have Sam travelling weeks to chase down any hints that he could find. He knew the things he was searching for were crazy, but they were all the ideas he could think of.
Searching for some way to undo events, or for rituals that would allow someone to travel through, or possibly reverse time. Either to somehow prevent or reverse the death of Dean’s husband, or possibly even to stop Sam’s first foray into fae from happening at all. He even spent time scouring any tome or scroll that he could get his hands on for spells to resurrect the dead.
He spent years working menial tasks as servant, or stable hand in order to get access to any library or store of arcane knowledge or documents that he could find. And whilst he wasn’t exactly proud that at least half that time, the access was not with the actual owner’s permission, he would willingly do it all again for Dean’s sake.
It had been just the vaguest of mentions, in the end, that led him to finally discover the object of his quest.
Tiny snippets, almost nonsensical, of half remembered accounts in journals of a long-abandoned spell. Snippets that when painstakingly researched and pieced together, had told an almost mythical account of a murder victim being raised from the grave.
He had spent the next couple of years working tirelessly to locate every little scrap of information on the event. Working hard to find or recreate the spell or ritual used. Finally finding full success in his quest with only a year and a half left before he would be able to cast the portal spell back to the fae realm again.
Upon learning the full details of what had once been known as the Murderer’s Repentance’ spell, Sam had found himself unsurprised at the fall into disuse and complete obscurity of such a powerful spell. Part spell, part ritual, the conditions under which it could even be cast, would have been so rarely found as to make it almost impossible to use.
Sam however, had found it perfect for his needs, and currently had all the equipment he required in his messenger bag.
He had begrudged the need to wait an extra year before carrying it out though, no matter how unavoidable it had been for the timing of the spell.
Crouching low as he drew close to the peak of the final hill before what had been Dean’s house last time, Sam cautiously continued his approach.
Though he was still fully cloaked with the invisibility spell, he had no intention of taking chances, having even taken to cover during the one point on his current journey when he had seen a fae flying across his path some distance ahead.
Slowly making his way over the top of the hill, Sam once again found himself looking at Dean’s fae home.
It was strange to see it now, with the knowledge that rather than the place his brother was held captive, it was simply the place that he lived. It looked no less unusual now to Sam’s eyes than it had eleven years ago, but knowing it was Dean’s, somehow gave it extra qualities.
Keeping low to the ground, he picked his way carefully down the hill, eyes darting about the nearby woods and the skies above the dwelling, searching for any glimpse of fae nearby.
So far it was quiet, with no one around, but he couldn’t count on things staying that way.
It would take time to set up the ritual circles and cast the spell, he needed to remain undiscovered until he was finished.
Sam didn’t know if there was anyone in the house, but so far things looked good.
A sudden thought popping into his head had Sam almost stop dead in his tracks.
What if Dean had fallen in love with someone else and got remarried?
Sam would be bringing his brother-in-law back to life in just a short while. Was he going to wreck his brother’s life even more by doing so?
‘The way things went last time, it would be just my luck.’ Sam thought sardonically, shrugging slightly to himself, though throwing up a silent prayer that Dean was still single, to any gods that might be listening.
It wasn’t as though Sam would ever know the answer anyway. He would be dead in just a short while.
Reaching the main door, the handle depressing silently beneath his hand, Sam slowly eased it open.
Peering inside he paused a moment, listening for any sound of activity. Met with silence, he edged through the opening, closing the door behind him with the barest click of the latch.
The best-case scenario would be if nobody was home. He had a few sleep potions he could use to subdue a small number of people if the need arose, having taken the antidote already, however the very act of smashing the vials would likely alert even more people’s attention to the area. The greatest chance of encountering someone would be further into the home, he decided, where it burrowed into the hill.
He eased his way quietly through the next door, continuing his search for fae.
A quiet snort of amusement, barely a puff of air, as Sam recalled his previous time in this house. His complete lack of care as he ripped doors off hinges with the use of strength potions. Spoiling for a fight and just trying to find anyone he could.
This time though, stealth was very much the key. He hadn’t taken any potions beyond the antidote for the sleep one, and was barely even armed if it came down to a fight. Although his plan was to avoid fighting at all cost. He was going to need as much of his strength as possible to succeed in his plans. Really, he would have preferred not to even have the low-level drain of the invisibility spell going for so many hours, but that was an unfortunate necessity. He could not take the chance of being seen by even a single fae. Not when he was finally so close to setting right all the wrongs that he did to Dean, and his husband.
The bedroom was very much how Sam remembered it. Not much seemed to have been altered in the room at all.
There had been another room further down the hall, that Sam had checked, which had also been set up as a bedroom. Sam wondered if that was where Dean now slept, keeping the room where his husband had been killed, almost untouched as almost a shrine. Sam rather suspected it was. Regardless of how many happy memories the two might have shared, it was unlikely that his brother would ever again want to sleep in the room his husband had been murdered in.
That might change, he supposed, once it also became the room that the man was brought back to life in.
Moving to the far side of the bed, Sam gritted his teeth and slowly started to drag the large piece of furniture across the room. He was going to need a fair amount of floor space to draw the ritual circle in. It was a pretty large one.
Standing for one last moment to listen for any sounds of nearby fae, Sam took a deep breath to calm his heart, then dropped the invisibility spell.
It was important that he was not under any forms of enchantment whilst he prepared and cast the spell, as they could interfere.
Pulling the leather strap of his bag over his head, from where it rested diagonally across his body, he knelt and searched for the ritual chalk to begin copying out the sigils he would need around the room.
The ritual circle itself was not even that complex, considering the magnitude of the spell’s effects. It would have been already well within Sam’s ability to draw before he even reached his twenties. Nor was the chant that difficult to do; simply long.
It was the conditions of the spell that had caused it to pass out of use, or a least attempted use, well over a century past.
It was a peculiarity of the spell’s needs and consequences, that had the result that almost all of the people who would be able to cast it successfully, would never be willing to do so, and that almost none of those that actually would be willing to cast it, would ever be able to.
The spell to return a person to life would not work on someone who had died a natural or accidental death. Only on someone that had been killed with full intent of their death.
Moreover, it could only be cast by the one that had taken that life in the first place. Most killers had no real desire to bring their victims back from the grave anyway, but the consequences for casting the spell were severe enough that even those that might later regret their actions would be more than hesitant. Complicating things still further, it also appeared that apparently if the caster wasn’t willingly casting the spell with full understanding of the consequences they faced, the spell would simply fail; There had seemingly been attempts at tricking killers into casting in the distant past.
Though at least a couple of the probable accounts of the successful use of the spell that Sam had unearthed, had implied having murderers’ families being held hostage against their using the spell. An unreliable tactic given some killers might not even care.
Sam though didn’t particularly care about the consequences to himself, feeling it was a small price to pay if it fixed all the wrongs that he had commited against Dean.
He couldn’t even pretend that he hadn’t intended to kill the fae those eleven years ago, his rescue plans to save Dean had practically been designed to take down as many fae as possible in the process, so the spell’s conditions of the death were more than met there.
Once Sam finished the setup of the ritual space he could begin. Once he began to chant the spell, the magics would slowly begin to drain Sam’s entire life force from him, using it to resurrect his victim.
Once Sam finished the final words of the spell, Dean’s husband would be restored to him, alive and fully healthy, and Sam would be dead.
The only real drawback to the spell, in Sam’s opinion was the constraints of time and place of the casting.
To raise the victim from the dead, the killer had to perform the spell on an anniversary of the murder, and in the exact same location as the death took place, although Sam hoped that there might be a small amount of wiggle room for location, as he wasn’t fully sure of just exactly where in the room the fae had been when he died.
Those needs meant that Sam had to return to fae for a third time in order to perform the spell. The anniversary limitation however had caused Sam an extra year of waiting after the ten-year mark had passed to return.
The young mage had been well aware that he was unable to set foot back in the fae lands for ten years after he had last left, but it had been a blow when he realised that because he had decided to stay to observe the funeral back then, that that ten-year deadline would return him to fae just one day late for the anniversary needed for the Murderer’s Repentance spell.
Double checking his handiwork with the sigils, Sam decided he was ready.
Settling the strap of his bag across his body once again, Sam picked up his notes for the chant in one hand, whilst holding a letter for Dean in his other.
It wasn’t as though he would get the chance to properly apologise to his brother for all that he had done to him, so he had prepared a letter for the older man, explaining about the spell and his hopes that his final actions would perhaps go at least some small way towards atoning for the devastation his life had caused.
He wondered if Dean might have a small funeral for him too, afterwards. Once everything was over. Perhaps he might even be willing to call him Sammy again. He hoped so. It was how he’d signed the letter even.
Taking a few deep breaths to centre himself in his magic, Sam began to read the chant.
Soft voiced, but making sure to pronounce each sound clearly, the words of the long disused language resonated gently in the silence of the room.
For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of Sam speaking; His pace steady, the cadence of the words almost musical as he chanted.
Then, the smallest glimmering of light in one of the chalk symbols on the wall before him. Glittering sparkles twinkling like appearing stars in the deepening twilight sky.
More and more springing to life all around the room, the circles in the centre of the floor starting to gleam with a white radiance.
In spite of being underground, and a complete lack of windows in the room, the faintest wisps of breeze began to stir the air.
Sam paid not the smallest bit of attention to the light show around him. Concentrating on keeping up the steady chant.
The spell was definitely working; He could feel it.
It was a strange feeling to have one’s life force drained, he was able to note with a small part of his mind, kind of uncomfortable actually, not too surprisingly.
An almost dull ache at the core of his being. A sucking sensation, with a slightly painful tugging at something. A feeling of some vital part of him being pulled on, and being drawn in a direction it wasn’t supposed to be moving in.
Almost halfway through the spell now. The ritual space was glowing as bright as full daylight, rendering the still lit candles pointless in their sconces, whilst Sam continued his chanting. His hair being blown in every direction by the winds, getting ever stronger as the spell progressed.
The faint yet almost rhythmic sounds of rapid thudding began, muffled but getting clearer as Sam continued to read the paper held before him.
So focussed was he on the words, Sam barely even noticed as the door to the room burst open behind him, hitting the wall with a crash.
What he did notice however, was the loud and angry shouts coming from the entryway to the room, though his mind was very quickly drawn away from both those and the spell he had been so intent on casting by the agonising fire suddenly feeling as though it was burning white hot through his body.
Almost against his will, his eyes were drawn downwards as he let out an instinctive cry of pain at the sensation.
Glowing faintly, with a slight spiralling along the gold length, the needle-sharp point was streaked with glistening red liquid as it protruded from Sam’s body. Whilst likely only mere moments, it felt like an age before Sam could bring his mind to realise that he was looking at several inches of sword coming out of his chest, and felt longer still before he realised, with horror, that he had stopped chanting when he was apparently impaled through his back.
The sword point was withdrawn suddenly, and Sam screamed with renewed pain as it was pulled back out of him. Stumbling forward slightly, trying to turn. to explain, Sam fell to one knee, pressing his arm over the new wound in his chest as he looked over to the bedroom doorway.
There were three fae standing just inside the room, and Sam thought there were more just beyond, if the sounds were anything to go by, although it was hard to see past the partially spread wings of two of them. The red haired fae with the delicate white wings was glaring at him with clear hatred in her eyes, whilst the closest, the sandy haired fae with the golden wings was showing a vicious, yet satisfied, and tooth filled grin. The twisted golden blade in his hand the probable reason for the look.
“What’s going on. Let me through.” Sam’s head turned to the door. That had been Dean. No, he had failed!
Almost toppling over as he did so, Sam twisted round to look at the ritual circle, the markings once again just mere chalk. There was no sign of Dean’s love returned.
“No.” He panted. “The spell didn’t have time to work.” He was only just halfway through when he got interrupted. It hadn’t drawn enough of his life force yet to even start rebuilding the fae’s form. He gasped, trying to get enough air as the fae with the sword stepped closer. From the look he was giving Sam, he imagined the man was planning on finishing the job he had begun.
“Sam? What the hell? What the hell are you doing back here?” No. He hadn’t wanted things to go this way.
“Was trying to fix things.” He wheezed, coughing. He’d ruined everything again. This time was supposed to be different. This time was supposed to restore Dean’s life. Instead, he would have destroyed it for a third time.
Rather than having a resurrected beloved by his side, when his brother read the letter, he would learn that he had essentially lost his husband all over again.
“Letter.” He said, holding it up to the golden winged warrior. Maybe it wasn’t too late. If he could just get them to see... “Please. It explains. Please read it.” Sam begged, before dissolving into coughing, specks of blood spattering on the floor as he did.
“As if any of us would be interested in reading anything that you wrote.” Sneered the fae, snatching the proffered letter and crumpling it in his hand, before tossing it to the ground behind him.
Following its flight with his eyes, Sam had just a moment to glimpse his older brother being held back by a couple of horned fae before his view was blocked by a golden wing when the fae in front of him crouched down in front of him.
“You shouldn’t have returned here Sam Winchester.” He snarled as he thrust the sword through Sam’s other lung.
Sam’s final thought as everything went dark, was that the man was so very right.