Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day was bright, but boring. It wasn’t cloudless, but it certainly wasn’t stormy either—it was the right combination of sun and weak little clouds that added up to be entirely forgettable. Boring.

Sam Winchester didn’t care about the weather. He only cared that it was bright enough out that the pair of vampires he was hunting were probably asleep. He’d tracked them across Wyoming and down into Colorado, and now the two of them were holed up in a shack high in the Rocky Mountains. Sam was having Wendigo flashbacks. It wasn’t helping his concentration.

It was so close to the ridge where he and Dean had found the boys and their sister (close meaning the same state) and Sam was wishing that Dean was with him like he had been then. But there was nothing he could do about it—Dean was probably off in some other state living it up in a bar. Sam told himself that he didn’t care. It was a lie.

He crept around the back of the decrepit building that had probably been a house at one point. It was hard to tell with the roof partially collapsed. It could be a stable for all Sam knew. There weren’t any noises from inside, which Sam took as a good sign—sleepy vampires were killable vampires—but he readied his machete anyway as he slid through the open doorway.

It was surprisingly dark. Sam blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He took a few steps forward. When nothing lunged at him trying to take his face off, he decided that the vampires were asleep and started creeping along the side of the wall to look for where they were holed up.

There were a few posts holding up the sad remnants of the roof, bisecting the room in half. Along the floor in front of the posts was a dark smear. Sam’s heart fell. It looked like blood. He took a step forward to take a closer look and all of the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Sam swung around, fully expecting a vampire at his back—

There was nothing. Confused, Sam backed up—or tried to. His toes hit an invisible barrier that he had just stepped over. Looking down, Sam realized that the dark smear extended past the posts and curved around the edge of the room. And it wasn’t just a dark smear.

Written in neat, precise little lines were hundreds and hundreds of symbols. In the dark, they’d looked like one big mess, but up close they were something far worse.

Witches. Shit.

Sam wasn’t prepared for witches. He was prepared for vampires. Vampires that had apparently led him into a trap.

Sam bent down and quickly tried to smudge the letters, but his hand couldn’t get anywhere near the writing. A quick walk of the circle revealed it took up almost half of the room and was completely impenetrable.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Dean would never let him hear the end of it if he died because of a witch. Especially on a solo hunt that was supposed to be a quick in and out sort of deal that he was only on because Dean was still furious about Purgatory. Sam had just added it to the guilt pile. He had a lot to feel guilty about.

Sam stood up from examining the letters and decided that confronting whoever had made the circle might be the only way out of this mess. Pacing certainly wasn’t helping.

“Hey!”

There was no response.

Frustrated, and a bit surprised no one was currently gloating at him, Sam slammed his fist into the barrier and yelled, “Hello! Anybody gonna let me out!”

Sam’s eyes had adjusted enough by now to tell that unless the shack had a hidden secret basement, there was no one else in there with him.

He bent down to examine the letters again. Despite being in nearly perfect condition, the ink (he was calling it ink, even if it looked suspiciously brown and crusty) was old and dried out. It was in no way fresh. Maybe this was an old trap that the vampires had somehow set off? But then where were they?

Frowning, Sam backed up into the middle of the circle. He had just a second to realize that standing directly in the center of a ritual circle was probably a bad idea before there was a bright flash of light and everything went black.

Dean was in fact living it up in a bar. It wasn’t, however, in a different state. He’d followed his brother down to Colorado after realizing that being alone sucked and hanging out with Benny when they weren’t fighting for their lives sucked worse. Sammy was still in for a punch to the face, but he missed his brother. And needed to be in the same room to do the punching.

Dean checked his watch. Sam should be done by now.

He threw his money on the bar (plus tip) and sauntered over to the door. Time to see if little bro was up to a talk.

Baby was parked a little ways away from the bar, so Dean took the time to walk over. His breath created puffs in the autumn air. Colorado was pretty damn dry. The puffs stayed visible as they floated up into the dark sky. It was a new moon, so Dean could see all of the stars. He took a moment to revel in the fact that there were stars before climbing into the impala.

The drive back to the hotel where Sam was staying was short (Dean had a different hotel. Despite Dean’s ribbing about being lost in his research, Sam was definitely observant enough to notice a car as distinctive as the impala parked outside). Dean pulled up and parked, looking around for the sad old clanker Sam was driving. It wasn’t there.

Dean frowned. It was possible that Sam had just gone out to the bar, but the only one nearby was the one Dean was just at and Sam certainly wasn’t there. Something didn’t feel right.

Dean sighed. He put his head on top of the steering wheel and blew out a big breath. He was not babysitting Sammy. Sam had probably just gone off to some frilly restaurant that sold his rabbit food and that was why he wasn’t here. He definitely wasn’t being eaten while Dean fooled around wondering where he was.

Dean was already on the road driving up where he knew Sam had gone before he really had time to think about it.

If Sam was fine he was going to make a fool of himself. Never mind the stupidity of going after vampires at night.

Dean sighed again.

The paved road slipped away into gravel, and then into a bush-filled double track that made Dean cringe for his baby. If Sam was fine, he was going to kick his ass, never mind the fact Sam didn’t even know he was here.

Dean stopped a few hundred yards away from the start of the trail that led to the shack. He hopped out of the impala and popped the trunk. Machete, silver knife, demon knife, and gun. If Sam was in trouble, it was best to be prepared for everything.

He clicked a flashlight and started back up the road. A few feet from the trailhead, Sam’s car loomed out of the darkness. Dean’s heart fell. Images of his brother’s dead body flashed behind his eyelids.

Damnit, Sammy, not again.

Dean crept farther into the woods, silently slipping up the trail. If the vamps had harmed even a hair on his little brother’s head, there would be hell to pay.

Something snapped in the woods. Dean crouched down and pulled the gun out of the back of his pants, adjusting his grip on the machete with the other.

Somewhere farther off, an owl hooted. Dean waited and listened to the wind whispering through the pines. His ears strained to hear if anything was moving in the woods.

There was another snap. Dean’s hands went white knuckled on the knife and gun. He prepared to lunge—

A deer stepped out of the trees and onto the path. Dean swore.

Great. He’d lost valuable time he could have used to find Sam listening to some stupid deer.

He straightened up and began walking towards the shack. In the dark, it looked like it was part of the mountainside, roof rotting and pointed like the dead trees and boulders. Dean slipped up to the side and listened for any noise. There was nothing but the wind.

Ignoring the part of him that said this was an insanely bad idea, he slipped in the door and back up against the wall, knowing that any vampires could see way better than he could in the dark, and if they went after him he’d be in serious trouble.

Oh, fuck it. This was incredibly stupid anyway.

Dean turned the flashlight back on and swung it around the room, half expecting an entire coven of vampires to start laughing at him.

The room was empty. Confused, Dean stepped away from the wall and scanned the floor for some sign of Sam. The first thing he noticed was Sam’s flashlight. The second thing was the ritual circle that he’d just stepped into.

Dean cursed. Again.

This was all sorts of not good. The flashlight was lying there as if Sam had dropped it in some sort of struggle. The end was dented. Dean cursed again and tried to back out of the circle. He ran right into the barrier.

Not good, not good, not good.

Dean slammed a hand into the barrier, which didn’t so much as waiver. He ran a hand through his hair and backed up again. Might as well grab Sammy’s flashlight so he could beat himself over the head with it for being so dumb as to walk into a witches’ circle. At least he knew what had happened with Sammy even if he didn’t know where his little brother was.

Dean crouched down to grab the flashlight, overbalanced, and fell forward. There was a bright flash and then nothing at all.

The good news was that Sam had found the vampires. The bad news was also that Sam had found the vampires.

Sam woke up tied to a post in the same shack that he’d apparently passed out in. The ritual circle was gone. Two vampires were stalking back and forth in front of him, fangs and all.

Fucked didn’t even begin to cover it. At least there weren’t any angry angels trying to jump his bones and hell wasn’t a part of it. Probably. You never really knew with Crowley.

The female vampire bared her fangs and launched forward. “Silly little hunter, caught in his own trap. Tell us what you did!”

Sam blinked. “Umm… What?”

There was a snarl from the male vampire that sounded vaguely like a cat being stepped on. He joined the girl in Sam’s personal space. “We know you did something. Everything smells different and it’s day instead of night! Tell us or we’ll eat you!”

The girl’s voice dropped an octave as she added, “No, we’ll do that anyway. Tell us or we’ll make it slow.”

Her eyes glimmered in the light coming in from the cracks in the walls. Instead of pulling away or trying to struggle, a picture of Dean finding him flashed through Sam’s mind. Sam, dead, with two teenage wannabe vamps laughing over him. Dean would never let him hear the end of it, even if it was in heaven. Sam would never let himself hear the end of it. Going like this after everything would suck.

Nope. I refuse to die to these morons. They posted their exploits on VampLuvers.com for someone’s sake!

That had been how Sam had found them. The two, “deeply in love,” had posted about becoming “fiends of the night” and star crossed lovers on the site. Sam occasionally cross checked the postings with strange deaths just in case someone was dumb enough to actually out themselves. It had happened before.

That’s how he knew that this would be routine. The couple were clearly lacking in the intelligence department.

Apparently not, considering he was currently tied up—not that the knots were that good—and surrounded. Even if he got free, he didn’t have his machete. It was currently tucked down the back of idiot number 2’s jeans.

Maybe he’ll impale himself when he sits down and do my job for me, Sam thought. The chances weren’t that good. No one was that stupid.
Sam shifted slightly, working on the knot, and replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything. Yet.”

The girl flipped hair over one shoulder and scoffed. “Like you could do anything to us now. You’re all tied up--and a weak little human.”

Sam let the ropes slip over his fingers and smiled. The male vamp leaned forward, and Sam had just enough time to think, thanks for bringing me my machete, before there was a bright flash of light and Dean tumbled out of midair to land on the girl.

There was a moment of silence. Then Sam lunged, grabbed the machete, and spun. There was a dull thunk and the male vamp’s head hit the ground, still with a bewildered expression on his face.

The girl screamed. Dean went flying—she pushed him with both hands and he got a good few feet of altitude before slamming into the wall. He landed with a low groan.

She grabbed the metal flashlight off the ground and hurled it one-handed at Sam’s head. He ducked, and it flew over him to smash through the wall.

Sam advanced, machete in front of him. Snarling, the girl backed up, heading towards Dean. Before she could get the bright idea of using his brother as a hostage, Sam took two steps forward and neatly separated her head from her body. She hit the ground with a thunk.

Sam walked over and poked Dean with his boot. Dean let out a low groan. Sam grinned. “Nice entrance, dude. Real graceful.”

Dean’s next groan was louder and longer, and sounded a bit like “shut up Sammy,” but Sam couldn’t be sure.

Laughing, he bent down to haul his brother to his feet. “Up ‘n at ‘em, jerk.”

Dean mumbled something indecipherable and his knees gave out. Sam huffed and shifted so he could haul his brother onto his shoulder. Dean was never going to live this down. Assuming he was okay, that is—but Sam was pretty sure that it was the spell making him groggy and not the wall toss; Dean had a pretty thick skull and had hit mostly feet first.

Of course, that was assuming he could actually carry his brother out to the car. It was going to be a stretch.

Sam got Dean up onto his shoulder and stumbled a bit. Dean weighed enough that Sam was listing a bit to the left. He let out a sigh and maneuvered over to the door. Using his free hand, he nudged it open and backed through, being careful not to hit his brother’s head on the door.

And then he froze.

“Uh, Dean? I think we have a problem.”

Dean pulled his head up and let out a low groan. “Fuck our lives. Like seriously.”

Sam nodded without thinking.

All around them was snow. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem except for two things: 1) it was July, and 2) the cars were gone.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out as steam. “Well that spell definitely did something. We either traveled in time or the weather just changed and somehow took the cars with it.”

Dean didn’t reply. He was too busy mourning the loss of the impala and making plans to gank whatever fugly was responsible.

Sam bent down and let his brother slide off of his shoulder. Dean steadied himself with a grumble.

The two brothers looked at each other, ice crystals floating in the air from their breaths. There was a moment of silence as they both tried to think of a way out that didn’t involve walking 15 miles in the snow to the nearest hint of civilization.

Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. “We could try to call someone.”

“And get arrested again when they try to figure out why we’re out here? No thanks.”

“I’ve still got my fake ID. You?”

Sam dug around in his pockets. “Huh. Yep. I’m Jason Hendrix.”

Dean fished out a battered looking drivers license that said he was Jimmy Hanson of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. It was quickly followed by his phone, which he promptly opened and raised up in an attempt to get a signal.

Nada. Zilch.

Dean let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his still aching head. “Well, Sammy, it looks like we’re walking.”

Sam was officially losing it. The last time he’d been this cold was the cage, and—

Nope. Not going there. I refuse to have a panic attack in the middle of the freaking Rockies. Nope.

Dean kept sending him concerned glances. He was checking his phone for a signal every minute or so, and getting increasingly frustrated when cell coverage refused to cooperate.

The snow was so thick that they’d only made it about a mile in the hour and a half that they’d been walking. Sam’s toes were starting to feel like they were no longer attached, and Dean was no better—his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking, and the tip of his nose was a strange purple-pink color.

There was a victorious shout from Dean. “Dude! I got it!”

There was a brief moment of silence as Dean fumbled with the keys, and then a low ringing sound.

“National Park Service, how can I help you?”

Dean pressed the phone between his cheek and shoulder and stuffed freezing hands in his armpits. “Uh, this is Jason Hanson. Me and—me and my friend, we’re up the gravel road off the north side of the park by Bullsnake trailhead, and we can’t find our car. We don’t have any gear or coats, so we’re kinda freezing…”

There was an incredulous pause from the phone.

Dean continued, “If there was some way you could send a car or anything really to get us that would be f-fantastic.”

There was a tinny sort of noise out of the phone’s speakers. Dean said, “Thank you ma’am. We’re really s-sorry about this,” and hung up.

Both of them were shivering. Sam decided that focusing on Dean was probably a good way to stave off cage flashbacks and turned to look at his brother. “So, um, h-how long did she say we had to wait?”

Dean frowned. “About 20 minutes.”

Sam could already tell that this was going to be one of the longest 20 minutes of his life. “Great.”

Dean shrugged and didn’t move as Sam shuffled a little closer. And closer.

“Uh, bro?”

“Shut up Dean. I’m cold. You’re warm. I don’t want a panic attack.”

“As long as it’s not a chick flick moment.”

“Seriously, dude. Shut up.”

It was at least thirty minutes before the time the truck arrived. Sam and Dean were leaning up against a tree by that point, shivering so hard they were making the branches shake and leaning on each other just to stay upright.

The woman who got out of the (surprisingly bright orange) pickup gave them an unimpressed stare.

And a lecture, once they were safely in the car.

“...really, I don’t know what you two were thinking. Why’d you get out of your car without gear in the first place, anyway? Let alone wander off into the woods?”

Sam gave a halfhearted shrug and resisted the urge to tell her that it was the middle of July a couple of hours ago.

She frowned at him in the rear view mirror. “Don’t ever do that again. Make sure you have protective gear before even coming up to the Rockies in the winter. And if you’re going hiking, stick to designated trails and bring a GPS. Even in the winter we have trail markers.”

Sam sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

Back at the ranger station, they had to convince her that yes, we will go back for the car later, no, it’s not a problem, we’ll call a friend to pick us up, and yes, thank you, dropping us off in Estes is fine.

Once in Estes, the two of them shared a look.

“Try to rent a car?”

“Yup.”

“You have the cards?”

“One.”

“Great.”

They set off to the only rental place in town, which only had off road vehicles. Sam winced at the price as they headed into the Jeep, completely ignoring the fact the credit card was one they were never going to pay off anyway.

Dean mumbled about witches and Baby the entire way down the mountain.

Gabe sat with his head in his hands, staring at the shitty motel carpet. Cas was leaning on the other bed, and Gabe could tell without looking that his shoulders were bunched up around his ears.

He sighed. “Both vessels, huh Cassie.” It wasn’t a question.

Cas scrunched even further into the headboard of the bed and refused to meet Gabe’s eyes.

Gabriel sighed. “We’ll head to Bobby’s. Sort this out.”

Cas’ nod was more of a slouch than any communication of agreement, but Gabriel would take what he could get.

Dean dialed the number one handed and held the phone up to his ear. There was a brief ringing sound before an automated female voice told him the number he’d called was unavailable.

Dean cursed. “What the hell? Cas change his phone or something?”

Sam shifted uneasily. He had a nasty feeling about all of this but was hesitant to say it out loud. “Cas isn’t exactly Mr. Reliable when it comes to answering anyway. But…”

“What?”

“What if we’ve been gone a long time? You saw the snow.”

Dean frowned. “I hope not. Freakin’ time travel. The ranger had normal clothes though so it can’t be too long.”

Sam fiddled with the radio. “...large electrical storm around Carthage, Missouri. Some are wondering if the recent spat of missing persons, six so far, is related to the strange weather phenomenon…”

Dean jerked the steering wheel sharply to the left before swerving back to the center. “Sammy… We didn’t go forward—we went back.”

Sam swallowed. “How are we going to get back? There’s no Cas with us this time.”

Dean gripped the wheel harder. “Sam. Ellen and Jo. They’re still alive. I remember those omens. We have at least a day before the showdown, maybe two. We could save them.”

“We tried that,” Sam said. “Remember? With Mom? It didn’t do anything. Everything just ended up back how it was.”

“Sammy, we have to try.”

There wasn’t any real arguing with that. Not when Sam could still see Jo all bloody on the backs of his eyelids.

“Alright. If you’re remembering correctly, we should be at Bobby’s. Try there first?”

Dean slammed his foot to the pedal. “Right.”

Chapter Text

They had been driving for an hour when Sam spotted a sign for a diner off the interstate. Normally an hour long drive was a blip on the Winchester cross-country road trip radar, but Sam had been knocked out, tied up, and lost in the snow. On top of all that, he’d skipped dinner the previous night (was it the previous night? Time travel was weird) and he wanted food.

“Dean. Next exit.”

Dean didn’t glance over. “Gotta get to Sioux Falls before they leave. Don’t have time.”

Sam shifted in his seat and said, “Yeah, about that. How exactly are we planning to go about this? I don’t know about you, but my first reaction to seeing a look alike is not gonna be pretty. It’ll be a toss up between whether past me thinks I’m Lucifer or Zachariah playing tricks.”

“We’ll figure it out. Who says we have to be seen, anyway. Hell, we could just go to Carthage after we confirm that they’re there and stop Lucifer before anything happens.”

It’s said so plainly that Sam had to turn and stare. “Stop Lucifer how? I don’t know if you remember last time, but we have even less gear than we had then and no plan. Heck, the only thing we do have is an idea of how things might go, but that’ll change as soon as we show up.”

Dean turned to grin at him. “You’re smart, Sammy. Put all those books you like to read to good use and find a banishing sigil or something.”

A banishing sigil would work, but not for long. Unless they could make it so Lucifer couldn’t finish the ritual…

“Alright. Alright. But I’m still hungry. So next exit, please.”

Dean grumbled, but switched lanes anyway. “They better have pie, bitch.”

The diner did indeed have pie. And fortunately for Sam, chicken salad. He was too hungry to care much about the rabbit food jokes, even if Dean did ruffle his hair and ask, “Is that enough spinach, Princess?”

The waitress was pretty amused by this as well (although that might have just been because Dean was too pretty for his own good, as well as Sam’s). She grinned as she brought their drinks and Dean’s appreciative glance got an appreciative once over back. Sam was trying not to roll his eyes.

Only Dean’s tense hands stopped him—Dean might be relaxed on the outside, but the stress lines around his eyes said he was going to eat the burger as fast as possible and be back on the road.

Sam stabbed more spinach. “Dean, just five minutes. I want to get there as much as you do.”

Dean huffed, but nodded. “Five minutes. Then we’re going straight there, Sam.”

Behind Dean’s back, the waitress, who had clearly been eavesdropping, scrunched up her nose and made a face. Clearly she was disappointed that Dean was leaving already. Sam couldn’t care less.

Six massive forkfuls of salad later, and the waitress was collecting their plates. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s with the nicknames?”

Sam met Dean’s eyes but he was just as confused. “Sorry, nicknames?”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking the check under the edge of the plates. “You really religious or something?”

“Uh, no not really… we don’t really have nicknames anyway,” Sam answered, even more confused.

Her eyes went wide and she took a step back with Dean’s card. “Oh, Damn. You mean your parents really saddled you with that? I’m sorry man, that sucks. High school must have been hell.”

She looked at Sam as she said it. The confusion must have been visible on his face, because she quickly backtracked. “Not to, like, be rude or anything. Sorry I asked.”

She hurried away from the table and Sam shared a bewildered glance with Dean. “The hell, man?”

“I got nothing.”

Dean sighed. “Chicks are weird. Let’s go.”

Two men hurried out from a diner and got into a Jeep. Leaning against a car two spots down, a blonde in a black ‘save the oceans’ T-shirt let her cigarette fall out of her mouth and didn’t pick it up. She took one glance, then two, and hurriedly dug her cell phone out of the back pocket of plastered-on skinny jeans.

There was a sound of the dial tone on the other line, and then a female voice growled, “This had better be important.”

The blonde licked her lips. “Yes, boss. I found them. Both of them.”

There was silence for a second, and then, “Both? This has better be true, or I’ll take it out of your hide.”

“Yes, boss, both. They’re together. And not fighting. I just saw them leave a diner outside of Estes. They must have been here for the surge, just like we were.”

There was an angry pause on the line. “That can’t be right. Something else is going on. Follow them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And I’m sending someone to come meet you. I want to know what this is about.”

“Yes, boss.” The blonde opened the door, snagged the keys out of the cup holder, and started the engine. She’d have to do this the old fashioned way. Anything else would likely be noticed.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You’d better.”

Once in the car, Sam had to prevent himself from checking the GPS on his phone every five seconds. It had been his idea to stop, but now that they had, visions of Jo and Ellen dying in horrible ways just before they arrived were playing out on the inside of his eyelids.

“Dude, cut it out.” Dean snatched Sam’s phone out of his hands and shoved it on the dashboard. “You’re making me anxious with all your bitchy fiddling.”

Sam sighed. “Sorry man, it’s just—look, can you go any faster?”

Dean took his eyes off the road long enough to give Sam an incredulous look. “You’re the one who wanted to stop, Princess.”

“Yeah, I know. I just have a bad feeling. A new bad feeling,” Sam mumbled, well aware of how well that might go over.

Sure enough, Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. But we’ll get there in time. If I remember correctly, we don’t head out until tomorrow anyway and we’ll be there in eight hours.”

There was silence for a while, before Sam leaned forward to grab his phone again. “Just let me check—”

Dean smacked his hand away, and they devolved into a mini wrestling match, hampered by the fact that Dean had to keep a hand on the wheel and look at the road.

“Aw, c’mon dude, I just wanna see arrival time—”

Sam’s phone leapt up off the dashboard and slapped into his hand.