Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ In Omnia Paratus ❯ The Brothers Winchester ( Chapter 1 )

AN: Okay, so before we begin this chapter—since it's pretty much the real start of the story—there are some things that must be known.

 

PAIRINGS: Hiei / Kurama (shounen-ai), Willow / Tara (shoujo-ai), Xander / Anya, Buffy / Spike (well, sort of…), Gunn / Fred

 

WARNINGS: This story, as you may note, DOES contain gay couples! If this squickles you, then either get over it or push the back button. And don't come crying to me because you didn't bother to read this, you lazy sloth-people. Also, this story picks on Sam Winchester a lot…really don't know why, I just like it when Dean's all brotherly…I dunno why I put that in the warnings, but whatever, now you know. And I think those are the only things that need warnings, really…

 

SETTING: This story really isn't set at a certain time in any series, but here are some things to know: In Angel, Cordelia has been turned into a demon, but the Master hasn't taken her over, and Fred hasn't died yet. In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Anya and Xander are still engaged, and Buffy and Spike are still sleeping together but they're closer than they were in the show. Oh, and Dawn isn't here. She exists, but she will not be appearing in this story unless a miracle comes and I suddenly like her. In Yu Yu Hakusho nothing's really changed except that Kurama has transferred to UC Sunnydale for a year. And in Supernatural, nothing's changed either, but the stuff in Nightmare hasn't happened yet.

 

And I believe that's all I need to say! Enjoy!

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

Sacramento, California

 

“Dude, I will never forgive you for this,” Dean muttered, looking back at the black Impala that was fading out of sight as the brothers left the parking lot.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “We hid the weapons we couldn't take with us, and your beloved car will be fine. We'll only be gone a couple of days.”

 

“But we've never been apart for more than a few hours!” Dean said, sounding utterly pathetic.

 

“Man, get over it!” Sam exploded finally. “The car is an object! It doesn't care!”

 

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly and Sam felt himself flush. There really hadn't been any reason to yell at his brother, no matter how annoying he was about his car. But he had been feeling tense and jittery all day and that combined with lack of sleep made him very short-tempered and irritable.

 

Not that Dean would tolerate any apology from him. Dean just didn't function that way.

 

So in lieu of an apology, Sam volunteered to go wait in the long line for the tickets while Dean went to get coffee to satisfy his caffeine addiction. Dean didn't even try to argue—he hated lines-and Sam met up with him half an hour later with two non-stop flight tickets to Tokyo, Japan for Sam and Dean Burkle of Texas. (AN: I know, I know, all you Fred-lovers out there, but I couldn't help it!!!)

 

Dean looked at the ticket in his hand and sighed mournfully, and Sam suppressed a smile. He well remembered the last time he and his brother got on a plane—it had ended with demons and cops, like everything else they did, but the memory of seeing Dean spaz was well worth it.

 

But Dean was one of those resilient creatures who only had to do something once to get over his fear. He would never like flying, but he seemed to be keeping his cool as they headed toward the boarding gate.

 

Although, being Dean, he probably wouldn't present any other face anyway.

 

“I can't believe we're doing this.”

 

Sam sighed. “I can't, either.”

 

“Then…why are we?”

 

“Because there's trouble there.”

 

“There's always trouble, Sam, but we've never left the country before. What if Dad finds us another job or something?”

 

Sam felt his temper begin to mount again at the mention of their father and forced it down. “He'll have to either wait a couple days or deal with it himself. This is more important.” He didn't even realize that he'd raised his voice again until he stopped speaking, but in fact he had been almost shouting—again.

 

Dean reached out and caught his arm, pulling him around mid-step. “Sam, what's going on with you? I've never seen you this freaked.”

 

Am I freaked? Sam wondered in mild surprise. Is that what this is?

 

Yes.

 

He was freaked…he just didn't know why.

 

Sam sighed. “I don't know, Dean. I just…I haven't been able to calm down since I had that dream. Every second I feel like something's going to happen, and I don't know if it's going to be good or bad. And then nothing happens and the feeling gets stronger. And I just know that it has something to do with the demon I saw in my dream. I'm not sure how or why, but I know it.

 

“That's another thing. How do you know the thing was a demon? It could've been a spirit or something. I mean, you said it had a sword. Demons don't need swords to kill. You know that.”

 

Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It wasn't a spirit. I told you that last night when you asked me the same thing. It looked human before it took off that headband. And it had power…more power than anything I've ever seen or heard of. Whoever it was going for in the dream, it could easily have taken them out. We have to find it.”

 

Dean started walking again, almost as if he didn't realize he was doing it. “But what do we do when we find it? I mean, how do we kill it?”

 

“…We don't.”

 

Dean stopped walking and nearly dropped his bag, which would have been rather disastrous considering the number of weapons he and Sam planned on sneaking through security. He stared at Sam in complete and total shock, which normally would have made Sam laugh—but not today. No, today he just looked back at Dean, his face mirroring his brother's shock because he himself was completely clueless as to why he'd said such a thing. Since when did Sam Winchester say no to killing demons?

 

Dean seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Are you sure that demon didn't scramble your brains?” he asked, looking honestly worried about Sam's sanity.

 

“I'm not crazy.” And as he said it, Sam knew it was true. “We can't kill it unless we have to. It's…important to us.”

 

“What're you talking about?”

 

“I don't know.” Sam was getting truly frustrated now, but not at Dean. “It's just another feeling. When you asked how we kill it, I just…felt like if we did, it could be…bad. I can't explain any better than that. But I think…he may have answers for us.”

 

“Answers to what? Sam, this is nuts.”

 

“Don't you think I know that? I feel nuts for saying it. I don't understand it, but Dean, please, just…trust me on this, okay? When we find this thing—and we will find it—don't kill it.”

 

Dean didn't answer for a long time, and Sam could sense his turmoil. And who could blame him, really? He had spent twenty years fighting evil and now his own brother was telling him to hold off. But he finally looked at Sam, and when he saw how earnestly he was looking at him, he sighed and said, “Fine. We'll do it your way. You can…talk to the thing. I don't know what good it would do—I mean, do demons even talk without possessing people?—but you can try. But Sammy, if it hurts you—if it even tries—or if it attacks me—I'll kill it.”

 

Sam hesitated, then nodded. It was better than nothing.

 

“Okay. Now let's go get on that devil's flying thing.”

 

“Oh, and in case I forgot to say it before—it's Sam.”

 

“Shut up, geek.”

 

XXX

 

Tokyo, Japan

 

“God, that was the longest flight I've ever been on.”

 

Sam shook his head at Dean's continual complaints. The fact was, the only flight Dean had ever been on had ended forty minutes in because a demon tried to crash the plane, so there really wasn't any standard of comparison. But saying as much to Dean was pointless, because when Dean had something to complain about, he wasn't going to let it go in a hurry. But Sam did wish he would shut up.

 

“Okay, psychic wonder, where do your spidey-senses say to go now?”

 

“Motel,” Sam replied as he started to walk toward the exit of the airport without looking back at Dean.

 

“What, is this demon gonna meet us for lunch?” Dean asked irritably as he jogged to catch up, tossing glares at all the Japanese signs and symbols. It couldn't have been more obvious that he was uncomfortable being so far away from home and their father—even though technically they didn't have a home and their dad was nowhere to be found.

 

Sam bit back another sharp retort, trying to have patience with his brother. But that was getting harder and harder—now that they were actually in Japan, his “spidey-senses” were sounding the alarm more loudly than ever, and the feeling of tense expectation was worsening until he wanted to scream.

 

But there was no way to communicate this with Dean that he hadn't already tried, and so he was silently distracted as they walked toward the front of the airport. At one point, Dean left him to go rent a car, and Sam barely registered his vague promise to meet him at the front. The result was that he wandered out to the middle of the parking lot without realizing it, and was only brought back to himself by Dean's calling him. He ran back to the airport and found Dean by the doors. Before Sam could identify the look on his brother's face, it changed into the familiar annoyance. Sam scarcely noticed his scolding and only muttered a single “sorry” when Dean fell silent.

 

He was oblivious to the glance Dean tossed him as he led him toward the rental car, but if he had been paying attention, he could have been surprised by the amount of concern in his big brother's eyes.

 

XXX

 

Dean Winchester was not happy.

 

First, his brother had scared the crap out of him the night before by having another nightmare.

 

Then Sam had insisted that they had to go across the world to hunt a demon.

 

Then Sam had told him he couldn't kill the demon they were hunting, which certainly didn't make any sense.

 

And now Sam was acting decidedly weird. He was distracted and even quieter than usual, and when he thought Dean wasn't looking at him he would get this look of extreme concentration, like he was trying to grasp a concept that was eluding him.

 

Then, as Dean drove toward the nearest motel—he had gotten directions while flirting with the girl at the car rental desk—it seemed to get worse. Sam kept reaching up to rub his forehead as if he had a headache, seemingly unaware of his actions.

 

Dean felt his jaw clench, but he didn't say anything.

 

He never said anything.

 

He didn't know how.

 

XXX

 

The motel they found was pretty much like all the others they'd been to: small and cramped and dingy, but cheap—and Japanese.

 

“So what do we do?” Dean asked, tossing his bag on one of the beds.

 

Sam put his stuff down on the other bed and opened the duffel. “We have to wait until tonight.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked patiently.

 

“It was night in my dream.”

 

“Oh…and how do you know it was tonight?”

 

“I know. We'll go to the park tonight. He'll be there.”

 

“And I assume you just know what park it is?”

 

“Yes. We passed it on the way here and I felt it. I know where to go, and when. But I don't know why.” Sam sighed and reached up to rub his head again.

 

Dean glanced at him, then unzipped a pocket in his duffel, took something out, and walked over to hand it to Sam. “Here.”

 

Sam blinked in confusion at the pill bottle in his hand.

 

“It'll help with your headache.”

 

Sam looked surprised at the idea that he even had a headache, but as he opened his mouth to protest, Dean gave him a stern look and said, “Take one.” And Sam, seeming to be simply too tired to argue, swallowed a couple of them dry and turned back to unpacking.

 

“We aren't going anywhere today, then, right?” Dean asked casually.

 

“We don't have to, no,” Sam replied, yawning.

 

“Then take a nap.”

 

“What? Dean, it's like one in the afternoon.”

 

“Well, we've got a busy night, and you look like crap.”

 

“I'm fine, Dean.”

 

Dean glared. “Stop being an idiot. You haven't slept in almost two days and we have to be on the watch tonight.”

 

“I have to unpack,” Sam said, looking determined to win this disagreement.

 

Dean swiftly deprived him of that excuse. “I'll do it. I know where all your stuff goes.”

 

Sam's mouth dropped open. Dean was volunteering to do extra work. He must have been worried. Which means I must really look terrible…

 

“Fine,” Sam grumbled, shoving his bag on the floor and sitting down to pull off his shoes. “But I can't promise to sleep. I'm way too wired.”

 

Dean didn't answer. He just continued to silently unpack his clothes, and he smirked when less than five minutes later, Sam's breathing evened out and he slept.

 

XXX

 

Sam didn't wake up until nearly sunset, but his dreams were strange and sometimes mixed with nightmares of things he couldn't identify, so he was still tired when he rolled out of bed. But he didn't feel quite so tense now, and his headache was gone.

 

Dean was sitting on his bed, Sam's laptop open in front of him, staring at it with a look of intense concentration. “What're you doing?” Sam asked with a yawn.

 

“Eye candy,” Dean replied without looking up.

 

“Man, you are not looking up chicks on my computer…” Sam groaned, standing up and going to peer over Dean's shoulder. Then his eyebrows went up and he choked on a laugh. “Dean, those are cars.”

 

“Yeah, and?” He looked up to find Sam staring at him like he had way too many heads. “What? I miss my baby, okay? Jeez…”

 

“…Never mind. Turn it off.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“It's sunset. We're going to the park.”

 

XXX

 

“We're here.” Sam looked around him, and all the little details from his dream leapt out at him—the darkness, the silence, the stillness. He knew the gently rain was coming before it began and he knew exactly where the demon would emerge into the open.

 

But he didn't see any other humans, which confused him. The demon had definitely been attacking—or about to—in the dream…

 

“So we just wait?” Dean asked, nervously fingering the gun strapped to his waist.

 

“Yeah. It…it shouldn't take long,” Sam replied, hardly knowing what he was saying. The feeling of expectation was back, and it had intensified until he found it difficult to breathe past it. He was almost surprised that Dean didn't feel it at least a little—it was almost tangible, in his opinion.

 

“And…what if it doesn't turn up?”

 

“It will.”

 

“But—”

 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped suddenly, waving a hand to silence his brother, his eyes fixed firmly on the cluster of trees where he knew the demon would be. His chest felt like it was about to burst with anticipation and he knew, instinctively, that the moment he had felt coming was upon them at last.

 

Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, the shadows seemed to darken and a moment later a figure solidified against the blackness. It stood there for a moment, then began to move forward. Sam watched it, and he was aware of Dean shifting next to him. But there was still no sign of another living creature.

 

And then the thing began to move with a purpose, and Sam realized it.

 

Oh, crap…

 

“Dean.”

 

“What?”

 

“We're in trouble.”

 

XXX

 

Los Angeles, California

 

Confusion.

 

Light. Color. Noise. And fire.

 

Lots and lots of fire.

 

But no solid shapes. No faces, no location to be seen.

 

Just a feeling of overwhelming fear and horror.

 

And the knowledge that something was coming…

 

XXX

 

“Cordy? Hey, Cordy, you with us? Cordelia!”

 

“…Angel?”

 

“Yeah. You okay?”

 

“I had a vision.”

 

“Yeah. We sorta got that when you zoned out…”

 

“Gunn.”

 

“Sorry. So what was it? Where do we go?”

 

“Nowhere.”

 

“…Come again?”

 

“You heard me, Wes. We stay here. That vision was…it didn't show me anything. I just…felt afraid. That was it—just a feeling. And…and something's coming. But we can't know what and we can't do anything about it. So we don't go anywhere. We don't do anything but wait.”

 

XXX

 

Tokyo, Japan

 

Sam had known beforehand what he was going to see when the demon stepped into the light. If he hadn't, he never would have managed to keep his cool.

 

But he hadn't expected the outright contempt and malice he felt emanating from the third eye in waves—not from the demon, it seemed, but from the eye itself. It was as if the thing had a mind, a will, of its own, and was only trapped in this body against its will.

 

And it wanted to kill them.

 

But this feeling, this hatred, was not something Sam knew through his extra “senses”—it was something that could be known by anyone.

 

Dean felt it, too. Sam could tell by the sudden rigidity of his muscles, the sudden spasm of the hand wrapped around the gun, and felt the first trace of fear. Dean never lost control of his movement like that.

 

And then the sword was bared. The thing was looking at Sam and showing those awful teeth in that awful grin, and Sam expected to feel revulsion.

 

He felt nothing.

 

Because this thing wasn't after them personally. It didn't want to kill them.

 

Sam knew that as certainly and as deeply as he knew his own name, and that knowledge did come from his “spidey-senses.” They allowed him to separate the personality of the eye and the personality of the demon into two things, and allowed Sam to see what he saw.

 

But Sam also knew that it would not hesitate to do what it didn't want to do. It would not hesitate and it would not regret, because it thought that Sam and Dean were threats—not to the demon itself, but rather to something far more important, something precious, though the identity of this thing was a mystery.

 

It felt love.

 

And suddenly, to Sam, the “it” was a “he.”

 

XXX

 

Dean was freaked.

 

Really freaked.

 

He hadn't expected any of this.

 

Oh, Sam had tried to explain things to him, of course. He had explained what was going to happen, what the demon would look like, what it was going to do. And he had expected something bad, because wasn't everything they ran across bad?

 

But what Dean had expected and what he actually felt the moment he laid eyes on the demon were two entirely different things.

 

This thing hated them.

 

But not just them.

 

It hated everyone. It wanted to kill him and Sam and everyone.

 

But if that was true, then…

 

Why was Sam looking at it like that?

 

It was almost as if he…pitied it.

 

Dean recalled later that he seemed to have unlimited time to make all these observations—only a few moments passed between the time the demon appeared and the time it attacked, but it may as well have been an eternity, time moved so slowly.

 

But finally, the demon shifted. Its muscles flexed slightly and it moved almost imperceptibly into a fighting stance. It raised the sword…

 

And then it disappeared.

 

XXX

 

To be entirely honest, Sam would have expected the demon to go for him. He hadn't really thought about it, but if he had, he would have remembered that spirits and demons were attracted to him because of his visions. As it was, he was already subconsciously prepared to dodge the first attack when it came.

 

What he was not prepared for was for the demon to go for Dean.

 

He also hadn't expected Dean to just stand there and wait for the crippling blow to come. But that was exactly what he saw when he looked at his brother. Dean was staring at the spot where the demon had been standing, his mouth slack with surprise.

 

It was if time had stopped.

 

No. Not time.

 

Sam, the demon…everything else was moving at normal speed.

 

It was Dean who seemed to have stopped.

 

“DEAN!”

 

XXX

 

“Where'd it go?”

 

Dean wasn't sure whether he spoke it aloud or only thought it, but either way, Sam didn't answer. In fact, there hadn't been a single sound or movement from his brother since the demon appeared. Dean was just about to look over and make sure Sam hadn't gone and dropped dead on him when suddenly, less than a heartbeat after the demon disappeared, he heard a scream.

 

“DEAN!”

 

Dean started to turn in the direction of Sam's call.

 

The next thing he knew he was lying flat on his back, his brother lying prone on top of him, with no idea of how it happened.

 

He lay there for a moment, stunned, and then his mind caught up to the events of the last few seconds, and he realized with horror that Sam wasn't moving.

 

In a panic, he sat straight up, his arms wrapped around Sam to keep him from hitting the ground, and looked down into his brother's face.

 

To his intense relief, Sam's eyes were open. So he wasn't dead. But he looked terrible, his face bruised and his eye black and swollen, and there was a long, deep cut in his arm. But…how? There was no way he could have sustained such injuries in less than three seconds.

 

“Dean…” Sam gasped, then coughed. “Don't worry…I'm…fine…”

 

“I know that, Sammy. Takes more than a tiny little demon to do you in.”

 

“It's…Sam…you useless lump…and I won't…tell you again.”

 

Before Dean could reply to that, a shadow fell over them both, and he looked up to see the demon standing over them.

 

It didn't look as bad as Sam did, but it was sporting a cut lip and a couple of bruises, and Dean felt a surge of pride. It still had its sword out, and Dean tensed before he realized that the thing was making no attempt to raise it. It was just watching them, its expression absolutely unreadable. But the sword was bloody, and that was all it took for Dean's anger to make him see red. He growled and would have lunged for the demon if Sam hadn't still been in his lap.

 

“Dean…don't hurt him…” Sam said, his voice fading as he began to lose consciousness. “Don't hurt him. I know you…want to…but he thought…we were dangerous…it isn't…his fault. Let him…be.” Then his eyes slid closed, and he gave up trying to stay awake.

 

Dean felt another blinding moment of panic, but Sam's pulse proved to be steady, though rather weak, and he was breathing regularly, so Dean turned his attention to the demon, which was still watching impassively. It was only then that he registered Sam's use of the word him when describing the demon, which seemed just weird—demons weren't people.

 

But he had more important things to think about.

 

“Well, you heard him. I won't kill you. But if you don't beat it in about three seconds I might change my mind.”

 

“You couldn't do a think to me, human,” the demon said, and there wasn't a trace of amusement in its—his—voice—it seemed to just be a fact to him.

 

“Oh, yeah? Well my baby brother sure popped ya one.”

 

“Yes.” That was all for a moment. Then, “Bring him and come with me.”

 

Silence.

 

“What…the hell?”

 

“I said, bring him and come with me.”

 

“Should I even begin listing the reasons that's not gonna happen?”

 

No answer.

 

“Fine. First of all, you're a demon, and I make it a habit to kill demons, not go on field trips with them. Secondly, my brother has a hole in his arm and his face is turning purple, and it's your fault, so I really don't think I'm gonna trust you enough to follow you anywhere. Third, I get the feeling that following you would cause chaos to ensue and while I'm a big fan of chaos, I don't want to prolong our stay in this God-forsaken country any longer than it's gonna take for Sam to wake up. So unless you tell me that these injuries are going to kill him and only you can save him, and you prove that beyond any shadow of a doubt, I'll be leaving now.”

 

Another moment of silence before the demon spoke again. “The injuries aren't life-threatening. He'll be sore for a while and he'll have trouble using the arm for a day or two, but assuming no complications arise, he'll be fine. But you need to come with me.”

 

Dean spoke with extremely exaggerated patience. “We already covered this. Now, I still have no idea what the hell happened but I really don't care. I'm going to take my brother back to our motel and I'm going to take care of what you caused. And I don't ever want to see you again, because I honestly can't believe I'm not killing you right now.”

 

And with that, Dean stood, lifting his brother and trying not to stagger under the weight, and turned his back on the demon and walked back toward the spot where he'd left the rental car.

 

The demon made no attempt to follow him.

 

XXX

 

Two hours later, the brothers were back at the hotel. Sam was lying on his bed, still out cold, his arm bandaged and an ice pack on his eye. Dean was pacing the room, still full of pent-up energy, waiting for his brother to stir, as he had been doing for the hour and a half since he finished with Sam's injuries.

 

At around nine o'clock, he threw himself down on his own bed and picked up the remote out of boredom.

 

He never even knew there were people in the room until someone came up to the side of the bed, throwing a shadow over him. He looked up, and he just had time to register black hair, large brown eyes, and a rather unhappy expression before the stranger—who, oddly enough, seemed totally and completely human—murmured, “We're really, really sorry about this…”

 

“Speak for yourself, Detective.”

 

The guy sighed, and Dean suddenly wondered why he was just sitting here when there were at least two people in his room—one of them the demon that had hurt Sam, judging by the voice—and one of them was apologizing, which could only mean trouble.

 

Then the human said, “Fine, I'm really sorry about this…”

 

“What the h—”

 

There was a flash of movement and then agony laced through Dean's skull. The world grayed out and he slid sideways, and he would have hit the ground if a pair of arms hadn't caught him. Painfully, he turned his head—and saw the short figure bending over his brother.

 

“Don't hurt him!” Dean shouted, and the pain grew until he could hardly bear it.

 

The last thing he was aware of was the human's voice. “We won't. Like I said, I'm so sorry we had to do it this way…”

And then all the lights went out.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

AN: Tee hee hee…Dean has to deal with Hiei without killing him…this is gonna be fun…anyways, please drop a review! I wuffles all those who do!!!

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

“Cruel he looks, but calm and strong,

Like one who does, not suffers wrong.”

—Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound

 

“Even the wisest man grows tense

With some sort of violence

Before he can accomplish fate,

Know his work or choose his mate.”

--W.B. Yeats, Under Ben Bulben