Chapter Text
Sam Winchester is thirty-three years old.
Or maybe two hundred and thirty-three years old.
He doesn’t think it matters much. He feels old as shit regardless.
Too old to be dealing with British Woman of Letters who think they’re entitled to be torturing him for information.
Great, really fucking great you can defend your country which last he checked was the size of what? Oregon? Try doing fifty of them and then come back and demand information, maybe then he’ll be willing to talk.
God, he’s tired. Old and tired. Why couldn’t they just retire instead of Dean having to go blow himself up in the name of saving the planet? Being tortured gives you a lot of time to think about all the ways you and your brother could have ended the year that didn’t involve cattle prods and dying.
Mostly he misses Dean.
The rest of the time is spent giving a giant fuck you to Miss Letters, her lovely assistant, and every single one of their questions.
He wishes it would irritate them more, praying to anything that will listen that one of them will get mad and hit a little too hard, aim a little too high, stab a little too deep…
He really misses Dean.
…
Sam Winchester is fifteen years old.
He also has a geometry test he really has to study for in the morning but that’s been put on hold for the moment.
A werewolf hunt will do that.
“Sam! Keep up, kid! We have another five miles and I don’t need your ass pulling us back!” Dad calls from where he’s leading their small party through the forest. The moon is full and bright tonight so Sam can easily see the stern look his father shoots his way before turning back to the map a park ranger had drawn for them.
Yeah, his geometry test isn’t exactly the forethought in anyone’s mind.
“C’mon Sammy,” A stray hand brushes through his hair as Dean walks past, fingers gently massaging over his scalp before twisting the thick locks in an annoying tug. “Werewolf ain't gonna gank itself.”
‘Doesn’t mean we have to be the ones to,’ Sam thinks but manages to hold his tongue. Dean was in a good mood and as much as Sam was annoyed at having to be here he wasn’t going to put a dampener on it. Besides, he knew the only reason he was being dragged along on the hunt was because their Dad thought he was slacking on his training. He wasn’t trying to, he did everything like he was supposed to even if he whined and talked shit through most of it- it was just difficult to live up the standard when it was set by your near perfect big brother.
Sam didn’t fault Dean for it, his brother put his heart and soul to hunting and training and being an early bloomer of height and muscle he just seemed made for the tests their dad put them through. Sam… Sam wasn’t.
He’s short and skinny and the only thing that came naturally to him was running which while part of their fitness regime wasn’t what their Dad liked to focus on.
No, it was knot tying, target practice, and of course sparring.
Lots and lots of sparring.
Which in his case meant lots and lots of Dean sticking Sam’s head into his armpit and pinning him into the dirt.
So maybe he isn't as eager as Dean is, that didn’t mean he doesn't do everything their father asked of them. He shouldn’t be punished with a pointless werewolf hunt just because he can’t pin his brother who has almost a hundred pounds on him.
“Sammy quit thinking so loud.” Dean murmurs with a smile, breaking him out of his thoughts as he brushed their shoulders together, eyes soft like they only ever were for him.
“It’s Sam,” He grumbles and turns his focus back to the hunt, letting his shoulder linger slightly against Dean’s before pulling away.
Dad and Bobby were farther ahead, looking like they were arguing about something which was nothing new. The two had been arguing for the past month since they pulled into Sioux Falls and crashed at Bobby’s place. “I’m tellin you, we corner this thing it’s gonna be on us before we can reload- best case is to sneak up on it.” Bobby voices gruffly, tapping a finger at something on the map.
“No way Singer, this ain’t my first werewolf so stop acting like you’re senior on this. We corner it, we shoot it, end of story. We have the advantage of numbers so why the hell shouldn’t we use that?”
Sam and Dean both roll their eyes and share a look, knowing the men would likely be arguing about this until the literally ran straight into the wolf.
“You doing good?” Dean asks, nodding to Sam’s pockets. “How many silver bullets do you have? Remember, shoot straight for the heart, no shit anywhere else - and stay behind me.“ He looks at Sam with a raised eyebrow, his tone leaving no room for arguments.
Sam knew Dean was fine with him coming on hunts as long as their Dad followed one rule; Dean was always with him. His brother was usually quick to fall in line under their father but Sam inspires the exception. The few occasions where John tried to take him on hunts when Dean’s been gone had been met with the full force of an angry and protective big brother that not even John Winchester wanted to mess with. Sam is equal parts pleased and exasperated on the matter, it mostly depends on what exactly Dean is trying to protect him from.
Dean insisting Sam isn’t ready to hunt zombies and the two get to stay home and watch movies? Pleased.
Dean deciding Sam can’t walk home alone from school because there’s a vampire on the run in town? Exasperated.
“I know, Dean.” Sam sighs. “I know, silver bullet to the heart and stay close, I’m not an idiot.”
“Never said you were, Kiddo. Doesn’t hurts to make sure we have our bases covered.” Dean says smoothly, adjusting the hold on his rifle.
Sam shakes his head, turning back to the path as they continued their trek through the forest. Everyone thinks he can’t handle himself, that he was just good for research and that’s all. Maybe he’ll show them on this hunt, take point and kill the werewolf before anyone else could move.
Yeah okay, not likely but still he could imagine the look on his Dad’s and Dean’s face…
They continued, the occasional streak of blood on the grass letting them know they were heading in the right direction as they moved deeper into the forest.
“You’re gonna regret it Winchester, an ambushed approach is the only way this is going to work” Bobby growls after they had circled the rocky area of a mountain outcrop for the fourth time, both of the older hunters determined that this was where the den must be.
“Cornered! Cornered is going to ensure we have the upper hand!” John hisses, voice at whisper level but still managing to carry just as much bite as a full yell. Sam is content to watch the two of them, Bobby being one of the only people that could wind up his father and Sam finds it amusing to watch the two grisly hunters go at it like school girls.
“Hey, Sammy look at this.”
He turns and took the two steps closer to Dean he needed to see what his brother was looking at, moving his flashlight to point at the ground. “What?”
Dean gestures to an imprint in the dirt, Sam squinting to try and see if there was anything interesting there but found nothing. “Um, what about it?”
“Footprint, Sam. We need to work on your tracking.”
Sam rolls his eyes, “I know it’s a footprint, there’s footprints everywhere Dean. We’re in a national park.”
Dean ignores him and squats down, motioning for Sam to keep the flashlight pointed at the ground. “Yeah but this is fresh… and by where we think a werewolf is lurking around.” He frowns in concern, quickly standing up and pulling Sam over to where their Dad and Bobby were still arguing.
“Guys? I think we might have a problem.”
“Yeah? Is it Singer’s shit plan of ambushing a werewolf?”
“No sir, I’m pretty sure we have fresh human tracks around the den. Looks like a woman’s so it’s none of ours and it can’t be more than an hour.”
That quickly shuts the two men up, the possibility of the hunt also being a rescue mission adding an urgency to their plan now that lives could be at stake.
“Okay, we need to find the trail again, we can’t just wait around here for the thing to show up if it’s hunting whoever was passing through.” John starts, crossing his arms as he looked at Bobby. “You’re the the best tracker we got.”
Bobby nods and circles the rocks once more before picking up what seemed to be something large moving through foliage and gestured for them to follow and they quickly fall in line. Dean pressing firmly against Sam’s side with his hand repeatedly twitching to the left, Sam knowing he was resisting wrapping it around his shoulders as he needed both hands to steady the rifle for a clean shot.
He barely has time to laugh at his brother’s mother henning when Bobby lets out a shout of surprise, a ring of electric blue writing on the ground circling the rock formation bursting into view before disappearing once again when he stepped back.
“What in the name of-” John gaps before moving forward to where Bobby had been, the writing appearing once more before disappearing when as he yanks his hand back.
“It’s… It’s a shield of some kind.” Bobby starts, staring at where the writing had been. “Won't let us out.”
“A shield?” Dean slowly lowered his rifle and let go of where he had Sam press against his chest, both arms wrapped in front of him so he could aim his gun properly.
“No idea what that language is but the general principal seems to be like a devil’s trap.” Bobby says slowly, taking a moment to examine the grass where the writing was appearing.
“Devils trap? That’s the thing you catch demons in right?” Dean asks curiously, John giving a nod of confirmation. “That’s right. So you’re saying this is some kind of human trap, Singer?” He pauses. “… Thinking demons put this trap down?”
Sam knows from Dean that demons are extremely rare and besides the one that killed their mother their father had only ever come across one other and it had gotten away before he’d been able to do anything. The things were the darkest kind of evil, very powerful, and to be stayed far away from if you weren’t equipped to handle it. He doesn’t like the thought of one deciding to trap them in the middle of the forest on the night of a full moon.
“Shit, Dean.” Sam whispers to his brother. “We don’t have anything- holy water or bibles and I don’t know any exorcisms!”
“Hey- it’s going to be okay. We’ll be fine, we don’t even know it’s demons.” Dean murmurs, rubbing his back gently as he listens to Bobby and John talk.
“Let's not freak out over nothing,” Bobby frowns, looking over at Sam and then John. “Just said it looked like it worked like a demon trap. This could be from anything.”
“Very true, Mr. Singer.”
They turn in shock, all four men quickly raising their guns to point at the young woman in an expensive-looking pantsuit that is standing a few feet in front of them in the circle.
“I can assure you all that it is indeed not demons you need to worry about.” She smiles reassuringly, perfect white teeth glinting in the moonlight. “At least for the moment.”
“Neither is a werewolf, as all four of you fell for the ruse hook line and sinker.” She laughs airily, not bothered in the slightest that she was the only one doing so. She takes a step closer and immediately Dean tugs Sam firmly behind him, the teen not arguing as he was just as freaked out by the creepy woman. Who the hell knows if she was telling the truth? She totally could be a demon and Sam wasn’t about to go toe to toe with her.
“So sorry, I seem to have you all on edge.” She gestures casually to their guns. “Let me make this simple. I’m Amanda and you have something I want.” She crouches down slightly so she was at eye level with Sam who was stubbornly trying to see from behind Dean’s back. “You are much less impressive than I ever imagined.”
Sam scowls, forgetting his fear as it’s replaced with irritation- he’s very impressive thank you! Just because he’s currently hiding behind his big brother’s hulking frame did not deduct any points from his impressiveness scale.
“The song and dance is very exciting but why don’t you get to the explanation- or better yet let us out.” Dad growls, nodding behind them to the invisible shield. “And we sure as hell ain’t gonna give you anything but if you let us go we might not shoot you.”
Amanda lets out another laugh and rises to her feet. “You John Winchester are exactly as I thought.” She smiles pleasantly. “And no I won’t be letting you go just yet, I still need what I came for. Rest assured though I will pay you handsomely for it.”
She folds her hands business like and smiles at them in what is obviously meant to placate but only makes Dean tighten his hold on Sam and John and Bobby steady their weapons.
“I have one hundred thousand dollars in cash I am willing to give you right now.” She says seriously, tone taking on that of a business quality and a sense of detachment. Sam wonders if she got all that money from trapping people in blue circles and stealing from them. He grins slightly and makes a note to hash out with Dean the finer details of demonic highway robbery.
“All I ask in exchange is Sam Winchester.”
What.
Bobby and John look like that was the last thing they ever expected to come out of this woman’s mouth, staring at her like she has three heads while Dean snarls and holds Sam tighter.
He’s pretty sure Dean thinks everyone is out to take Sam from him though so this is probably not surprising to his paranoid big brother.
“One hundred thousand dollars. In cash. I do believe that’s a fair bargain.” She repeats, keeping her voice steady which annoys Sam even more. He’s not cattle, this isn’t an auction. For apparently dabbling in human trafficking she seems really calm about this entire ordeal and Sam decides that he hopes she is a demon because a human doing this disgusts him even more.
“What do you want from me? That’s a lot of money for some random kid.” Sam voices, sticking his head out from behind Dean despite his brother’s best efforts to push him back.
“Yes, but you are no ‘random kid’, Sam.” Amanda smiles. “We need you for something very important.”
Oh god, they’re going to kill him. She’s a cannibal and they like teenage boy flesh and Sam is going to be made into a soup because what the hell else could this creep think he was important for?
“He’s fifteen,” Dad says roughly, drawing Amanda’s eyes away from Sam. “He’s fifteen, inexperienced, and clumsy. What exactly could you be using him for?”
He’s not really mad, John didn’t say anything Sam didn’t already know himself but it’s never fun to hear your father who doubles as your trainer call you clumsy.
There’s something in the way he asks that makes Sam’s skin crawl though, the way he questions what they’ll be using him for like he already has an idea. Like he scared.
Whatever was in his tone quickly passes though and Sam’s left looking at the cold glare of his father as he tried to figure out the woman’s game. Whatever, he was probably seeing things. Dad being scared? John Winchester? They were more likely to quit hunting and settle down in the suburbs than his Dad be scared of some weirdo chick from the forest so he pushed it out of his mind. He must have been seeing things.
“I know this is a lot to take in and I promise I will answer all your questions but first I need you to come with me.” Amanda turns to the side and gestures toward the rocky formation.
Apparently, she also sensed that none of them were about to follow her.
“You really don’t have much of a choice. You come with me and we negotiate or you rot in this circle.” She adds before walking toward the rocks.
Damn it.
Dad sighs and leads the group forward, Dean looking like he wants to argue but seems to realize rotting in the forest isn’t exactly a better option. He tightens his arm that’s practically glued to Sam’s shoulders and nudges him forward, eyes narrowed as he scans for any possible trick that could try and take his brother.
They follow Amanda deeper into the rocks and turn a blind corner that drops down into what seems to be an old mine shaft.
A mine shaft.
Seriously? Does Amanda have a horror movie fetish?
Sam wants to laugh but the more he thinks about it the more his Amanda being a cannibal theory makes sense and that’s about the most sobering thought he’s had all day.
Mine shaft: 1 Sam: 0
It’s a long climb down.
Dad and Bobby are being unnaturally quiet as they walk, everyone very aware they have no idea what they’re walking into and even less prepared to handle it.
Dean’s holding Sam so tight he knows that the only way someone’s taking him away is if they slice his arm off.
It’s comforting until he remembers the growing likelihood of cannibalism being in the mix.
Finally, the tunnel they’ve been following opens up into a large room, mine carts and rails rusting along the side walls and the thick smell of wet rock and dirt in the air. It’s nice for a few seconds, the sense of claustrophobia from the cramped tunnels disappearing and there’s a slight draft of fresh air coming from one of the other shoots. Then it ends, everyone quickly noticing the figures standing against the far end of the wall and things seem to get more complicated.
“Well then, let's begin.” Amanda smiles, crossing her arms primly in front of her. “I know you think I’m being unreasonable, mysterious, or any other description you’d like to tack on-“
“A bitch.” Dean offers.
“-whatever it may be I assure you it’s simply to keep the utmost of privacy for my clients, we could not speak in the open air. You see I’m legal adviser to some important people who are in desperate need of help and you are the only ones who can provide it. Does that not appeal to you? You’re hunters, think of this like any other job.”
Bobby let out a humorless laugh, “You’re acting like you rich bastards are helpless- whatever the hell that circle was outside was incredibly powerful. If you can make something like that you ain’t in need of our help- not that we’d be givin it anyway.” He narrows his eyes slightly, looking at the shadowed figures behind Amanda. “I’m thinking one of you might be a witch.”
“I assure you, no witches among us.” Amanda smiles, “But don’t take my word for it, let me make some introductions.” She turns so they could see the three people behind her, still shadowy and look incredibly uncomfortable with the arrangement.
“Mr. and Mrs. Astor.” She gestures to the man and woman in their late sixties, standing to the side of what looked like a burlap bag in a chair. God- was the bag for him? Were they going to use it to drag him out of here? Sam curls closer into Dean’s side.
“And their assistant Bames.” The large man next to the Astor’s nods in confirmation, Sam guessing he was more bodyguard than assistant by the all-black dress code and fists the size of melons but hey, maybe he shouldn’t be stereotypical.
The giant’s fists twitched and Sam swallowed dryly, wondering if they were going to be used on him and decided he was going to stereotype all he wanted if this dude was going to be hitting him.
What the hell did these people want from him? A punching bag for their butler? Because for all the secrecy there sure didn’t seem to be a point to any of this.
“This is real great and all but why don’t you get to the fucking point and skip the introductions?” John interrupts with a snarl. “Because this doesn’t tell us anything and I’d like to get to the part where you say what the hell you want with my boy and I tell you to go to hell.”
John Winchester to the rescue.
“Right, right,” Amanda says soothingly. “Let me remind you this is all on good terms. We’ve left you your weapons as a sign of good faith though you should know if you hurt any of us you will not be getting through the shield.” She let that sink in before continuing. “I will be frank with you, the Astor’s daughter Cynthia dabbled in the darker laws of supernatural before her passing. She sold her soul to a demon.”
Sam and Dean share a look, their knowledge of demons limited and neither had ever heard of soul bargaining before besides in old myths. Sam didn’t think it was actually possible.
One look at John and Bobby’s dark knowing frowns confirms it though, the older hunters apparently well read on it as if either had ever come across one he was pretty sure that would have been a frequently told dinner story.
“Ain’t nothing we can do for her, can’t break a demon’s pact.” Bobby says and he sounds almost apologetic making Sam wonder what exactly happens when the devil comes for your soul if Bobby seems to feel bad for these people.
“No, no, that was years ago. Long since died. Sold her soul when she was fifteen.” Amanda waves her hand dismissively. “No, she’s done her time and came back as a demon, we’ve just barely been able to track her down.”
“Wait- hold on. You’re saying that their daughter went to hell, turned into a demon, and they found her again?” John asks incredulously, “Bull. Shit. And what this has to do with Sam is even more BS.”
Amanda rolls her eyes impatiently. “You don’t have to take my word for it, we have her here.”
She gestured to Bames who picked up the chair with the burlap bag and suddenly things were starting to click into place, Sam’s eyes widening as he realized that burlap bag was shaped an awful lot like a person and seemed to be twitching as it was carried into the middle of the room.
“Sam,” Amanda smiles as she addresses him once more, Dean tugging him protectively into his chest. “Meet Cynthia.”
She undoes several chains that are locked firmly around the bag, too small to have been seen in the shadows and Sam wonders how the hell he could have missed that there was a person inside there. He reaches down to grip tightly to Dean’s wrist, having no idea what to expect when he sees a demon for the first time.
The chains drop to the floor loudly, startling everyone with how thick the tension in the room is before quickly the bag is pulled off and a young girl who can’t be more the twelve is blinking slowly as her eyes adjust to the light.
Sam feels like laughing and calling the police, this is a mistake, this girl is the farthest thing from a demon and she looks like she’s about to cry – holy shit they have a twelve-year-old chained up to a wooden chair what the hell is wrong with these people.
“Help!” She cries tearfully, straining against the chains with as much force as she can muster, a weak sob falling from her lips.
“This is sick,” John growls, though Bobby seems more hesitant, calculating eyes looking over the girl and Sam wonders what the hell has gotten into him to think for one second that this was okay.
“You people are fucking psycho- is this what you’re going to do to Sam? Chain him up and trick people into thinking he’s a demon?” Dean snarls at Amanda.
“Haven’t come across many demons have you boys?” She asks casually as if they weren’t all accusing her of kidnapping and child abuse and being straight up insane while a child sobs next to her.
Amanda doesn’t wait for an answer as she pulls out a water bottle from her purse and promptly splashes the girl with it.
The resulting scream echoes throughout the room, sounding like a wounded animal rather than a human child.
“You fucking cunt!” The girl hisses, eyes black as she glares at Amanda, steam still hissing off her burning face.
Okay.
Maybe not crazy then.
“Holy shit,” Dean murmurs into Sam’s hair, never taking his eyes of the girl who was now thrashing in the chains with a lot more strength then she should have, the chair nearly falling over.
“So. Like I said, Cynthia.” She gestures to the girl. “Fully demonic but we’ve locked her into the body with a little magic help.”
“So you have a demon. What exactly do you want Sam to do with it? He doesn’t know the first thing about exorcizing one.” Dad asks, his obvious contempt for the demon not well hidden.
“Good, because they don’t want an exorcism. They’re looking to cure their daughter.”
“Cure?” Dad laughs, “Cure what? She’s not sick, this isn’t the flu! She’s a demon. No amount of money is going to save your daughter!” He calls back to the parents, completely fed up with whatever this was.
“Actually, we can.” Amanda interrupts, moving in front of Dad and Bobby.
“We can? Oh- hear that Winchester? We can cure demons! Wonder why no one brought that up before, sure might have helped things.” Bobby snarks.
“It’s privy knowledge, only a handful of people have ever heard of such things and it wasn’t hunters.” She says coolly. “We know of only four people who have learned the entirety of the process, the actual instructions being lost to time.”
“Lost to time? Then why does it fucking matter!” Dean growls, and Sam can hear how exhausted and done he is with everything.
“And who exactly is giving you this information? It sounds like a load of horse shit.” Dad adds.
Amanda rubs her nose, obviously equally as frustrated as they were feeling and Sam wished she would just get on with it then and help everyone out.
“1958, is the year Father Max Thompson successfully developed a process of curing demons and finally found success… or at least until he was killed and the demon he’d cured subsequently died as well.”
“Doesn’t sound like much a cure then,” Dean says pointedly. “Why the hell are you trying to use something like that.”
“We aren’t,” Amanda explains. “From two officially noted attempts, only one stands successful. While Father Thompson’s helped to pave the way it wasn’t the finalized version of the cure.”
“Great, so what? You’re going to use Sam as bait to try and lure some scientist out and cure your demon?” Dean asks, hands firmly across Sam’s chest that let Amanda clearly see that wasn’t happening.
“No. That’s our problem. The only true successful demon cure wasn’t performed until 2014.”
They stare at Amanda.
“Lady, you are making absolutely no sense- how the fuck do you know what’s going on in 2014 and who cured the demon?” Dean asks, Sam proud of him for resisting the twitch he felt to grab his gun.
“Doesn’t matter how we got the information, we know it and it’s been confirmed. But Sam, this is where you come in.” She turns and moved closer, stopping when Dean looked ready to sock her across the jaw if she took another step.
“We need you Sam, we need your future self to help us because Sam Winchester is the only known person to have successfully cured a demon.”