Part 3
Dean had been sneaking off to the pond since he was little. The first time he had taken the rowboat that Jim kept on shore young Dean pushed himself to the middle of the pond and just lay there for awhile. The water seemed to whisper to him in a soothing female tone. It instilled in him a calmness that infused him with courage. He believed it was his mother who had found a way to her son. When Dean returned to shore Jim was waiting for him. He thought surely he was in trouble and facing dire punishment.
The Pastor had placed a hand on his shoulder. "The water teaches us that life is forever changing." He had smiled at Dean, probably realizing his comment was a bit too lofty for an adolescent. "My soul guided me to live near the water because it brings calmness. It is a safe place for you, Dean." And with that comment Jim had gone to bed.
There had been no repercussions and Dean had taken the Pastor's words as encouragement. He often sneaked out of the farmhouse and took solace at the pond. The last time had been over two years ago.
Now he lay in the boat with his eyes closed; the wooden boards supported his frame. He waited, willing the mystical murmurings to come to him.
'It is time for a new understanding.'
He heard the words in his mind. They were not the tranquil words he was accustomed to.
'Another form, another way. Our reality is forever changing, never to become what it once was. Open your eyes and behold.'
He did as he was asked, sensing no malice. A feeling of trust enveloped him and a wave of exhilaration rushed through his body. He felt alive, no longer downtrodden.
She was standing on the water, soft circular ripples echoed from her bare feet. She wore a gossamer gown with a hood that veiled her face, brushing the tip of her nose. Long, wavy, dark hair fell to her waist. On each of her wrists were multiple strands of pearls with one string on each wrist linking to a silver ring she wore on the third finger of each hand. Her lips did not move, but he could hear the words. "I am Vivien, and Nimue, and here La Dame Du Lac."
Dean was startled and his first reaction was to make a flippant remark or try to shoot her. However, he was filled with elation, thoughts kept flooding his mind. He knew her. She had always been there.
"You're The Lady of the Lake," Dean said with awe at a fairytale coming to life. As he had told Sam on many occasions, seeing was believing. "Jim told us stories."
She had a fragile appearance but it did not hide the aura of a powerful force. She didn't smile, her lips remained relaxed. Where encounters with the demon were dramatic, this was more of a serene assertiveness.
"He told you about Lancelot who came to me as a babe." Her voice was soft, even toned in his mind. "I fostered him until he was a great warrior. I created a ring for him to protect him from all magic." She stretched out her hands. The twin silver bands sparkled. "Then there was Arthur, beloved King. For him Excalibur, a mighty sword until the Battle of Camlann. I provided passage to Avalon."
"Yeah, that's what Jim said. But there was a lot more drama when he told the story." Jim used different voices, add in battles and exciting swordfights. "Did he know about you, ah, being here?"
"The Guardian knew. He always knows."
Dean was realizing Jim had secrets. He knew the other hunters respected the pastor, even feared him and it seemed to be connected to the mysticism of his position. "Why are you here? Why now?"
"You are chosen."
"That's my brother." Dean leaned forward. Perhaps Jim had sent her to help them. "Can you help us against the demon?"
"No, the demons are no concern of mine, only the chosen is my interest." The Lady had not moved, the ripples under her feet still echoed outward, making their way towards the shore. "The chosen are not chosen for their own sake, but the sake of the unchosen."
"The unchosen?" His stomach tightened. He had been chosen to live and the people who made that choice were suffering. He didn’t like people making choices on his behalf. There were repercussions to his soul. "My father died for me and now my mother's being punished." He looked towards the house.
"If we do not forgive then we will not be forgiven."
"Forgive them?" Dean stretched for the oars. "I need to be. . ." And he understood. He flexed his palms in and out. He needed to forgive his father for removing Dean's decisions.
"This is your path. You lose your life and you will save it." With a flick of her hand the wooden row boat moved in a circle on the water "Lose it by submitting to death - death of ambitions, wishes and dreams. Keep back nothing."
"I did that a long time ago." Dean nodded, hoping The Lady would continue to advise him and guide him. He was honored she was there because sometimes he believed all his wrongdoings would corrupt him. But here was proof he had followed the right path and there was no blackness in his heart. He could assume his role as Sam's protector. And succeed.
"Look for only yourself and you will find hatred, loneliness, despair and ruin. There is more for you. There is this." She outstretched her hands, palms up and Dean watched as a silver hued stream of water, jumped back and forth between each hand. "And more."
Dean was puzzled, not comprehending The Lady of The Lake. He gave the ethereal woman a twisted grin. "So, are you going to give me Excalibur?" That would be a weapon which would defeat the yellow-eyed demon.
"The time of Excalibur has passed."
"Will I see you again?" Somehow Dean felt their conversation was ending and he wanted to be cocooned for awhile longer.
"Soon, there is a destiny," she replied. Her gown shimmered as if covered with dew, and her skin glowed pale like moonlight. And then there was just a mist that circled him before drifting away and finally dissipating.
Dean didn’t know how long their conversation had lasted. There had just been silence between the two and now he could hear the evening sounds of the pond. He sighed. "Odd," he said.
This was not an experience to be shared. He picked up the paddles and began rowing back to shore, feeling better about his situation with his father. Dean hopped out of the boat and dragged it to the protective tree it was lashed to when not in use.
He heard someone clear their throat. Turning, he saw John Winchester walking out of the shadows. The limited glow of evening wrapped him in both the light and the dark.
"Who were you talking to, Dean?" John asked, having heard his son's voice carrying over the pond, but unable to make out any words.
Dean looked out to the calm waters. "You didn’t see her?"
"See who?"
"No one, myself, just. . ." This truly was his secret, and maybe Jim's too. "How did you know I was here?"
John grinned, his teeth flashing. "Saw you come out here one time when you were a kid. Was going to drag your ass back in, but Jim stopped me. Said you were safe and to leave you be."
Dean bit his lip. Jim had always treated Dean well, making him feel special. This connection to The Lady of the Lake was proof Dean was worthy of his family as their defender and protector. He wished he could thank Jim for so much. He looked at his father and at the same time both men said the words of absolution.
"I'm sorry."
Their laughter echoed into the night air.
"Kiddo, I should have never. . .with your brother." John placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You can save him. You have a chance."
"I know, Dad. I know that now. I forgive you." He gave his father a twisted smile. "Took it out on the trunk of the Impala, Caleb, Sammy. . .Sammy most of all."
John's hand remained on Dean's shoulder. He gave it a squeeze when he registered his son’s last comment. "You two bump a little more than just heads?"
"The occasional right hook is good for a man. He deserved it." Dean recalled hitting Sam after his comment about Dean looking for John's replacement. Dean was in so much pain it was easier to lash out at someone who wasn't going to leave him at that moment. He had regretted it, and tried to make it up to his brother in a thousand small ways.
"I'm sure he did." John removed his hand. He took a step forward instigating a walk around the farm. "You've kept everything together." It was Dean who was a steady force; his flamboyancy with words hid his practical nature.
Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket. "Sure, in an ‘I have no idea what I'm doing’ kinda way."
John crossed his arms against the cool evening air. "Could have done worse. You're both still alive."
"About that. . ." Dean stopped their walk, and faced his father.
"Dean, I'm your father." John shook his head. "No parent wants their child to die before they do. It's wrong."
"Dad, not that way," Dean said in a low voice. He felt like his legs would no longer hold him. He crouched down. "My number was up. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? And then have to live with it."
John kneeled down next to his son. "You were dying in that hospital . . . I had to do something, and I did, and you're alive."
"But I wasn't." Dean's throat constricted with emotion. "Everyday, up until you came back, I died a little more. Wanted to get closer to hell, closer to you. . ."
John gave his son a watery smile. "It would have been hell if you hadn’t lived."
Dean shook his head. "I got offered a deal to bring you back and I almost took it. Don't know why I didn’t. . .just kept thinking that if I make this deal then somehow it'll turn on Sammy or you. I couldn’t take that risk. Maybe I should have-"
"No, listen to me. I didn't do right by you and I knew your mother was disappointed in me. I was looking for a way to make it all right. To do what parents, a father, a good father should do. I tried to wrap everything I should have done everyday for twenty years in one single act." He stood up, and offered his hand to his son to help him stand.
Dean accepted the hand and allowed his father to bring him to his feet. "So it was all a ploy to win father of the century. Prize is yours, hands down."
"Prize is mine." John looked at his son. He should have told his sons everyday they were important to him, a priority. "We still have time to make everything right. Bring your mom peace and me too. . ."
Dean nodded as John
placed a hand on the back of his neck. They walked back to the
farmhouse with the feeling there had been a rebirth, a renewal.
Together, Dean, Sam and John could fix everything.