Leading in the Darkness
By Tidia, September 2007
Rating: Let's say teen
Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Supernatural or its characters.
Notes: This is not Brotherhood related, and is set somewhere in Season
2. I wrote this with the idea that the present day part is Dean's point
of view and the past is Sam's point of view. So, it was more a writing
exercise and I wanted to add in the info about Saint Anthony's church
(all true). This is set in Pittsburgh, and dedicated to Leslie, aka
Remember--present is in Dean's pov and past is Sam, which means he has
no idea what happened to Dean-- it is all about Sam in a point in time.
It was stupid to hate a whole city because of a past hunt. Pittsburgh
had its good points. The Steelers. Food was good-a lot of German
influence. Schnitzel he liked. The hunt was about ten years ago, and he
stopped looking over his shoulder nine years ago.
He looked over one more time because it was Pittsburgh and better safe
than sorry. They were not here on a hunt. It was more of an
investigation. Relics had been stolen from a church. They needed to
find the persons or person committing the crime. Antiquities in the
wrong hands spelled trouble. The Colt was an example of that. To the
Winchesters it was salvation, to the demon it was destruction.
Dean sprinted as the motel came into sight. He had gone for a run when
he awoke early in the morning, leaving Sam sleeping. He entered the
room, his sweatshirt stained with sweat and a little out of breath.
"Sam!" He called out to his brother. A quick glance around the room and
Sam was not there, but there was a folded note- Went to pick up breakfast.
Dean peeled off the sweatshirt. His t-shirt clung to his body. He had
brought in the tension bar last night and fastened it to the bathroom
doorframe. Dean started with chin-ups. After a set of fifty he kept his
body rigid and lifted his legs up and down in a slow, controlled
movement. Finished, he removed the bar and stretched, turning on the
Sam arrived holding a paper bag and balancing a tray of coffee as Dean
was doing squats with Denise Austin. "What are you. . ."
"Working out my quads, butt and thighs and looking at a hot girl." Dean
continued the exercises, following Denise's promptings and bending
Sam looked away, concentrating on the coffee and bagels placing them on
the small table in the motel room. "It's embarrassing, man."
"Check her out, Sammy." Dean said as he did alternating lunges.
Sam walked over.
Dean pointed to Denise's sports bra and underwear. Even Sam had to
admit she had a great body, and there was the sheen of sweat. . .
"Motivating, isn’t it?" Dean added, seeing his brother's jaw slacken.
"Yeah, but, man, can't you find something else?" Sam found the remote
and clicked the television off.
"Hey! Buns of Steel was next!" Dean tried to snatch the remote control
back, but Sam tossed it onto the bed. Dean's interest waned as the
coffee aroma was too enticing. "What'd you get for breakfast?"
"Muffins." Sam pulled one out and took a bite; the crumbs broke off and
landed on the table.
Dean gestured to the bag. "What kind? And don't say bran. I can't choke
Sam shook his head with a smile. "Blueberry."
Dean opened the bag and pulled the paper off the muffin bottom. He was
hungry, especially after the workout. "Find anything else out?"
"I walked by the church on my way to get coffee." Sam took another bite
of the muffin, chewed, then continued. "Weird that this church in
Pittsburgh has the largest collection of holy relics outside of the
"That someone is stealing." Dean had finished his muffin in two bites
and was looking for another one. His brother always was stingy on the
Sam brushed the crumbs off his hands. "Since I had some time this
morning I did some research."
Dean knew Sam was referring to Dean's morning workout. "It's important
to keep up appearances, Sammy. That muffin is gonna go straight to your
"Guess it's lucky I don’t have to work too hard." Sam stretched his
"You keep thinking that." Dean took the lid off the coffee, which was
hampering his ability to take a large gulp. "So what did you come up
"St. Anthony's Chapel on Troy Hill's collection was acquired by one
wealthy priest who founded the parish and used his own money to collect
the treasures. He built this chapel to house them back in 1890," Sam
read the church pamphlet out loud.
Dean snatched the brochure from Sam's hands. "Anything strange before
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "People have left their crutches, canes,
and eyeglasses at the door as a sign of their miraculous healing at St.
The older Winchester wondered what sacrifice was made for those
'miracles.' He doubted that prayer was enough, especially after what
his father had done for him. "So two months ago some relics go missing?"
"Some small stuff, but the priest noticed. A bone fragment from Saint
Francis, then a pin from Saint Ursula."
Dean placed the pamphlet on the table. "And now what's missing?"
"A mantle belonging to Saint Stephana and a cup from Saint Theodore."
"I say we check out the church. See what we find."
Sam waved his hand in front of his face as Dean leaned in to see if the
bakery bag was empty. "After you take a shower."
"Why don’t you go buy some more breakfast? 'cause one muffin is a
snack, not a meal. How about some wurst?" Dean retorted as he went into
the bathroom to clean up.
"For breakfast?" Sam grimaced.
"Why not?" Dean shrugged. It was like breakfast sausage.
Dean and Sam parked the Impala. Dean put in all the change he had for
the meter, giving them a little over an hour. They walked up the hill
to the church wearing their suits. As FBI agents they needed to dress
the part. It was a residential neighborhood with older, middle class
homes. They reached the church, and entered the quiet sanctuary. Daily
morning mass was said at 9 am and had long passed. Sam picked up the
church bulletin. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the aisle.
The altar and brightly colored stained glass window were before them.
"Says here the pastor is Father Gomes," Sam whispered.
One of Dean's eyebrows rose. "Why are you whispering?"
Sam frowned. "Because we are in a church."
"We're not Catholic."
The younger Winchester glanced around. "A church is a church." The
quietness was interrupted by a tow headed boy entering through a
doorway with a toy airplane. He mimicked an airplane sound as his feet
hit the marble floor, clattering along. He was quickly followed by his
mother, who called out in a loud whisper:
Dean couldn’t hide the smirk as Jimmy barreled forward. Dean placed a
hand out, stopping the boy before he crashed into him. "Hey there, you
may want to think about slowing down."
The mother walked at a fast clip to reach her son. "Thank you." She
placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Jimmy, that wasn’t nice,
especially in church."
Sam and Dean watched as the mother scolded her child. She turned to
them to give them a nod.
"Kill the boy."
Dean's eyes narrowed. He glanced at his brother who hadn’t reacted to
the statement. "Pardon me?"
"Thank you again." The mother smiled.
"Do you know where we can find Father Gomes?" Sam asked.
"He's not in today, but Father Martin is in the rectory." She pointed
to the doorway, then firmly guided her son past the two brothers.
Sam took a few steps forward, but his brother was not following. "Dean?
You with me?"
He turned and looked at the woman's retreating back, then at the altar
with the cross hanging above it. Maybe he didn’t hear anything. It was
just the acoustics. He hoped, either way he was not going to act on
someone telling him to kill a boy. It wasn't going to happen. "Yeah,
yeah." He stepped forward and followed his brother.
1996. Pittsburgh, PA
"Sam!" Fourteen year old Sam was in the car reading Cry, The Beloved Country
and on lookout duty. He had borrowed the book from the library. He
usually got books at yard sales, since it was difficult to return
library books. He probably had a record with libraries across America.
Reading kept him occupied. He was too young to participate in the hunt.
Unfortunately, he still trained with his brother, and was sporting some
sore calf muscles after the Ranger trek through the woods. He looked up
to see his brother dragging their father, trying to bear most of John's
weight while holding a shotgun and a duffel bag looped around his
The youngest Winchester dropped the paperback and opened the Impala
door assisting his brother by grabbing the gun and bag. Sam saw the
blood dripping from a cut on his father's forehead. The way he was
hunched over and not talking or giving orders meant there were more
injuries. Sam opened the back door of the car. Gently Dean eased their
father in as Sam helped to swing his legs inside.
"Dean?" Sam hesitated as he closed the door. Dean ran to the driver's
"Gonna be okay, Sammy." It was his patented older brother reply. It
wasn't comforting especially when John groaned.
Dean glanced back at his father. "I can fix this." He repeated the
statement again as he started the engine.
Sam sat against the door, keeping an eye on his brother and father.
John was breathing steadily and Dean was dedicated to driving. "What
"It was more powerful than we thought." The eighteen year old spared a
glance in the rearview mirror.
It was unlike the Winchesters to go into a situation unprepared. In
fact Sam had done the research, which his father and brother had relied
on. "What? How?"
"I don’t know."
Sam chewed on his bottom lip, taking blame. "Those articles I found at
the library said he murdered his son. The police shot him dead." The
exorcism should have worked, and his father should have been unharmed.
"Not now, Sam." Dean cut off his brother's comments in a low tone. "Not
Mentally, the young teenager went through the information he had pieced
together. Vince Eder was the deceased owner of the colonial style home
in Emsworth, Pennsylvania outside of Pittsburgh, ten years ago he had
held his son hostage. After a tense standoff with police, he shot his
son and the police shot him dead in return. The house had been haunted
ever since with curious people being injured over the years.
"Dad?" Sam turned in his seat as he heard John groan.
"He's gonna be fine. . ." Dean made the sharp turn into the parking lot
of the Stop and Stay Motel. Dean found a parking space near their room.
"Help me get him inside."
Sam opened the car door and was there with a willing shoulder. His
brother took most of their father's weight and John shuffled his feet.
"It's okay, Sammy." Dean repeated as he opened the motel door with one
hand, and used his foot to knock the door ajar. They deposited John on
the nearest bed. "Go get the kit, wet a towel and some dry ones too."
The teen reacted swiftly, and gathered the requested supplies. Dean had
divested John of his shirt. There were red angry bruises on John's
torso, and a diagonal slice from hip above the hip bone and stopping
just before the nipple.
"Here you go." Sam swallowed. He hovered, wanting to help.
Dean gripped John's chin. "Dad? Dad? Come on. . ."
John jerked his head, then opened his eyes. "Mmm..Dean? Sam?"
"We're here." Dean confirmed, and looked at Sam with a nod.
John closed his eyes. "Good boys."
Dean shook his head, and rested a hand against his father's cheek. "We
gotta fix you up."
"'kay," John agreed, but Sam didn't believe it was a coherent thought.
Dean snapped his fingers, pointing to the kit. Sam rifled through,
quickly reading the prescriptions and settled on Percoset. He tossed
them to his brother.
Dean removed two of the small pills, opened his father's mouth and
closed it. "Swallow, Dad."
John opened his eyes slightly, licked his lips and did as he was told.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed, and Sam assisted, knowing what Dean
would need. First the wound was washed, and pressure applied until the
bleeding had slowed down. By the time this was completed, twenty
minutes had passed so the painkillers had started to work. Dean cleaned
the wound with hydrogen peroxide and Sam watch the wound bubble white.
Lastly, it was blessed in holy water.
They both looked at the wound, and where it was still bleeding stitches
would be necessary. Sam heated the needle and threaded it. Dean took in
a deep breath, then began the procedure of sewing the wound.
Sam went to wash his hands, so his presence would not be distracting.
He came out the bathroom and prepared the other supplies they would
need- ACE Bandage for the ribs, gauze and antibiotic ointment for the
After another twenty minutes, Dean finished. Sam applied the antibiotic
ointment, and laid the bandage on top while Dean washed his hands. It
took both of them to wrap their father's torso.
John hadn't awakened throughout the whole procedure. Dean and Sam sat
on the other bed, and stared at their father. This was their remaining
Dean placed his hands on his knees, stood up and grabbed the car keys
from the table.
"Where are you going?"
Dean placed his hand out, halting Sam. "We need some supplies. We
passed a place opened 24 hours." Dean glanced at their father. "We need
some money too. Watch Dad."
"But, Dean. . ." Sam didn't want Dean to leave him. He didn't want the
responsibility of taking care of their father.
Dean placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Sammy, Dad's gonna be
outta commission for awhile. I gotta do this."
Sam knew his brother was waiting for permission. And he had to give it
to him because there was still rent to pay, and food needed. "Okay."
Dean grinned, then went over to his Dad, and squeezed his foot. "You
know the drill. Wake Dad up in an hour if I'm not back by then."
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