On The Wings of a Phoenix

By: Ridley C. James

Beta: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. All those lovely men are property of Kripke Enterprise and The CW.

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Chapter 2/11

“So often, we believe that we have come to a place that is void of hope and void of possibilities,
only to find that it is the very hopelessness that allows us to hit bottom,
give up our illusion of control, turn it over, and ask for help.
Out of the ashes of our hopelessness comes the fire of our hope.”
-Kristi A. Dyer

Dean had done what they asked. He had waited patiently for his brother to call. Three days. Seventy-two hours and no word from Charles Conner. Four-thousand, three hundred, and twenty minutes without hearing his brother’s voice. It was the longest amount of time Dean had ever gone without talking to, seeing, or physically touching Sam. He never imagined it would be so hard to go without something. Something that had always been there.

It was like missing a sound you had never really known was there-sort of like how the forest would go deathly quiet on a hunt. It was unnatural to be without his brother. Not to hear his constant chattering, to see his lop-sided smile, or to even be prodded by a knee or clipped by a flying elbow in the middle of his sleep. He missed him so much it physically hurt-a phantom ache nothing could cure. The kind of hurt that promised death. Dean was sure if he didn’t see Sam, he might just die.

So it was partially self-preservation that sent him off on a mission he knew would probably end badly. But it was also driven by the big brother gene that said if he was hurting, then Sam was undoubtedly in as much if not more pain. After all, Dean was still at the farm-still had their father even though he was more like a ghost than a real presence these days.

But Caleb was there, and Jim and Mac. They were solid-real. Sammy had no one. Not one single dragon standing guard by his side. He didn’t even have his toy sentries that seemed to bring comfort when the real world failed. Dean might not be able to be the Athewm his kid brother needed, but at least he could take him the toy representation. If he got to see Sam in the process, hold him even for a second, it would be worth whatever punishment his father doled out. He had to know if his brother was alright. Besides John had lied to him. Again.

He had suspected as much when he asked his dad where Sam was staying. There was no doubt in his mind his father would know. He had proved himself correct after a thorough investigation of the man’s private journal.

Making it into the city had been easy with the money he had won from Caleb over the last few days. He knew the psychic had let him win more often than not, and he felt bad for using Reaves's good intentions against him. But Caleb would understand why Dean was doing it. Caleb always had his back. If anyone would get why he needed to do this for Sam, the older hunter would.

The fancy hotel was easy to find. Dean had taken a cab from the bus station, surprised at how easy people could be convinced by a sincere face, slick story, and a twenty dollar bill bonus. Dominic, the taxi driver, hadn’t even asked why Dean didn’t have any luggage besides the well-used backpack he was carrying. He was more concerned in making sure Dean showed him he had enough money to cover the fare into the heart of Louisville. For once, the teen was glad most of the world was greedy and blind.

Getting in was easy, making it to the penthouse suite that required a special key was not. Luckily for him, Jose, the elevator attendant remembered their very important guest, Charles Conner, had a grandson staying with him. A grandson he had seen only once in passing, and lucky for Dean the man was literally almost blind, having worked at the hotel for more than fifty years, and getting on in years. Apparently the gap in height and age between Dean and Sam escaped him.

“Tell your grandfather that he needs to get you a special key if you’re going to be staying for long,” Jose said, giving Dean a pat on the shoulder as he motioned him out into the lavish hallway that would lead to Conner’s suite.

“I’ll do that.” The boy watched the shiny metal doors close and he couldn’t help the nervous twinge in his stomach as he took in the surroundings. A huge crystal chandelier graced the high ceilings of the hallway and as he walked his feet seemed to sink into the thick padded gold colored carpet.

Several embossed doors marked his passage, but it was the two large ornate wooden ones at the end that held his gaze. He took a quick breath, hoping Charles would at least let him see Sam before tossing him out or worse, calling the police. Dean could hear the chimes of the doorbell inside and it was only moments before footsteps heralded the door being opened.

An older woman with an impatient smile and a frazzled demeanor greeted him. “Yes? What may I do for you?”

“I’m here to see Sam…Sam Winchester.”

“Master Samuel?” The woman frowned, glancing over her shoulder and then back to the lanky boy in front of her. Something seemed to click then because Dean recognized the look of disapproval that flashed in her mousy brown eyes. “I’m sorry...He’s not receiving visitors while Mr. Conner is out.”

“Manuela, is that the messenger from the office?” A deep voice boomed behind them and Dean flinched.

“Please, it won’t take but a minute. I just really need to give him something.”

The boy held out his backpack and Manuela raked a hand through her wild hair. “I don’t…”

She didn’t get to finish because the owner of the voice appeared behind her peering over her shoulder. He was a big man, towering above the woman’s five foot stature. His shoulders were broad, filling out the suit he was wearing and he frowned when he caught sight of Dean.

The man looked from Manuela to the kid, raising one eyebrow in interest. “Either he’s a lot older than he looks or I’m guessing he’s not got my briefs stuffed in that backpack?”

“Briefs?” Dean asked, taking a slight step back.

“Yes. Legal documents.” The man smiled, and Dean realized he was younger than he first thought. He might have been a few years older than Caleb, but not by much. “But I would settle for Chinese take-out.”

“Sorry.”

“He’s here for Master Samuel,” Manuela explained with a shake of her head.

The man nodded, a knowing look crossing his features. “I see.” He pulled the door open wider. “Then perhaps we should ask him in.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Marcus. Mr. Conner left very specific orders that no one was to see his grandson,” the woman went on, wiping her hands on a large towel she was clutching to her like a security blanket.

Mr. Marcus rolled his eyes. “Yes. Charles is very specific.” He turned to Dean. “Who are you, Son?”

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“You’re Sam’s brother?”

The teen nodded. “I just need to give him something. I won’t cause any trouble and I’ll leave right after. You have my word.”

“See there, Manuela, we have his word.”

“But…”

“But nothing.” Marcus waved Dean in. “And if I were you I wouldn’t look this gift horse in the mouth.”

The woman stared at him in confusion and the man glanced at Dean. “I bet you can talk your brother into things right?”

“I guess.” Dean frowned.

“Because you see, Manuela and Sam have been having a rather loud disagreement about whether he needs a bath and I have a lot of work I need to get done. As long as their shouting match continues I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen.”

“His head is like rock,” the woman defended, hotly.

“Sammy hates baths.” That was unless they involved a certain Lab puppy and too much bubble bath.

“But I bet you’d be willing to talk to him for Manuela?” Marcus raised a brow. “You might even be able to make her life a little less stressful?”

Dean easily caught onto what the suit was doing, and although he wasn’t sure why the man was helping him, he wasn’t about to question it. “Sammy listens to me.”

The woman harrumphed. “I do not believe that el Niño listens to anyone.”

“What if Dean can get him to unlock the door and come out of the bedroom? Surely you could let him give the boy what he needs to? Then you can do what you need to do, and Mr. Conner won’t be upset about his specific directions he left for you to carry out not being completed.”

Manuela sighed, and glanced towards the back of the expansive room. “I suppose it would not hurt to let him try.” She then whirled back to Dean. “But you must convince him to bathe and eat his dinner. He has not eaten all day.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, mam.”

Mr. Marcus, who told Dean to call him Peter, led the boy back through the suite past several doors that held what looked like a small library and an office. The hotel room was almost big as Mac’s apartment in New York and decorated in similar fashion.

They reached the last room and Peter gestured to the door. “Your brother has been in there about an hour. Manuela has tried just about everything to get him to come out and honestly I thought she was going to have a breakdown before your grandfather arrives home.” He jutted his chin towards the door. “I have to admit I’ve gotten a kick out of watching your kid brother take Charles down a notch or two these last few days, but if I don’t get some peace and quiet, I’m going to get fired.”

Dean swallowed thickly not sure if he should be comforted by the fact his brother had been the less than model prisoner or if he should be concerned for his safety if their grandfather was to lose his patience. “I’ll talk to him.”

Marcus started to walk away but then stopped, turning once more to face Dean. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with your family, I mean, I’m just a lowly assistant, but I have a feeling Sam’s going to be really glad to see you.”

“Yeah.” The guy didn’t know the half of it. Dean leaned his head against the door surprised to hear music coming from inside. It sounded like ACDC and the teen shook his head. He bet old man Conner loved that. “Sammy? You in there?” He wrapped his knuckles against the wood, and raised his voice to be heard over the tunes. “Hey, it’s me. Dean.”

There were a few moments where he heard nothing, but then a faint rustling sound echoed around him. “Dean?” The voice was unsure and softer than usual, but to Dean it had never sounded so sweet.

“It’s me, kiddo. Let me in.”

“What’s the password?”

Dean laughed, although it came out sounding like a sob. “Birthday Cake.” It had been the last one they had used, and it had been Sam’s turn to pick. The fact his birthday had only been a few weeks before was very much a factor.

The door was flung open faster than Dean thought possible and he barely retained his balance as he suddenly found his arms full with seven-year-old boy. “Dean!” Sam breathed, squeezing him tight . “I knew you’d come. I dreamed it.”

Dean grasped his little brother, fighting back the tears threatening to fall from his lashes. “Of course I came, Sammy,” he whispered back. “I promised.”

Finally Sam pulled away slightly, his face lighting up. “Did Daddy come, too? Are you taking me home?”

“Sorry, tiger. It’s just me.”

The smile only faded a little. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Dean ran his hand over the little boy’s head, frowning when he saw dark marks on each of Sam’s cheeks. “Are you okay? Are you hurt.” He reached up and touched his brother’s face.

Sam giggled. “That’s war paint. I’m making war on Manuela.”

Dean shook his head, noticing for the first time his brother was shirtless and had symbols drawn in paint littering his skin. “Like you did Joshua last summer?” Mac had given the boy a book on Native Americans and Sam had surprised them all by declaring himself to be Little Hawk. He wouldn’t answer to anything but that for nearly a month.

The boy nodded. “I put a pox on her, too. She’s really superstetic.”

“Superstitious,” Dean corrected. “And why are you throwing down on the maid?”

“She’s not a maid. She’s a nanny.”

The teen raised an eyebrow. “A nanny?”

Sam looked embarrassed. “My nanny.”

“Dude, that sucks.”

“I don’t like her. Caleb is a much better nanny.”

Dean laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that, kiddo.”

“Did he bring you?”

The kid had the hopeful look going on again and Dean hated to disappoint him. “No. But he said to tell you hi and he misses you, too.”

“Really? Does Scout miss me?”

“Big time.”

“I miss her, too. And Atticus and Jim and Mac.” He held Dean’s gaze. “But I miss you most of all.”

“I know. Ditto.” Dean finally pulled his eyes from his kid brother and glanced over the boy’s shoulder. “But, you have a sweet set up here.”

“It’s okay. There’s a pool downstairs and a park outside.”

“Sounds great.” Dean forced a smile. “I bet the food is great, too.”

Sam only shrugged. “I guess.”

“You got to eat, Sammy. Manuela said you haven’t eaten anything all day and it’s way past supper.”

“Can you stay and eat with me?”

Dean looked down at the floor. “Please. You’re not leaving are you? You just got here.”

“I can’t stay long. I’m not suppose to be here. Conner said we had to wait awhile before we could see you.”

“He’s gone to work,” Sam explained. “He works a lot.”

Dean swallowed thickly, picking up the bag he had dropped earlier. “Hey, I brought you something.”

“What?” Sam perked up again, his eyes going to the backpack.

The teen dug inside the bag, pulling out the four dragon figurines along with the small, plastic black dog. “I thought these might remind you of home.”

“My dragons!” Sam took the toys, a sparkle in his eyes. “I was worried I’d lost them when Manuela unpacked my things.” He frowned. “Or that Mr. Conner had thrown them away.”

“Thrown them away?”

Sam nodded. “He tried to throw WooBee away. He said I was too old for a stuffed toy. But I cried and he let me keep him-for now. But he did throw my clothes away. Even my jacket that Daddy bought me last Christmas. Why did he do that, Dean?”

Dean felt renewed anger surge through him. He new exactly why the man did it. The things weren’t good enough for him, and he was trying to erase every piece of Sam’s former life. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he just doesn’t understand somethings don’t come with a price tag.”

“Maybe you should take WooBee back with you. I don’t think he’s safe here.”

A grim line settled across Dean’s mouth. “Okay, little brother.”

“Hey boys?”

Sam and Dean both looked up as Mr. Marcus appeared behind them. The carpet was too soft and sound absorbing for Dean’s liking. “I hate to interrupt, but I thought I’d let you know that Mr. Conner’s just called from his car. He’s making his way towards the building as we speak.”

“Great,” Dean growled, raking a hand through his short, blond hair. “Just great.”

“Will he be mad, Peter?” Sam asked, looking up at the man.

Marcus kneeled down and plucked the green dragon from Sam’s hand. “Probably as full of hot air as this guy.”

Sam smiled. “Athewm breathes fire.”

“I bet he does.” He handed the toy back to the seven-year-old. “You have a nice collection.”

“Thanks. Dean brought them to me.”

Peter looked at Dean. “I have a few pressing matters that I have to rush out and handle. I can probably distract Charles in the lobby if you know how to make a quiet exit.”

“Quiet is my middle name.”

Marcus playfully poked the youngest Winchester in the stomach. “What a coincidence. Because I bet Sam’s middle name is ‘LOUD’, huh?”

Sam laughed. “No. It’s Johnathan.”

“About that?” Dean took his brother by both shoulders. “I want you to listen to Manuela, Sammy. No more making war, Little Hawk.”

“But Dean…”

“No buts, kiddo. Really. Don’t give her a hard time. You need someone on your side.”

“Listen to your brother,” Peter added, standing up. “He seems like a smart kid.”

“Smarter than he looks on paper,” Sam explained, parroting back the words he had heard Mackland say on occasion.

Dean rolled his eyes, reaching out and ruffling the little boy‘s hair. “Sam’s the brains in the family.”

“I figured that out after he beat me in chess last night.” Peter glanced at his watch again. “You better go."

"Is there a back door out of this place?" Dean asked.

"See, I knew you were smart." Marcus thought for a moment. "I can show you the service elevator. It will put you on the backside of the hotel where you can exit through the gardens. Charles will never be the wiser.”

“What about Manuela?”

“I think she will be very grateful to Sam if he rushes and gets his bath taken and eats his dinner before his grandfather makes it back in.”

“Sammy?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh alright. I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

“I’ll let you two say goodbye.” Peter moved down the hallway and Dean watched him go, before turning back to his brother.

Sam’s eyes suddenly welled with tears and Dean sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. Are you sure you’re okay?”

His brother blinked a few times, sending fat tears down his cheek to mix with the black war paint. “I’m okay,” he sniffed. “I just miss you and Daddy.”

“We miss you, too. More than you know.” Dean pulled the little boy in for a quick hug. “But I’ll try and come back soon. Okay?”

Sam nodded and his brother let him go. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Don’t worry, the dragons will watch out for me.”

Sam ran for the bed, grabbing the bear he had hid beneath his mattress. He ran back to Dean and shoved the ragged teddy towards his big brother. “Take WooBee. You’ll have someone to sleep with while I’m gone.”

Dean felt his throat closing up and knew he needed to go before he lost it. Sam didn’t need that. The twelve-year-old mustered the last of his big brother reserves and forced a self-assured smile. “He’s safe with me.”

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