Guardians of Darkness (Supernatural/Black Butler)

Misadventure

"No, Sammy, it's tempus!" Dean Winchester yelled in vain, steeled and ready for a fight to begin at any moment. Dean and his brother found themselves on a typical Thursday night, hunting demons, the family business. However, tonight, they would hate to admit, they were the ones being hunted. Sam was attempting to recite the new spell they had learned. Dean knew it was impossible for Sam to hear him over the incessant pounding at the door which seemed to be growing in volume. It was uncharacteristic of him to mispronounce words but, Dean surmised, that was the risk they took.

They were trying to escape to somewhere. Anywhere was fine, really, as far as they were concerned by the powerful demon behind the motel door. As Sam finished the spell, Dean prayed that it would work and take them away, even if it would be only two hours in the past.

The symbol painted on the wall began to glow, and Dean and his younger brother approached it desperately. This was a demon they had encountered before that had resulted in blood and bruises, and they were not eager to face it again if they could help it. Constantly running from it instead of fighting frustrated Dean, but he wasn't willing to risk his brother's safety for such a demon.

A loud hiss and bang sounded from the door as it was forcefully pushed a final time, flying inwards. Dean and Sam glanced at the glowing symbol that filled the room with white light, and Dean clutched his knife's handle, turning to face the assailant. He was easily willing to give his life for his younger brother if necessary.

Finally the light from the wall engulfed him, and he started falling.

***

He remembered when Sammy was five years old, when Sam had found a Checkers board at the library where they were supposed to be doing research for Dad. In his infinitely energetic state, Sam had curiously peeked around every corner and bookshelf until he discovered it. He remembered Sam then asking him if he knew how to play.

"Teach me, Dean? Can you show me?" He pleaded and innocently widened his eyes. He gave Dean his trademarked puppy dog face while clutching the Checkers board in front of him.

Dean's eyes flickered down to the book he had been combing through, looking for what his father had described as a skinny monster with a triangle-shaped head and practically two-dimensional feet that wrapped its body around its victims. Dean ran his hand across his temples, sensing a headache coming on just thinking about it.

"Here, I'll show you how to set it up." Dean said, reaching across the table for the black pieces. He began to set them in rows based on the color of the tile he set them on. Sam's face lit up as he watched his older brother in admiration.

"Finish this while I write down some more stuff for Dad. I'll be done in just a second." He eventually said. Sam nodded enthusiastically and carefully grasped a red piece in his small hand, contemplating its correct position.

Then he was falling, sinking again into nothing but blinding white.

Blurry faces softened into his vision, swimming in and out of focus. He was aware of a pounding in his head and-- oh-- it was only one face. The figure sat crouched over him, gripping his shoulders with both hands. Dean faintly smelled spring in the air and recognized the sensation of blades of grass caressing the back of his head. He was sure his shoulders were going to have bruises now because this person was holding them so tightly. Couldn't they see he was trying to sleep?

"Dean! Can you hear me? Get up! Dean, hey, wake up!"

Oh, it's Sammy. Hi, Sammy, he thought. A little busy right now. Dean felt his heart rate slow as he fell into a peaceful rest, and... Wait a minute, Sammy? Where was he? Is he safe? Did the spell work? Dean thought for a moment that this could be heaven, but erased the thought because he did not live through all the monsters, angels, and demons in his years to die without fighting.

Dean opened his eyes once more.

"Dean... Dean? Hey! Are you okay?"

"Uh... yeah," He found himself slurring. "What 'appened?"

Sam looked about eight years old this time. Dean was uncertain whether he was relieved or disappointed that this was another childhood memory.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry. Don't you remember?" Sam responded.

Dean unconsciously mumbled something along the lines of, "Uh, my head's not really better yet..." He guided his own hand to the back of his head, wishing to relieve the pain there.

"You tried... You tried to catch me. You didn't have to catch me, but you were the one who got hurt. Are you alright?" Sam inquired, looking concerned.

It was then that Dean looked behind Sam, noticing the tree from his temporary home in Missouri. Not only the tree, however, but the treehouse. Overall a rather pathetic, puny treehouse but a treehouse nonetheless. He recalled walking through the woods behind the house with Sammy and discovering the wooden boards nailed onto a particular tree. Evidently some previous renter of the house had attempted to build it, and Sam, being the brave eight year old he was, told Dean he wanted to climb it and see what was up there.

Dean gestured for Sam to climb first so he could catch him if he fell. Sam was perhaps too brave for his own good and did not check a certain board for sturdiness before grabbing it and pulling downwards with all his strength. The board fell atop Sam's head similar to the way Sam fell on Dean, and the rest was history.

"Yeah, I'm alright." He assured. On second thought, he added, "Let's not try that again." This withdrew a relieved chuckle from Sam, who was still sighing in relief.

This time, he was more prepared for the ground to give beneath his body and to be tossed into the weightless void of white. He was aware of only a flicker of fear in the back of his mind that he would not escape the vast expanse of his own memories. It felt like he was holding his breath, flailing and kicking with abandon while swimming toward the surface of consciousness. It looked close enough to reach out and touch with his hand.

Then he was pulled back under, swiftly sliding along with the current. Maybe if I just close my eyes and try to breathe...

Then came the inevitable, the memory he knew he was cursed to relive. This memory came in chunks, almost like watching a film in fast forward. He saw himself and Sam at very young ages, eating dinner with the family like any other normal night. Sam was being spoon fed by Mary, and in this captured moment in time Dean could see everyone's faces. He himself was scowling, pretending he didn't want to eat, hoping instead probably to read comics. Overall everyone looked content to have a nice home and family, his parents happy to be able to pass their wisdom down to another generation. The film roll clicked, and the next frame was Sam being laid down in his crib by Mary, softly humming a song to him. Dean couldn't hear it but he guessed it was Hey Jude. He winced as the next frame too quickly rolled into his vision, a yellow-eyed demon grinning sadistically at his mother. Dean tried to close his eyes or move his body but the next frames barreled forward anyways. His mom splayed across the ceiling surrounded by the fire, taking Sam outside and watching his house burn, wondering what had happened.

This time the rough transition from a film of his life to reality shook Dean's body and rattled his very bones. He had somehow bitten the inside of his cheek and could taste blood in his mouth. He was lying on the cold hardwood floor, sweating and panting and maybe even crying, but he wouldn't admit that.

And of these experiences, Dean knew there was only one lesson: protect Sam. At least, that's what he understood from it all.