Dean goes undercover, to try and acquire something that may just tip the balance in the upcoming war.

Bearer of all Light

Chapter one

'How could a lousy book be so much trouble?' Sam was stationed at the small table in front of his open laptop but his attention was elsewhere. Nothing was ever simple, and as this plan had time to germinate in his mind he was sure of only two things.

One, if Bobby's contact was right, this book would be a great weapon in the war…in fact it may even tip the balance; and two, Dean was the wrong man for this particular job. Hell, he wasn't sure that any hunter would beright for this job, but Dean?

It was bad enough that his brother had spent the last three weeks throwing himself at every hunt that came their way, launching himself in front of every supernatural nasty, dragging Sam behind. A bulldozer of all things demonic, nothing paranormal was safe and Sam was feeling the strain. Another wave of frustration snaked its way through his gut.

Enough. Standing smartly, he marched over to the closed bathroom door.

"Dean, this is so stupid!" He fisted his hand and hammered on the wood.

It sounded louder than he'd intended but he didn't care. "This has got to be one of the worst plans I've ever heard. You know there is no way this is gonna work, you'll be made the second you set foot in that place."

The voice sounded muffled through the thin wooden barrier. "Fraid I can't hear a word you're saying Griselda, try speaking up a little cos I'm pretty sure the neighbour's can't hear you either."

"Deeaan!"

Sam inwardly cringed at the sound of himself. God, was he whining? When had he started whining? But then why exactly was that a surprise? Two days of beating his head against the brick wall that was Dean Winchester and this was kind of to be expected. And the audible smirk in the voice coming from the bathroom just made him angrier. He needed to talk to Bobby, and he needed to talk to him now!

As if on cue Sam thoughts were diverted by the rumble of Bobby's pickup pulling up outside. Pivoting on his heels he stalked out of the room letting the unlocked door slam behind him.

In the bathroom, Dean braced himself against the cool porcelain of the sink. He breathed in deep and tried to exhale the tension sitting deep in his chest. Eyes tight shut, he tried to clear his mind and take stock. He looked at himself in the cracked and steamy bathroom mirror one last time.

'Jeez, this had better be freaking worth it.'

ooooo

Bobby scanned the car park as he pulled up in front of room 12. He'd only been gone a little under 2 hours, so why was he feeling like the world had shifted out of sinc in that short time? He saw Sam approach as he switched off the engine, and recognised that Winchester on the warpath look. Hell he'd seen that one a few too many times already, and it never ended anywhere good. As he climbed out of the truck he hooked his cap and dragged a hand through greying hair. Replacing his headgear, he took a deep breath and put up both hands in a consolatory gesture before shaking his head carefully.

"Don't even get started on me boy. That brother of yours has never listened to a word I said before, what in hell makes you think he'll start now? And I know better that to get between two Winchesters no matter what the reason. Sides, this plan ain't as bad as you're making out. He may just pull it off – long as you're willing to help him."

"It's not about helping him Bobby you know that, it's just, this feels like an accident waiting to happen" Sam stretched out his arms and shrugged. "There must be another way we can get hold of this book. If it is what you think it is, maybe this guy will see reason and….."

"Don't think your givin' your brother much credit there Sam" Bobby looked at him hard. "And as far as seeing reason is concerned, this guy had his chance. He only talks to money, and that means not to the likes of us."

"Fine, but you know as well as I do that it should be me going" Sam couldn't help the hint of resentment in his voice.

Bobby gathered up the supplies and slammed the cab door as he started towards their room. He glanced up at Sam as he spoke softly "Yeah, because we all know he's gonna let that happen."

Bobby stilled, the words hanging in the air between them. The shame that darkened Sam's face sent Bobby cold, throwing a shiver of guilt down his spine but he quickly regained his composure. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Besides, for this job you just don't fit the profile Sam, you know that, and you know I wouldn't let Dean do anything if I thought…….. " again Bobby caught Sam's eye. There was nothing further to be said. Neither man was prepared to risk Dean even if he seemed fixated on risking himself. Bobby lowered his gaze, turned and started for the motel.

Bobby and Sam entered the room in silence, both weary and feeling like they'd done nothing except but heads for the last 24 hours. Sam closed and locked the door, turning just in time to see Dean make an appearance from the bathroom.

For just for a moment, time stood still.

The hair on top and back of Dean's head was spiked up and out in tufts and he had pulled down a fringe of sorts from the longer hair usually so perfectly gelled above his forehead. Of course the style wasn't so much the issue as was the colour, it was pale gold, the colour of butter popcorn. As were his eyebrows and the trimmed beard he wore.

'In through the nose out through the mouth, keep breathing Dean, Just like a hunt – don't let them feel your fear.'

Dean didn't move.

Then slowly a grin started to inch its way onto his face. He tossed the used towel from his neck onto the bed and stood in front of the closed bathroom door in black button-down shirt and pants, a stark contrast to his new bleach blond hair.

Creasing his eyebrows he looked at Sam "So Sammy, still don't think I can pull this off, huh? Still think they'll spot me the moment I walk in there?"

Sam hadn't moved from the door, eyes stiffly focused on his brother. "Dude, I'm not sure I would spot you. That stuff will wash out, right!?"

Dean ran the back of his hand under his chin through the short beard. 'Oh God I hope so.'

"Well y'know, Sammy,I'm kinda thinking of keeping it like this for a while just to find out for myself."

This time it was bobby who managed to find his voice. "Find out what exactly?"

Dean smirked. "Do blonds really have more fun, Bobby? I just gotta know."

Bobby shook his head slowly one more time in what looked a lot like despair and moved to the table. He set about emptying the bags of supplies he had brought, food and ammunition. As an afterthought he pulled out a pair of small, round rimmed, dark glasses from a pocket and tossed them to Dean.

Sam still couldn't take his eyes off this new look. It was all kinds of wrong, in all kinds of ways, but strangely, it just worked…and once Dean put on the glasses…

"Man, you look like a German librarian" Sam said slowly and pulled a lop-sided grin.

"Just the look I was going for, quit starring. Dude take a picture it'll last longer" Dean immediately swatted at Sam hand as he held up his mobile.

"Boys, we need to get serious here." Bobby walked back to the centre of the room and stood between the two brothers. "This job is important, I don't need to remind either of you what's at stake here, so if were gonna do it, we need to do it right. If this is gonna have any chance of playin' out…" he gestured to Dean "…you got some work to do." He turned to Sam "…and you've gotta help him. He may have the look down but that mouth of his will kick start trouble before he's engaged his brain" Glancing back to Dean "You gotta make them believe you know what you're talking about and that ain't always easy for you Dean, even when you do. We got 24 hours; it ain't long so let's move like we mean it."

ooooo

The hand slid snugly into the white latex glove as he flexed and tested his fingers, the thin plastic cuff at his wrist, snapped as he tugged on it. He liked to do that, made him feel like a medical man. Made him feel like a man with an important job to do. A surgeon, carrying the godly gift of hope to the unfortunate. It made him feel like a man on a mission.

He allowed his gaze to wander for just a moment and caught his own reflection in the large glass cabinet to his right. He rocked his weight onto the balls of his feet and stood as tall as his diminutive height would allow. Lifting his chin, he turning his face from side to side appraisingly. Long tendrils of thin grey hair, parted at the side, flopped against his taut scalp. He chose not to see the saggy jowls and beady eyes gazing back from his own image. In his mind he was in his prime and had been for the last 20 years, and he'd always liked what he saw, not a man cursed with false modesty.

He flinched at the sound of a door opening at the far side of the hall, and turning, he walked slowly to the table, sitting as if awaiting a good meal, fingers laced in front of him.

He closed his eyes and focused on the tip tap of the woman's stilettos on the marble floor getting louder and conjured up an image of her in his mind. If he were a man of leisure he would make a point of frequenting the vault just so he could smell her perfume.

He waited.

He was patient.

Waiting was no matter, he was good at it and it only increased the anticipation of the moment. She placed the package in front of him and stood tall. "Would you like to see anything else from your private collection today, Mr Warminger?"

He dismissed her with a withering glance. Wouldn't do, to become too familiar with the help no matter how good they smelled. She grabbed at her opportunity and hurried to the exit, making a point of not looking back.

Once he was alone, he leaned back, relaxed his fingers and slowly opened his eyes. He gracefully uncoiled the protective barriers of muslin that had shielded this rarity for the last decade, his expression turning lustful as his gaze feasted on the cracked, blood red, etched leather. Slowly he ran one latex covered finger over the buckled spine and felt a pulse of pure electricity ebb into his greying skin. He bent low and breathed in hard through his nose, allowing himself a smile. The smell of an old rare book was unique, like a fingerprint in history, and this particular fingerprint was going to make him a very rich man.

ooooo

The chapel was a thing of beauty. Grey stone walls contrasted against the surrounding dark earth and a heavy wooden double door sat squarely in the centre. Tall stained glass windows painted pictures of saints and angels, and with the sun going down they seemed to take on a life of their own, eddying between shadow and light.

Dean walked through the chapel's heavy wooden doors like he owned the place. 'Knowledge may be power Sammy, but balls of steel will take you places.'

He was stopped in his tracks by a truck in a suit. The man stood close enough so Dean could see the pores in this skin and he didn't like it one bit. Every instinct told him to 'finish this bitch' and he felt the adrenaline surge through him in preparation for his patented 'fight or fight' response. 'Flight' was a word Dean Winchester never used anymore.

It took every ounce of self-control to just stand nose to collar bone with this mountain of muscle and do nothing, until a sharp, deep voice from the other end of the room snapped the tension. "Mr Steiner, so glad you could join us."

The mountain moved, allowing Dean his first view of the room's interior. The grey walls were lavish. Tapestries and carvings depicting the Stations of the Cross wound their way round the room, and there was a huge wooden table and two wooden carved chairs. The man who had spoken, sat at the head of the table, on the most ornate and throne like of the seats. He looked completely at home as he sat watching the new arrival.

'And here we go' Dean slowly grinned as he made his way to the table.

ooooo

Sam hunched behind the wheel of the impala and chewed his thumb nail. He had to give credit to Bobby; he'd chosen this location well, close enough to see the chapel but hidden enough to not be noticed. He held up the small binoculars and focused the lenses. He could just make out Bobby in his truck at the other end of the road. He was glad of the older man's presence, he seemed to be the calming influence both brothers needed right now.

He let out a slow sigh and rubbed at his temple. Since the death of the yellow eyed demon Sam had no visions, but the instinctive protectiveness he felt towards his brother was stronger than ever. It had only been three weeks since that night and the repercussions were going to last a long time.

Dean was on some kind of rebound, Sam was sure of that. He was throwing himself in the path of as much danger as he could find, as if taunting the reaper to come get him. Maybe he thought he couldn't die, since he'd already been given his allotted time of exit.

The soft vibrate of his phone shook him from his thoughts. "What's going on, Bobby?"

"You see anything?"

"Not since Dean went in."

"Can't see a dammed thing from over here. Keep them peeled, Sam."

He closed his phone with a snap, and not for the first time offered up a whispered prayer that Dean would be able to keep his dammed mouth shut.

ooooo

"I am Mr Warminger and you are not quite what I expected Mr Steiner – if you don't mind me saying" The man stood from his stately position and moved round the table offering his hand. Dean ignored it. The man paused, and then withdrew, a smile on his lips that never quite reached his eyes.

"You, on the other hand are exactly what I expected" Dean was aiming for arrogance and hit it head on. He sat without waiting to be invited and gazed at this host through the small dark lenses.

"Please, I meant no offence" The seller held up both hands palms out-stretched. "Merely thought you would be, older."

Dean felt a swift moment of alarm. Had this man met James Steiner? Did he have intel that Bobby had missed? That thought alone was comforting – Bobby never missed anything. 'Time to move this along' "I'm here to buy, Mr Warminger not to chat. Do you have the bible?"

"All things in good time Mr Steiner, have you brought the money?" The seller had returned to his seat, his fingertips pressed together at his lips as if in prayer.

"Until I see the merchandise…"

"You know what I have, Mr Steiner."

"I know what you think you have, Mr Warminger." Dean used his best John Winchester commanding tone and waited for the inevitable.

Silence.

He was being tested.

Dean sat perfectly still, back braced against the hardwood chair, hands resting on the huge dinning table in front of him. He allowed his gaze to wander. The seller was flanked on the right by the bodyguard who had greeted Dean at the door. There was no question he had been chosen to look the part rather than for actual ability. Dean could think of five ways to take him down without even breaking a sweat. He turned his attention to the chapel.

'Always know where your exits are, never leave you're back exposed and never go anywhere unarmed'.

The first two of John Winchesters cardinal rules were proving a challenge to say the least. The carefully positioned chair he sat in faced away from the door and the only other exit from this room was a flight of steps leading down from the far corner and going God knows where.

Suddenly, Warminger laughed out loud and clapped his hands together; he was enjoying the game. He gestured once in the direction of the man mountain, who turned on his heels and marched to the door. Both men sat and waited in silence.

It seemed like an age but was only a few minutes when they heard the creak of the hinge once again.

'And here comes Tiny'. The package was deposited with all due reverence on the table in front of its owner. It appeared to be as big as Sam's laptop but much deeper and looked a lot heavier and was shrouded in a thin white material.

Dean allowed himself a moment of relief. He'd really expected this to be a whole lot harder. He thought back to the hours spent with Sam, researching the Steiner collection for all he was worth, desperately searching for easy to remember information that would lend him credibility. If he was completely honest it had been Sam who'd done most of the actual researching. Actually, it had been Sam who had done most of the remembering as well.

Warminger's smile widened as he caught site of Dean eyeing the volume. He put out his hand palm up and took the pair of latex gloves from his minder, who then placed a second pair on the table next to Dean's hand.

"Mr Steiner, if you will? This book has not been touched by human hands in over a decade." It was more of a command than a request but it suited Dean's plans to get this over with as quickly as possible. He stood up slowly and put on the gloves, walking around the table till the two men were too close to each other to feel comfortable. And with the protective material discarded, Dean was finally able to see the bible for the first time.

The cover was dark crimson with a single Latin word etched into the surface of the leather. Dean frowned slightly as he traced the letters with one latex covered finger. 'Sanctified?'

Somewhere in the recesses of Dean's memory an alarm bell started to sound. This was all wrong; this was not what he'd been expecting. Sammy had found a pretty definitive description of the bible they were after and this wasn't it.

He gently lifted the cover with his fingertip, the ancient spine giving with a crack as the books insides were laid bare. He took off his glasses and dropped them on the table out of the way. The transcript was handwritten and laced with mystical symbols. Some he recognised, some were a mystery but his eyes scanned the text set out in front of him. He wasn't able to translate much of it but what he could read sent his blood cold.

'Eternal prison? No, that's… trapped for eternity…free from sin to co-exist in…''

'…the demon to dwell in the purgatory made sacred by…shit, SHIT, SHIT.' The memory that'd been eluding Dean became absolute. He knew what this was; he knew exactly what this was.

"Warminger, you need to listen to me very carefully, this is not what you think it is. This is something else" Dean was suddenly all hunter, his previous persona forgotten as his instincts took over. He looked the man square in the face as a dark shroud seemed to drop over his eyes. "Don't worry, I can help you. I know other people who can help but you have no idea how dangerous this thing is…we have to make sure…."

"Is this some kind of a joke? Are you trying to be funny Mr Steiner?" Warminger slammed the book closed and stripped off his gloves in one swift move, forcing Dean to take a faltering step back.

Dean squared up to the much shorter man "You need to listen to me; you don't know what you've got there."

"No, Mr Steiner. You need to listen to me, our business is concluded. You are not the first collector who has tried to trick me and you are not the only one interested in this." His hand ghosted over the surface of the leather as he spoke.

He cocked his head and addressed his bodyguard. "Mr Steiner is leaving!"

'For a big guy, he moves pretty fast' Dean thought as he sidestepped to avoid the meat-mountain barrelling towards him. The larger man tried to twist and grab at Dean as he moved, but ended up falling against the table hard, grunting in anger and embarrassment as he pushed himself up. Dean felt a mild pang of guilt as he finished the big man off with one well placed uppercut to the sweet spot on the corner of his jaw. He felt Tiny go down with a moan. 'Bigger they are harder they fall was never so true.'

He looked up and stared at Warminger. He wouldn't have long before Tiny recovered and he needed to convince them both how much danger they were in. For the first time Dean registered a look of panic reflected in the other man's eyes. Dean saw Warminger stretch out his hand towards the book.

He saw, as oily fingertips made contact with the antiquated cover.

Suddenly the room became intensely bright. A piercing shriek split the air forcing Dean onto his knees with hands pressed tightly against his ears. It seemed to go on for ever and Dean forced his eyes open, trying to see what he was up against. The first image he could identify was Warminger in the centre of the room, standing on his toes, arms outstretched as if held in place by invisible bonds. His face was twisted in a creased silent scream of pure agony as ropes of sticky pulsing light flowed from his fingers and out of his mouth and eyes. He was convulsing now as his body was lifted higher and higher till he became a suspended crucifix over the table. Tendrils of fire burning hotter than lava inched their way slowly from his outstretched fingertips into the wooden floor.

The heat was unnatural and was moving incredibly fast. The room was filling with swirls of hot gritty smoke making it hard to breath and Dean could see the fire incinerating everything in its path. He grabbed Tiny by the collar and pulled him under the wooden table knowing this was a temporary measure at best. Keeping his head close to the floor, he desperately peered through the thickening smoke and saw the door. It was an inferno of crackling wood and spitting flame. Too thick to break through, and they wouldn't be alive long enough to wait till it burned. 'So, the door not an option then.'

Frantically, he pulled at his pocket feeling the mobile in his hand. As he pushed Sam on speed dial, Tiny rolled over landing a hard shoulder into Dean's hand sending the phone skittered out of his reach just as Sam picked up. The last sound Dean heard was Sam's voice calling his name as the wood of the floor gave a sickening groan and collapsed, taking Dean, Tiny, and the table with it into the depths below.

TBC