Demon's Year

Chapter One: Paperthin Hymn

If this is the first of my stories that you've read, you'd best back up and go to my profile, because you have stumbled upon a massive AU! There are multiple one-shots and chaptered fics in what I called the "Demon Blood" 'verse. Quite a bit of this story will probably fail to make sense if you don't go back and read everything prior to this. The order of the stories is in my bio.

So! New story, first chapter. I plan to incorporate a lot of the stories from SPN's season 3 into this story, so if there's any dialogue that comes from an episode, I'll be sure to give credit. As for this chapter, it's all me, including the lyrics near the end. The piano music that goes along with the lyrics hasn't been written yet, but I hope to finish and record it for you to hear someday. It sounds fantastic in my head; I just hope it comes out sounding just as fantastic as I've imagined. Anyway, that's enough rambling from this crazy author. Please, have a sit, have a read, and enjoy! This story promises to be a crazy ride. :)

"Do you think that you need to be saved?"

"I think that temptation's a bitch, but family is stronger."

— Dean Winchester and Danielle Young, "Demon Virus"

Sam Winchester stood at the base of the driveway, staring up at the cream-colored house before him with the dark green door, the English hedges and the tall trees. He hadn't been to this house since the previous November when he and Dean had attended that enjoyable Thanksgiving dinner, hadn't been to this city since January, and coming here again with the news that he had to impart, well… He was scared, but he had to do this.

Walking up the driveway wasn't easy. Sam was tempted to ask Dean to get out of the Impala and do this with him, but Dean still didn't quite understand why Sam was doing this after what happened only two nights earlier, so it was better to do it on his own.

Swallowing hard, Sam reached out and pressed the doorbell. Seconds later, the front door was opened and the pale face of Lydia Young was revealed.

"Sam?" she whispered. "What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

It was more than clear that Lydia had suffered a great deal in her daughter's absence, and it made Sam's heart ache even more as the slimmest glimmer of hope filtered into the mother's emotions.

"I…" Sam had to swallow again. This was going to be even harder than he'd thought. "It's about Dan-Danielle," he finally managed, hating how his voice caught on her name.

Tears glimmered in Lydia's eyes. "Did you find her?" she asked softly.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "We were both captured," he finally managed to say. "Dani — I tried to save her, but —" He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling a few tears slip free.

Lydia let out a sob and Sam forced himself to open his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried so hard, but she was shot…"

He half-expected Lydia to start hitting him, telling him what a failure he was, but the distraught mother went the other direction and all but collapsed into his arms. "My little girl," she sobbed, clutching at him as he wrapped his arms around her. Her sobs grew in volume as her shoulders shook and Sam felt more tears escape.

A moment later, Lydia's husband, Harry came to the door. He took one look at Sam and his sobbing wife, and instantly realized what had happened. "How?" he asked softly.

"Demons," Sam said. "It was all a trap and I tried to get us out, but Dani got shot and—" He couldn't tell them what Danielle had done to try and save her family, save him, from the darkness that she, like Sam, carried deep within her. "I tried," he repeated, voice barely audible over Lydia's harsh sobs. "I tried…"

"I know," Harry whispered, reaching out and gently gathering his wife into his arms. "Where —" He broke off and looked away, blinking hard a few times. "Do you know where her body is?"

Lydia let out another loud sob as Sam nodded. "We were in Wyoming, but I convinced the authorities to transfer her to the morgue at the local hospital, instead."

Lydia continued to sob and tears finally escaped from Harry's blue eyes, trailing silently down his cheeks as he held his wife close. "Thank you for bringing her home," he said quietly.

Sam nodded again. "She told me to tell you…" He trailed off as he remembered Danielle's final words to him in the middle of that forgotten graveyard.

"Don't tell my family what I did."

"To tell you that she loved you all and that she wished…" Sam swallowed hard and looked away.

"I understand," Harry said after a moment. "Will you stay? For the funeral?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "She was a…" He somehow managed a smile. "I loved her as much as a broken-hearted man could love another."

"And she loved you the same," Harry replied. "I know she did. Again, thank you…"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "I'm so sorry." And he turned and walked back to the 1967 Chevy Impala, back to where Dean was waiting. Dean, who had just under a year left to live, who couldn't be saved, even if Sam knew that he would try, anyway.

Why did everything have to hurt so damn much?

The transfer of prisoners from one detention center to another is a fairly straight-forward deal. Each prisoner is checked, cuffed, and placed on a small, white bus for transport. One guard accompanies the bus driver to keep an eye on the men. Easy job, easy pay.

Tobias Jones calmly watched as the group of eight men were checked off by Colby Thomas, making sure that each man was seated before signing off on the form he was taking with him and climbing onto the bus. "You ladies ready for a five-hour drive?" he asked loudly. Six of the men snorted, one grumbled, and the last one merely blinked his dark eyes before looking away. Tobias chuckled and looked back down at Colby.

It was a bright, cloudless day, but thankfully it didn't tend to get very warm in the beginning of May. That made it a little strange to see sweat sliding down Colby's neck. "You all right?" Tobias asked with a frown.

"Huh?" Colby blinked at him before starting. "Oh! Yeah, I'm good, the uniform just seems a little stuffy today, that's all."

Tobias laughed. "Don't tell me you're gettin' sick, man!" he said.

"I'm not," Colby scowled. "Best be off, you know they bitch if you're late."

"Whatever," Tobias chuckled. "I'll see you later, yeah?" Colby waved and walked away as the bus driver shut the door and drove over to the gated exit. Ten minutes later, they were on a two-lane state road, heading south.

"Can we listen to the radio?" one of the prisoners asked from the back. "It gets mighty quiet without some good music."

Tobias rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at the bus driver. "Driver picks the music," he told the men. "I don't wanna hear no complainin' whether it's rock, rap or even country, you got that?" There were grumbled assents from seven of the prisoners. The last remained just as silent as before.

About thirty minutes later, the driver cursed under his breath. "What's up?" Tobias asked him over his shoulder.

"Got a stupid truck goin' too slow in front o' me and an idiot pick-up trying to pass from behind me," the driver complained.

Tobias turned slightly to look through the steel cage separating the driver from the rest of the bus' occupants and out the front windshield. "Well, he's not gonna manage with the oncoming traffic," he said, nodding at the grouping of small cars rushing by.

"He's trying to pass on my right side," said the driver.

"What?" Tobias looked, and sure enough, an old Ford pick-up was flying up the shoulder. "Dumb-ass."

"Tell me about it," sighed the driver. "I'm definitely keeping back on this one."

Tobias watched as the Ford got closer to the nose of the bus and finally passed it. Just as it moved in front of the bus, however, the truck up ahead slammed on its brakes. The Ford swerved to the left (thankfully for it, there was no oncoming traffic), and the bus driver twisted the wheel to the right —

There was a sudden upward slope in their path, and no time to try and avoid it.

The next thing Tobias was aware of was the sensation of almost flying, followed by screeching and the pain of his body slamming against something hard and metal. He wasn't even sure which part of the bus he was rammed into. An eternity later, the screeching stopped, all momentum vanished and everything went quiet.

Then he felt a hand grabbing his gun. "Hey!" he started to shout, but then the gun went off and he knew no more.

The bus had landed on its side, and both the Ford and the larger truck had slammed to a halt some fifty feet away. A few seconds later, the back emergency door on the bus burst open, and the silent prisoner with dark skin and black eyes emerged, hands un-cuffed and the guard's gun in his hands.

"Gordon!" The man turned to see three others running towards him from the trucks. One was tall and thin with light brown, curly hair; the second was shorter, more squat, with darker hair and facial hair; the last was balding, tanned skin glistening in the sunlight. "C'mon!"

Gordon Walker grinned and moved forward. The balding man held a jacket that he wrapped around him, concealing the top half of his orange jumpsuit, and he wrapped an arm around Gordon's shoulders, leading him over to the Ford. "What's next, man?" asked the shorter man.

Gordon glanced back at the bus before turning to his partners-in-crime. "We find Sam Winchester," he said, "and we kill him." He slid into the pick-up truck and slammed the door behind him.

Danielle's funeral was four days after Sam delivered the news of her death, and while Dean wasn't comfortable attending, he knew it was important to Sam that they go. Even though she had turned on them in the end, Danielle had been a very good friend.

It was a hard thing, seeing Danielle's family. Her sisters were distraught, faces pale and tear-streaked during the service. Her parents were also pale-faced, but it seemed their grief had reached a place beyond tears, now. Dean shifted uncomfortably at he sat next to Sam in his monkey suit. The funeral service was taking place inside a Mormon chapel, which, for some reason Dean couldn't understand but definitely appreciated, had padded pews.

The crowd consisted of Danielle's small family, neighbors, members of Danielle's ward, and several of Danielle's friends, Roxanne the most prominent of them all with her bright red hair and lip ring, her girlfriend Taryn sitting quietly beside her, autumn-colored hair as curly as ever. Most of Danielle's other friends looked like typical college students; some were clearly dancers like Danielle had been, while others were merely schoolmates from other classes that she had somehow managed to bond with.

Danielle had been the most non-discriminating girl Dean had ever known. It made her betrayal that much worse in his mind.

There were lots of flowers set up around Danielle's coffin and the pulpit, though no roses. Danielle had once said that roses were clichéd and pretty much overrated these days. She'd preferred other flowers like daisies and daffodils. Sam had said that she had that in common with Jess, and the look in his eyes made Dean's chest ache.

There was a musical number, an original piece Danielle had composed herself. Dean had already known that she played the piano, but he'd never known she was capable of composing, as well.

"Hey, I'm Roxanne Parker, one of Danielle's friends, and this is Taryn Fisher," said Roxy, standing close to her girlfriend as they reached the pulpit. "Dani —" Roxy broke off for a moment and swallowed. "She uh, she started writing this song after her husband Jared died last year." She held up the sheet music. "Dani wrote me a letter saying that she didn't know how to express her emotions over his passing, that the notes making up this song came to her months before the lyrics." She lowered the pages and shuffled them nervously. "She also wrote that the words came to her after two new friends came into her life and shared a similar experience that helped her to start healing."

Dean glanced at Sam, knowing that they were the friends Danielle had written about.

"Dani finished the song a few months ago," Roxy continued, "but she chose not to perform it for anyone, and she told me that it had no words, but the letter…" She trailed off and Taryn wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "She wrote that the words had been written back in November, and that she…" A sob escaped and Roxy took a moment before continuing. "Dani wrote that she wanted Taryn and me to perform this song for you today, at her funeral." Her dark eyes met Dean's. "She wrote this letter the day she died."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone took in the words. Sam was sitting stiffly next to Dean, and he couldn't even imagine how Sam felt about this knowledge. "Danielle knew she was going to die that day," Roxy continued, "knew it, and accepted it." She glanced at Taryn for a moment. "I hope you listen to every word of this song and that… that you love it as much as we do." Roxy headed over to the piano and set up her sheet music before looking over at Taryn, who took a deep breath and nodded.

The first notes were soft, but slowly gained complexity as Taryn began to sing.

"The day you left me
It felt like the sun had gone.
The day you left me
It felt like the world was done.
I didn't know how to let you go,
Didn't know how to say good-bye.
But now I see you've always been with me,
Standing by my side.

And now I know
That love will find a way.
And now I know
That after night will always come the day.
God's plan isn't always clear
But so long as I hold you dear
I'll always know
That I'll see you again someday.

The day I met you
It felt like my world had changed.
But when I lost you
It seemed the song remained the same.
I don't know why I never saw the tide
Drawing you away.
But I can see you'll always be with me
Lighting up my way.

And now I know
That love will find a way.
And now I know
That after night will always come the day.
God's plan isn't always clear
But so long as I hold you dear
I'll always know
That I'll see you again someday."

The music swelled at this point, and Dean saw Roxy's eyes close as her fingers made their way over the keys on the piano. It seemed clear that she had quickly memorized the song in the few short days of practice that she'd had. Then the music became softer, and Taryn's lips parted once more.

"The day I leave you
It could feel like the sun has gone.
The day I leave you
It might feel like the world is done.
But life goes on the way it's always done,
Leaving you to find your way.
Still I promise you I'll always be with you,
Guiding each step you take.

Just always know
That love will find a way.
And always know
That after night will always come the day.
God's plan isn't always clear
But so long as we hold each other dear
You'll always know
That you'll see me again someday.

You'll always know
That I'll see you again… Someday."

Sam and Dean drove over to the cemetery to where Danielle was going to be buried in a plot right next to her husband that had been purchased by the dead husband's rich grandparents. It was a pretty spring day that clashed with the somber atmosphere. Sam murmured that Danielle would've liked that, and Dean couldn't help but smile.

Once the coffin had been lowered into the ground, the other people who had come started to make their way back to their cars. Dean stood quietly beside Sam as Roxy approached them alone, her girlfriend standing about ten feet away with some boy.

"Hey," she said softly, smiling sadly.

"Hey," Sam replied just as softly.

There was a moment of silence.

"This is the letter Danielle wrote to me," Roxy finally said.

Dean watched as she handed Sam a sheet of paper that already looked careworn. "I received it four days ago," Roxy told them softly. Dean stepped closer to Sam and read the letter himself.

Dear Roxy,

By the time you get this, I'll be dead. I'm sorry I broke my promise, but it had to be done. I just wish I could tell you why.

You know that song I composed after Jared died? I know I told you that I never found quite the right words to go with the music, but the words actually came to me last November after I met Sam and Dean. Learning the truth of what happened to Jared and being given the chance to move on helped me find a way to express my emotions over his death. The sheet music is on my bookcase. I want you and Taryn to perform the song at my funeral. I imagine this must be too much to ask of the both of you, but I must ask it, regardless.

I'm still in South Dakota as I write this, but by the end of the day, I'll be in Wyoming, and I'll be dead. I've known this was my future for maybe 24 hours now, and I have no choice but to accept it. I tried to divert destiny, tried to save the world, only to find that I had played a role on the grand stage towards ending everything. There is so much more going on than any of us ever expected, and even though I wish I could divulge the details, I can't. Too much is riding on me, riding on my coming death. Sam has to be the last one standing. I can't change it.

When you show this to the Winchesters (I know that Sam will not only bring my body back home, but he'll insist on staying for the funeral), let them know it's okay for them to tell you how I died. My family can't know what I did, but I trust you to carry the burden of the knowledge of my actions.

I have one final request. Please don't lose contact with my family, and please stay in contact with the Winchesters, no matter where you go or what you do. I promise you'll understand why someday.

Roxy, you're the best friend I ever had, and I will miss you more than words could ever express. Please take care of yourself and Taryn, and please live for me. Live your life to its fullest.

All my love,

Danielle

"I asked her to promise me not to do anything stupid like killing someone to protect them," Roxy said quietly. "That was back in January, right after you two took off. I knew she wouldn't keep it, but I deluded myself of the truth, anyway."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "She stabbed Sam in the back," he said. "She killed him and took off because Azazel only needed one of the special children alive to be a leader. I made a Deal with a crossroads demon to bring Sam back to life, but I'm going to Hell in a year." He looked down at Roxy. "We managed to figure out where Danielle was going, and we got to her destination first. Sam tried to stop her from following Azazel's orders, but she said…" He sighed. "She said she had no choice, that destiny's a real thing, and then she opened a doorway to Hell to unleash an army. Sam had to shoot her."

Roxy's dark face was blank for a long moment before she blinked, sniffed, swiped at her suddenly-wet eyes and nodded. "That's definitely one helluva burden to carry," she said wetly with a forced chuckle. "Still, I'm glad I know the truth." She smiled sadly before asking for both Sam and Dean's contact information, including Bobby Singer's address and main phone number. After that, she returned to Taryn, taking her girlfriend's hand before leading her from the cemetery, the nameless young man trailing after them.

Dean and Sam stayed long after the coffin had been lowered into the ground and the others had left. "You think we shoulda salted and burned her?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head. "She won't come back." He took a deep breath before looking over at Dean. "She sacrificed her entire future because she thought I was a better person than her, that she had to save me and damn herself." There was a moment of silence. "It hurts," he finally whispered.

Dean looked away. "Yeah," he mumbled in agreement. He remembered Sam saying nearly a year ago that Azazel wanted to get both Dean and their father into the depths of Hell, but when Danielle had stabbed Sam and he'd died… Dean's ability to reason had flown out the window. Dean had been so determined to save Sam he'd barely even considered the consequences of his actions, and Danielle had lost her own life as a result.

It didn't change the fact that he still kind of wanted everything to just be over.

"Don't," Sam suddenly said. "I'm still gonna try to find a way out of your Deal. You can't give up."

Dean opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say, so he licked his lips before closing them tightly. Sam glanced at him, eyes wet with too many emotions before he turned and walked away, back toward the Impala. Dean watched him go before he turned back to Danielle's grave.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You didn't deserve what happened, and neither did we." He took a deep breath and forced himself to head back to the car, as well. He had just under just a year to live and he was starting to think the time would be spent convincing Sam that he could survive without Dean. He had to; Dean already knew there was no way out of the Deal.

Part of him didn't even want there to be a way out of it.

He silently drove them to their motel. "We need to head up to Bobby's in the morning," he told Sam as he parked outside the motel and headed for their room. "He should have more information about the cities all those demons might have hit."

"I know," Sam replied quietly. There wasn't much else to be said after that, and silence fell inside the Impala as it sped down the road.

"What are they waiting for?"

Ellen looked up at the frustrated tone of her daughter's voice. Jo hadn't been in the best of moods since Wyoming, and Ellen had to wonder what was making her angry: Sam's failed plan to get Danielle to stop following Azazel's orders, Dean's Crossroad's Deal, the fact that a few hundred souls had escaped before they had managed to get the doors to the Gate shut, or that the Winchester's had taken time off for a funeral. Or maybe it was the way in which all those demons had escaped and then vanished.

"Jo?" she asked her daughter softly. Jo looked over at her, blue eyes hard and tired.

"It's been a week," Jo said. "Seven whole days without any trace. Are they waiting for orders or something? Why can't we find any of them?"

Ellen sighed and ran a hand through her auburn hair. "I don't know, hon," she said. "For now, all we can do is track the missing person's reports and hope we get a hit."

Jo scowled, but nodded. Ellen glanced across the study to where Bobby sat at his desk, head buried in an old book about Crossroad's Demons. Sam had said that he had already gone through several like-minded books after John's Deal the previous summer and didn't hold out much hope for finding a way out of Dean's Deal, but that he was still determined to try, anyway. It seemed Bobby was of the same mind.

Those Winchesters were stubborn to the end, Ellen thought to herself as she printed out another missing person's report. And speaking of…

The Impala's engine rumbled into hearing, growing ever closer until Ellen could hear the old car turn into the salvage yard. "It's about time," Jo grumbled from her stack of books and Ellen had to keep from rolling her eyes at her daughter's tone of voice.

A minute later, Dean burst through the kitchen door and strode into the study. "Who's makin' food?" he asked with a wide grin on his face. "I'm starvin'."

Sam was trailing behind him, head turned down enough that his floppy hair hid his face and completely silent.

"It's good to see you, too," Ellen replied sarcastically, pulling Dean into a hug. "There's leftover roast in the fridge."

"Awesome," Dean proclaimed. "You're the best, Ellen." He snagged Jo into a quick hug and nodded at Bobby before returning to the kitchen. Sam stood in the entryway to the study, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched his brother walk away.

"Hey, Sam," Ellen said softly, leaning forward to catch his eyes. "Glad you're both back safe and sound."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly with a small smile. "Glad to be back."

The sadness in his hazel eyes pulled at Ellen's heartstrings, and she couldn't help but reach out and pull him into a warm hug. A few seconds later, Sam returned it, muscles unclenching as he relaxed into the embrace.

"How was the funeral?" Jo asked, tone much more subdued now.

"Good," Sam replied as Ellen stepped back. "It… it was good. How uh, how's the search going for our missing army?"

"Poorly," Jo sighed. "We've got over a hundred missing person's reports from the cities that reported seeing that strange, dark storm cloud of doom." She held up the stack of papers that Ellen had printed out.

Sam snorted softly. "But no activity yet?"

Jo shook her head. "None," she said. "Do you think they're waiting for something?"

"You mean besides their supposed leader who refuses to step up to the plate?" Sam asked wryly. "I think they'll keep waiting for a little longer before they figure out there's no leader to follow, and then — well, chaos."

"The sad thing is I can see that happening," Ellen said with a sigh. "You should eat, too, Sam," she added after a moment. "Lord knows your brother puts away enough for the both of you."

Sam glanced around the room before nodding with a faint smile.

"Dude, this roast is good, you gotta try it!" Dean shouted from the kitchen. Sam chuckled and left the room. Ellen watched him go, silently wondering at the hardened look in his eyes. It was vastly different from the mourning and broken, but healing look she'd seen when they had first met nearly a year ago.

"They're both different," Jo said quietly, and really, Ellen couldn't blame either Winchester. Dean had a little under a year to live, and she could tell that Sam didn't have much hope that he could save him.

"I think," she said, giving her daughter a sad smile and catching Bobby's eye, "we all are."

TBC…