Translations

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Thanks to heather03nmg for encouraging me to pick up the gauntlet again and post this crazy tale. Also, please make sure you read the author's note at the end of this chapter.

Summary:Dean's failure to communicate lands the brothers into trouble…again and again and again.

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Chapter 1: Possession Obsession

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As Sam Winchester pulled the Impala around the Simmons' barn and saw the collapsed shed, he cursed himself for not listening to his gut instincts, for leaving Dean to guard the beast in the shed by himself. Skidding the Impala to a halt on the loose dirt driveway, Sam was out of the car, running for the remnants of the small building before the engine even fell silent, yelling "Dean!" as he approached.

His breath trapped in his chest, his eyes flickered over the splintered wood, cracked beams and shattered glass that had once been a structure, a structure that had been an impromptu cage for a ravenous wolf, a structure that he had ordered his brother to not enter before he got back with the herbs and powders. Stumbling forward, Sam began tossing the destruction aside, terror and desperation thrumming through him simultaneously as he sought what lay underneath, who he feared lay beneath the devastation. His heart stopped as he levered a section of the collapsed wall aside to reveal a portion of the planked floor coated in a dark fluid he knew too well. Blood. "Dean!" he screamed, frantic now in his motions, his hands clawing at the debris circling the stain.

Encountering a beam in his way, he bent over and heaved it aside with a grunt of exertion. It was then he saw it, the wolf, its lifeless eyes like marbles, its neck sliced, blood matting its coat, its journey of evil brutally ended. "Dean," Sam breathed in answer, in need, in worry, even in anger.

When a voice called his name, he spun around, the fear coursing through him spiking higher because the voice, it wasn't the right one, wasn't Dean's. At the edge of the debris, Brent Simmons, the landowner's twenty one year old son, stood, his eyes openly telegraphing his anxiety. "Where's my brother?" Sam demanded, a dark edge to his tone as he stalked toward the man who seemed so much younger than himself, who did not carry his years as heavily as Sam carried his own twenty three. "Is he hurt?!" Sam pressed, unaware of the dangerous set of his features, he felt some small surprise when Brent took a fearful step back from him. Indifferent to the younger man's reaction, Sam closed the distance between them quickly, grasped the younger man's shoulders tightly and roared, "Answer me!" beginning to fear the worst by Brent's silence.

"I…he…" Brent stammered, feeling his mouth go dry at the horrible responsibility that had suddenly fallen on his shoulders. 'Why didn't I have Frank come get Sam?' he chastised himself, knowing his elder brother wouldn't be shaking under Sam's intense gaze, trembling under the iron grip of the man only two years his senior.

"Brent! Tell me! Is Dean OK? Is he in the house?!" Sam yelled, shaking the stunned man, needing answers before his heart exploded in his chest.

"He's….I think….we think… he's possessed," Brent grasped out, feeling foolish at the words, at even the thought. He didn't believe in ghosts, in possessions, had come to believe in evil wolves by necessity only. But now to say the word possessed, to believe what he was saying?! How had things gotten so strange in just a week's time, a week since the Winchesters had arrived in town.

"Possessed?!" Sam stuttered, his mind on full logic mode. The wolf, whatever had motivated its evil rampage, it hadn't been possessed. 'Right?!?", the turn of events putting his and Dean's conviction now in doubt.

"He's in the house…we were going to take him to the hospital but…we wanted to talk to you first and then….well, then….he…." Brent offered what he could, what he knew, but found he couldn't say the rest. It was too surreal. Besides, his audience was running full out for his house, leaving him to follow in his dusty wake.

Bursting through the farm house door at mach one, Sam encountered Brent's brother, Frank, washing his hands at the sink, the water turning red as it streamed down the rancher's callused, blood coated hands. Fear and panic welled in Sam and he could only utter one word, "Dean?!" as he run forward, intent on turning the house upside down in search of his brother if necessary.

Within five steps he had charged into the Simmons living room area only to come up short at the sight before him. Immediately his eyes were drawn to Dean who stood on the left side of the room, swaying on his feet, his hair matted with blood, the same ugly substance congealing on his right cheekbone, his clothing covered in dirt, his t-shirt torn on the left side of his torso, revealing ravaged skin that still leaked blood. It took Sam a moment more to register that another person occupied the room. Jack, Brent's father, stood in the middle of the room, his bloody hands raised unthreateningly but his good intensions were spoiled by the sight of a knife clutched tightly in his right hand, it's blade glistening red.

"I'm trying to help you," Jack quietly vowed, taking a step forward, causing Dean to stumble backwards and fall back against a cabinet filled with china dinnerware, letting the structure keep him upright.

Before his presence registered with either occupant of the room, Sam swept in like a northeastern gale of wind, brutally bending Jack's wrist to nearly the breaking point as he disarmed him and gave the man that he thought he could trust an angry shove backwards. "What are you doing?!" he shouted, stepping between his brother and the man that seemed more likely a suspect of possession.

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Having been on his track team, Brent entered his house only seconds after Sam, blew by Frank and stumbled to a halt at his living room's threshold. In shock he watched the younger Winchester rip a knife from his father's hand like he was simply taking candy from a baby. Even more unnerving was the way the younger man stood hulking over his father, Sam's anger filling the room, causing even Jack Simmons to hunch his shoulders in fearful submission.

His father's words were rushed, high, wavering. "He's….he's out of his head," his one hand raised to point toward Dean Winchester who leaned heavily against the china cabinet, giving the impression that the cabinet was the only thing stopping him from crumpling to the floor. "Came to talking…." Jack's eyes landed on Dean and he swallowed, "talking nonsense. You said the wolf…that it might be….maybe was….possessed by something evil. The wolf…I saw it, it's dead and now your brother…he isn't acting sane!"

Unnerved, Brent took a step backwards when Dean, as if to prove Jack's point, began to unleash the gibberish he had been uttering since he regained consciousness ten minutes ago. Dean Winchester's tone was harsh, his green eyes searing out a glare and part of Brent wished he understood what Dean was saying, what the possessed man thought he was saying. Brent knew some Spanish, some curse words in German, but what Dean Winchester now spoke was not either language, was nothing Brent had ever heard….well, except on one of those horror movies when someone got possessed, started speaking in tongues

Dean's brother's reaction, however, drew Brent's attention. The way the tall man stiffened at his brother's ravings, swung around to face his sibling, surprise, worry and fear flickering across his face before he swept it under a steady calm mask. Raising his hands in a gesture to ease the tension of his injured brother, Sam adopted a gentle timber in his words as he made an effort to soothe his possessed brother. "Dean, just calm down."

However, the words, the tone seemed to incite Dean, causing him to make a heated response, his trembling finger rising to point accusingly at Jack, his brows drawn together in righteous anger. Sam took the incomprehensive reply in stride, advanced a few measured steps toward his brother, worry creasing his features but there was no raging panic, no wild dash for some silver, no demands for garlic or whatever else repelled the possessed. Instead, Sam's next words were calmer, even gentler, almost as if he could guess at what his brother meant to say but somehow couldn't.

"No one's going to hurt you, Dean," the younger brother reassured, sneaking another step closer to his unhinged sibling.

Whatever Dean's reply was, it was spat out with increasing anger. A fire flickered in the injured man's eyes, overshadowing the gloss of pain, his chin jutting out to indicate Jack when his accusatory hand fell to his side under, Brent hazarded, an onslaught of exhaustive pain. Having been the one to pull Dean from the collapsed shed, Brent had gotten a real good look at the wounds that marred the man's body. It seemed a miracle that Dean could be on his feet right now, even awake. 'Maybe getting possessed heals you…gives you extra strength…' Brent mused, still wide eyed at the unbelievable scene unfolding in his very own living room.

Sam shifted on his feet, reminding Brent of the way he always acted when his own father was doling out a lecture that he deserved. "Dean…" Sam began and Brent watched Sam's face fill with remorse, worry and concern for his brother. Visibly swallowing, the younger Winchester gently pointed out, "Dean, you're covered in blood. Why don't we get you to a …"

Watching the older Winchester sibling adamantly shake his head, Brent needed no translation to the words that followed that motion, knowing they unmistakably were a stringent denial.

"Alright, no hospital, no doctor," Sam soothingly conceded, edging forward, closing the distance that separated him from his brother. "But I need to stitch you up, Dean, clean your wounds."

Likening Sam's tone of voice to a horse wrangler's, Brent had harbored the hope that Dean would lose the wild look of a cornered animal. But that hope was short lived when the eldest Winchester responded in a hard edged tone of gibberish, his hand again singling out Brent's father.

A pained flicker of a smile made an appearance on Sam's face, as he ran his hand through his hair. "Well, Dean, that's because you freaked him out, dude," Sam said, as if he could actually carry on a conversation with his insane brother.

Maybe it was his younger brother's fleeting sad, worried smile, maybe it was the vulnerability that even Brent could sense in Sam that broke through to Dean. The wild eyed look began to fade from the green eyes and when Dean unleashed more incomprehensive words, Brent, by Dean's gentle tone, would have sworn the words were meant to soothe Sam.

Finding his own muscles easing at the calmer tone of the crazed stranger, Brent was surprised to find Sam Winchester's stance had become rigid, as if he was bracing for some horrific reaction.

"You're….….Dean, well, ..you're speaking in Latin," Sam gently said, his remorse telegraphed by the tilt of his head even as he reached out a hand toward his brother's right shoulder. But Dean swatted the hand away in angry frustration, letting loose what could only be a protest …..in Latin.

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TBC

Author's Note: I'm not big on translations, or subtitles, or perfecting verb tenses of languages I speak let alone those I don't speak. That being said, if those things rank pretty highly with you, you probably don't want to continue reading this story because I have absolutely no intention of brushing up on my Latin, of littering the story with asterisks leading to translations or worrying about Dean saying words/phrases that don't exist in the Latin dictionary.

Instead, this story will play out like our American movies that are supposedly set in another country but the actors are all speaking English and the signs and documents are also in English. Assume Dean is speaking in Latin, (I'll let you know if (or do I mean when?) he reverts back to English) and just accept the foolish notion that Dean can still come out with Deanisms (how do you like that word?!) even with a long dead language. Yes, it's a stretch which is why I'm warning you now to leave your Latin dictionary and grammar rules in your other pants.

So, that being said, if you want to stick around for more of the tale, I would be delighted and honored.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.