No brother of mine

Authors note to the readers of my other fics who came here by alert, hoping for a long due update on ‚Of killers and traitors' or « 'Price of trust'.

Okay, for all those waiting for me to continue my Snape and Saint Seiya Fics, don't get mad about me writing in another fandom. After partially recovering from cyperstalking, some fruitless tries to get back to my fics, I felt that I had to ease into writing by doing something completely new. Supernatural caught my eye a couple years ago and I've become at least as big a fan as I became for Saint Seiya and Snape (And I'm purposely not saying Harry Potter here, bleh) . But I will get back to my other fics eventually. What I once wrote, that I'll always finish my fics, still holds true, even if that may take years. I do apologize for the wait, though.

Authors note to all the dedicated Supernatural fans and don't most of us fall into this category ?

If you're reading this fic and don't like it, you can send my constructive critism, no problem, but please don't flame or cyberstalk. Been there, done that and didn't like it at all.

Even though I'm more leaning towards Sam, I still love Dean to pieces. If I like Sam, I have to like Dean, otherwise I don't get Sam at all. Still, in canon, Sam always was wrong for the right reasons and we got rubbed our noses into the wrong part again and again. Dean has mostly been written righteously right and barely ever had to really atone for HIS mistakes. He's been too harsh with Sam, not even trying to understand and he's been the same way with Cass now. (I often understood their POV better) I understand that he was betrayed and since he's human it would be arrogant to believe that he wouldn't lash out. Still, he should have learned with Sam, (and Sam should have been at least a bit insistent to tell him that, not standing by, taking Dean's word and reactions for granted. (God I miss old Sam). Anyhow. I wanted to write something where the coin is turned, while Dean isn't evil or nasty or even wrong, more than Sam has been in canon.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just abus...cough, playing...

Many thanks to UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable for her wonderful betaing job. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Chapter 1:

Burning alive had been painful, but not as agonizing as Mary would have imagined. Maybe it had been theshock or the fact that she'd already been in pain from the deep slash across her abdomen, but when it happened it'd been so fast that the numbness of death had caught up with her almost as soon as the inferno had. Still, the horror of the night, the fear for her family and the anger that her hunting past had caught up to her were still lingering inside her like a constructing weight around her heart when she took one desperate, starving breath. A breath, that brought Mary Winchester back to life.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

John remembered hell. An eternity of suffering and torture was hard to forget, after all. But he remembered the end of that suffering too. Somehow he had escaped, had returned to the mortal world and had had the chance to help his boys for the last time. After that, nothing. Until he woke up, laying eaglespreadon his back at the exact cemetery where he had escaped hell.

Somehow he was alive again. How, he had no idea. He sat up and raised his head. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, promising rain, the air hot and humid. John looked down at his own body. His clothes were the same he wore when he made the deal but the aches and pains still residue from the accident were gone. He felt fine. Better than fine, actually. With a huff of air he got to his feet. The joints that had started to protest after years of abuse under the driven hunting lifestyle moved smooth and painless. John smirked at that but the smirk made place to a confused frown in a second. What happened? How had he come back? And when? He had spend a long time in hell but the demons had told him that time there went different from upstairs. He turned around once, taking in his surroundings. His sons weren't here. Neither were any recent traces of a turmoil, which his sons would undoubtedly have left after their encounter with Azazel. He moved to the headstone, against which Sammy had been laying but the weeds there were undisturbed.

Worry started to gnaw at his insides, while he crouched down and rested his hand unconsciously against the grassy spot. Where were his boys? Were they okay? There had been so much going on prior to his death. Things that concerned his sons. He had known about the demon's plan for Sammy and his youngest'sstubbornness had made him fear and hope for the kid's chances to escape his destiny.

And then there was Dean. He knew he shouldn't have burdenedhimwith his last message but he had been desperate. The bond between his boys - rare and precious - would make Dean blind to any danger coming from Sam, should Sam ever fall victim to Azazel's influence. But Azazel was dead. Dean had killed him. Which meant Sam was free of his destiny... right? But Azazel had told him that there were more parties interested in Sammy. Bigger fish. Which was the reason why John told Dean what he did.

He sighed and got back to his feet. Searching his pockets he came up empty. Well. He just had to find a phone to call Dean or Sam and make sure that they both be okay.

With one final look around he started to walk out of the cemetery in search for civilization.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Mary was still under shock of being back alive so she didn't realize she wasn't alone, until a heavy hand settled on her shoulder. With a gasp she sat bolt upright, flinching back from the hand, looking up at a young man crouching at her side.

The stranger lifted his hands in a non-threatening way. "Easy. I don't wanna hurt you. You okay?"

Mary eyed the soft spoken stranger suspiciously. She couldn't place it but he did seem kind of familiar, even though she couldn't recall where she'd seen him before. He was no kid but still young. Mary placed him in his late twenties. His light brown, softly curling hair framed a handsome face. Light freckles were splattered across the back of his nose and his eyes shone in a gentle hazel. Mary's wariness didn't ease when she recognized the sheen of repressed tears in his eyes.

"Who are you?", she snapped with more aggression than intended.

The young man swallowed audibly and lowered his eyes: "My name is Lucas. But you know me under the name of Sam." He met her eyes again, determination shininginhisown. "I'm your son."

TBC