DellaVie

Sam surveyed the room, making sure everything was in the right position. Sigils painted in both charcoal and chalk lined the splintered – and in some places peeling – walls of the decrepit house that Sam had chosen. A larger, more articulate design christened the floor in blood; candles surrounding its seven main points.

The ritual was specific, and it required fresh, human blood to work. This meant that Sam had donated a pint of his very own O-pos instead of liberating from the morgue. The hospital had crossed his mind, and disappeared just as fast. He wasn't about to steal from those in need for something that might not work.

He'd found the spell in an archaic text of dark and dangerous rituals that positively screamed, For God's sake, shut the friggin' book and walk away!

Of course, that didn't matter to Sam. Dean's time was running out, and Sam was beyond desperate to ensure that his brother didn't go to hell, especially for him.

Now, if only big bro' would feel the same way...

Sam lit the candles and started chanting the first part of the ritual. Dean's presence wasn't required until the end, which was exactly when Sam hoped he would show. He knew Dean would disagree with taking this road – hell, if it wasn't his brother's soul on the line, Sam would too – but Sam wasn't going to give Dean the chance to opt out. They were running out of time, and they hadn’t found any other way to save him.

Sam smiled grimly as he realised it must be a genetic Winchester trait to do whatever was necessary to save family.

When he finished the incantation, he stood by the edge of the symbol on the ground. One foot was dangerously close to crossing the line. The slight flicker of the candles was the only indication that his method was correct so far. He double-checked that everything else was in place, and then he waited.

A low rumbling announced the Impala's arrival, and Sam took a deep breath to brace himself for what was sure to be an ugly confrontation.

Footsteps ascended the creaking steps and a second later the front door groaned. "Sammy?"

"In here."

When Dean appeared in the living room archway, his expression shifted from confused to suspicious as he took in the candles and markings on the walls. "What's going on?"

"I found a way to save you."

Dean made no move to enter. "Oh?"

Sam nodded. "A spell."

"Where?"

That wasn't the next thing Sam was expecting from Dean "Huh?"

"Where did you find this miracle spell?"

"In a book."

"Sam," the warning was evident.

He sighed, exasperated. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. "What, Dean? I found a way to save you. Why don't you stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and just help me?"

"Because you won't tell me where you got it, or even what it is. I'm not likin' this Sam."

"You don't have to like it Dean." Maybe he could just push him in the circle...

Dean quelled his thoughts with a look. "Just tell me what it is."

"It's..." Sam ran a hand through his hair. His voice trailed off to a murmur.

"I'm sorry Sam, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said it's a spell for time travel."

Silence.

More silence.

A long, unending -

"You gotta be friggin' kiddin' me!"

"Look," Sam tried to explain, "your deal's up in four days-"

"Really Sam? I could've sworn it was next week," the sarcasm was so thick Sam could bottle and sell it.

"-And we have no plan, no way to save you. But if we go back to before you even made the deal-"

"Sam," Dean cut him off again. "We're not changing the past. Are you in-friggin'-sane? This is heavy duty crap that we don't need to go wading through. I'm not going back to find that because I sneezed, you died. Or I died. Or I'm married to Demi Moore. It's just not happening." He reconsidered. "Though, Demi is pretty hot..."

Sam brought him back on topic. "Look I'm not suggesting that we change the past. I'm just saying we go back, so we have more time to figure out a way out of it. We go back a few years to someplace we know we've never been, and work on it until we find a solution."

"Ah hell Sam, Why don't we just go back thirty years and live out the rest of our lives in the seventies?"

Sam paused. He hadn't considered that.

Dean saw his face. "Of course we're not going back, the hell's the matter with you?"

Sam looked up to Dean, but his words were silenced by Dean's resolute tone;

"We're not working on some half-assed idea to go friggin' time travelling. That's wrong on so many levels I can't even count that high. End of story. We'll work on something else."

He turned to leave the room, but stopped at the desperate plea in which Sam called his name.

When he looked Sam in the eye, his face hardened as his brother started chanting. "Sam, what are you doing? Cut it out!"

When Sam ignored him, Dean decided to make him stop the old-fashioned way.

What he didn't know was that Sam had already spoken the incantation, and he was now just muttering a Latin house-cleansing ritual. As soon as his foot landed over the sigil on the ground, he disappeared with a flash.

Sam knew that Dean would resort to the force, and had his foot hovering over the mark, ready to put down at the same time as Dean.

What he didn't know was that he was a second later than Dean. And in a spell that deals with time, it might make all the difference in the world.

[Onwards]