SPN Fic: The Lost and the Last (1/1)

[bowtrunckle]

Title: The Lost and the Last
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,359
Warnings: brother angst
Summary: This is the story of how things came to be.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any part of the Supernatural universe.
A/N: For Zazreil as a result of this 2009 gift meme. I hope angst is up your alley, Zaz! :) To everyone else on the gift list: I’m determined to give all the gifts before the year is out, so keep your eyes peeled for weird, scary things with your names on it! *glee*

It’s just a story. Legend. A tale of a long ago time when things were different. When life was paved with luxury and the water was clean and the sky was blue. When men walked free and what lived in the shadows was still a mystery. It’s a story of love, of family, of sacrifice. Of all the things the world has forgotten. But more importantly, it’s the story of how things came to be.

It starts as most legends do: with a great loss. It was the mother, Mary, three drops of blood, and a baptism of fire that began it all. Out of the ashes rose what would become humanity’s holy trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Chosen One. Through determination, loyalty, and love, the family minus one remade itself. The two sons—raised on the smell of gun oil and leather and the back draft of highway grit—grew strong at the hands of the Father. Driven by equal parts of justice and vengeance, they became an army of three, humanity’s unknowing gatekeepers, holding back the dark.

But like all tales of tragedy, they fell. The Father first, sacrificing himself for his sons, for the future, leaving the pair of brothers lost. As the Son and the Chosen One watched flame take everything they’d known, they stared into the face of the dark and together they grew into something stronger. Broad shouldered and young, with a single-mindedness born only by the desperate, they continued to do what they believed to be right, to do what they’d been taught: to defend those who could not, to defend one another. But the years wore them thin and rendered them without anyone else. Each unwilling to stand alone, they sacrificed themselves when the other fell, first one and then the other. But each time they were saved, and each time the Son and the Chosen One were made new until finally their steps matched and they were one in mind and action.

Once again they walked tall and proud and the years were on their side. They fought for each other. Back to back—one with guns and shadow wings and the other with a knife and raised palms—they stood squared off against the future. But they couldn’t unmake what had been divined. Angels died, demons smiled, enemies conspired, and battles became war. The dark began to stir.

Then it happened as it does in all stories; a great betrayal rendered the brothers separate. Some think it was done out of fear or love turned hate or for the greater good. Others argue it was an act of desperation. Others believe it was and act of love. But what is for certain is that one brother, the Chosen One, learned he was to become the harbinger of The End. Knowing his brother would fight and die for him, he disappeared, leaving all behind except for an ancient gun and a single silver bullet, one of a pair.

And the remaining brother was left to fight alone.

The left behind brother, the Son—who was made in the image of the Father and carried the Father’s determination and love for family—turned his mind’s eye turned inward, focused on the single thought that all stopped until he found his missing brother. He searched the miles and mountains, the space between spaces, and wandered to the fringes of the known but could not find him. Years passed. The Son turned his back to the fight, to angels, to demons, to himself. Eventually the demons mysteriously fell silent, the angels folded their wings and slept. The End never came. All thought disaster had been averted, that the Chosen One had taken his own life and saved all else. And as the world quietly celebrated, the Son—with no brother left to keep—lost his heart and mind and became the Lost Brother.

Time marched on. The few that knew of the brothers passed, and the brothers' existence died in the minds of men. But a shadow of one still wandered the corners of Earth, chasing spirits, summoning the departed, and searching the edges of the dark. The Lost Brother’s search for his brother became the search for his brother’s gun. It was said he carried the second of the two silver bullets, and the day he would find the gun, he would slide his silver bullet into the chamber as his brother did, he would wrap his finger around the trigger as his brother did, and he’d raise the gun to his head as his brother did. His final thoughts would what be his brother’s were, and once again they’d be joined in mind and action.

A rebel angel, one of the once fallen, stood alone in silent watch. He saw the Lost Brother’s grief and desperation, saw how wild and dangerous he had grown and thought This cannot be. The angel felt a great sadness. He laid down his dark wings and streaked golden and bright across the heavens. The angel appeared to the brother and from beneath his cloak he drew the gun left in his care. Rest, said the angel.

Through his madness, the Lost Brother recognized his brother’s gun and fell to his knees. His body shook, but his hand was steady as his fingers found the trigger and he closed his eyes. Then there was only a smile and the words Thank you.

The angel wiped a single tear from the brother’s still face and laid his fingers on the brother’s forehead. There was a great white light. As the Lost brother’s blood pooled red and thick in the dust, the Chosen One—who had hidden himself in the corners of humanity—felt a pain in his forehead. In a great white light the angel appeared and spoke of how he was no longer the Chosen One but now the Last Brother. From beneath his cloak he drew the gun. Rest, said the angel. And when the light faded the angel was no longer, leaving Earth and his love for the two brothers for the last time.

The Last Brother rushed to his brother’s side. And seeing what had happened, what he’d done, he threw his head back and screamed. The demons heard. They shrieked, clawed their way past earthen gates, and the day became thick with black. The angels heard. After years of sleep they opened their eyes, stretched their shadow wings, and took to the skies. Everywhere angels and demons fought as if the battle had never ceased. The land burned. The seas boiled. The skies closed in on themselves. The End began.

And the remaining brother was left to fight alone.

As he watched flame take everything he’d known, the Chosen One—now the Last Brother—finally understood. The Son, the Lost Brother, had stopped the demons in his single-minded search, and that he, himself, had stopped the angels with his absence. He realized he was the Chosen One not because he was chosen to begin the The End but because he was the one with the choice that would determine what could be. And as the world collapsed around him, he held his brother, letting the blood stain his unused silver bullet, the first of two. The Last Brother picked up his gun. His body shook, but his hand was steady as his fingers found the trigger and he closed his eyes. Then there was only a single tear and the words I’m sorry, Sammy.

And the brothers were once again joined in mind and action.

It was just a story. Legend. A tale of a long ago time when things were different. When life was paved with luxury and the water was clean and the sky was blue. When men walked free and what lived in the shadows was still a mystery. It was a story of love, of family, of sacrifice. Of all the things the world has forgotten. But more importantly, it was the story of how things came to be. This was the story of two brothers who were the Lost and the Last in The End.

Comments

[zazreil.livejournal.com]

Thank you for my story. I love the legendary/biblical feel of it. I must admit that you had me, that I thought the Lost Brother was Dean and that the Chosen One was Sam until you wrote that the Chosen One searched for his brother's gun - and then it was a jaw drop

Zaz

[bowtrunckle.livejournal.com]

You're very welcome! I'm glad the style was okay (it was slightly strange to write).

I thought the Lost Brother was Dean and that the Chosen One was Sam

It would seem that way, wouldn't it? Dean seems to be the one chosen to be the "free choice" man and Sam is very much John's son, esp. after what we saw in "JtS". It's interesting that their roles can be looked at in different ways, that different aspects of their personalities satisfy both descriptions.

[zazreil.livejournal.com]

Oh and when did you find time to write with a new baby? Makes it even more special

Zaz

[bowtrunckle.livejournal.com]

Oh, here and there. :) It's amazing what happens when you park your laptop next to the nursing chair. Also, I've become very proficient at typing one handed!

[hugemind.livejournal.com]

DUDE. Myths, legends, EPICNESS. AWESOMENESS. \o/
And I'm tearing up now, because *meep* boys.

I also thought that Sam was the Chosen One, although I did suspect that it might not be the case. Sneaky you. ;) Loved the narrator voice, too.

Man, this really hit the spot! I adore stuff with myths and actually, when I wandered around a bookstore today, trying to find something to read, I realized that it's the time of year when I want to reread American Gods. So I was already really in the mood for something like this!

[bowtrunckle.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm glad the narrator's voice didn't throw you out of the story. With the exception of a few fics, I've not read stuff in this fandom written in this style.

I have yet to read American Gods *hides*. I'm hoping my focus and concentration come back SOON so I can tolerate reading anything longer than magazine articles again. Maybe Santa will bring it back for X-mas. ;)

[erinrua.livejournal.com]

You has ficced! You are the most awesomest fan-mommy ever!

Plus it's a very nice piece. :-) I love the lyrical, poetic, marvelously mythic feel to this, as if someone were reciting a beloved legend to others far ahead in time. I especially like that the sense of distance and history is wrapped in hope, that somehow our boys made things right, and this legend is their legacy.

Yeah. *purrs* You do good. In all that spare time you must have, lol. Hugs to you and kisses to the wee one! :-)

[bowtrunckle.livejournal.com]

You has ficced!

I has! What a major surprise! :D

I especially like that the sense of distance and history is wrapped in hope, that somehow our boys made things right, and this legend is their legacy.

I just adore the idea of a Winchester legacy, one that's told in the dark to wide-eyed hunters to be. I like to think that even if our boys go down together in the end *wibble* Bobby would make sure their story wouldn't be forgotten. And that's as much as I want to think about Sam and Dean's futures and the end of SPN. Let's hope Kripke sends them off good.

In all that spare time you must have, lol.

Let's just say I'm getting well acquainted with my couch and TV shows on DVD and online. I'm currently working out a way to negotiate a sleeping baby such that I have both hands free to type because I can only sit and passively watch so much TV.

Hugs to you and kisses to the wee one! :-)

*hugs back*

[borgmama1of5.livejournal.com]

Wow. That's all I can think to say...This is going to take time to absorb. Amazing yet logical twist at the end.

And so sad...

[bowtrunckle.livejournal.com]

Thanks for leaving your thoughts! Sad is the way of the Winchester world. :( However, I hope in the show this is NOT how it ends; I'm all for happy-ish endings for those boys.