The Impala's tires screeched against asphalt as Dean slammed to a halt in front of the Salvatore Boarding House.
Emergency lights pulsed against the darkened windows, casting the Victorian structure in alternating red and blue.
"Come on," Dean barked, already halfway out of the car before the engine died.
Lucien scrambled after him, heart hammering against his ribs. Trevor Belmont met them on the porch, his face grim in the emergency lights.
"It's bad," Trevor said without preamble. "His heart stopped once already."
Through the open doorway, Lucien could see Sam pacing the foyer, hands raking through his hair again and again in desperation.
The scene inside was chaos – medical equipment crowded the east room, paramedics packing up supplies.
A doctor – middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and tired eyes – stood speaking quietly to Sam, shaking his head with the finality of someone delivering the worst possible news.
Lucien felt the despair saturating the room like a physical weight, pressing against his senses.
"What's happening?" Dean demanded, pushing past Trevor into the house.
"Dean," Sam's voice cracked. "The doctor was just explaining-"
"Mr. Winchester," the doctor interrupted, turning to Dean with practiced composure. "I'm Dr. Feldman. I've been monitoring your father's condition."
"And?" Dean's voice was razor-sharp.
Dr. Feldman's expression remained professionally neutral. "Multiple organ failure. His kidneys are shutting down, liver function severely compromised. Most concerning is his cardiac condition – we've had to resuscitate him once already."
The beeping of medical equipment punctuated the silence that followed, each tone a countdown to the seeming inevitable.
"His heart is failing," Dr. Feldman continued, his tone gentle but clinical. "Without life support, he has hours at most."
Dean began pacing, a caged animal unable to accept captivity. "That can't be right. There has to be something else you can do."
"We've administered the strongest medications available. The damage is simply too extensive." Dr. Feldman checked the monitors, adjusting a setting with practiced fingers. "I'm sorry. We've done everything medically possible."
"Then you're useless to us," Dean snapped, his voice rising. "Get out."
Dr. Feldman stepped back, startled. "Mr. Winchester-"
"Dean," Sam intervened, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "This isn't helping."
"I understand this is difficult," Dr. Feldman said quietly. "I'll give you some privacy. Call when... when it's time. We can make him comfortable."
Trevor moved forward, guiding the medical personnel toward the door. "I'll show them out."
Zach Salvatore hovered in the background, his face drawn with concern. "If there's anything you need..."
"Thank you," Sam replied automatically, his attention already back on his Dad.
The family gathered around John's bed, the hum of medical equipment a constant reminder of their father's fragility. John lay unconscious, aged beyond recognition, each breath a visible struggle.
"There has to be something," Dean muttered, resuming his pacing. "Some spell, some deal..."
"We've tried everything, Dean," Sam said, his voice hollow with exhaustion. "Every contact, every ritual..."
Trevor returned, his expression grim. "The Dark Spear's damage is extensive. It didn't just take years from him – it took his vital essence."
Zach cleared his throat. "I'll give you some privacy. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
As Zach's footsteps faded, Lucien stepped forward. "I want to try something."
All eyes turned to him.
"I think I can use my abilities to draw life energy from the surroundings – from plants, the earth – and transfer it to Dad."
Sam and Dean exchanged quick, wary glances.
Lucien knew they recognized what he was suggesting – using the Dark Side, the destructive aspect of the Force. Not evil, but dangerous nonetheless.
Dean's reaction was immediate. "No way, Lu. That's too dangerous, what if you mess up? Both you and Dad then would be in bad shape, what will we be doing then?"
Trevor listened intently, his brow furrowed. "Life force transference... a rare and dangerous psychic ability. Didn't know you had it kid. You're even stronger than I thought."
"Then I won't mess up," Lucien countered Dean.
As Dean tried to open his mouth to retort, Sam interrupted, "What exactly would you do, Lucien?" he asked, his voice tight. "How would it work?"
Lucien chose his words carefully, aware of Trevor's being there, he trusted the guy a lot, just not with this. "I can pull energy from living things around us and channel it into Dad. It's... something I've been practicing."
"Wait, is that what caused you to collapse a week ago, and become nearly as gray as a fucking corpse in a morgue? And you want us to let you do that again - this time even more dangerous, for both you AND Dad? Hell no!"
"I don't think we have any other options Dean," Sam said suddenly, "We can't let Dad die," he said his gaze shifting between his brothers. "We have to trust Lucien. It's risky for him, but it doesn't matter for Dad since he's already going to die if nothing is done. We just have no other option."
The brothers stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. Finally, Dean's shoulders slumped.
"If anything goes wrong, you stop immediately," he said, his voice rough. "Promise me. I don't know how I'd face Dad when I die, if I have to salt and burn you both today."
Lucien nodded, understanding how Dean based his entire life and identity around taking care of his brothers - especially Sam - knowing though that he might have to break that promise. "I need space. And quiet."
Trevor helped arrange the room, moving equipment to create a clear area around John's bed. His expression had shifted from concern to watching Lucien with newfound interest.
"You've done this before?" he asked, as he positioned a chair.
"Not really," Lucien answered.
Sam positioned John's bed centrally, checking the medical monitors. He exchanged another quick glance with Dean.
"I need candles," Lucien said, removing his jacket. "As many as you can find, fire has a lot of life in it."
Trevor nodded. "I'll get them."
After a long moment of silence Trevor returned with an armful of candles, placing them around the room at Lucien's direction.
The family stepped back as Lucien took position beside John's bed, placing his hands above his father's chest, not quite touching.
The room grew still as everyone held their breath.
Lucien closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself for the Dark Side of the Force.
The sensation was immediate – cold, powerful, seductive, humming with immense potential. Unlike the Light, which flowed gently, the Dark Side surged through him raw and intense.
The air in the room grew heavy, temperature dropping drastically. The candle flames flickered wildly, stretching and contorting as if pulled by invisible hands.
Lucien began drawing power from the surrounding life – from the fire and potted plants throughout the room. The plants visibly withered, their leaves curling, flowers drooping, color draining from them and the fire as the life force within was pulled away.
Things began to die around him.
Shadowy energy gathered around his hands, crackling. Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances.
"He's drawing from the entire neighbourhood!" Trevor muttered, impressed and alarmed.
The medical equipment began to malfunction, readings going haywire before flatlining completely. Lucien's face showed immense strain, sweat beading on his forehead despite the frigid air.
John's monitors – now dead – showed no change, but his breathing seemed to fluctuate wildly. Lucien pushed harder, drawing more power from the dying flora, till his nose and ears began to bleed.
The life energy screeched in his mind, rejecting him, angry, attacking him at being stolen.
"Lu, you're pushing too hard!" Dean shouted, stepping forward. "Stop!"
Lucien ignored him, focused entirely on the task, his entire being locked onto the vast reservoir of energy he was trying to control.
'Come on, you stupid fucking spear, give up,' Lucien muttered in his mind.
The energy between his hands pulsed, unstable, crackling like black lightning.
Sam held Dean back. "Give him a chance, Dean! It's working!"
Suddenly A dark screech was heard in Lucien's mind, as with a sound like tearing fabric, the Dark Spear's life draining soul contract with John was destroyed by Lucien.
'Finally!' Lucien thought joyful.
But the forceful destruction of something ruled as sacred by Creation has consequences.
On a cosmic scale.
The power released from the contract's destruction rebounded against Lucien, throwing him backward against the distant wall faster than everyone's eyes could see.
"No, wait-" Lucien gasped, as God's rules, tore into his body.
Every light in the house simultaneously exploded, glass shattering as bulbs burst. Electronic equipment throughout the house failed, including John's life support.
'Fuck!' Lucien thought to himself as he grit his teeth. 'I thought this may happen, but I didn't think it would be this fucking bad! Damn you Billie and your vague fucking explanations about cOsmIc ConsEquEncEs!' and slid down from the cracked wall onto the ground.
Complete, oppressive darkness has engulfed the house, thick and absolute.
"Lucien!" Dean shouted, his voice raw with fear.
For, for everyone else, a moment Lucien was there, and the next he completely disappeared and everything went dark.
"I can't find him!" Sam called back, fumbling in the darkness.
"Dad's not breathing!" Dean's voice was panicked as he reached John's bedside.
Sam rushed to check John's pulse in the darkness. "I can't feel it!"
"Everyone stay calm!" Trevor's voice, though steady, carried an edge of urgency. He moved carefully through the darkness, feeling his way along the wall. "I brought an oil lamp just in case. All I need to do is find it."
In the chaos, no one noticed the faint sound of Lucien dragging himself across the floor. Blood trickled from his nose, his ears, his mouth – injuries from the violent rebound.
"Come on, Dad," Dean was saying, the sounds of desperate CPR filling the room. "Don't do this. Not now."
Lucien reached the bedside, unnoticed by his brothers. "I won't let you die," he whispered.
But he knew that the situation was basically hopeless.
He was in no state to force the world to give up its life with his powers.
--------------------
Six-year-old Lucien hid in his closet.
He didn't want to see Dad today. Dad always looked sad when he looked at Lucien, and Lucien didn't want to make him sad anymore.
"Lucien?" John's voice called, searching the house alongside Kate after he, her and Adam, talked for around 30 minutes since he arrived. "Where are you, buddy?"
The closet door opened, light spilling in. John crouched down, his face puzzled. "What are you doing in here?"
"Nothing," Lucien mumbled, looking down.
"This is the second time you've hidden when I've come to visit," John said gently. "Are you mad at me?"
Lucien shook his head.
"Then what is it?"
"You get sad when you see me," Lucien whispered. "I don't want to make you sad. You have more important things to do, right?"
John's face went down at what Lucien said. He knew what his son most likely was referring to - the internal sorrow at Mary being gone, and the guilt at being here, while not being with Sam and Dean. Keeping both sets of sons apart.
"See, that's what I mean," Lucien suddenly said.
John hearing this immediately made sure to push that aside. He reached into the closet, gathering Lucien into his arms. "You could never make me sad, Lucien." he said softly, "You're important - more important than any job. It's a father's job to take care of his sons."
---------------------
As the memory flashed in his mind, Lucien was tired.
He's for weeks been worrying, worrying about his Dad dying.
The Dad who was there as much as he could be.
The Dad who always made sure he felt safe.
Who accepted his son even after his transformation and the bringing of more problems than ever to their family.
The Dad who time and time again put his life on the line to protect his sons - even the son who caused the problem, evil magnet that he was - and is now nearly dying because he sacrificed his own life force to protect them.
Lucien... loves his Dad.
And that love, made it so, he couldn't accept this.
The boy who quietly was taking in breath and slowly releasing it, to regain as much energy as he could, placed his hands directly on his father's chest.
He shifted from the Dark Side, to the Light.
Reaching for something else - something warm, and pure, not angry.
Something his own.
'Well... If I die, I die. I'll figure something out later. I just got to... bet on my importance. I know Fate and I have quite the bitch of a relationship, but...' Lucien thought to himself.
He wasn't completely optimistic. Death said his 'continued existence' was necessary.
Nothing about him being alive being necessary.
But like hell that was going to stop him.
He'll claw out of Heaven or Hell, or wherever if necessary later.
For now, he can't let his Dad's soul get into the hands of Heaven, and most definitely not their archangels. No deal was getting that one back.
-----------------------
"Dad! Dad!" Seven-year-old Lucien raced down the stairs, nearly colliding with John in the hallway. "You came! Mom said you might be too busy!"
John grinned, presenting a wrapped package. "Miss my son's birthday? Not a chance."
Lucien tore open the paper, revealing a baseball glove. "Awesome!"
"Thought we could play catch in the backyard," John suggested.
Later, as they tossed the ball back and forth, Lucien noticed a flash of sadness cross his father's face when he mentioned how much fun it would be to play with friends.
"Dad? Who's missing?" Lucien asked innocently.
John's throw faltered, the ball landing short. "Missing? What's missing?"
"Sometimes you look sad when you look at me. Like you're missing someone."
---------------------
A faint golden glow formed between Lucien's hands, unseen in the darkness. The energy flowed from him into John, his own strength visibly diminishing.
---------------------
Eight-year-old Lucien and John lay on a blanket in the backyard, stargazing. Adam had fallen asleep between them, his small chest rising and falling peacefully.
"See that one?" John pointed. "That's Orion. The hunter."
"Like you," Lucien said sleepily.
John was quiet for a long moment. "What do you wish for, Lucien? If you could have anything?"
Lucien thought about it. "A dog, maybe. Mom says we can't have one 'cause of Adam's allergies."
"That's a good wish." John's voice was distant, his eyes reflecting starlight.
"What do you wish for, Dad?"
John's answer was so quiet Lucien barely heard it. "For my whole family to be safe and together."
---------------------
Blood continued to trickle from Lucien's nose, his ears, his mouth, and other poures and wounds, unseen in the profound darkness.
He grew weaker but pushed harder, determined.
---------------------
Seven-year-old Lucien lay in bed, feverish and miserable. The phone rang, and he heard his mother answer.
"John? No, he's really sick... I know it's important, but... alright, I'll tell him."
She appeared in the doorway. "Your dad says he's sorry but he has to work. He'll try to visit next week instead."
Lucien nodded, too sick to hide his disappointment.
Hours later, he woke to find John sitting beside his bed, cool hand on his forehead.
"Dad? Thought you had work. Hunt with your friends."
"Nothing more important than this," John said, helping him sip water. "Try to sleep, buddy."
Lucien drifted off, his small hand in John's larger one. Sometime in the night, he half-woke to hear John murmuring in his sleep. "Mary... boys... I'm sorry..."
---------------------
The life force transfer accelerated, Lucien's breathing becoming labored. His legs weakened, dropping to his knees beside the bed to continue.
Lucien's injuries from the rebound worsened as he pushed his limits. Blood pooled beneath him, still unseen in the darkness.
The Force changed everything. After that night, John became different – more distant, less the gentle father and more the drill sergeant.
---------------------
Twelve-year-old Lucien stood in Bobby's salvage yard, John circling him with critical eyes.
"Again," John ordered as Lucien completed the disassembly of a shotgun. "Faster this time."
No praise, no encouragement. Just expectations and corrections.
John's color improved slightly in the darkness, his breathing steadying. Lucien's condition deteriorated rapidly, skin growing ashen.
"You need to understand every weapon, every defense," John explained, arranging knives on the table. "The things that might come for you won't show mercy because you're young."
Lucien nodded, absorbing the lesson. He was his true self now, having regained his first life's memories, but some part of him did miss the father who used to ruffle his hair and call him "buddy."
---------------------
Sam noticed John's pulse strengthening under his fingers. "Dean! He's coming back!"
Lucien poured the last of his strength into the transfer.
John gasped suddenly, his eyes flying open. "Mary!" he called out, reaching toward something only he could see, as if she stood just beyond their sight, on the threshold between worlds.
Lucien collapsed, his body giving out completely as the transfer completed.
A warm glow suddenly illuminated the room as Trevor finally lit the oil lamp.
And everything was to be seen.
John Winchester, miraculously, impossibly awake and alert, his face restored, his breathing deep and even.
Then they noticed the redness
As they looked down they saw - Lucien laying crumpled on the floor beside the bed, his skin ashen, a dark, growing pool of crimson soaking the carpet beneath him.
Everyone needed a moment to process, before Dean immediately went to action.
"Lu!" he snapped as his attention from his Dad to his little brother, his voice a strangled gasp of horror. He lunged forward, dropping to his knees beside his younger brother.
Trevor set the lamp safely on a nearby table, rushing to Lucien as well. He cradled the boy, his own eyes widening at the sight of the blood. "His body is nearly empty! He's barely alive!"
"Oh my god, Lucien!" Sam, who had been frantically checking John's pulse, looked up, his face a mask of shock and dawning horror.
John, disoriented, pushed himself up in bed, his eyes clearing. He looked at his own restored hands, then at his healthy body, then at Lucien's pale, bloodied form. "Lucien? What... what did he do?"
He was still groggy, tired, and confused, still processing.
"He used his abilities," Sam explained frantically, his own mind working to find out what happened. "He- He most likely gave his own life energy to you."
Dean cradled Lucien's head, his voice raw with desperate fear. "You stupid, stubborn kid! Why did you do this?"
John stumbled from the bed, as he finally processed. He dropped to Lucien's side, his eyes filled with terror. "No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening!"
Sam rushed to find medical supplies.
John took Lucien's limp hand in his own, his voice thick with emotion. "Hold on, son. Just hold on."
The distant, unmistakable sound of the boarding house's front door bursting open cut through everything.
Everyone froze, attention momentarily diverted from Lucien's crisis.
Trevor's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his weapon, his eyes fixed on the doorway.
Dean tightened his protective hold on Lucien, his gaze snapping towards the sound.
Sam returned with medical supplies, stopping dead in the doorway, his eyes wide.
John too focused on Lucien still bleeding in his arms, causing his white clothes to redden, couldn't even bother to look away from his pale, dying son.
The rhythmic click of high heels on the hardwood floor began, approaching confidently, deliberately.
"We have company," Trevor whispered, barely audible.
"Not now," Dean growled, frustration and desperation filling his voice. "Whoever it is can wait."
The footsteps stopped just outside the room. A moment of heavy, pregnant silence.
Katherine Pierce appeared in the doorway. She took in the scene – John's restored form, the desperate faces of his sons, the pale, bloodied boy in Dean's arms.
A slow, knowing - actually forced - smile spread across her face. She took one elegant step into the room, a small vial of golden liquid glinting in her hand under the lamp's light.
"Well," Katherine said, her voice smooth as silk, "isn't this a touching family moment." Her gaze flickered from John's recovered state to Lucien's dying body. "It seems I've arrived just in time."
------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.
Do tell me how you found it.
So... Lucien's actions. Yeah, life force drain and giving life force to someone else, isn't the easiest, nor best idea, since that life force is full of rebellion, and hatred, but in this case, that wasn't the big problem.
It was the contract. The soul contract between John and the DarkSpear.
In supernatural season 12 or 13, don't remember which exactly Billie said that a deal bound in blood being forcefully broken has cosmic consequences.
So well, this happened.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you all later.
Do tell me what you think Katherine's gonna ask for her help.
Bye!)