[Fic] The Most Cursed Name, pt 5
The Most Cursed Name
A Supernatural Story
Rating: R (Language, Violence), Gen
Betas: quakerhobbit, caladria
Warnings/Tags: Season 4, demon blood, discussions of hell, possession
Written for
spnaufestival
Part Five
He has a first row fucking seat to this shit storm, and he's not going to fucking take it sitting down. Sammy's putting up a decent fight, and Dean tries to will Sammy to use some of the moves Dean taught him, hit him with a right, Sammy, distract him! But this demon can hear everything Dean is thinking and uses it against Sam, and Dean hates the fucking satanic son of a bitch even more for that. And then he hears what it tells Sam.
"I got an all access pass. I know everything. How he screamed for you to save him, damned you for failing. Oh, yours is the most cursed name in all of hell, Sammy."
Shut up.
"But the best is how he hated himself for picking up the blade himself-"
Shut up!
"I only wish it'd lasted longer, that self-hatred. Hatred turned into pleasure so fast-"
"Shut up!" And Sam is up, and Dean is cheering, but if they get out of this, he has to remember to put a bandaid on that. He can tell Sam is taking it to heart. He believes this demon. He believes this demon and Dean needs for him to not (too bad it's true, isn't it my boy, Alastair says into his ear).
Sam tries the exorcism, and yeah, that's the first thing Dean would have tried too. Luckily, Sam figures out about the lock way sooner than Dean had, and he cheers when Sam says come and see, even though Dean knows Sam, Dean knows Sam doesn't have it in him. God he wishes the kid could do it, but Sam won't kill Dean, Dean will be cursed to have killed Sam with his own hands, even if this demon gets kicked out somehow, he will always have killed his own brother, and he's resigned to that as his due for being everything the demon told Sam he was - a killer, a torturer, sickeningly good at it and happy about that. Except that no matter how resigned he is to living with Sam's death on his hands, the fact remains that Sam will be dead and he wills Sam to not make the Sam choice here, to take one for the team and send Dean and this demon back where they belong.
And the demon hears his thoughts, the demon knows Sam doesn't have the stones to kill Dean, so fuck fuck, fuck this demon for making Dean watch, fuck this demon for eavesdropping and being able to call Sam's bluff-
Except that it isn't a bluff, and Sam's going to go for the exorcism again. When his knife slices through the mark on Dean's arm, something comes undone in Dean, something freeing, something open, and the demon is vulnerable now, its grip on Dean is more tenuous. Dean's feeling through this new open feeling for chinks in the demon's grip when Sam's scream tears through him.
Sam is laying back, limp, bruises are already forming at his jawline. Dean can recognize it from experience. Sam's going to have a hell of a time making a coherent exorcism, but it can be done, Dean's congratulating him as Sam makes an attempt, but-
Dean goes cold as he watches his own hands reach for Sam's face. Dean can sense what is going to happen. No, he screams. No no no no-
-the terror in Sam's eyes as Dean's hands pry open his dislocated jaw, with a swipe of Dean's pocketknife, blood is everywhere and Sam is choking on it, and Dean's body sits back even as Dean fights and fights and beats against his cage. Sam's tongue drops to the ground next to his head.
Fuck. Fuck, bastard!
Sam is limp. Staring at the ceiling, blinking slow. Dean's body leans over him again. "Come on Samantha. Don't give up on me now, kid. I thought you were stronger than that. Seems like your reputation's gotten a little out of hand."
Sam blinks up at Dean then, looks him right in the eye, and Dean can feel the blade against his neck. The demon freezes, Dean can see the desperation in Sam's eyes. He's afraid he can't do it, he's trying to talk himself into it, he's trying to reach Dean.
I'm here, Sammy, he thinks. I'm not going anywhere, little brother. He rails against his cage, he gathers strength from the knife's edge pressed against his throat, he pulls on every bit of rage he's got - at himself for giving in in Hell, for letting himself be vulnerable to this demon, at Sam for letting himself get so caught up in revenge, at Bobby for not watching the kid, at the universe for being just generally terrible, and then-
-he's through.
"Sammy do it, do it. Don't you let me kill you goddammit. Sammy!" and that last word is choked with anguish and desperation and Sam mouths:
I'm sorry.
"Sam Sam Sam-"
But the demon is back in charge now and it pushes Dean back down with enough force Dean can't even see what's going on anymore. Just Sam mouthing sorry over and over in his memory. Sam can't kill him. Sam can't do it. Fuck. Somehow, he's going to have a nice long fucking talk with this kid, if he has to pull a million favors from the god squad themselves to talk to Sam in the afterlife.
But now he's blinded and he's deafened and he can't see what's happening, what his body is doing, what is happening to Sam, although it seems like the demon wants to keep Sam alive. And Dean would sure as shit like to know why, by the way. If the demon lets Sam live through this, maybe there'll be another chance for Sam to get the upper hand, although without a tongue - fuck his little brother's tongue has just been cut out - it'll be hard to do an exorcism. He'll have to get the balls to kill Dean. God.
He can't help but think about the situation as temporary. When he gets free of the demon, when Sam is able to exorcize him, when Bobby can find them and save them both, when Sam gets medical attention and his freaking tongue grows back - but Sam's sorry means Sam isn't thinking in whens. He's thinking in ifs. If they get out of this, Sam will feel guilty for almost killing Dean, or for not being able to kill him - Dean isn't sure which will be worse, but he's sure Sam will feel both ways at the same time. A particular skillset Sam is great at.
He pushes outward again. He has to see if Sam's okay. He has to know. The demon isn't paying attention to him anymore, focused on Sam. So Dean can feel himself walking around the room now. Can feel the demon talking now, saying nothing of consequence. Dean is trying to make himself look at Sam, but he can't. The demon laughs as it intentionally keeps Sam just out of Dean's eyeline.
Get up, Sam. Get up, kid. Please, Sammy, please. You gotta kill this fucker, please please please-
And then the demon freezes. There's a fire starting up in this vast oppressive space Dean is trapped in. It heats up quick, shoots down Dean's veins like whatever sulfur in them this demon has brought with it is getting gathered up and burnt out, like a fever killing the bug. The demon coughs, spins toward Sam, drops to its knees.
Sam's name comes out of Dean's throat, full of revulsion and promise, but the demon can't make good, because Dean is fighting too now, to get control. Black flows from Dean's mouth and down, heavy smoke, drifting low and sinking into the floor, singing the carpet, and Dean is surrounded by the glow of embers and the stink of sulfur and his voice is still chanting Sam, Sam but it's his voice now, it's all him and it's all desperate and afraid and pleading, Sam, Sam.
Dean scrambles over to Sam's body. Sam is laying limp on the floor, Dean reaches out to maybe touch him, find a pulse or something, and Sam's back arches, his fingers claw, he's having a fit, and Dean doesn't know what to do.
"Tell me what to do, Sammy," Dean says, weeps almost.
"Leave him be," Bobby says, and Dean whirls around. His knife is out before he registers the door's open and shut already, and it's Bobby talking, and when he realizes he's pulled a knife on Bobby, he's pulled a knife already covered in Sam's blood on Bobby, he throws it away and falls back onto his ass, staring at his hands.
"You just back away from him now, go on Dean."
"Bobby, I didn't - oh fuck."
Bobby has a gun in his hand and he gestures with it. "Go on now, I said."
Dean's brain stalls for half a second and then he says, "Bobby goddammit I was possessed. Oh god, all those times I - You gotta help him Bobby."
Bobby lowers the gun, looks Sam over. "I'm keepin' my eye on you anyhow," he says, and pulls out a flask of holy water to flick Dean with. When Dean doesn't sizzle, he looks annoyed. "Well, either you're lying 'bout being possessed or Sam's already exorcized yer ass."
Dean nods, dazed. "Uh, second one."
"Right," Bobby says, unconvinced. He drops his back on the floor and kneels next to Sam a minute, taking vitals and shoving a pillow under his head until the shaking stops. "Okay, come on, son. We gotta get him on the bed."
Dean comes forward on auto-pilot, takes Sam at the shoulders.
"So Sam exorcized ya, huh? Using his..." Bobby waggles his head a little, apparently to signify psychic mojo, and heat rushes through Dean, anger.
"What was he supposed to do, Bobby? Let me kill him? The bastard cut out his tongue."
"What?" Bobby looks down at Sam's bloody face in horror. "Help me get him on his side." When Dean doesn't move immediately, Bobby says, "So he don't choke on the blood, boy, hurry up."
Dean takes over arranging Sam onto his side while Bobby retrieves the first aid kit.
"Any idea what the demon wanted?"
Dean shakes his head. "No. Bobby, he needs a hospital."
"Let me take a look." Bobby reaches for Sam's face.
"Dont fucking touch him," Dean says.
Bobby freezes, gives him the weirdest look, like maybe Dean's losing it, or still possessed, or-
"Just. His jaw's dislocated. I - I, it. Uh. Didn't want him exorcising it. It was gonna keep me, Bobby." Dean displays his arm, still bleeding from Sam's slice through the locking symbol. "I woulda. Uh."
"Okay. Calm down. Everything's fine now, right?"
"No, everything's not fucking fine, Bobby! Sam's - he couldn't - Sam's-"
"Breathe you idjit." Bobby turns back to Sam, but in deference to Dean's worries, he handles Sam's face gently, prods around his ears, nods. "I can relocate it. Hell, you can relocate it, I know you can. But you're probably right. Kid needs a hospital."
Dean sinks to the floor, nodding. "It cut his fucking tongue out, Bobby," he says again. He's not sure why it's the most important thing in this whole mess. It's really damn fucked up, but Sam's alive, and Dean's alive. Yeah, maybe Sam's agony is the most important thing in this whole mess.
"No you didn't, Dean," Bobby is saying. Dean looks up at him, bewildered.
"What?"
"I said you didn't cut his tongue out."
"I didn't say-"
"You said, I cut his- Damn it boy, don't you pass out on me."
Dean nods again, the room dims around him. But Sam needs him. "Bobby," he slurs. "How'd you get here so fast anyway?"
"He appears to be unconscious."
"Of course he's unconscious, you idjit."
Bobby looks Castiel, Angel of the Holy Whatsit, up and down. Not exactly instilling a sense of wonder standing there in a trench coat and messy hair. Maybe the wonder came part and parcel with the light show.
"I can wake them both-"
"Sam first. Dean needs the rest. And he don't need to see one more second of this." He gestures to Sam, caught in another fit. His pillow's already soaked through red.
Castiel goes to Sam's bedside, raises a hand over him. Bobby resists the urge to rush into the space between the angel and the son he never had. Sam mighta made mistakes, but this alien creep seemed to have no trouble assigning life and death. Then again, when Bobby'd called, Cas had come, and he might be Sam's only hope now. And there's the added benefit that Sam's seizure stops at a wave of the angel's hand.
To Bobby's surprise and not a little concern, Castiel sits on the edge of Sam's bed.
With a swipe of his hand, Sam's face is cleared of blood. Almost immediately, blood pools again in his cheek and spills over. Red reappears at his nose and drips down into the red of the pillow. Another swipe, and that blood vanishes and does not reappear. Castiel places his hands on either side of Sam's face and Sam's profile is lit up gold. There's a resounding cracking pop; Sam's body jerks, and then lies still.
"I have restored Sam Winchester to the best of my ability." Castiel stands.
"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby asks, rushing to Sam's side to check his vitals.
"He is whole."
Bobby pulls down gently on Sam's jaw, still bruised and swollen but relocated now, and Sam's tongue is there, waiting to be an insufferable know-it-all sometime real soon, and damned if Bobby wasn't going to throw a goddamned party in honor of the boy's ability to bitch.
"There is damage I cannot heal."
"What damage?" Dean's voice comes weak, but it's there, and a moment later, he's dragging himself upright from the other bed in the room, half a second from stumbling over to Sam's bed. Bobby lets him struggle, the damned fool.
"Sam... exerted himself in a way I cannot heal."
Dean stares for a moment. "He exorcized me. He freed me. But he wasn't, he couldn't - I mean he was getting the shit beat out of him by a demon two weeks ago and I watched him try to exorcize it. No deal."
Bobby watches Sam's chest rise and fall. "Sam's real strong when it concerns you."
Castiel nods, serious. "Sam is very strong. Period."
Dean collapses on Sam's bedside. "Well I don't care how strong he is. How do we fix him?"
Castiel narrows his eyes. "There is a thing that will strengthen him physically, enough that he can heal on his own."
"What is it."
"Demon blood."
"What? No."
Castiel looks down at Sam. Sam pale, Sam unmoving. Dean doesn't speak, Dean looks torn. Bobby touches his arm.
"Son, you know this idjit's gonna do this again," Bobby says, trying for gentle.
"What?"
"Yes," Cas agrees. "This behavior is 'classic Sam Winchester.'"
Dean stares.
"Did I say it incorrectly? I saw it on the television. It refers to a behavior which is common to an individual and not common to many other individuals." When Dean doesn't say anything, Cas continues: "Meaning that Sam will use this evil thing to his detriment over and over until he, likely, expires."
"Fuck I get it," Dean explodes. "I get it, shut the hell up. Fine, let's do it."
Bobby frowns. There's no half-measures with Dean, just like there never were with his daddy. Despite what he's just said, Bobby feels some responsibility for reeling Dean in. They've been busting Sam's balls about the blood for so long, and Dean's so desperate - "Should we be a little careful about this, Dean? You remember what the angels said."
Dean shakes his head. "I don't give a fuck what the angels said. He broke himself to save me. I'm not gonna let that happen again. You just said he'd try it again even knowing the consequences. The consequences to himself. And you're right. No feathered asshole is gonna tell me what he's doing is evil. We make things evil or good. We do it. And there isn't an evil bone in that kid's body."
"I agree-"
"You stay out of this! You and your feathery brothers- Wait. What?"
"I said that I agree with you. About good and evil. About humankind's inherent neutrality bestowing upon it the ability to turn evil methods to good means." Castiel dips his head, an afterthought: "And about Sam not having an evil bone in his body."
"Uh."
"That is the phrase used to denote a person having little capacity for true evil, is it not?" Cas waits for Dean to nod, then says, "Then indeed none of Sam's bones are evil."
"Oh." Dean raises a brow. Both of them turn to Bobby, who puts his hands up in front of him.
"I ain't the boy's daddy, and this ain't a democracy. You do whatever you need to to wake him up, and then ask him if he wants to keep doing the stuff."
Dean frowns. "Fine." Bobby watches as Dean rifles through Sam's pockets for Sam's phone and wonders how the hell this is going to turn out. They can't fight the angels, and Sam's not supposed to - and would Sam even choose that, after the way Dean's been acting -
Then again, Dean's been a demon this whole time, so-
"Ruby. Get here now."
She's there in seconds, the demon bitch who took his brother away and turned him to this - but Dean can't bring himself to be upset about it, because deep in his bones is an oily ache, a hollowed-out feeling of having been inhabited, muscle memories he didn't make himself, and he'd still be trapped right now if it weren't for Sam.
Ruby steps into the room and stops short, staring at the floor at the foot of Sam's bed. At the dark stain at the foot of Sam's bed, at the-
"Is that a tongue?" she squeaks and Dean takes her by the elbow and directs her to Sam, pale and unmoving on the bed, pale and unmoving and barely breathing and he says, "That's taken care of. Now we need you."
"To do what?"
Dean shakes her, fingers digging into her arm. "You know what."
Her demeanor changes in an instant, a sly smile spreads across her lips and her chin dips. She looks up at Dean like she wants to devour him, then looks over at Bobby, winks. A cool nod at Castiel, but then she's at Sam's side, and her smile is gentle, it's softened and her face is almost pretty. She sits on the bed, pulls a dagger from her boot, draws it across her flesh.
Drips it into Sam's mouth - Dean sees it like a vision: red dripping into a wailing infant's mouth. Sam has suffered this before, and everything in Dean wants to stop this. The sulfur smell is overwhelming and he just wants to stop this.
But Sam's breathing deepens and steadies, slows to calm from the panicked rabbit heart of the dying, and Dean's world deepens and steadies, slows to calm from the panicked rabbit heart of the dying.
"That's right baby," Ruby murmurs. She sweeps Sam's hair from his forehead, her touch is light, loving. Dean imagines Sam drunk and broken after Dean's death, how easy it must have been for her to get her claws into him, into Sam who only ever wanted to be accepted and loved.
But Sam wakes up a moment later, and he's coughing on the blood, spitting it out, trying to turn away from her, but he's too weak and she shushes him, pulls his mouth open so he can't help but drink, and Dean has to stop this.
His hand on her shoulder is almost enough.
"He needs this. You know that."
Dean doesn't back off. "Let him wake up and decide for himself."
She doesn't really have a choice. But Sam is waking up, even if he still looks like shit. Dean looks around the room.
"Could you give us a moment?"
Bobby nods, starts to leave the room. Ruby and Cas stay put, and Dean has to shoo them out. Cas, at least, probably didn't understand that he was supposed to get out.
They are alone in the room. Sam blinks up at the ceiling slow, frowning and looking like he's trying to work something out.
Dean sits on his bedside.
"I had to," Sam says immediately, and then puts his hand up to his mouth in surprise.
"Yeah, we fixed that. Cas. Cas fixed that."
Sam nods, thoughtful. "I had to, Dean," he says again, insistent.
"I know." He offers his hand when Sam tries to sit up, grabs a pillow off his bed to prop it behind Sam's back. "Listen Sammy, I wanted to talk about that."
"I couldn't let you stay like that, Dean, I couldn't. I know what it feels like."
Dean frowns. Right, Meg. "Settle down, kiddo. I'm not mad."
Sam regards him, frowning.
"Sam. I know what I... did. All these weeks - that wasn't me."
"I know."
"Yeah?" Dean leans closer; Sam shrinks back, just a smidge, pales, if that's possible. "Yeah, real convincing."
"I know you were possessed, Dean." Now he sounds petulant. It's music to Dean's ears.
"Listen, I get it. I had nightmares of Dad with yellow eyes for weeks. You know? It's normal. You always did want to be normal, right?" He grins; Sam rolls his eyes. A hand pats at his bloodsoaked shirt absently. "What's on your mind, Sammy?"
"How'm I... I thought that would kill me."
"You called Bobby. Bobby called a taxi Cas-" Sam snorts. "Like that, huh? Yeah, thought of it a few minutes ago. Cas fixed you up, but um. Sammy you... you weren't wakin' up. Cas said there was stuff he couldn't fix."
Sam looks off, devastated. "Ruby."
"Yeah. Ruby. But here's my take. You're gonna do this hero shit again, we all know it. You're gonna try it when you don't have any juice, and next time it is gonna kill you. The way I see it, this is just another tool in our trunk. Right?"
Sam nods, but he doesn't seem convinced. "What happened to 'this makes you a monster?'"
"Okay, first of all, that was the demon-"
"No, actually. You said you'd hunt me. And we hunt..?"
"Monsters, yeah okay fine. Can you just appreciate that I've kinda grown my perspective a little bit here? Also, Cas says he thinks maybe humans have the potential to use good and evil power and change it because of their neutral some shit."
"He said that? The angels approve?"
"No," Cas says, appearing in the room.
"Jesus Christ, Cas-"
"Excuse me. No, the angels will not approve. We will have to work against them concerning this."
"We?" Dean looks at Sam.
"We."
Dean lays his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's your decision, Sam. If you want to start this up again, if you think it's an acceptable risk, I got your back."
"We're fighting a war," Sam says. "I think one human is an acceptable risk, if it comes to that."
"It won't," Dean says.
"With a nearly 34% probability," Cas agrees.
"Way to cheer a guy up," Ruby says from the doorway. "You ready to feel better, baby?"
"Wonderful," Bobby grouses from behind her. "Get a room."
"Yeah, don't be gross," Dean says, even as Sam is tiredly nodding.
"We still don't know why that demon stayed for so long," Sam says. "It seemed like he was going to keep me alive even after I knew he wasn't you."
Ruby's offering him her arm. Dean gets up; he still doesn't want to be near her. There's something off about her, and he wonders if this is a leftover tingle from the demon who rode him for so long.
"We'll figure that out," Dean assures, stumbles on the way to the table. Bobby catches him.
"What you boys need is rest. And a hideout. And a plan."
"We don't have any of that shit," Dean says. He feels dragged down by every inch of skin suddenly - ah yes, the adrenaline crash.
"Well, I can give you a supply of the good stuff that should hold you for a while," Ruby says.
"Where are you goin'?"
Ruby blinks at him with a smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She tosses her hair, looks at Sam, who's pushing her arm away now self-consciously and wiping at his mouth. She looks back at Dean with a sigh. "I've got stuff to take care of. You wouldn't believe how time-consuming it is to dodge every other demon out there hunting you down for the crime of helping the good guys. I'll drop off a couple of flasks tomorrow morning. Get some sleep," she says to Sam, and kisses his forehead.
Seconds later, she's gone. Dean signals to Bobby, get me to bed, old man.
Sam slumps in the bed.
"Buck up, kid," Bobby says, hauling Dean to his feet. "Everyone's alive. We're gonna figure this out."
Dean sways. "Yeah. Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise."
"You idiot! You almost ruined everything."
"But I-"
"The brothers are united stronger than ever now. This is a disaster."
"I had everything under control. Your guy's the one who screwed up."
"Castiel can't be read in on every hair-brained scheme you people come up with; his mission is to appear sincere to the Winchesters. You got caught giving a mission report and acting like a big man, and used an unaware asset as an alibi. You fucked up. And you will pay for your mistakes. Luckily, we have a contingency for every possibility."
← Part Four || End.
A Supernatural Story
Rating: R (Language, Violence), Gen
Betas: quakerhobbit, caladria
Warnings/Tags: Season 4, demon blood, discussions of hell, possession
Written for
spnaufestival
Part Five
He has a first row fucking seat to this shit storm, and he's not going to fucking take it sitting down. Sammy's putting up a decent fight, and Dean tries to will Sammy to use some of the moves Dean taught him, hit him with a right, Sammy, distract him! But this demon can hear everything Dean is thinking and uses it against Sam, and Dean hates the fucking satanic son of a bitch even more for that. And then he hears what it tells Sam.
"I got an all access pass. I know everything. How he screamed for you to save him, damned you for failing. Oh, yours is the most cursed name in all of hell, Sammy."
Shut up.
"But the best is how he hated himself for picking up the blade himself-"
Shut up!
"I only wish it'd lasted longer, that self-hatred. Hatred turned into pleasure so fast-"
"Shut up!" And Sam is up, and Dean is cheering, but if they get out of this, he has to remember to put a bandaid on that. He can tell Sam is taking it to heart. He believes this demon. He believes this demon and Dean needs for him to not (too bad it's true, isn't it my boy, Alastair says into his ear).
Sam tries the exorcism, and yeah, that's the first thing Dean would have tried too. Luckily, Sam figures out about the lock way sooner than Dean had, and he cheers when Sam says come and see, even though Dean knows Sam, Dean knows Sam doesn't have it in him. God he wishes the kid could do it, but Sam won't kill Dean, Dean will be cursed to have killed Sam with his own hands, even if this demon gets kicked out somehow, he will always have killed his own brother, and he's resigned to that as his due for being everything the demon told Sam he was - a killer, a torturer, sickeningly good at it and happy about that. Except that no matter how resigned he is to living with Sam's death on his hands, the fact remains that Sam will be dead and he wills Sam to not make the Sam choice here, to take one for the team and send Dean and this demon back where they belong.
And the demon hears his thoughts, the demon knows Sam doesn't have the stones to kill Dean, so fuck fuck, fuck this demon for making Dean watch, fuck this demon for eavesdropping and being able to call Sam's bluff-
Except that it isn't a bluff, and Sam's going to go for the exorcism again. When his knife slices through the mark on Dean's arm, something comes undone in Dean, something freeing, something open, and the demon is vulnerable now, its grip on Dean is more tenuous. Dean's feeling through this new open feeling for chinks in the demon's grip when Sam's scream tears through him.
Sam is laying back, limp, bruises are already forming at his jawline. Dean can recognize it from experience. Sam's going to have a hell of a time making a coherent exorcism, but it can be done, Dean's congratulating him as Sam makes an attempt, but-
Dean goes cold as he watches his own hands reach for Sam's face. Dean can sense what is going to happen. No, he screams. No no no no-
-the terror in Sam's eyes as Dean's hands pry open his dislocated jaw, with a swipe of Dean's pocketknife, blood is everywhere and Sam is choking on it, and Dean's body sits back even as Dean fights and fights and beats against his cage. Sam's tongue drops to the ground next to his head.
Fuck. Fuck, bastard!
Sam is limp. Staring at the ceiling, blinking slow. Dean's body leans over him again. "Come on Samantha. Don't give up on me now, kid. I thought you were stronger than that. Seems like your reputation's gotten a little out of hand."
Sam blinks up at Dean then, looks him right in the eye, and Dean can feel the blade against his neck. The demon freezes, Dean can see the desperation in Sam's eyes. He's afraid he can't do it, he's trying to talk himself into it, he's trying to reach Dean.
I'm here, Sammy, he thinks. I'm not going anywhere, little brother. He rails against his cage, he gathers strength from the knife's edge pressed against his throat, he pulls on every bit of rage he's got - at himself for giving in in Hell, for letting himself be vulnerable to this demon, at Sam for letting himself get so caught up in revenge, at Bobby for not watching the kid, at the universe for being just generally terrible, and then-
-he's through.
"Sammy do it, do it. Don't you let me kill you goddammit. Sammy!" and that last word is choked with anguish and desperation and Sam mouths:
I'm sorry.
"Sam Sam Sam-"
But the demon is back in charge now and it pushes Dean back down with enough force Dean can't even see what's going on anymore. Just Sam mouthing sorry over and over in his memory. Sam can't kill him. Sam can't do it. Fuck. Somehow, he's going to have a nice long fucking talk with this kid, if he has to pull a million favors from the god squad themselves to talk to Sam in the afterlife.
But now he's blinded and he's deafened and he can't see what's happening, what his body is doing, what is happening to Sam, although it seems like the demon wants to keep Sam alive. And Dean would sure as shit like to know why, by the way. If the demon lets Sam live through this, maybe there'll be another chance for Sam to get the upper hand, although without a tongue - fuck his little brother's tongue has just been cut out - it'll be hard to do an exorcism. He'll have to get the balls to kill Dean. God.
He can't help but think about the situation as temporary. When he gets free of the demon, when Sam is able to exorcize him, when Bobby can find them and save them both, when Sam gets medical attention and his freaking tongue grows back - but Sam's sorry means Sam isn't thinking in whens. He's thinking in ifs. If they get out of this, Sam will feel guilty for almost killing Dean, or for not being able to kill him - Dean isn't sure which will be worse, but he's sure Sam will feel both ways at the same time. A particular skillset Sam is great at.
He pushes outward again. He has to see if Sam's okay. He has to know. The demon isn't paying attention to him anymore, focused on Sam. So Dean can feel himself walking around the room now. Can feel the demon talking now, saying nothing of consequence. Dean is trying to make himself look at Sam, but he can't. The demon laughs as it intentionally keeps Sam just out of Dean's eyeline.
Get up, Sam. Get up, kid. Please, Sammy, please. You gotta kill this fucker, please please please-
And then the demon freezes. There's a fire starting up in this vast oppressive space Dean is trapped in. It heats up quick, shoots down Dean's veins like whatever sulfur in them this demon has brought with it is getting gathered up and burnt out, like a fever killing the bug. The demon coughs, spins toward Sam, drops to its knees.
Sam's name comes out of Dean's throat, full of revulsion and promise, but the demon can't make good, because Dean is fighting too now, to get control. Black flows from Dean's mouth and down, heavy smoke, drifting low and sinking into the floor, singing the carpet, and Dean is surrounded by the glow of embers and the stink of sulfur and his voice is still chanting Sam, Sam but it's his voice now, it's all him and it's all desperate and afraid and pleading, Sam, Sam.
Dean scrambles over to Sam's body. Sam is laying limp on the floor, Dean reaches out to maybe touch him, find a pulse or something, and Sam's back arches, his fingers claw, he's having a fit, and Dean doesn't know what to do.
"Tell me what to do, Sammy," Dean says, weeps almost.
"Leave him be," Bobby says, and Dean whirls around. His knife is out before he registers the door's open and shut already, and it's Bobby talking, and when he realizes he's pulled a knife on Bobby, he's pulled a knife already covered in Sam's blood on Bobby, he throws it away and falls back onto his ass, staring at his hands.
"You just back away from him now, go on Dean."
"Bobby, I didn't - oh fuck."
Bobby has a gun in his hand and he gestures with it. "Go on now, I said."
Dean's brain stalls for half a second and then he says, "Bobby goddammit I was possessed. Oh god, all those times I - You gotta help him Bobby."
Bobby lowers the gun, looks Sam over. "I'm keepin' my eye on you anyhow," he says, and pulls out a flask of holy water to flick Dean with. When Dean doesn't sizzle, he looks annoyed. "Well, either you're lying 'bout being possessed or Sam's already exorcized yer ass."
Dean nods, dazed. "Uh, second one."
"Right," Bobby says, unconvinced. He drops his back on the floor and kneels next to Sam a minute, taking vitals and shoving a pillow under his head until the shaking stops. "Okay, come on, son. We gotta get him on the bed."
Dean comes forward on auto-pilot, takes Sam at the shoulders.
"So Sam exorcized ya, huh? Using his..." Bobby waggles his head a little, apparently to signify psychic mojo, and heat rushes through Dean, anger.
"What was he supposed to do, Bobby? Let me kill him? The bastard cut out his tongue."
"What?" Bobby looks down at Sam's bloody face in horror. "Help me get him on his side." When Dean doesn't move immediately, Bobby says, "So he don't choke on the blood, boy, hurry up."
Dean takes over arranging Sam onto his side while Bobby retrieves the first aid kit.
"Any idea what the demon wanted?"
Dean shakes his head. "No. Bobby, he needs a hospital."
"Let me take a look." Bobby reaches for Sam's face.
"Dont fucking touch him," Dean says.
Bobby freezes, gives him the weirdest look, like maybe Dean's losing it, or still possessed, or-
"Just. His jaw's dislocated. I - I, it. Uh. Didn't want him exorcising it. It was gonna keep me, Bobby." Dean displays his arm, still bleeding from Sam's slice through the locking symbol. "I woulda. Uh."
"Okay. Calm down. Everything's fine now, right?"
"No, everything's not fucking fine, Bobby! Sam's - he couldn't - Sam's-"
"Breathe you idjit." Bobby turns back to Sam, but in deference to Dean's worries, he handles Sam's face gently, prods around his ears, nods. "I can relocate it. Hell, you can relocate it, I know you can. But you're probably right. Kid needs a hospital."
Dean sinks to the floor, nodding. "It cut his fucking tongue out, Bobby," he says again. He's not sure why it's the most important thing in this whole mess. It's really damn fucked up, but Sam's alive, and Dean's alive. Yeah, maybe Sam's agony is the most important thing in this whole mess.
"No you didn't, Dean," Bobby is saying. Dean looks up at him, bewildered.
"What?"
"I said you didn't cut his tongue out."
"I didn't say-"
"You said, I cut his- Damn it boy, don't you pass out on me."
Dean nods again, the room dims around him. But Sam needs him. "Bobby," he slurs. "How'd you get here so fast anyway?"
"He appears to be unconscious."
"Of course he's unconscious, you idjit."
Bobby looks Castiel, Angel of the Holy Whatsit, up and down. Not exactly instilling a sense of wonder standing there in a trench coat and messy hair. Maybe the wonder came part and parcel with the light show.
"I can wake them both-"
"Sam first. Dean needs the rest. And he don't need to see one more second of this." He gestures to Sam, caught in another fit. His pillow's already soaked through red.
Castiel goes to Sam's bedside, raises a hand over him. Bobby resists the urge to rush into the space between the angel and the son he never had. Sam mighta made mistakes, but this alien creep seemed to have no trouble assigning life and death. Then again, when Bobby'd called, Cas had come, and he might be Sam's only hope now. And there's the added benefit that Sam's seizure stops at a wave of the angel's hand.
To Bobby's surprise and not a little concern, Castiel sits on the edge of Sam's bed.
With a swipe of his hand, Sam's face is cleared of blood. Almost immediately, blood pools again in his cheek and spills over. Red reappears at his nose and drips down into the red of the pillow. Another swipe, and that blood vanishes and does not reappear. Castiel places his hands on either side of Sam's face and Sam's profile is lit up gold. There's a resounding cracking pop; Sam's body jerks, and then lies still.
"I have restored Sam Winchester to the best of my ability." Castiel stands.
"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby asks, rushing to Sam's side to check his vitals.
"He is whole."
Bobby pulls down gently on Sam's jaw, still bruised and swollen but relocated now, and Sam's tongue is there, waiting to be an insufferable know-it-all sometime real soon, and damned if Bobby wasn't going to throw a goddamned party in honor of the boy's ability to bitch.
"There is damage I cannot heal."
"What damage?" Dean's voice comes weak, but it's there, and a moment later, he's dragging himself upright from the other bed in the room, half a second from stumbling over to Sam's bed. Bobby lets him struggle, the damned fool.
"Sam... exerted himself in a way I cannot heal."
Dean stares for a moment. "He exorcized me. He freed me. But he wasn't, he couldn't - I mean he was getting the shit beat out of him by a demon two weeks ago and I watched him try to exorcize it. No deal."
Bobby watches Sam's chest rise and fall. "Sam's real strong when it concerns you."
Castiel nods, serious. "Sam is very strong. Period."
Dean collapses on Sam's bedside. "Well I don't care how strong he is. How do we fix him?"
Castiel narrows his eyes. "There is a thing that will strengthen him physically, enough that he can heal on his own."
"What is it."
"Demon blood."
"What? No."
Castiel looks down at Sam. Sam pale, Sam unmoving. Dean doesn't speak, Dean looks torn. Bobby touches his arm.
"Son, you know this idjit's gonna do this again," Bobby says, trying for gentle.
"What?"
"Yes," Cas agrees. "This behavior is 'classic Sam Winchester.'"
Dean stares.
"Did I say it incorrectly? I saw it on the television. It refers to a behavior which is common to an individual and not common to many other individuals." When Dean doesn't say anything, Cas continues: "Meaning that Sam will use this evil thing to his detriment over and over until he, likely, expires."
"Fuck I get it," Dean explodes. "I get it, shut the hell up. Fine, let's do it."
Bobby frowns. There's no half-measures with Dean, just like there never were with his daddy. Despite what he's just said, Bobby feels some responsibility for reeling Dean in. They've been busting Sam's balls about the blood for so long, and Dean's so desperate - "Should we be a little careful about this, Dean? You remember what the angels said."
Dean shakes his head. "I don't give a fuck what the angels said. He broke himself to save me. I'm not gonna let that happen again. You just said he'd try it again even knowing the consequences. The consequences to himself. And you're right. No feathered asshole is gonna tell me what he's doing is evil. We make things evil or good. We do it. And there isn't an evil bone in that kid's body."
"I agree-"
"You stay out of this! You and your feathery brothers- Wait. What?"
"I said that I agree with you. About good and evil. About humankind's inherent neutrality bestowing upon it the ability to turn evil methods to good means." Castiel dips his head, an afterthought: "And about Sam not having an evil bone in his body."
"Uh."
"That is the phrase used to denote a person having little capacity for true evil, is it not?" Cas waits for Dean to nod, then says, "Then indeed none of Sam's bones are evil."
"Oh." Dean raises a brow. Both of them turn to Bobby, who puts his hands up in front of him.
"I ain't the boy's daddy, and this ain't a democracy. You do whatever you need to to wake him up, and then ask him if he wants to keep doing the stuff."
Dean frowns. "Fine." Bobby watches as Dean rifles through Sam's pockets for Sam's phone and wonders how the hell this is going to turn out. They can't fight the angels, and Sam's not supposed to - and would Sam even choose that, after the way Dean's been acting -
Then again, Dean's been a demon this whole time, so-
"Ruby. Get here now."
She's there in seconds, the demon bitch who took his brother away and turned him to this - but Dean can't bring himself to be upset about it, because deep in his bones is an oily ache, a hollowed-out feeling of having been inhabited, muscle memories he didn't make himself, and he'd still be trapped right now if it weren't for Sam.
Ruby steps into the room and stops short, staring at the floor at the foot of Sam's bed. At the dark stain at the foot of Sam's bed, at the-
"Is that a tongue?" she squeaks and Dean takes her by the elbow and directs her to Sam, pale and unmoving on the bed, pale and unmoving and barely breathing and he says, "That's taken care of. Now we need you."
"To do what?"
Dean shakes her, fingers digging into her arm. "You know what."
Her demeanor changes in an instant, a sly smile spreads across her lips and her chin dips. She looks up at Dean like she wants to devour him, then looks over at Bobby, winks. A cool nod at Castiel, but then she's at Sam's side, and her smile is gentle, it's softened and her face is almost pretty. She sits on the bed, pulls a dagger from her boot, draws it across her flesh.
Drips it into Sam's mouth - Dean sees it like a vision: red dripping into a wailing infant's mouth. Sam has suffered this before, and everything in Dean wants to stop this. The sulfur smell is overwhelming and he just wants to stop this.
But Sam's breathing deepens and steadies, slows to calm from the panicked rabbit heart of the dying, and Dean's world deepens and steadies, slows to calm from the panicked rabbit heart of the dying.
"That's right baby," Ruby murmurs. She sweeps Sam's hair from his forehead, her touch is light, loving. Dean imagines Sam drunk and broken after Dean's death, how easy it must have been for her to get her claws into him, into Sam who only ever wanted to be accepted and loved.
But Sam wakes up a moment later, and he's coughing on the blood, spitting it out, trying to turn away from her, but he's too weak and she shushes him, pulls his mouth open so he can't help but drink, and Dean has to stop this.
His hand on her shoulder is almost enough.
"He needs this. You know that."
Dean doesn't back off. "Let him wake up and decide for himself."
She doesn't really have a choice. But Sam is waking up, even if he still looks like shit. Dean looks around the room.
"Could you give us a moment?"
Bobby nods, starts to leave the room. Ruby and Cas stay put, and Dean has to shoo them out. Cas, at least, probably didn't understand that he was supposed to get out.
They are alone in the room. Sam blinks up at the ceiling slow, frowning and looking like he's trying to work something out.
Dean sits on his bedside.
"I had to," Sam says immediately, and then puts his hand up to his mouth in surprise.
"Yeah, we fixed that. Cas. Cas fixed that."
Sam nods, thoughtful. "I had to, Dean," he says again, insistent.
"I know." He offers his hand when Sam tries to sit up, grabs a pillow off his bed to prop it behind Sam's back. "Listen Sammy, I wanted to talk about that."
"I couldn't let you stay like that, Dean, I couldn't. I know what it feels like."
Dean frowns. Right, Meg. "Settle down, kiddo. I'm not mad."
Sam regards him, frowning.
"Sam. I know what I... did. All these weeks - that wasn't me."
"I know."
"Yeah?" Dean leans closer; Sam shrinks back, just a smidge, pales, if that's possible. "Yeah, real convincing."
"I know you were possessed, Dean." Now he sounds petulant. It's music to Dean's ears.
"Listen, I get it. I had nightmares of Dad with yellow eyes for weeks. You know? It's normal. You always did want to be normal, right?" He grins; Sam rolls his eyes. A hand pats at his bloodsoaked shirt absently. "What's on your mind, Sammy?"
"How'm I... I thought that would kill me."
"You called Bobby. Bobby called a taxi Cas-" Sam snorts. "Like that, huh? Yeah, thought of it a few minutes ago. Cas fixed you up, but um. Sammy you... you weren't wakin' up. Cas said there was stuff he couldn't fix."
Sam looks off, devastated. "Ruby."
"Yeah. Ruby. But here's my take. You're gonna do this hero shit again, we all know it. You're gonna try it when you don't have any juice, and next time it is gonna kill you. The way I see it, this is just another tool in our trunk. Right?"
Sam nods, but he doesn't seem convinced. "What happened to 'this makes you a monster?'"
"Okay, first of all, that was the demon-"
"No, actually. You said you'd hunt me. And we hunt..?"
"Monsters, yeah okay fine. Can you just appreciate that I've kinda grown my perspective a little bit here? Also, Cas says he thinks maybe humans have the potential to use good and evil power and change it because of their neutral some shit."
"He said that? The angels approve?"
"No," Cas says, appearing in the room.
"Jesus Christ, Cas-"
"Excuse me. No, the angels will not approve. We will have to work against them concerning this."
"We?" Dean looks at Sam.
"We."
Dean lays his hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's your decision, Sam. If you want to start this up again, if you think it's an acceptable risk, I got your back."
"We're fighting a war," Sam says. "I think one human is an acceptable risk, if it comes to that."
"It won't," Dean says.
"With a nearly 34% probability," Cas agrees.
"Way to cheer a guy up," Ruby says from the doorway. "You ready to feel better, baby?"
"Wonderful," Bobby grouses from behind her. "Get a room."
"Yeah, don't be gross," Dean says, even as Sam is tiredly nodding.
"We still don't know why that demon stayed for so long," Sam says. "It seemed like he was going to keep me alive even after I knew he wasn't you."
Ruby's offering him her arm. Dean gets up; he still doesn't want to be near her. There's something off about her, and he wonders if this is a leftover tingle from the demon who rode him for so long.
"We'll figure that out," Dean assures, stumbles on the way to the table. Bobby catches him.
"What you boys need is rest. And a hideout. And a plan."
"We don't have any of that shit," Dean says. He feels dragged down by every inch of skin suddenly - ah yes, the adrenaline crash.
"Well, I can give you a supply of the good stuff that should hold you for a while," Ruby says.
"Where are you goin'?"
Ruby blinks at him with a smile. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She tosses her hair, looks at Sam, who's pushing her arm away now self-consciously and wiping at his mouth. She looks back at Dean with a sigh. "I've got stuff to take care of. You wouldn't believe how time-consuming it is to dodge every other demon out there hunting you down for the crime of helping the good guys. I'll drop off a couple of flasks tomorrow morning. Get some sleep," she says to Sam, and kisses his forehead.
Seconds later, she's gone. Dean signals to Bobby, get me to bed, old man.
Sam slumps in the bed.
"Buck up, kid," Bobby says, hauling Dean to his feet. "Everyone's alive. We're gonna figure this out."
Dean sways. "Yeah. Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise."
"You idiot! You almost ruined everything."
"But I-"
"The brothers are united stronger than ever now. This is a disaster."
"I had everything under control. Your guy's the one who screwed up."
"Castiel can't be read in on every hair-brained scheme you people come up with; his mission is to appear sincere to the Winchesters. You got caught giving a mission report and acting like a big man, and used an unaware asset as an alibi. You fucked up. And you will pay for your mistakes. Luckily, we have a contingency for every possibility."
← Part Four || End.