Fic: Like a Virgin Redux
Genre: Gen, missing scenes
Spoilers for Like a Virgin (6.12) and earlier
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby
Rating: PG13 for language
Synopsis: Things that I thought needed to be said :-) My first completed fic, would love any comments, suggestions, whatever.
Dean sits in the panic room and watches Sam sleep. Sam may be an overgrown giant, but he still looks like a little kid when he's asleep. Yes, asleep. It might be more accurate to call Sam unconscious, or comatose (or, a tiny voice in the back of his mind insists, brain dead), but Dean prefers to think of it as sleeping. He doesn't even realize Bobby is in the room until the older man asks if he wants anything to eat.
"No, I'm good."
"Dean, have you eaten anything since Death left? Beer don't count," he adds, nodding at the empty bottle in Dean's hand. "You gotta take care of yourself. You can't help Sam if you're-"
"I can't help Sam anyway, in case you haven't noticed," Dean snaps. He immediately regrets it. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm just..." His voice trails off. Dean doesn't know what he is, other than useless. Angry, frightened, and so completely fucking useless.
"You've done all you can. You've done more than any other human could ever do. If Sam doesn't pull out of this, it ain't gonna be because you failed him." But Bobby doesn't understand that all Dean does is fail him. His whole life has been a series of failures, crowned by the biggest one of all. Sam may have broken the last seal, but if Dean hadn't broken the first one, Lucifer wouldn't have been released, and Sam wouldn't have thrown himself into Hell to lock him up again. Dean screwed up and Sam paid the price. Accepted all the blame willingly, fought the goddamn Devil himself, and saved the world. It has always been Dean's job to fix things, and he can't fix this.
Dean's thoughts are interrupted by Bobby's light touch on his shoulder. "Dean? You still here, son?"
"I'm sorry, Bobby. You say something?"
"I said, maybe you should call Cas. Maybe there's something he can do. I know he said he couldn't get Sam's soul, but now that it's back, maybe he can... I don't know... do something."
"Yeah, maybe." Dean sighs. He doesn't want to involve Castiel. Cas made it clear that he thought returning Sam's soul was a bad idea (but Cas thought Sam jumping into the cage was a good idea, so screw Cas and his opinions), and Dean is not in the mood for lectures from a self-righteous angel (and let's face it, no one is more sanctimonious than a self-righteous angel). But if there's even the slightest chance that it might help Sam, Dean has to make the attempt. So when Bobby goes back upstairs, Dean closes his eyes and says "Cas? You there? I really need some help, man. Please come if you can."
==========
Sam is swimming. He feels like he's been swimming forever. He doesn't remember when he started, or how he ended up in this cold dark endless body of water. No, not water, because it seems as thick as syrup, and it's a struggle to move through it. He pauses and looks down. The darkness is still there. He isn't sure when he became aware of the darkness, either. But it's always there, massive and menacing and practically oozing fear and pain and death. Part of him thinks he should investigate it, that it has something to do with him: something he did, something that had been done to him, something he caused. It feels wrong to run away from it. It is fearsome and evil, but Sam Winchester is not a man who runs away from fearsome and evil things. But every time he stops to look at it, an even stronger force tells him to stay away and keep moving toward the tiny pinpoint of warm golden light above him. He needs to get to that light. He doesn't know what it is, or why he needs to be there, but if he can just get to that light, he will be all right. Sam wills his arms and legs to move, to propel him toward the light, but it's so hard, and he's so tired.
==========
Dean stands outside the panic room, arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously. He regrets letting Castiel kick him out of the room while he checks for the presence of Sam's soul. He doesn't want to see his brother in pain, but any reaction at all, even a whimper, would be better than this blank sleep. Coma. Brain death (no dammit, don't go down that road). Dean's anxiety rages as he realizes Cas had been in there with Sam for several minutes. More than enough time to do... whatever he did in there. And there hasn't been a sound.
The door opens and the angel walks out, rolling down his sleeves. Dean peers into the safe room and sees Sam, still motionless, on the cot. Castiel walks past Dean without making eye contact. "Well?" Dean barks.
"His soul is in place."
"Is he ever gonna wake up?"
"I'm not a human doctor, Dean," Cas sighs.
Fuck. As if a human doctor would have a clue about any of this. Who better to answer questions about the state of a tortured soul than an angel? "Could you take a guess?" he asks sarcastically.
"Okay." Castiel turns to face Dean, his face full of anger. "Probably not."
"Oh, well, don't sugarcoat it," mutters Dean.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him!"
Dean's hands involuntarily clench into fists. "That thing" was his brother's soul. And without it, the body inside the panic room was a monster. "What was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire?"
"Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it," growls Castiel. "Like it had been skinned alive, Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright."
Dean resists the urge to punch Cas in his smug self-righteous face and instead flings his arms open. "You don't get it," he yells. "You act like Sam's life was all roses and sunshine before I stuffed his soul back into him. That... person? Walking around in our world? That wasn't Sam. That was his meat suit. He tried to kill Bobby, Cas! He wasn't my brother. My brother was still in Hell. Was I supposed to leave him there, if I had a chance to get him out?"
"It's going to kill him," Castiel repeats, less angry, his head cocked as if he is desperately trying to understand.
"Yeah, it might." Dean scrubs his hand over his face, feeling more defeat than anger. "You know, Sam made me promise once, that I would kill him to stop him from turning into a monster. I couldn't do it for him back then, but I can do it now. I can't have my brother being tortured in Hell for eternity, while some soulless monster walks around with his face. I can't just sit here and let that happen. If his only options are Hell or Heaven, then dammit, I'm sending him to Heaven."
"You believe he'll go to Heaven," Cas says. It is a statement, not a question.
"I do. If anyone deserves to go, it's Sam. Hopefully, whoever makes that decision has been paying attention."
"Whoever makes that decision." Castiel studies the floor sadly, and Dean feels a tiny stab of guilt for forgetting the angel has his own troubled family. "Well, he has been there once before."
"Yeah, and he'll be there again, in the end, if there is any justice in this world. Or in that... world." Dean walks into the panic room and stands over Sam, staring as if he can somehow discern his soul if he looks hard enough and long enough. Castiel follows him.
"You understand that even if it doesn't work, it might not kill him," Castiel says quietly, as he and Dean stare at Sam's motionless body.
"I know," Dean says. He knows that all too well. He turns away from his brother. Seeing Sam seemingly lifeless on the cot brings back too many bad memories. "It might just make him wish he was dead." He feels Castiel looking at him, but refuses to catch his eyes. He knows what is coming.
"And what are you prepared to do, if it comes to that?" the angel asks.
Dean leans against the cold iron wall and closes his eyes. He feels despair washing over him. He remembers Sam dying in his arms and being willing to give anything, even his own life, to undo that. He remembers his own shock and horror when Dad told him he'd have to save Sam or kill him. Dad didn't know it meant saving him from his own tortured soul, though.
"Whatever it takes," he says.
Castiel studies him for a moment, then nods. "Let me know if anything changes." With a fluttering whoosh, he is gone.
========
As Sam continues to push his way toward the light, he suddenly feels a familiar presence. "Castiel?" he says, spinning slowly as he searches the thick murky water. "Cas?" But there is no sign of the angel. Of course not, he realizes, as a dark memory creeps back into his consciousness. Castiel is dead. I watched him die. No... I killed him. I destroyed him with a snap of my fingers. Oh God, Cas, I am so sorry. And Bobby... I killed Bobby. I snapped Bobby's neck. They were trying to help Dean, and I killed them for it. I'm a fucking monster. They were trying to help Dean... oh God, what did I do to Dean? Sam puts his head in his hands as the horror of the memory sweeps over him... Castiel dead, Bobby dead, and Dean beaten to a bloody pulp as Sam's voice promised to break every bone in his body. He slowly begins to sink back toward the darkness. That's where he belongs. That's what he deserves. That's what he created. He kills everything he loves, he destroys everything he touches. Every decision he makes is wrong. He doesn't know what the light is, or why it's calling him, but this darkness is his.
=========
Dean knows he should go back upstairs, but Bobby will have questions, and he can't face them right now. He turns back to Sam. We saved you from Hell, he thinks. That's what's important. No matter what happens now, i got you out of hell, and that's all that that really matters. And maybe someday that will be true, that will be enough. But right now it's not. Right now he misses his brother so much that he can barely breathe. He kneels next to the cot and, on impulse, places his hand gently on Sam's chest. "Hang in there, Sammy," he says, softly. "You'll be okay. You've got to be okay." For a moment, his face crumples, and he puts his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. "Please be okay," he says, his voice breaking. "I need you to be okay." Then he sighs, pats Sam affectionately on the leg, and stands up. Time to put on his game face and explain to Bobby that things are still pretty fucked, but there might still be some hope. Not much, of course. There never was much.
=========
Sam is slowly sinking down, down toward the dark. He doesn't want to fight any more. He doesn't have the strength to fight, and even if he did, what is left to fight for? Everything is dead or broken beyond his ability to repair it. But as he drifts down, he feels a familiar presence again. Dean? Again he spins around, looking for a familiar face, and again he sees no one. But he feels his brother's steady presence; he can almost hear him calling his name. Dean needs him. Dean is looking for him. Dean is in the light and he needs him and Sam can't let him down. Not again. Slowly, painfully, Sam begins pushing himself toward the light.
=========
Bobby is waiting for Dean in the kitchen with a glass of whiskey. "Like my daddy always said, just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine." Dean accepts it gratefully. "Sam still asleep?"
"Yeah." As if I wouldn't have told you.
"He'll wake up."
"Yeah." Of course he will. Everything always goes our way, right?
"Dean, he's been through how much? Somehow, he always bounces back."
Dean swallows a comment about Bobby's sudden unbridled optimism. He knows Bobby's worried too, and is only playing the game they always play - if one of us is freaking out, the other has to hold it together. "He's never been through this."
"Yeah, but remember, he didn't sleep for over a year. Soul or no soul, a body needs sleep. He's just catching up. Kid's strong. He'll get through this."
"Yeah, speaking of..." Dean sighs. It's time to fix something that has been poking at him for a long time. "I know why Sam didn't find me when he got out of Hell. He didn't have a soul, so he didn't really give a crap about me. But you do. What's your excuse? Why'd you let me think he was still in the cage? You of all people knew what I was going through. That bullcrap about me finally being happy? You knew I wasn't happy. So what's the real story?"
Bobby looks away, seeming to consider his words carefully. "You're right. What I told you, it was... it was halfway true. I really did think you were better off not knowing. But it's not because I thought you were happy. Hell, I knew the only thing keeping you alive was that you promised Sam you wouldn't kill yourself." He refills his glass and takes a long drink. "The thing is, I thought you were better off not knowing about Sam because... because I wasn't entirely sure he was Sam. You shoulda seen him when he first showed up here. He was all kinds of strange, Dean. Real cold and clinical and looking like he was trying so hard to be Sam, but not quite getting it, you know? I mean, by the time you brought him back here, it was almost a year later. And he was believable, so he must have gotten some practice. But when I first saw him he was just not Sam. And believe me, I tested the hell out of that kid. He let me. He insisted on it." Dean nods, remembering how Sam performed the tests himself in Cicero. "And then when you accepted him, and he seemed more like himself, I just figured I was wrong, and it took him some time to get over Hell, so I stuck to the story he wanted to use. I'm sorry. I shoulda told you."
Dean drains his glass. He remembers the pain as the vampire sunk its teeth into his neck. He remembers the smile on Sam's face. "No, you might have been right. Doesn't matter now anyway."
============
Sam's eyes flicker open. He puts up a hand to shield them from the bright light in front of him, and feels a sharp jab of pain in his arm. He is confused and disoriented, but he's well-trained and instinctively does what John taught him to do when you wake up confused and disoriented. Assess the situation. Look for immediate threats (check for Dean), look for serious injuries (is Dean okay?), figure out where you are (where is Dean?), and remember what you can.
There's a light in front of him. No, it's above him. He's lying down. There's a light with a fan and... and a pentagram? Sam knows that light. It's the exhaust fan on the ceiling of Bobby's panic room. He's in Bobby's panic room. He's lying on the cot in Bobby's panic room. Which means he should be safe, even though he doesn't know who put him here (God, please let it be Dean).
He sits up and feels pain and tugging on his arm again. It's an IV. He doesn't seem to have any serious injuries, but someone is caring for him. Sam carefully slides the needle out of his arm and tries to remember why he is here. The last thing he remembers is...
Is a nightmare. He tries to stop the images from flooding his brain but it's impossible; he relives it all in gruesome detail. He was in a cemetery in Kansas. He opened Lucifer's cage and fell inside. He remembers the struggle. He gasps in horror as he remembers the power flowing through him, the power that obliterated Castiel and snapped Bobby's neck. His heart clenches when he remembers the feeling of his own fist punching Dean over and over.
Sam doesn't know why he's alive, why he's not in Hell. He only knows that Dean must be okay. No one else would have brought him here. "Dean?" Sam's voice is quiet and hoarse. Dean's not in here with him, but he wouldn't have left him alone. He's upstairs and he's alive and Sam's alive, and Sam has to find him.
And Sam Winchester finally walks out into the world he saved, and finds his brother waiting for him.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.
Spoilers for Like a Virgin (6.12) and earlier
Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Bobby
Rating: PG13 for language
Synopsis: Things that I thought needed to be said :-) My first completed fic, would love any comments, suggestions, whatever.
Dean sits in the panic room and watches Sam sleep. Sam may be an overgrown giant, but he still looks like a little kid when he's asleep. Yes, asleep. It might be more accurate to call Sam unconscious, or comatose (or, a tiny voice in the back of his mind insists, brain dead), but Dean prefers to think of it as sleeping. He doesn't even realize Bobby is in the room until the older man asks if he wants anything to eat.
"No, I'm good."
"Dean, have you eaten anything since Death left? Beer don't count," he adds, nodding at the empty bottle in Dean's hand. "You gotta take care of yourself. You can't help Sam if you're-"
"I can't help Sam anyway, in case you haven't noticed," Dean snaps. He immediately regrets it. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm just..." His voice trails off. Dean doesn't know what he is, other than useless. Angry, frightened, and so completely fucking useless.
"You've done all you can. You've done more than any other human could ever do. If Sam doesn't pull out of this, it ain't gonna be because you failed him." But Bobby doesn't understand that all Dean does is fail him. His whole life has been a series of failures, crowned by the biggest one of all. Sam may have broken the last seal, but if Dean hadn't broken the first one, Lucifer wouldn't have been released, and Sam wouldn't have thrown himself into Hell to lock him up again. Dean screwed up and Sam paid the price. Accepted all the blame willingly, fought the goddamn Devil himself, and saved the world. It has always been Dean's job to fix things, and he can't fix this.
Dean's thoughts are interrupted by Bobby's light touch on his shoulder. "Dean? You still here, son?"
"I'm sorry, Bobby. You say something?"
"I said, maybe you should call Cas. Maybe there's something he can do. I know he said he couldn't get Sam's soul, but now that it's back, maybe he can... I don't know... do something."
"Yeah, maybe." Dean sighs. He doesn't want to involve Castiel. Cas made it clear that he thought returning Sam's soul was a bad idea (but Cas thought Sam jumping into the cage was a good idea, so screw Cas and his opinions), and Dean is not in the mood for lectures from a self-righteous angel (and let's face it, no one is more sanctimonious than a self-righteous angel). But if there's even the slightest chance that it might help Sam, Dean has to make the attempt. So when Bobby goes back upstairs, Dean closes his eyes and says "Cas? You there? I really need some help, man. Please come if you can."
==========
Sam is swimming. He feels like he's been swimming forever. He doesn't remember when he started, or how he ended up in this cold dark endless body of water. No, not water, because it seems as thick as syrup, and it's a struggle to move through it. He pauses and looks down. The darkness is still there. He isn't sure when he became aware of the darkness, either. But it's always there, massive and menacing and practically oozing fear and pain and death. Part of him thinks he should investigate it, that it has something to do with him: something he did, something that had been done to him, something he caused. It feels wrong to run away from it. It is fearsome and evil, but Sam Winchester is not a man who runs away from fearsome and evil things. But every time he stops to look at it, an even stronger force tells him to stay away and keep moving toward the tiny pinpoint of warm golden light above him. He needs to get to that light. He doesn't know what it is, or why he needs to be there, but if he can just get to that light, he will be all right. Sam wills his arms and legs to move, to propel him toward the light, but it's so hard, and he's so tired.
==========
Dean stands outside the panic room, arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously. He regrets letting Castiel kick him out of the room while he checks for the presence of Sam's soul. He doesn't want to see his brother in pain, but any reaction at all, even a whimper, would be better than this blank sleep. Coma. Brain death (no dammit, don't go down that road). Dean's anxiety rages as he realizes Cas had been in there with Sam for several minutes. More than enough time to do... whatever he did in there. And there hasn't been a sound.
The door opens and the angel walks out, rolling down his sleeves. Dean peers into the safe room and sees Sam, still motionless, on the cot. Castiel walks past Dean without making eye contact. "Well?" Dean barks.
"His soul is in place."
"Is he ever gonna wake up?"
"I'm not a human doctor, Dean," Cas sighs.
Fuck. As if a human doctor would have a clue about any of this. Who better to answer questions about the state of a tortured soul than an angel? "Could you take a guess?" he asks sarcastically.
"Okay." Castiel turns to face Dean, his face full of anger. "Probably not."
"Oh, well, don't sugarcoat it," mutters Dean.
"I'm sorry, Dean, but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him!"
Dean's hands involuntarily clench into fists. "That thing" was his brother's soul. And without it, the body inside the panic room was a monster. "What was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire?"
"Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it," growls Castiel. "Like it had been skinned alive, Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright."
Dean resists the urge to punch Cas in his smug self-righteous face and instead flings his arms open. "You don't get it," he yells. "You act like Sam's life was all roses and sunshine before I stuffed his soul back into him. That... person? Walking around in our world? That wasn't Sam. That was his meat suit. He tried to kill Bobby, Cas! He wasn't my brother. My brother was still in Hell. Was I supposed to leave him there, if I had a chance to get him out?"
"It's going to kill him," Castiel repeats, less angry, his head cocked as if he is desperately trying to understand.
"Yeah, it might." Dean scrubs his hand over his face, feeling more defeat than anger. "You know, Sam made me promise once, that I would kill him to stop him from turning into a monster. I couldn't do it for him back then, but I can do it now. I can't have my brother being tortured in Hell for eternity, while some soulless monster walks around with his face. I can't just sit here and let that happen. If his only options are Hell or Heaven, then dammit, I'm sending him to Heaven."
"You believe he'll go to Heaven," Cas says. It is a statement, not a question.
"I do. If anyone deserves to go, it's Sam. Hopefully, whoever makes that decision has been paying attention."
"Whoever makes that decision." Castiel studies the floor sadly, and Dean feels a tiny stab of guilt for forgetting the angel has his own troubled family. "Well, he has been there once before."
"Yeah, and he'll be there again, in the end, if there is any justice in this world. Or in that... world." Dean walks into the panic room and stands over Sam, staring as if he can somehow discern his soul if he looks hard enough and long enough. Castiel follows him.
"You understand that even if it doesn't work, it might not kill him," Castiel says quietly, as he and Dean stare at Sam's motionless body.
"I know," Dean says. He knows that all too well. He turns away from his brother. Seeing Sam seemingly lifeless on the cot brings back too many bad memories. "It might just make him wish he was dead." He feels Castiel looking at him, but refuses to catch his eyes. He knows what is coming.
"And what are you prepared to do, if it comes to that?" the angel asks.
Dean leans against the cold iron wall and closes his eyes. He feels despair washing over him. He remembers Sam dying in his arms and being willing to give anything, even his own life, to undo that. He remembers his own shock and horror when Dad told him he'd have to save Sam or kill him. Dad didn't know it meant saving him from his own tortured soul, though.
"Whatever it takes," he says.
Castiel studies him for a moment, then nods. "Let me know if anything changes." With a fluttering whoosh, he is gone.
========
As Sam continues to push his way toward the light, he suddenly feels a familiar presence. "Castiel?" he says, spinning slowly as he searches the thick murky water. "Cas?" But there is no sign of the angel. Of course not, he realizes, as a dark memory creeps back into his consciousness. Castiel is dead. I watched him die. No... I killed him. I destroyed him with a snap of my fingers. Oh God, Cas, I am so sorry. And Bobby... I killed Bobby. I snapped Bobby's neck. They were trying to help Dean, and I killed them for it. I'm a fucking monster. They were trying to help Dean... oh God, what did I do to Dean? Sam puts his head in his hands as the horror of the memory sweeps over him... Castiel dead, Bobby dead, and Dean beaten to a bloody pulp as Sam's voice promised to break every bone in his body. He slowly begins to sink back toward the darkness. That's where he belongs. That's what he deserves. That's what he created. He kills everything he loves, he destroys everything he touches. Every decision he makes is wrong. He doesn't know what the light is, or why it's calling him, but this darkness is his.
=========
Dean knows he should go back upstairs, but Bobby will have questions, and he can't face them right now. He turns back to Sam. We saved you from Hell, he thinks. That's what's important. No matter what happens now, i got you out of hell, and that's all that that really matters. And maybe someday that will be true, that will be enough. But right now it's not. Right now he misses his brother so much that he can barely breathe. He kneels next to the cot and, on impulse, places his hand gently on Sam's chest. "Hang in there, Sammy," he says, softly. "You'll be okay. You've got to be okay." For a moment, his face crumples, and he puts his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. "Please be okay," he says, his voice breaking. "I need you to be okay." Then he sighs, pats Sam affectionately on the leg, and stands up. Time to put on his game face and explain to Bobby that things are still pretty fucked, but there might still be some hope. Not much, of course. There never was much.
=========
Sam is slowly sinking down, down toward the dark. He doesn't want to fight any more. He doesn't have the strength to fight, and even if he did, what is left to fight for? Everything is dead or broken beyond his ability to repair it. But as he drifts down, he feels a familiar presence again. Dean? Again he spins around, looking for a familiar face, and again he sees no one. But he feels his brother's steady presence; he can almost hear him calling his name. Dean needs him. Dean is looking for him. Dean is in the light and he needs him and Sam can't let him down. Not again. Slowly, painfully, Sam begins pushing himself toward the light.
=========
Bobby is waiting for Dean in the kitchen with a glass of whiskey. "Like my daddy always said, just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine." Dean accepts it gratefully. "Sam still asleep?"
"Yeah." As if I wouldn't have told you.
"He'll wake up."
"Yeah." Of course he will. Everything always goes our way, right?
"Dean, he's been through how much? Somehow, he always bounces back."
Dean swallows a comment about Bobby's sudden unbridled optimism. He knows Bobby's worried too, and is only playing the game they always play - if one of us is freaking out, the other has to hold it together. "He's never been through this."
"Yeah, but remember, he didn't sleep for over a year. Soul or no soul, a body needs sleep. He's just catching up. Kid's strong. He'll get through this."
"Yeah, speaking of..." Dean sighs. It's time to fix something that has been poking at him for a long time. "I know why Sam didn't find me when he got out of Hell. He didn't have a soul, so he didn't really give a crap about me. But you do. What's your excuse? Why'd you let me think he was still in the cage? You of all people knew what I was going through. That bullcrap about me finally being happy? You knew I wasn't happy. So what's the real story?"
Bobby looks away, seeming to consider his words carefully. "You're right. What I told you, it was... it was halfway true. I really did think you were better off not knowing. But it's not because I thought you were happy. Hell, I knew the only thing keeping you alive was that you promised Sam you wouldn't kill yourself." He refills his glass and takes a long drink. "The thing is, I thought you were better off not knowing about Sam because... because I wasn't entirely sure he was Sam. You shoulda seen him when he first showed up here. He was all kinds of strange, Dean. Real cold and clinical and looking like he was trying so hard to be Sam, but not quite getting it, you know? I mean, by the time you brought him back here, it was almost a year later. And he was believable, so he must have gotten some practice. But when I first saw him he was just not Sam. And believe me, I tested the hell out of that kid. He let me. He insisted on it." Dean nods, remembering how Sam performed the tests himself in Cicero. "And then when you accepted him, and he seemed more like himself, I just figured I was wrong, and it took him some time to get over Hell, so I stuck to the story he wanted to use. I'm sorry. I shoulda told you."
Dean drains his glass. He remembers the pain as the vampire sunk its teeth into his neck. He remembers the smile on Sam's face. "No, you might have been right. Doesn't matter now anyway."
============
Sam's eyes flicker open. He puts up a hand to shield them from the bright light in front of him, and feels a sharp jab of pain in his arm. He is confused and disoriented, but he's well-trained and instinctively does what John taught him to do when you wake up confused and disoriented. Assess the situation. Look for immediate threats (check for Dean), look for serious injuries (is Dean okay?), figure out where you are (where is Dean?), and remember what you can.
There's a light in front of him. No, it's above him. He's lying down. There's a light with a fan and... and a pentagram? Sam knows that light. It's the exhaust fan on the ceiling of Bobby's panic room. He's in Bobby's panic room. He's lying on the cot in Bobby's panic room. Which means he should be safe, even though he doesn't know who put him here (God, please let it be Dean).
He sits up and feels pain and tugging on his arm again. It's an IV. He doesn't seem to have any serious injuries, but someone is caring for him. Sam carefully slides the needle out of his arm and tries to remember why he is here. The last thing he remembers is...
Is a nightmare. He tries to stop the images from flooding his brain but it's impossible; he relives it all in gruesome detail. He was in a cemetery in Kansas. He opened Lucifer's cage and fell inside. He remembers the struggle. He gasps in horror as he remembers the power flowing through him, the power that obliterated Castiel and snapped Bobby's neck. His heart clenches when he remembers the feeling of his own fist punching Dean over and over.
Sam doesn't know why he's alive, why he's not in Hell. He only knows that Dean must be okay. No one else would have brought him here. "Dean?" Sam's voice is quiet and hoarse. Dean's not in here with him, but he wouldn't have left him alone. He's upstairs and he's alive and Sam's alive, and Sam has to find him.
And Sam Winchester finally walks out into the world he saved, and finds his brother waiting for him.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.