The Long Con - Chapter Three
Title: The Long Con - Chapter Three
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,945
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean, Bobby, Lucifer.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst
Summary: Lucifer: "It ends when you can't take it anymore."
Faced with a hallucination and his brother, Sam makes the wrong choice. Now he is alone in the world. What will Dean do to save him, and will he get there in time?
LIMP!SAM WORRIED!DEAN
AU Set S7 Episode 02 - Story picks up midway through Hello, Cruel World and takes an alternate path from the warehouse scene.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Up to Season Seven: Episode 2
Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta’ing this fic.
~ Chapter Three ~
"Flare guns, gasoline, torches, we're all set for wendigo central," Dean said as he rifled through the contents of the Impala's truck.
"Good to know," Sam said with a wry smile.
Dean's mood had improved exponentially since they had set out for the hunt. He had sung along with the stereo as Sam drove them to the state park. Sam was relieved by this change in his brother, and his own mood lightened to match.
Sam loaded a duffel with everything they would need as Dean watched approvingly.
"Been a while since we hunted a wendigo," Dean said conversationally. "Not since I busted you out of Stanford."
Sam frowned. He didn't like to think of that particular hunt. It had been shortly after Jess was killed and he had still been deep in the depths of his grief.
"What's up your butt?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam muttered, trying to find his way back to the lighthearted mood of only a few minutes ago.
Dean sighed. "Oh. Jess. You okay?" Sam could have been wrong, but he thought he heard a note of genuine concern in Dean's voice.
"I'm fine," Sam said automatically and patted the trunk. "Are you ready to go? This wendigo isn't going to kill itself."
Dean grinned. "Ready when you are."
Shouldering the duffel, Sam followed Dean onto the forest trail.
Sam had downloaded a map of the forest areas before they left the motel, and some hacking around had found them the coordinates of the missing hikers campground. They decided to start their hunt there.
Dean kept his eyes on his phone as they walked, reading the GPS. He stumbled occasionally, but when Sam offered to take a turn with the phone he refused. Sam thought he was worried Sam might try to call Bobby again. Sam didn't see why it was a problem. Surely it was important for them to keep in touch with Bobby. Anything could be happening to the older man with the Leviathans out there. He decided he would talk to Dean about checking in with him once they were done with this hunt.
After three hours hiking, they came to the place the hikers had camped. They found an area that looked like it had been chewed over by at least a dozen people. Boot-prints were everywhere, destroying any chance they had of following the trail of the wendigo-if there had ever been any tracks to follow. As Sam had once said, wendigos were near perfect hunters.
"Well, this sucks," Dean said, kicking at a fallen branch. "Deputy Dufus and his team have already been through here."
"It wasn't likely that we were going to find anything useful here, anyway," Sam said reasonably.
Dean snorted. "It's not like I brought anything useful with me either."
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "We have flare guns, gasoline…"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, we've got plenty of weapons. They should come in useful if we ever track it down. That's assuming it is a wendigo and not some inept hikers that took on a bear and lost."
"I told you, there was no sign of animals in their camp," Sam said.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember." Dean rubbed his jaw in silent contemplation of their surroundings. "So, where next?"
Sam had skimmed through his father's journal before they had left the motel. That and what he had learned firsthand from hunting a wendigo told him they needed to search for somewhere underground for the wendigo's lair.
There had been mention of a cave system on the forest's webpage, but there were no directions as to where they were. Moreover, they hadn't brought any camping gear with them. It would not be the first time they had slept under the stars with nothing but their clothes to keep them warm, but Sam had a feeling Dean would not be happy to do it again.
"I think we should head back to the motel and do a little more research," Sam said reluctantly.
"You didn't do enough already, library boy?" Dean asked with a smile.
It was the first time Dean had called him that in a long time, and that, coupled with the smile, made Sam grin in response. It seemed things weren't all bad after all. "I did plenty," he said. "But I don't know where the caves are here, and I think they're our best bet at finding the wendigo."
"Can't you use the phone to find what we need?" Dean asked. "It's got internet."
"I need to hack the park service's page to get to what we need. They aren't going to give directions to a bunch of dangerous caves to anyone that browses their site. They'd spend forever pulling people out of them. I need my real computer."
Dean shrugged. "Cave's can't be that hard to find. How big is this place anyway?"
"About ten thousand acres."
"Well, hell, Sam. Why didn't you think to look for caves before we came out here?" Dean asked irritably. It seemed his good mood had gone as fast as it had come.
"I didn't think…" Sam trailed off as something on a tree caught his eye. He rushed towards it and felt a surge of vindication as he saw the deep gores in the bark. "It's a wendigo!" he called over his shoulder. "Take a look at this."
Dean strolled up behind him. "Hmm, I guess you were right after all. Its lair has to be close." His eyes roved the trees.
"I think we should head back and check out the maps before we go looking, Dean. We haven't got the gear to camp out here overnight."
"I thought we agreed that I was the one in charge here," Dean snapped. "Seeing as I am the one with the fully functioning brain."
Sam's gaze snapped to the ground. "You're right."
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course I am. Now, let's go find us a cave." Dean strode off through the trees and Sam, despite the sinking sensation in his gut, followed dutifully.
They did find something of a trail to follow. It was almost like the wendigo wanted to be found. It had gored claw marks in many of the trees they passed. Dean was elated at the sight, and his mood lightened once again. As they walked, he hummed Stairway to Heaven.
Sam allowed himself a small smile. Dean was acting more like his old self than he had in a long time. Sam didn't realize how much Dean had changed over the last few years. There had been plenty to change him, most of it Sam's own fault. He had been the one that popped Lucifer out of his cage. He had been the one that had become addicted to demon blood. He had been the one that had thrown himself into Hell to trap Lucifer once and for all. So many mistakes had heaped on his account. He wondered how Dean had been able to stick with him for so long.
"What's with the bitch face?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking."
"Well that can't be good." Dean spun on his heel and looked Sam in the eye. "Are you seeing shit again?"
Sam shook his head, a little hurt that Dean thought he wouldn't have already told him if anything was amiss. "No, nothing that shouldn't be here."
Dean surveyed him for a minute and then nodded. "Good. If that changes, make sure you tell me. It's not safe for us to be out here hunting if your head's not in the game."
Nodding his agreement, Sam set out on the trail again.
They had walked another hour into the forest and Sam was wondering just how lost they were going to be before Dean conceded defeat when they found the caves.
"Ha! Looks like luck's on our side for a change," Dean said happily.
Sam let the duffel drop the ground, and he rooted through it for what they would need. He shoved a flare gun into the waistband of his jeans and handed the second to Dean.
"That'll do nicely," Dean said, checking the gun was loaded and showing it into his pants beside his .45.
They each took a torch and Sam shouldered the duffel again. Dean gestured Sam ahead of him, and they entered the caves. Sam was surprised that Dean let him lead; he usually preferred to go into any situation ahead of Sam.
The caves were dank and dark. Water dripped from the mossy walls, making light plunking sounds as it landed.
"Nice and creepy," Dean muttered under his breath.
"Yep, which is exactly what a wendigo will like."
They came to a fork in the caves, and Sam paused. "Which one do you think?"
Dean cast his torch beam around the mouth of the two entrances. "We could split up," he suggested.
Sam instantly felt the knot of fear in his gut tighten. "I don't know, Dean. When does splitting up ever work out for us? One of us always ends up getting hurt."
Dean was silent for a long time, and Sam wondered if he too was thinking of all the times they had been hurt while separated.
"You're right," Dean said reluctantly. "Which one do you think we should go down?"
Sam examined the two entrances. They looked almost identical. "I say we go down this one," he said, picking the left cave at random.
"Okay, let's get going. The longer we wait, the longer the wendigo lives, and I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to taking it out."
Sam smiled. It was good to see Dean excited for a hunt.
As they walked, Sam noticed strange shapes at the edges of the caves. He roved the flashlight onto the ground and swallowed back bile as he recognized human bones.
"I guess you were right," Dean said, clapping Sam on the shoulder. "Let's get on with it."
Sam pulled the flare gun out and leveled it in front of him. Dean mimicked the action, and together they set off down the path again.
The first thing to reach them was the inhuman screeching sound, and then it was upon them. It was bigger than the last wendigo they had faced and a lot faster. Dean was bowled over, and he crashed into the rocky wall. Both of his guns skittered across the ground as he slumped in a boneless heap.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, but there was no response. Dean was out cold, and Sam was on his own.
He searched the cavern for a sign of the wendigo, but it had vanished as fast as it had come. He hated to leave Dean, but Sam knew he had to find the wendigo and put an end to it before anyone else was hurt.
Casting his brother a regretful glance, Sam continued down the path. The stench grew thicker the further he went. It was a combination of rotting meat and the metallic tang of blood.
He saw a slight lightening ahead, and he stepped into a wide cavern. With a sinking sensation in his gut, he caught sight of two motionless figures suspended from the ceiling. He hurried towards them and pressed his fingers first against one's throat and then the other. He was too late. They were both dead.
He cursed under his breath and reached up the release the first man's shackled wrists. The least he could do was to ensure they were laid to rest with some dignity.
A sudden weight knocked him over. The wendigo was back. He allowed it to send him to the ground, rolling as he landed, gripping the flare gun against his stomach. The impetus of his roll sent the wendigo flying over him. It didn't take it long to recover itself. Soon it was bearing over Sam, reaching for his throat.
Sam reacted automatically, years of hunting coming to the fore. He raised his arm and discharged the flare gun in the wendigo's gut.
Bright light shone through Dean's eyelids and his head pounded. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like they had been glued shut.
"C'mon, princess, time to wake up," a gruff voice said beside him.
Dean struggled with his heavy lids and opened them a crack. "Sammy?"
"Afraid not."
Dean's eyes snapped open and fell upon Bobby sitting in a chair beside him. He surveyed his surroundings and saw he was in a hospital room. Memories rushed at him, Sam in the warehouse, Bobby's gutted house, Edgar throwing him into a car.
"I broke my leg?" he questioned, rubbing a hand over his stubbly jaw.
"A nice clean break," Bobby said. "So the doctors say."
"Why am I still here then?"
"Well, they drugged you to the gills to reset the break, and you've been out of it all night. Now you're awake, we can get out of here."
"Any word of Sam?" Dean asked.
"Actually, yeah. He called this morning. I missed him, unfortunately. I was on another call at the time, but he left a message."
Dean felt a wave of relief. His brother was at least alive. He didn't realize how great that fear was until now. Lucifer could have had him doing anything, including hurting himself. He was mortified to find tears springing to his eyes.
Bobby squeezed his shoulder, comforting Dean as best he could.
"What did he say?" Dean asked, looking away and thumbing the tears out of his eyes.
Bobby dialed up his message service and held the phone out to Dean. Dean smiled wanly as he heard his brother's voice coming over the receiver.
"Bobby, it's me. I'm just checking in, making sure you're okay. Dean told me what you said about keeping distance, but if you change your mind, give me a call. I'm worried about you."
He played the message through twice. He told himself it was to see if there were any clues in the background noise to Sam's whereabouts, but really he just wanted to reassure himself that his brother was okay.
"What do you think he means by 'Dean told me'?" Bobby asked.
"He's seeing me," Dean said. "Lucifer must be copying me to confuse him. It's a favorite pastime of Hell residents." He sighed. "When we were in the warehouse, I tried to reach him by showing him the difference between real pain and the pain of Hell."
"You hurt him?"
"I didn't want to," Dean said defensively. "It was all I could think to do."
"Sorry." Bobby raised his hands in front of him. "I didn't mean… Never mind. You tried to reach him, so what happened?"
Dean looked at a point above Bobby's head. "He said the real Dean wouldn't hurt him. He thought I was Lucifer. He took off on his own, only apparently he doesn't think he's alone. He's got Lucifer with him pretending to be me."
Bobby cursed. "And this keeping distance thing is Lucifer's doing."
"I guess so. Although, in the end, it's all Sam. Lucifer is just a figment of his imagination."
Bobby took off his cap and ran his hand through his graying hair. "This is such a damn mess. Why would Sam, or Sam's brain, want him to stay away from me?"
"Well, that's where I am drawing a blank. If it was really Lucifer in the driving seat, it would make sense. By separating us, he is making Sam weaker, but why Sam would subconsciously want to be away from us, I don't know."
"Maybe…" Bobby trailed off.
"Maybe what?" Dean asked harshly. "You think Sam wants away from us?"
Bobby looked awkward. "We we haven't exactly been one hundred percent behind him lately. Yesterday, when he told us about seeing Lucifer, we could have been a little more supportive and a little less accusatory."
"You mean I could have," Dean said. "I could have been more supportive."
Bobby turned his cap round in his hands. "We all made mistakes."
"Apparently me more than anyone. I've driven my brother off."
"Now, that's not what I am saying. If Sam was in his right mind, he would never have gone. But he's not. He's got Satan riding shotgun and pressing his buttons. On some unconscious level, he might even be thinking he's doing the right thing by us to take himself out of the equation. The boy is known for staggering acts of sacrifice."
Dean knew all too well what Bobby meant. Sam's guilt had led him to take a dive into Lucifer's cage.
"What are we going to do, Bobby?" Dean asked in a tremulous voice. "How are we going to find him?"
Bobby sighed heavily. "I don't know, boy. I have tried calling him a dozen times, but his phone is turned off. I've left messages, but who knows when he will pick them up, or if he even will."
"Well, first things first, let's get me out of here." He pushed back the covers and dragged himself round so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do you know where they stashed my clothes?"
"At the nurse's station, I think. I'll go get them for you."
Bobby disappeared out the door. Dean shifted himself to the edge of the bed and tugged out the IV line in his arm. Across the room was a pair of crutches leaning against the wall.
Thinking that it couldn't be that hard to get across the room with a cast, he pushed himself to his feet and promptly sprawled on the floor.
"Dammit," he cursed.