Fic: If I Have Freedom (2/15)
Chapter I: The Undiscovered Country
Chapter II: Taste Not the Pierian Spring
"I would be obliged," Bobby's voice said in Dean's ear, "if you two would just let me know when you're done trying to kill me. So, you know, I can throw a party. Could even ask that nice woman next door if she'll make pie."
"The one that you freaked out by putting a woman through her wood-chipper?"
"It wasn't a woman, it was -"
"Bobby."
"Yeah. Sorry. Focus. Dean, this is a stupid idea."
"I know it's a stupid idea, but you know Sam when he gets all noble and unselfish. It's like arguing with a brick wall. Since I can't stop him, I'm going to make sure this is done right and with minimal damage to Sam. So can we come to your place?"
"Where else would you go?" Bobby grumbled. "Get your asses down here."
"Panic room?" Sam's voice held the first hint of uncertainty Dean had heard in it all day.
"Just in case, Sammy. Not going to put you in lockdown or anything. It's just a precaution, and we might not even need it, but better safe than sorry, right?"
"Yeah… Yeah, I'm sorry. Let's go."
Dean stayed half a step behind Sam all the way down the stairs. Every instinct was warning him against this, something in his head was muttering about how it was eight kinds of stupid and they had to stop before it went to eight kinds of hell, but…
This was Sam. If Dean had really believed there would be irreparable damage to his brother, he would never have allowed it, Apocalypse or not. But he knew his Sammy like nobody else did, not Bobby, not Cas, not Crowley or Death. Sammy was a lot stronger than anyone gave him credit for, especially when he had Dean at his back. If anyone could survive the restoration of nearly two hundred years' worth of memories of endless torture, it was Dean's little brother.
Sam hesitated in the doorway to the panic room.
"Go on," Dean said. Go on, I'm right behind you.
Sam went. Dean followed, stopping just short of the Devil's Trap. It took everything he had to stand there while Sam sat on the cot, trying to look like he wasn't scared and almost making it.
Bobby stepped in with a pair of cuffs, Sam flinched at the sight of them.
"He's not detoxing or soulless," Dean pointed out, fighting to stand still. "He doesn't need them."
"When those memories come flooding back, he might start thrashing about and hurt himself."
Sam's eyes met his, wide and scared and pleading. Dean lost the fight.
"That's OK. I'll take care of it." He pushed past Bobby to sit on the cot behind Sam. "The things I have to do for you! You owe me for this one, Sammy." He grabbed Sam under the arms and pulled him back.
"Dude!" Sam pulled away, going scarlet. "You're not going to -"
"Yeah, I am, because Bobby's right. We don't know what effect this is going to have and we can't have you flailing and knocking yourself out. It's this or the cuffs, Sam."
"But -"
"Sam."
Sam glared at him half-heartedly. Dean glared back, hoping this wasn't going to turn into a standoff. He couldn't put Sam in those cuffs, not when Sam had given him that look and the cuffs meant demon blood and the Sam who wasn't Sam and screaming and hallucinations and -
Sam looked down. Dean let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure if Sam would give in: the kid could be stubborn as hell.
"Come on, Sammy."
He took hold of Sam's arms and pulled him back again. Sam didn't protest this time, settling back against Dean's chest. Dean held him, trapping him so that his arms were immobile but keeping his grip gentle.
"Ready?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Cas! Get down here."
Cas had been waiting just outside the door. He came in and walked carefully around the Devil's Trap before stepping into it.
"What, you don't trust us?" Dean asked.
"It's Sam and you seem to think I'm out to do him some form of injury. Of course I don't trust you."
"Fair enough. Get on with it."
Cas sat on the edge of the mattress.
"Sam, I'm going to start now. I'm going to reach into your mind. You - well, it'll be a little like it was when Lucifer was in your head. But it's just me. Don't get alarmed and don't react." At Dean's raised eyebrow, Cas added, "He trapped Lucifer and held him long enough to open the Cage, have an argument with Michael and then jump in."
Sam grinned. "Don't worry. Dean won't be helping me this time."
"I wouldn't count on that. When you were packing this morning he took me aside and said that if this went - sideways, I believe, was the word he used - he would pull out all my feathers and make me eat them."
"Just get on with it," Dean snapped.
Cas shrugged. "You did say it. Sam, the memories will come back slowly, and it will be some time before they become overwhelming. Just focus on me and what I'm saying and I should be able to guide the way they come enough that you can tell me what you know about Purgatory before… Well, before anything can go wrong."
"Cas." Dean's voice was a dangerous growl.
"Dean," Sam said mildly. Then, to Cas, "OK, don't react when you're in my head. Got it. Now can we just get this over with so Dean can stop trying to crack my ribs?" Dean responded with a hard, quick jerk that really did take Sam's breath away for a second, although he immediately felt guilty and rubbed Sam's ribs in silent apology. Sam patted his hand. "Cas?"
Cas rested his right hand on Sam's head. For a minute nothing happened. Then Sam stiffened.
"Cas?" Dean asked.
"He's just getting used to it. It can take several seconds - maybe less in Sam's case because he's had an Archangel in his head already."
Sam shifted, trying to push himself closer to Dean.
"Cas?"
"Calm down, Dean. This is normal."
Sam made a sound halfway between a whimper and a sob.
"CAS!"
"The more you keep interrupting me, the longer this will take, Dean. Just let me talk to Sam. Sam?"
"Y-yeah."
"Can you feel me in your head?"
"Yeah." It was a pained whisper, and it made Dean tighten his arms.
"You have to help me now. I'm going to start bringing the wall down, and you have to help me make sure that it's the right memories that come back first. Try to think about Purgatory - not as an intellectual concept, but how it makes you feel. You don't have to say anything. Just think about it."
Sam shut his eyes.
Minutes ticked by in total silence. Dean exchanged a glance with Bobby, neither of them knowing more than what they could read from Sam's tight jaw and Cas's frown of concentration.
"Sam." When Cas spoke, it startled both Dean and Bobby, making Bobby jump and get a hand on his shotgun and Dean pull Sam protectively closer. Cas looked a little exasperated, shook his head, and turned to Sam, who now had his eyes open and on the angel. "Answer my questions, Sam," Cas said. "Quickly - I'm holding back the rest of the memories, but I can't do it for long. We won't have much time." Sam nodded. "To begin with, how do you know how to get to Purgatory?"
"Michael," Sam said softly, words rasping out. "Michael told me."
"Why?"
"Wanted me to try… Fun for him. He knew… Knew I wouldn't be… able…"
"How do you get to Purgatory?"
"From… there."
"Yes, I know you get there from the Cage, but how, Sam?"
"Have to go down… deeper. Much deeper."
"Deeper into Hell? The Cage is the very bottom of it."
"Yeah. Like… I don't know… Bending space-time? You should know… Hell and Heaven… Same thing. Opposite sides. Get to the end of Hell… You get to Heaven from the other direction."
"That's Purgatory?"
"Purgatory."
"So… you just go deeper and you're there?"
"No. Barrier."
"Barrier?"
"Lethe."
"Lethe? You mean one of the five rivers of Hades? The River of Unmindfulness? Sam, that's just a legend."
"Dante's Lethe… Guilt. Only… Don't think it's really a river. More like a… a barrier."
"And you crossed it?"
"I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Didn't… didn't deserve it."
For some reason that made Dean rub Sam's ribs again, soothingly. He didn't know what the hell was going on but he didn't like it. Sam was trembling, rasping out words as though each one physically pained him. One minute. Just one more minute and he was going to pull the plug on this.
"Why didn't you deserve it, Sam?"
"Cas," Dean snarled.
The angel ignored him. "Sam? Why didn't you deserve it?"
"Hell's… Hell's for the damned… Purgatory… for people who can be… forgiven."
Dean felt something inside him go cold. Sam - Sam thought -
Right. That's it.
"Cas -"
"Let me finish, Dean. We don't have more than two minutes now. Sam, what do you mean? You can only cross the barrier if you deserve forgiveness for your sins?"
"If… if you think you do."
"And you thought you didn't?" Dean asked, unable to stay quiet at that.
"Knew I didn't."
A sharp glance from Cas cut off whatever Dean had been planning to say. He rested his cheek on the top of Sam's head - hey, it had comforted the kid when he'd been a kid - and tightened his hold as much as he could without actually cutting off Sam's air supply.
"So… that's it? You just go there and cross the barrier?"
Sam smiled. "Not… not as easy… as it sounds. Tried… Tried a lot… They thought it was fun. To watch."
"And this barrier is in the Cage?"
"On the other side."
"So you have to go through the Cage?"
"Yeah."
"It's that easy to get out of the Cage?"
Sam shrugged. "On that side… Nowhere to go… Unless you cross the barrier… Lethe. Can't… Can't get back up without… doing that."
The last word broke off in a harsh sob.
"Sam?" Cas said. "Sam, can you tell me -"
"No, he can't," Dean snapped. "That's it. You're done. Question time's over. Easy, Sammy. I've got you. You're going to be fine. Cas, can you help him?"
"Right now, no. The memories have to come back. It'll take some time. If I try to patch the wall up now it won't hold and it'll just be worse when it finally happens. Once they're back, I'll see what I can do. In the meantime I'll see if I can follow Sam's directions to Purgatory."
Dean stared. Sam was starting to shake in the way that meant he was inches away from crying.
"You're just leaving him like this and running off to chase Purgatory?"
"I can't help him now, Dean. I can't help anybody by sitting here and watching his memories come back. I will return and I will do what I can for Sam. I'll ask around. Someone else might know more about how to deal with his condition."
"You're joking, right?"
"Dean, listen to me. We will find a way to help him. I just need time. All right?"
"Yeah, well, you listen to me, Cas. You'd better find a way to help him, because if you don't, I will hunt you down, and I will -"
"I know. Pull off all my feathers and -"
"Cas."
"Fine. I understand, Dean."
Then Cas was gone. Dean would have cursed, but there wasn't time, not with Sam quivering like that and -
Sam screamed.
Oh God. OhGodohGodohGod.
"Dean?" Bobby asked. "Do you need me to…" He raised the handcuffs that he was still holding.
"No." Dean had made a promise, and he was going to keep it. He was going to take care of Sam and those things were not going on his brother again. "No, just… Shhh, Sammy… Just give us some time. Don't think he's going to know if you're here or not for a while."
Bobby nodded, understanding. "Yell if you need me."
As soon as he'd gone, Dean, pulled Sam around to hold him more comfortably.
"Freaking Sasquatch. You have got to lay off the doughnuts, dude."
"No," Sam choked. "No, please."
"Hey, I was just kidding. What happened to your sense of humour?" Dean said, desperation edging his voice because he knew that Sam wasn't upset about the doughnut crack.
He had his confirmation a second later.
"No, I'm sorry, please… Please don't, not that… Please."
Sammy was reliving his Hell as nearly two centuries' worth of memories poured into his mind, and Dean felt his gut clench as though he were down there watching it.
"I've got you, Sammy. I'm here." It was useless, but Dean said it anyway.
Sam screamed, and this one was pain, not fear.
Should it bother me that I can tell the difference?
But the answer to that didn't matter, nothing mattered except that Sam was screaming as though he were being - no, don't go there - Sammy was screaming, and there was nothing Dean could do but hold him and try to rock him through the quivering and whisper pointless words of comfort.
The scream died out into hoarse sobbing, but this time there were words in it.
"Dean… Dean."
"I'm here."
"Dean, please. I'm sorry… Please."
"Please what, Sam?"
"Please."
"Sammy, you can have anything you want, kiddo, but you have to tell me what."
"Please don't - I'm sorry - I won't. I promise. Please… please."
And Dean felt his heart go down to his stomach, because it figured - of course it damn well figured - that Lucifer and Michael would use his form to torture Sam. What better way to torment him than that?
The screaming started again, this time with "Dean" and "please" mixed in.
Dean swallowed, blinked rapidly, and grabbed Sam's arms to keep him still. "Shhh, Sammy, it's not real." The screams built in intensity. Dean pulled Sam in closer, tighter, but he knew that not even he could keep Sam safe from his own memories. "It's OK, Sammy. I'm here." The screaming died to agonized sobs and pitiful whimpers that tore at Dean's heart. "I've got you, Sammy. You're safe."
"Dean?" Sam was looking up at him - at him, not at Michael or Lucifer wearing his face to torture Sam.
"Yeah, Sammy. I've got you. You're OK."
"Dean. You're real." Sam sounded like a kid on Christmas morning. "You're -"
He broke off into another scream.
It lasted for what seemed like days, although his wristwatch told him it was barely an hour and a half - damn thing's probably broken - and Dean could do nothing but hold Sam, reassure him in the few lucid moments he had and whisper to him through the sobs and the screaming, hoping desperately that something was getting through.
An hour and a half, and Sam's sobs began to weaken, no longer building up into screams. Dean wasn't fooled: it was exhaustion, not an improvement in Sam's mental state.
But at this point he was willing to take anything he could get. When Sam finally slumped in his arms, no longer writhing and yelling, now just whimpering weakly as near-noiseless tears soaked Dean's shirt, Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"OK, Sammy, how about you try and get some sleep now, and let your big brother sleep, too?"
Sam didn't respond. Dean hadn't been expecting a reply. He changed his grip, supporting Sam's head with one hand and rubbing his back with the other the way he'd done when Sam had been a baby. Sam relaxed at his touch, going quiet, the trembling gradually stopping and his harsh, quick breaths getting slower and more even.
"That's it, Sammy," Dean soothed. A shadow fell across the floor. He glanced up, saw Bobby, spared him a wry grin and returned his attention to Sam. "That's it, just sleep now. I'm right here, OK? Not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here when you wake up."
When he sensed Sam finally fall asleep, Dean slid off the bed and lowered him carefully to it. Sam stirred, but settled down again when Dean rubbed his head.
"He better?" Bobby asked softly.
"No. Just worn himself out."
"You want to go stretch your legs? I can sit with him for a bit."
"No." Dean looked at Sam. His little brother was sleeping, too wrung out even to dream - which, considering that this was Sam, was the best thing ever. He sat on the edge of the bed, where Cas had been sitting earlier. "Thanks, Bobby, but I'm good right here."
Chapter III: The Gifts which I Bestow