SPN: Give Me a Reason; R; Dean, Lucifer, Sam
Title: Give Me a Reason
Rating: R
Characters: Dean, Sam, Lucifer
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Before he dies, Lucifer shows Dean what happened in Detroit. coda to 5.04
Warnings: Multiple character death, mentions of severe torture, harsh language
Note: Need to find a better way to organize my things... Will work on it!
"Bastard."
That thing wearing his brother’s face turns, its lips quirking in amusement. He's got the colt up, aimed right between its eyes, and without a thought he takes the shot.
The bullet doesn't even phase the damn thing, and he feels every last hope he'd sworn he didn't have sink into his gut. It just chuckles, still wearing his dead brothers face, and flicks a hand. Dean goes flying like he belongs to the air, though the slam to the wall wasn't really necessary. That shit still hurts, damn it all.
"Son of a bitch, how the hell are you still standing?!" Dean's pissed, there's no doubt about that, and if Cas manages to survive the massacre inside, he's gonna rip that damn angels head off.
"There are five things your little gun can't kill, and lo and behold, one of them is me." Its smile is indulgent, and the Colt is then dust. With a sad sigh, it turns old eyes to him, looking Dean over. "The only reason I'm offering you this chance is because I want your brother to be happy. And seeing you here? That doesn't make him happy, not one bit."
"Don't you talk to me about him you piece of shit!" The last thing he wants to talk about is his brother. The man who disappointed him, let him down, the ungrateful brat who did the worst thing possible and fucking said yes. "That son of a bitch is dead, and good God damn riddance!"
"And history repeats itself. I'm sorry to hear that." It goes quiet, seeming to draw in on its thoughts, and comes back. "You shouldn't say such things about your brother, Dean. He only did what he thought was best. And really, it's not his fault. It's yours."
Something knocks loose inside of him, an old fear he'd thought he'd put to rest a long time ago. He ignores it. "Shut up. He's dead, and I'm through discussing it."
"Then just listen. After all, this may be the last time you ever hear Sam--"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!" It’s got no right, no fucking right, to say that name with that face, with those lips, with that voice.
He may as well have not spoken at all.
"--speak again. You may not survive today." He's ignoring it now, not even gonna bother. It must notice, because it just laughs quietly at him, like he's a new entertainment that isn't expected to amuse it long. "Well, all right then. If you're so sure you know everything, than tell me. What happened in Detroit?"
Silence is its answer, because Dean doesn't know. Doesn't want to know. And something tells him that if he finds out, he'll never recover.
"Well then. Let me show you."
It's black.
---
"The answers no. It will always be no. Nothing you do to me will make me say yes!"
No, not possible. That's his brother’s voice, but...
They're standing across from each other, his brother and the thing he'll become. It’s shaking its head, aggravated, and his brother...
His brother is saying no.
"Sam, don't make me do this. I don't want you unhappy. You released me. You are the reason I'm here, free from my prison. And no one, not even your brother, can understand you better then I can."
That's bull shit. No, he didn't know why his brother said yes, but damn it, no one knows his brother better than he does.
"That's bull shit! You don't know me, and you don't have my permission. I'm not agreeing to this!"
His brother ends up slammed into... Something. A wall. They're in a warehouse. How the hell did he not see that? Doesn't matter now, because what ends up in front of him is a thousand times more important.
"Dad?"
And he screams.
That's how it goes, for... He doesn't even know. But it feels longer than anything. Longer than his stint in Hell, longer then the worlds end. Years, decades, centuries. All different people, some he doesn't know, but most he does. And they all scream. They all scream, because it's torturing them. It's doing things that make Alistair's sessions look like nothing. And it doesn't stop.
His brother... God, his brother begs. Dean's only just noticed, but his brother's being tortured to. He begs it to let his family, his friends, all those people... He begs it to let them go. But it doesn't. So through the torture, through the screams, through the bloods, and the guts, and the gore, all his brother can do is say he's sorry. He's sorry, because all he'll ever say is no.
It stops, then. Just... Quiet. All he can hear is his brother breathe, and all he can see is that thing as it moves to him, lifting his brother's chin and looking him in the eye.
"Is that still your answer?"
"Fuck you."
It nods, like it knew. "I have something for you. Maybe then you'll see things my way."
It's gone, just vanished. And in its place... In its place, Dean can see himself. His brother struggles, yells, curses and does everything he can to find out a way to get rid of him, but nothing works.
And so they sit, eyeing each other. Unsure, after however long has passed, what to say to each other now. Now that it's come to this.
Typical. "So... How's life?"
His brother cracks a smile, and seeing it reminds Dean just how young his little brother actually is.
"You don't wanna know, De. You just... You really don't wanna know."
He sees himself protest the hated nickname, but he feels something warm inside when his little brother laughs. It's been so long since he last heard it, he's forgotten the sound. Stopped trying to make it happen when life had gotten too hard.
They talk. Just... Everything, finally, laid out on the table. They rage at each other, they cry stupid manly tears, they come clean in ways they haven't since they were small. It's impossible to tell how long it takes, but it happens. And when it finally comes back around to how they got here... His brother hesitates, but he tells him. Tells him what he's seen, tells him what's happened to him, what's been happening to the people they know.
His past self, because that's all he can think to call this other Dean, is true to form. Gets pissed off, yelling for the thing to face them if it dares. That it doesn't matter what it does, they're brothers, and nothing can come between that.
It's back.
His brother goes to yell a warning, and finds he has no voice. He struggles harder than ever, and his other self is telling him not to worry, that whatever happens, he's not gonna let his brother die alone.
It stands before the Dean from the past. His other self glares, fierce as anything, and stays silent. Then the torture starts. He holds out as long as he can, but eventually, he gives in to the screams.
There's no respite. His brother is yelling, but there's no sound coming from him, and for all intents and purposes, it may as well have forgotten his brother is there. It doesn't turn the torture, only concentrates on the one in front of him, works to find how to draw every scream and whimper from his body. His brother is still yelling.
He's not sure how long it lasts. It doesn't feel as long as before, when they were talking, or when it was torturing all the others. But it lasts a while. A long, long while.
It's over now, but the thing is still ignoring his brother, so he can't feel too bad. It's talking to his past, though, quietly, and he strains to hear.
"Do you know what caused this, Dean? Why this had to happen to you? You, who has done so much to save all who can be saved?" His past self doesn't answer, just stares ahead, ignorant of the world around him. "You'd been doing so well, all on your own. No one extra to take care of, no one else you had to worry about. Just a job to do, and you're good at it. But then... Someone had to go and ruin that for you. Do you know who?"
His past self doesn't even flinch. Just... Hangs there. Like a rag doll.
"Your brother, Dean. Sam. He's the reason. Because he won't say yes."
Something dark passes in the other Dean's eyes, and he knows what's going to happen, and knows there's nothing he can do to stop it.
"I don't have a brother. Sam... He died, a long time ago. When he was still in the cradle."
His brother is staring, wide-eyed, and shattered. Shaking his head, muttering under his breath, and Dean can see there's nothing left for him. Nothing.
"What took his place... That thing... It's nothing but a monster. I should have killed it when I had the chance."
NO.
Nononononono. He's never thought that, NEVER. Not about Sam, not his Sammy, he's not a monster, he's just a kid damn it! It's his little brother, it's not his fault, he's human, he's human, he's human!
"That's all I wanted to know."
His past self is gone, and Dean wants nothing more than to put a bullet through his head. There's no excuse for that shit, nothing, not a damned thing, and to say that, how could he say that?! It's a trick, it has to be, it's a God damned trick, SAM!!
"You don't believe it, do you?"
Sam doesn't answer, doesn't even look at it, but Dean can see the tears streaming down his baby brother's face, and it tears him apart inside. God, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this.
"But you know I can make it happen. I don't like doing this to you, Sam. You're special, important to me. I need you with me in this."
His baby boy, his brave, fearless little brother, lifts his head, and ends it all.
"Leave Dean out of this. Leave him alone, make sure he never knows what happened... And I'll do it. I'll say yes. But only if you leave my brother alone."
It smiles.
"Done."
---
It's his time again. He can tell, because it's wearing Sam like it owns his little brother, and Dean can't remember a time when he's been so furious.
"You son of a bitch, let him go!"
It laughs, really, really laughs. And it's such a twisted version of the sound he knew, it makes his soul ache.
The thing wearing his brother calms enough to smile. "Not a chance."
He's lifted, high as can be, and with no warning, he's free falling, straight to the Earth.
He's dead before he hits the pavement, and all he can think is I'm sorry.
---
It was the next day. The sun still rose, the moon still set.
And the demons shed blood tears.
Their Master, their Lucifer, their glorious angel...
No one could understand. No one could think of a reason why.
A leather cord lay wrapped around their Master's wrist; attached to it, a golden amulet.
And in their leader’s chest... An Archangel's blade.