Purification 2/3

Jul 17, 2010 09:36

AKA the story that just won't end...LOL.



Bobby rarely, if ever, took things at face value. And there was no way in hell he was going to pour something into Dean's body if he wasn't sure what it was.

Even if an angel had told him what it was.

So he drove into town, went to the hospital, and called in several favours. He left samples of the contents of both syringes - asking for a rush job if possible - and then drove back home.

The first reply came when he was laughing at the boys' antics. Dean was making burgers on the grill outside and Sam was inside the kitchen making a salad and they were bickering over the second vegetable. Dean wanted fries. Sam wanted baked potatoes.

Bobby had checked out of the argument long before, stating they were both potatoes and he'd be glad to have either one. Now, he was standing in the doorway laughing as the bickering threatened to degenerate into a food fight, when his phone rang. He checked the number.

Finding it to be one of his hospital friends, he moved into the research room and answered it. "So what did you find?"

His hand gripped the cell phone as he learned it was a new and potent chemotherapy drug. One more concentrated than his friend had ever seen. "I....see," Bobby said. "So it could destroy marrow, then." Hearing the affirmative answer, he asked, "What time frame would we be lookin' at, here? .....four to five hours? Damn, that's quick. .....Well, yeah, I guess as concentrated as it is..... no, that's fine. It's just for information for my job. Thanks, man. I owe you one." He hung up and sighed, staring at the syringe on the table.

Now, he just had to wait for the results on the other one to come in. Then - and only then - would he break it to the boys.

He took a step toward the door and the phone went off again. He found it was his other friend. He answered it and asked, "What've you got for me, Jeannie?" He listened and then blew the air out of his cheeks. "I see. And could you get a DNA match?...Yeah, I'd love to----" His eyes closed. "You're sure about it. .....Okay, thanks. I owe you one. ....Yeah, see you later."

Bobby hung up and wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. Then he headed back out, finding they had compromised. There was a foil packet of fries happily griling away on one side of Dean's burgers, and two foil-wrapped potatoes grilling away on the other side.

Chuckling, he decided to talk to them after supper. That smelled too good to spoil.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After cleaning the grill and kitchen, Bobby took them into the research room. He showed them the syringes - and told them what the angel had told him.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back a little. "So let me get this straight," he said. "The clear stuff will destroy the marrow that keeps replicating the demon blood."

Bobby nodded, telling him the name of the drug. "It's new, and it's for chemotherapy. That's an ultra-concentrated form. It should do its work in 4 or 5 hours."

"Chemotherapy?" Dean gasped. He looked over at a visibly stunned Sam. "Huh. Guess the hair won't be a problem, then."

"You idjit, you're not gonna lose your hair," Bobby snarled. "It's too quick for that."

"Whose blood is that?" Sam asked, nodding at the second syringe.

Bobby sighed. "Yours." Then, remembering that it hadn't always been Sam looking out of those suddenly stunned green eyes, he shook his head. "Dammit, can get used to anything.... It's blood from the body you were born in."

"Dean's body, now," Sam said, the gravelly voice filling with ice. "Meaning, if what you said the angel said is true, it's full of demon blood."

"So we're back to square one," Dean sighed.

Bobby shook his head. "No, we're not. This is placental blood - given by your mother to help someone in need."

Both brothers drew in a shocked gasp. "But that means it's...." Dean gasped.

"The blood of an innocent," Sam breathed. "Freely given...."

"Motivated by love," Bobby finished. "It's holy, yeah. And that means---"

Dean was leaning forward now. "And that means it can cure me."

Sam nodded. "It can cure you of whatever the hell that demon did to me to make demon blood in your veins!" He paused, frowning. "And is it just me, or was that one effed-up series of pronouns in that sentence?"

Dean began to laugh. "Welcome to the rabbit hole, Alice!"

That set Sam to laughing, as Bobby just shook his head with a fond smile.

The smile fled as the laughter stopped and Dean picked up the clear syringe. He studied it for a few moments, then met Sam's eyes.

Without a word, he extended the hand holding the syringe toward his brother.

Without a word, Sam took it.

Dean shrugged out of the slightly too-small leather jacket he insisted on still wearing. He rolled up the sleeve of the plain yellow t-shirt.

And Bobby had to look away as Sam injected the body that used to be his with the first of the angel's syringes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This, Dean was convinced, was hell.

It had been five hours since the injection, and he was on the bed, unable to do anything but curl up around his rolling stomach and quake with agony. His bones ached - burned - from the inside out. He'd been running a fever and he was so tired that he was convinced if he drifted off, he'd pull a Rip Van Winkle and not wake for 30 years.

It was a consolation, though, that he had not given in to the nausea.

After watching his brother suffer for three hours, Sam had had enough. He'd toed off his boots and crawled onto the narrow bed, folding his body around his brother's 6'4" frame in such a way that he could embrace his upper body. He brushed the sweaty hair matting on Dean's forehead away and murmured words of nonsense that were meant to comfort.

It was almost a relief to hear Bobby announce, "It's been five hours. Want me to--"

"I'll do it," Sam said.

Bobby hesitated. "Sam, you did the first one. I'm not sure Dean could be still enough for--"

"Bobby," Dean groaned through a spasm of pain. "I. Want. Sam. To. Do. It."

After a moment of silence, Bobby said, "Good enough for me." And he brought in the blood-filled syringe.

Sam slid up the sleeve and whispered, "Sorry about this."

"Yeah," Dean groaned. "Me, too."

The needle touched his arm and slid in. Sam pressed the plunger hard and fast, emptying every last drop into his brother in seconds.

And Dean screamed.

Bobby yelled as - something - shoved him through the doorway and slammed the door shut. A second later, a bolt of invisible energy - rippling like a sonic wave - passed through Bobby and knocked him off his feet.

He glanced around wildly, to find his furniture and books being shoved aside like a huge invisible toddler was having a temper tantrum. The noise of it was incredible.

But over it all, he could hear Sam yelling at Dean. He couldn't make out the words, but the boy sounded completely freaked out.

Suddenly, everything stopped. Hovering things crashed to the ground and Bobby got to his feet, yelling for Dean and Sam.

The door opened, and Sam stood there, blood dripping from a shallow wound in his hairline. "Well," he said, the gravel in his voice deepening with his emotions, "that was a rather nasty surprise. I'd forgotten that was rattling around in my psyche."

"Dean?" Bobby asked, head tilting.

"Passed out. Finally."

"Let's get you cleaned up." That's what they spent the next few hours doing - cleaning up.

As they worked, at one point, Bobby suddenly said, "Dean, could you hand me the---" He froze, and they looked at each other. "........dammit, Sam......I'm--"

"No, it's okay." Sam chuckled slightly. "Actually, we've been waitin' for that. I'm just sorry Dean missed it!"

"Missed what?" came from the doorway. Dean was leaning against the frame, pushing sweaty bangs off his forehead.

"Bobby called me Dean," Sam said with a grin.

Dean's new dimples cut furrows in his cheeks as he returned the grin. "Yeah? Sorry I missed that!"

"You're both idjits," Bobby growled. "How you doin'?"

Dean considered. "Feelin' a little stronger. I'm in less pain, that's for sure. Except for my stomach."

"Stomach?" Sam asked. "Still nauseous?" He walked over to Dean.

Bobby remembered what the angel had said. "Sam, you might wanna back off'a him."

"What? Why?" This was nearly spoken in unison.

"That angel fella said that his body was gonna purge the demon blood. The way things have gone, I'm not gonna be surprised if he--"

Dean's eyes went huge and a hand clamped over his mouth. He staggered toward the bathroom - but didn't make it.. He fell to his knees, his stomach forcibly evacuating itself onto Bobby's hall floor.

It was nothing but blood.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On To Part Three

TBC...

fic, mileage au, supernatural

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