The Devil Inside Ch 2
Title: The Devil Inside
Genre: Hurt/Comfort lots of Dean!Whump, Gen
Pairings: None
Content: R for violence
Length: 2/5
Summary: Sam wants his brother back...be careful what you wish for.
Chapter Two
*
*
“Is this your brother, Mr Winters?”
Sam nodded. He swallowed back his emotion. He didn’t want them here. This was too precious - this time with Dean. Too valuable to share with strangers.
“He’s my brother.” He glanced over at the nurses. “You guys can leave now. We’ll be fine.”
Virgil pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, but, uh... we have orders...” he trailed off. Sam nodded again.
He watched Dean stare at the wall. So many questions, he wanted to know it all. Where did you go? What happened? What did you do? What are you thinking? Do you know it’s me? Do you know it’s Sam?”
He raised a hand - but from the corner of his vision, he could see Virgil tensing. A quick glance warned him off from touching Dean. The violence thing again. He cleared his throat.
“Dean...” he began. “I’m here now, and I’m gonna fix this. Whatever’s happening...with you...I’m going to fix it.” Dean stared at the wall.
Virgil and Todd shifted their positions.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
10 months earlier...
“Dean...” he began. “We can fix this. Whatever’s happening...with you...we can fix it.” It was only then that he could see his outstretched hand was shaking. A slight tremor cruelly betraying the firm, controlled voice he was aiming for. The pain in his shoulder gnawed incessantly - along with the realisation that his brother had just shot him.
“Shut up!” Dean barked. His gun still raised, strong and true.
“This isn’t you...you know that...”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, trying to shake off the excruciating pain that drilled into his skull. Detached for a moment, he pulled his head down, the pain forcing a grimace intense enough to mutate his face into...into someone barely resembling his brother, Dean. The gun waivered, and Sam considered rushing him.
“I...I have to do this...” he sobbed into his arm, now covering his face. “You won’t be safe...if...if I stay...”
Sam leant back against the wall, the change in position doing little to ease the gripping pain from his shoulder, but inside, the reality felt much, much worse.
Dean was right. He had to leave.
Whatever had Dean, whatever it was that was forcing him to kill indiscriminately, to torment, to attack without fear or consequence - wasn’t going to stop him from eventually killing Sam. That was as plain and at the same time, as painful as Sam had ever realised in his entire life.
Three weeks ago. That was the first time.
Dean’s stony silence hadn’t raised much notice from Sam that first day. They’d had days like that before - where one brother had almost bowed to the weight on their shoulders forcing some temporary shut-down in communication. In response, the other brother would simply learn to wait. Wait for it to pass. And it usually did.
And then, Sam had walked in on Dean with the vampire.
The culmination of a particularly gruesome, frantic, last ditch fight within a nest of young and vicious vampires, had the boys separated for a while. In the midst of the battle, Sam had successfully killed three of the nest, while Dean had struggled with the fifth last male assailant who had managed to drag him into another room. When Sam had careered in to back him up - the sight that greeted him had stopped him dead. Dean was kneeling on the vampire’s chest - the vampire’s mouth open and ready to retaliate, but helpless under Dean’s weight. Instead of the quick, trademark, efficient kill with his knife - Dean had taken the trouble to slowly push the tip of the knife into the vampires neck...the blood oozing down towards the floor boards and pooling at his right knee. As Sam watched, he could see the tension leaving his brother’s form - as if he was relaxing into the grizzly task. As if he was enjoying the slow, methodical aspect of the kill. Then he’d angled the knife towards the vampire’s eye...
“Dean?” he’d said, as the vampire arched and gasped beneath Dean. And Dean’s head had snapped around - a look of defiance...no guilt, no hesitation. He’d merely lifted his knife in both hands and plunged it into the vampire’s neck.
Dean took a sleeve across his face and refocused on his task. The gun remained, aimed at Sam’s chest this time. As he backed away - Sam inched forward.
“Dean...just...just another day...”
“No.”
“Whatever happens, I’ll be ready - I can handle it...” Pleading now.
“No...,” Dean whispered, his voice small and strained with emotion. “Don’t you get it?” He leant towards him now. “Don’t you see...how easy it would be for me to end you? “ He gestured towards his own head. “All this...all this pain I feel, this unbelievable weight I have dragging me down - drowning me...Sam...it would all go away if I just did what he wants.”
“You can take it...you’re - ”
“Strong?” Dean suddenly snorted, his eyes changing, realising his potential. “I’m strong, is that what you were gonna say?” His gaze locked onto Sam’s eyes, boring into him with intense determination. “I broke once, remember...we both know, I’ll do it again.”
“No...” Sam’s voice broke and he fought to regain his own strength.
Dean turned away. He stood up and pulled roughly at the worn grey hold all he called his own. A few items, nothing of importance - his mind set on leaving. On getting away.
Sam stood up on shaky legs. Dean watched him from the side of his vision. Sam licked his lips and forced his bloodied hand out towards him. He closed his eyes - the familiar push and pull of energy beginning to build. He could do this - he would do it, for Dean. A few seconds of effort would do it - Ruby had been wrong, he still had it - he could still pull demons from people - and he’d do it now. One more time.
But, Dean was ready. A simple side step had diverted the force of Sam’s power and he’d lunged at him from the side. As Sam opened his eyes - all he could see was the flash of Dean’s gun coming down onto his face. His head jerked back in a sick reaction to the force of the blow - Dean’s hate filled eyes the very last thing he saw.
The butt of Dean’s gun, the very last thing he felt.
Chapter 3
Genre: Hurt/Comfort lots of Dean!Whump, Gen
Pairings: None
Content: R for violence
Length: 2/5
Summary: Sam wants his brother back...be careful what you wish for.
Chapter Two
*
*
“Is this your brother, Mr Winters?”
Sam nodded. He swallowed back his emotion. He didn’t want them here. This was too precious - this time with Dean. Too valuable to share with strangers.
“He’s my brother.” He glanced over at the nurses. “You guys can leave now. We’ll be fine.”
Virgil pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, but, uh... we have orders...” he trailed off. Sam nodded again.
He watched Dean stare at the wall. So many questions, he wanted to know it all. Where did you go? What happened? What did you do? What are you thinking? Do you know it’s me? Do you know it’s Sam?”
He raised a hand - but from the corner of his vision, he could see Virgil tensing. A quick glance warned him off from touching Dean. The violence thing again. He cleared his throat.
“Dean...” he began. “I’m here now, and I’m gonna fix this. Whatever’s happening...with you...I’m going to fix it.” Dean stared at the wall.
Virgil and Todd shifted their positions.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
10 months earlier...
“Dean...” he began. “We can fix this. Whatever’s happening...with you...we can fix it.” It was only then that he could see his outstretched hand was shaking. A slight tremor cruelly betraying the firm, controlled voice he was aiming for. The pain in his shoulder gnawed incessantly - along with the realisation that his brother had just shot him.
“Shut up!” Dean barked. His gun still raised, strong and true.
“This isn’t you...you know that...”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, trying to shake off the excruciating pain that drilled into his skull. Detached for a moment, he pulled his head down, the pain forcing a grimace intense enough to mutate his face into...into someone barely resembling his brother, Dean. The gun waivered, and Sam considered rushing him.
“I...I have to do this...” he sobbed into his arm, now covering his face. “You won’t be safe...if...if I stay...”
Sam leant back against the wall, the change in position doing little to ease the gripping pain from his shoulder, but inside, the reality felt much, much worse.
Dean was right. He had to leave.
Whatever had Dean, whatever it was that was forcing him to kill indiscriminately, to torment, to attack without fear or consequence - wasn’t going to stop him from eventually killing Sam. That was as plain and at the same time, as painful as Sam had ever realised in his entire life.
Three weeks ago. That was the first time.
Dean’s stony silence hadn’t raised much notice from Sam that first day. They’d had days like that before - where one brother had almost bowed to the weight on their shoulders forcing some temporary shut-down in communication. In response, the other brother would simply learn to wait. Wait for it to pass. And it usually did.
And then, Sam had walked in on Dean with the vampire.
The culmination of a particularly gruesome, frantic, last ditch fight within a nest of young and vicious vampires, had the boys separated for a while. In the midst of the battle, Sam had successfully killed three of the nest, while Dean had struggled with the fifth last male assailant who had managed to drag him into another room. When Sam had careered in to back him up - the sight that greeted him had stopped him dead. Dean was kneeling on the vampire’s chest - the vampire’s mouth open and ready to retaliate, but helpless under Dean’s weight. Instead of the quick, trademark, efficient kill with his knife - Dean had taken the trouble to slowly push the tip of the knife into the vampires neck...the blood oozing down towards the floor boards and pooling at his right knee. As Sam watched, he could see the tension leaving his brother’s form - as if he was relaxing into the grizzly task. As if he was enjoying the slow, methodical aspect of the kill. Then he’d angled the knife towards the vampire’s eye...
“Dean?” he’d said, as the vampire arched and gasped beneath Dean. And Dean’s head had snapped around - a look of defiance...no guilt, no hesitation. He’d merely lifted his knife in both hands and plunged it into the vampire’s neck.
Dean took a sleeve across his face and refocused on his task. The gun remained, aimed at Sam’s chest this time. As he backed away - Sam inched forward.
“Dean...just...just another day...”
“No.”
“Whatever happens, I’ll be ready - I can handle it...” Pleading now.
“No...,” Dean whispered, his voice small and strained with emotion. “Don’t you get it?” He leant towards him now. “Don’t you see...how easy it would be for me to end you? “ He gestured towards his own head. “All this...all this pain I feel, this unbelievable weight I have dragging me down - drowning me...Sam...it would all go away if I just did what he wants.”
“You can take it...you’re - ”
“Strong?” Dean suddenly snorted, his eyes changing, realising his potential. “I’m strong, is that what you were gonna say?” His gaze locked onto Sam’s eyes, boring into him with intense determination. “I broke once, remember...we both know, I’ll do it again.”
“No...” Sam’s voice broke and he fought to regain his own strength.
Dean turned away. He stood up and pulled roughly at the worn grey hold all he called his own. A few items, nothing of importance - his mind set on leaving. On getting away.
Sam stood up on shaky legs. Dean watched him from the side of his vision. Sam licked his lips and forced his bloodied hand out towards him. He closed his eyes - the familiar push and pull of energy beginning to build. He could do this - he would do it, for Dean. A few seconds of effort would do it - Ruby had been wrong, he still had it - he could still pull demons from people - and he’d do it now. One more time.
But, Dean was ready. A simple side step had diverted the force of Sam’s power and he’d lunged at him from the side. As Sam opened his eyes - all he could see was the flash of Dean’s gun coming down onto his face. His head jerked back in a sick reaction to the force of the blow - Dean’s hate filled eyes the very last thing he saw.
The butt of Dean’s gun, the very last thing he felt.
Chapter 3