Stitch in Time, Part 2/2
Title: Stitch in Time, Part 2/2
Pairing: None
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Roy Le Grange
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 2--should fit in anywhere between Crossroad Blues and Nightshifter, until I get Kripke'd.
Warnings: Bit of cussing, daddy angst
Huge thanks to fanficwriter1966 and missyjack.
Part One here.
Part two
It was easier than he’d expected. Le Grange lived in the same old farmhouse in Bumfuck, Nebraska in 1991 as he would in 2006. The land on which the large white church tent would one day be erected was a field of overgrown grass and weeds, but the house looked much the same as Dean remembered.
The hard part had been getting away from John for the day, and after leaving under a cloud of suspicion he continually threw glances in the rearview mirror of the VW he’d stolen to check if he was being followed.
Dean sat parked in the driveway, considering his options. He’d driven there with no plan. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually talk to Roy, or Sue Ann…no. Not Sue Ann. Bitch was crazy. If the little book of black magic was already in her possession, would it make a difference if he simply stole it? Or would she still find a way to bind the reaper when it came after Roy? He gripped the steering wheel, thinking about how many people’s lives would be affected if Sue Ann‘s “work“ never began.
What Sue Ann was going to do was wrong--but was he any better? Was he playing God by trying to change the future? And what would happen to him, if this worked? Would he just fade into nothing? A year. It had been a year since the electrocution. Hopefully Sam would have had the sense to salt and burn him.
Jesus. Sam. The thought of his brother nearly caused him to start the engine and go back to John.
He bit his lip and steeled himself, willed his mind to focus on the task at hand. He had a chance to fix this. He’d be saving Marshall Hall and the others Sue Ann had deemed unworthy of life, and he was going to stop his father from condemning himself to hell. He had taken the first step by coming here. Now he just had to figure out what step two was going to be.
There was only one easy, sure way to go about it--put a bullet in Sue Ann‘s brain. But the one easy, sure way was the one thing he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t Gordon fucking Walker, for Christ’s sake.
Sighing, he stepped out of the beaten up old Beetle, squinting in the mid-afternoon sun, and decided to knock on the door and see what would happen next.
***
The truth won in the end. A brown-haired Roy had answered the door, and no, his wife wasn’t home, but was there something he could do for you, son?
Roy was a good man. A good man who had married a woman who would one day turn into a monster. And since he was a good man, he didn’t want to believe his wife was capable of such crimes.
Dean left the farm, the hour he’d spent with Roy a total blur. He had searched the study for Sue Ann’s book, pulling out large volumes and replacing them when he found nothing. He’d talked, hadn’t backed off, hadn’t faltered until he could almost physically feel the stinging effect each of his words was having on the preacher. And by the end, Roy had almost looked convinced.
As he drove back to the motel room he and his father were sharing, he hoped when Roy started to get sick, maybe he’d remember and believe him.
And that was all he could do.
***
John surprised him. Didn’t ask where he’d been all day, didn’t even bring it up. He did, however, show him a few theories he’d found about time travel, all of which added up to fucking nothing. There was an unspoken agreement that there would be no alcohol tonight, no alcohol for the remainder of Dean’s stay. Too much information had been shared already, and tension hung in the air between them after the heavy emotion of the night before.
So they did what Winchesters do and ignored it until they finally decided to lie down and get some sleep.
***
“Dean, wake up. Dude, come on. It’s almost eleven.”
He groaned into the pillow, shoving Sam’s too-close-to-groping-for-his-comfort arms away. “Go ‘way.”
Sighing, Sam folded his arms across his chest. His brother didn‘t want to be touched? Fine. But his ass was gonna get out of that bed. “Seriously, man. Ellen’s making lunch, then we should get back on the road. Find a hunt, before any other hunters find us.”
Right. They’d both been more than a little wary of any other hunters since the debacle with Gordon. They’d crashed at the roadhouse out of pure and simple exhaustion after…wait.
Dean bolted up in bed, giving his brother--his gigantic, definitely-not-eight-year-old brother--a wide-eyed stare.
“Well don’t freak out, man. We’ve still got an hour before she‘s gonna want to open up, I just thought--”
“No. This isn’t…”
Sam took a step closer to Dean. “What? Jesus, Dean. You look like you just saw a ghost. You okay, man?”
“What did you do?” Dean whispered.
Okay, confusion. “Do?”
“How did I get back here?”
More confusion. “What are you talking about? We drove. Last night. After the poltergeist. Remember?” Sam paused for a moment and reached over to feel Dean’s head for bumps. “I didn’t think you hit your head.”
On instinct, Dean batted Sam’s hands away again. “Didn’t.”
“Then what is it? You’re freaking me out a little, man.”
Dean threw a glance at his brother and pushed the covers back, standing quickly and reaching for his jeans. A dream. A fucking dream. But it had been so…
So not a dream. The night of the poltergeist, he’d gone to bed in boxers and a green t-shirt, and that had been what he was wearing when he woke up with his dad pointing a shotgun at him. The t-shirt he was currently wearing was gray. John’s gray t-shirt, which was what he’d fallen asleep in the night after he’d spoken to Roy Le Grange.
***
“So you’re telling me you went back in time.” Sam was sitting on the twin bed opposite Dean’s own bed, his face a mask of disbelief. “You saw Dad, and me, and…Roy?”
“Yeah. But…nothing’s changed? Sue Ann still bound the reaper, Roy still healed me, Marshall Hall is dead and Dad still made the deal with the demon?”
“Right,” Sam answered quietly. Touchy subjects, all.
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired. “And the other me wasn’t here? You’re sure?”
“Dean, I’m pretty sure I’d notice if you’d all of a sudden turned into a twelve-year-old.”
“Not if you were both asleep the whole time,” Dean countered.
“You were there for two days. We just got here last night. No way I slept for two days.” He saw his brother’s jaw clench in frustration and sighed, sympathy softening his voice when he reluctantly spoke again. “Look, there is something--I don’t remember much about being that age, but there was one night…I woke up at Pastor Jim’s the next day, and he told me I‘d dreamed it, but--”
“You remember meeting me back then?”
“I--maybe. I don’t know, okay? It was a long time ago. And this is all just--”
“You still don‘t want to believe it. I know how you feel, but man--I’m telling you, it happened.”
“I’m not saying it’s not possible. And I know it felt real, but Dean--”
Dean stood abruptly and started shoving his things into his duffle. “You packed?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, knowing his brother too well to be surprised at the sudden change of subject.
He nervously watched as Dean moved around the room. Every time he’d thought Dean was finally starting to heal from the damage their father‘s death had inflicted, his brother would say or do something to cause Sam‘s fear and worry to return in full force. “I still want to talk about this later, though.”
“Yeah, we will. Later.”
Well, that was easier than he‘d expected. “Dean--”
“Shut it, Sam.” He’d talk to Sam after he was proven right.
“I was just gonna ask if you had any kind of destination in mind.”
Dean zipped the duffle and threw it over his shoulder. “We’re going to see Roy.”
***
“Huh.”
The tent was standing, but dilapidated from lack of upkeep over two harsh Nebraska winters. “What a difference a day makes,” Dean mumbled.
“Was it here? In your--” Sam stopped himself.
“My dream?” Dean snapped. “No, it wasn’t here.” Wasn’t a damn dream, either he wanted to add, and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it.
They walked toward the house in silence, but Roy had heard the brief exchange after rumble of the Impala had died down, and opened the door as soon as he heard their footsteps on the porch stairs.
“That you, Dean?”
“That’s right.”
The old preacher nodded, smiling sadly, his eyes staring sightlessly into the distance. “Thought that was your voice. Come on in, fellas.”
***
“I’ve been waiting for you, Dean,” Roy said as he led the brothers into the living room to talk. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
“You’ve been waiting for me,” Dean repeated. “For how long?”
Roy smiled. “Since the day you left, son. I guess it’s happened, then.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably on the couch, looked over at Dean, who was nodding to himself.
“Yeah. Got back this morning.”
Sam sat back, his mouth hanging open. He’d known it was possible, but having Roy’s confirmation made something snap inside him. It had really happened. Dean had gone back, and seen their dad. Had seen Roy. Had…oh god. He started to say something, but clamped his mouth shut immediately when Roy started to speak again.
“I’m sorry, Dean.”
“You let her do it,” Dean accused, ignoring the apology. “Knowing what would happen, you still let her do it. Just couldn’t resist saving your own ass?”
“Dean!”
“Shut up, Sam. Roy?”
The old man could hear the spitfire anger in Dean‘s voice, the young man‘s tone practically daring him to defend his inaction; but he couldn‘t rise to it. He could only tell the truth. “You think I was selfish. You think I was saving myself. You’re wrong, son. Look around you. What do I have to live for, Dean? My wife is gone, we never had any children. It‘s just me here.”
“Then why? Why would you allow--”
“Listen to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t grant you the mercy of allowing you to rest. But I had my reasons, if you‘ll hear me out.”
Dean grit his teeth, silent, and after a moment Roy continued.
“I thought about stopping her. When I realized everything you said was real, when I got sick. I nearly said something a hundred times. But something kept holding me back. I remembered you, this young man who would go to such great lengths to make sure the right thing would be done, even though it would surely cost you your own life. And whatever judgment the Lord has in store for me because of the choice I made…well, I’ll deal with it. After all, what kind of judgment would He have given me if I had allowed one of His warriors to perish?”
Dean barked out a laugh, no humor in it whatsoever. “One of His warriors? I don’t even believe…”
“So you say,” Roy interrupted, smiling. “So you say.”
Later, as they prepared to leave Roy to his solitude, Sam bent over to whisper a quiet “Thank you” in the old man’s ear.
***
Two hours into the five hour drive to Bobby’s, and much of it had been spent in silence. Sam’s panties were in a twist about something, that much was obvious, and Dean had been happily ignoring the tension for too long.
“This shit really bothers me, man.”
“Course it does,” Sam said, shortness in his voice.
“We need to find out how it happened. Got any theories?”
“Nope. Maybe Bobby will.”
“Oh come on, something’s gotta be cooking in that big geek brain of yours. What do you think?”
“I said I don’t know, Dean,” he snapped.
Dean had finally had enough. “Jesus, Sammy. What crawled up your ass?”
Sam turned his head to look at his brother, but when he caught Dean’s eye he immediately turned his attention back to the passing scenery out the passenger window.
“What? Seriously, man. What‘s your damage?”
Sam took a deep breath. He was going to wait until after they‘d seen Bobby, but if Dean wanted to do this now, that was fine with him. “It really wasn’t a dream.”
“Told you it wasn’t. Roy just confirmed it, is all. You’re just now putting all that together? You’re supposed to be the smart one, Sammy,” he grinned.
“Stop it, Dean. Stop acting like everything’s okay.” And if Dean called him Sammy one more time today, he was going to make good on his rain check and knock the hell out of him, driving or not.
“Then freaking tell me, man. You‘ve been pissing all over me since we left Roy‘s.”
Sam tilted his head up in an exaggerated eye roll before glaring at his brother. “You really did that. Not dreamed it, actually did it. Told Roy and Dad what was going to happen.”
“Yeah. We’ve covered that.”
“You tried to get them to change what was going to happen.”
“Yes. Okay?”
“No, not okay. You really don’t understand why I’m upset?” Sam shook his head in wonder. How his brother could be so completely selfless and yet so fucking insensitive was beyond him.
But Dean did get it. Of course he got it. “Look, Sam. I was just--”
“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.”
“Sam--”
“You were trying to kill yourself, Dean!”
Sam’s words hung heavy between them, permeating the air in the Impala until Dean had the unstoppable urge to roll down the window. After a few minutes and a little wind in his face, Dean took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “It’s not like I’m gonna slit my wrists or anything, Sam. I was just trying to…set things right.”
“Set things right,” Sam repeated, then added sarcastically, “Well, that’s okay then.”
“If it had worked, you wouldn’t have even known the difference,” Dean mumbled in return.
The statement, and the matter-of-fact tone that came with it, surprised and hurt Sam more deeply than he would have expected. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
“So I‘ve heard.”
***
They had been driving in silence for awhile when Sam’s head jerked up from the window, where he’d been resting it. “He lied to me.”
“What? Who?” Whoever “he” was, Dean was grateful that someone else would be the focus of Sam’s ire, even if only for a few minutes.
“Pastor Jim. I remember, I think--we were staying in a crap motel, and I woke up and you weren’t twelve anymore. You were big. Sleeping right next to me. I freaked out and woke Dad up. But I figured out it was you, right? And you and Dad took me to Pastor Jim’s. He lied to me. The next day when I woke up, he told me it was just a dream.”
“And you believed him.”
“I was eight. And it was Pastor Jim, and it all happened in the middle of the night. I remember arguing about it, a little--but yeah, I guess he convinced me. Dad too. Why would they do that? Pastor Jim never lied to us.”
“I don’t know, Sam.” He honestly didn’t. “Dad must have had his reasons for not wanting you to know it was real.” With a little bitterness, he added, “He probably told Jim what to tell you.”
“Yeah. Must not have been on Dad’s list of ‘need-to-know’ stuff. What about you? Do you remember anything from when you were twelve?”
Dean shook his head no. “That was right around the age Dad started taking me on hunts. There were a few times I woke up and he told me Jim had come to get you in the middle of the night--if he‘d found something and wanted to take off as soon as possible. That’s probably what he told me, once he realized I didn’t know anything about what happened. I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. Man, I still can’t believe I slept through the whole thing. Getting displaced in time? Lotta stuff isn’t right about this.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. After a moment, he allowed himself to smile. “Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I tall?”
It took a few seconds, but Dean remembered, and returned Sam’s grin. “Bigger than me and Dad both.”
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh god.” Whatever was on Sam’s mind now was surely about to start spilling forth and erupt into one of those magical brotherly moments made of so much cheese.
“I’m serious.”
“Of course you are.”
Sam scowled at his brother. Why must Dean be so…Dean all the time? Didn‘t he ever get tired of it? With a put-upon sigh, he forged ahead, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Even knowing what was going to happen, Roy still decided to save your life. And Dad--he still made the deal with the Demon.”
“Yeah,” Dean said cautiously.
“Just makes me think.”
Dean snorted. “Everything makes you think.” He let a minute or two go by, knowing Sam wasn’t finished but was waiting for a signal to continue. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”
“I don’t know, I just--I know you have this…I know you think you’re supposed to be dead. But what if you’re not? You know? I mean--all this stuff that keeps happening. But you’re still here.”
Dean shrugged. “Our whole lives are made up of close calls, Sam. Dad had a few of ‘em too.”
“Yeah, but--”
“You saying my close calls were closer than his close calls? Or yours?”
“No, not the--I‘m not talking about almost going down in a plane crash because the co-pilot was possessed by a demon. Or almost blowing your own head off because a mind-controller told you to do it. The electrocution, the heart attack, what the Demon did to you--you don’t think there could be a reason why you survived?”
Dean shrugged again. “I don’t have to think anything. Two people died in my place. One of them willing and one of them not. Was out of my control.”
“Exactly. Even when you tried to change it. Roy and Dad still chose you.”
Dean’s jaw involuntarily clenched. “I told you once, I don‘t believe in destiny, Sam. Mine or yours.”
“And that’s it? You won’t even consider the possibility there could be more to it? I mean--who knows? Maybe you’re the only one who can kill this Demon.”
Dean gave a derisive snort. “Right. ‘Cause last time we were face to face with it, I did such a bang-up job. Had it right where I wanted it, right up to the point where I passed out from the blood loss.”
Sam sighed in frustration. “Okay, whatever. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the Demon. Maybe there’s…I don’t know, somebody out there you haven‘t saved yet. Somebody important. Some kid who‘s gonna grow up and…cure cancer, or find a way for there to be world peace or something.”
Dean laughed out loud at that. “World peace? You’re cracked, Sammy.”
Okay, too much. But Sam grinned too, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah, alright. But still. Everything that’s happened--you’re still here. Don’t you think there could be a reason? Even a small one?”
Sam looked at Dean hopefully, and when Dean glanced back at him, he couldn’t help but quirk the corner of his mouth up in a small smile at his brother’s sincerity.
They still didn’t know what had caused the rift in time. There would be some serious investigation into that, but it would have to come later, after they’d talked to Bobby.
Sue Ann hadn’t been stopped from murdering all those people. Marshall Hall was still dead because of him.
And John--still damned to hell. Dean thought of his dad. After what had happened…that meant everything John had done in his last days, going up against the Demon, was done with the knowledge of what was to come.
Shit. Motherfucking shit. Had John even tried to find another way to save him? Or had he just assumed it was the right time, and summoned the Demon because of what Dean had told him in 1991? Because he’d known it was possible?
Dean swallowed hard.
But here was Sam, looking at him for all the world as if Dean had some great, important purpose in life. As if he hadn’t been the one who might have killed their father by trying to save him. As if he were a good man who deserved all these second chances.
And all he wanted was for Dean to believe it, too.
Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and as he stared out at the open road he finally answered. “Yeah. Maybe.”
***
“So you’re sure it was a spell?” Dean glanced over at Sam. At least that was something to go on.
Bobby nodded. “And whoever did it, they were messing with some real dark mojo. Spell like that, takes a lot of power. More than any human would have, unless they had some kind of vessel to channel the energy through.”
“Vessel?”
“Some other being, probably a demon, who can take the spell caster’s power and make it stronger. It‘d have to feed off the human, though--drain the life force right out of ‘em.”
“Kill ‘em?” Dean asked.
“Probably. That‘s why people don‘t go boppin‘ around through time every day. Too much risk.”
Sam massaged his temples. What a long-ass day. “So…not a human, unless they were willing to die just to send Dean back in time for a couple days.”
“And had found a demon willing to work with a human,” Dean added.
“And a demon that strong could just do it on its own. Likely wouldn‘t bother having a human cast the spell.” Bobby rose from the sofa, lifted his hat for a moment to run a hand through his hair. “Besides, you know of any humans you’ve pissed off enough to want to kill you, Dean?”
Puzzled, Dean glanced up from the old volume of Bobby’s he’d been flipping through. “Kill me? No. You think that’s what it was trying to do?”
“Almost worked, didn’t it? Tried your damnedest not to come back alive.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, looked up at Bobby, part guilt, part defiance. He did not want to have this conversation with Bobby too.
Bobby just shrugged. “Ain’t here to judge you, Dean.”
Sam cleared his throat. He was still angry and worried for his brother, but they needed to figure this thing out. If someone or something was after Dean, they needed to know what they were dealing with. “But why go through the trouble of sending him back in time? If all it wanted was Dean dead--”
“A gun would be a hell of a lot easier,” Dean finished.
“Unless it wanted you to change things,” Sam said slowly.
“Could be some demon out there ain’t happy with the deal your daddy made with the yellow-eyed demon, wanted you to get him to not make the trade.”
“So…maybe there’s a demon out there who’s got a beef with old Yellow Eyes? And it has nothing to do with me at all,” Dean said.
Bobby shrugged. “Or maybe it has everything to do with you. Hell, maybe Yellow Eyes himself sent you back. I just don’t know, boys. I think we’re on track, here--probably was a demon sent you back and, like Sam said, wanted you to change something. Gave you enough time to talk to your daddy and that Le Grange character, didn’t it? Wanted you dead, wanted your dad alive, wanted to piss off Yellow Eyes--whatever it wanted, doesn’t seem like it got it. But there’s just no way to know for sure.”
Dean barked out a humorless laugh as something occurred to him. “We could consult the newsletter.“ Off Bobby and Sam’s confused looks he clarified, “I know someone we could ask.”
“What--who? Where?”
“Greenwood, Mississippi.”
Sam‘s eyes grew larger as he realized what Dean was talking about. “The crossroads demon. No--no way, Dean.”
“She might know something,” Dean insisted. “Hell, she might have done it herself. She knew all about the deal Dad made.”
“Dean, last time you met that thing, it almost talked you into--no.”
“You got another idea?” After a few moments of Sam wracking his brain for another idea--any idea--Dean gave a quick nod. “Didn’t think so. We‘re going.”
Sam gave Bobby an exasperated look before turning his focus back to his brother. “Fine. But you’re not summoning that thing alone this time. I’m gonna be right there with you.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sammy,” Dean said. His eyes twinkled as he threw a cocky grin Sam’s way, and just for a moment, Sam got a flash of the old Dean.
Hope had not completely abandoned his brother, and that one little glimpse was enough to settle Sam’s nerves until they got to Mississippi.
***
It wore a different body this time, but it was just as female, and just as hot. Blond this time, and if Dean squinted, she kind of resembled Rebecca Romijn.
Dean wondered briefly if it always chose someone it knew would be attractive to its victim so it could get away with its little kissing ploy when the deal was closed.
“Well well well. You’re back. And this time you brought Baby Brother along.” The demon studied Sam for a moment, its borrowed eyes trailing up and down his body. “Nice gene pool.”
A bit flustered by the demon’s scrutiny, Sam looked at Dean curiously.
Sighing, Dean said, “Sam, meet Miss Crossroads, the horniest demon on the planet. She subscribes to the newsletter.”
The demon threw her head back, laughing. “So what brings you here, Dean? Change your mind? Going to try and make another bid at being the sacrificial lamb?”
Ignoring her questions, Dean took a step forward, which prompted Sam to place a hand on his brother’s arm in a knee jerk reaction of protection. Dean nearly shook him off, but thought better of it. It was no small relief that his brother was here to have his back this time.
“Funny thing happened to me a couple days ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
The demon gave Dean a knowing smile, batting her eyelashes at him. “Why Dean. You think just because we have a history, you can use me for information now? Where‘s your devil‘s trap? Your little book of prayers?”
“Didn’t bring ‘em,” Dean said gruffly. “Thought we could do this the old fashioned way. I ask, you answer.”
“Interesting strategy. How do you know I won’t just kill you where you stand?”
“Because you’re not the one who wants me dead. Not without taking my soul with you. Isn’t that right?” God, he hoped he was right.
“A hunter’s soul is quite a prize,” she agreed. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rip you apart just on principle. Or,” she brightened and turned to Sam, “I could have a go at little Sammy here. Save you the trouble of having him turn on you later.”
“You won’t touch him,” Dean said, warning in his voice.
“And neither will you. All that brotherly love’s going to kill you one day, Dean.”
Enough. Dean was doing his stone face, the one even Sam had trouble reading. But the demon knew Dean‘s weaknesses and was starting to get to him--Sam could tell that much. “You’re stalling. You know something.”
“Think so, Sam?”
Dean took another step forward. “Who did it? Was it the yellow-eyed demon?”
The demon rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know his name. How could you possibly know what he’s capable of?”
“So it was him,” Sam said.
“I didn’t say that.”
Dean crossed his arms and stared into bright red eyes. “You know who it was, though.”
“And what’s the information worth to you? Not your soul, we already know that.”
“You’re right. Not giving up my soul.”
“Then what do you got? Souls are my bread and butter, honey.”
“You owe me.”
The demon cocked her head to the side, her lips in a tight smile. “How do you figure?”
“Could’ve killed you last time. Didn’t.”
“You didn’t exorcise me because of Evan, not because you were keeping your word.” She sighed and ran a finger suggestively across Dean’s chest. “But I do have a soft spot for you, Dean. I’ll tell you this much--you’re not in danger anymore. Relatively speaking, anyway.”
“You‘re sure about that?”
She shrugged and pulled away. “It was just a game. You won. Don’t worry about it.”
“A game,” Sam repeated.
“What do you mean, I won?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” she replied, before she turned to Sam. “Your brother’s a pretty little chess piece, Sam. A shiny trinket, and demons like to play sometimes.”
Sam stepped forward, more angry than Dean was at her words. “Why him?”
“He knows why. Don‘t you, Dean?”
Dean gave Sam a look that clearly read No I don’t, and started to ask what she meant.
He was interrupted by the demon’s screams, as black smoke and fear poured out of the body it was possessing and when it was over, a crying, clueless woman knelt on the road before them.
***
The victim safely at home, Dean cranked the Impala and pulled out of her driveway.
“So, I‘m a shiny trinket.”
“You’re not a trinket.”
“Aw, thanks Sammy,” Dean said and gave his best fake smile.
Sam saw right through it. “What are you thinking?”
“Same thing happened last time. She didn’t leave that body on her own. She started getting a little too share-happy and something yanked her out.“
Sam tilted his head, considering that. “Could be she‘s a lower level demon and some higher up‘s got some kind of power over her.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“You uh, figure out what she meant about why whatever it was wanted to mess with you?” Sam asked cautiously.
“Maybe.”
Sam didn’t say anything, just waited for Dean to talk.
It took several minutes, but Dean finally spoke again, softly. “Last time, she said--’Your misery is the whole point’. I think that’s what she was talking about.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, well. They’re demons. It’s what they do. They like to watch people suffer.”
“Especially you. Jesus, Dean.” Sam didn’t know what else to say. A game, a fucking game, some demons sitting around a card table in hell and one of them decided to have a little fun with his brother, try and get him to erase the last months of his own existence.
“Yeah,” Dean offered a weak smile. “That’s me, the Charlie Brown of demon hunters.”
“I just--I can’t believe there was no point to it. She had to have been covering up something--there has to be a reason--”
Dean shook his head. “Not gonna give up on that, are you? Always gotta have a reason for everything.”
“Just thinking out loud.”
“Yeah, well. You can keep thinking, just to yourself this time, yeah?”
Sam watched out the window for a few minutes, doing just that, before speaking again. “She said you won, because you lived.”
“Uh huh.”
“Can you do something for me?”
“What, Sam?”
“The demon that did this--it sounds like it was betting on Dad or Roy letting you die. It underestimated them. Whatever you think, Dean, they both wanted you to be here. Can you just accept that much?”
“I accepted that a long time ago, Sammy. About Dad, anyway. Doesn’t mean he was right.”
“No. It just meant he loved you, and he thought you were worth it.”
“Worth an eternity in hell? Do you even grasp the hugeness of that concept, Sam?”
“Do you?” Sam shot back. “Dad did. He had years to think about it, Dean. Years. And he still did it.”
Dean shook his head. “No one is worth giving up your soul for. No one.”
“Would you do it for me?”
Dean frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“Wasn’t the point anyway. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. But can you just accept that he thought you were worth it?”
Dean refused to answer, stared straight out at the road ahead of them, and allowed Sam to get the last word.
“To Dad, you were worth it.”
END
.
Pairing: None
Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Roy Le Grange
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 2--should fit in anywhere between Crossroad Blues and Nightshifter, until I get Kripke'd.
Warnings: Bit of cussing, daddy angst
Huge thanks to fanficwriter1966 and missyjack.
Part One here.
Part two
It was easier than he’d expected. Le Grange lived in the same old farmhouse in Bumfuck, Nebraska in 1991 as he would in 2006. The land on which the large white church tent would one day be erected was a field of overgrown grass and weeds, but the house looked much the same as Dean remembered.
The hard part had been getting away from John for the day, and after leaving under a cloud of suspicion he continually threw glances in the rearview mirror of the VW he’d stolen to check if he was being followed.
Dean sat parked in the driveway, considering his options. He’d driven there with no plan. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually talk to Roy, or Sue Ann…no. Not Sue Ann. Bitch was crazy. If the little book of black magic was already in her possession, would it make a difference if he simply stole it? Or would she still find a way to bind the reaper when it came after Roy? He gripped the steering wheel, thinking about how many people’s lives would be affected if Sue Ann‘s “work“ never began.
What Sue Ann was going to do was wrong--but was he any better? Was he playing God by trying to change the future? And what would happen to him, if this worked? Would he just fade into nothing? A year. It had been a year since the electrocution. Hopefully Sam would have had the sense to salt and burn him.
Jesus. Sam. The thought of his brother nearly caused him to start the engine and go back to John.
He bit his lip and steeled himself, willed his mind to focus on the task at hand. He had a chance to fix this. He’d be saving Marshall Hall and the others Sue Ann had deemed unworthy of life, and he was going to stop his father from condemning himself to hell. He had taken the first step by coming here. Now he just had to figure out what step two was going to be.
There was only one easy, sure way to go about it--put a bullet in Sue Ann‘s brain. But the one easy, sure way was the one thing he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t Gordon fucking Walker, for Christ’s sake.
Sighing, he stepped out of the beaten up old Beetle, squinting in the mid-afternoon sun, and decided to knock on the door and see what would happen next.
***
The truth won in the end. A brown-haired Roy had answered the door, and no, his wife wasn’t home, but was there something he could do for you, son?
Roy was a good man. A good man who had married a woman who would one day turn into a monster. And since he was a good man, he didn’t want to believe his wife was capable of such crimes.
Dean left the farm, the hour he’d spent with Roy a total blur. He had searched the study for Sue Ann’s book, pulling out large volumes and replacing them when he found nothing. He’d talked, hadn’t backed off, hadn’t faltered until he could almost physically feel the stinging effect each of his words was having on the preacher. And by the end, Roy had almost looked convinced.
As he drove back to the motel room he and his father were sharing, he hoped when Roy started to get sick, maybe he’d remember and believe him.
And that was all he could do.
***
John surprised him. Didn’t ask where he’d been all day, didn’t even bring it up. He did, however, show him a few theories he’d found about time travel, all of which added up to fucking nothing. There was an unspoken agreement that there would be no alcohol tonight, no alcohol for the remainder of Dean’s stay. Too much information had been shared already, and tension hung in the air between them after the heavy emotion of the night before.
So they did what Winchesters do and ignored it until they finally decided to lie down and get some sleep.
***
“Dean, wake up. Dude, come on. It’s almost eleven.”
He groaned into the pillow, shoving Sam’s too-close-to-groping-for-his-comfort arms away. “Go ‘way.”
Sighing, Sam folded his arms across his chest. His brother didn‘t want to be touched? Fine. But his ass was gonna get out of that bed. “Seriously, man. Ellen’s making lunch, then we should get back on the road. Find a hunt, before any other hunters find us.”
Right. They’d both been more than a little wary of any other hunters since the debacle with Gordon. They’d crashed at the roadhouse out of pure and simple exhaustion after…wait.
Dean bolted up in bed, giving his brother--his gigantic, definitely-not-eight-year-old brother--a wide-eyed stare.
“Well don’t freak out, man. We’ve still got an hour before she‘s gonna want to open up, I just thought--”
“No. This isn’t…”
Sam took a step closer to Dean. “What? Jesus, Dean. You look like you just saw a ghost. You okay, man?”
“What did you do?” Dean whispered.
Okay, confusion. “Do?”
“How did I get back here?”
More confusion. “What are you talking about? We drove. Last night. After the poltergeist. Remember?” Sam paused for a moment and reached over to feel Dean’s head for bumps. “I didn’t think you hit your head.”
On instinct, Dean batted Sam’s hands away again. “Didn’t.”
“Then what is it? You’re freaking me out a little, man.”
Dean threw a glance at his brother and pushed the covers back, standing quickly and reaching for his jeans. A dream. A fucking dream. But it had been so…
So not a dream. The night of the poltergeist, he’d gone to bed in boxers and a green t-shirt, and that had been what he was wearing when he woke up with his dad pointing a shotgun at him. The t-shirt he was currently wearing was gray. John’s gray t-shirt, which was what he’d fallen asleep in the night after he’d spoken to Roy Le Grange.
***
“So you’re telling me you went back in time.” Sam was sitting on the twin bed opposite Dean’s own bed, his face a mask of disbelief. “You saw Dad, and me, and…Roy?”
“Yeah. But…nothing’s changed? Sue Ann still bound the reaper, Roy still healed me, Marshall Hall is dead and Dad still made the deal with the demon?”
“Right,” Sam answered quietly. Touchy subjects, all.
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired. “And the other me wasn’t here? You’re sure?”
“Dean, I’m pretty sure I’d notice if you’d all of a sudden turned into a twelve-year-old.”
“Not if you were both asleep the whole time,” Dean countered.
“You were there for two days. We just got here last night. No way I slept for two days.” He saw his brother’s jaw clench in frustration and sighed, sympathy softening his voice when he reluctantly spoke again. “Look, there is something--I don’t remember much about being that age, but there was one night…I woke up at Pastor Jim’s the next day, and he told me I‘d dreamed it, but--”
“You remember meeting me back then?”
“I--maybe. I don’t know, okay? It was a long time ago. And this is all just--”
“You still don‘t want to believe it. I know how you feel, but man--I’m telling you, it happened.”
“I’m not saying it’s not possible. And I know it felt real, but Dean--”
Dean stood abruptly and started shoving his things into his duffle. “You packed?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, knowing his brother too well to be surprised at the sudden change of subject.
He nervously watched as Dean moved around the room. Every time he’d thought Dean was finally starting to heal from the damage their father‘s death had inflicted, his brother would say or do something to cause Sam‘s fear and worry to return in full force. “I still want to talk about this later, though.”
“Yeah, we will. Later.”
Well, that was easier than he‘d expected. “Dean--”
“Shut it, Sam.” He’d talk to Sam after he was proven right.
“I was just gonna ask if you had any kind of destination in mind.”
Dean zipped the duffle and threw it over his shoulder. “We’re going to see Roy.”
***
“Huh.”
The tent was standing, but dilapidated from lack of upkeep over two harsh Nebraska winters. “What a difference a day makes,” Dean mumbled.
“Was it here? In your--” Sam stopped himself.
“My dream?” Dean snapped. “No, it wasn’t here.” Wasn’t a damn dream, either he wanted to add, and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying it.
They walked toward the house in silence, but Roy had heard the brief exchange after rumble of the Impala had died down, and opened the door as soon as he heard their footsteps on the porch stairs.
“That you, Dean?”
“That’s right.”
The old preacher nodded, smiling sadly, his eyes staring sightlessly into the distance. “Thought that was your voice. Come on in, fellas.”
***
“I’ve been waiting for you, Dean,” Roy said as he led the brothers into the living room to talk. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
“You’ve been waiting for me,” Dean repeated. “For how long?”
Roy smiled. “Since the day you left, son. I guess it’s happened, then.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably on the couch, looked over at Dean, who was nodding to himself.
“Yeah. Got back this morning.”
Sam sat back, his mouth hanging open. He’d known it was possible, but having Roy’s confirmation made something snap inside him. It had really happened. Dean had gone back, and seen their dad. Had seen Roy. Had…oh god. He started to say something, but clamped his mouth shut immediately when Roy started to speak again.
“I’m sorry, Dean.”
“You let her do it,” Dean accused, ignoring the apology. “Knowing what would happen, you still let her do it. Just couldn’t resist saving your own ass?”
“Dean!”
“Shut up, Sam. Roy?”
The old man could hear the spitfire anger in Dean‘s voice, the young man‘s tone practically daring him to defend his inaction; but he couldn‘t rise to it. He could only tell the truth. “You think I was selfish. You think I was saving myself. You’re wrong, son. Look around you. What do I have to live for, Dean? My wife is gone, we never had any children. It‘s just me here.”
“Then why? Why would you allow--”
“Listen to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t grant you the mercy of allowing you to rest. But I had my reasons, if you‘ll hear me out.”
Dean grit his teeth, silent, and after a moment Roy continued.
“I thought about stopping her. When I realized everything you said was real, when I got sick. I nearly said something a hundred times. But something kept holding me back. I remembered you, this young man who would go to such great lengths to make sure the right thing would be done, even though it would surely cost you your own life. And whatever judgment the Lord has in store for me because of the choice I made…well, I’ll deal with it. After all, what kind of judgment would He have given me if I had allowed one of His warriors to perish?”
Dean barked out a laugh, no humor in it whatsoever. “One of His warriors? I don’t even believe…”
“So you say,” Roy interrupted, smiling. “So you say.”
Later, as they prepared to leave Roy to his solitude, Sam bent over to whisper a quiet “Thank you” in the old man’s ear.
***
Two hours into the five hour drive to Bobby’s, and much of it had been spent in silence. Sam’s panties were in a twist about something, that much was obvious, and Dean had been happily ignoring the tension for too long.
“This shit really bothers me, man.”
“Course it does,” Sam said, shortness in his voice.
“We need to find out how it happened. Got any theories?”
“Nope. Maybe Bobby will.”
“Oh come on, something’s gotta be cooking in that big geek brain of yours. What do you think?”
“I said I don’t know, Dean,” he snapped.
Dean had finally had enough. “Jesus, Sammy. What crawled up your ass?”
Sam turned his head to look at his brother, but when he caught Dean’s eye he immediately turned his attention back to the passing scenery out the passenger window.
“What? Seriously, man. What‘s your damage?”
Sam took a deep breath. He was going to wait until after they‘d seen Bobby, but if Dean wanted to do this now, that was fine with him. “It really wasn’t a dream.”
“Told you it wasn’t. Roy just confirmed it, is all. You’re just now putting all that together? You’re supposed to be the smart one, Sammy,” he grinned.
“Stop it, Dean. Stop acting like everything’s okay.” And if Dean called him Sammy one more time today, he was going to make good on his rain check and knock the hell out of him, driving or not.
“Then freaking tell me, man. You‘ve been pissing all over me since we left Roy‘s.”
Sam tilted his head up in an exaggerated eye roll before glaring at his brother. “You really did that. Not dreamed it, actually did it. Told Roy and Dad what was going to happen.”
“Yeah. We’ve covered that.”
“You tried to get them to change what was going to happen.”
“Yes. Okay?”
“No, not okay. You really don’t understand why I’m upset?” Sam shook his head in wonder. How his brother could be so completely selfless and yet so fucking insensitive was beyond him.
But Dean did get it. Of course he got it. “Look, Sam. I was just--”
“I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.”
“Sam--”
“You were trying to kill yourself, Dean!”
Sam’s words hung heavy between them, permeating the air in the Impala until Dean had the unstoppable urge to roll down the window. After a few minutes and a little wind in his face, Dean took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “It’s not like I’m gonna slit my wrists or anything, Sam. I was just trying to…set things right.”
“Set things right,” Sam repeated, then added sarcastically, “Well, that’s okay then.”
“If it had worked, you wouldn’t have even known the difference,” Dean mumbled in return.
The statement, and the matter-of-fact tone that came with it, surprised and hurt Sam more deeply than he would have expected. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
“So I‘ve heard.”
***
They had been driving in silence for awhile when Sam’s head jerked up from the window, where he’d been resting it. “He lied to me.”
“What? Who?” Whoever “he” was, Dean was grateful that someone else would be the focus of Sam’s ire, even if only for a few minutes.
“Pastor Jim. I remember, I think--we were staying in a crap motel, and I woke up and you weren’t twelve anymore. You were big. Sleeping right next to me. I freaked out and woke Dad up. But I figured out it was you, right? And you and Dad took me to Pastor Jim’s. He lied to me. The next day when I woke up, he told me it was just a dream.”
“And you believed him.”
“I was eight. And it was Pastor Jim, and it all happened in the middle of the night. I remember arguing about it, a little--but yeah, I guess he convinced me. Dad too. Why would they do that? Pastor Jim never lied to us.”
“I don’t know, Sam.” He honestly didn’t. “Dad must have had his reasons for not wanting you to know it was real.” With a little bitterness, he added, “He probably told Jim what to tell you.”
“Yeah. Must not have been on Dad’s list of ‘need-to-know’ stuff. What about you? Do you remember anything from when you were twelve?”
Dean shook his head no. “That was right around the age Dad started taking me on hunts. There were a few times I woke up and he told me Jim had come to get you in the middle of the night--if he‘d found something and wanted to take off as soon as possible. That’s probably what he told me, once he realized I didn’t know anything about what happened. I wouldn’t have thought anything about it. Man, I still can’t believe I slept through the whole thing. Getting displaced in time? Lotta stuff isn’t right about this.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. After a moment, he allowed himself to smile. “Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Am I tall?”
It took a few seconds, but Dean remembered, and returned Sam’s grin. “Bigger than me and Dad both.”
“Hey Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh god.” Whatever was on Sam’s mind now was surely about to start spilling forth and erupt into one of those magical brotherly moments made of so much cheese.
“I’m serious.”
“Of course you are.”
Sam scowled at his brother. Why must Dean be so…Dean all the time? Didn‘t he ever get tired of it? With a put-upon sigh, he forged ahead, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Even knowing what was going to happen, Roy still decided to save your life. And Dad--he still made the deal with the Demon.”
“Yeah,” Dean said cautiously.
“Just makes me think.”
Dean snorted. “Everything makes you think.” He let a minute or two go by, knowing Sam wasn’t finished but was waiting for a signal to continue. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”
“I don’t know, I just--I know you have this…I know you think you’re supposed to be dead. But what if you’re not? You know? I mean--all this stuff that keeps happening. But you’re still here.”
Dean shrugged. “Our whole lives are made up of close calls, Sam. Dad had a few of ‘em too.”
“Yeah, but--”
“You saying my close calls were closer than his close calls? Or yours?”
“No, not the--I‘m not talking about almost going down in a plane crash because the co-pilot was possessed by a demon. Or almost blowing your own head off because a mind-controller told you to do it. The electrocution, the heart attack, what the Demon did to you--you don’t think there could be a reason why you survived?”
Dean shrugged again. “I don’t have to think anything. Two people died in my place. One of them willing and one of them not. Was out of my control.”
“Exactly. Even when you tried to change it. Roy and Dad still chose you.”
Dean’s jaw involuntarily clenched. “I told you once, I don‘t believe in destiny, Sam. Mine or yours.”
“And that’s it? You won’t even consider the possibility there could be more to it? I mean--who knows? Maybe you’re the only one who can kill this Demon.”
Dean gave a derisive snort. “Right. ‘Cause last time we were face to face with it, I did such a bang-up job. Had it right where I wanted it, right up to the point where I passed out from the blood loss.”
Sam sighed in frustration. “Okay, whatever. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the Demon. Maybe there’s…I don’t know, somebody out there you haven‘t saved yet. Somebody important. Some kid who‘s gonna grow up and…cure cancer, or find a way for there to be world peace or something.”
Dean laughed out loud at that. “World peace? You’re cracked, Sammy.”
Okay, too much. But Sam grinned too, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yeah, alright. But still. Everything that’s happened--you’re still here. Don’t you think there could be a reason? Even a small one?”
Sam looked at Dean hopefully, and when Dean glanced back at him, he couldn’t help but quirk the corner of his mouth up in a small smile at his brother’s sincerity.
They still didn’t know what had caused the rift in time. There would be some serious investigation into that, but it would have to come later, after they’d talked to Bobby.
Sue Ann hadn’t been stopped from murdering all those people. Marshall Hall was still dead because of him.
And John--still damned to hell. Dean thought of his dad. After what had happened…that meant everything John had done in his last days, going up against the Demon, was done with the knowledge of what was to come.
Shit. Motherfucking shit. Had John even tried to find another way to save him? Or had he just assumed it was the right time, and summoned the Demon because of what Dean had told him in 1991? Because he’d known it was possible?
Dean swallowed hard.
But here was Sam, looking at him for all the world as if Dean had some great, important purpose in life. As if he hadn’t been the one who might have killed their father by trying to save him. As if he were a good man who deserved all these second chances.
And all he wanted was for Dean to believe it, too.
Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and as he stared out at the open road he finally answered. “Yeah. Maybe.”
***
“So you’re sure it was a spell?” Dean glanced over at Sam. At least that was something to go on.
Bobby nodded. “And whoever did it, they were messing with some real dark mojo. Spell like that, takes a lot of power. More than any human would have, unless they had some kind of vessel to channel the energy through.”
“Vessel?”
“Some other being, probably a demon, who can take the spell caster’s power and make it stronger. It‘d have to feed off the human, though--drain the life force right out of ‘em.”
“Kill ‘em?” Dean asked.
“Probably. That‘s why people don‘t go boppin‘ around through time every day. Too much risk.”
Sam massaged his temples. What a long-ass day. “So…not a human, unless they were willing to die just to send Dean back in time for a couple days.”
“And had found a demon willing to work with a human,” Dean added.
“And a demon that strong could just do it on its own. Likely wouldn‘t bother having a human cast the spell.” Bobby rose from the sofa, lifted his hat for a moment to run a hand through his hair. “Besides, you know of any humans you’ve pissed off enough to want to kill you, Dean?”
Puzzled, Dean glanced up from the old volume of Bobby’s he’d been flipping through. “Kill me? No. You think that’s what it was trying to do?”
“Almost worked, didn’t it? Tried your damnedest not to come back alive.”
Dean shifted uncomfortably, looked up at Bobby, part guilt, part defiance. He did not want to have this conversation with Bobby too.
Bobby just shrugged. “Ain’t here to judge you, Dean.”
Sam cleared his throat. He was still angry and worried for his brother, but they needed to figure this thing out. If someone or something was after Dean, they needed to know what they were dealing with. “But why go through the trouble of sending him back in time? If all it wanted was Dean dead--”
“A gun would be a hell of a lot easier,” Dean finished.
“Unless it wanted you to change things,” Sam said slowly.
“Could be some demon out there ain’t happy with the deal your daddy made with the yellow-eyed demon, wanted you to get him to not make the trade.”
“So…maybe there’s a demon out there who’s got a beef with old Yellow Eyes? And it has nothing to do with me at all,” Dean said.
Bobby shrugged. “Or maybe it has everything to do with you. Hell, maybe Yellow Eyes himself sent you back. I just don’t know, boys. I think we’re on track, here--probably was a demon sent you back and, like Sam said, wanted you to change something. Gave you enough time to talk to your daddy and that Le Grange character, didn’t it? Wanted you dead, wanted your dad alive, wanted to piss off Yellow Eyes--whatever it wanted, doesn’t seem like it got it. But there’s just no way to know for sure.”
Dean barked out a humorless laugh as something occurred to him. “We could consult the newsletter.“ Off Bobby and Sam’s confused looks he clarified, “I know someone we could ask.”
“What--who? Where?”
“Greenwood, Mississippi.”
Sam‘s eyes grew larger as he realized what Dean was talking about. “The crossroads demon. No--no way, Dean.”
“She might know something,” Dean insisted. “Hell, she might have done it herself. She knew all about the deal Dad made.”
“Dean, last time you met that thing, it almost talked you into--no.”
“You got another idea?” After a few moments of Sam wracking his brain for another idea--any idea--Dean gave a quick nod. “Didn’t think so. We‘re going.”
Sam gave Bobby an exasperated look before turning his focus back to his brother. “Fine. But you’re not summoning that thing alone this time. I’m gonna be right there with you.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sammy,” Dean said. His eyes twinkled as he threw a cocky grin Sam’s way, and just for a moment, Sam got a flash of the old Dean.
Hope had not completely abandoned his brother, and that one little glimpse was enough to settle Sam’s nerves until they got to Mississippi.
***
It wore a different body this time, but it was just as female, and just as hot. Blond this time, and if Dean squinted, she kind of resembled Rebecca Romijn.
Dean wondered briefly if it always chose someone it knew would be attractive to its victim so it could get away with its little kissing ploy when the deal was closed.
“Well well well. You’re back. And this time you brought Baby Brother along.” The demon studied Sam for a moment, its borrowed eyes trailing up and down his body. “Nice gene pool.”
A bit flustered by the demon’s scrutiny, Sam looked at Dean curiously.
Sighing, Dean said, “Sam, meet Miss Crossroads, the horniest demon on the planet. She subscribes to the newsletter.”
The demon threw her head back, laughing. “So what brings you here, Dean? Change your mind? Going to try and make another bid at being the sacrificial lamb?”
Ignoring her questions, Dean took a step forward, which prompted Sam to place a hand on his brother’s arm in a knee jerk reaction of protection. Dean nearly shook him off, but thought better of it. It was no small relief that his brother was here to have his back this time.
“Funny thing happened to me a couple days ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
The demon gave Dean a knowing smile, batting her eyelashes at him. “Why Dean. You think just because we have a history, you can use me for information now? Where‘s your devil‘s trap? Your little book of prayers?”
“Didn’t bring ‘em,” Dean said gruffly. “Thought we could do this the old fashioned way. I ask, you answer.”
“Interesting strategy. How do you know I won’t just kill you where you stand?”
“Because you’re not the one who wants me dead. Not without taking my soul with you. Isn’t that right?” God, he hoped he was right.
“A hunter’s soul is quite a prize,” she agreed. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rip you apart just on principle. Or,” she brightened and turned to Sam, “I could have a go at little Sammy here. Save you the trouble of having him turn on you later.”
“You won’t touch him,” Dean said, warning in his voice.
“And neither will you. All that brotherly love’s going to kill you one day, Dean.”
Enough. Dean was doing his stone face, the one even Sam had trouble reading. But the demon knew Dean‘s weaknesses and was starting to get to him--Sam could tell that much. “You’re stalling. You know something.”
“Think so, Sam?”
Dean took another step forward. “Who did it? Was it the yellow-eyed demon?”
The demon rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know his name. How could you possibly know what he’s capable of?”
“So it was him,” Sam said.
“I didn’t say that.”
Dean crossed his arms and stared into bright red eyes. “You know who it was, though.”
“And what’s the information worth to you? Not your soul, we already know that.”
“You’re right. Not giving up my soul.”
“Then what do you got? Souls are my bread and butter, honey.”
“You owe me.”
The demon cocked her head to the side, her lips in a tight smile. “How do you figure?”
“Could’ve killed you last time. Didn’t.”
“You didn’t exorcise me because of Evan, not because you were keeping your word.” She sighed and ran a finger suggestively across Dean’s chest. “But I do have a soft spot for you, Dean. I’ll tell you this much--you’re not in danger anymore. Relatively speaking, anyway.”
“You‘re sure about that?”
She shrugged and pulled away. “It was just a game. You won. Don’t worry about it.”
“A game,” Sam repeated.
“What do you mean, I won?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” she replied, before she turned to Sam. “Your brother’s a pretty little chess piece, Sam. A shiny trinket, and demons like to play sometimes.”
Sam stepped forward, more angry than Dean was at her words. “Why him?”
“He knows why. Don‘t you, Dean?”
Dean gave Sam a look that clearly read No I don’t, and started to ask what she meant.
He was interrupted by the demon’s screams, as black smoke and fear poured out of the body it was possessing and when it was over, a crying, clueless woman knelt on the road before them.
***
The victim safely at home, Dean cranked the Impala and pulled out of her driveway.
“So, I‘m a shiny trinket.”
“You’re not a trinket.”
“Aw, thanks Sammy,” Dean said and gave his best fake smile.
Sam saw right through it. “What are you thinking?”
“Same thing happened last time. She didn’t leave that body on her own. She started getting a little too share-happy and something yanked her out.“
Sam tilted his head, considering that. “Could be she‘s a lower level demon and some higher up‘s got some kind of power over her.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“You uh, figure out what she meant about why whatever it was wanted to mess with you?” Sam asked cautiously.
“Maybe.”
Sam didn’t say anything, just waited for Dean to talk.
It took several minutes, but Dean finally spoke again, softly. “Last time, she said--’Your misery is the whole point’. I think that’s what she was talking about.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, well. They’re demons. It’s what they do. They like to watch people suffer.”
“Especially you. Jesus, Dean.” Sam didn’t know what else to say. A game, a fucking game, some demons sitting around a card table in hell and one of them decided to have a little fun with his brother, try and get him to erase the last months of his own existence.
“Yeah,” Dean offered a weak smile. “That’s me, the Charlie Brown of demon hunters.”
“I just--I can’t believe there was no point to it. She had to have been covering up something--there has to be a reason--”
Dean shook his head. “Not gonna give up on that, are you? Always gotta have a reason for everything.”
“Just thinking out loud.”
“Yeah, well. You can keep thinking, just to yourself this time, yeah?”
Sam watched out the window for a few minutes, doing just that, before speaking again. “She said you won, because you lived.”
“Uh huh.”
“Can you do something for me?”
“What, Sam?”
“The demon that did this--it sounds like it was betting on Dad or Roy letting you die. It underestimated them. Whatever you think, Dean, they both wanted you to be here. Can you just accept that much?”
“I accepted that a long time ago, Sammy. About Dad, anyway. Doesn’t mean he was right.”
“No. It just meant he loved you, and he thought you were worth it.”
“Worth an eternity in hell? Do you even grasp the hugeness of that concept, Sam?”
“Do you?” Sam shot back. “Dad did. He had years to think about it, Dean. Years. And he still did it.”
Dean shook his head. “No one is worth giving up your soul for. No one.”
“Would you do it for me?”
Dean frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“Wasn’t the point anyway. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. But can you just accept that he thought you were worth it?”
Dean refused to answer, stared straight out at the road ahead of them, and allowed Sam to get the last word.
“To Dad, you were worth it.”
END
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