Meeting in Samarra 4/6
Title: Meeting in Samarra
Author: mulkentertain
Rating: PG
Word count: 15.573 words
Pairings: Gen
Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11, my take on what I thought 6x12 might have been before it aired. So obviously totally AU ever since then.
Disclaimer: Wish-list for Christmas: 2 rough looking guys, travelling around in a muscle car that can be picked up at the Canadian border.
Author's Note: I wrote this back when Episode 6x11 aired and posted it over the following weeks on ff.net If for some reason you prefer to read it there, go ahead. It is exactly the same on both websides (except for another round of spell check for this one right here). But since I have a Lj now I thought I might as well post it here.
Chapter 4: Rediscovered
The very moment Bobby entered the room Sam's ears had started to hum with broken noise. Like an old radio, that couldn't quite tune into a station and left you deaf for the words hidden beneath the mess of static. He tried to shut it out, to concentrate on his surroundings, but the sounds were growing louder by the second. Flashes of colour appeared before his eyes, so fast he couldn't be sure he really had seen them. He was just about to push the thought aside when the older man suddenly turned around. As soon as green connected with hazel something changed. The static vanished, as if the transceiver had somehow snapped into position, making everything else around him fade as the pictures came rushing in.
Poker cards on a table.
Wide eyes filled with fear.
Wood splintering.
Falling. Pain. Blood. A knife.
'Oh god...'
Stumbling back from the couch the young man tried to get away from the horrors playing out in his head. It just didn't make any sense. Was this a vision? A warning to save Bobby's life? There were too many details to focus on, too many sensations crashing down on him, coming from within all at once.
A big hand clutching the knife, the strangely familiar height from which he was watching the scene play out. Dean's face, cold and tight with anger when he grabbed the assailant's arm, detaining him from delivering the final blow. The punch into the face that knocked him out...
Right then something clicked.
This wasn't a vision, it was a memory. His memory of his own actions, of what he had tried to do. The realization flowed through his consciousness like ice, soaking up all other emotions like a sponge.
A loud yelp sounded out from somewhere, making his heart skip a beat and stripping him of his last bit of control. He could physically feel the very moment the levee broke.
Memories came rushing back in like a merciless stream, an unstoppable force that took him by surprise. A strong hand grabbed his arm, but there was no holding on anymore. Defenseless he surrendered to the current, letting it take him all the way back to the field he had woken up in one day, feeling foreign and cold. More and more pictures flooded his senses like a massive blinding light consisting of millions of dancing fireflies that each held their own story written in blood. It were the same images he had seen before, but for some reason they started to make sense, as if someone had labeled them for him so he could make out a pattern.
Waking up alone, disoriented. Going to Indiana to see Dean without really knowing why. Deciding against making his presence known until he knew what was going on. Checking in with Bobby after he realized he had no leads. The strange emptiness inside while the older man barely contained his tears after almost slicing him up with a silver knife and soaking him in holy water. Realizing he hadn't slept in more than a week. Going back on the road because it felt like the right thing to do. Blood. Exhilaration. Screams. Running into his grandfather and the Campbells. More blood and a rising body-count that should worry him, but for some reason didn't. Accepting that sleep was clearly overrated. Joining forces with his brother because it seemed appropriate at the time. Smiling at the sight of Dean getting turned...
"No." He whispered horrified when his mind froze on the blood smears on Dean's face. All of a sudden his vision cleared and he was thrown back into the presence. Small tremors ran through him as he tried to shake off the image, but it was seared into his brain, just like the rest of them. Slowly he looked up towards the pale face of his brother, who was still cutting of the circulation in his lower arm. With an audible gulp Sam realized that only seconds had passed since he zoned out, but in this short time everything had changed. His skin felt too tight, his own body suddenly an alien monster he wanted to waste. Impure and dirty, like some demon had ridden him for over a year, doing with him as it pleased. Reality was a lot harsher though. This wasn't like the possession he had lived through years ago, this was worse. This had been him. No demon or supernatural presence had used him as a meat-suit, it had all been him, simply running on autopilot.
Suddenly the worry and care in his brother's eyes had lost their reassuring effect. Instead it made him feel out of place, like a traitor who shamefully faced the circle of his naive victims. He didn't deserve any empathy or forgiveness, not after what he had done.
In one swift movement he broke free from Dean's grasp and backed away as if he had been burned. His watery eyes shifted between the two hunters, while his body screamed for him to run.
"I...I'm sorry." was all he managed to rasp out before he bolted for the front door.
Dean was frozen into place while his mind tried to sort through all the different emotions that had played out on his brother's face in the blink of an eye. The pain, the confusion, the sudden emptiness he had hoped to never see again, but most of all the pure horror when Sam finally had met his eyes. Dean knew that there was no time to think things through, that he needed to go after his brother, but this last expression had caught him completely off guard. Someone might as well have sucked all the oxygen from the room for his lungs burned with the need for much needed air when realization hit home.
The wall had broken and now...for some reason...Sam was afraid of him.
"Dean."
Whatever great promises Mr. Grim-Reaper himself had muttered, they had all been lies. This so called wall had barely been an old piece of paper, yellowed and brittle to the touch. Sam was right to run from him. Hadn't it been for him and his frenzied crusade to restore his soul, he could have carried on a somewhat normal life. But now...
"Dean!"
With a start the young hunter spun around, finally waking from his torpor and acknowledging Bobby's presence in the room. For only a second the older hunter's face showed his own troubled thoughts before it quickly changed back to it's usual gruff mask of confidence and concern.
"What are you standing there for like a damned marble statue? You gotta go after him, son." he exclaimed urgently when he noticed how shaken the young man really was by the newest events, his burned hand downright forgotten.
Dean's heart was in his mouth, as he tried to pull himself together.
"I..."
"Now, Dean, go!"
The familiar words hit their mark, just like they had many years ago when Sam was barely more than a bundle of blankets in a burning home. Without another glance Dean was running. In a haze he burst through the half opened front door, momentarily blinded by the bright light outside, but his eyes were already searching the area for a sign of his brother.
"Sam!" boomed his rough voice through the discomforting silence pressing down on the scrapyard like a dark cloud. His mind starting racing, trying to figure out which route the young man would have chosen, but these days it had become nearly impossible for Dean to put himself in his brother's shoes. Finally deciding on the main gravel-road ahead he started jogging past the abandoned car wrecks, ducking and stretching to get a good look at all the possible and impossible hiding places along the way. Not far behind he could hear Bobby following his example by searching the workshop and sheds out back.
"Sammy?" Dean shouted for about the hundredth time, but still no indication of his brother. Who would have thought someone as tall as the youngest Winchester could turn into a tiny needle in a haystack?
After what felt like hours Dean came to a halt at the slightly wider crossing point, that overlooked most of the smaller gravel-trails on the property. His hands dug into his skull, while his body trembled with adrenaline.
"Damned it, Sam! Where the hell are you, man?" the hunter pleaded breathlessly after doing a 360 for any kind of sign. Frustration and fear weighted down on him as he made his way back to to house to see if Bobby had been more successful than him. Not for the first time he had to suppress the urge to punch something. How could he have been so damned self centered and stupid to just let Sam walk out on him like that? If anything happened to him now...
Dean came to a sudden halt. He had just reemerged from the car wrecks when his eyes ghosted over the Impala's glossy black paint and froze in place. There, just behind the rear window slumped a large dark figure with unruly hair. The hunter nearly fell to his knees when relief flooded through him in warm waves, washing away all horror scenarios of Sam's whereabouts. However a pang of regret came with the new found ease, because a couple of years back the Impala might have been the first place for him to look. Nowadays the simple possibility of his brother seeking shelter in their four-wheeled home hadn't even crossed his mind. Not after living with logic-driven RoboSam for all these past months.
Dean approached the car as slowly as his impatience would allow. Careful to make his steps heard he inched closer, his eyes never leaving his brother's form. There was no way of telling what condition Sam was in, now that the memories had returned and surprises were probably the last thing he needed right now. His own memories of the time immediately after his resurrection were still quite vivid and he didn't want to take any chances of scaring the man even more, than he already was.
When he reached the car Sam still hadn't acknowledge his presence. He was sitting in the back, knees pulled up tight against his chest, head resting on them. Dean gingerly opened the front passenger door that was the furthest from where his brother was cowering and leaned in slowly. "Sam?" he asked with the soft voice that was reserved for his kid brother only. "Sammy, can you hear me?"
The following silence was unnerving. His big words about dealing with the reinsoulment's consequences where whispering in his head, mocking him. All his life he had been Sam's protector, whether the guy wanted him to or not. Ghosts, demons, angels, hell even semi-gods he knew how to deal with. It was no secret that he was far from perfect, but considering their lifestyle he thought he had done pretty good job most of the time. But how was he supposed to protect his sibling from this? From the nightmares locked within himself, that Dean couldn't even imagine?
"It's Sam."
Dean froze. Not sure whether his minds was playing tricks on him or if that thin voice could actually belong to his overgrown brother he carefully answered:
"What?"
"Sammy is a chubby twelve year old." the younger man spoke again, his voice crackling like shards of broken glass.
Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This was a start. As long as his brother was responsive and knew what was going on around him there should be a way to fix things, fix him.
Steps sounded out from the gravel and when the hunter straightened up he saw Bobby's worried face appear from behind the house. Without saying a word Dean nodded, letting the older man know he could stop searching. The hunter's tense shoulders visibly relaxed. It didn't take a psychic to tell that the man blamed himself for Sam's outburst, but now was not the time to make amends. Tilting his head towards the house Dean made it clear that they needed a minute. Bobby simply nodded his approval before quietly going back inside.
"You gave us quite a fright, running off like that." Dean said after turning his attention back to the Impala's interior, keeping his tone as light as possible as he slowly climbed into the passenger seat. It felt awkward to sit up front while Sam was in the back, but the hunter didn't know how close he would be allowed to get.
The younger man lifted his head when he noticed the movement in the car. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, giving his face a haunted look. He swallowed heavily, as if his throat had suddenly become to tight to speak.
"Sorry." he finally whispered, his voice slightly breaking near the end.
Dean tensed. He immediately had picking up on a deeper meaning behind the simple word. Over the years he had learned to read his brother like an open book and even though he had gotten a bit rusty, parts of it still came natural.
"It's ok. Nothing to be sorry for."
A dark chuckle erupted from the younger man as he leaned his head against the window behind him. "Yeah right."
Something in Dean's mind suddenly clicked. Sam's surprising lucidity despite everything Castiel had said, the speed with which events had turned bad after he woke up... This wasn't about the time in the cage, probably never had been. This was about his soullessness. Dean could practically feel the guilt leaking from his sibling, piling around him like quicksand, ready to swallow him whole at any second. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not on his watch, not ever.
Following his instincts he leaned over the backrest and placed his hand on the young man's arm.
"Hey, look at me." When there was no reaction, he tried again.
"Look at me, Sam."
After too many beats of his pounding heart the younger man surrendered to his bidding. Dean was prepared for the fear and tiredness in Sam's bloodshot eyes, however the deep level of torment and self loathing in them came as a surprise. All at once Sam looked twenty years younger and older, scarred and vulnerable.
"Why didn't you just kill me?"
Now it was Dean's turn to recoil like he had been burned.
"What?"
"Back at Calumet City, after Veritas told you truth about me. Why don't just kill me and be done with it?" Sam's voice was worrisome calm. As if he was sure that now that he had brought it up, Dean would see reason and make up for his missed chance.
Dean however was to stunned to breathe, let alone answer. He had been there, when his brother had gone through his darkest moments. Jess's and their father's death, the visions, the aftermaths of the possession, the guilt over Dean's deal, hell even the demon blood and setting loose the apocalypse. But not once in all these years had he witnessed his sibling surrendering completely, not like this.
Before he was able to form another coherent thought Sam continued, his volume and urgency increasing with every word leaving his lips.
"Or after I tried to...to take out Bobby? Why didn't you stop me once and for all? I mean, what does it take for you to figure out that I'm not worth it? That I don't deserve saving!"
Before he knew what was happening the youngest Winchester was out of and around the car, ripping open the door and pulling him out by his shirt. The fabric made a nasty ripping noise while Dean tried to find his footing.
"What the...!" he started to say, but all air left his lungs when he was shoved up against the side of the Impala.
He pushed hard against his brother's chest, causing him to stumble back. Catching his breath he burst out: "Sam, what...!"
"Do you see that?" the younger man interrupted him unfazed. He was holding out his trembling hands while he stared down on his sibling, his eyes wide and troubled.
"Do you have any idea how many people's blood is on these hands? I never really counted, because I simply didn't care!" he spat out, unable to hold in the rage boiling within any longer.
Misinterpreting the shocked look on the older man's face he carried on.
"And remember when I fed you to that vamp? It was because the risk seemed worth taking, because if things went to hell it would only mean one more grave to dig, collateral damage, nothing else."
He had stepped right in Dean's face again. His whole body was shaking, his ragged breathing the only sound in the tension filled air. All of a sudden a dark shadow danced across his already tight face and the older hunter could have sworn he saw something deep inside of his brother break when another memory made it to the surface.
"Kids, Dean." Sam whispered, quickly averting his eyes to the ground. His hands returned to their prior place on his brother's shirt, barely able to hold on due to the increasing tremors running through his large frame.
"I killed two children with these hands." he finally continued. Dean could not so much hear as feel the suppressed sobs coming from his brother, constricting his throat like he had actually been there with Sam and not just heard about it. "I killed them, because I couldn't be certain whether or not they were werewolves and there was no time to make...no time to make sure."
On the last word Sam's knees gave out. His fingers went slack and he would have hit the ground like a stone hadn't it been for his brother, who was there in an instant. Easing the fall as much as possible Dean held on to his sibling, when the tears finally broke free. Sam clung to him for dear life, his face buried in his brother's chest, shaking and sobbing and barely catching a gasp of air in between.
"I got you. I'm not going anywhere." Dean muttered over and over, his arms building an indestructible wall, separating his little brother from the rest of the world, keeping him safe.
"I'm right here."
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