You Can Always Go Home: Chapter 5
Title: You Can Always Go Home (Gift for madebyme_x)
Gifter: safiyabat
Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Henry Winchester, Josie Sands, Abaddon, Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Meg Masters. Pairings (which are secondary) are Sam x Jess and Henry x Josie.
Word count: 29,624 / 5,126 (chapter)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possession, demons.
Summary: The Men of Letters team finds a way. Team Winchester does too.
Sam gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could as he barreled down the highway. He knew he was scaring his companions, even Jess. He’d care about that later, probably. No, definitely. It would absolutely bother him later on that he was messing up such a good relationship with the only family that wanted him. His relationship with Jess would probably survive, although he’d have a lot of work to do playing the attentive boyfriend. That was okay; it was a role he enjoyed.
But Henry? And Josie? Yeah, they weren’t going to be so keen on seeing him again, not after seeing him shut down like this. Not after seeing the way that the entire world narrowed to just, “Dean.” He wasn’t even sure that he wanted Henry around, because Henry was using Dean as bait. Henry was using Dean as bait against John, and there was nothing in the world less messed-up than that.
They let him drive in silence for a while, tension that was thicker than oatmeal making it difficult to breathe in the stolen car. (A stolen car that Sam knew he should ditch soon; no good came of hanging onto things for very long.) Only after five and a half hours, when Dean called to tell Henry that Bobby Singer was in place and that things were going according to plan, did anyone dare to speak to him.
“Sam,” Josie said, leaning forward. “I know this is difficult. They rejected you but they’re still your family, right?”
Sam grunted. He didn’t feel compelled to dignify that with any better response.
“We’re going to make sure that this demon can’t hurt anyone, ever again.” Her tone was probably intended to be soothing. It probably would have soothed a civilian.
“Except that demon is walled up pretty tight inside my father,” Sam ground out. “If we can figure out a way to kill a Knight of Hell, then we have to kill my dad. And Dean’s going to see me sitting there and killing his Dad. His hero.” Sam hadn’t thought his fingers could grip the wheel any tighter, but apparently they could.
“The coordinates that Winters gave us are to a repository - a kind of bunker,” Henry told him, swallowing. “We’ve never been. We were supposed to have been taken there after our initiation. But the bunker, in addition to holding the most extensive library of the paranormal and supernatural ever assembled, contains a massive assembly of artifacts and weapons that will affect even a Knight of Hell.”
“We’ll find what we need in there,” Josie told him. Sam heard the rustle of cloth behind him, as though the older woman were trying to reach out and touch him, but he saw Jess stop her in the rearview mirror.
Thank God for Jess.
“There should be a way to draw her out of your father, Sam,” Henry said, trying for a confident smile. “He’s my son. I want him to live.”
Sam turned back to the road, where every dotted white line screamed Dean’s name as they passed it.
The drive from Normal to Lebanon, Kansas took close to nine hours. They stopped once, for gas. When they got to the coordinates Winters had slipped them - and hadn’t that been clever, using the ancient Egyptian numbering system - Sam frowned. Maybe it was just because it was dark, but the place just looked like a basic electrical substation to him. “This is it?”
Jess looked at him and back at the dumpy little shelter, set into a hill. She didn’t look impressed either.
Josie and Henry, though - they looked enthralled. Their faces shone with anticipation. If the circumstances were any different Sam would have thought it was their wedding day or something. Everything he was getting from them was hope, and excitement, and anticipation, and confidence. If there were a victory to be had, it would come from whatever was inside Substation 542.
Henry strode forward, key in hand, and unlocked the door.
Sam and Jess followed him. For a moment, the place stayed shrouded in darkness. Then Josie found a switch on the wall and brilliant light flickered into existence. “Well,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “It’s bigger on the inside.”
And it was. Iron stairs led down into what looked like an elegant bank vault. There was even a table with a light-up map of the world. There were shelves filled with books, and with art, and with seemingly abandoned weapons strewn about.
Sam approached the Japanese sword hat stood on a stand. He didn’t feel the need to test its sharpness.
“Alright. There should be a catalog…” Josie strode over to a large credenza against a back wall as Jess squeezed Sam’s hand. “Time enough to explore later. We need to know where to find something that we can use to save John.”
It took them fifteen minutes of searching to find something that they could use. “Storage room six,” Jess announced, pulling a card out of a drawer and marking her place. “A Jar of Binding.”
Sam darted over to read the entry aloud over her shoulder. “Upon exorcism, the spirit - demonic or otherwise - is trapped within the jar. Similar to the demon trap bowls of Mesopotamia.” Hope welled up in him for the first time. He fought to temper it down; nothing ever worked as smoothly as that process described it.
Storage Room Six took them another twenty minutes to find. Once they were there, the jar wasn’t difficult to spot. It was the one with all the cuneiform writing on it. Josie pulled it off the shelf and cradled it lovingly in her arms.
Henry, in the meantime, found something else on the shelf. “I’d heard about these.” He tossed a box of bullets over to Sam, who caught them on instinct but almost recoiled.
“Bullets? Henry, what the hell?”
“Look closely, Sam. There’s a devil’s trap etched into the tip of each one.” He grinned. “You don’t have to hit him in a fatal spot. It should hold him long enough to pull Abaddon out of him, if this doesn’t work. It’ll send her back to hell, but it’s better than leaving your dad possessed and chasing after Dean. Right?”
Sam breathed out a long, slow breath and loaded his gun with the altered bullets. “Good point.” He could do this. They could do this. It was all okay.
Thus armed, the quartet returned to the Pilot and drove to the spot appointed for the showdown. Singer had chosen it, since he’d gotten there first. Sam swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen Bobby Singer in ten years; not since he’d been all of twelve years old, dumped off by his father when Dean had “gone missing on a hunt.” Bobby’d been willing enough to never see Sam again and Sam couldn’t blame him, but they’d have to deal with each other now. It was all for Dean, right? And Dad, of course.
He got out of the car when they got to the field. The stars out here were intense; but he’d have expected nothing less in a town with all of two hundred fifty people. The air was cold and sharp - nothing like the Palo Alto sea air. For a moment, just a second, everything felt perfectly still. This was a momentous occasion. Everything was coming home to roost. No matter what happened, the family would reunite for a few moments at least. A great evil would be faced, and either would destroy them or be destroyed by them.
Jess nudged him, and he moved again.
Bobby Singer appeared from around a barn. “You must be Henry Winchester.” He looked the same. Bobby Singer would never change. He was eternal, like the sun, the moon and the stars. He’d probably be the same, and still wearing that hat, when the Earth stopped moving around the sun. “Bobby Singer. I’m a friend of Dean’s.”
“Where’s Dean?” Sam couldn’t get caught up in sentimentality and he couldn’t get caught up in the might have beens. “Is he here?”
Bobby’s eyes widened a little bit. “That can’t be Sammy.”
Jess put an arm around him. “It’s Sam now.”
“How in the hell did you get so big, boy? Was your mother a giant?” He shook his head. “Well, it’s good to see you anyway. Dean and Jim Murphy are here. Come on out, boys,” Singer called. “The gang’s all here.”
Dean and Pastor Jim came out of the barn. Dean’s eyes slid over Sam, checking him from head to foot, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t, not now. Not when they had a job as big as this. “Good to see you all again,” Jim told them.
Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. “So… what. Do we just hang around and wait for the bitch to show up or do a little dance or what?”
Sam felt a familiar tug in his blood. “Showtime,” he told them.
“Aw, Dean. I’m touched, really. If I’d known you were so attached to me I’d have taken you instead of him.” The voice was Dad’s and not at the same time, maybe it had been a while but Sam still recognized his father’s voice well enough to know the difference. “I suppose we could probably make the trade. What do you say? You want to give yourself up, sacrifice yourself for dear old dad?”
“Shut up,” Sam spat out. “Dean’s not going to be your meat suit.”
“Oh look, it’s the little exorcist that could.” Abaddon’s stolen features twisted. “It’s good to see you. Really, it is. I was curious about you. Kind of annoyed that you dumped me back into the pit, but you know - details.” She waved a hand. “I asked around, and boy are you a hot topic of conversation downstairs! ‘The Little Prince,’ they call you. Only not so little, I suppose.” She glanced at Dean with John’s eyes and smirked. “How does it feel, Dean? Being the ‘big brother’ to royalty?”
“Get out of my father,” Dean ordered her. He didn’t even look at Sam. Sam wasn’t surprised.
“I don’t think so. I like having a Winchester meat suit. It’s comfortable. Powerful. Designed for other uses, but you know demons. Never could follow orders.” She smirked. “Or so Johnny here has always said.”
Sam’s stomach roiled, and he found himself grateful that he’d skipped food on the way here. He glanced at Jess and at Josie. Both nodded. Then he took a deep breath and began the exorcism.
Abaddon squirmed. “Really, Sam? Are you sure you want to do that? Way I see it you’ve got the best of both possible worlds right now. Because you want no part of what your father has in mind for you, and you and me - we’ve got more in common than you think.” She gestured and Henry went flying across the field. “Let’s talk, Sammy.”
“I thought you were supposed to lay down a devil’s trap!” Josie hissed to Bobby.
“I did!” Bobby hissed back, as Sam continued with the exorcism. “In the damn barn. You were supposed to draw her into the damn barn!”
“You think you might have wanted to clue the college crowd in on the plan before we got started?” Dean yelled. “Sammy! Don’t you stop!”
Sam rolled his eyes as the Latin continued to pour forth from his mouth. He hadn’t planned to stop, wasn’t going to stop. He gained nothing from pulling back. “I’m literally the only one who can teach you how to use what’s in your blood, Sammy.” Abaddon’s voice beckoned, so like his father’s but welcoming, alluring. “I may not think Azazel’s plan was even close to half baked, but since you’re here? I can show you things you never dreamed of. Power beyond your wildest dreams. The ground itself began to shake, sending Pastor Jim to the ground. “Everyone who ever hurt you will be crushed under your boots.”
Sam continued to recite. Beside him, Jess murmured in Old Slavonic and gestured with both hands. Sam could feel the power radiating from her, long lavender ropes reaching out toward the demon. They didn’t have to shoot his father. He reached out with his own energy and lent it to his fiancée even as he continued to speak. They hadn’t practiced this before, not under battle conditions, but he knew that their energies meshed well. Today was no exception, and her bonds on Abaddon strengthened.
The demon’s stolen body started to sweat. “I tried the carrot. Now it’s time for the stick. You can send me back to Hell, Sammy-boy, but you know damn well that I’ll climb right back out. And when I do, the first thing I’m going to do is find that brother of yours. And I’m going to take those pretty, pretty eyes of his for trophies!”
“Te rogamus, audi nos!” Sam completed with a gasp.
As the final sounds of Sam’s voice rang out over the field, John’s head flew back and an impossible quantity of oily black smoke came pouring out. Something inside of Sam twitched; it wanted to reach out to the smoke and… well, he couldn’t quite identify what he wanted to do to Abaddon’s demonic essence, but he didn’t think it was good.
He didn’t have time to analyze it, however. Josie whipped the jar out from under her coat as soon as Abaddon emerged from John Winchester. Abaddon was pulled into the jar. Sam got a sense of resistance; he heard screams that he somehow knew weren’t audible on this plane, felt the pull almost of a black hole. His hair, alone of the humans present, moved as Abaddon used everything she had to avoid the confinement.
There was nothing she could do. While Sam couldn’t quite grasp the physics of how a being so huge could fit into such a small jar, or into a body like John’s or Josie’s, the smoke finally disappeared and Josie closed the lid with firmness that Sam thought restrained, all things considered. “It’s safe now,” she said, breathing deeply and smiling. “I’ll want to put a seal on this thing, but we can research that later.”
Henry had managed to drag himself back over to the rest of the group. He threw his arms around Josie and held her close. “She’s gone.”
Josie set the jar down and just melted into Henry’s arms. They didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything that would’ve been inappropriate for their own time, but Sam still looked away. As he did, he noticed that everyone else seemed to be finding something else to look at.
Dean, Sam noticed, was staring at him. It was hard to quantify what, exactly Dean’s expression meant, and how sad was that? There had been a time when he could have practically read Dean’s every thought based on the slightest twitch in his brother’s eyebrow. Now he found himself swallowing against a lump in his throat, composed of equal parts fear and grief. What was that old song? “You can always go home, you just can’t stay?”
The moment broke. Dean turned away and raced to his father’s side. “He’s alive,” the young hunter told them all, relief making him look ten years younger. “He’s alive.”
Josie pulled her jacket closer to herself. “It’s best if you get him someplace warm. Getting ridden by something like that… well, it’s not easy on a body. They ride you hard and put you away wet.” Henry snaked an arm around her shoulders. “He’ll need a lot of looking after.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Dean’s jaw clenched. “I’m his son.”
Sam couldn’t take that, all that his brother’s words implied. He squeezed Jess’ hand and retreated to the car. Jess, Henry and Josie joined him after a few minutes, presumably making their goodbyes. Josie carried the demon jar.
No one spoke as they drove back to the bunker. “I’ll start researching ways to put some kind of a seal on this thing,” Josie promised. “I know in theory that she can’t open it, but I’ll feel better if it’s… more permanent than that.”
Sam supposed he could sympathize with that, or at least empathize. “Makes sense. I spotted some chairs in the library; it’s been a long day for all of us. Maybe we should wait for next steps until tomorrow?”
Henry’s entire demeanor changed. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. After a second, Sam recognized it as an affectionate gesture. “Sam. You did well today. I’m so, so proud of you. You were incredibly strong out there, you and Jess.”
Jess touched her lips to his. “We do make a pretty good team.”
Sam forced himself to relax. He was being an idiot, mourning for something that could never have happened. He needed to appreciate today for the huge win it had been and not obsess over anything else. “Thanks. And yeah. We do.” He kissed Jess back and retreated to the library. He’d react better in the morning.
*
Dean moved on autopilot. Sam hadn’t waited around, hadn’t checked on Dad, had just slunk off when the thing was over. Henry had stuck around to be sure. Even Sam’s still-nameless fiancée, the one who hadn’t been shy about casting some kind of spell to help him with that exorcism and that was something Dean definitely didn’t want to think about right now, had stuck around longer than Sam. But hey - why would today be any different than any other time?
Between Dean, Bobby and Pastor Jim they managed to get Dad back to the Impala. From there, they drove back to the motel that Bobby had been thoughtful enough to secure ahead of time. “Thanks for setting this up, Bobby,” he said with a heavy sigh, wrangling his dad’s inert form into one of the queen beds. “I never got the chance.”
“Well, I did have about a three hour head start on you.” Bobby gave him a thin little smile and sank down into one of the chairs. “How are you holding up, son? That whole mess must have done a number on you.”
“Bobby, it ain’t about me.” Dean wrestled his father’s left boot off as Jim took care of the right. Dad’s the one who was hurting. We need to focus on him. I mean, he was possessed by a superdemon!”
“I know that, Dean.” Bobby shook his head. “And he’ll have some stuff to work through, sure. But humor me here and let’s talk about you. I mean, you ain’t seen hide nor hair of Sammy in what, two years?”
“Something like.” Dean gritted his teeth. “What’s your point?”
Jim sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “You guys worked pretty well together. Like you hadn’t missed a beat.”
Dean rolled his neck and chuckled. “We always did.” He swallowed. “Where’d he learn that exorcism? I mean, Dad never taught us about demons and stuff, not until after he left. And he just fired that thing off like it’s routine for him.”
“I guess in a way it kind of is.” The priest grimaced and went to sit near Bobby. “Your father suspected something was after Sam. He’s had some issues; had to learn a few things here and there. Fortunately for him, he met Jess. Jess has a bit of… let’s say she knows a thing or two. It’s come in handy.”
“I’m sure.” Dean considered taking off his father’s jeans, to make him more comfortable, but decided against it. After losing control of his body to such a creature he might not find comfort in losing his pants. “Is he okay?”
“Ask him yourself, Dean.” Jim folded his lips together.
“Jim, he walked away.”
“He might have had his reasons.” Bobby sighed. “I’m not saying that Sam doesn’t have his defects, and I get that you and your dad had your reasons for kicking him to the curb. But he’s the one that faced down that superdemon and saved your daddy tonight, him and that pretty blonde of his. It ain’t like we gave him a warm welcome, either.”
“It’s complicated, Bobby.” Dean turned his head to look at his father’s face.
“It really isn’t, Dean.” Jim gave him a gentle smile. “The choice is yours.”
Dean nodded a little, but Jim didn’t get it. Neither did Bobby, not really, although Bobby understood better than Jim did. Sammy had saved them, sure. And Dean was grateful, he was, but what good was it for Sam to save them if he wasn’t going to stick around? Yeah, he couldn’t stay. Dean got that, but he could have stuck around to say hello to the brother that had bandaged him up on hunts and tried his best to keep the family together. He could have checked on the father who had carried him along everywhere despite his taint…
Except that was why he hadn’t stayed, wasn’t it? Dad hadn’t told Sammy what he knew; hell, Dean wasn’t dumb enough to think that Dad had told him everything he knew, and Dean wasn’t that smart. But since when had Sam ever been content to get his information from Dad? Sam would have found out from somewhere, and he probably knew more than Dad did about it by now. Everyone kept telling him that Sammy was terrified, was afraid for his life from his family and maybe Dean needed to step up and take a stand. Dean loved his brother. He couldn’t hurt Sammy, not for real. He couldn’t let someone else do it either. As a general rule he trusted his dad to know what was right and to make the decisions, but when it came to Sammy Dean had to admit that John had a few blind spots.
For now, he couldn’t do much. He’d seen the kid; Sammy’d been running on coffee and adrenaline for a few days, if Dean was any judge. He knew the boy. He knew that when Sam had a bee up his skirt about something he’d keep going until he dealt with it or someone clubbed him over the head and knocked him out, no matter what. Now that Abaddon was dealt with and the crisis averted he’d probably be crashing hard in some other hotel, and if not Dean was going to have a long talk with Blondie and with Gramps.
The next morning, John woke up. His body didn’t seem to be damaged by his ordeal, but the dark circles under his eyes and the tremor to his hands spoke volumes about his ordeal. “How you feeling, Johnny?” Bobby asked him.
John still had enough left in him to make a face. “I must have been in dire straits if you’re here without your shotgun.”
“How much do you remember?” Jim asked him, peering intently at the grizzled face.
John hesitated. “Enough. I remember enough.” He swallowed. “I remember everything up until she got pulled out of me.”
Jim filled him in on the solution that the Men of Letters had come up with. “So it looks like the demon isn’t a factor anymore.” He gave John a confident, encouraging smile. “I’m going to go and get some breakfast for the bunch of us, okay? I’ll be back.”
Bobby joined him, leaving Dean and John alone together.
The Winchesters sat in uncomfortable silence for a good five minutes. Dean tried not to squirm. Then John spoke. “Son.”
“It wasn’t you,” Dean said, almost before his father got the word out. “Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t you.”
“I know that.” He narrowed his eyes, but Dean knew his father was just paying lip service. He’d never met a possession survivor who hadn’t been haunted by the act long after the exorcism. “I just… Sammy did this.”
“This is not Sam’s fault!” Dean growled. “The only thing he did was to face down that thing and come out on top, you hear me?” He blinked, realizing that he’d risen to his feet and leaned across the table, leaning into his father’s space.
His father gave an exhausted chuckle. “Stand down, tiger. I know that. Better than anyone else, I know that, okay? I. Uh. I think we should maybe get together with them. If they’re still in town.”
Dean fell back into his seat with an audible “thud.” His jaw hung open. “Excuse me?”
“I still don’t agree with Henry and Josie getting into the spellwork and all that nonsense. I just don’t hold with that. But it’s not like Bobby Singer doesn’t play that way. Maybe it’s time for an old man to open his mind a little bit. Being possessed by her… well, it taught me to see some things differently. Or at least to be willing to try.” He blew out a long, slow breath.
Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. I see what you mean. I’ll get Jim to call them when he gets back. Don’t want to spook Sammy, you know?”
John nodded.
When Jim returned he agreed to call the Men of Letters. He went outside to do it. Dean tried not to listen in, but he couldn’t help but overhear a quiet, insistent argument. What if they were too late? What if Sammy didn’t want to meet up with him anymore? What if they’d left already? What if Sammy had worked himself up into such a lather about them wanting to kill him - which had totally not been the case, but he could see where Sammy might have gotten that idea.
Finally, after a good ten minutes, Jim came back into the room. “Alright. They’re willing to meet up back at that field where we met up last night.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Hopefully Farmer Brown won’t mind.”
Dean snorted. “If Farmer Brown didn’t notice last night’s little showdown he’s not going to care tonight. What time?”
“They’re working on an extra seal for that jar right now. Tonight, around midnight.” Jim smiled.
Dean couldn’t sit still for the rest of the day. He kept busy cleaning their equipment and fussing over his father, until John started to get snappish about chicken soup. He went for a run on the frozen ground and did sit-ups on the grungy carpet until his entire midsection burned. And then he paced.
Finally it was time. Jim drove; he wasn’t trusting Dean behind the wheel, and John admitted that he still wasn’t quite feeling a hundred percent. Dean rode in the back with Bobby, who patted his shoulder companionably. “It’s going to be okay, son,” he murmured.
“What if he doesn’t want us anymore, Bobby?” Dean whispered. “What if he just turns us away? I mean he’s got this shiny new family -“
“I didn’t see much of them, and they do sound like they’re a lot like Sam, but Dean - they ain’t you. Ain’t no one Sam’s ever thought about more than you, kid.” Bobby shook his head. “You’re his number one. You always were, and you always will be. Even if you’re not right in front of each other at the time.”
Dean bit his cheek. If he’d been Sammy’s number one, Sammy wouldn’t have left. Still, he had to hold out a little hope, or else he wouldn’t be here, right?
Finally, they pulled up to the field and got out of the car. Dean could see the little cluster of people, over near the barn. There was Josie, unimpressed but supportive, and she was holding Henry’s hand. Henry’s face looked drawn and wary, eyes glued to John. The blonde who was going to marry Dean’s Sammy stood on Henry’s other side, just about the same height as the patriarch, and wasn’t that a feat? Sammy’d found a girl who didn’t have to stand on tiptoes to kiss him. Her arm had been around her fiancé’s waist, but it fell to her side as Sam stepped forward.
Sam almost didn’t look like he was in control of his own movements. He staggered forward, like he was being pulled along by some kind of rope. Dean could sympathize; he probably didn’t look much better. He couldn’t have stopped himself from going to Sam if he’d nailed his own feet to the ground.
Nothing else existed: not the cold December air, not Dad and Bobby and Jim, not Henry and Josie and what-was-her-name. There might have been stars in the sky, but Dean couldn’t have said one way or another. Right here and right now, there was nothing and no one in the world but him and Sammy.
They met in the middle of the field, stopping just shy of physical contact. Dean wanted to reach out, but he held back. He didn’t feel he had the right. He’d put fear in his baby brother. He hadn’t meant to, not even close, but it had happened all the same. But maybe Sammy felt the same; maybe he was just as nervous and awkward as Dean. And what was up with this? When Sam had left for college they’d been about the same height, now Dean had to look up to meet his eyes.
Those hazel orbs shone down into Dean’s, full of fear and love and regret at the same time. “Dean,” Sam exhaled, and there was so much in that one word, that one name. Maybe it was the time, or the distance that had existed between them, but Dean could actually hear what Bobby had been talking about in the car.
He reached out and put his hands on Sammy’s thin canvas coat. “I’m here, Sammy.”
That little bit of contact was like a crack in a dam. Sam wrapped his long gorilla arms around Dean and held on for dear life, bending his neck so he could bury his face on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean,” he said again. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Dean understood. Sam had missed him, but he’d been terrified for him too. “I’m okay, Sammy. Thanks to you.”
Sam squeezed a little tighter, and when the hell had the kid gotten so strong? “I couldn’t let her have you.”
Dean squeezed back, and lost himself in the pleasure of the presence of his brother.
Later, there would be time for the greater reunion, he knew. Dad was probably having a similar moment with Henry. Dean still wanted to meet Sammy’s girl, the woman who was brave enough to stand at his side when he faced down a demon. And maybe Henry and Josie deserved another chance, too. They’d brought his Sam back to him, after all.
But right now, it was just him and Sam. The rest of them could wait.
Back to Chapter Four -- Back to Masterpost
Gifter: safiyabat
Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Henry Winchester, Josie Sands, Abaddon, Bobby Singer, Pastor Jim, Meg Masters. Pairings (which are secondary) are Sam x Jess and Henry x Josie.
Word count: 29,624 / 5,126 (chapter)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Possession, demons.
Summary: The Men of Letters team finds a way. Team Winchester does too.
Sam gripped the steering wheel as tight as he could as he barreled down the highway. He knew he was scaring his companions, even Jess. He’d care about that later, probably. No, definitely. It would absolutely bother him later on that he was messing up such a good relationship with the only family that wanted him. His relationship with Jess would probably survive, although he’d have a lot of work to do playing the attentive boyfriend. That was okay; it was a role he enjoyed.
But Henry? And Josie? Yeah, they weren’t going to be so keen on seeing him again, not after seeing him shut down like this. Not after seeing the way that the entire world narrowed to just, “Dean.” He wasn’t even sure that he wanted Henry around, because Henry was using Dean as bait. Henry was using Dean as bait against John, and there was nothing in the world less messed-up than that.
They let him drive in silence for a while, tension that was thicker than oatmeal making it difficult to breathe in the stolen car. (A stolen car that Sam knew he should ditch soon; no good came of hanging onto things for very long.) Only after five and a half hours, when Dean called to tell Henry that Bobby Singer was in place and that things were going according to plan, did anyone dare to speak to him.
“Sam,” Josie said, leaning forward. “I know this is difficult. They rejected you but they’re still your family, right?”
Sam grunted. He didn’t feel compelled to dignify that with any better response.
“We’re going to make sure that this demon can’t hurt anyone, ever again.” Her tone was probably intended to be soothing. It probably would have soothed a civilian.
“Except that demon is walled up pretty tight inside my father,” Sam ground out. “If we can figure out a way to kill a Knight of Hell, then we have to kill my dad. And Dean’s going to see me sitting there and killing his Dad. His hero.” Sam hadn’t thought his fingers could grip the wheel any tighter, but apparently they could.
“The coordinates that Winters gave us are to a repository - a kind of bunker,” Henry told him, swallowing. “We’ve never been. We were supposed to have been taken there after our initiation. But the bunker, in addition to holding the most extensive library of the paranormal and supernatural ever assembled, contains a massive assembly of artifacts and weapons that will affect even a Knight of Hell.”
“We’ll find what we need in there,” Josie told him. Sam heard the rustle of cloth behind him, as though the older woman were trying to reach out and touch him, but he saw Jess stop her in the rearview mirror.
Thank God for Jess.
“There should be a way to draw her out of your father, Sam,” Henry said, trying for a confident smile. “He’s my son. I want him to live.”
Sam turned back to the road, where every dotted white line screamed Dean’s name as they passed it.
The drive from Normal to Lebanon, Kansas took close to nine hours. They stopped once, for gas. When they got to the coordinates Winters had slipped them - and hadn’t that been clever, using the ancient Egyptian numbering system - Sam frowned. Maybe it was just because it was dark, but the place just looked like a basic electrical substation to him. “This is it?”
Jess looked at him and back at the dumpy little shelter, set into a hill. She didn’t look impressed either.
Josie and Henry, though - they looked enthralled. Their faces shone with anticipation. If the circumstances were any different Sam would have thought it was their wedding day or something. Everything he was getting from them was hope, and excitement, and anticipation, and confidence. If there were a victory to be had, it would come from whatever was inside Substation 542.
Henry strode forward, key in hand, and unlocked the door.
Sam and Jess followed him. For a moment, the place stayed shrouded in darkness. Then Josie found a switch on the wall and brilliant light flickered into existence. “Well,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “It’s bigger on the inside.”
And it was. Iron stairs led down into what looked like an elegant bank vault. There was even a table with a light-up map of the world. There were shelves filled with books, and with art, and with seemingly abandoned weapons strewn about.
Sam approached the Japanese sword hat stood on a stand. He didn’t feel the need to test its sharpness.
“Alright. There should be a catalog…” Josie strode over to a large credenza against a back wall as Jess squeezed Sam’s hand. “Time enough to explore later. We need to know where to find something that we can use to save John.”
It took them fifteen minutes of searching to find something that they could use. “Storage room six,” Jess announced, pulling a card out of a drawer and marking her place. “A Jar of Binding.”
Sam darted over to read the entry aloud over her shoulder. “Upon exorcism, the spirit - demonic or otherwise - is trapped within the jar. Similar to the demon trap bowls of Mesopotamia.” Hope welled up in him for the first time. He fought to temper it down; nothing ever worked as smoothly as that process described it.
Storage Room Six took them another twenty minutes to find. Once they were there, the jar wasn’t difficult to spot. It was the one with all the cuneiform writing on it. Josie pulled it off the shelf and cradled it lovingly in her arms.
Henry, in the meantime, found something else on the shelf. “I’d heard about these.” He tossed a box of bullets over to Sam, who caught them on instinct but almost recoiled.
“Bullets? Henry, what the hell?”
“Look closely, Sam. There’s a devil’s trap etched into the tip of each one.” He grinned. “You don’t have to hit him in a fatal spot. It should hold him long enough to pull Abaddon out of him, if this doesn’t work. It’ll send her back to hell, but it’s better than leaving your dad possessed and chasing after Dean. Right?”
Sam breathed out a long, slow breath and loaded his gun with the altered bullets. “Good point.” He could do this. They could do this. It was all okay.
Thus armed, the quartet returned to the Pilot and drove to the spot appointed for the showdown. Singer had chosen it, since he’d gotten there first. Sam swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen Bobby Singer in ten years; not since he’d been all of twelve years old, dumped off by his father when Dean had “gone missing on a hunt.” Bobby’d been willing enough to never see Sam again and Sam couldn’t blame him, but they’d have to deal with each other now. It was all for Dean, right? And Dad, of course.
He got out of the car when they got to the field. The stars out here were intense; but he’d have expected nothing less in a town with all of two hundred fifty people. The air was cold and sharp - nothing like the Palo Alto sea air. For a moment, just a second, everything felt perfectly still. This was a momentous occasion. Everything was coming home to roost. No matter what happened, the family would reunite for a few moments at least. A great evil would be faced, and either would destroy them or be destroyed by them.
Jess nudged him, and he moved again.
Bobby Singer appeared from around a barn. “You must be Henry Winchester.” He looked the same. Bobby Singer would never change. He was eternal, like the sun, the moon and the stars. He’d probably be the same, and still wearing that hat, when the Earth stopped moving around the sun. “Bobby Singer. I’m a friend of Dean’s.”
“Where’s Dean?” Sam couldn’t get caught up in sentimentality and he couldn’t get caught up in the might have beens. “Is he here?”
Bobby’s eyes widened a little bit. “That can’t be Sammy.”
Jess put an arm around him. “It’s Sam now.”
“How in the hell did you get so big, boy? Was your mother a giant?” He shook his head. “Well, it’s good to see you anyway. Dean and Jim Murphy are here. Come on out, boys,” Singer called. “The gang’s all here.”
Dean and Pastor Jim came out of the barn. Dean’s eyes slid over Sam, checking him from head to foot, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t, not now. Not when they had a job as big as this. “Good to see you all again,” Jim told them.
Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. “So… what. Do we just hang around and wait for the bitch to show up or do a little dance or what?”
Sam felt a familiar tug in his blood. “Showtime,” he told them.
“Aw, Dean. I’m touched, really. If I’d known you were so attached to me I’d have taken you instead of him.” The voice was Dad’s and not at the same time, maybe it had been a while but Sam still recognized his father’s voice well enough to know the difference. “I suppose we could probably make the trade. What do you say? You want to give yourself up, sacrifice yourself for dear old dad?”
“Shut up,” Sam spat out. “Dean’s not going to be your meat suit.”
“Oh look, it’s the little exorcist that could.” Abaddon’s stolen features twisted. “It’s good to see you. Really, it is. I was curious about you. Kind of annoyed that you dumped me back into the pit, but you know - details.” She waved a hand. “I asked around, and boy are you a hot topic of conversation downstairs! ‘The Little Prince,’ they call you. Only not so little, I suppose.” She glanced at Dean with John’s eyes and smirked. “How does it feel, Dean? Being the ‘big brother’ to royalty?”
“Get out of my father,” Dean ordered her. He didn’t even look at Sam. Sam wasn’t surprised.
“I don’t think so. I like having a Winchester meat suit. It’s comfortable. Powerful. Designed for other uses, but you know demons. Never could follow orders.” She smirked. “Or so Johnny here has always said.”
Sam’s stomach roiled, and he found himself grateful that he’d skipped food on the way here. He glanced at Jess and at Josie. Both nodded. Then he took a deep breath and began the exorcism.
Abaddon squirmed. “Really, Sam? Are you sure you want to do that? Way I see it you’ve got the best of both possible worlds right now. Because you want no part of what your father has in mind for you, and you and me - we’ve got more in common than you think.” She gestured and Henry went flying across the field. “Let’s talk, Sammy.”
“I thought you were supposed to lay down a devil’s trap!” Josie hissed to Bobby.
“I did!” Bobby hissed back, as Sam continued with the exorcism. “In the damn barn. You were supposed to draw her into the damn barn!”
“You think you might have wanted to clue the college crowd in on the plan before we got started?” Dean yelled. “Sammy! Don’t you stop!”
Sam rolled his eyes as the Latin continued to pour forth from his mouth. He hadn’t planned to stop, wasn’t going to stop. He gained nothing from pulling back. “I’m literally the only one who can teach you how to use what’s in your blood, Sammy.” Abaddon’s voice beckoned, so like his father’s but welcoming, alluring. “I may not think Azazel’s plan was even close to half baked, but since you’re here? I can show you things you never dreamed of. Power beyond your wildest dreams. The ground itself began to shake, sending Pastor Jim to the ground. “Everyone who ever hurt you will be crushed under your boots.”
Sam continued to recite. Beside him, Jess murmured in Old Slavonic and gestured with both hands. Sam could feel the power radiating from her, long lavender ropes reaching out toward the demon. They didn’t have to shoot his father. He reached out with his own energy and lent it to his fiancée even as he continued to speak. They hadn’t practiced this before, not under battle conditions, but he knew that their energies meshed well. Today was no exception, and her bonds on Abaddon strengthened.
The demon’s stolen body started to sweat. “I tried the carrot. Now it’s time for the stick. You can send me back to Hell, Sammy-boy, but you know damn well that I’ll climb right back out. And when I do, the first thing I’m going to do is find that brother of yours. And I’m going to take those pretty, pretty eyes of his for trophies!”
“Te rogamus, audi nos!” Sam completed with a gasp.
As the final sounds of Sam’s voice rang out over the field, John’s head flew back and an impossible quantity of oily black smoke came pouring out. Something inside of Sam twitched; it wanted to reach out to the smoke and… well, he couldn’t quite identify what he wanted to do to Abaddon’s demonic essence, but he didn’t think it was good.
He didn’t have time to analyze it, however. Josie whipped the jar out from under her coat as soon as Abaddon emerged from John Winchester. Abaddon was pulled into the jar. Sam got a sense of resistance; he heard screams that he somehow knew weren’t audible on this plane, felt the pull almost of a black hole. His hair, alone of the humans present, moved as Abaddon used everything she had to avoid the confinement.
There was nothing she could do. While Sam couldn’t quite grasp the physics of how a being so huge could fit into such a small jar, or into a body like John’s or Josie’s, the smoke finally disappeared and Josie closed the lid with firmness that Sam thought restrained, all things considered. “It’s safe now,” she said, breathing deeply and smiling. “I’ll want to put a seal on this thing, but we can research that later.”
Henry had managed to drag himself back over to the rest of the group. He threw his arms around Josie and held her close. “She’s gone.”
Josie set the jar down and just melted into Henry’s arms. They didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything that would’ve been inappropriate for their own time, but Sam still looked away. As he did, he noticed that everyone else seemed to be finding something else to look at.
Dean, Sam noticed, was staring at him. It was hard to quantify what, exactly Dean’s expression meant, and how sad was that? There had been a time when he could have practically read Dean’s every thought based on the slightest twitch in his brother’s eyebrow. Now he found himself swallowing against a lump in his throat, composed of equal parts fear and grief. What was that old song? “You can always go home, you just can’t stay?”
The moment broke. Dean turned away and raced to his father’s side. “He’s alive,” the young hunter told them all, relief making him look ten years younger. “He’s alive.”
Josie pulled her jacket closer to herself. “It’s best if you get him someplace warm. Getting ridden by something like that… well, it’s not easy on a body. They ride you hard and put you away wet.” Henry snaked an arm around her shoulders. “He’ll need a lot of looking after.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Dean’s jaw clenched. “I’m his son.”
Sam couldn’t take that, all that his brother’s words implied. He squeezed Jess’ hand and retreated to the car. Jess, Henry and Josie joined him after a few minutes, presumably making their goodbyes. Josie carried the demon jar.
No one spoke as they drove back to the bunker. “I’ll start researching ways to put some kind of a seal on this thing,” Josie promised. “I know in theory that she can’t open it, but I’ll feel better if it’s… more permanent than that.”
Sam supposed he could sympathize with that, or at least empathize. “Makes sense. I spotted some chairs in the library; it’s been a long day for all of us. Maybe we should wait for next steps until tomorrow?”
Henry’s entire demeanor changed. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. After a second, Sam recognized it as an affectionate gesture. “Sam. You did well today. I’m so, so proud of you. You were incredibly strong out there, you and Jess.”
Jess touched her lips to his. “We do make a pretty good team.”
Sam forced himself to relax. He was being an idiot, mourning for something that could never have happened. He needed to appreciate today for the huge win it had been and not obsess over anything else. “Thanks. And yeah. We do.” He kissed Jess back and retreated to the library. He’d react better in the morning.
*
Dean moved on autopilot. Sam hadn’t waited around, hadn’t checked on Dad, had just slunk off when the thing was over. Henry had stuck around to be sure. Even Sam’s still-nameless fiancée, the one who hadn’t been shy about casting some kind of spell to help him with that exorcism and that was something Dean definitely didn’t want to think about right now, had stuck around longer than Sam. But hey - why would today be any different than any other time?
Between Dean, Bobby and Pastor Jim they managed to get Dad back to the Impala. From there, they drove back to the motel that Bobby had been thoughtful enough to secure ahead of time. “Thanks for setting this up, Bobby,” he said with a heavy sigh, wrangling his dad’s inert form into one of the queen beds. “I never got the chance.”
“Well, I did have about a three hour head start on you.” Bobby gave him a thin little smile and sank down into one of the chairs. “How are you holding up, son? That whole mess must have done a number on you.”
“Bobby, it ain’t about me.” Dean wrestled his father’s left boot off as Jim took care of the right. Dad’s the one who was hurting. We need to focus on him. I mean, he was possessed by a superdemon!”
“I know that, Dean.” Bobby shook his head. “And he’ll have some stuff to work through, sure. But humor me here and let’s talk about you. I mean, you ain’t seen hide nor hair of Sammy in what, two years?”
“Something like.” Dean gritted his teeth. “What’s your point?”
Jim sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “You guys worked pretty well together. Like you hadn’t missed a beat.”
Dean rolled his neck and chuckled. “We always did.” He swallowed. “Where’d he learn that exorcism? I mean, Dad never taught us about demons and stuff, not until after he left. And he just fired that thing off like it’s routine for him.”
“I guess in a way it kind of is.” The priest grimaced and went to sit near Bobby. “Your father suspected something was after Sam. He’s had some issues; had to learn a few things here and there. Fortunately for him, he met Jess. Jess has a bit of… let’s say she knows a thing or two. It’s come in handy.”
“I’m sure.” Dean considered taking off his father’s jeans, to make him more comfortable, but decided against it. After losing control of his body to such a creature he might not find comfort in losing his pants. “Is he okay?”
“Ask him yourself, Dean.” Jim folded his lips together.
“Jim, he walked away.”
“He might have had his reasons.” Bobby sighed. “I’m not saying that Sam doesn’t have his defects, and I get that you and your dad had your reasons for kicking him to the curb. But he’s the one that faced down that superdemon and saved your daddy tonight, him and that pretty blonde of his. It ain’t like we gave him a warm welcome, either.”
“It’s complicated, Bobby.” Dean turned his head to look at his father’s face.
“It really isn’t, Dean.” Jim gave him a gentle smile. “The choice is yours.”
Dean nodded a little, but Jim didn’t get it. Neither did Bobby, not really, although Bobby understood better than Jim did. Sammy had saved them, sure. And Dean was grateful, he was, but what good was it for Sam to save them if he wasn’t going to stick around? Yeah, he couldn’t stay. Dean got that, but he could have stuck around to say hello to the brother that had bandaged him up on hunts and tried his best to keep the family together. He could have checked on the father who had carried him along everywhere despite his taint…
Except that was why he hadn’t stayed, wasn’t it? Dad hadn’t told Sammy what he knew; hell, Dean wasn’t dumb enough to think that Dad had told him everything he knew, and Dean wasn’t that smart. But since when had Sam ever been content to get his information from Dad? Sam would have found out from somewhere, and he probably knew more than Dad did about it by now. Everyone kept telling him that Sammy was terrified, was afraid for his life from his family and maybe Dean needed to step up and take a stand. Dean loved his brother. He couldn’t hurt Sammy, not for real. He couldn’t let someone else do it either. As a general rule he trusted his dad to know what was right and to make the decisions, but when it came to Sammy Dean had to admit that John had a few blind spots.
For now, he couldn’t do much. He’d seen the kid; Sammy’d been running on coffee and adrenaline for a few days, if Dean was any judge. He knew the boy. He knew that when Sam had a bee up his skirt about something he’d keep going until he dealt with it or someone clubbed him over the head and knocked him out, no matter what. Now that Abaddon was dealt with and the crisis averted he’d probably be crashing hard in some other hotel, and if not Dean was going to have a long talk with Blondie and with Gramps.
The next morning, John woke up. His body didn’t seem to be damaged by his ordeal, but the dark circles under his eyes and the tremor to his hands spoke volumes about his ordeal. “How you feeling, Johnny?” Bobby asked him.
John still had enough left in him to make a face. “I must have been in dire straits if you’re here without your shotgun.”
“How much do you remember?” Jim asked him, peering intently at the grizzled face.
John hesitated. “Enough. I remember enough.” He swallowed. “I remember everything up until she got pulled out of me.”
Jim filled him in on the solution that the Men of Letters had come up with. “So it looks like the demon isn’t a factor anymore.” He gave John a confident, encouraging smile. “I’m going to go and get some breakfast for the bunch of us, okay? I’ll be back.”
Bobby joined him, leaving Dean and John alone together.
The Winchesters sat in uncomfortable silence for a good five minutes. Dean tried not to squirm. Then John spoke. “Son.”
“It wasn’t you,” Dean said, almost before his father got the word out. “Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t you.”
“I know that.” He narrowed his eyes, but Dean knew his father was just paying lip service. He’d never met a possession survivor who hadn’t been haunted by the act long after the exorcism. “I just… Sammy did this.”
“This is not Sam’s fault!” Dean growled. “The only thing he did was to face down that thing and come out on top, you hear me?” He blinked, realizing that he’d risen to his feet and leaned across the table, leaning into his father’s space.
His father gave an exhausted chuckle. “Stand down, tiger. I know that. Better than anyone else, I know that, okay? I. Uh. I think we should maybe get together with them. If they’re still in town.”
Dean fell back into his seat with an audible “thud.” His jaw hung open. “Excuse me?”
“I still don’t agree with Henry and Josie getting into the spellwork and all that nonsense. I just don’t hold with that. But it’s not like Bobby Singer doesn’t play that way. Maybe it’s time for an old man to open his mind a little bit. Being possessed by her… well, it taught me to see some things differently. Or at least to be willing to try.” He blew out a long, slow breath.
Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. I see what you mean. I’ll get Jim to call them when he gets back. Don’t want to spook Sammy, you know?”
John nodded.
When Jim returned he agreed to call the Men of Letters. He went outside to do it. Dean tried not to listen in, but he couldn’t help but overhear a quiet, insistent argument. What if they were too late? What if Sammy didn’t want to meet up with him anymore? What if they’d left already? What if Sammy had worked himself up into such a lather about them wanting to kill him - which had totally not been the case, but he could see where Sammy might have gotten that idea.
Finally, after a good ten minutes, Jim came back into the room. “Alright. They’re willing to meet up back at that field where we met up last night.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Hopefully Farmer Brown won’t mind.”
Dean snorted. “If Farmer Brown didn’t notice last night’s little showdown he’s not going to care tonight. What time?”
“They’re working on an extra seal for that jar right now. Tonight, around midnight.” Jim smiled.
Dean couldn’t sit still for the rest of the day. He kept busy cleaning their equipment and fussing over his father, until John started to get snappish about chicken soup. He went for a run on the frozen ground and did sit-ups on the grungy carpet until his entire midsection burned. And then he paced.
Finally it was time. Jim drove; he wasn’t trusting Dean behind the wheel, and John admitted that he still wasn’t quite feeling a hundred percent. Dean rode in the back with Bobby, who patted his shoulder companionably. “It’s going to be okay, son,” he murmured.
“What if he doesn’t want us anymore, Bobby?” Dean whispered. “What if he just turns us away? I mean he’s got this shiny new family -“
“I didn’t see much of them, and they do sound like they’re a lot like Sam, but Dean - they ain’t you. Ain’t no one Sam’s ever thought about more than you, kid.” Bobby shook his head. “You’re his number one. You always were, and you always will be. Even if you’re not right in front of each other at the time.”
Dean bit his cheek. If he’d been Sammy’s number one, Sammy wouldn’t have left. Still, he had to hold out a little hope, or else he wouldn’t be here, right?
Finally, they pulled up to the field and got out of the car. Dean could see the little cluster of people, over near the barn. There was Josie, unimpressed but supportive, and she was holding Henry’s hand. Henry’s face looked drawn and wary, eyes glued to John. The blonde who was going to marry Dean’s Sammy stood on Henry’s other side, just about the same height as the patriarch, and wasn’t that a feat? Sammy’d found a girl who didn’t have to stand on tiptoes to kiss him. Her arm had been around her fiancé’s waist, but it fell to her side as Sam stepped forward.
Sam almost didn’t look like he was in control of his own movements. He staggered forward, like he was being pulled along by some kind of rope. Dean could sympathize; he probably didn’t look much better. He couldn’t have stopped himself from going to Sam if he’d nailed his own feet to the ground.
Nothing else existed: not the cold December air, not Dad and Bobby and Jim, not Henry and Josie and what-was-her-name. There might have been stars in the sky, but Dean couldn’t have said one way or another. Right here and right now, there was nothing and no one in the world but him and Sammy.
They met in the middle of the field, stopping just shy of physical contact. Dean wanted to reach out, but he held back. He didn’t feel he had the right. He’d put fear in his baby brother. He hadn’t meant to, not even close, but it had happened all the same. But maybe Sammy felt the same; maybe he was just as nervous and awkward as Dean. And what was up with this? When Sam had left for college they’d been about the same height, now Dean had to look up to meet his eyes.
Those hazel orbs shone down into Dean’s, full of fear and love and regret at the same time. “Dean,” Sam exhaled, and there was so much in that one word, that one name. Maybe it was the time, or the distance that had existed between them, but Dean could actually hear what Bobby had been talking about in the car.
He reached out and put his hands on Sammy’s thin canvas coat. “I’m here, Sammy.”
That little bit of contact was like a crack in a dam. Sam wrapped his long gorilla arms around Dean and held on for dear life, bending his neck so he could bury his face on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean,” he said again. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Dean understood. Sam had missed him, but he’d been terrified for him too. “I’m okay, Sammy. Thanks to you.”
Sam squeezed a little tighter, and when the hell had the kid gotten so strong? “I couldn’t let her have you.”
Dean squeezed back, and lost himself in the pleasure of the presence of his brother.
Later, there would be time for the greater reunion, he knew. Dad was probably having a similar moment with Henry. Dean still wanted to meet Sammy’s girl, the woman who was brave enough to stand at his side when he faced down a demon. And maybe Henry and Josie deserved another chance, too. They’d brought his Sam back to him, after all.
But right now, it was just him and Sam. The rest of them could wait.
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