{SPN RBB} Entwined: Chapter 3 of 3
Chapter Three
Dean grumbles under his breath as he puts on his F.B.I. suit. “Sam, I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Sam, don’t argue with me on this.”
“Then what do you want me to do, Dean?” Sam asks, hands raised to his sides in exasperation. “Dude, we can end this. Besides, for all we know, this thing probably doesn’t even know Dad’s dead.”
“That’s not my point, Sam. This thing waited years, years, to get to these hunters. Whoever or whatever, and I’m gonna go with whatever, did this; it knows a lot more than we do. Which makes me think that we’re literally just walking into a trap. None of this feels right,” Dean rants as he forcefully puts on his tie.
“If this were any other hunt, what would you do?” Sam asks.
Dean groans. He hates it when Sam’s right. Especially in situations where he knows it’s dangerous for them both. For Sam. “Damn it, Sam.”
“Exactly. We’d be hunting this thing down.”
“Sam - “
“Dude, you know we can’t leave without finishing this. We could literally be the next targets of this thing, which I’m guessing is probably a shifter. Someone that survived that hunt. That report said ten dead bodies, but Dad’s log said that there were supposed to be eleven but they never found the last one. That they had to bolt before they drew attention to themselves.
“Look, I promise, okay? Once we’re done with this, I’ll do what you say. We’ll put all we got into getting Roman. Okay? We’ll do it your way. But this is something we got to take care of.”
“Fine, but you’re not moving from here unless someone barges in here with a shotgun and tries to gun you down.”
“That’s specific.”
“Shut up, Sam. I am not fooling around. You’re not to move an inch until I’m back with something. Then we take this killer down together, you hear me? I’m not taking any chances with this thing,” Dean says, stern. Satisfied at the nod Sam gives him (while ignoring the ‘yes, mom’ jab), Dean picks up his keys, heads out the door to the Impala and makes his way to the police station.
Adjusting his tie as he enters the sheriff’s station, he looks around, hoping to spot Gary.
“Oh, hello there, Agent. Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”
Dean turns around to see Gary exiting the sheriff’s cabin. Smiling, Dean shakes Gary’s hand. “Yeah. There’s this old case that our department is interested in, that could link to these murders. Sorry, can’t really say much more than that. I was hoping you guys still had old case records.”
“Sure, I could look for ‘em. What’s this old case you looking for?”
“Quite a few years back. Bunch of dead bodies in that barn on the edge of town. Ring a bell?”
“Oh!” Gary exclaims, a look of excitement in his eyes that slightly unnerves Dean. As far as he’s experienced, he’s never seen anyone respond to murder with enthusiasm. Not a sane human being anyway.
Gary seems to sense that and quickly amends his reaction. “Sorry. I wasn’t working here when that happened but the case has always interested me. It has been the talk of the town for years because we never found who did it. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight.”
Dean taps his feet, growing slightly impatient. He nods as he purses his lips. “Yeah, I bet it wasn’t. Anyway, you have any records on it?”
“Actually, yes. Though you’ll kind of have to…boy this is embarrassing.”
“What?” Dean asks, trying to keep his cool. He just wants to get the information and leave. The article hadn’t listed names of the people that died. Though the shifters had taken form of people in the town, they were hoping to find some sort of connection with the identities assumed.
It was a thin lead, but the only one they had.
“Like I said, the case really intrigues me. I’ve had the case files for the last month or so since all they did was eat up dust in storage. So, the records are back at my place a few blocks from here.”
Dean immediately gestures towards the exit. “Then let’s head there.”
“Sure you don’t wanna wait here?”
Dean shakes his head. “I’d wait but we’re kind of on a time crunch here, pal.”
“Okie dokes,” says Gary.
Dean walks over to the Impala, smirking as Gary looks at the car in awe. “Dang, sweet ride.”
Dean chuckles. “Thanks. You want to hop in or…”
“Nah. I’ll drive my rust bucket over there,” he says, pointing to a beaten up car a few feet away from the Impala. “I need to get some work done on the way back to the station anyway.”
Dean watches Gary trot over to his car and shakes his head in amusement. He sends a text over to Sam to let his brother know where he’s headed. He then follows Gary for a few minutes until they reach a small, cozy looking house. It reminds Dean slightly of his home back in Lawrence, and he smiles sadly as he turns off the ignition and puts the car in park.
He steps out of the car, and frowns when Gary is nowhere to be seen.
“Gar - Argh!” Dean yells as a pounding pain rocks through his skull. He falls to his knees, clutching the back of his head and trying to fight the will to pass out.
“And they said you Winchesters were smart,” Dean hears Gary say.
Dean falls to his side, losing his battle with his consciousness.
“Sammy,” he whispers, hoping against hope that Sam doesn’t come looking for him. Because his brother’s going to be walking right into a trap if he does.
His last image is the look of psychotic glee on Gary’s face as his eyelids droop and he fades away.
~o~
Sam bites nervously on his nails as he calls Dean for the fourteenth time. It isn’t like his brother to ignore his calls. It isn’t like his brother to not be back for so long. It’s been three hours. The job should have taken him about thirty minutes at the most.
“Damn it, Dean, pick up your fucking phone,” Sam mutters.
Someone’s a little fidgety.
“Shut up,” Sam snarls, looking in Lucifer’s direction. He does not have time for this.
He reads over the text Dean sent him.
Heading over 2 Off. Garys place 4 old case files. Vl head back in a few mins. -D
It had been a total of sixty fucking minutes since Dean sent that.
Maybe he went after the shifter alone, Sammy. Maybe he didn’t trust you to keep your head.
“Shut up. Shut up!” Sam yells. Breathing heavily, Sam forces his fingers into the cut on his hand, hard enough to draw blood. Feeling less tensed as Lucifer disappears, Sam picks up his jacket and heads out the door, hoping his brother is all right.
~o~
“Shit,” Dean curses under his breath as pain rocks through his body. His head feels like it’s splitting into two. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. He looks around, in the darkness and realizes he’s in a dingy, dirty little bathroom lying haphazardly on the floor. A strong, foul smell assaults his nose making him want to gag and he really hopes it isn’t what he thinks it is.
He tries to sit up and realizes his hands and feet have been tied up. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nah, I wish I was,” says a familiar voice from outside the door.
Dean’s heart rate picks up. He knows that voice. And he also knows that it’s not possible for this person to be topside.
“What the hell?!” Dean exclaims, coughing as he breathes in dust.
“Smart right?” says the voice on the other side. “Gary’s been dead a while. Just look in that bathtub behind you if you ever manage to get up. I tie a mean knot though.”
That explains the smell, Dean thinks. He tries to move against the ropes binding him and sighs. The guy wasn’t lying. They’re definitely tight knots.
“You know, I was highly disappointed when I found out that John Winchester was dead. But then I looked up a couple of things and lo and behold, I had two other Winchesters at my disposal. Two people I could kill, instead of one. And it took me quite a while to track everyone down. I’ve been planning this for years, Dean. And I’m going to enjoy it.”
Dean growls under his breath. “Why the fuck are you doing this?”
A sinister laugh reaches Dean’s ears from the closed (probably locked) bathroom door. “Your father along with those pieces of scum executed my whole family, Dean. I was a kid. With a family. I lost everything in that night. I was a normal kid. Kept my nose clean. Acted human. Even had a dumbass job. Didn’t draw too much attention to myself. I come home to find police tape and police cars around the barn. Sneak in through a loose wooden piece in the back of the barn and see nothing but dead bodies.”
Dean licks his lips. This is getting even more complicated than he’d predicted. “Your family was killing people. Robbing homes, harassing other people in town.”
“I don’t care!” yells the voice.
Dean flinches as he hears a loud thud against the door.
“This town needs a little trouble, Dean,” says the voice, glee in his tone.
Dean shudders hearing the menace and downright insanity lacing the shifter’s tone. He knows there’s no reasoning with the guy.
“This town would have crumbled to dust with dead skeletons in every home if we hadn’t been around to spice it up a bit. Filled with nothing but jealousy. The rich kept to themselves. The poor barely made it by. And the rest just minded their own business. You may think my family was screwed up, Dean. But if you look up the names of people that my family killed, you’ll see we only killed the guilty. People who knew they had something to hide. People who didn’t uphold the law.
“The cops weren’t doing anything, so my family just provided a little community service. And we only robbed the rich. They have too much money on their hands anyway. We needed to get by, didn’t we?”
Dean stays silent, not knowing how to respond. Everything just seems really fucked up right now. His senses turn on high alert, however as the doorbell rings.
“Ok then, Dean. I will come back for you later. At first, I decided I’d take Sam’s form and trick you, kill you first. But after I read his thoughts, shifting into what you guys think is the devil and playing around with Sam seems a lot more fun than strangling him with a wire, to be honest,” says the shifter.
Dean struggles against his bonds desperately. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a hand on him! Sammy!” Dean yells.
“Too late, Dean. And don’t bother yelling. We’re at the farthest corner of the house. He won’t hear you.”
Dean struggles desperately, enough to leave rope burn on his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“SAM!”
~o~
Sam rings the bell for the third time, anxiety creeping up a notch when nobody opens. He tries the door handle and sighs, finding it locked. Taking out his lock pick kit, Sam works fast and soon has the door open.
Sam knows he’s probably walking into a trap, but he’s willing to take the chance if it means he can find Dean. He pulls out a silver knife and slowly walks in. He checks out the living room, kitchen, store cupboard and anything else he can find.
He’s about to head upstairs when his eye spots Dean’s gun on a table near an open door. Frowning, Sam walks up to it. This is definitely Dean’s gun, Sam thinks. He peers in through the open door. He absently puts the gun back onto the table and nudges open the door with his knife.
“Basement,” Sam mutters. Looks like the best place to set a trap, Sam thinks. Wondering how they get themselves into these situations, Sam hurries down the stairs.
His mouth falls open by what he’s met with. He sees large pictures of all the hunters nailed to the wall in front of him, all having large red crosses on their faces. A picture of John lies third in line, the only one without a cross.
Part of Sam wonders how their culprit managed to snag pictures of the hunters.
Newspaper reports of weird killings, coordinates, small parts of maps litter around the photos joined by strings to one another.
Tracking, Sam determines. “He was tracking the hunters.”
“Holy shit,” Sam mutters under his breath. He feels a sense of urgency. This killer is more than prepared. He starts to back up and head for the stairs. As he turns around, a sharp blow to his jaw sends him crashing to the ground, his knife clattering away from him.
He looks up and feels like he’s in his worst nightmare.
“You know, Sam. This is probably the best game I’ve played yet.”
“You’re not real,” Sam chokes as he shakily gets to his feet.
Sam watches in fear as Lucifer mocks him, mouthing Sam’s words. “Sam, I’m perfectly real. Didn’t I say this the best thing I’ve done till date?”
Sam takes a deep breath, taking one step back for every step Lucifer takes forward. Sam jabs his thumb into his scar, breathing fast when Lucifer doesn’t disappear.
“Not working, is it?”
“Not real,” Sam tells himself, as he backs up into the wall he’d previously been looking at.
“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun,” says Lucifer, his tone sinister. He then walks over and picks up Sam’s discarded knife. “Let’s see how well you can fight.”
Without warning, Lucifer strides up to Sam, slashing at his torso. Sam gasps and only barely makes it out of the way. He grunts in pain as the knife managed to cut through his shirt and leave a large shallow cut on his chest.
“Still think I’m not real, Sam?” Lucifer snarls.
Sam’s eyes blur with tears as he desperately tries to dodge Lucifer’s attacks. The devil is relentless as he twirls the blade skillfully and slashes and jabs at every opening he sees. Numerous cuts make themselves known on Sam.
He was out. Dean told him he was out. Dean is real. Lucifer isn’t.
Then why does this pain feel the same, a small part of Sam wonders.
Sam staggers to the opposite side of the room, trying to regain his bearings. He takes a deep breath. “You’re not real. None of this is!”
Sam charges towards Lucifer, catching him off guard. He knocks the knife out of his hand and punches him across the jaw.
“Oh, ho. You shouldn’t have done that, Sam.”
A swift kick to his chest sends Sam sprawling to the floor, wheezing. A torrent of blows rain down on him as Lucifer straddles him, punching every inch he can access.
Sam desperately tries to block them, his resolve wavering. If this is real, then there’s no point fighting. It seems real. Sam can’t differentiate the pain anymore. He can’t make sense of what’s right.
And what hurts him the most is that if this is real, Dean isn’t.
He stops defending himself and lets it happen. He grunts in pain at each blow, for once, wishing it to never stop. This is better than going through the false reality of living with Dean, of mourning Bobby.
He’s had enough. He’s not going to try anymore. He’s still in the cage. He’s still suffering. He knows Dean wouldn’t risk letting Lucifer out again to save him. He understands that and he doesn’t blame Dean at all.
“Dean,” he chokes. He just hopes that wherever Dean is, he’s okay. That he has a normal life.
“Sam!”
“Sammy!”
Sam hears through the fog of pain.
For a second, the punches stop. Sam turns his head painfully towards the stairs as he hears a loud yell of pain, following which Dean crashes down the stairs to lay still at the foot of the stairwell, his gun clattering a few feet away from him.
“Well, well. Look who made it to the party,” says Lucifer.
Sam frowns as Lucifer gets to his feet. He then looks at Sam. “You know what, Sam? I have a better plan. I am gonna kill him. Right in front of you. And then I’ll take care of your sorry ass.”
Sam’s heart rate speeds up. Real or not, that’s Dean. Any form of Dean getting killed is not something Sam would ever care to witness.
“Leave him alone,” Sam croaks, turning onto his side.
He cries out in pain when the heel of Lucifer’s shoes connects with his abdomen. He struggles to breathe against the sharp pain.
“That’s it, Sammy. Don’t move. It’ll only be a second.”
Sam watches in horror as Lucifer walks over to pick up Sam’s blade. He feels helpless as he watches Lucifer walk slowly, tantalizingly towards Dean who still hasn’t woken up.
“No!” Sam says louder. Lucifer has a malicious look on his face as he kneels down right next to Dean.
Sam slumps onto his back, forcing is mind to stay conscious.
Wow. This is a new low for you, Sam. You’re just gonna watch your brother die?
Sam looks towards the voice and frowns seeing Lucifer sitting cross legged near him. He then looks towards the Lucifer walking towards Dean.
I wish this was me, but this isn’t my planning buddy. Though I have to say, that new me over there sure knows how to work you up.
“Isn’t…your…planning?” Sam whispers, struggling to stay conscious against the pain threatening to pull him under. He instinctively presses against his scar and watches the Lucifer sitting next to him vanish.
It then dawns on him. “Not real,” he tells himself.
Dean. Dean is real. Dean is fucking real.
Sam struggles to get to his feet. The fake Lucifer’s back is turned to him. Sam spots Dean’s gun a few feet away from him and crawls to get it. He grits his teeth as pain assaults every inch of him almost making him black out.
His fingers curl around the gun and he pulls it towards him. He forces himself onto his knees and aims the gun, just hoping that it’s filled with silver bullets.
“You’re. Not. Real,” he says, loud enough for fake Lucifer to hear him.
Sam shoots twice as the shifter turns. One at his head and one at its heart.
Sam watches as the shifter jerks as the bullets pierce him and then drops lifelessly to the floor next to Dean.
“Dean,” Sam breathes as the gun slips out of his hands and his eyes roll up into his head, his body too crumpling to the floor.
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