Doppelganger for caranfindel
Title: Doppelganger
Recipient: Caranfindel
Rating: PG13 (bad language)
Word Count: 3707
Warnings: Massive spoilers for Season 13 - so please heed this! Some mentions of previous violence to major character.
Author's Notes: I loved your prompts and really wanted to do prompt one but I decided to go with prompt 2 because this weird idea popped into my head and wouldn’t go away! I really hope it is something you will enjoy and I apologise if it isn’t quite what you had in mind! Also so NOT pro Lucifer so you should enjoy that too!!
He’d done reasonably well before; over three months together and Dean hadn’t questioned, not once. It had been difficult, almost impossible and, eventually, the cracks had started to show. Incidents that made Dean suspicious, the odd little thing here and there and then, after the incident with Veritas, he’d woken up with a broken nose, lacerations and an angel’s hand in his gut. The game, as they say, was up.
Now, impossibly, he found himself standing in the middle of - well - nowhere. A blank empty space that was unrecognisable. He could see the distant glint of light and he could hear muffled moans and grunts but he had no conception of what that meant. He knew he was gone the minute that Death shoved that unwanted soul inside Sammy’s body and he didn’t know why or how he was back.
“This a gift for you,” there was a voice but no sign of anyone nearby, “you can live again, you can enjoy your life with no restraints. All you have to do now is be convincing, be better than before. You can stay on this Earth now but only if you are not found out. I need Sammy far more than Dean does. I’m weak, too weak after that final battle. My enemies think I’m gone but I am not that easy to kill.” A laugh, that to anyone else would be disturbing, frightening even but he just shook his head more confused than ever, his eyes searching, searching for any sign of anyone.
“Who are you?” His voice sounded worn and scratchy to his own ears. “Why am I here?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter - who you are is far more important - from this moment forward you are Sam Winchester so - for fuck’s sake - make it stick this time…
****
Dean yawned; he was exhausted, his body still recovering from being an angel condom. Michael had ridden him hard and he’d wondered if he’d ever be free of the bastard. Thank fuck Sammy and Castiel had come through for him, thank fuck his brother and his best friend had saved him (again). There was still a lot of ground to cover, still evil to hunt and kill, but the angel had gone from his body and he was free and all he wanted was to spend more than a little quality time with his brother.
****
From darkness into light; he wanted to laugh at his clichéd thoughts and he allowed himself to do so. He needed time to practise, to hone his skills. It had been challenging enough last time but if he wanted to live he had to be better. He didn’t waste precious time questioning how he could be here, didn’t waste any energy wondering where Sam might be. He knew that both of them now existed at the same time, knew instinctively that Sammy, the pansy ass one, was still a physical presence - soul and everything - but he didn’t know how that could be. He told himself he didn’t much care but not caring was what had fucked him the first time so care he must and that was something else he’d have to practice else his life, or whatever this was, would be extremely short.
He was outside a motel room; recognisable from all the other dozens of motel rooms he had frequented with Dean in those months before. He could see the Impala clearly, one of the few cars in the lot and already attracting attention from spotty teenage boys who were, no doubt, enamoured by such things. He recalled Dean’s obsessive love for the thing and made a mental note to be much more affectionate towards it…her…yeah so Dean’s car was female. That shouldn’t surprise him and he snorted. Derision was another thing he had to tamp down and this thing was going to be harder than he ever imagined.
****
“Finally,” Dean’s stomach rumbled as his brother stepped through the door carrying coffee and a sweet smelling bag, “starvin’ here Sammy.”
“Sorry,” his brother looked contrite and he handed the bag to Dean with a gentle, dimpled smile, “got held up in the diner.”
“Pretty waitress,” Dean winked, remembering Piper and Sam’s embarrassment and his brother lowered his head and hid behind a curtain of hair.
“No Dean… lots of people wanting their donuts and coffee…just like you.”
Dean grinned and opened the bag with a sigh of delight; outside the sun was beginning to break through the grey clouds and his body didn’t ache as much as it did yesterday so it was going to be a good day.
“We heading back to the bunker?” Sam spoke through a mouth full of donut and Dean noted that there were crumbs on his chin. He looked tired but relaxed and Dean was glad that they seemed to be on the same page again. It had been a fraught few months what with Michael and Lucifer and a rip in the fabric of the universe. Dramatic for some but for the Winchesters just a normal month.
“Yeah - soon - well after breakfast,” he spluttered through a mouthful of donut, “no real hurry at the moment Sammy…no demons on our tails, no monsters to kill.”
“Good times,” Sam was smiling again and Dean felt contentment creep up on him slow and sure, “it’s nice to take a break yeah?”
“Yeah…” Dean sighed and wiped the crumbs on his jeans, “it’s nice to take a break.”
****
Fortunately whoever had bought him back, created him, whatever, had given him the other Sam’s memories. He had a head full of facts and he guessed that whatever had happened had affected both Sam and Dean emotionally. He had to stop himself from being judgemental, from internally sneering. Sentiments, passions, deep feelings, they were alien to him and it was that one simple thing that had tripped him up before. Now he was forewarned, forearmed and he was ready, prepared. He watched as Dean stuffed clothing into his duffle, noted his body language. This Dean was very, very different from the Dean he knew before. This Dean wasn’t carrying so much baggage as before. He was tired and worn but he looked at peace. Perhaps it was because his mom was back, Castiel was back and his brother was safe. Keeping Dean in this frame of mind would probably be difficult but not impossible and he found himself grinning internally. He was here and he was alive and he was determined to keep it that way.
****
He hadn’t seen the bunker last time; it was something that the Winchester’s had found during their involvement with the trials and the discovery that their grandfather didn’t up and leave their dad but had, in reality, come back in time and saved his sons. He sighed as he searched Sam’s memory bank. It was a total mess in here, leviathans’, archangels, tablets, time-travel, British men of letters. Shit - the fucker’s life was beyond complicated and he wondered, randomly, how either of the Winchester’s got up in the morning, wondered how they kept going, kept ‘saving people and hunting things’. There was too much sensation involved, their patterns of thought were foolish, illogical. He wanted to continue to live, liked the feeling of air in his lungs, the sensations flooding through his body, the mouth-watering anticipation of what was to come. He had to work hard not to give himself away; sure that his mysterious benefactor would soon pull the rug from under him if he made Dean suspicious in any way, shape or form…
****
Dean couldn’t remember a time when things had been so good, so straightforward between him and Sam. They weren’t fighting or bitching at each other and they were, for once, on the same fucking wavelength. It was as close to normal as it was possible to be and Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth but…but there was something niggling at him. Something gnawing at the back of his brain, a tiny voice that wouldn’t go away. He should ignore it, should thank Chuck and all of his dick angels that things were as good as they could be but he couldn’t and he didn’t know what to do.
Sam was - well Sam - but he was so damn happy, so damn compliant that it was hard for Dean to process. He asked Cas but the angel didn’t seem to see anything different, he asked his mom but she shook her head and ruffled his hair as if he was a kid and he even asked Jack but he got the same answer every time. As far as his friends and family were concerned Sam was the same as he always was and Dean wondered if Michael’s unwanted possession had lumbered him with a massive case of paranoia.
****
The weeks went by slowly and leisurely and Sam was beginning to relax. He thought he might have nailed it this time; he thought he had finally gotten it right. He made Dean breakfast and made sure it was what he most liked, cooked bacon in grease and turned eggs over easy. He brewed strong black coffee, he went to bars and hustled pool, he avoided giving women the eye even though he was a little frustrated and he bought back beer and donuts whenever he could. Dean seemed to appreciate his attention and care, seemed content to have his brother beside him, both of them working towards the same aim, both of them on the same page. He was succeeding far better than before and he was feeling pleased with himself. He’d been soft and emotional and he’d ignored the fact that it was pointless and illogical. However he’d gotten here didn’t matter anymore…only staying here did and he found himself settling into the role of Sammy in the same way that someone might get comfortable in old familiar slippers or a lax and easy chair.
****
”Why are you doing this?” He peered through the bars of the cage but could see nothing. He could smell though and the scent of rot permeated the entire area making him gag and retch.
“Because I need my true vessel nearby,” the voice wasn’t as strong or as smug as it used to be. It wavered a little, stumbling over words, “I will escape from this one. Find someone to get rid of the warding, find someone to set me free and then, then I will slip into you.”
“I won’t say yes,” it was a feeble, fearful sentence but it was all he had.
“Oh you will…when the time comes…you will.”
“Dean will find me,” he sat back against the hard, hot metal. His whole body ached and he was so fucking hungry he was surprised to still be alive let alone functioning.
“Dean already has you. I gave him the best, most experienced replacement.”
“And if this all comes to pass,” his mouth was dry now and he stared again into the darkness, fear colouring his every move.
“Then I will rid myself of every single version of Sammy and I will rid myself of your brother and the world will be mine. No interference from my elder sibling either thanks to you…”
“This won’t work you know,” the last words of a desperate man.
“But it is working…” came the reply.
****
He hadn’t expected to be slammed against the wall - the blade of the knife hard and sharp at the delicate skin of his neck.
“Christo,” Dean’s voice was tight with anger.
He shifted a little, tried to get some leverage but Dean Winchester was a strong, determined man when he set his heart to it and, despite his height advantage, he couldn’t move.
“Dean…” he made his tone as soft and as light as possible, “it’s me…its Sam.”
“No,” Dean shook his head and his face came closer. Green eyes were narrowed, teeth clenched and the knife dug in deeper, a trickle of blood warm down the skin of his neck, “no you aren’t him…”
“Dean…” he tried again, plaintive, pleading, “Dean.”
“You aren’t him and you are going to tell me who…what you are and where my brother is or I’m going to kill you.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t been sure he was holding and smirked.
“If you kill me you’ll never know.”
A blow to his head was the only reply and darkness came quick as he hit the floor with a thud.
****
Tied up again - guts on fire - Castiel staring at him as if he was something out of everyone’s worse nightmare. (Which he possibly was.)
“He doesn’t have a soul Dean,” and did it sound as if Castiel had sighed? The angel looked more human, more resigned than Sam remembered, “I don’t know how but he doesn’t have a soul.”
“Do you think it is something to do with the Michael thing?” Dean was pacing and it made Sam’s head hurt more than it already did, “what the living fuck?”
“If his soul is missing then it must be back in the cage,” Castiel appeared to be joining Dean in his pacing.
“He’s not…his soul isn’t in the cage,” he was beginning to realise that he had been used. Whatever revived him (and he now had some vague idea who/what that was) was using him and his time on this Earth would be limited.
“Then where is it you bastard,” Dean’s fist was hard against his chin, “all these fucking months and you…where is it?”
“Still in his body,” his head fell forward, pain making him weak, “as far as I am aware…” he lifted his eyes to stare into the angry faces of his brother and the angel, “how did you know?” He has to find that out at least, he did his very best this time, was certain he had it all right, “how the hell did you fucking know?”
“Things were too easy,” Dean’s mouth lifted in a sardonic, ironic smile, “you were too fucking nice.”
And he had no real answer to that.
****
As much as he wanted to Dean couldn’t put a knife in soulless Sam’s heart; the fucker might be lying and he couldn’t risk hurting his brother. However the other Sam insisted that his brother was still alive and still had possession of said soul. It was a puzzle that he needed to solve and quickly.
“What’s powerful enough to do this?” He flung an arm towards the chair where the imposter was still tied, “and for what reason?”
Castiel was frowning and it made Dean’s whole body itch, tense and on edge. He almost knew what the angel was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“An archangel or God but we both know that God isn’t here,” Castiel’s frown deepened, “and all of the archangels are dead.”
“Are they?”
“Dean I believe that this may be the work of Lucifer.”
“I fucking killed him,” Dean knew it, he knew it but didn’t want to admit it, “I let that bastard in and we killed him.”
“The both of us know how hard it is to see Lucifer die,” Castiel’s eyes were sympathetic and he put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “before you fought him he took Jack’s grace. Who knows what affect that had on him.”
“Why would he do this?” He gestured to Sam again, “it makes no sense.”
“Your brother is Lucifer’s true vessel just as you were Michaels. Lucifer must need Sam for a reason…”
“If he has Sam somewhere…” and he didn’t want to form the words cage, “he won’t say yes…he won’t ever say yes.”
“Regardless of this I believe Crowley sealed Lucifer in his old vessel and he cannot ‘smoke out’ as you call it. Therefore he must be seeking someone who can reverse what Crowley did and then hope he can force your brother to concede.”
“Why him?” He stared over at Sam again. The other man smirked, shook his head.
“If you knew your brother was missing then you would move heaven and earth to find him. If he was here with you why would you even concern yourself? This ‘thing’ he knows you, he spent months with you and he has been able to fool you for a long period of time…”
“Apparently,” soulless Sam spoke for the first time, “I was too good.”
“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” Dean stalked towards the chair, fingers reaching for the knife in his belt.
“We don’t know if this is Sam’s body or not Dean,” Castiel shook his head, “we can’t risk it until we know.”
“Then I guess we are going to hell - again.”
“Yes,” the sigh in Castiel’s voice was back, “we are going to hell…”
****
He knew Billie didn’t owe them anything but he managed to persuade her to take him down again. Rowena wasn’t particularly enamoured with the idea but she desperately wanted Lucifer out of the picture (again) and so agreed to accompany them. She watched Sam’s soulless doppelganger with some trepidation, eyes narrowing.
“How can you tell?” She asked Dean.
“Last time it was easy…” there was the taste of guilt in his mouth, “this time not so much.”
“Apparently I was too good,” speckled hazel eyes glinted and she saw lust which was certainly something she had never seen in the real Sam’s eyes.
“Let’s just get this done,” Dean wanted it over with but more than that he needed to see his brother, his Sam, alive and in one piece.
“And after?” Soulless Sam’s face was blank, eyes on Dean, already knowing the answer.
“I hope I never have to deal with you again…”
****
He could smell the decay; stench much stronger now and he wondered what would happen if Lucifer (and he knew who it was - he guessed he’d always known but had preferred denial) died (was that even possible?) He would be trapped here forever but his body this time not just his tortured soul. The only comfort he could take from this is that he would soon die himself. He shuddered; Dean might never know, might be fooled by the replacement the devil had sent, might spend the rest of his life with some fake Sam beside him. He wasn’t sure if that consoled him or not and he put his head in his hands and let the tears come.
****
The thing before them was scarcely human; skin falling from bones that were already cracked. Arms and legs sprawled akimbo, eyes sightless, blood and other fluids seeping from open pores. The stink was almost unbearable and Dean felt bile in his throat, his mouth dry. Whatever was left of Lucifer barely functioned anymore, only the sheer will to exist keeping life within. Castiel stared in horror at the putrid mass of flesh and Rowena openly gagged, a delicate hand covering her trembling mouth.
“Sammy…”
Dean only had one thing in mind and he pushed soulless Sam in front of him as he moved quickly towards the fading bars of the cage, the metal already rotting away with the thing that slumped beside it.
“Dean…” his brother, his real brother, moved out of the shadows and into the flickering light. He was thin, he was dirty and a matted beard made him almost unrecognisable. He sounded astonished but the look in his eyes told Dean that, deep down, he always hoped his big brother would come.
In the end it wasn’t as dramatic or as damaging as the first time; weakened - even with Jack’s grace inside of him - Lucifer was locked back inside the cage and Sam was, finally, on the other side of the bars. He leaned against his brother and stared at his double, the first time he had seen it outside of his own psyche. Soulless Sam stared back but it was clear that his essence was already fading, swept away with the last vestiges of Lucifer’s powers.
****
Sam could feel himself waning; he had failed again despite all of his best efforts. Perhaps something had stayed with him this time, some trace of humanity. He could feel them inside of him, emotions, regret, sadness and fear. He found himself wishing he would have done a better job but, in reality, he was just a placeholder, a fill in until Lucifer had taken his vessel and walked free. Now he was disappearing from existence and he had no conception of where he would go. He hadn’t asked for this but he had taken it and embraced it and now his second chance of life was gone…
****
His brother was worn thin and dirty; Dean knew that it was gonna take more than a shower and a shave to make Sam feel better again. He did his best though and so did Cas and Jack. Plenty of sleep and movie nights with popcorn and candy, visits to the library and letting Sam go out for a run without trying to follow him to make sure he got home safely.
A month in and Sam was bitching about the grease that collected around his breakfast bacon, swapping up beer for raspberry smoothies and eating salad shakes like they were going out of fashion. They started, methodically, looking for hunts again and normality (or what passes for it in Winchester world) began to return.
“How did you guess?” Sam asked one day, voice soft and eyes pleading. “How did you know it wasn’t me?”
Dean couldn’t help laughing, he shook his head and looked for an answer not wanting to tell Sammy that - hey - his doppelganger was way too perfect.
“I just know you too well Sammy,” is what he settled for and Sam was so fucking grateful he accepted it with a genuine grin, dimples and everything. Dean never wanted to do that again and he pulled his brother into a hug ignoring Sam’s feeble protests and snark about cuddling. “I just know you too well…”
Fin
Recipient: Caranfindel
Rating: PG13 (bad language)
Word Count: 3707
Warnings: Massive spoilers for Season 13 - so please heed this! Some mentions of previous violence to major character.
Author's Notes: I loved your prompts and really wanted to do prompt one but I decided to go with prompt 2 because this weird idea popped into my head and wouldn’t go away! I really hope it is something you will enjoy and I apologise if it isn’t quite what you had in mind! Also so NOT pro Lucifer so you should enjoy that too!!
He’d done reasonably well before; over three months together and Dean hadn’t questioned, not once. It had been difficult, almost impossible and, eventually, the cracks had started to show. Incidents that made Dean suspicious, the odd little thing here and there and then, after the incident with Veritas, he’d woken up with a broken nose, lacerations and an angel’s hand in his gut. The game, as they say, was up.
Now, impossibly, he found himself standing in the middle of - well - nowhere. A blank empty space that was unrecognisable. He could see the distant glint of light and he could hear muffled moans and grunts but he had no conception of what that meant. He knew he was gone the minute that Death shoved that unwanted soul inside Sammy’s body and he didn’t know why or how he was back.
“This a gift for you,” there was a voice but no sign of anyone nearby, “you can live again, you can enjoy your life with no restraints. All you have to do now is be convincing, be better than before. You can stay on this Earth now but only if you are not found out. I need Sammy far more than Dean does. I’m weak, too weak after that final battle. My enemies think I’m gone but I am not that easy to kill.” A laugh, that to anyone else would be disturbing, frightening even but he just shook his head more confused than ever, his eyes searching, searching for any sign of anyone.
“Who are you?” His voice sounded worn and scratchy to his own ears. “Why am I here?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter - who you are is far more important - from this moment forward you are Sam Winchester so - for fuck’s sake - make it stick this time…
****
Dean yawned; he was exhausted, his body still recovering from being an angel condom. Michael had ridden him hard and he’d wondered if he’d ever be free of the bastard. Thank fuck Sammy and Castiel had come through for him, thank fuck his brother and his best friend had saved him (again). There was still a lot of ground to cover, still evil to hunt and kill, but the angel had gone from his body and he was free and all he wanted was to spend more than a little quality time with his brother.
****
From darkness into light; he wanted to laugh at his clichéd thoughts and he allowed himself to do so. He needed time to practise, to hone his skills. It had been challenging enough last time but if he wanted to live he had to be better. He didn’t waste precious time questioning how he could be here, didn’t waste any energy wondering where Sam might be. He knew that both of them now existed at the same time, knew instinctively that Sammy, the pansy ass one, was still a physical presence - soul and everything - but he didn’t know how that could be. He told himself he didn’t much care but not caring was what had fucked him the first time so care he must and that was something else he’d have to practice else his life, or whatever this was, would be extremely short.
He was outside a motel room; recognisable from all the other dozens of motel rooms he had frequented with Dean in those months before. He could see the Impala clearly, one of the few cars in the lot and already attracting attention from spotty teenage boys who were, no doubt, enamoured by such things. He recalled Dean’s obsessive love for the thing and made a mental note to be much more affectionate towards it…her…yeah so Dean’s car was female. That shouldn’t surprise him and he snorted. Derision was another thing he had to tamp down and this thing was going to be harder than he ever imagined.
****
“Finally,” Dean’s stomach rumbled as his brother stepped through the door carrying coffee and a sweet smelling bag, “starvin’ here Sammy.”
“Sorry,” his brother looked contrite and he handed the bag to Dean with a gentle, dimpled smile, “got held up in the diner.”
“Pretty waitress,” Dean winked, remembering Piper and Sam’s embarrassment and his brother lowered his head and hid behind a curtain of hair.
“No Dean… lots of people wanting their donuts and coffee…just like you.”
Dean grinned and opened the bag with a sigh of delight; outside the sun was beginning to break through the grey clouds and his body didn’t ache as much as it did yesterday so it was going to be a good day.
“We heading back to the bunker?” Sam spoke through a mouth full of donut and Dean noted that there were crumbs on his chin. He looked tired but relaxed and Dean was glad that they seemed to be on the same page again. It had been a fraught few months what with Michael and Lucifer and a rip in the fabric of the universe. Dramatic for some but for the Winchesters just a normal month.
“Yeah - soon - well after breakfast,” he spluttered through a mouthful of donut, “no real hurry at the moment Sammy…no demons on our tails, no monsters to kill.”
“Good times,” Sam was smiling again and Dean felt contentment creep up on him slow and sure, “it’s nice to take a break yeah?”
“Yeah…” Dean sighed and wiped the crumbs on his jeans, “it’s nice to take a break.”
****
Fortunately whoever had bought him back, created him, whatever, had given him the other Sam’s memories. He had a head full of facts and he guessed that whatever had happened had affected both Sam and Dean emotionally. He had to stop himself from being judgemental, from internally sneering. Sentiments, passions, deep feelings, they were alien to him and it was that one simple thing that had tripped him up before. Now he was forewarned, forearmed and he was ready, prepared. He watched as Dean stuffed clothing into his duffle, noted his body language. This Dean was very, very different from the Dean he knew before. This Dean wasn’t carrying so much baggage as before. He was tired and worn but he looked at peace. Perhaps it was because his mom was back, Castiel was back and his brother was safe. Keeping Dean in this frame of mind would probably be difficult but not impossible and he found himself grinning internally. He was here and he was alive and he was determined to keep it that way.
****
He hadn’t seen the bunker last time; it was something that the Winchester’s had found during their involvement with the trials and the discovery that their grandfather didn’t up and leave their dad but had, in reality, come back in time and saved his sons. He sighed as he searched Sam’s memory bank. It was a total mess in here, leviathans’, archangels, tablets, time-travel, British men of letters. Shit - the fucker’s life was beyond complicated and he wondered, randomly, how either of the Winchester’s got up in the morning, wondered how they kept going, kept ‘saving people and hunting things’. There was too much sensation involved, their patterns of thought were foolish, illogical. He wanted to continue to live, liked the feeling of air in his lungs, the sensations flooding through his body, the mouth-watering anticipation of what was to come. He had to work hard not to give himself away; sure that his mysterious benefactor would soon pull the rug from under him if he made Dean suspicious in any way, shape or form…
****
Dean couldn’t remember a time when things had been so good, so straightforward between him and Sam. They weren’t fighting or bitching at each other and they were, for once, on the same fucking wavelength. It was as close to normal as it was possible to be and Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth but…but there was something niggling at him. Something gnawing at the back of his brain, a tiny voice that wouldn’t go away. He should ignore it, should thank Chuck and all of his dick angels that things were as good as they could be but he couldn’t and he didn’t know what to do.
Sam was - well Sam - but he was so damn happy, so damn compliant that it was hard for Dean to process. He asked Cas but the angel didn’t seem to see anything different, he asked his mom but she shook her head and ruffled his hair as if he was a kid and he even asked Jack but he got the same answer every time. As far as his friends and family were concerned Sam was the same as he always was and Dean wondered if Michael’s unwanted possession had lumbered him with a massive case of paranoia.
****
The weeks went by slowly and leisurely and Sam was beginning to relax. He thought he might have nailed it this time; he thought he had finally gotten it right. He made Dean breakfast and made sure it was what he most liked, cooked bacon in grease and turned eggs over easy. He brewed strong black coffee, he went to bars and hustled pool, he avoided giving women the eye even though he was a little frustrated and he bought back beer and donuts whenever he could. Dean seemed to appreciate his attention and care, seemed content to have his brother beside him, both of them working towards the same aim, both of them on the same page. He was succeeding far better than before and he was feeling pleased with himself. He’d been soft and emotional and he’d ignored the fact that it was pointless and illogical. However he’d gotten here didn’t matter anymore…only staying here did and he found himself settling into the role of Sammy in the same way that someone might get comfortable in old familiar slippers or a lax and easy chair.
****
”Why are you doing this?” He peered through the bars of the cage but could see nothing. He could smell though and the scent of rot permeated the entire area making him gag and retch.
“Because I need my true vessel nearby,” the voice wasn’t as strong or as smug as it used to be. It wavered a little, stumbling over words, “I will escape from this one. Find someone to get rid of the warding, find someone to set me free and then, then I will slip into you.”
“I won’t say yes,” it was a feeble, fearful sentence but it was all he had.
“Oh you will…when the time comes…you will.”
“Dean will find me,” he sat back against the hard, hot metal. His whole body ached and he was so fucking hungry he was surprised to still be alive let alone functioning.
“Dean already has you. I gave him the best, most experienced replacement.”
“And if this all comes to pass,” his mouth was dry now and he stared again into the darkness, fear colouring his every move.
“Then I will rid myself of every single version of Sammy and I will rid myself of your brother and the world will be mine. No interference from my elder sibling either thanks to you…”
“This won’t work you know,” the last words of a desperate man.
“But it is working…” came the reply.
****
He hadn’t expected to be slammed against the wall - the blade of the knife hard and sharp at the delicate skin of his neck.
“Christo,” Dean’s voice was tight with anger.
He shifted a little, tried to get some leverage but Dean Winchester was a strong, determined man when he set his heart to it and, despite his height advantage, he couldn’t move.
“Dean…” he made his tone as soft and as light as possible, “it’s me…its Sam.”
“No,” Dean shook his head and his face came closer. Green eyes were narrowed, teeth clenched and the knife dug in deeper, a trickle of blood warm down the skin of his neck, “no you aren’t him…”
“Dean…” he tried again, plaintive, pleading, “Dean.”
“You aren’t him and you are going to tell me who…what you are and where my brother is or I’m going to kill you.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t been sure he was holding and smirked.
“If you kill me you’ll never know.”
A blow to his head was the only reply and darkness came quick as he hit the floor with a thud.
****
Tied up again - guts on fire - Castiel staring at him as if he was something out of everyone’s worse nightmare. (Which he possibly was.)
“He doesn’t have a soul Dean,” and did it sound as if Castiel had sighed? The angel looked more human, more resigned than Sam remembered, “I don’t know how but he doesn’t have a soul.”
“Do you think it is something to do with the Michael thing?” Dean was pacing and it made Sam’s head hurt more than it already did, “what the living fuck?”
“If his soul is missing then it must be back in the cage,” Castiel appeared to be joining Dean in his pacing.
“He’s not…his soul isn’t in the cage,” he was beginning to realise that he had been used. Whatever revived him (and he now had some vague idea who/what that was) was using him and his time on this Earth would be limited.
“Then where is it you bastard,” Dean’s fist was hard against his chin, “all these fucking months and you…where is it?”
“Still in his body,” his head fell forward, pain making him weak, “as far as I am aware…” he lifted his eyes to stare into the angry faces of his brother and the angel, “how did you know?” He has to find that out at least, he did his very best this time, was certain he had it all right, “how the hell did you fucking know?”
“Things were too easy,” Dean’s mouth lifted in a sardonic, ironic smile, “you were too fucking nice.”
And he had no real answer to that.
****
As much as he wanted to Dean couldn’t put a knife in soulless Sam’s heart; the fucker might be lying and he couldn’t risk hurting his brother. However the other Sam insisted that his brother was still alive and still had possession of said soul. It was a puzzle that he needed to solve and quickly.
“What’s powerful enough to do this?” He flung an arm towards the chair where the imposter was still tied, “and for what reason?”
Castiel was frowning and it made Dean’s whole body itch, tense and on edge. He almost knew what the angel was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“An archangel or God but we both know that God isn’t here,” Castiel’s frown deepened, “and all of the archangels are dead.”
“Are they?”
“Dean I believe that this may be the work of Lucifer.”
“I fucking killed him,” Dean knew it, he knew it but didn’t want to admit it, “I let that bastard in and we killed him.”
“The both of us know how hard it is to see Lucifer die,” Castiel’s eyes were sympathetic and he put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “before you fought him he took Jack’s grace. Who knows what affect that had on him.”
“Why would he do this?” He gestured to Sam again, “it makes no sense.”
“Your brother is Lucifer’s true vessel just as you were Michaels. Lucifer must need Sam for a reason…”
“If he has Sam somewhere…” and he didn’t want to form the words cage, “he won’t say yes…he won’t ever say yes.”
“Regardless of this I believe Crowley sealed Lucifer in his old vessel and he cannot ‘smoke out’ as you call it. Therefore he must be seeking someone who can reverse what Crowley did and then hope he can force your brother to concede.”
“Why him?” He stared over at Sam again. The other man smirked, shook his head.
“If you knew your brother was missing then you would move heaven and earth to find him. If he was here with you why would you even concern yourself? This ‘thing’ he knows you, he spent months with you and he has been able to fool you for a long period of time…”
“Apparently,” soulless Sam spoke for the first time, “I was too good.”
“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t kill you.” Dean stalked towards the chair, fingers reaching for the knife in his belt.
“We don’t know if this is Sam’s body or not Dean,” Castiel shook his head, “we can’t risk it until we know.”
“Then I guess we are going to hell - again.”
“Yes,” the sigh in Castiel’s voice was back, “we are going to hell…”
****
He knew Billie didn’t owe them anything but he managed to persuade her to take him down again. Rowena wasn’t particularly enamoured with the idea but she desperately wanted Lucifer out of the picture (again) and so agreed to accompany them. She watched Sam’s soulless doppelganger with some trepidation, eyes narrowing.
“How can you tell?” She asked Dean.
“Last time it was easy…” there was the taste of guilt in his mouth, “this time not so much.”
“Apparently I was too good,” speckled hazel eyes glinted and she saw lust which was certainly something she had never seen in the real Sam’s eyes.
“Let’s just get this done,” Dean wanted it over with but more than that he needed to see his brother, his Sam, alive and in one piece.
“And after?” Soulless Sam’s face was blank, eyes on Dean, already knowing the answer.
“I hope I never have to deal with you again…”
****
He could smell the decay; stench much stronger now and he wondered what would happen if Lucifer (and he knew who it was - he guessed he’d always known but had preferred denial) died (was that even possible?) He would be trapped here forever but his body this time not just his tortured soul. The only comfort he could take from this is that he would soon die himself. He shuddered; Dean might never know, might be fooled by the replacement the devil had sent, might spend the rest of his life with some fake Sam beside him. He wasn’t sure if that consoled him or not and he put his head in his hands and let the tears come.
****
The thing before them was scarcely human; skin falling from bones that were already cracked. Arms and legs sprawled akimbo, eyes sightless, blood and other fluids seeping from open pores. The stink was almost unbearable and Dean felt bile in his throat, his mouth dry. Whatever was left of Lucifer barely functioned anymore, only the sheer will to exist keeping life within. Castiel stared in horror at the putrid mass of flesh and Rowena openly gagged, a delicate hand covering her trembling mouth.
“Sammy…”
Dean only had one thing in mind and he pushed soulless Sam in front of him as he moved quickly towards the fading bars of the cage, the metal already rotting away with the thing that slumped beside it.
“Dean…” his brother, his real brother, moved out of the shadows and into the flickering light. He was thin, he was dirty and a matted beard made him almost unrecognisable. He sounded astonished but the look in his eyes told Dean that, deep down, he always hoped his big brother would come.
In the end it wasn’t as dramatic or as damaging as the first time; weakened - even with Jack’s grace inside of him - Lucifer was locked back inside the cage and Sam was, finally, on the other side of the bars. He leaned against his brother and stared at his double, the first time he had seen it outside of his own psyche. Soulless Sam stared back but it was clear that his essence was already fading, swept away with the last vestiges of Lucifer’s powers.
****
Sam could feel himself waning; he had failed again despite all of his best efforts. Perhaps something had stayed with him this time, some trace of humanity. He could feel them inside of him, emotions, regret, sadness and fear. He found himself wishing he would have done a better job but, in reality, he was just a placeholder, a fill in until Lucifer had taken his vessel and walked free. Now he was disappearing from existence and he had no conception of where he would go. He hadn’t asked for this but he had taken it and embraced it and now his second chance of life was gone…
****
His brother was worn thin and dirty; Dean knew that it was gonna take more than a shower and a shave to make Sam feel better again. He did his best though and so did Cas and Jack. Plenty of sleep and movie nights with popcorn and candy, visits to the library and letting Sam go out for a run without trying to follow him to make sure he got home safely.
A month in and Sam was bitching about the grease that collected around his breakfast bacon, swapping up beer for raspberry smoothies and eating salad shakes like they were going out of fashion. They started, methodically, looking for hunts again and normality (or what passes for it in Winchester world) began to return.
“How did you guess?” Sam asked one day, voice soft and eyes pleading. “How did you know it wasn’t me?”
Dean couldn’t help laughing, he shook his head and looked for an answer not wanting to tell Sammy that - hey - his doppelganger was way too perfect.
“I just know you too well Sammy,” is what he settled for and Sam was so fucking grateful he accepted it with a genuine grin, dimples and everything. Dean never wanted to do that again and he pulled his brother into a hug ignoring Sam’s feeble protests and snark about cuddling. “I just know you too well…”
Fin