Fic: The Road Goes Ever On and On 3/3
So tired.
Sam's stiff muscles ached against the hard floor, but the discomfort wasn't enough for him to want to pull himself from sleep. He shifted painfully, closing his eyes tighter in hopes that he could just get some rest. A persistent voice was cutting through the haze, and he twitched, wanting to tell the voice to go away, leave me alone and can't you see I'm exhausted, but it just kept calling out his name.
"Sam?"
"Whatsamatter," he slurred weakly, trying to focus on the question.
"Oh my God, you ... thank God! Please, can you stand up? Sam, right? Sam?" The voice was a woman's voice, and she sounded scared, and when Sam opened his eyes to regard the cold hard floor beneath him, he suddenly remembered where he was and why.
He sat up too quickly, spinning towards the woman in the center of the devil's trap. Her wrists bled from pulling at the ropes. Her hair was limp with sweat, and her cheeks held the residue of tears, but her eyes were bright and clear as she pinned him with her gaze. He swayed, catching himself on his hands and knees. He climbed shakily to his feet, stumbling over to the trap and the woman stuck inside.
She waited patiently as he fumbled for his knife and began carefully cutting the ropes that held her. "The demon ... it's ... dead, right? I killed it?" He asked.
Sam could see she was terrified, but it wasn't directed at him. He remembered how he felt after his own experience. He winced, softened his voice, and looked her in the eyes. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and he gave her an encouraging smile. His mind was working overtime. How did I kill it? What happened to me? Suddenly he noticed that something seemed to be missing. His blood froze. Where's Dean?
"It's dead." The girl was saying, "But Sam, there's something else here," she whispered, eyes casting around the room as though she was afraid it would come back. Sam just waited. "A man, a ... I don't know what he was, he looked ..." Her eyes met Sam's, and they were full of apology. It was clear that she didn't think he was going to believe her. "He looked dead." She pulled her wrists loose and carefully inspected the chaffed skin.
All of Sam’s tact vanished. He knelt at the base of the chair and grabbed the chair’s arms in his hands, crowding the woman, diverting her attention to him and him alone.
"You saw him? You saw my brother?" Her eyes widened in horror, and she froze, caught in his gaze. Her lips moved slightly, forming an oh shape, but she said nothing, just stared deep into his eyes. Recognition dawned across her face. “Did he speak to you? Where is he now, do you still see him?” Sam demanded.
She reached out then, resting her fingers gently on the curve of Sam’s cheekbone, the first signs of tears gleaming in her eyes. "He was your brother? Oh, Sam ... I ..." Saddened and spent, she dropped her head into her hands and began to cry.
Sam stared. Obviously the day’s events had been too much for her. He sighed. “Shhh, it’s ok, I’m gonna get you out of here, come on.” He reached for her gently, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. Sam lifted her easily from the chair and into his arms, surprised to feel his strength was quickly returning. “What’s your name?” He asked.
“Claire.” She whispered. Sam’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. The last Claire he’d met had been a death omen. Claire’s tears seemed to be slowing now, but she kept her head buried firmly into the crook of his neck, not wanting to ‘see’ anything else. “What happened to him?” He thought he’d imagined the soft question until she repeated it again a little more firmly. “Sam? What happened to him? Your … brother, I mean.”
Details of their lives and of the horrors they’d lived through flooded Sam’s mind. Demons and ghosts and monsters, the feel of desperation, love and loss, but he settled for the simple answer - the ultimate truth of what had happened was the easiest way to explain.
“He saved my life,” He said. “He took my place.” Shifting Claire in his arms, he reached for the door of the warehouse and pushed it open. Bright afternoon sun surrounded them, and he squinted against the glare.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, Sam,” She choked back fresh tears. “I’m so sorry.” He tilted his face to meet her gaze, surprised at the sympathy he saw there. She reached for him, gently wiping away a single tear from his cheek. He blinked. He hadn’t realized he was crying.
“Thank you.” he whispered. And then, because it seemed important, he added, “His name is Dean.” Claire nodded, settling back into Sam’s embrace. She seemed to understand.
“Well, tell him I said thank you.” She said. Sam’s lips brushed against the soft fall of her hair as he smiled. Even in death, it seemed, Dean could still work the Winchester charm.
The evening warmth seeped slowly into his skin, dulling the chilled feeling in his soul. There was a slight flutter as the power flared back to life. Slowly, his senses began to expand once more, inner strength recharging along with the rest of his body.
Flashes of images from Claire’s mind flickered across his inner sight. Dean. Kneeling over him, watching him. Worried enough about him to manifest physically. Comforting Claire. Looking … Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. Flickering and vanishing.
Sam was suddenly finding it very hard not to panic. Grasping the available current, he sent it reaching out in every direction, mentally shouting his brother’s name. Dean!
Sam was living on two planes as he carefully set Claire into the car. “Let’s get you to a hospital, ok?” She nodded and settled quietly into the leather.
Cats in the alley behind the warehouse. Rats in the rafters. Garbage man walking slowly across the street. Claire in the car. Dean? Birds, office workers, people driving home, rush hour traffic … there. A warm spot, a faintly shining presence. The outpour shifted, surrounding the presence, drew it close. Dean! Are you alright? Can you hear me?
Sam? You ok?
Dean was weak, but the light of his spirit was steady. Dean! What happened?
… I think we need to rethink this plan of yours. Are you ok?
Sam’s shoulders sagged with intense relief. He centered Dean firmly inside the glowing current, anchoring him. I’m fine now. Just rest. I need to get Claire to a hospital. Firm agreement buoyed his senses, gave him strength of purpose. Wearily he climbed into the Impala, put the key in the ignition, pressed the gas, and got the hell out of there without looking back.
~*~
The purr of the Impala’s engine soothed his tired nerves as Sam guided her smoothly back to Bobby’s. Claire was safely at the hospital. She’d kept him largely out of their explanation to the police, saying only that he’d saved her life, and with a thankful look in her direction, he had taken his leave.
One problem solved, one million problems to go. “But I did kill it,” he said. “I felt it rip apart.”
Yeah, but Sam - this demon was a small fry. Nowhere near as strong as Lilith. If you go up against her like that, it would kill you.
“So I’ll get more practice. Grow the power stronger.”
Sam, no.
“Dean, I’m doing this.” Dean was adamant, but as much as Dean could be stubborn, Sam was determined to win this argument.
Sam, I mean it. No. I’m not losing you again. I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.
Sam snorted. He knew the feeling. “Then I’ll just have to use it a different way, some way that doesn’t use up all my energy at once. Learn what my limits are, and then work on those areas until I get stronger.” Sam shook his head. “Besides, don’t talk to me about being reckless. What were you thinking, manifesting like that? You could have …” Sam stopped short, not wanting to finish that particular thought. Dean as a ghost was fixable. Dean in Hell was fixable. Dean being … nonexistent, well - that, Sam didn’t know how to fix. Dean’s weariness seeped into Sam’s soul, threatened to drag him under.
I know. I didn’t … I’m sorry.
Sam shook his head. “It’s ok, man, just - be careful.” Rehashing their mistakes wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Ok - maybe, what if I just work on the mind control? If I can pin Lilith down, then I can just kill her with the knife if I have to. That way …” That way an innocent person dies. Sam pushed the thought away. It was like Bobby had said; Killing Lilith was about a lot more than just saving Dean. If Sam could find a way to kill her without hurting anyone else, then he would.
And if he couldn’t … well, he’d just have to live with it. Dean’s hesitant agreement surrounded him.
So how do psychics eat their wheaties?
Sam really didn’t know. “Man, I think we need help.”
Back to Bobby’s, then.
“So we can tell him now?” Sam asked hopefully.
Yeah. I think it’s time.
“Ok.” Sam was relieved more than he was willing to let on.
One problem solved, one million problems to go. Lost in thought, Sam almost didn’t catch the sudden shift in Dean’s emotions.
So that girl - she liked you.
Sam gaped. “Are you serious?”
Yeah, I am. You should look her up sometime. She seemed pretty tough. Like, maybe she could handle the whole psychic wonder thing you’ve got going on.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Sam laughed. “Don’t you think we have more important things to worry about besides getting me laid?”
I know, just -
Sam felt Dean’s concern as strongly as if he’d seen it in his brother’s eyes. Oh.
“Dean, I’m not lonely. I’ve still got you.” He said quietly.
Whatever you say, Sam.
Sam opened up the Impala, urging her down the road. Things had never been so different in his life as they were now, but really, driving down the road with his brother in the passenger seat, heading to Bobby’s to ask for help, getting ready for the hunt of his life - maybe things were actually the same.
Part three - Into The West