Fic: Into The West 2/3
Sam had been dreaming again, he was pretty sure of it. From the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, it probably hadn’t been the best dream ever. Screaming. Sam wiped the sleep from his eyes and pushed back the dingy motel comforter. Tearing flesh. He shook his head to clear his early morning cobwebs. The sharp, copper smell of blood. “Stop it.” Sam whispered, pushing the memories down deep.
Sam checked the clock. 7:00 AM. He’d overslept, but the whole point of checking in here had been to get some rest anyway, and he had paid for an extra day so he wouldn’t be bothered. He’d practically run the Impala off the road before Dean had managed to convince him to get some sleep. He found himself automatically looking to the other bed - he still couldn’t quite bring himself to get a single - and swallowed hard.
Morning sunshine.
“Hey.” There was a pressure behind Sam’s eyes that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the fact that he’d just woken up. He rubbed his forehead distractedly. Dean’s impatience thrummed underneath his skin like an idling motor, setting all of his nerves on edge.
Thought you were gonna sleep forever. C’mon, let’s hit the road. I wanna get this over with.
“Alright.”Sam agreed. He hadn’t unpacked much, just his toothbrush and a change of clothes, and it didn’t take long for him to clear the room. He splashed water over his face in an effort to clear his head. Without warning, the power inside him surged suddenly, angry waves cresting over him. Sam gasped and gripped the peeling linoleum countertop in an effort to ground himself. He struggled to hold the power down. He felt slight pressure on his shoulder, sensed Dean looking him over.
Feel ok?
“Yeah, I just …” Sam lost his tenuous grip. The vision slammed into him with all the fury of a tidal wave. Flash after flash of pictures half developed played across his sight, each image cresting the rise until one by one they blurred together.
The dizzying rush of images stopped abruptly, and Sam saw a man in a three piece suit. He moved smoothly but directly, as if he was on his way to an important meeting. Sam blinked, and his vision changed. The man faded to the background and Sam was left looking inside. A dark stain, black as pitch and twice as foul, covered the man’s barely living soul. “No, no no no …” The protest flowed from his lips unbidden as Sam tried to reign the current in.
Sam?
Sam focused on his brother’s presence, on the feel of Dean calling his name. He concentrated on breathing, tried to see what was right in front of his face, to pull himself back into the present before …
Too late.
Sam watched in horror as the demon stopped walking, turned to regard the empty street, and smiled.
It had felt his presence. It knew where he was.
SAM!
The connection snapped. Sam fell weakly to the floor, fine tremors running through his hands. He had no idea how long the little exchange had lasted.
“Demon,” He rasped out.
Where?
“Coming. Here. Now.”
We gotta get you out of here.
“No time.” Sam replied. He lunged for his duffel and grabbed out the salt, quickly laying a semi circle across the base of the door and lining the windowsill. Initial moment of panic over, he stared blankly at the door, wondering what he was going to do when the demon arrived.
He was mainly just hoping it would arrive alone.
The hell, Sam? Mind tellin’ me what just happened?
Sam cringed. He thought maybe he knew, but he certainly didn’t want to tell Dean. “I don’t know.”
I call bullshit.
“I don’t know, Dean, alright?”
Fine. What do we do? Is it alone? What if it calls in its buddies?
Sam weighed his options. They could run and hope the demon didn’t catch them, but it was close, and getting closer by the second. As far as he could tell, it was alone. He couldn’t risk it calling in reinforcements. He needed to take it out.
The boiling reservoir inside liked that idea.
Sam grabbed Ruby’s knife - his knife - from its resting place on the bedside table and headed for the door.
Where are you going?
“Hunting,” he replied. He opened the door slowly, careful to not disturb the salt.
Sam, don’t.
He paused briefly, shuddering at the feel of the demon on his inner radar. His senses tingled with fire that begged to be set loose. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But enough is enough.”
When he closed the door, he tried to pretend like he couldn’t feel Dean screaming his name.
~*~
The early morning rays of the sun filtered through white clouds, falling in bright beams around the motel parking lot. Everything was in vivid focus as Sam waited; the smell of recently fallen rain, the sounds of chirping birds, and the rumble of cars passing by all blended together to form a single snapshot impression of his surroundings.
The struggling, stained presence of the possessed man was drawing nearer.
Sam, don’t. Don’t.
Dean was close to panic, and with a twinge of regret Sam found himself wishing he’d lined the whole room with salt instead of just the doorway. “I got it.” He snapped, casting for a location on the demon.
How do you -
“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe.”
Sam snorted. “Not for long.” The dark reservoir was already responding, answering Sam’s call.
Sammy, wait!
Dean’s call was drowned out in the roar of the surge. Sam wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t going to expend his energy ripping this demon apart like he had the last one.
He was just going to blow it away.
With a surge of hate so intense in left Sam gasping for air, the killing power rushed outwards. It hit the demon instantly, and there was barely time for the monster to utter a scream before it ceased to exist forever.
The freed man blinked heavily, looking around the parking lot like he didn’t know where he was. Sam could feel Dean’s stunned disbelief as his brother swept Sam’s mental state through the link and found him healthy. “I’m ok, Dean. I’m ok.” Breathing heavily but otherwise feeling fine, Sam headed over to the bewildered man.
The angry heat of power settled back down, restless, disappointed. One demon wasn’t enough. Sam ignored the feeling. He had damage control to do.
~*~
Sam stalked back into the motel room, desperate to just pack up and go. The door slammed hard behind him, and he jumped in spite of himself. Figures Dean would pick now to learn how to go all Patrick Swayze on him.
What happened to you? How did you do that? Are you ok? Damn it!
“I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
Don’t give me that crap, you’re not fine! Something changed, man - talk to me.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Sam protested weakly, wishing he knew where to aim the sincere look on his face.
Dammit Sam, don’t lie to me! I can SEE it, ok? I can see your power, and it’s dark, and it’s drowning you, man, and I’m not just going to stand here and watch it happen!
Sam was stunned. He knew Dean was in a different plane, but he’d never thought he may be able to see the currents of Sam’s abilities. He’d wanted to badly to deny that his fears were coming true. Sam sank slowly to the floor, trembling as he went. He’d put this off as long as he could, but he’d always known deep down that this day would come.
Sammy?
Dean’s presence wrapped around him, echoing concern and support. “I…” he faltered.
Sam, listen to me. Whatever this secret is, it’s killing you, man. I’m not going anywhere. Let me help.
Sam shut his eyes as tears threatened to spill, and took one last moment to feel the love of his family flow through him. Once Dean knew the truth, there was no way he’d ever be able to feel it again.
He took a deep breath. “Blood calls to blood,” he whispered.
Ok, random - is that s’posed to mean something to me?
“I’m … infected,” he whispered. “I have demon … blood … in me. Yellow-Eyes’ blood. From when I was a baby.” Dean didn’t respond, but the slow rise of anger in his stomach told Sam all he needed to know.
Dean knew the truth, and now he was going to leave.
Sam curled into himself, wrapping his long arms around his legs and burying his head in his knees. The tears were slipping past his tightly shut eyes now, rolling slowly down his cheeks and into his jeans. He’d never felt so dirty, so ashamed. Dean had given everything for him, and he couldn’t have picked a less deserving person.
He was a monster. A freak.
His silent tears turned to painful whimpers as he felt Dean’s presence pull away. He shuddered at the loss, the cold that always came. Alone. He was going to be alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.
“Sam.” A gentle hand rested lightly on Sam’s tear-stained knee. “Sammy, look at me.”
Sam froze, certain that he’d imagined things. He’d communicated with Dean, but he hadn’t heard his brother in weeks. “D..Dean?” God, he sounded like a child.
“Come on, it’s ok. Look at me.”
Sam raised hesitant eyes towards the voice. Looking past the tangled curtain of his long hair, he found himself staring into green eyes - eyes that mirrored his sadness and loss. “Dean?” he choked out, more firmly this time. “What…?” He didn’t dare move, he hardly breathed for fear of breaking the spell.
Dean smiled at him, brought his other hand up to lift Sam’s chin until they were face to face. Sam’s eyes widened in amazement.
Dean looked whole, unmarked. Healed.
Dean’s grip was solid and warm, and his voice carried a tone that offered no room for argument. “Sam, you look me in the eyes when I say this, alright?” Sam nodded weakly. He wouldn’t have been able to pull away even if he’d wanted to. Dean’s gaze was drawing him in like a magnet, like gravity.
“This shit is not your fault. I don’t care what that bastard did you to, you can’t get rid of me that easy, and I’m not ashamed of you.” Dean brought up his other hand then, brushing Sam’s hair out of his face the way he used to do when they were kids and Sam had made a mess over dinner. “And I’m not afraid of you.”He added. He studied his baby brother’s face, searching for the self-doubt that he knew would be there. His voice was steady and unyielding as he asked, “Understand me?”
Sam just stared at him for a moment, unable to speak for the shock of Dean solid and real in front of him - and even more shocking, the words that were coming out of his mouth.
From somewhere he worked up enough air to say, “But … demons did this to you. To our family. I did it. How can you still want … god, Dean, you should have just killed me when Dad told you the truth.” Dean’s gaze hardened and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory.
“No, I did this to me. I did it. Not you, not even that crossroads bitch. Me. I knew what I was doing, and I would do it again. No, look at me - I would, Sam.” It was true. Sam could see it in his brother’s eyes.
He thought of that brief eternity between the hellhounds attacking Dean and the first time he felt Dean call out to him, of how it seemed the world had ended. Finally he understood what it felt like.
Suddenly Sam’s brain caught up with the rest of him. “Dean,” he rasped, and his relief overwhelmed him. He lunged forward into his brother’s waiting arms.
“It’s ok, I got you.” Dean’s voice was steady and calming in his ear, and he gripped Sam back fiercely. “Look,” he said, “There’s not much time, alright? I can’t keep this up for long. You need to know something. The dark inside you - that’s not your power. I mean, it is power, but it’s not yours. It’s not the one you use to talk to me. It’s the one you use to kill the demons.”
Sam blinked in surprise, wondering how Dean could possibly know that, but he dismissed the thought in the wake of his other revelation, the one where Dean had said I can’t keep this up for long.
Which meant that Dean was still a spirit after all.
Panic surged up inside of Sam, shoving all other feelings aside. “Dean, what the hell, man? You can’t just …” He pushed away, just far enough to see Dean’s face, but some part of him wouldn’t let go completely, and he settled for gripping Dean’s shoulders tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
Dean just laughed, green eyes sparkling. “Hey, I told you I was a quick learner. ‘Sides, you think you’re the only one who’s been practicing?” Dean’s mischievous grin was infectious, and Sam felt the corners of his own lips twitch upward in response. “Are you okay now?” Dean asked.
“It’s getting stronger, every time I use it, it gets stronger.” Sam blurted out, thinking of the surge of hate and rage that always came when he used the power. Dean gripped Sam’s forearms firmly, fixed him with a determined gaze.
The covering mask of illusion began to fade, and Sam could make out tiny flecks on blood appearing on his brother’s cheek as Dean lost control of it.
“You can beat it. We can beat it, Sam.” he said. Dean began to fade, the firm feeling of his grip becoming an echo of remembered warmth on Sam’s skin.
“Dean!” Sam clutched at thin air, but his brother was gone.
I’m right here, Sam. Told you - not going anywhere.
A deep, sleepy sensation filtered through Sam, filling the empty space inside. Dean. He felt alright, but he had obviously used a lot of energy. Sam was too drained himself to push the feeling away. Instead he climbed shakily to his feet and stumbled into his bed, giving in to the flow, letting Dean’s weariness pull him under. “Y’okay, Dean?” he slurred.
Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need a break.
“Dean?” He whispered.
Yeah?
“Thanks.”
Take a nap already, psychic wonder.Fond amusement rippled through the fog of sleep, and Sam smiled as he shut his eyes to the feeling of what it was like to be accepted, no matter what.
Part three
Sam checked the clock. 7:00 AM. He’d overslept, but the whole point of checking in here had been to get some rest anyway, and he had paid for an extra day so he wouldn’t be bothered. He’d practically run the Impala off the road before Dean had managed to convince him to get some sleep. He found himself automatically looking to the other bed - he still couldn’t quite bring himself to get a single - and swallowed hard.
Morning sunshine.
“Hey.” There was a pressure behind Sam’s eyes that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the fact that he’d just woken up. He rubbed his forehead distractedly. Dean’s impatience thrummed underneath his skin like an idling motor, setting all of his nerves on edge.
Thought you were gonna sleep forever. C’mon, let’s hit the road. I wanna get this over with.
“Alright.”Sam agreed. He hadn’t unpacked much, just his toothbrush and a change of clothes, and it didn’t take long for him to clear the room. He splashed water over his face in an effort to clear his head. Without warning, the power inside him surged suddenly, angry waves cresting over him. Sam gasped and gripped the peeling linoleum countertop in an effort to ground himself. He struggled to hold the power down. He felt slight pressure on his shoulder, sensed Dean looking him over.
Feel ok?
“Yeah, I just …” Sam lost his tenuous grip. The vision slammed into him with all the fury of a tidal wave. Flash after flash of pictures half developed played across his sight, each image cresting the rise until one by one they blurred together.
The dizzying rush of images stopped abruptly, and Sam saw a man in a three piece suit. He moved smoothly but directly, as if he was on his way to an important meeting. Sam blinked, and his vision changed. The man faded to the background and Sam was left looking inside. A dark stain, black as pitch and twice as foul, covered the man’s barely living soul. “No, no no no …” The protest flowed from his lips unbidden as Sam tried to reign the current in.
Sam?
Sam focused on his brother’s presence, on the feel of Dean calling his name. He concentrated on breathing, tried to see what was right in front of his face, to pull himself back into the present before …
Too late.
Sam watched in horror as the demon stopped walking, turned to regard the empty street, and smiled.
It had felt his presence. It knew where he was.
SAM!
The connection snapped. Sam fell weakly to the floor, fine tremors running through his hands. He had no idea how long the little exchange had lasted.
“Demon,” He rasped out.
Where?
“Coming. Here. Now.”
We gotta get you out of here.
“No time.” Sam replied. He lunged for his duffel and grabbed out the salt, quickly laying a semi circle across the base of the door and lining the windowsill. Initial moment of panic over, he stared blankly at the door, wondering what he was going to do when the demon arrived.
He was mainly just hoping it would arrive alone.
The hell, Sam? Mind tellin’ me what just happened?
Sam cringed. He thought maybe he knew, but he certainly didn’t want to tell Dean. “I don’t know.”
I call bullshit.
“I don’t know, Dean, alright?”
Fine. What do we do? Is it alone? What if it calls in its buddies?
Sam weighed his options. They could run and hope the demon didn’t catch them, but it was close, and getting closer by the second. As far as he could tell, it was alone. He couldn’t risk it calling in reinforcements. He needed to take it out.
The boiling reservoir inside liked that idea.
Sam grabbed Ruby’s knife - his knife - from its resting place on the bedside table and headed for the door.
Where are you going?
“Hunting,” he replied. He opened the door slowly, careful to not disturb the salt.
Sam, don’t.
He paused briefly, shuddering at the feel of the demon on his inner radar. His senses tingled with fire that begged to be set loose. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But enough is enough.”
When he closed the door, he tried to pretend like he couldn’t feel Dean screaming his name.
~*~
The early morning rays of the sun filtered through white clouds, falling in bright beams around the motel parking lot. Everything was in vivid focus as Sam waited; the smell of recently fallen rain, the sounds of chirping birds, and the rumble of cars passing by all blended together to form a single snapshot impression of his surroundings.
The struggling, stained presence of the possessed man was drawing nearer.
Sam, don’t. Don’t.
Dean was close to panic, and with a twinge of regret Sam found himself wishing he’d lined the whole room with salt instead of just the doorway. “I got it.” He snapped, casting for a location on the demon.
How do you -
“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe.”
Sam snorted. “Not for long.” The dark reservoir was already responding, answering Sam’s call.
Sammy, wait!
Dean’s call was drowned out in the roar of the surge. Sam wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t going to expend his energy ripping this demon apart like he had the last one.
He was just going to blow it away.
With a surge of hate so intense in left Sam gasping for air, the killing power rushed outwards. It hit the demon instantly, and there was barely time for the monster to utter a scream before it ceased to exist forever.
The freed man blinked heavily, looking around the parking lot like he didn’t know where he was. Sam could feel Dean’s stunned disbelief as his brother swept Sam’s mental state through the link and found him healthy. “I’m ok, Dean. I’m ok.” Breathing heavily but otherwise feeling fine, Sam headed over to the bewildered man.
The angry heat of power settled back down, restless, disappointed. One demon wasn’t enough. Sam ignored the feeling. He had damage control to do.
~*~
Sam stalked back into the motel room, desperate to just pack up and go. The door slammed hard behind him, and he jumped in spite of himself. Figures Dean would pick now to learn how to go all Patrick Swayze on him.
What happened to you? How did you do that? Are you ok? Damn it!
“I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
Don’t give me that crap, you’re not fine! Something changed, man - talk to me.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Sam protested weakly, wishing he knew where to aim the sincere look on his face.
Dammit Sam, don’t lie to me! I can SEE it, ok? I can see your power, and it’s dark, and it’s drowning you, man, and I’m not just going to stand here and watch it happen!
Sam was stunned. He knew Dean was in a different plane, but he’d never thought he may be able to see the currents of Sam’s abilities. He’d wanted to badly to deny that his fears were coming true. Sam sank slowly to the floor, trembling as he went. He’d put this off as long as he could, but he’d always known deep down that this day would come.
Sammy?
Dean’s presence wrapped around him, echoing concern and support. “I…” he faltered.
Sam, listen to me. Whatever this secret is, it’s killing you, man. I’m not going anywhere. Let me help.
Sam shut his eyes as tears threatened to spill, and took one last moment to feel the love of his family flow through him. Once Dean knew the truth, there was no way he’d ever be able to feel it again.
He took a deep breath. “Blood calls to blood,” he whispered.
Ok, random - is that s’posed to mean something to me?
“I’m … infected,” he whispered. “I have demon … blood … in me. Yellow-Eyes’ blood. From when I was a baby.” Dean didn’t respond, but the slow rise of anger in his stomach told Sam all he needed to know.
Dean knew the truth, and now he was going to leave.
Sam curled into himself, wrapping his long arms around his legs and burying his head in his knees. The tears were slipping past his tightly shut eyes now, rolling slowly down his cheeks and into his jeans. He’d never felt so dirty, so ashamed. Dean had given everything for him, and he couldn’t have picked a less deserving person.
He was a monster. A freak.
His silent tears turned to painful whimpers as he felt Dean’s presence pull away. He shuddered at the loss, the cold that always came. Alone. He was going to be alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.
“Sam.” A gentle hand rested lightly on Sam’s tear-stained knee. “Sammy, look at me.”
Sam froze, certain that he’d imagined things. He’d communicated with Dean, but he hadn’t heard his brother in weeks. “D..Dean?” God, he sounded like a child.
“Come on, it’s ok. Look at me.”
Sam raised hesitant eyes towards the voice. Looking past the tangled curtain of his long hair, he found himself staring into green eyes - eyes that mirrored his sadness and loss. “Dean?” he choked out, more firmly this time. “What…?” He didn’t dare move, he hardly breathed for fear of breaking the spell.
Dean smiled at him, brought his other hand up to lift Sam’s chin until they were face to face. Sam’s eyes widened in amazement.
Dean looked whole, unmarked. Healed.
Dean’s grip was solid and warm, and his voice carried a tone that offered no room for argument. “Sam, you look me in the eyes when I say this, alright?” Sam nodded weakly. He wouldn’t have been able to pull away even if he’d wanted to. Dean’s gaze was drawing him in like a magnet, like gravity.
“This shit is not your fault. I don’t care what that bastard did you to, you can’t get rid of me that easy, and I’m not ashamed of you.” Dean brought up his other hand then, brushing Sam’s hair out of his face the way he used to do when they were kids and Sam had made a mess over dinner. “And I’m not afraid of you.”He added. He studied his baby brother’s face, searching for the self-doubt that he knew would be there. His voice was steady and unyielding as he asked, “Understand me?”
Sam just stared at him for a moment, unable to speak for the shock of Dean solid and real in front of him - and even more shocking, the words that were coming out of his mouth.
From somewhere he worked up enough air to say, “But … demons did this to you. To our family. I did it. How can you still want … god, Dean, you should have just killed me when Dad told you the truth.” Dean’s gaze hardened and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory.
“No, I did this to me. I did it. Not you, not even that crossroads bitch. Me. I knew what I was doing, and I would do it again. No, look at me - I would, Sam.” It was true. Sam could see it in his brother’s eyes.
He thought of that brief eternity between the hellhounds attacking Dean and the first time he felt Dean call out to him, of how it seemed the world had ended. Finally he understood what it felt like.
Suddenly Sam’s brain caught up with the rest of him. “Dean,” he rasped, and his relief overwhelmed him. He lunged forward into his brother’s waiting arms.
“It’s ok, I got you.” Dean’s voice was steady and calming in his ear, and he gripped Sam back fiercely. “Look,” he said, “There’s not much time, alright? I can’t keep this up for long. You need to know something. The dark inside you - that’s not your power. I mean, it is power, but it’s not yours. It’s not the one you use to talk to me. It’s the one you use to kill the demons.”
Sam blinked in surprise, wondering how Dean could possibly know that, but he dismissed the thought in the wake of his other revelation, the one where Dean had said I can’t keep this up for long.
Which meant that Dean was still a spirit after all.
Panic surged up inside of Sam, shoving all other feelings aside. “Dean, what the hell, man? You can’t just …” He pushed away, just far enough to see Dean’s face, but some part of him wouldn’t let go completely, and he settled for gripping Dean’s shoulders tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
Dean just laughed, green eyes sparkling. “Hey, I told you I was a quick learner. ‘Sides, you think you’re the only one who’s been practicing?” Dean’s mischievous grin was infectious, and Sam felt the corners of his own lips twitch upward in response. “Are you okay now?” Dean asked.
“It’s getting stronger, every time I use it, it gets stronger.” Sam blurted out, thinking of the surge of hate and rage that always came when he used the power. Dean gripped Sam’s forearms firmly, fixed him with a determined gaze.
The covering mask of illusion began to fade, and Sam could make out tiny flecks on blood appearing on his brother’s cheek as Dean lost control of it.
“You can beat it. We can beat it, Sam.” he said. Dean began to fade, the firm feeling of his grip becoming an echo of remembered warmth on Sam’s skin.
“Dean!” Sam clutched at thin air, but his brother was gone.
I’m right here, Sam. Told you - not going anywhere.
A deep, sleepy sensation filtered through Sam, filling the empty space inside. Dean. He felt alright, but he had obviously used a lot of energy. Sam was too drained himself to push the feeling away. Instead he climbed shakily to his feet and stumbled into his bed, giving in to the flow, letting Dean’s weariness pull him under. “Y’okay, Dean?” he slurred.
Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need a break.
“Dean?” He whispered.
Yeah?
“Thanks.”
Take a nap already, psychic wonder.Fond amusement rippled through the fog of sleep, and Sam smiled as he shut his eyes to the feeling of what it was like to be accepted, no matter what.
Part three