Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me (10/?)
Title: Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 7, 634
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
It took them three more days and a lot more research to solve the case. Of course, they were supremely lucky there weren’t cameras out back between the library and the civic center because some of that research had to be done there and it would’ve been next to impossible with the police that were crawling around in the day immediately following Meg’s death. They kept the Colt well hidden after that night, in the trunk of the Impala, though it wasn’t all that necessary. The murder case was a total dead end. No one in town knew the girl, and obviously, she carried no identification. Of course, that only made them assume she’d been robbed, and it led them barking up the wrong tree where they’d be until they closed the case.
Sam couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about the real Meg because without that fall from the window to worry about, she’d still been in there, and if they’d performed an exorcism they probably could have saved her. But that was just one of those things…family came first, and Pastor Jim, Caleb…they couldn’t die. Not when he could stop it.
In the end, they found the answer not in the traditional library records but in a newspaper article run on local tragedies, like the story of how a woman had been raped at the library way back in the day and had managed to kill her attacker by beating him to death with a heavy book. The poor woman had been severely traumatized by the whole experience, and she’d taken her own life days later. From the way the spirit targeted women and in most cases choked them to death, they were fairly sure they were dealing not with the spirit of Abby, but with that of Dawson Ijams, her attacker.
His grave only took a little checking around to find, and they’d just finished wrapping up the salt and burn, shovel’s slung over their shoulders on the way back to the car.
“I don’t know about you, but I was thinkin’ we should reward ourselves after this one.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah? How so?”
“I dunno. I mean, we’ve never really hit up Vegas.” True. He’d almost forgotten that that was on Dean’s ‘list’, honestly, so now just might be a good time to knock it out. They were no closer to finding dad than they ever had been, even though he was pretty damn sure they’d been in the same city a handful of times. For the moment, best they could do was everything they already had been doing, and it wouldn’t hurt to take a break.
“Think we could handle that.” Dean popped the trunk, and Sam leaned over it, tucking first his shovel and Dean’s into their place.
“Boys.”
Honestly, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He did jerk, enough to crack his head on the trunk of the Impala, but that hardly mattered. He pressed the heel of his hand against the knot on his forehead, whirling around to face the last person he’d expected to see right then.
“Dad?!”
He smiled, hunched his shoulders a little more, hands tucked into his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You were here? I mean, when’d you-“
“Just this morning. I found out there was gonna be trouble for you two, and I came to make sure it didn’t happen the way it wants.” He stepped forward, clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder then hesitated, followed the motion through all the way into a hug that Dean accepted like he was starving for it. Sam didn’t expect the same, honestly, but when he got it anyway he teared up, held on tight and patted his dad on the back before he let him go, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
“What’re you talkin’ about dad? What’s goin’ on?”
“First things first, let me see that gun.” They looked at each other, then, and he smiled a little wider. “Yeah, I know you’ve got it. I didn’t at first, though I did hear it went missing from Daniel’s. But when I heard about the demon you killed the other night, I knew you had it. How’d you even find out about it? And what the hell made you think it was ok to steal from a fellow hunter? I mean, not that I’m not grateful we’ve got it now, but Daniel’s a good man, and he didn’t deserve that.”
“Dad, we’re sorry, but-“
“But I had heard about the gun.” Sam cut in, ignored the look Dean gave him that tried to tell him he didn’t have to handle it. “And I thought that if you were in danger when we found you, it might be something we needed to have.” It was a little disturbing how easy the lies still came, when he needed them. “Look, I know it was wrong, but I was thinkin’ about you.” And Dean. Always Dean. Before dad could start in on him again, he kept going. “So what’s going on, dad? Why’re you here? I mean, we’ve been tryin’ everything, been calling every time we needed you and we’ve gotten nothing so…”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I have to say, you boys’ve been doin’ really well. But I’ve been after it, the thing that killed your mother, and it’s dangerous, Sammy. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if I don’t get you two safe right now, because it’s a demon, and that other one you killed? She meant something to him, because he’s coming straight for you. And from what I’ve been able to gather, he’s not alone either.”
Well. Shit. This was one of those unintended consequences, like killing jackals and being overrun with snakes. Pick your poison. All things considered there was a pretty big part of him that would’ve rather faced Meg than Azazel but at the same time, if they were able to really get Azazel this time…well, that’d change everything.
“What do we do?” Dean was in full on protector mode, shoulders squared, his eyes watching their father’s every move like he was a god. Sam had seen that change come over a hundred times since he was a kid, usually right at the moment dad walked out the door and said ‘Don’t open this door for anyone, don’t answer the phone unless it rings once first, and watch out for Sammy.’.
“Right now, you get in the car. I’ll explain once we get back to the motel.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Under the circumstances not being able to touch Dean probably shouldn’t have been a concern, but it was. It had been months now they’d been traveling alone, and he wasn’t even sure if he could manage to share a bed with him and make it look remotely distant anymore. He curled around Dean unconsciously, moved into his touch rather than away from it if their arms brushed as they turned over.
So until he could find the answer to how much self control he kept while unconscious, he was staying up and letting Dean sleep. Dad was researching and he’d been trying to do the same, though for the past 20 minutes it had just been sipping coffee that did nothing to settle the way his stomach was churning. He’d been thinking over everything since dad had told them what he knew about the demon. Since he knew that he hadn’t said all he knew. It had twisted at him like barbed wire under his skin, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe this had to be equal, because even with Meg dead this was playing out too dangerously close to before. There were things he needed to get off his chest, things he needed dad to understand, things he needed to hear.
He sat the half empty styrofoam cup down and cleared his throat. “Hey, dad? Can I talk to you about something?”
Right away, he shut the book he’d been reading. Sam could(and had) say what he liked about the kind of father John Winchester had been, but even at his worst totally uncaring had never been one of those things. Even if sometimes it was hard to understand the way he showed it, for the most part, he made sense if you knew where to look.
“Course, Sammy. What’s on your mind?”
Everything. Every last goddamn thing from ‘He said I might have to kill you, Sammy!’ to ‘So, Lucifer’s wearing you to the prom’. He swallowed hard, sat forward on the end of the bed and talked quietly , his hands rubbing together. “So…this is gonna sound a lot crazy, but if I swear I’m tellin’ you the truth and I give you enough proof that I am, you promise you’ll believe me?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to catch Sam’s eyes. “You know I will. Just tell me what’s botherin’ you.”
He laughed, short and nervous. “Ah, a lot, actually. Um…dad, I know.” Well, that needed more clarification. “About me. About…about what Azazel did.” He’d figured that whatever dad said about believing him he needed to start with a hook to get him really certain, and that was it. He’d hardly ever seen him look so taken off guard.
“Did you-“
“No, no, dad, I haven’t been goin’ through any of your stuff. I promise.” Other than breaking into the truck that once for weather patterns, but that shouldn’t count. “See, this is the part that’s gonna sound crazy, but considering you already know what he’s done to me, maybe it’ll be a little easier for you to understand.” Emphasis on the maybe. “Do you…do you even know what his endgame for all this is?” Even if he was about to tell him, he still desperately hoped the answer was a no.
He hesitated like he still couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation, or that he should be having this conversation, but he relented. “For sure, no. But I’ve got some ideas, I think…but, Sam, you don’t have to do this, ok? We don’t…we don’t know exactly what-“
“Dad, I know. Just…how do you think it ends? Please, I need to know what you think.” About me. Because deep down, that was the issue here. Was he afraid of him? Did he see him the way Gordon had, as a ticking time bomb that would have to be used in a controlled explosion if he couldn’t be diffused in a ‘reasonable’ amount of time?
In the silence, he could hear Dean breathing, slow and even and steady, and he counted 15 of them before he got his answer.
“I think you’re my son.” He reached out, a single strong, comforting hand closing for a moment over Sam’s arm before he pulled it away. “And I think he wanted to use you to start a war, and that whatever he had planned for you, it doesn’t really matter, because I’m not gonna let it happen. You understand? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Sammy. I’m not.”
If he could’ve chosen the answer he needed but wouldn’t have expected in a million years, it would’ve been something like that. After hearing it, he almost didn’t want to say any more, almost wanted to let it go and just keep those words locked away as the last ones on the subject, but he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to.
Even so, he couldn’t look up as he said it. “He does want to start a war. But it’s not really…it’s bigger than that. He wants to start the apocalypse, and he needs…” Somehow, it was almost harder saying the words to him than it was to Dean. “He needs someone with demon blood, because they need certain powers to help break some of the seals, the ones they talk about in Revelation. And when that’s done, Lucifer rises and claims his vessel. Which…” He took a deep breath, hoped like hell the words came out stronger than he felt. “Has to be a younger brother. From just the right bloodline, because his older brother, he has to be the vessel for the archangel Michael. And then…then there’s the war.”
God, if he’d thought the silence was deafening before…
“How do you know all this, Sam?”
“Because I’ve done it already. Well, most of it anyway, right up to the Lucifer part.” His eyes darted up to check the look on his face, and he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed to see that dad clearly didn’t think he was crazy. Just…right. “I ah…things were goin’ to hell, dad.” This part, this’d be the point where he couldn’t hold it together so well. “Dean was…he wasn’t even himself anymore, and I was mostly to blame, but he’d been to hell too and…” Fuck, he didn’t want to get into it all. Even if he felt like it might help, just a little. “I’d done so much wrong, dad. I…I used the powers, I did…” His voice dropped, so hushed even he could hardly hear. “I did terrible things. But in the end, I came around but it was nearly too late. I wasn’t saying yes to Lucifer, but Dean was about a month or so away from sayin’ yes to Michael, I could see it in him, and I guess I panicked. So…I went to a crossroads demon, and I made a deal, and I came back here, to do it all over. And I know-“ He could tell, he was about to light into him over the demon thing. Everyone kind of had a right, really. “-I know that sounds really crazy. But I know things I couldn’t know, I know what the house in Lawrence looked like when you were living there, cause we had to go back and stop these angels. There were the two couches across from each other in the living room and it was 1978 and you’d never met much of mom’s family.” God, he’d never seen dad so taken off guard. “But the point is I think I can stop it, and even if I can’t stop all of it, I’ve already lived through all this once. And if I could do all the wrong things that I did before and still come down to the end and sayin’ no when it mattered…then I can do much better this time around.” That was what he had to believe, at least. It felt true.
“Sam…” He rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing hard at his beard and over his eyes. This was too much to put on him, Sam knew, but he needed to. He desperately needed to. “Why are you just tellin’ me this now? If you knew-“
“Mostly, because I wanted to fix it myself. And…because it’s hard to explain, and I hated to tell either of you some of it, and there was the question of convincing you to believe me and…” But mostly, it came down to the whole ‘not wanting them to know’ thing. Because in their line of work, they could convince each other of pretty much anything.
Dad was at a loss. He looked like he wanted to yell, he did, but the shock and the weariness was weighing down the anger for once. “I’m guessing I don’t make it that far, do I?”
“You will.” He wasn’t losing him again, he wasn’t. Not yet, not when they were actually family again. “Dad, I-“
“Sam, what the hell good did you think selling your soul was gonna do? They’ve already-“
“Already got it? But see, that’s the thing, dad, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, they don’t!” And this, this was what he wanted him to believe more than anything else. That in his soul, down deep where the blood couldn’t touch, he was just Sam. Sam Winchester. And that made all the difference in the world. “Look, you said…you said you believed in me, right? Or at least, that I’m your son, that I don’t have to be anything other than that. Well that’s what I’m gonna do. I know what I did wrong, and I know where it started, and it’s not gonna happen again. It’s not. I’m gonna do things right this time, and if I go to hell…I’ll do that right too. For as long as I can. Look, I promise, I…I’m not gonna let you down. Just trust me. Please, just trust me, I’m not…” His eyes burned, and he looked away. “Before, it was like everyone was expecting me to fail, like…like this was just my destiny and it was inevitable, but I never believed it, I never stopped believing I could change it if I wanted. That me and Dean could change it. I just…I guess I just wanna know that you think I have a chance. That you can trust me enough to believe I’ll do the right thing, that-“
“Ok.”
He stopped rambling, bit down on his tongue before he could bring himself to look up and meet his father’s gaze. His eyes were bright, and he shifted just a little closer and reached out, fingers trailing through his hair like he had when he was just a boy, hand drifting down to squeeze his shoulder.
“It’s ok, Sammy. It doesn’t matter what they say you’re supposed to do, alright? I believe you.”
The words had never sounded so good. He nodded, slid his hands over his knees and almost stood up to try and go to bed or least get back to work, but he stopped himself at the last second, one more thing still nagging at him.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Can you not tell Dean?” Because if somehow he went wrong here, God forbid if they lost him anyway and he told Dean what he had before, or if he just decided to tell him anway…no. That just couldn’t happen. He’d seen the weight of it drive Dean to just this side of suicidal before and he had no desire to see that happen again. “I’ve already told him nearly everything. He knows about my deal, about most of it, he just doesn’t know about Lucifer, about how bad things get.” About how bad he got. “And before, you told him something that wrecked him and…and I don’t wanna see him go through that again. Look, I know you expect him to look after me, and I appreciate it, I do, but this is one I’ve gotta take on my own anyway, and I can. He doesn’t need that on him, not now. So…please, just don’t tell him anything that’s gonna make him worry, ok? Please?”
He smiled, sitting back in his chair and looking over at where Dean slept, stretched out on his back in the bed by the door. “You know, when you were little, I never had to tell him much about lookin’ out for you. I’d remind him to do it, but all the ways he did it, he knew those all on his own. First few months after we left Lawrence, I couldn’t keep him from sleepin’ in your crib, cause he was sure the fire couldn’t get you if he was there.” Yeah, that sounded like Dean. The need to go to him then was nearly overpowering, a pull Sam hated to resist. “Dean’s never gonna stop worryin’ about you, Sammy. He wants to be the kind of big brother he thinks he needs to be, and I’m sure I’m part of it, but it was already in him, too. So whatever I tell him or don’t tell him, it’s not gonna change much.”
“With this, it will. I promise.” Especially after the way Dean had nearly fallen apart over the demon deal. He couldn’t find out everything else, not in the way dad would tell him. It was bad enough that he’d one day end up hearing it from Sam anyway.
“Well, I won’t tell him. I’m just sayin’, Dean’s gonna keep worrying. And he’s not an idiot. Kid reads you like a book, always has. If it’s on your mind, he’s gonna know it.”
Yeah. There was that.
Dad patted him on the shoulder, his hand lingering. “You should get some sleep, son. We gotta be focused tomorrow, ok?”
“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”
He’d just turned away when he asked his last question, voice soft and quiet.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Before it gets that far, do we finish this son of a bitch?”
That, at least, he had a good answer for. “Yeah. We do.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
There were so many ways this was a terrible idea.
They’d done some snooping around and some examining of cloud patterns and such, and they’d found the area of town they thought he’d be in. Or at least the direction he’d come from, in any case. It was an out of the way area, and there was sure to be more than enough places out there for him to hide. That part, that all made sense. What made none whatsoever was this current plan.
“Dad, it’s insane, alright? No way you should be going out there by yourself, without the Colt much less!”
He zipped up his bag, slung it quick over his shoulder. “Sam, this is not an argument. This is not even a discussion, because I’m goin’ like it or not, and you’ll stay here with your brother like I told you already.” They stared each other down, and just like he had all his life he felt like he shrank under the iron strength of dad’s gaze. “You boys need to keep the Colt just in case, but I’m just going out scouting. Nothing I need you for, and I won’t be able to do it right if I’m worried about either of you getting caught or getting hurt. So you stay here and you find out what you can, and you wait for me to get back. Got it?”
Yeah, perfectly. Only it hadn’t magically gotten any less stupid since he’d said it a few minutes ago. “But, dad-“
“Sam.” Clearly, no argument. He crossed to the door, hefting the bag up just a little higher on his shoulder. “Dean, you both stay here and wait for me, you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. I’ll be back.”
As soon as the door shut, he turned on Dean. “Dean, this is bullshit!”
Dean sighed, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Look, man, I know you don’t like it but unless there’s some specific reason you know that you couldn’t tell him, we’ve got nothin’ and we need to stay here.”
It was just that that worried him. He had nothing. He had no precedent for this, no way of knowing how it went or what would happen next and that was infuriating. In big stakes situations like this, he’d wanted to go into them knowing everyone’s cards.
The Colt was lying on the dresser, and his eyes were drawn to it as he paced, like it was calling out to him. He was all for protecting those last 3 bullets of course, but protecting dad…that was more important. If he got himself into a mess with Azazel, if something happened because they let him go alone…
“Dude.” Dean stepped in front of him, catching his shirt and holding on. “Sam, I’m freaked too, ok? I’m scared. But we’ve gotta do what dad asked us. We’ve gotta trust him. He knows what he’s doin’, alright? He’s dad.”
There was that, sure, and Dean had always believed it was enough. Even as a man, in his eyes dad was nothing short of a superhero, invincible and strong and brave. Scary thing was, the real truth lay somewhere short of that, and Sam never wanted to watch Dean learn it. Every year since their father’s death his opinion of him had dropped, and while it was true he’d messed up a few things, watching Dean gradually lose all faith and respect for someone he’d loved so much and held so high had torn at Sam’s heart. He absolutely never wanted to see that happen again.
Sam sat down with Dean on the edge of the bed, his hands linked, thumbs tapping against his knuckles since he couldn’t pace. Hopefully, Dean was right.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
By the time 1 rolled around, Dean was starting to really worry. Sam could see it in little things, like the way he took a drink, his fingers tightening a little convulsively around his beer, and the way he couldn’t focus on anything for more than two seconds, even the journal. Especially the journal. Considering that was the one text Dean could and did read with religious attention, that was a sure sign of trouble.
Of course, that was the whole problem. Dad not being back yet, that was the real sure sign of trouble. He usually gave them a concrete time to expect him, or at the very least an estimate, but since he hadn’t known exactly what all he’d be casing, he hadn’t been entirely sure how long he’d been gone. That created an even larger problem for them now, though, because if they went looking for him and he’d still planned to be gone much longer and didn’t need them, he’d just jump all over them about following his orders. If, on the other hand, something had gone wrong…
“This isn’t right.”
Now would’ve been a cruel time to point out that’s why he’d flipped from the start. “No. It’s not.”
Dean let out a heavy breath, almost relieved, like he’d just been waiting for Sam to agree with him and ease some of the tension from his chest. From the set of his shoulders, though, most of it had stayed. “I mean, he hasn’t even called.”
“And we don’t even know where he is, which, if we’d gone with him…” He couldn’t help pointing that out, at least a little. Sam sighed, rubbed his hands over his knees, feeling fraying denim. “Ok. So, considering I think we should’ve followed him to begin with, I say we go looking. If we find him and he’s fine and he’s pissed, ok, just tell him it was my fault, because if something’s wrong, we need to be there with him.”
Dean hesitated, his hand hovering over his pocket for a moment before he whipped out his phone. “Let me just call him real quick. I know he’s not the best about answering, but just in case...”
On the third ring his face paled, and Sam already knew.
“Who the hell is this?”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam had only wanted to believe in fate selectively. Apparently, that was something you couldn’t really do. He believed it that he was meant to be with his brother, to be bound to him in every way possible but he didn’t want to believe that come hell or high water he was gonna be nothing more than Lucifer’s puppet at the end of the day. He didn’t want to believe that all the hundreds of shitty things that had happened to them over the course of their lives had been meant to happen, but now he was seriously starting to wonder.
Was everyone only allotted so much good in their life and the rest had to be borderline unbearable? Was that it, or were the Winchesters really just cursed?
He didn’t have the answers to those questions, and he was starting to think he hardly had the answers to anything else either. A lot of good it was gonna do him if most of the things he wanted to stop were just six of one half a dozen of the other. Thing was, from what Dean had told him it wasn’t Yellow Eyes on the phone, and he knew for certain with the tattoo he’d gotten at the same time they did that dad couldn’t be possessed this time around, so it was all up in the air just how this could go.
Dean did 30 over nearly all the way out to the abandoned barn, and he screeched onto the last turn, gravel flying from the tires. Sam reached over, closed his hand around his arm just above his wrist.
“Dean, slow down. They may know we’re coming but we don’t wanna advertise it.” They wouldn’t have much of an element of surprise here, so any at all that they could grab would be to their benefit. If they could even manage that at all. He closed his hand around the Colt tucked against his side under his jacket, his fingers pressing hard into the grip.
Think I’ve found something that belongs to you. Bring the gun.
Dean said he’d been short about it, terse, and Sam could’ve told him right away that that wasn’t Azazel. It wasn’t his style. If this went anything like before, though, Yellow Eyes had brought his boy in with Meg last time around. If he was angry about her death, it could stand to reason he’d send his son this time around too. Of course, there the omens to account for but Azazel had fooled them before. It could be a trick, or he could’ve barely passed through town, or he could be waiting for them there in the barn. There was just no way to know.
When they saw it up ahead Dean slowed up, and he parked on the opposite side of the street, a good enough distance that if things went crazy in there they’d still be able to get out pretty fast but not close enough that someone else was likely to drive off with the car. At least, that had been the rationale Dean had explained to Sam years ago as to why he parked it at a distance when they were going into certain situations.
We can’t let ‘em take the car, Sam. We’ve gotta look after it.
Of course.
Sam patted down his pockets, felt the tape recorder, exorcism book and the flask of holy water. The Colt was in snug against his side, the grip pressing into his ribs. Getting through this and still keeping it was going to be potentially impossible, but they could do their best. Above all else, getting dad out of there alive was priority, even if it lost them the Colt.
He shut his door a little carefully than he normally would have, even though it was pointless to go easy on the noise. He had to know they were here. Dean was focused, steady, the usual look he had when he was hunting intensified and almost wiped over by a kind of focused anger that Sam recognized all too well.
“Dean.” He looked over at him, eyebrows rising. “We’ll get him. I know we will.”
“You just be careful, alright? Look if you even think there’s no way of pulling anything else off, you just hand him the gun and we’ll go, ok?”
Well, he didn’t want to make it that easy on them. He was gonna try at least something first. “It’s alright. Just…distract him for me. Get him talking, looking away from me for a second, ok? Then I’ll give him the gun.”
The look in Dean’s eyes was pure suspicion. “What are you gonna do?”
“Something that might buy us a few seconds. C’mon, let’s go.”
Dean caught the back of his jacket as he tried to walk past, snagging him to a stop. “If you think you can leave it at that you’re crazy. What’re you gonna do?”
Even if they weren’t being watched, he didn’t want to pull it out here. “The tape recorder, the one you used when…” It was still enough of a sore memory that he couldn’t quite finish that. “You stopped at the exorcism.”
“Yeah?”
“Well that tape’s still in there, right? I snagged it out of the bag before we left, and if I play it, it doesn’t matter if it’s loud just hearing it will have an effect on him.” Sam shrugged. “He’ll probably get to it and destroy it pretty quick but…it’s something. It’s a distraction.”
He brought his hand down on Dean’s shoulder, squeezed hard and felt the familiar strong muscle under his fingers. The touch grounded them both, and he could see a little of the worry seep out of Dean’s eyes. They were halfway across to the barn before Dean spoke again, his voice low.
“I mean it, Sam, this goes south you get your ass out of here I don’t care if-“
“I’m not leaving you and dad. But if something happens, yeah, we’ll all haul ass outta here.” With any luck, though, this’d go a lot smoother than that. They opened the barn doors together, one each, and they tossed them open hard letting the late afternoon light in. The sun was almost down, the light orange and gold and just enough to reach about halfway back, to the point where their dad was tied to a rusted out tractor. He was conscious but blood was crusted on the side of his face from a clearly pretty serious wound, and it took everything Sam had not to run to him.
“Dad.” They said it at the same time, both a little breathless, and he held his head up just a little higher.
“Hey, boys.”
“I see you came.” The demon came forward out of the shadows, red hair and black eyes and a steady calculating look. “You should know, I won’t hesitate to kill your father in front of you but that’s just messy and he’d rather I avoid it, even after what you’ve done.”
“Where is he? Coward send you here cause he knew we were gonna kick your sorry ass?” Dean stalked forward to meet him, keeping himself between the demon and Sam. It just kept coming closer anyway.
“He has more important things to do. Although the death of my sister was enough to bring him to town, briefly. Enough to get your attention and realize he couldn’t let the gun stay in your hands, even if you weren’t quick enough or smart enough to get him with it.” There, they got what was almost a grin, but it didn’t take. Meg was taunting, talkative like her father but this guy…all business, and probably harder to taunt, to distract. Lovely.
“Your sister, huh? Gotta tell you, man…” Dean stepped forward just a little further, mostly blocking Sam from view. “She’s a real bitch.” Sam slipped his hand into his pocket.
“A compliment.”
He pushed play, jerking the recorder out of his pocket so the sound could emanate at least a little louder, Dean’s voice pouring from the speaker.
omnis immundus spiritus
He flinched, turning and snarling, and Sam’s fingers tightened on the recorder and held it high, holding his attention. Dean took the chance, bolting around and heading straight for dad, falling to his knees beside him in the dirt.
omnis satanica potestas
There was screaming from the tape recorder, and the demon before him stumbled as he lurched forward.
omnis incursion
He lunged forward, harder, and Sam reached into his pocket for the Colt, tossing it free and to the side. The chances that he could grab it like that were pretty decent, but if he got his hands on Sam like it looked like he was going to, he’d definitely get his hands on it. Sure enough, the demon hit him hard in the chest, driving him back, one hand going up to grip Sam’s wrist and slam his hand into the ground. His hand popped open at the sharp pain, the recorder bouncing free, and the demon grabbed it, beating it into pieces against the dirt floor.
Sam tried to scrabble in his jacket for the holy water but his hand was smacked away, the demon’s free hand then sliding up to curl around his throat. It had been awhile since a demon of this level was stronger than him, and for a moment something insidious in the back of his head told him that if he could only drink, he’d have no problems. It wouldn’t be hard, his neck was right there, but…
No. Goddammit, no, never again. Not once. He gasped, twisted, tried in vain to push him off. His throat burned.
A shot cracked off followed by the familiar crackle of electricity, and the demon slumped forward onto him, a bullet through his head. Sam shoved at him, pushing him free, and he’d hardly even started to catch his breath before Dean was there. He crouched over him, one hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other against his cheek.
“Sammy? You ok?”
He wheezed, nodded slowly, patted Dean’s arm once before pushing his hand away from his face. The hand on his shoulder stayed, and when Sam rolled over to try and find his feet Dean pulled him up, arm hooked around his shoulders. After a few more breaths he definitely didn’t need it, but he didn’t try to move away, instead leaned just a little more into his brother’s side.
“How many bullets left?”
“You’re gonna ask me that now? He was tryin’ to kill Sam and you-“
“How many bullets?”
“2.” Sam spoke up, his voice scratching only a little. “There’s 2.”
Dad held out his hand, beckoning. “Give me the gun, Dean.”
Dean’s fingers flexed around it, and he pulled it back in close to his chest. It didn’t escape Sam’s notice that he pulled him in just a little tighter too, and he hoped that dad wasn’t watching all that closely. They’d never tipped him off as far as they knew, and they were pretty damn sure they didn’t ever want to know how he’d respond if he knew what went on between them.
“No.”
“No? Dean, that’s an order, you give me the gun so I can keep it safe so when I finally find the son of a bitch that killed your mother-“
“We.” They both looked at him, and Sam tried to stand up just a little taller without letting go. “When we find him. Dad, I know you’re tryin’ to protect us, we both know that, but don’t you think we’re worried about what could happen to you, too? We’ve had that on us the whole time you’ve been gone, thinkin’ that something could happen to you without us there to watch your back and it just…it’s not right that we can’t worry about you, too. And besides, you saw what happened here. You’re the best hunter there is, but-“ He tried to wave it off, but Sam kept talking. “-even you’re not invincible, dad. And we’re weaker if they divide us, we all are.” Every single time. “You gotta believe me on this. We need to stick together, to bring this demon down together. Please.”
He took a deep breath, nodded once before he brought a hand up to rest on each of their shoulders, stabilizing. “Alright. Alright, we’ll do it together. But you’ve gotta understand something, both of you. If I give you an order, you listen, for everyone’s sakes, because if I don’t know I have control over what’s going on, I’m gonna be worried enough about both of you that that’ll make everything worse.”
“And if we’d listened to you today, you’d be dead.”
“You don’t know that, he probably would’ve-“
“Dad, please. Just…trust us a little to know what we’re doin’, ok? You taught us. We’re pretty good at all of this by now. At least…” He glanced over at Dean, tried to get his brother to crack a smile. It worked, if only just. “Most of the time. Enough to come in and save your ass every now and then.”
He smirked, laughing a little as he shook his head. “C’mon. If we’re leavin’ we don’t have any more time to waste. If he’s still in town, we’ve gotta find him.”
“You really think he is? I mean, guy over there made it sound like he was just passin’ through.” Dean shifted his weight, his fingers tightening around the collar of Sam’s jacket where his hand curled around his neck.
“No way to know until we look into it for ourselves.” He held his hand out again, something in his eyes just a little less serious than before but still making it clear he’d meant what he said. “The gun, Dean. I’m not running out on you boys, but if we get a chance at him, I’m gonna take it. No offense to either of you, but I’m still the best shot around here and we can’t afford to miss.”
For a minute, Sam flashed back to everything Dean had told him Yellow Eyes had said in the house where they’d run after Jefferson City, but it didn’t last long. The tattoo was security. This was dad and he was fine and they were getting the hell out of here and striking out somewhere else. Everything was gonna be alright.
Dean handed it over, barrel first, his fingers slow to unclench from the grip. Dad turned it over in his hand, fingers skimming over the metal before he tucked it in against his side, head jerking quick toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s go. You follow me, alright? We need to grab everything and then at the very least change rooms, even if we’re not leaving town yet. He probably doesn’t know where we’re staying but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Dean let him go only reluctantly for the walk to the car, brushing up against him just a little on the way. Sam knew how he felt. It hadn’t been nearly as close as it could’ve been but even so, he had the desire to be as close to Dean as he could and obviously, they couldn’t be doing that for a little while.
Even different as this had played out he was still on edge with the memories of everything from before, and just before they reached the car he stopped Dean, gripping onto his jacket.
“You should drive.”
Dean looked at him like he’d started speaking Greek. “And?”
He pushed him, hand splayed against his chest and lingering there for as long as he dared. “What’s with the look? I drive sometimes.”
“Yeah...when I need to pass out. Or when you ask. Other than that, it’s my car, Sam. Of course I’m gonna drive.” He slid into the driver’s seat and Sam took the passenger side, smiling, his heart lighter already . This had been an entirely different fight in an entirely different state, but on the off chance something happened, he’d be the passenger and with dad in the truck, no one’d be in the back. If the bad luck with stopping this shit he’d had lately held and Sam died, here, no problem. Or, less of a problem. He just went downstairs a little ahead of schedule.
“I’m not trying to take her away from you, Dean. I’m pretty sure the Impala only has eyes for you.”
“You bet she does.” He gunned the ignition, Heart pouring from the speakers. “Man, I’m starving. Maybe once we figure out where we’re goin’ we can tell dad we need to stop for dinner.”
“If we’re leavin’ town we can probably hit up that same diner, get you some more pie.” It had been blueberry, and Dean had made ridiculously orgasm-like sounds while he ate it. Listening and watching him lick the fork had been torture, especially when at first Dean had been so wrapped up in the damn pie he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing. Of course, it hadn’t been much better when he had. He’d only dragged it out a little more, the swipes of his tongue across metal more pronounced, and by the time they left Sam was rock hard and ready to kill him. Or at least make him put those too fucking pretty lips to use. That one he’d managed, and he hadn’t even had to wait until they found a motel. Dean had pulled off in a deserted parking lot, stretched out on the seat and sucked him off in the car, taking him as far as he could and letting Sam’s hips jerk up into his mouth. He’d made the same obscene noises, and Sam had curled his fingers around the back of his head, his own head thrown back against the seat, too fucking hard to watch because he wouldn’t have lasted a minute if he did.
That probably wasn’t the best thing to think about just then, actually, because even if they went back, he wouldn’t be able to get a repeat performance, not with dad waiting on them to follow him. He sighed, his head resting against the window.
“You know I’m always up for pie. Course…” He looked over out of the corner of his eye, voice dropping a little. “Sucking you off in that parking lot, that was pretty good too. But if I have to pick one-“
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“You love my ass.”
“Would you just drive?”
“What, so driving and talking are mutually exclusive now? I see how it is. See, that just enforces why the pie’s such a better choice.”
“Are we talking in general, or just as something to stick in your mouth? Because if it’s in general, you can try living with it for a few weeks and I’ll watch and see how you two are getting along, how’s that sound?”
The cement truck hit from the driver’s side, and everything went black.
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Master post is here.
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 7, 634
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
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It took them three more days and a lot more research to solve the case. Of course, they were supremely lucky there weren’t cameras out back between the library and the civic center because some of that research had to be done there and it would’ve been next to impossible with the police that were crawling around in the day immediately following Meg’s death. They kept the Colt well hidden after that night, in the trunk of the Impala, though it wasn’t all that necessary. The murder case was a total dead end. No one in town knew the girl, and obviously, she carried no identification. Of course, that only made them assume she’d been robbed, and it led them barking up the wrong tree where they’d be until they closed the case.
Sam couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about the real Meg because without that fall from the window to worry about, she’d still been in there, and if they’d performed an exorcism they probably could have saved her. But that was just one of those things…family came first, and Pastor Jim, Caleb…they couldn’t die. Not when he could stop it.
In the end, they found the answer not in the traditional library records but in a newspaper article run on local tragedies, like the story of how a woman had been raped at the library way back in the day and had managed to kill her attacker by beating him to death with a heavy book. The poor woman had been severely traumatized by the whole experience, and she’d taken her own life days later. From the way the spirit targeted women and in most cases choked them to death, they were fairly sure they were dealing not with the spirit of Abby, but with that of Dawson Ijams, her attacker.
His grave only took a little checking around to find, and they’d just finished wrapping up the salt and burn, shovel’s slung over their shoulders on the way back to the car.
“I don’t know about you, but I was thinkin’ we should reward ourselves after this one.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah? How so?”
“I dunno. I mean, we’ve never really hit up Vegas.” True. He’d almost forgotten that that was on Dean’s ‘list’, honestly, so now just might be a good time to knock it out. They were no closer to finding dad than they ever had been, even though he was pretty damn sure they’d been in the same city a handful of times. For the moment, best they could do was everything they already had been doing, and it wouldn’t hurt to take a break.
“Think we could handle that.” Dean popped the trunk, and Sam leaned over it, tucking first his shovel and Dean’s into their place.
“Boys.”
Honestly, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He did jerk, enough to crack his head on the trunk of the Impala, but that hardly mattered. He pressed the heel of his hand against the knot on his forehead, whirling around to face the last person he’d expected to see right then.
“Dad?!”
He smiled, hunched his shoulders a little more, hands tucked into his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You were here? I mean, when’d you-“
“Just this morning. I found out there was gonna be trouble for you two, and I came to make sure it didn’t happen the way it wants.” He stepped forward, clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder then hesitated, followed the motion through all the way into a hug that Dean accepted like he was starving for it. Sam didn’t expect the same, honestly, but when he got it anyway he teared up, held on tight and patted his dad on the back before he let him go, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
“What’re you talkin’ about dad? What’s goin’ on?”
“First things first, let me see that gun.” They looked at each other, then, and he smiled a little wider. “Yeah, I know you’ve got it. I didn’t at first, though I did hear it went missing from Daniel’s. But when I heard about the demon you killed the other night, I knew you had it. How’d you even find out about it? And what the hell made you think it was ok to steal from a fellow hunter? I mean, not that I’m not grateful we’ve got it now, but Daniel’s a good man, and he didn’t deserve that.”
“Dad, we’re sorry, but-“
“But I had heard about the gun.” Sam cut in, ignored the look Dean gave him that tried to tell him he didn’t have to handle it. “And I thought that if you were in danger when we found you, it might be something we needed to have.” It was a little disturbing how easy the lies still came, when he needed them. “Look, I know it was wrong, but I was thinkin’ about you.” And Dean. Always Dean. Before dad could start in on him again, he kept going. “So what’s going on, dad? Why’re you here? I mean, we’ve been tryin’ everything, been calling every time we needed you and we’ve gotten nothing so…”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I have to say, you boys’ve been doin’ really well. But I’ve been after it, the thing that killed your mother, and it’s dangerous, Sammy. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if I don’t get you two safe right now, because it’s a demon, and that other one you killed? She meant something to him, because he’s coming straight for you. And from what I’ve been able to gather, he’s not alone either.”
Well. Shit. This was one of those unintended consequences, like killing jackals and being overrun with snakes. Pick your poison. All things considered there was a pretty big part of him that would’ve rather faced Meg than Azazel but at the same time, if they were able to really get Azazel this time…well, that’d change everything.
“What do we do?” Dean was in full on protector mode, shoulders squared, his eyes watching their father’s every move like he was a god. Sam had seen that change come over a hundred times since he was a kid, usually right at the moment dad walked out the door and said ‘Don’t open this door for anyone, don’t answer the phone unless it rings once first, and watch out for Sammy.’.
“Right now, you get in the car. I’ll explain once we get back to the motel.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Under the circumstances not being able to touch Dean probably shouldn’t have been a concern, but it was. It had been months now they’d been traveling alone, and he wasn’t even sure if he could manage to share a bed with him and make it look remotely distant anymore. He curled around Dean unconsciously, moved into his touch rather than away from it if their arms brushed as they turned over.
So until he could find the answer to how much self control he kept while unconscious, he was staying up and letting Dean sleep. Dad was researching and he’d been trying to do the same, though for the past 20 minutes it had just been sipping coffee that did nothing to settle the way his stomach was churning. He’d been thinking over everything since dad had told them what he knew about the demon. Since he knew that he hadn’t said all he knew. It had twisted at him like barbed wire under his skin, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe this had to be equal, because even with Meg dead this was playing out too dangerously close to before. There were things he needed to get off his chest, things he needed dad to understand, things he needed to hear.
He sat the half empty styrofoam cup down and cleared his throat. “Hey, dad? Can I talk to you about something?”
Right away, he shut the book he’d been reading. Sam could(and had) say what he liked about the kind of father John Winchester had been, but even at his worst totally uncaring had never been one of those things. Even if sometimes it was hard to understand the way he showed it, for the most part, he made sense if you knew where to look.
“Course, Sammy. What’s on your mind?”
Everything. Every last goddamn thing from ‘He said I might have to kill you, Sammy!’ to ‘So, Lucifer’s wearing you to the prom’. He swallowed hard, sat forward on the end of the bed and talked quietly , his hands rubbing together. “So…this is gonna sound a lot crazy, but if I swear I’m tellin’ you the truth and I give you enough proof that I am, you promise you’ll believe me?”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to catch Sam’s eyes. “You know I will. Just tell me what’s botherin’ you.”
He laughed, short and nervous. “Ah, a lot, actually. Um…dad, I know.” Well, that needed more clarification. “About me. About…about what Azazel did.” He’d figured that whatever dad said about believing him he needed to start with a hook to get him really certain, and that was it. He’d hardly ever seen him look so taken off guard.
“Did you-“
“No, no, dad, I haven’t been goin’ through any of your stuff. I promise.” Other than breaking into the truck that once for weather patterns, but that shouldn’t count. “See, this is the part that’s gonna sound crazy, but considering you already know what he’s done to me, maybe it’ll be a little easier for you to understand.” Emphasis on the maybe. “Do you…do you even know what his endgame for all this is?” Even if he was about to tell him, he still desperately hoped the answer was a no.
He hesitated like he still couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation, or that he should be having this conversation, but he relented. “For sure, no. But I’ve got some ideas, I think…but, Sam, you don’t have to do this, ok? We don’t…we don’t know exactly what-“
“Dad, I know. Just…how do you think it ends? Please, I need to know what you think.” About me. Because deep down, that was the issue here. Was he afraid of him? Did he see him the way Gordon had, as a ticking time bomb that would have to be used in a controlled explosion if he couldn’t be diffused in a ‘reasonable’ amount of time?
In the silence, he could hear Dean breathing, slow and even and steady, and he counted 15 of them before he got his answer.
“I think you’re my son.” He reached out, a single strong, comforting hand closing for a moment over Sam’s arm before he pulled it away. “And I think he wanted to use you to start a war, and that whatever he had planned for you, it doesn’t really matter, because I’m not gonna let it happen. You understand? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Sammy. I’m not.”
If he could’ve chosen the answer he needed but wouldn’t have expected in a million years, it would’ve been something like that. After hearing it, he almost didn’t want to say any more, almost wanted to let it go and just keep those words locked away as the last ones on the subject, but he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to.
Even so, he couldn’t look up as he said it. “He does want to start a war. But it’s not really…it’s bigger than that. He wants to start the apocalypse, and he needs…” Somehow, it was almost harder saying the words to him than it was to Dean. “He needs someone with demon blood, because they need certain powers to help break some of the seals, the ones they talk about in Revelation. And when that’s done, Lucifer rises and claims his vessel. Which…” He took a deep breath, hoped like hell the words came out stronger than he felt. “Has to be a younger brother. From just the right bloodline, because his older brother, he has to be the vessel for the archangel Michael. And then…then there’s the war.”
God, if he’d thought the silence was deafening before…
“How do you know all this, Sam?”
“Because I’ve done it already. Well, most of it anyway, right up to the Lucifer part.” His eyes darted up to check the look on his face, and he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed to see that dad clearly didn’t think he was crazy. Just…right. “I ah…things were goin’ to hell, dad.” This part, this’d be the point where he couldn’t hold it together so well. “Dean was…he wasn’t even himself anymore, and I was mostly to blame, but he’d been to hell too and…” Fuck, he didn’t want to get into it all. Even if he felt like it might help, just a little. “I’d done so much wrong, dad. I…I used the powers, I did…” His voice dropped, so hushed even he could hardly hear. “I did terrible things. But in the end, I came around but it was nearly too late. I wasn’t saying yes to Lucifer, but Dean was about a month or so away from sayin’ yes to Michael, I could see it in him, and I guess I panicked. So…I went to a crossroads demon, and I made a deal, and I came back here, to do it all over. And I know-“ He could tell, he was about to light into him over the demon thing. Everyone kind of had a right, really. “-I know that sounds really crazy. But I know things I couldn’t know, I know what the house in Lawrence looked like when you were living there, cause we had to go back and stop these angels. There were the two couches across from each other in the living room and it was 1978 and you’d never met much of mom’s family.” God, he’d never seen dad so taken off guard. “But the point is I think I can stop it, and even if I can’t stop all of it, I’ve already lived through all this once. And if I could do all the wrong things that I did before and still come down to the end and sayin’ no when it mattered…then I can do much better this time around.” That was what he had to believe, at least. It felt true.
“Sam…” He rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing hard at his beard and over his eyes. This was too much to put on him, Sam knew, but he needed to. He desperately needed to. “Why are you just tellin’ me this now? If you knew-“
“Mostly, because I wanted to fix it myself. And…because it’s hard to explain, and I hated to tell either of you some of it, and there was the question of convincing you to believe me and…” But mostly, it came down to the whole ‘not wanting them to know’ thing. Because in their line of work, they could convince each other of pretty much anything.
Dad was at a loss. He looked like he wanted to yell, he did, but the shock and the weariness was weighing down the anger for once. “I’m guessing I don’t make it that far, do I?”
“You will.” He wasn’t losing him again, he wasn’t. Not yet, not when they were actually family again. “Dad, I-“
“Sam, what the hell good did you think selling your soul was gonna do? They’ve already-“
“Already got it? But see, that’s the thing, dad, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you, they don’t!” And this, this was what he wanted him to believe more than anything else. That in his soul, down deep where the blood couldn’t touch, he was just Sam. Sam Winchester. And that made all the difference in the world. “Look, you said…you said you believed in me, right? Or at least, that I’m your son, that I don’t have to be anything other than that. Well that’s what I’m gonna do. I know what I did wrong, and I know where it started, and it’s not gonna happen again. It’s not. I’m gonna do things right this time, and if I go to hell…I’ll do that right too. For as long as I can. Look, I promise, I…I’m not gonna let you down. Just trust me. Please, just trust me, I’m not…” His eyes burned, and he looked away. “Before, it was like everyone was expecting me to fail, like…like this was just my destiny and it was inevitable, but I never believed it, I never stopped believing I could change it if I wanted. That me and Dean could change it. I just…I guess I just wanna know that you think I have a chance. That you can trust me enough to believe I’ll do the right thing, that-“
“Ok.”
He stopped rambling, bit down on his tongue before he could bring himself to look up and meet his father’s gaze. His eyes were bright, and he shifted just a little closer and reached out, fingers trailing through his hair like he had when he was just a boy, hand drifting down to squeeze his shoulder.
“It’s ok, Sammy. It doesn’t matter what they say you’re supposed to do, alright? I believe you.”
The words had never sounded so good. He nodded, slid his hands over his knees and almost stood up to try and go to bed or least get back to work, but he stopped himself at the last second, one more thing still nagging at him.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Can you not tell Dean?” Because if somehow he went wrong here, God forbid if they lost him anyway and he told Dean what he had before, or if he just decided to tell him anway…no. That just couldn’t happen. He’d seen the weight of it drive Dean to just this side of suicidal before and he had no desire to see that happen again. “I’ve already told him nearly everything. He knows about my deal, about most of it, he just doesn’t know about Lucifer, about how bad things get.” About how bad he got. “And before, you told him something that wrecked him and…and I don’t wanna see him go through that again. Look, I know you expect him to look after me, and I appreciate it, I do, but this is one I’ve gotta take on my own anyway, and I can. He doesn’t need that on him, not now. So…please, just don’t tell him anything that’s gonna make him worry, ok? Please?”
He smiled, sitting back in his chair and looking over at where Dean slept, stretched out on his back in the bed by the door. “You know, when you were little, I never had to tell him much about lookin’ out for you. I’d remind him to do it, but all the ways he did it, he knew those all on his own. First few months after we left Lawrence, I couldn’t keep him from sleepin’ in your crib, cause he was sure the fire couldn’t get you if he was there.” Yeah, that sounded like Dean. The need to go to him then was nearly overpowering, a pull Sam hated to resist. “Dean’s never gonna stop worryin’ about you, Sammy. He wants to be the kind of big brother he thinks he needs to be, and I’m sure I’m part of it, but it was already in him, too. So whatever I tell him or don’t tell him, it’s not gonna change much.”
“With this, it will. I promise.” Especially after the way Dean had nearly fallen apart over the demon deal. He couldn’t find out everything else, not in the way dad would tell him. It was bad enough that he’d one day end up hearing it from Sam anyway.
“Well, I won’t tell him. I’m just sayin’, Dean’s gonna keep worrying. And he’s not an idiot. Kid reads you like a book, always has. If it’s on your mind, he’s gonna know it.”
Yeah. There was that.
Dad patted him on the shoulder, his hand lingering. “You should get some sleep, son. We gotta be focused tomorrow, ok?”
“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”
He’d just turned away when he asked his last question, voice soft and quiet.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah?”
“Before it gets that far, do we finish this son of a bitch?”
That, at least, he had a good answer for. “Yeah. We do.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
There were so many ways this was a terrible idea.
They’d done some snooping around and some examining of cloud patterns and such, and they’d found the area of town they thought he’d be in. Or at least the direction he’d come from, in any case. It was an out of the way area, and there was sure to be more than enough places out there for him to hide. That part, that all made sense. What made none whatsoever was this current plan.
“Dad, it’s insane, alright? No way you should be going out there by yourself, without the Colt much less!”
He zipped up his bag, slung it quick over his shoulder. “Sam, this is not an argument. This is not even a discussion, because I’m goin’ like it or not, and you’ll stay here with your brother like I told you already.” They stared each other down, and just like he had all his life he felt like he shrank under the iron strength of dad’s gaze. “You boys need to keep the Colt just in case, but I’m just going out scouting. Nothing I need you for, and I won’t be able to do it right if I’m worried about either of you getting caught or getting hurt. So you stay here and you find out what you can, and you wait for me to get back. Got it?”
Yeah, perfectly. Only it hadn’t magically gotten any less stupid since he’d said it a few minutes ago. “But, dad-“
“Sam.” Clearly, no argument. He crossed to the door, hefting the bag up just a little higher on his shoulder. “Dean, you both stay here and wait for me, you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. I’ll be back.”
As soon as the door shut, he turned on Dean. “Dean, this is bullshit!”
Dean sighed, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Look, man, I know you don’t like it but unless there’s some specific reason you know that you couldn’t tell him, we’ve got nothin’ and we need to stay here.”
It was just that that worried him. He had nothing. He had no precedent for this, no way of knowing how it went or what would happen next and that was infuriating. In big stakes situations like this, he’d wanted to go into them knowing everyone’s cards.
The Colt was lying on the dresser, and his eyes were drawn to it as he paced, like it was calling out to him. He was all for protecting those last 3 bullets of course, but protecting dad…that was more important. If he got himself into a mess with Azazel, if something happened because they let him go alone…
“Dude.” Dean stepped in front of him, catching his shirt and holding on. “Sam, I’m freaked too, ok? I’m scared. But we’ve gotta do what dad asked us. We’ve gotta trust him. He knows what he’s doin’, alright? He’s dad.”
There was that, sure, and Dean had always believed it was enough. Even as a man, in his eyes dad was nothing short of a superhero, invincible and strong and brave. Scary thing was, the real truth lay somewhere short of that, and Sam never wanted to watch Dean learn it. Every year since their father’s death his opinion of him had dropped, and while it was true he’d messed up a few things, watching Dean gradually lose all faith and respect for someone he’d loved so much and held so high had torn at Sam’s heart. He absolutely never wanted to see that happen again.
Sam sat down with Dean on the edge of the bed, his hands linked, thumbs tapping against his knuckles since he couldn’t pace. Hopefully, Dean was right.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
By the time 1 rolled around, Dean was starting to really worry. Sam could see it in little things, like the way he took a drink, his fingers tightening a little convulsively around his beer, and the way he couldn’t focus on anything for more than two seconds, even the journal. Especially the journal. Considering that was the one text Dean could and did read with religious attention, that was a sure sign of trouble.
Of course, that was the whole problem. Dad not being back yet, that was the real sure sign of trouble. He usually gave them a concrete time to expect him, or at the very least an estimate, but since he hadn’t known exactly what all he’d be casing, he hadn’t been entirely sure how long he’d been gone. That created an even larger problem for them now, though, because if they went looking for him and he’d still planned to be gone much longer and didn’t need them, he’d just jump all over them about following his orders. If, on the other hand, something had gone wrong…
“This isn’t right.”
Now would’ve been a cruel time to point out that’s why he’d flipped from the start. “No. It’s not.”
Dean let out a heavy breath, almost relieved, like he’d just been waiting for Sam to agree with him and ease some of the tension from his chest. From the set of his shoulders, though, most of it had stayed. “I mean, he hasn’t even called.”
“And we don’t even know where he is, which, if we’d gone with him…” He couldn’t help pointing that out, at least a little. Sam sighed, rubbed his hands over his knees, feeling fraying denim. “Ok. So, considering I think we should’ve followed him to begin with, I say we go looking. If we find him and he’s fine and he’s pissed, ok, just tell him it was my fault, because if something’s wrong, we need to be there with him.”
Dean hesitated, his hand hovering over his pocket for a moment before he whipped out his phone. “Let me just call him real quick. I know he’s not the best about answering, but just in case...”
On the third ring his face paled, and Sam already knew.
“Who the hell is this?”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam had only wanted to believe in fate selectively. Apparently, that was something you couldn’t really do. He believed it that he was meant to be with his brother, to be bound to him in every way possible but he didn’t want to believe that come hell or high water he was gonna be nothing more than Lucifer’s puppet at the end of the day. He didn’t want to believe that all the hundreds of shitty things that had happened to them over the course of their lives had been meant to happen, but now he was seriously starting to wonder.
Was everyone only allotted so much good in their life and the rest had to be borderline unbearable? Was that it, or were the Winchesters really just cursed?
He didn’t have the answers to those questions, and he was starting to think he hardly had the answers to anything else either. A lot of good it was gonna do him if most of the things he wanted to stop were just six of one half a dozen of the other. Thing was, from what Dean had told him it wasn’t Yellow Eyes on the phone, and he knew for certain with the tattoo he’d gotten at the same time they did that dad couldn’t be possessed this time around, so it was all up in the air just how this could go.
Dean did 30 over nearly all the way out to the abandoned barn, and he screeched onto the last turn, gravel flying from the tires. Sam reached over, closed his hand around his arm just above his wrist.
“Dean, slow down. They may know we’re coming but we don’t wanna advertise it.” They wouldn’t have much of an element of surprise here, so any at all that they could grab would be to their benefit. If they could even manage that at all. He closed his hand around the Colt tucked against his side under his jacket, his fingers pressing hard into the grip.
Think I’ve found something that belongs to you. Bring the gun.
Dean said he’d been short about it, terse, and Sam could’ve told him right away that that wasn’t Azazel. It wasn’t his style. If this went anything like before, though, Yellow Eyes had brought his boy in with Meg last time around. If he was angry about her death, it could stand to reason he’d send his son this time around too. Of course, there the omens to account for but Azazel had fooled them before. It could be a trick, or he could’ve barely passed through town, or he could be waiting for them there in the barn. There was just no way to know.
When they saw it up ahead Dean slowed up, and he parked on the opposite side of the street, a good enough distance that if things went crazy in there they’d still be able to get out pretty fast but not close enough that someone else was likely to drive off with the car. At least, that had been the rationale Dean had explained to Sam years ago as to why he parked it at a distance when they were going into certain situations.
We can’t let ‘em take the car, Sam. We’ve gotta look after it.
Of course.
Sam patted down his pockets, felt the tape recorder, exorcism book and the flask of holy water. The Colt was in snug against his side, the grip pressing into his ribs. Getting through this and still keeping it was going to be potentially impossible, but they could do their best. Above all else, getting dad out of there alive was priority, even if it lost them the Colt.
He shut his door a little carefully than he normally would have, even though it was pointless to go easy on the noise. He had to know they were here. Dean was focused, steady, the usual look he had when he was hunting intensified and almost wiped over by a kind of focused anger that Sam recognized all too well.
“Dean.” He looked over at him, eyebrows rising. “We’ll get him. I know we will.”
“You just be careful, alright? Look if you even think there’s no way of pulling anything else off, you just hand him the gun and we’ll go, ok?”
Well, he didn’t want to make it that easy on them. He was gonna try at least something first. “It’s alright. Just…distract him for me. Get him talking, looking away from me for a second, ok? Then I’ll give him the gun.”
The look in Dean’s eyes was pure suspicion. “What are you gonna do?”
“Something that might buy us a few seconds. C’mon, let’s go.”
Dean caught the back of his jacket as he tried to walk past, snagging him to a stop. “If you think you can leave it at that you’re crazy. What’re you gonna do?”
Even if they weren’t being watched, he didn’t want to pull it out here. “The tape recorder, the one you used when…” It was still enough of a sore memory that he couldn’t quite finish that. “You stopped at the exorcism.”
“Yeah?”
“Well that tape’s still in there, right? I snagged it out of the bag before we left, and if I play it, it doesn’t matter if it’s loud just hearing it will have an effect on him.” Sam shrugged. “He’ll probably get to it and destroy it pretty quick but…it’s something. It’s a distraction.”
He brought his hand down on Dean’s shoulder, squeezed hard and felt the familiar strong muscle under his fingers. The touch grounded them both, and he could see a little of the worry seep out of Dean’s eyes. They were halfway across to the barn before Dean spoke again, his voice low.
“I mean it, Sam, this goes south you get your ass out of here I don’t care if-“
“I’m not leaving you and dad. But if something happens, yeah, we’ll all haul ass outta here.” With any luck, though, this’d go a lot smoother than that. They opened the barn doors together, one each, and they tossed them open hard letting the late afternoon light in. The sun was almost down, the light orange and gold and just enough to reach about halfway back, to the point where their dad was tied to a rusted out tractor. He was conscious but blood was crusted on the side of his face from a clearly pretty serious wound, and it took everything Sam had not to run to him.
“Dad.” They said it at the same time, both a little breathless, and he held his head up just a little higher.
“Hey, boys.”
“I see you came.” The demon came forward out of the shadows, red hair and black eyes and a steady calculating look. “You should know, I won’t hesitate to kill your father in front of you but that’s just messy and he’d rather I avoid it, even after what you’ve done.”
“Where is he? Coward send you here cause he knew we were gonna kick your sorry ass?” Dean stalked forward to meet him, keeping himself between the demon and Sam. It just kept coming closer anyway.
“He has more important things to do. Although the death of my sister was enough to bring him to town, briefly. Enough to get your attention and realize he couldn’t let the gun stay in your hands, even if you weren’t quick enough or smart enough to get him with it.” There, they got what was almost a grin, but it didn’t take. Meg was taunting, talkative like her father but this guy…all business, and probably harder to taunt, to distract. Lovely.
“Your sister, huh? Gotta tell you, man…” Dean stepped forward just a little further, mostly blocking Sam from view. “She’s a real bitch.” Sam slipped his hand into his pocket.
“A compliment.”
He pushed play, jerking the recorder out of his pocket so the sound could emanate at least a little louder, Dean’s voice pouring from the speaker.
omnis immundus spiritus
He flinched, turning and snarling, and Sam’s fingers tightened on the recorder and held it high, holding his attention. Dean took the chance, bolting around and heading straight for dad, falling to his knees beside him in the dirt.
omnis satanica potestas
There was screaming from the tape recorder, and the demon before him stumbled as he lurched forward.
omnis incursion
He lunged forward, harder, and Sam reached into his pocket for the Colt, tossing it free and to the side. The chances that he could grab it like that were pretty decent, but if he got his hands on Sam like it looked like he was going to, he’d definitely get his hands on it. Sure enough, the demon hit him hard in the chest, driving him back, one hand going up to grip Sam’s wrist and slam his hand into the ground. His hand popped open at the sharp pain, the recorder bouncing free, and the demon grabbed it, beating it into pieces against the dirt floor.
Sam tried to scrabble in his jacket for the holy water but his hand was smacked away, the demon’s free hand then sliding up to curl around his throat. It had been awhile since a demon of this level was stronger than him, and for a moment something insidious in the back of his head told him that if he could only drink, he’d have no problems. It wouldn’t be hard, his neck was right there, but…
No. Goddammit, no, never again. Not once. He gasped, twisted, tried in vain to push him off. His throat burned.
A shot cracked off followed by the familiar crackle of electricity, and the demon slumped forward onto him, a bullet through his head. Sam shoved at him, pushing him free, and he’d hardly even started to catch his breath before Dean was there. He crouched over him, one hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other against his cheek.
“Sammy? You ok?”
He wheezed, nodded slowly, patted Dean’s arm once before pushing his hand away from his face. The hand on his shoulder stayed, and when Sam rolled over to try and find his feet Dean pulled him up, arm hooked around his shoulders. After a few more breaths he definitely didn’t need it, but he didn’t try to move away, instead leaned just a little more into his brother’s side.
“How many bullets left?”
“You’re gonna ask me that now? He was tryin’ to kill Sam and you-“
“How many bullets?”
“2.” Sam spoke up, his voice scratching only a little. “There’s 2.”
Dad held out his hand, beckoning. “Give me the gun, Dean.”
Dean’s fingers flexed around it, and he pulled it back in close to his chest. It didn’t escape Sam’s notice that he pulled him in just a little tighter too, and he hoped that dad wasn’t watching all that closely. They’d never tipped him off as far as they knew, and they were pretty damn sure they didn’t ever want to know how he’d respond if he knew what went on between them.
“No.”
“No? Dean, that’s an order, you give me the gun so I can keep it safe so when I finally find the son of a bitch that killed your mother-“
“We.” They both looked at him, and Sam tried to stand up just a little taller without letting go. “When we find him. Dad, I know you’re tryin’ to protect us, we both know that, but don’t you think we’re worried about what could happen to you, too? We’ve had that on us the whole time you’ve been gone, thinkin’ that something could happen to you without us there to watch your back and it just…it’s not right that we can’t worry about you, too. And besides, you saw what happened here. You’re the best hunter there is, but-“ He tried to wave it off, but Sam kept talking. “-even you’re not invincible, dad. And we’re weaker if they divide us, we all are.” Every single time. “You gotta believe me on this. We need to stick together, to bring this demon down together. Please.”
He took a deep breath, nodded once before he brought a hand up to rest on each of their shoulders, stabilizing. “Alright. Alright, we’ll do it together. But you’ve gotta understand something, both of you. If I give you an order, you listen, for everyone’s sakes, because if I don’t know I have control over what’s going on, I’m gonna be worried enough about both of you that that’ll make everything worse.”
“And if we’d listened to you today, you’d be dead.”
“You don’t know that, he probably would’ve-“
“Dad, please. Just…trust us a little to know what we’re doin’, ok? You taught us. We’re pretty good at all of this by now. At least…” He glanced over at Dean, tried to get his brother to crack a smile. It worked, if only just. “Most of the time. Enough to come in and save your ass every now and then.”
He smirked, laughing a little as he shook his head. “C’mon. If we’re leavin’ we don’t have any more time to waste. If he’s still in town, we’ve gotta find him.”
“You really think he is? I mean, guy over there made it sound like he was just passin’ through.” Dean shifted his weight, his fingers tightening around the collar of Sam’s jacket where his hand curled around his neck.
“No way to know until we look into it for ourselves.” He held his hand out again, something in his eyes just a little less serious than before but still making it clear he’d meant what he said. “The gun, Dean. I’m not running out on you boys, but if we get a chance at him, I’m gonna take it. No offense to either of you, but I’m still the best shot around here and we can’t afford to miss.”
For a minute, Sam flashed back to everything Dean had told him Yellow Eyes had said in the house where they’d run after Jefferson City, but it didn’t last long. The tattoo was security. This was dad and he was fine and they were getting the hell out of here and striking out somewhere else. Everything was gonna be alright.
Dean handed it over, barrel first, his fingers slow to unclench from the grip. Dad turned it over in his hand, fingers skimming over the metal before he tucked it in against his side, head jerking quick toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s go. You follow me, alright? We need to grab everything and then at the very least change rooms, even if we’re not leaving town yet. He probably doesn’t know where we’re staying but I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Dean let him go only reluctantly for the walk to the car, brushing up against him just a little on the way. Sam knew how he felt. It hadn’t been nearly as close as it could’ve been but even so, he had the desire to be as close to Dean as he could and obviously, they couldn’t be doing that for a little while.
Even different as this had played out he was still on edge with the memories of everything from before, and just before they reached the car he stopped Dean, gripping onto his jacket.
“You should drive.”
Dean looked at him like he’d started speaking Greek. “And?”
He pushed him, hand splayed against his chest and lingering there for as long as he dared. “What’s with the look? I drive sometimes.”
“Yeah...when I need to pass out. Or when you ask. Other than that, it’s my car, Sam. Of course I’m gonna drive.” He slid into the driver’s seat and Sam took the passenger side, smiling, his heart lighter already . This had been an entirely different fight in an entirely different state, but on the off chance something happened, he’d be the passenger and with dad in the truck, no one’d be in the back. If the bad luck with stopping this shit he’d had lately held and Sam died, here, no problem. Or, less of a problem. He just went downstairs a little ahead of schedule.
“I’m not trying to take her away from you, Dean. I’m pretty sure the Impala only has eyes for you.”
“You bet she does.” He gunned the ignition, Heart pouring from the speakers. “Man, I’m starving. Maybe once we figure out where we’re goin’ we can tell dad we need to stop for dinner.”
“If we’re leavin’ town we can probably hit up that same diner, get you some more pie.” It had been blueberry, and Dean had made ridiculously orgasm-like sounds while he ate it. Listening and watching him lick the fork had been torture, especially when at first Dean had been so wrapped up in the damn pie he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing. Of course, it hadn’t been much better when he had. He’d only dragged it out a little more, the swipes of his tongue across metal more pronounced, and by the time they left Sam was rock hard and ready to kill him. Or at least make him put those too fucking pretty lips to use. That one he’d managed, and he hadn’t even had to wait until they found a motel. Dean had pulled off in a deserted parking lot, stretched out on the seat and sucked him off in the car, taking him as far as he could and letting Sam’s hips jerk up into his mouth. He’d made the same obscene noises, and Sam had curled his fingers around the back of his head, his own head thrown back against the seat, too fucking hard to watch because he wouldn’t have lasted a minute if he did.
That probably wasn’t the best thing to think about just then, actually, because even if they went back, he wouldn’t be able to get a repeat performance, not with dad waiting on them to follow him. He sighed, his head resting against the window.
“You know I’m always up for pie. Course…” He looked over out of the corner of his eye, voice dropping a little. “Sucking you off in that parking lot, that was pretty good too. But if I have to pick one-“
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“You love my ass.”
“Would you just drive?”
“What, so driving and talking are mutually exclusive now? I see how it is. See, that just enforces why the pie’s such a better choice.”
“Are we talking in general, or just as something to stick in your mouth? Because if it’s in general, you can try living with it for a few weeks and I’ll watch and see how you two are getting along, how’s that sound?”
The cement truck hit from the driver’s side, and everything went black.
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Master post is here.