Fic: Cold Oak, Cold Blood
Title: Cold Oak, Cold Blood
Author: zubeneschamali
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen
Word count: 3200
Summary: Written for spn_j2_xmas for this prompt: In AHBL back in S2, Sam wins the demon blood kids match-off fair and square and is the last one standing when Dean and Bobby come running. What happens next?
A/N: Happy holidays to stardustdean! Your prompt about an alternate ending to AHBL really got stuck in my head, though it took me a while to figure out what to do with it. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy! Many thanks to iwinsoiwin and ashtraythief for the encouragement, and to iwinsoiwin for the beta reading.
Out of the corner of his eye as he ran, arms pumping and heart pounding, Dean saw the bell from his vision or whatever the hell that had been. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were in the right place. Now all they had to do was get there in time.
In the distance, he saw two tall figures fighting, and he increased his speed. Bobby had to be half a block behind him at this point, but Dean didn't care. He had to get to Sam.
Sam took a hard blow from the shorter figure that made Dean wince. The way Sam staggered back from that punch was not natural; this guy had to be hopped up on something.
But Sam came up swinging, literally. He had an iron rod or something in one hand, and he landed a blow that knocked the other guy on his ass, out cold.
"Atta boy, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath, easing off his pace just a bit as he saw Sam was no longer in immediate danger.
Then, to his horror, he saw Sam pick up a knife from the ground and advance on the unconscious man. Sam knelt beside him and raised his arm, pausing for a moment with the knife high over his head.
Just as Dean shouted, "No, Sam!" he drove the blade downward.
And then he did it again.
Dean's blood ran cold, and he stumbled as he ran. He glanced over his shoulder to see Bobby just rounding the corner, well behind him. Thank God he hadn't seen it. "Sam, what the fuck?" he shouted as he came closer.
Sam was standing up, scrubbing his hands on his jeans as if trying to wipe away what he'd done. He whirled around at Dean's shout, hands held up defensively. As soon as he recognized Dean, his expression melted into relief for only an instant before turning wary and watchful.
Dean came to a halt in front of his brother, glancing down at the dead man. He looked like he was probably Sam's age, African-American, in Army fatigues and with a knife sticking out of his gut. "Sam, what the hell is going on here?"
"I had another vision last night. I saw-" Sam broke off, putting the back of his hand to his mouth like he was trying to hold back nausea. "I didn't have a choice, Dean."
Dean shook his head. "Sam, how can you trust those visions?"
"Jake killed me." Sam was pointing at the corpse at his feet. "He stabbed me in the back, right as you showed up. And I died, Dean. I died right here in your arms."
Dean retorted, "You've never had visions about yourself. Ava was the one who saw Gordon blowing you up, not you."
"I felt it. I felt the knife go in, and I felt it sever my spinal cord, and then everything went black."
Dean was still breathing hard from his run and from seeing Sam kill a man in cold blood, and Sam's words were painting a terrifying picture that his brain shied away from. But he suddenly realized what he was hearing: there was a way out of this. "Okay, so it was him or you, right? That's what you're telling me?"
Sam's face was pale in the dim light of the moon. "That wasn't all, Dean. In the vision…you sold your soul for me. And they brought me back, but they gave you a year. And then you-I couldn't save you. You went to Hell. And what I saw there…" Sam put the back of his hand to his mouth again, looking again like he was going to be sick.
Dean's gut churned, not because of what Sam wasn't saying about Hell, but because he knew deep down that it was what he would do. If Sam died in front of him like that-there was nothing he wouldn't do to get him back. He might not completely trust these visions of Sam's, but this one rang true.
From the still-wary expression on Sam's face, he knew it, too. "Dean, I had to do it. When the yellow-eyed demon had us trapped in that cabin, and Dad told me to kill it, and I didn't…if I'd known what was going to happen later, I would have done it. The demon would be dead, and you'd never have gotten hurt, and Dad would still have his soul."
"Yeah, but he'd be dead!" Dean shot back.
"He's dead anyway! And he's in-" Sam broke off, face going even paler. When he went on, his voice was lower. "This was different. This time, I knew what would happen if I didn't kill Jake. I had to do it, Dean. I had to make the hard choice."
"What in the hell is going on here?" Bobby demanded as he finally caught up with Dean.
Sam instantly put on his puppy dog eyes. "It was the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Bobby. He brought all of us here in some kind of showdown. Ava and Andy, and a couple of people I'd never met before."
"Ava? She's here? Is she okay?" Dean asked.
Sam let out a snort. "She changed, Dean. She…turned, I guess you could say. She gave into the power, and it changed her. She killed Andy, and she would have killed us, too."
Now it was Dean who felt like he was nauseous. This was what he had been afraid of for Sam for the past year, and it had played out right here in this dead town. "But you're okay? You're not…you didn't…"
A flicker of hurt flashed across Sam's face. "I'm fine, Dean. Do you want to douse me with holy water to make sure?"
"Wouldn't hurt." Bobby was already holding out his flask. "It's happened before."
Dean wanted to protest that they'd gotten the tattoos and Sam couldn't be possessed again, but Sam was already grabbing the flask and unscrewing the cap. He held the flask up to his lips, and for just a second, Dean held his breath, hating himself even as he did it.
Then Sam was swallowing and lowering the flask, glaring at Bobby. "Are we good?"
"Oh, I'd say we're excellent," came a voice from behind them
Dean whirled around, reaching for his gun. When he saw the demon standing there, he drew a bead on him even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. "Stay away from Sam, you son of a bitch."
"Dean-o. You know that can't hurt me," the Yellow-Eyed Demon drawled. "Only this can."
And he held up the Colt, dangling off his finger by the trigger guard.
"Son of a-" Dean aimed more closely. Maybe he could at least shoot it out of his hand, and if Sam could move fast enough-
Then Dean realized he was frozen in place. From the muttered curse behind him, he figured Bobby was, too. Only Sam was turning his head, and then his whole body, to face their enemy.
"Sam, I've gotta say, I'm glad it was you." The demon grinned as he stuck the Colt in the front of his waistband. "Told you you were my favorite. Wasn't sure you had it in you, but I really liked how you stuck it to Jake in the end. Weren't going to let him off easy, were you?"
"Let them go," Sam said, pointing at Dean and Bobby. "Whatever you want from me, leave them out of it."
"Hm, we'll see." The demon came closer to Sam, and even though he was looking up at Sam, he was clearly the one commanding all the power. "I just need you to do something for me first."
"Whatever it is, Sam, tell him to stuff it," Dean snapped.
The demon went on as if Dean hadn't spoken. "It'll help you out, too, Sammy."
Sam folded his arms across his chest. "I can't think of anything you have that I would want."
Tapping the gun at his waist, the demon asked, "You know how I got this, don't you?"
Dean growled low in his throat.
Sam's shoulders were tense, and his voice was tight as he said, "You took that from our dad."
"Ah, ah, ah, I didn't take anything. He offered it as part of our deal. And you know what else was part of that deal, don't you?" The demon's gaze flickered to Dean, and Dean had never wanted to kill something so badly in his life.
Sam's voice was like gravel as he spoke. "His soul."
"That's right, Sammy. Now…." The demon drew out the word and then gave Sam a conspiratorial smile. "What if I told you there was a way to get him out?"
Sam glanced at Dean, something like hope flickering in his eyes. "I'm listening."
"Damn it, Sam, don't-"
A gesture from the demon, and Dean couldn't speak a word. "There's a gate, not far from here. All I need you to do is open it."
"A gate to what?" Sam asked warily.
"To Hell, Sam, where do you think? All you have to do is wait for your father to sneak out, and you can shut it again."
"And who else is going to sneak out in the meantime? How many demons?" Sam demanded.
Dean silently cheered his brother for asking the important questions.
The yellow-eyed demon shrugged. "A few. Depends how fast your old man is. That's not the point."
Sam's narrowed eyes indicated he didn't believe a word of it, but he was still asking, "And how am I supposed to open this gate? Why can't you do it?"
"It's unfortunately well-protected from folks like me. But as for how-" The demon held up the Colt. "You have no idea all of the uses this thing can have."
Sam's gaze turned more calculating, and Dean thought, Atta boy.
"By the way, your brother and the old man will be coming with us. And if you think about doing anything with this gun other than using it as a key, they'll be dead before they hit the ground."
Dean could see the long line of Sam's throat move as he swallowed, and he was afraid they had lost. He strained and managed to croak out, "Sam, don't."
Sam turned towards him, eyes wide. "Dean, I have to do this."
The pressure on Dean's throat suddenly released, and he burst out, "The fuck you do! You can't open a gate to Hell, Sam!"
"If Dad is in there-" Sam drew in a deep breath. "The things I saw in my vision, you can't even imagine. It's my fault he's there in the first place. If I'd just been strong enough to do what he asked…" He trailed off as if remembering the demon he would have killed was standing in front of them.
The demon chuckled. "Water under the bridge, Sam. But you can fix it now. You can get him out. Why, he doesn't belong there any more than Dean here does."
Dean's gut went cold. The demon had sent the visions to Sam, he was sure of it. "Sam, you can't trust a word he says. Whatever he wants you to do, just say no."
Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between Dean and the demon. Finally, he said, "I need more information. What do you get out of this? Besides a bunch of demons wandering around topside?"
The demon's eyes narrowed. "I guess I haven't made myself clear. This isn't a choice I'm offering you, Sam. This is something you're going to do. One way or another."
He looked at Dean, and Dean had just a moment to recognize the murderous intent in his yellow eyes, and fear shot down his spine.
Then Dean felt a searing pain in the back of his neck, and everything suddenly went dark.
When Dean came to, he heard Sam's voice chanting his name, over and over again, above a dull roar in the background. He opened his eyes to find his face pressed up against Sam's shoulder and Sam's arms holding him tight. His neck ached, and the first breath he drew felt raspy, like he had a sore throat.
"Dean?" Instantly, Sam drew back, holding Dean's shoulders in his giant paws. "Dean, is that-are you-are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm-" Dean broke off to cough a few times. "I'm okay, Sam. What happened?"
"Holy shit. You-" Sam suddenly pulled him into an embrace, smushing Dean's face against his shoulder. "You're okay, Dean. You're okay."
Dean was starting to get a bad feeling about this. "Sam, what the hell happened?"
"I'll explain everything. Just-just trust me, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Dean said automatically.
"Good." Sam let him go, and for a moment, Dean recognized that look on his brother's face. He'd seen it after Max Miller, and plenty of other times they'd talked about Sam using his powers. It was shame and fear and determination all in one, and Dean held his breath, waiting for what was next.
They were sitting on the grass in a graveyard, Dean realized. And the roar he'd heard earlier was coming from a cave a hundred yards away, where streams of black smoke were shooting out into the air. Fear slithered down his spine. "Sam, what did you-"
He broke off as Sam reached out a hand towards the open gate. The demon was standing in front of it, arms upraised, looking almost like he was greeting old friends as they passed by. Dean's lip curled as he reached for a gun that he knew would be useless.
Sam, though. Sam was reaching out for the Colt, which Dean now realized was embedded in the door of the gate. The gun twisted in its place, and then it flew across the distance into Sam's hand, landing with a solid thump.
The demon whirled around, anger suddenly distorting his face. He started to speak, but Sam was already leveling the gun. "This is for Jess, you son of a bitch!" Sam shouted.
Then he pulled the trigger.
As if in slow motion, Dean saw the bullet fired from the Colt fly straight and true into the yellow-eyed demon's forehead. He staggered back, shock all over his face. Lightning crackled around him, and then the light grew so bright that Dean had to look away.
When the light vanished, so had the demon. Dean looked around wildly, but there was no trace of it. Dad was right, he thought as he looked at the Colt. It really can kill anything.
Sam lowered the gun to his side, panting for breath. He dropped his head, shoulders slumping. "I did it," he muttered. "Dad, I did it."
Across the graveyard, Ellen and Bobby were shoving the heavy doors of the gate closed, a few lucky demons slipping out in the process. Dean knew he should go and help, but he had to understand what had happened here. Putting a hand on Sam's shoulder, he asked more gently than he had before, "Sam, what'd I miss?"
Sam let out a snort, followed by a sniffle. "Dean, you-he knew what it would take to get me to open the gate. And he did it."
Dean's hand went up to the back of his neck, a cold chill passing over him as he realized what that quick, terrible pain had been. "Sam, please tell me you didn't make a deal."
"In a manner of speaking. Not for my soul, but-" Sam gestured up into the air. "There must be thousands of demons out there now. He made me wait after I opened the gate. Said it was to be sure that Dad got out, and I did see him just for a minute, but he wouldn't-" Letting out a deep sigh, Sam said, "He didn't bring you back until he said he had enough."
"Enough for what?" Dean demanded.
"I don't know."
"And the-?" Dean reached out his hand towards the gate like Sam had done. "What's up with that?"
Sam briefly pressed his lips together. When he started speaking, it was lower and faster, the faintest tremble in his voice. "It's like a switch flipped. I was so scared, and I tried to stop him, but he moved so fast. He just-your neck snapped, Dean, and then something in me snapped, and it was like all these things opened up inside of me. But I didn't tell him. I didn't say a word. I probably could have killed him right there, but I had to wait. I had to do what he said so he would bring you back."
Dean's stomach sank. "Sam, you shouldn't have done that. I'm not worth it, all of those demons out there in the world."
"Don't you ever say that!" Sam demanded. "You're worth anything, Dean. I couldn't-you died, right there in front of me. There was nothing I wouldn't do to fix it."
"And what about this?" Dean asked, gesturing at the sky. "How are we going to fix this?"
Sam set his jaw. "I can sense them. Each one of them. It'll take time, but we can hunt them down. I can tell other hunters where to go. We can exorcise them all, one at a time."
Dean kind of doubted that other hunters would take pinpoint directions from Sam Winchester about where to find demons, but he kept that to himself for now. "I still don't think you should have done it."
"You'd have done the same thing in my place. Hell, you did worse in my vision, selling your own soul. And the yellow-eyed demon is dead, Dean. Whatever he wanted from me, it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone."
"Yeah, there is that." Dean clapped him on the shoulder, determined to put a good face on it, at least for now. "That was some nice shooting there, bro."
"There was no way I was going to miss," Sam said with steel in his voice.
Dean wasn't sure if Sam meant that the shot was that important, or that he'd used one of those things that had opened up inside of him, and Dean wasn't about to ask. "Well, help me up, and let's see if we can exorcise a few of those black-eyed bastards who are still in range."
The rush of relief on Sam's face made him look like a little kid for a second, and Dean found himself smiling back in reassurance. Sure, there were demons flying around all over the place, and rounding them up wasn't likely to be anywhere near as easy as Sam seemed to think it would be, and the Roadhouse and Ash were still gone.
But for the first time since Sam disappeared from the diner, Dean thought that maybe things were going to be okay. They were safe, and together, and they could figure out the rest.
As they rose to their feet, Dean was sure that the flash of yellow in Sam's eyes was just a trick of the light. It had to be.
Author: zubeneschamali
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gen
Word count: 3200
Summary: Written for spn_j2_xmas for this prompt: In AHBL back in S2, Sam wins the demon blood kids match-off fair and square and is the last one standing when Dean and Bobby come running. What happens next?
A/N: Happy holidays to stardustdean! Your prompt about an alternate ending to AHBL really got stuck in my head, though it took me a while to figure out what to do with it. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy! Many thanks to iwinsoiwin and ashtraythief for the encouragement, and to iwinsoiwin for the beta reading.
Out of the corner of his eye as he ran, arms pumping and heart pounding, Dean saw the bell from his vision or whatever the hell that had been. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were in the right place. Now all they had to do was get there in time.
In the distance, he saw two tall figures fighting, and he increased his speed. Bobby had to be half a block behind him at this point, but Dean didn't care. He had to get to Sam.
Sam took a hard blow from the shorter figure that made Dean wince. The way Sam staggered back from that punch was not natural; this guy had to be hopped up on something.
But Sam came up swinging, literally. He had an iron rod or something in one hand, and he landed a blow that knocked the other guy on his ass, out cold.
"Atta boy, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath, easing off his pace just a bit as he saw Sam was no longer in immediate danger.
Then, to his horror, he saw Sam pick up a knife from the ground and advance on the unconscious man. Sam knelt beside him and raised his arm, pausing for a moment with the knife high over his head.
Just as Dean shouted, "No, Sam!" he drove the blade downward.
And then he did it again.
Dean's blood ran cold, and he stumbled as he ran. He glanced over his shoulder to see Bobby just rounding the corner, well behind him. Thank God he hadn't seen it. "Sam, what the fuck?" he shouted as he came closer.
Sam was standing up, scrubbing his hands on his jeans as if trying to wipe away what he'd done. He whirled around at Dean's shout, hands held up defensively. As soon as he recognized Dean, his expression melted into relief for only an instant before turning wary and watchful.
Dean came to a halt in front of his brother, glancing down at the dead man. He looked like he was probably Sam's age, African-American, in Army fatigues and with a knife sticking out of his gut. "Sam, what the hell is going on here?"
"I had another vision last night. I saw-" Sam broke off, putting the back of his hand to his mouth like he was trying to hold back nausea. "I didn't have a choice, Dean."
Dean shook his head. "Sam, how can you trust those visions?"
"Jake killed me." Sam was pointing at the corpse at his feet. "He stabbed me in the back, right as you showed up. And I died, Dean. I died right here in your arms."
Dean retorted, "You've never had visions about yourself. Ava was the one who saw Gordon blowing you up, not you."
"I felt it. I felt the knife go in, and I felt it sever my spinal cord, and then everything went black."
Dean was still breathing hard from his run and from seeing Sam kill a man in cold blood, and Sam's words were painting a terrifying picture that his brain shied away from. But he suddenly realized what he was hearing: there was a way out of this. "Okay, so it was him or you, right? That's what you're telling me?"
Sam's face was pale in the dim light of the moon. "That wasn't all, Dean. In the vision…you sold your soul for me. And they brought me back, but they gave you a year. And then you-I couldn't save you. You went to Hell. And what I saw there…" Sam put the back of his hand to his mouth again, looking again like he was going to be sick.
Dean's gut churned, not because of what Sam wasn't saying about Hell, but because he knew deep down that it was what he would do. If Sam died in front of him like that-there was nothing he wouldn't do to get him back. He might not completely trust these visions of Sam's, but this one rang true.
From the still-wary expression on Sam's face, he knew it, too. "Dean, I had to do it. When the yellow-eyed demon had us trapped in that cabin, and Dad told me to kill it, and I didn't…if I'd known what was going to happen later, I would have done it. The demon would be dead, and you'd never have gotten hurt, and Dad would still have his soul."
"Yeah, but he'd be dead!" Dean shot back.
"He's dead anyway! And he's in-" Sam broke off, face going even paler. When he went on, his voice was lower. "This was different. This time, I knew what would happen if I didn't kill Jake. I had to do it, Dean. I had to make the hard choice."
"What in the hell is going on here?" Bobby demanded as he finally caught up with Dean.
Sam instantly put on his puppy dog eyes. "It was the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Bobby. He brought all of us here in some kind of showdown. Ava and Andy, and a couple of people I'd never met before."
"Ava? She's here? Is she okay?" Dean asked.
Sam let out a snort. "She changed, Dean. She…turned, I guess you could say. She gave into the power, and it changed her. She killed Andy, and she would have killed us, too."
Now it was Dean who felt like he was nauseous. This was what he had been afraid of for Sam for the past year, and it had played out right here in this dead town. "But you're okay? You're not…you didn't…"
A flicker of hurt flashed across Sam's face. "I'm fine, Dean. Do you want to douse me with holy water to make sure?"
"Wouldn't hurt." Bobby was already holding out his flask. "It's happened before."
Dean wanted to protest that they'd gotten the tattoos and Sam couldn't be possessed again, but Sam was already grabbing the flask and unscrewing the cap. He held the flask up to his lips, and for just a second, Dean held his breath, hating himself even as he did it.
Then Sam was swallowing and lowering the flask, glaring at Bobby. "Are we good?"
"Oh, I'd say we're excellent," came a voice from behind them
Dean whirled around, reaching for his gun. When he saw the demon standing there, he drew a bead on him even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. "Stay away from Sam, you son of a bitch."
"Dean-o. You know that can't hurt me," the Yellow-Eyed Demon drawled. "Only this can."
And he held up the Colt, dangling off his finger by the trigger guard.
"Son of a-" Dean aimed more closely. Maybe he could at least shoot it out of his hand, and if Sam could move fast enough-
Then Dean realized he was frozen in place. From the muttered curse behind him, he figured Bobby was, too. Only Sam was turning his head, and then his whole body, to face their enemy.
"Sam, I've gotta say, I'm glad it was you." The demon grinned as he stuck the Colt in the front of his waistband. "Told you you were my favorite. Wasn't sure you had it in you, but I really liked how you stuck it to Jake in the end. Weren't going to let him off easy, were you?"
"Let them go," Sam said, pointing at Dean and Bobby. "Whatever you want from me, leave them out of it."
"Hm, we'll see." The demon came closer to Sam, and even though he was looking up at Sam, he was clearly the one commanding all the power. "I just need you to do something for me first."
"Whatever it is, Sam, tell him to stuff it," Dean snapped.
The demon went on as if Dean hadn't spoken. "It'll help you out, too, Sammy."
Sam folded his arms across his chest. "I can't think of anything you have that I would want."
Tapping the gun at his waist, the demon asked, "You know how I got this, don't you?"
Dean growled low in his throat.
Sam's shoulders were tense, and his voice was tight as he said, "You took that from our dad."
"Ah, ah, ah, I didn't take anything. He offered it as part of our deal. And you know what else was part of that deal, don't you?" The demon's gaze flickered to Dean, and Dean had never wanted to kill something so badly in his life.
Sam's voice was like gravel as he spoke. "His soul."
"That's right, Sammy. Now…." The demon drew out the word and then gave Sam a conspiratorial smile. "What if I told you there was a way to get him out?"
Sam glanced at Dean, something like hope flickering in his eyes. "I'm listening."
"Damn it, Sam, don't-"
A gesture from the demon, and Dean couldn't speak a word. "There's a gate, not far from here. All I need you to do is open it."
"A gate to what?" Sam asked warily.
"To Hell, Sam, where do you think? All you have to do is wait for your father to sneak out, and you can shut it again."
"And who else is going to sneak out in the meantime? How many demons?" Sam demanded.
Dean silently cheered his brother for asking the important questions.
The yellow-eyed demon shrugged. "A few. Depends how fast your old man is. That's not the point."
Sam's narrowed eyes indicated he didn't believe a word of it, but he was still asking, "And how am I supposed to open this gate? Why can't you do it?"
"It's unfortunately well-protected from folks like me. But as for how-" The demon held up the Colt. "You have no idea all of the uses this thing can have."
Sam's gaze turned more calculating, and Dean thought, Atta boy.
"By the way, your brother and the old man will be coming with us. And if you think about doing anything with this gun other than using it as a key, they'll be dead before they hit the ground."
Dean could see the long line of Sam's throat move as he swallowed, and he was afraid they had lost. He strained and managed to croak out, "Sam, don't."
Sam turned towards him, eyes wide. "Dean, I have to do this."
The pressure on Dean's throat suddenly released, and he burst out, "The fuck you do! You can't open a gate to Hell, Sam!"
"If Dad is in there-" Sam drew in a deep breath. "The things I saw in my vision, you can't even imagine. It's my fault he's there in the first place. If I'd just been strong enough to do what he asked…" He trailed off as if remembering the demon he would have killed was standing in front of them.
The demon chuckled. "Water under the bridge, Sam. But you can fix it now. You can get him out. Why, he doesn't belong there any more than Dean here does."
Dean's gut went cold. The demon had sent the visions to Sam, he was sure of it. "Sam, you can't trust a word he says. Whatever he wants you to do, just say no."
Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between Dean and the demon. Finally, he said, "I need more information. What do you get out of this? Besides a bunch of demons wandering around topside?"
The demon's eyes narrowed. "I guess I haven't made myself clear. This isn't a choice I'm offering you, Sam. This is something you're going to do. One way or another."
He looked at Dean, and Dean had just a moment to recognize the murderous intent in his yellow eyes, and fear shot down his spine.
Then Dean felt a searing pain in the back of his neck, and everything suddenly went dark.
When Dean came to, he heard Sam's voice chanting his name, over and over again, above a dull roar in the background. He opened his eyes to find his face pressed up against Sam's shoulder and Sam's arms holding him tight. His neck ached, and the first breath he drew felt raspy, like he had a sore throat.
"Dean?" Instantly, Sam drew back, holding Dean's shoulders in his giant paws. "Dean, is that-are you-are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm-" Dean broke off to cough a few times. "I'm okay, Sam. What happened?"
"Holy shit. You-" Sam suddenly pulled him into an embrace, smushing Dean's face against his shoulder. "You're okay, Dean. You're okay."
Dean was starting to get a bad feeling about this. "Sam, what the hell happened?"
"I'll explain everything. Just-just trust me, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Dean said automatically.
"Good." Sam let him go, and for a moment, Dean recognized that look on his brother's face. He'd seen it after Max Miller, and plenty of other times they'd talked about Sam using his powers. It was shame and fear and determination all in one, and Dean held his breath, waiting for what was next.
They were sitting on the grass in a graveyard, Dean realized. And the roar he'd heard earlier was coming from a cave a hundred yards away, where streams of black smoke were shooting out into the air. Fear slithered down his spine. "Sam, what did you-"
He broke off as Sam reached out a hand towards the open gate. The demon was standing in front of it, arms upraised, looking almost like he was greeting old friends as they passed by. Dean's lip curled as he reached for a gun that he knew would be useless.
Sam, though. Sam was reaching out for the Colt, which Dean now realized was embedded in the door of the gate. The gun twisted in its place, and then it flew across the distance into Sam's hand, landing with a solid thump.
The demon whirled around, anger suddenly distorting his face. He started to speak, but Sam was already leveling the gun. "This is for Jess, you son of a bitch!" Sam shouted.
Then he pulled the trigger.
As if in slow motion, Dean saw the bullet fired from the Colt fly straight and true into the yellow-eyed demon's forehead. He staggered back, shock all over his face. Lightning crackled around him, and then the light grew so bright that Dean had to look away.
When the light vanished, so had the demon. Dean looked around wildly, but there was no trace of it. Dad was right, he thought as he looked at the Colt. It really can kill anything.
Sam lowered the gun to his side, panting for breath. He dropped his head, shoulders slumping. "I did it," he muttered. "Dad, I did it."
Across the graveyard, Ellen and Bobby were shoving the heavy doors of the gate closed, a few lucky demons slipping out in the process. Dean knew he should go and help, but he had to understand what had happened here. Putting a hand on Sam's shoulder, he asked more gently than he had before, "Sam, what'd I miss?"
Sam let out a snort, followed by a sniffle. "Dean, you-he knew what it would take to get me to open the gate. And he did it."
Dean's hand went up to the back of his neck, a cold chill passing over him as he realized what that quick, terrible pain had been. "Sam, please tell me you didn't make a deal."
"In a manner of speaking. Not for my soul, but-" Sam gestured up into the air. "There must be thousands of demons out there now. He made me wait after I opened the gate. Said it was to be sure that Dad got out, and I did see him just for a minute, but he wouldn't-" Letting out a deep sigh, Sam said, "He didn't bring you back until he said he had enough."
"Enough for what?" Dean demanded.
"I don't know."
"And the-?" Dean reached out his hand towards the gate like Sam had done. "What's up with that?"
Sam briefly pressed his lips together. When he started speaking, it was lower and faster, the faintest tremble in his voice. "It's like a switch flipped. I was so scared, and I tried to stop him, but he moved so fast. He just-your neck snapped, Dean, and then something in me snapped, and it was like all these things opened up inside of me. But I didn't tell him. I didn't say a word. I probably could have killed him right there, but I had to wait. I had to do what he said so he would bring you back."
Dean's stomach sank. "Sam, you shouldn't have done that. I'm not worth it, all of those demons out there in the world."
"Don't you ever say that!" Sam demanded. "You're worth anything, Dean. I couldn't-you died, right there in front of me. There was nothing I wouldn't do to fix it."
"And what about this?" Dean asked, gesturing at the sky. "How are we going to fix this?"
Sam set his jaw. "I can sense them. Each one of them. It'll take time, but we can hunt them down. I can tell other hunters where to go. We can exorcise them all, one at a time."
Dean kind of doubted that other hunters would take pinpoint directions from Sam Winchester about where to find demons, but he kept that to himself for now. "I still don't think you should have done it."
"You'd have done the same thing in my place. Hell, you did worse in my vision, selling your own soul. And the yellow-eyed demon is dead, Dean. Whatever he wanted from me, it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone."
"Yeah, there is that." Dean clapped him on the shoulder, determined to put a good face on it, at least for now. "That was some nice shooting there, bro."
"There was no way I was going to miss," Sam said with steel in his voice.
Dean wasn't sure if Sam meant that the shot was that important, or that he'd used one of those things that had opened up inside of him, and Dean wasn't about to ask. "Well, help me up, and let's see if we can exorcise a few of those black-eyed bastards who are still in range."
The rush of relief on Sam's face made him look like a little kid for a second, and Dean found himself smiling back in reassurance. Sure, there were demons flying around all over the place, and rounding them up wasn't likely to be anywhere near as easy as Sam seemed to think it would be, and the Roadhouse and Ash were still gone.
But for the first time since Sam disappeared from the diner, Dean thought that maybe things were going to be okay. They were safe, and together, and they could figure out the rest.
As they rose to their feet, Dean was sure that the flash of yellow in Sam's eyes was just a trick of the light. It had to be.