Revenge of the Jedi, Part 3/3 (complete) SPN
Title: Revenge of the Jedi, Part 3/3 (complete)
Author: borgmama1of5
Summary: Dean’s lost the Mark, doesn’t remember what he’s done … yet he’s still haunted.
Wordcount: 11,600 parts 2 & 3, 14,600 total
Genre/pairings: Gen
Rating: R
Spoilers: through 9.16 Mention of Major character death
Beta: sandymg
Disclaimer: Not mine, simply engaging in wish fulfillment.
Revenge of the Jedi, Part 1
Revenge of the Jedi, Part 2
***
Sam pulls the grisly weapon from Dean's lax fingers and throws it across the room.
"C'mon, Dean!" he breaths as he feels for a pulse.
Faint ... slow ...but still alive ...
“I need to tie this around him. When I lift him, you hold him up.” He feels Gadreel’s hesitation, then the angel kneels next to Dean’s head.
As he ties his shirt across Dean’s abdomen, Sam wonders how many organs the Blade has sliced.
“I have to get him to a hospital. You’re going to help me get him to the car.”
“Sam …”
“Don’t tell me he’s not going to make it! I’m not letting my brother die after all this! Now help me pick him up!”
Gadreel lifts Dean’s legs as Sam carefully wraps his arms around Dean’s upper half and they maneuver Dean’s body to the Impala and into the back seat. Sam sees the improvised bandage is already dark with blood.
This can’t be happening.
As he starts the engine he gives Gadreel, who is standing silently by the rear door, a final order.
“Take that damn Blade and destroy it!”
“I cannot. It is beyond my breaking.”
“Well then, get rid of it somewhere it can never be found! Use your angel powers to put it on the moon, or shove it in another dimension! And you listen for me, if I call you, you come, you understand? You owe me. Us. You owe both of us, you got that?”
Sam doesn’t wait for Gadreel’s answer as he peels the car out of the gravel lot and onto the street.
***
Dean does not know how long he has been cowering in the hallway hiding his eyes from the images he cannot bear … but even with his face tucked in his arms he cannot escape the sounds echoing around him - angry voices, accusations, and screams, so many anguished screams from under his hands in Hell … as the cries rise in intensity Dean covers his ears but that does not stop his brain from hearing them and it is harder and harder to breathe, he is drowning in his failures but they do not stop …
Suddenly a garbled yell is torn from his own throat and he staggers to his feet and slams his fists into the nearest wall.
“I tried, I tried, I tried!” he sobs as the mirrors shatter under his pounding and the razor-sharp splinters slice his knuckles.
His next punch swings through air and he realizes that he has broken through the glass wall. Frantic with the possibility of escape he slams and kicks until he can fit himself through an opening, oblivious to the lacerations rewarding his efforts.
He is free … inside a gray cloud.
He looks behind, but the prison he just fled is gone.
The nothingness is worse.
Dean fights to remain standing, the compulsion to give up, to lie down and surrender, is strong. He wonders why he is still fighting, what he is trying to find.
He walks. Blood is dripping from his hands, his arms, red stains the slashes in his shirts, his jeans. His footsteps make no sound.
He is seized with the impulse to break the silence. He takes a deep breath, and challenges the fog.
“I’m here, mother-fucker! You want me, come and get me!”
Nothing. The sound is simply absorbed, vanishes.
His breath hitches. If he is dead, why is he still breathing? With that thought his chest stops moving, he stops needing air.
He is dead, then. And this is his afterlife - not Heaven, mercifully not Hell - just nothingness.
Alone forever.
But this is what he deserves, right?
He ceases to think.
***
Sam has paced a year’s worth of wear in the waiting room’s carpet. Dean has been in surgery for over five hours.
He can’t live with the thought that Dean could die thinking Sam didn’t care. Would die thinking his life meant so little. That his death was a good thing.
***
The air shifts and there is a human-shaped shadow in front of him … the mist parts and Krissy is standing there.
“Hello, Dean.”
He still doesn’t remember doing it, but he is sure he is why Krissy is dead. His non-beating heart freezes.
“Cat got your tongue, Dean? You always have something to say.”
He makes the words come out.
“I’m sorry, Krissy. I’m just … so sorry.” His throat burns as he speaks.
“Yeah, I know. Sucks. Thought I’d live forever … or at least till twenty-five. But … guess not.”
Dean can’t think of anything to say, but Krissy continues after a brief silence.
“So what happened there? Were you possessed? Where was Sam, why didn’t he stop you?”
She says it all conversationally, like she’s indulging in idle curiosity, not asking why Dean murdered her.
“There was a weapon, a … kind of knife, the First Blade, that we needed to, um, kill a really bad demon … but the person who used it had to get marked and I didn’t know what would happen to me when I did it, but I should have and I …” he trails off. He can’t defend himself.
“So you’re saying that this blade took you over, like demon possession?”
“No … I should’ve been able to stop it …” It just set free what was already in him, Dean wants to confess, but he can’t say that to her.
"Aiden must have taken it hard ... I mean, I don't know if we had a future future ... but we were, well ..."
"I'm so sorry, Krissy." Dean swipes his hand across his face. "I never wanted ... It shouldn't have happened."
"It's just pretty boring, being dead and stuck here ... If I'd just gone right to Heaven, I could be with my dad and mom again ..." She looks at him uncertainly. "I mean probably, right? Somebody like me could go there, right?"
"If anyone should go to Heaven it sh--" he stops as another form takes solidity in the fog.
"Hi, Dean."
"Kevin? What are you doing here? Why aren't you with your mom?"
"Sometimes a guy needs a little alone time, you know." Kevin turns to Krissy, who is looking at him curiously. "I'm Kevin."
"Krissy."
"You must be another dead friend of the Winchesters ... we could have quite a party if we gathered together everyone who’s gotten killed because of them.”
“Kevin …”
“I know, you never meant it to happen. Good intentions, collateral damage.”
Dean half-turns in reaction to the bitterness in Kevin’s words.”
“Do you really think that he doesn’t care about the ‘collateral damage?’” Krissy glares at Kevin. “I don’t know what your beef is, but he’s saved a lot more people than he hasn’t! Sometimes stuff just goes wrong!”
How can Krissy possibly be defending him?
“You don’t ...”
Krissy gives Dean an eyeroll. “Don’t listen to him. I know whatever you did, it wasn’t on purpose.” Her expression turns bleak. “You wouldn’t arrange to kill someone’s parents so you could make better soldiers.”
She shifts her body uneasily. “I’m, uh, just gonna keep walking.” She takes a few steps, then, without warning, Krissy flings her arms around Dean in a fierce grip. “It’s good to see you and I don’t blame you and maybe I’ll see you in Heaven sometime, all right?” and she vanishes in the mist.
“She should hate me,” Dean murmurs uncertainly as he stares where the grayness has swallowed her.
“Hey, Dean …” Kevin voices catches. “I didn’t really mean it. I mean, yeah, I’m dead when I should be living it up in a frat house … well, not really, I don’t think I’m the frat house type, but it’s not your fault I got mixed up in the whole angels and demons thing … the prophet thing was my destiny … and you probably kept me from getting killed more times than hanging with you put me in danger. I just wish you’d told me about the thing with Sam before he killed me … maybe I could have protected myself or something. But what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Dean shakes his head in denial. “Yeah, it was. If I hadn’t gotten Sam to …”
“Would you say it was Sam that killed me?”
“No!”
“Did you put your hand on my head and burn my eyes out and turn my insides to liquid?”
“No but -“
“So then why do you think you get to claim all the glory? It was a fucking angel that killed me, not you, so suck it up and go kill the thing that did it!” Kevin is vibrating with the intensity of his words.
“I, uh, don’t think I can, I think I’m dead …”
“Not quite yet, Dean Winchester. I think we need to have a little talk about exactly what state you are in right now.”
And Dean is sitting at a red Formica table across from Death.
***
How many damn times has one of them sat in a hospital at the other’s bedside? Too many, Sam knows. And how many times has one of us watched the other die?
A bizarre question. He wonders if this will be the last time it gets asked.
Dean’s been patched together and pumped with meds and tubed everywhere and no one can tell Sam what is the prognosis. The Blade didn’t just slice his brother open, the doctors are baffled at the necrotizing edges of the wounds where the Blade touched any skin or organ or bone. Sam could tell them it’s the effect of being cut open by the world’s very first weapon, but he doubts that would help them figure out how to heal his brother.
He wants Dean to open his eyes so Sam can tell him he’s sorry. Not for being furious with Dean over the angel possession, but for deliberately pushing Dean away with words calculated to cut the deepest.
He is being selfish, wanting Dean’s forgiveness when Sam wouldn’t give his own. It would have been easier if Dean had just died instantly, Sam wouldn’t be sitting here going over all the ‘what ifs’ … dammit, he’s gone through this too many times. A person is only supposed to die once!
Which would have been nine years ago when Dean had been electrocuted. Sam tries to imagine where his life would have gone if he’d lost Dean then, and it’s too much to begin to think about. Would any of it have happened? He’d still have had demon blood, still have been Lucifer’s vessel … Only he’d have had to face it all alone.
Sam pushes himself out of the chair, stands with his head pressed against the window without seeing anything outside.
When he had been in the hospital bed dying from the trials, Dean had called on angels. Sam needs to talk to someone, needs to figure out what he can - what he should - do. He feels sick and yet he has to …
“Gadreel, I’m calling you. Get the fuck here now.”
***
“Here you go, two Baconzillas, two orders of chili cheese fries, and two sweet teas.” The red-haired waitress smiles as she set the food on the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Death says calmly as he tucks a napkin in his collar. “And I know you will want to try the apple pie sundae for desert.”
Figuring there isn’t much more Death can do to him, Dean grasps the enormous burger with two hands and takes take a bite.
“Damn, this is good,” he mumbles as he chews.
Death swallows and wipes his mouth before he speaks. “I don’t know why there is such surprise that a fast food chain can produce tasteful meals. It would be counterproductive to prepare food that is inedible.”
“’S’not that they can’t, it’s just that most of ‘em just go for the fastest way to make ‘em. Now this burger,” Dean contemplates the double patties layered with bacon and cheese, “this didn’t come off an assembly line. And we get a waitress. So it’s not technically a fast food joint.” He laughs.
“You are amused?”
“Just thinking that my life is fucking weird, I mean, I’m sitting here discussing fast food with Death.” Dean takes another bite, savors what is probably his last meal.
“So what’s the deal? I don’t think we’re hanging out for old times’ sake.”
“No, Dean, you have once again confounded expectations. If I weren’t used to your habit of doing that by now, it would be very annoying. However, I have come to appreciate the relief from boredom that you and your brother periodically provide.
“It’s time for you to make another choice.”
***
How can he be working with this monster, Sam wonders as Gadreel enters the room. The angel does not even look at Dean’s still body.
“As I said before, I cannot heal him.”
“Not even if you possessed him, like you did to me?” Sam has to ask.
Gadreel looks at Sam emotionlessly. “That is not what you or he would want. So why have you called me?”
Sam looks down, swallows. “If Dean is going to …” he forces out the word, “… die, I have to let him know I forgive him.” He raises his head again. “I want you to let me talk to him one last time. Put me in his mind, so I can tell him we are still brothers. He can’t die not knowing that.”
***
Dean is waiting.
Death sighs. “Once again you are the center point of a choice that affects much more than just your individual fate. Your body is dying, and that should be that. However, there are ramifications stemming from the fact that your brother did not die when he was supposed to because of your interference using the angel.”
The food no longer has any taste.
“So what are my choices?”
“You die, and your death, because you are both the Righteous Man and the bearer of the Mark of Cain, will blow open the gates of Heaven. That does not mean you will enter, however.”
“Sounds like a no-brainer, then. I die, Heaven opens back up for business, the ghosts waiting around in limbo go home.”
“However there is the other option. If your will to live is strong enough, the physical damage to your body is reversible.”
“What would be the point of that?”
“Your brother. The path he takes with you is different than the one he takes alone.”
Dean looks bleak. “Don’t have a brother anymore.”
***
The hallway contains a sea of faces. Sam recognizes Jo, Bobby … Jess … then there are the people they didn’t save … ones he doesn’t know … he moves down the hall until he is surrounded by scenes from a horror movie, gutted bodies, screaming mutilated faces, and Sam feels sick to his stomach when he realizes these are the souls Dean tortured in Hell.
These memories have never left Dean.
He starts to jog down the corridor, trying not to look at the images but he can’t help it. He stops cold when he sees their dad. Stern, unforgiving … Sam feels a rush of anger as he understands this is what Dean remembers … then Sam sees his own face, bangs falling over his closed eyes, and he realizes that is his face when he died at Cold Oak … he resumes walking and puzzles at so many images of himself, moments he doesn’t even recall.
There is his face with Lucifer wearing it at Stull.
Then he understands. These are every time Dean thinks he failed Sam.
He needs to find Dean.
There is a break in the images, a ragged gap in the mirrors where someone - Dean - has broken through. Sam twists himself through the opening, ignoring the scratches he acquires, and steps into the parking lot of a Checkers restaurant.
***
A shadow drops over the table and Dean looks up.
“Sam!” He jumps to his feet, not caring that his drink goes flying over the table. He grips Sam’s jacket.
“Tell me you’re not dead!”
“No, no, I’m not.”
“Then what …”
“Hello, Sam.” Death’s voice is, as always, elegantly calm. “I can’t really say it’s good to see you, but I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here. I’ll leave you two to talk things over in peace. One hour, Dean,” and his face is stern, “and you need to decide.”
The restaurant vanishes.
They are back in the jigsaw hall of Dean’s memories.
“What did Death mean, you have to decide?”
“Nothing, Sam, I’ve already decided. So why are you here?” Dean focuses on Sam so he won’t see the faces haunting him.
“What do you remember, Dean?”
“Killin’” The flatness of Dean’s voice says volumes.
“Metatron was there. He ordered you to finish the Cain and Abel story … to kill me. Do you remember what you did?”
Dean remembers the pulsing blood lust coursing through him … and Sam being unafraid …
He shakes his head.
“You stabbed yourself instead of me.”
“Shoulda stabbed Metatron first.”
“Gadreel took care of him … but he couldn’t heal you. You’re in a hospital right now, unconscious, and the doctors don’t think …”
“It’s about time.” Dean turns away. If he can find the hole he made, he can get out of this forsaken mind loop.
He can just make a new opening. He makes a fist and starts smashing the mirrors again.
“Stop!” Sam grabs his arm before Dean can punch again.
“I’m getting out of here, Sam, and I’m gonna die and that’ll open up the way to Heaven for the fucking souls that are all stuck here because of Metatron. So I’ll finally do something right.”
“Wait … who told you that you dying opens Heaven back up?”
“Death. And I figure he’s not gonna lie to me.”
“So your choice?”
“He said I get to pick, live or die. But I don’t see any reason to pick door number one.”
Sam releases his arm. “If … if Death gave you a choice, he must have said what will happen if you don’t die …”
Dean looks down.
“No, not really.”
Sam is standing in the middle of his head. There’s no point in trying to hide anything now.
“He said my living would make a difference to my brother. But damn fine job I’ve done with that, so I’m thinking you’re better off on your own. Hell, they all would have been better if they’d stayed far away from me.”
Dean says it baldly, not accusingly, not trying to make Sam feel guilty.
Sam doesn’t … but he needs Dean to understand.
“I saw … I see these,” Sam gestures at the images surrounding them, “You think they are your failures. That you were responsible for what happened to them. But Dean, you’re not! You didn’t kill …” Sam gestures at the nearest face, “Pamela -“
“I got her involved. She died because of that. All of them, I didn’t save them. Didn’t save you, even when I thought I was. And this business with the Mark … well, I really screwed up with that. I know what I did, Castiel, Krissy, the other hunters, even if I don’t remember …”
Something in Sam’s face gives it away.
“What did you do to me?!” Dean is up in Sam’s face, fisting Sam’s shirt. “Why don’t I remember?”
There is no way to spin this. “I had Gadreel take the memories away.”
“Gadreel? Gadreel, Sam? How is he your new best buddy? And who the hell gave you permission to mess with my mind? To let him mess with my mind?!”
“I was doing what I thought was the right thing for you, Dean! Abaddon was dead, Crowley was dead, I thought it was over, and I didn’t want you torturing yourself over the things you did that you couldn’t help! I was trying to protect you from yourself, dammit!”
“I don’t want you to protect me!”
“Well, I didn’t want to have an angel in me! So we both screwed up trying to fix each other!”
Dean draws his arm back and Sam braces for the hit but Dean turns away and shatters another cluster of mirrors. He rains blow after blow until Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders to stop the next punch. He feels Dean’s heart racing, sees the blood running from his knuckles.
Dean shakes Sam off, but stops the vicious assault. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving red streaks that trickle down to catch in his eyebrows.
“Dean …” This is it, Sam realizes. Either he reaches Dean now, or it’s over. Dean will take Death’s offer of a meaningful death and Sam will be alone.
He doesn’t want to be alone.
But it wouldn’t be right to keep Dean here when he has a chance to find peace …
“So if you open up Heaven for everyone else, you go there too?”
“He didn’t say directly … but it didn’t sound like it. Doesn’t matter, I belong in Hell for what I’ve done.”
And dammit, this, this is what Sam was trying to fix.
“Who let Lucifer out of the Cage?”
The randomness of the question makes Dean look up at him.
“What does … that wasn’t your fault, you were fucked over by demons, and you fucking redeemed yourself when you put him back! What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ve told me, over and over, the unforgiveable stuff I’ve done - freeing Lucifer, being soulless, killing Kevin - you say it’s not my fault, you’ve forgiven me, I’ve paid for my mistakes … but look at this,” Sam waves at the wall of guilt, “you’ve never let go of anything you’ve done and most of them you weren’t responsible for anyway!”
Dean says nothing.
“Why, Dean? Why do I get a free pass, why do I get to be forgiven, and you don’t? And don’t you dare say it’s because you’re my big brother! We’ve been in this together since you got me from Stanford, hell, demons and angels and who knows what the fuck else have had it in for both of us since before we were born! So either we’re equally at fault for every single person who didn’t make it or we’ve been equally jerked around and the mistakes we’ve made can be forgiven! All of them for both of us!”
“But I can open up Heaven, Sam …”
“And I could’ve shut the gates of Hell! But you told me to stop, we’d find another way …”
“Because I needed you, Sammy. I couldn’t let you go. And I did the wrong thing.”
Dean is staring down again. Sam has to make him understand.
“It wasn’t what I wanted. I’ve been … taken over too many times. You shouldn’t have done it. But … I screwed up trying to take care of you, too. The things I said, I was angry and I wanted to hurt you because you didn’t understand why. And I’m sorry.
“Whatever you choose, you’re my brother. And I want you to know that, no matter how you think you’ve failed, I will always look up to you.”
Sam stops. There is nothing to do now but wait for what Dean decides.
Dean is quiet for a long time. Without warning he turns and starts to walk slowly down the hallway, looking at the images.
“I needed to save people,” he says softly, stopping in front of Ellen. “And it seems like everyone who I got involved died.”
Sam holds his tongue as Dean continues. “We all knew it was risky, it wasn’t likely that we’d all make it out alive … but too many good people, Sam.” He stops in front of a face Sam doesn’t recognize. “She was killed by a ghost I was too slow in digging up.” Dean continues moving, trailing his fingers along the faces. He stops again.
“Dad went to Hell because of me.”
“Dad chose to save you. Exactly like you made the deal for me. You were dying because of the demon, Dean. Dad couldn’t let you go any more than you’ve been able to let me go. And every fucked up thing that’s happened to us is because none of us can let go … I could have shot Yellow Eyes but it would’ve meant killing dad … he begged me to, remember?
“I know … I know I said sometimes you have to let go. But we stopped the Apocalypse because you didn’t, you stayed with me, you wouldn’t let me fight Lucifer alone. I wouldn’t have been strong enough if you hadn’t been there, Dean.
“I don’t want to go back to the Men of Letters cave alone. I will, if I have to, if sacrificing yourself is what you really need to do … but I’d rather have my brother with me. There’s got to be another way to fix Heaven that we can find together.”
Dean is looking at the figures in Hell now. “I tortured people, Sam, I cut ‘em and hurt ‘em and did things I can’t even think about … how can I get over that?”
“What you did in Hell, that wasn’t you, that was survival. You were being set up, you couldn’t have resisted.”
“Dad did.”
Sam steps in front of Dean to block the mirror shards.
“Then, now … if I ever had to choose between you and Dad, it’s always you.”
“What about what I did with the Mark?” And even as he asks the question, Dean hears Krissy’s ‘I don’t blame you.’
He hears Cas: I forgive you, Dean. Forgive yourself.
He doesn’t understand how they can forgive him, yet they did.
He looks Sam in the face. “If … if I come back, what keeps me from screwing up again?”
Sam’s eyes blaze. “There’s no guarantees.” Then he says, like a prayer, “But we keep each other human.”
The mosaic on the walls vanishes, the corridor is pure white light and Death is standing there.
“It’s time for you to leave, Sam.” He has time for one last look at his brother, then he is back in the hospital room, waiting. The last thing he hears is Death’s question:
“Well, Dean?”
Gadreel is gone. The machines are still beeping, Dean is still unmoving. Sam collapses in the hospital chair and stares at his brother. If this is the end, he will memorize his brother’s face. He wishes he had done things differently … but he must forgive himself too.
***
“You are being given an unprecedented choice, Dean Winchester. So choose. Live or die?”
He could be a hero, redeem himself for everyone he didn’t save.
He sees the light in Sam’s eyes right before Death sent him back.
If he lives, he will have to remember his failures.
Or forgive them …
“If I … stay … will it change where I go when I finally do … die?”
“I am not in charge of your final destination, Dean Winchester, you are. The choices you make if you continue living will determine your final resting place.”
He thinks of Sam again, takes a deep breath and answers Death’s question.
***
The machines suddenly go crazy, alarms sounding, beeping erratically, and Sam seizes Dean’s cold hand.
“Dean? Dean!”
The room is filled with medical personnel, but Sam is immobile amidst the confusion.
Dean starts choking around the ventilator until someone removes it. His eyes open and he is staring at Sam … and Sam feels his brother’s grip tighten. His lips move and Sam bends down to hear.
“I’m back, Sam. Stronger together.”
Author: borgmama1of5
Summary: Dean’s lost the Mark, doesn’t remember what he’s done … yet he’s still haunted.
Wordcount: 11,600 parts 2 & 3, 14,600 total
Genre/pairings: Gen
Rating: R
Spoilers: through 9.16 Mention of Major character death
Beta: sandymg
Disclaimer: Not mine, simply engaging in wish fulfillment.
Revenge of the Jedi, Part 1
Revenge of the Jedi, Part 2
***
Sam pulls the grisly weapon from Dean's lax fingers and throws it across the room.
"C'mon, Dean!" he breaths as he feels for a pulse.
Faint ... slow ...but still alive ...
“I need to tie this around him. When I lift him, you hold him up.” He feels Gadreel’s hesitation, then the angel kneels next to Dean’s head.
As he ties his shirt across Dean’s abdomen, Sam wonders how many organs the Blade has sliced.
“I have to get him to a hospital. You’re going to help me get him to the car.”
“Sam …”
“Don’t tell me he’s not going to make it! I’m not letting my brother die after all this! Now help me pick him up!”
Gadreel lifts Dean’s legs as Sam carefully wraps his arms around Dean’s upper half and they maneuver Dean’s body to the Impala and into the back seat. Sam sees the improvised bandage is already dark with blood.
This can’t be happening.
As he starts the engine he gives Gadreel, who is standing silently by the rear door, a final order.
“Take that damn Blade and destroy it!”
“I cannot. It is beyond my breaking.”
“Well then, get rid of it somewhere it can never be found! Use your angel powers to put it on the moon, or shove it in another dimension! And you listen for me, if I call you, you come, you understand? You owe me. Us. You owe both of us, you got that?”
Sam doesn’t wait for Gadreel’s answer as he peels the car out of the gravel lot and onto the street.
***
Dean does not know how long he has been cowering in the hallway hiding his eyes from the images he cannot bear … but even with his face tucked in his arms he cannot escape the sounds echoing around him - angry voices, accusations, and screams, so many anguished screams from under his hands in Hell … as the cries rise in intensity Dean covers his ears but that does not stop his brain from hearing them and it is harder and harder to breathe, he is drowning in his failures but they do not stop …
Suddenly a garbled yell is torn from his own throat and he staggers to his feet and slams his fists into the nearest wall.
“I tried, I tried, I tried!” he sobs as the mirrors shatter under his pounding and the razor-sharp splinters slice his knuckles.
His next punch swings through air and he realizes that he has broken through the glass wall. Frantic with the possibility of escape he slams and kicks until he can fit himself through an opening, oblivious to the lacerations rewarding his efforts.
He is free … inside a gray cloud.
He looks behind, but the prison he just fled is gone.
The nothingness is worse.
Dean fights to remain standing, the compulsion to give up, to lie down and surrender, is strong. He wonders why he is still fighting, what he is trying to find.
He walks. Blood is dripping from his hands, his arms, red stains the slashes in his shirts, his jeans. His footsteps make no sound.
He is seized with the impulse to break the silence. He takes a deep breath, and challenges the fog.
“I’m here, mother-fucker! You want me, come and get me!”
Nothing. The sound is simply absorbed, vanishes.
His breath hitches. If he is dead, why is he still breathing? With that thought his chest stops moving, he stops needing air.
He is dead, then. And this is his afterlife - not Heaven, mercifully not Hell - just nothingness.
Alone forever.
But this is what he deserves, right?
He ceases to think.
***
Sam has paced a year’s worth of wear in the waiting room’s carpet. Dean has been in surgery for over five hours.
He can’t live with the thought that Dean could die thinking Sam didn’t care. Would die thinking his life meant so little. That his death was a good thing.
***
The air shifts and there is a human-shaped shadow in front of him … the mist parts and Krissy is standing there.
“Hello, Dean.”
He still doesn’t remember doing it, but he is sure he is why Krissy is dead. His non-beating heart freezes.
“Cat got your tongue, Dean? You always have something to say.”
He makes the words come out.
“I’m sorry, Krissy. I’m just … so sorry.” His throat burns as he speaks.
“Yeah, I know. Sucks. Thought I’d live forever … or at least till twenty-five. But … guess not.”
Dean can’t think of anything to say, but Krissy continues after a brief silence.
“So what happened there? Were you possessed? Where was Sam, why didn’t he stop you?”
She says it all conversationally, like she’s indulging in idle curiosity, not asking why Dean murdered her.
“There was a weapon, a … kind of knife, the First Blade, that we needed to, um, kill a really bad demon … but the person who used it had to get marked and I didn’t know what would happen to me when I did it, but I should have and I …” he trails off. He can’t defend himself.
“So you’re saying that this blade took you over, like demon possession?”
“No … I should’ve been able to stop it …” It just set free what was already in him, Dean wants to confess, but he can’t say that to her.
"Aiden must have taken it hard ... I mean, I don't know if we had a future future ... but we were, well ..."
"I'm so sorry, Krissy." Dean swipes his hand across his face. "I never wanted ... It shouldn't have happened."
"It's just pretty boring, being dead and stuck here ... If I'd just gone right to Heaven, I could be with my dad and mom again ..." She looks at him uncertainly. "I mean probably, right? Somebody like me could go there, right?"
"If anyone should go to Heaven it sh--" he stops as another form takes solidity in the fog.
"Hi, Dean."
"Kevin? What are you doing here? Why aren't you with your mom?"
"Sometimes a guy needs a little alone time, you know." Kevin turns to Krissy, who is looking at him curiously. "I'm Kevin."
"Krissy."
"You must be another dead friend of the Winchesters ... we could have quite a party if we gathered together everyone who’s gotten killed because of them.”
“Kevin …”
“I know, you never meant it to happen. Good intentions, collateral damage.”
Dean half-turns in reaction to the bitterness in Kevin’s words.”
“Do you really think that he doesn’t care about the ‘collateral damage?’” Krissy glares at Kevin. “I don’t know what your beef is, but he’s saved a lot more people than he hasn’t! Sometimes stuff just goes wrong!”
How can Krissy possibly be defending him?
“You don’t ...”
Krissy gives Dean an eyeroll. “Don’t listen to him. I know whatever you did, it wasn’t on purpose.” Her expression turns bleak. “You wouldn’t arrange to kill someone’s parents so you could make better soldiers.”
She shifts her body uneasily. “I’m, uh, just gonna keep walking.” She takes a few steps, then, without warning, Krissy flings her arms around Dean in a fierce grip. “It’s good to see you and I don’t blame you and maybe I’ll see you in Heaven sometime, all right?” and she vanishes in the mist.
“She should hate me,” Dean murmurs uncertainly as he stares where the grayness has swallowed her.
“Hey, Dean …” Kevin voices catches. “I didn’t really mean it. I mean, yeah, I’m dead when I should be living it up in a frat house … well, not really, I don’t think I’m the frat house type, but it’s not your fault I got mixed up in the whole angels and demons thing … the prophet thing was my destiny … and you probably kept me from getting killed more times than hanging with you put me in danger. I just wish you’d told me about the thing with Sam before he killed me … maybe I could have protected myself or something. But what happened wasn’t your fault.”
Dean shakes his head in denial. “Yeah, it was. If I hadn’t gotten Sam to …”
“Would you say it was Sam that killed me?”
“No!”
“Did you put your hand on my head and burn my eyes out and turn my insides to liquid?”
“No but -“
“So then why do you think you get to claim all the glory? It was a fucking angel that killed me, not you, so suck it up and go kill the thing that did it!” Kevin is vibrating with the intensity of his words.
“I, uh, don’t think I can, I think I’m dead …”
“Not quite yet, Dean Winchester. I think we need to have a little talk about exactly what state you are in right now.”
And Dean is sitting at a red Formica table across from Death.
***
How many damn times has one of them sat in a hospital at the other’s bedside? Too many, Sam knows. And how many times has one of us watched the other die?
A bizarre question. He wonders if this will be the last time it gets asked.
Dean’s been patched together and pumped with meds and tubed everywhere and no one can tell Sam what is the prognosis. The Blade didn’t just slice his brother open, the doctors are baffled at the necrotizing edges of the wounds where the Blade touched any skin or organ or bone. Sam could tell them it’s the effect of being cut open by the world’s very first weapon, but he doubts that would help them figure out how to heal his brother.
He wants Dean to open his eyes so Sam can tell him he’s sorry. Not for being furious with Dean over the angel possession, but for deliberately pushing Dean away with words calculated to cut the deepest.
He is being selfish, wanting Dean’s forgiveness when Sam wouldn’t give his own. It would have been easier if Dean had just died instantly, Sam wouldn’t be sitting here going over all the ‘what ifs’ … dammit, he’s gone through this too many times. A person is only supposed to die once!
Which would have been nine years ago when Dean had been electrocuted. Sam tries to imagine where his life would have gone if he’d lost Dean then, and it’s too much to begin to think about. Would any of it have happened? He’d still have had demon blood, still have been Lucifer’s vessel … Only he’d have had to face it all alone.
Sam pushes himself out of the chair, stands with his head pressed against the window without seeing anything outside.
When he had been in the hospital bed dying from the trials, Dean had called on angels. Sam needs to talk to someone, needs to figure out what he can - what he should - do. He feels sick and yet he has to …
“Gadreel, I’m calling you. Get the fuck here now.”
***
“Here you go, two Baconzillas, two orders of chili cheese fries, and two sweet teas.” The red-haired waitress smiles as she set the food on the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Death says calmly as he tucks a napkin in his collar. “And I know you will want to try the apple pie sundae for desert.”
Figuring there isn’t much more Death can do to him, Dean grasps the enormous burger with two hands and takes take a bite.
“Damn, this is good,” he mumbles as he chews.
Death swallows and wipes his mouth before he speaks. “I don’t know why there is such surprise that a fast food chain can produce tasteful meals. It would be counterproductive to prepare food that is inedible.”
“’S’not that they can’t, it’s just that most of ‘em just go for the fastest way to make ‘em. Now this burger,” Dean contemplates the double patties layered with bacon and cheese, “this didn’t come off an assembly line. And we get a waitress. So it’s not technically a fast food joint.” He laughs.
“You are amused?”
“Just thinking that my life is fucking weird, I mean, I’m sitting here discussing fast food with Death.” Dean takes another bite, savors what is probably his last meal.
“So what’s the deal? I don’t think we’re hanging out for old times’ sake.”
“No, Dean, you have once again confounded expectations. If I weren’t used to your habit of doing that by now, it would be very annoying. However, I have come to appreciate the relief from boredom that you and your brother periodically provide.
“It’s time for you to make another choice.”
***
How can he be working with this monster, Sam wonders as Gadreel enters the room. The angel does not even look at Dean’s still body.
“As I said before, I cannot heal him.”
“Not even if you possessed him, like you did to me?” Sam has to ask.
Gadreel looks at Sam emotionlessly. “That is not what you or he would want. So why have you called me?”
Sam looks down, swallows. “If Dean is going to …” he forces out the word, “… die, I have to let him know I forgive him.” He raises his head again. “I want you to let me talk to him one last time. Put me in his mind, so I can tell him we are still brothers. He can’t die not knowing that.”
***
Dean is waiting.
Death sighs. “Once again you are the center point of a choice that affects much more than just your individual fate. Your body is dying, and that should be that. However, there are ramifications stemming from the fact that your brother did not die when he was supposed to because of your interference using the angel.”
The food no longer has any taste.
“So what are my choices?”
“You die, and your death, because you are both the Righteous Man and the bearer of the Mark of Cain, will blow open the gates of Heaven. That does not mean you will enter, however.”
“Sounds like a no-brainer, then. I die, Heaven opens back up for business, the ghosts waiting around in limbo go home.”
“However there is the other option. If your will to live is strong enough, the physical damage to your body is reversible.”
“What would be the point of that?”
“Your brother. The path he takes with you is different than the one he takes alone.”
Dean looks bleak. “Don’t have a brother anymore.”
***
The hallway contains a sea of faces. Sam recognizes Jo, Bobby … Jess … then there are the people they didn’t save … ones he doesn’t know … he moves down the hall until he is surrounded by scenes from a horror movie, gutted bodies, screaming mutilated faces, and Sam feels sick to his stomach when he realizes these are the souls Dean tortured in Hell.
These memories have never left Dean.
He starts to jog down the corridor, trying not to look at the images but he can’t help it. He stops cold when he sees their dad. Stern, unforgiving … Sam feels a rush of anger as he understands this is what Dean remembers … then Sam sees his own face, bangs falling over his closed eyes, and he realizes that is his face when he died at Cold Oak … he resumes walking and puzzles at so many images of himself, moments he doesn’t even recall.
There is his face with Lucifer wearing it at Stull.
Then he understands. These are every time Dean thinks he failed Sam.
He needs to find Dean.
There is a break in the images, a ragged gap in the mirrors where someone - Dean - has broken through. Sam twists himself through the opening, ignoring the scratches he acquires, and steps into the parking lot of a Checkers restaurant.
***
A shadow drops over the table and Dean looks up.
“Sam!” He jumps to his feet, not caring that his drink goes flying over the table. He grips Sam’s jacket.
“Tell me you’re not dead!”
“No, no, I’m not.”
“Then what …”
“Hello, Sam.” Death’s voice is, as always, elegantly calm. “I can’t really say it’s good to see you, but I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here. I’ll leave you two to talk things over in peace. One hour, Dean,” and his face is stern, “and you need to decide.”
The restaurant vanishes.
They are back in the jigsaw hall of Dean’s memories.
“What did Death mean, you have to decide?”
“Nothing, Sam, I’ve already decided. So why are you here?” Dean focuses on Sam so he won’t see the faces haunting him.
“What do you remember, Dean?”
“Killin’” The flatness of Dean’s voice says volumes.
“Metatron was there. He ordered you to finish the Cain and Abel story … to kill me. Do you remember what you did?”
Dean remembers the pulsing blood lust coursing through him … and Sam being unafraid …
He shakes his head.
“You stabbed yourself instead of me.”
“Shoulda stabbed Metatron first.”
“Gadreel took care of him … but he couldn’t heal you. You’re in a hospital right now, unconscious, and the doctors don’t think …”
“It’s about time.” Dean turns away. If he can find the hole he made, he can get out of this forsaken mind loop.
He can just make a new opening. He makes a fist and starts smashing the mirrors again.
“Stop!” Sam grabs his arm before Dean can punch again.
“I’m getting out of here, Sam, and I’m gonna die and that’ll open up the way to Heaven for the fucking souls that are all stuck here because of Metatron. So I’ll finally do something right.”
“Wait … who told you that you dying opens Heaven back up?”
“Death. And I figure he’s not gonna lie to me.”
“So your choice?”
“He said I get to pick, live or die. But I don’t see any reason to pick door number one.”
Sam releases his arm. “If … if Death gave you a choice, he must have said what will happen if you don’t die …”
Dean looks down.
“No, not really.”
Sam is standing in the middle of his head. There’s no point in trying to hide anything now.
“He said my living would make a difference to my brother. But damn fine job I’ve done with that, so I’m thinking you’re better off on your own. Hell, they all would have been better if they’d stayed far away from me.”
Dean says it baldly, not accusingly, not trying to make Sam feel guilty.
Sam doesn’t … but he needs Dean to understand.
“I saw … I see these,” Sam gestures at the images surrounding them, “You think they are your failures. That you were responsible for what happened to them. But Dean, you’re not! You didn’t kill …” Sam gestures at the nearest face, “Pamela -“
“I got her involved. She died because of that. All of them, I didn’t save them. Didn’t save you, even when I thought I was. And this business with the Mark … well, I really screwed up with that. I know what I did, Castiel, Krissy, the other hunters, even if I don’t remember …”
Something in Sam’s face gives it away.
“What did you do to me?!” Dean is up in Sam’s face, fisting Sam’s shirt. “Why don’t I remember?”
There is no way to spin this. “I had Gadreel take the memories away.”
“Gadreel? Gadreel, Sam? How is he your new best buddy? And who the hell gave you permission to mess with my mind? To let him mess with my mind?!”
“I was doing what I thought was the right thing for you, Dean! Abaddon was dead, Crowley was dead, I thought it was over, and I didn’t want you torturing yourself over the things you did that you couldn’t help! I was trying to protect you from yourself, dammit!”
“I don’t want you to protect me!”
“Well, I didn’t want to have an angel in me! So we both screwed up trying to fix each other!”
Dean draws his arm back and Sam braces for the hit but Dean turns away and shatters another cluster of mirrors. He rains blow after blow until Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders to stop the next punch. He feels Dean’s heart racing, sees the blood running from his knuckles.
Dean shakes Sam off, but stops the vicious assault. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving red streaks that trickle down to catch in his eyebrows.
“Dean …” This is it, Sam realizes. Either he reaches Dean now, or it’s over. Dean will take Death’s offer of a meaningful death and Sam will be alone.
He doesn’t want to be alone.
But it wouldn’t be right to keep Dean here when he has a chance to find peace …
“So if you open up Heaven for everyone else, you go there too?”
“He didn’t say directly … but it didn’t sound like it. Doesn’t matter, I belong in Hell for what I’ve done.”
And dammit, this, this is what Sam was trying to fix.
“Who let Lucifer out of the Cage?”
The randomness of the question makes Dean look up at him.
“What does … that wasn’t your fault, you were fucked over by demons, and you fucking redeemed yourself when you put him back! What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ve told me, over and over, the unforgiveable stuff I’ve done - freeing Lucifer, being soulless, killing Kevin - you say it’s not my fault, you’ve forgiven me, I’ve paid for my mistakes … but look at this,” Sam waves at the wall of guilt, “you’ve never let go of anything you’ve done and most of them you weren’t responsible for anyway!”
Dean says nothing.
“Why, Dean? Why do I get a free pass, why do I get to be forgiven, and you don’t? And don’t you dare say it’s because you’re my big brother! We’ve been in this together since you got me from Stanford, hell, demons and angels and who knows what the fuck else have had it in for both of us since before we were born! So either we’re equally at fault for every single person who didn’t make it or we’ve been equally jerked around and the mistakes we’ve made can be forgiven! All of them for both of us!”
“But I can open up Heaven, Sam …”
“And I could’ve shut the gates of Hell! But you told me to stop, we’d find another way …”
“Because I needed you, Sammy. I couldn’t let you go. And I did the wrong thing.”
Dean is staring down again. Sam has to make him understand.
“It wasn’t what I wanted. I’ve been … taken over too many times. You shouldn’t have done it. But … I screwed up trying to take care of you, too. The things I said, I was angry and I wanted to hurt you because you didn’t understand why. And I’m sorry.
“Whatever you choose, you’re my brother. And I want you to know that, no matter how you think you’ve failed, I will always look up to you.”
Sam stops. There is nothing to do now but wait for what Dean decides.
Dean is quiet for a long time. Without warning he turns and starts to walk slowly down the hallway, looking at the images.
“I needed to save people,” he says softly, stopping in front of Ellen. “And it seems like everyone who I got involved died.”
Sam holds his tongue as Dean continues. “We all knew it was risky, it wasn’t likely that we’d all make it out alive … but too many good people, Sam.” He stops in front of a face Sam doesn’t recognize. “She was killed by a ghost I was too slow in digging up.” Dean continues moving, trailing his fingers along the faces. He stops again.
“Dad went to Hell because of me.”
“Dad chose to save you. Exactly like you made the deal for me. You were dying because of the demon, Dean. Dad couldn’t let you go any more than you’ve been able to let me go. And every fucked up thing that’s happened to us is because none of us can let go … I could have shot Yellow Eyes but it would’ve meant killing dad … he begged me to, remember?
“I know … I know I said sometimes you have to let go. But we stopped the Apocalypse because you didn’t, you stayed with me, you wouldn’t let me fight Lucifer alone. I wouldn’t have been strong enough if you hadn’t been there, Dean.
“I don’t want to go back to the Men of Letters cave alone. I will, if I have to, if sacrificing yourself is what you really need to do … but I’d rather have my brother with me. There’s got to be another way to fix Heaven that we can find together.”
Dean is looking at the figures in Hell now. “I tortured people, Sam, I cut ‘em and hurt ‘em and did things I can’t even think about … how can I get over that?”
“What you did in Hell, that wasn’t you, that was survival. You were being set up, you couldn’t have resisted.”
“Dad did.”
Sam steps in front of Dean to block the mirror shards.
“Then, now … if I ever had to choose between you and Dad, it’s always you.”
“What about what I did with the Mark?” And even as he asks the question, Dean hears Krissy’s ‘I don’t blame you.’
He hears Cas: I forgive you, Dean. Forgive yourself.
He doesn’t understand how they can forgive him, yet they did.
He looks Sam in the face. “If … if I come back, what keeps me from screwing up again?”
Sam’s eyes blaze. “There’s no guarantees.” Then he says, like a prayer, “But we keep each other human.”
The mosaic on the walls vanishes, the corridor is pure white light and Death is standing there.
“It’s time for you to leave, Sam.” He has time for one last look at his brother, then he is back in the hospital room, waiting. The last thing he hears is Death’s question:
“Well, Dean?”
Gadreel is gone. The machines are still beeping, Dean is still unmoving. Sam collapses in the hospital chair and stares at his brother. If this is the end, he will memorize his brother’s face. He wishes he had done things differently … but he must forgive himself too.
***
“You are being given an unprecedented choice, Dean Winchester. So choose. Live or die?”
He could be a hero, redeem himself for everyone he didn’t save.
He sees the light in Sam’s eyes right before Death sent him back.
If he lives, he will have to remember his failures.
Or forgive them …
“If I … stay … will it change where I go when I finally do … die?”
“I am not in charge of your final destination, Dean Winchester, you are. The choices you make if you continue living will determine your final resting place.”
He thinks of Sam again, takes a deep breath and answers Death’s question.
***
The machines suddenly go crazy, alarms sounding, beeping erratically, and Sam seizes Dean’s cold hand.
“Dean? Dean!”
The room is filled with medical personnel, but Sam is immobile amidst the confusion.
Dean starts choking around the ventilator until someone removes it. His eyes open and he is staring at Sam … and Sam feels his brother’s grip tighten. His lips move and Sam bends down to hear.
“I’m back, Sam. Stronger together.”