Destinations, Supernatural, NC-17, Broken!Verse
Fandom: Supernatural, Broken!Verse (All of Broken is Here)
Title: Destinations, Part 1
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, John,Pastor Jim, Caleb, Gabe (OMC)
Rating: NC-17, for ongoing themes
Word Count: 4673
Summary: Following Consequences; Ash and Andrew have been found, and the Winchesters are preparing to go after them.
A/Ns & Warnings: This continues some very dark stuff...the psychological fall out of demon possession, rape, murder and dark magic. It also heralds a serious return of the supernatural to the Winchester boys.
The kitchen lights hurt his eyes and Sam shielded them with one hand as he sank to the seat Dean was holding for him. Pastor Jim was bunking Gabe down to sleep off the pain meds. His father was brewing coffee. That left Caleb and Dean and him, all staring at the plain, worn wood of the table, not sure what to say or do.
Sam chewed on the inside of his lip. He’d dreamed that Gabe had been hurt. In fact, most of the images from the dream were vague, but the long wound, its t-shirt bandage and something that looked like it was an animal, but not, those were all very clear.
Dean cleared his throat. “You okay, Caleb?”
Caleb sat slowly and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just…Gabe. It was stupid. But we put it down before it could get back to anyone.” He hid his hands under the table. “We were pretty far out, didn’t think we’d be seen. Didn’t count on them…that…whatever the hell it was.”
“You said berserker?” Sam asked, closing his eyes. There was a sharp pain behind his eyes and he shook his head trying to escape it.
“It was weird.” Caleb said. “I haven’t seen many, but this wasn’t like any berserker I ever saw. It looked like one, but it acted…like a person. It went after Gabe when his gun jammed. Got that slice in before I emptied my clip into it.” He exhaled. “Took a lot to put it down.”
“Berserkers never go down easy.” John said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “But you say it moved like a person?”
Caleb nodded. “It made choices based on which one of us was the easier target, the terrain…it thought the attack through, calculated.”
“Gabe’s asleep.” Jim said as joined them.
Sam felt his father’s eyes and looked up. “I’m okay, Dad.”
“You don’t look okay.”
Sam made a face and shook his head. “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I just need some food.”
Dean patted his shoulder. “Right, that’s what we came up for. I’ll get it.”
“Up?” Caleb asked, his eyes narrowing as they swept over Sam.
Sam looked down at himself and realized he was still dressed in the white robe from the exorcism. “Yeah…we…”
“Sam was helping me with something.” Jim offered, setting coffee mugs on the table. “I have a couple of rooms set up downstairs and he wasn’t up to the stairs when we were done.”
Caleb didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that explanation, to Sam’s relief. Jim poured coffee, and Sam drew the cup close to his face. “So…Caleb…what’s this about Ash and Andrew?” Jim asked.
Caleb nodded once, wrapping his hands around the cup in front of him. “We followed the trail until it went cold. Wasn’t far. Then we hunted for a while. Gabe never did explain what he would do on that damn computer of his. But he was on it all the time when we weren’t hunting.”
Caleb sipped at his coffee. “Then one day he says that we needed to check something out. Demonic signs, livestock mutilations, people gone missing, people gone crazy. That was the start. We never found the cause, but he laughed that night when he was doing his thing on the computer. Two days later he pointed us somewhere else. Then to Marion.”
“Marion?” Jim frowned at Caleb and looked up at John. “There’s a lot of history there, a desecrated church that was used in Civil War Days by a demonic cult for sacrifices and possessions.”
Caleb nodded. “At first it was just what you’d expect. Then Gabe wanted to go to the local bar. We sat in the back and he watched the place for hours. Three nights we did that. Then…there he was.”
“Ash?” Dean asked as he set a plate in front of Sam.
“No…the other one. Billy.” Caleb drank his coffee and looked up at them. “He got good and drunk too. Came in with some other guys. Two of them were obviously there to protect him, get him home. We followed them. That was what? Three days ago…I think.”
“Did you get a look at their operation?”
Caleb put his cup down and stood up to pace. “Not up close. We got an address and Gabe worked his tech magic, found out that the address has been receiving a lot of shipments. Computer chips, electronics equipment…and exotic imports, from China, Japan, places I’ve never heard of.” He leaned against the counter. “We couldn’t risk being seen. Ash and Andrew both know us. Billy’s the only one who’s never seen either of us, that we knew of. So we didn’t get close, just watched from afar. Until yesterday.”
Sam squinted toward Caleb. “What changed?”
“Gabe wanted to see if he could hack their back door. There was a power reading on the far side of the property, and he figured he might be able to slip some sort of surveillance on them. So we went looking.”
“And found a berserker instead.” John finished. Caleb nodded.
“When Gabe’s awake I’ll take a look at what he’s got.” Sam said, stretching and putting down his fork. “Right now I could use a shower and some clean clothes.”
Dean looked at Sam as he stood, the question clear in his eyes. Sam shook his head lightly and reached for his cane. He was capable of handling it himself. In fact, he felt stronger than he had in a long time, emotionally at least. He left the kitchen and headed for the parish house’s bathroom. He flicked on the light, not surprised to see the small duffle Dean had packed sitting on the counter.
It was nearly two in the morning. Jim had to be exhausted, after the ritual, plus dealing with Dean and their Dad…and yet, Sam could hear him talking with Caleb, walking him to one of the spare rooms. Sam smiled as he started the water. Ever the consummate host…priest…though he seldom thought of Jim that way.
Sam pulled the robe off, folding it almost reverently before setting it on the counter. He’d balked at the idea of putting it on. Hell, he’d balked at the idea of the exorcism, more than he let any of them know. It was hard, walking into that circle alone. Even though Dean and his father were there, he knew that at that moment he was alone.
Dean would never understand that, Sam knew. He stepped in under the hot water and dropped his head back, letting it wash over him. It hurt. He remembered telling his father that he hadn’t expected it to hurt when the demon was inside him. He kind of expected the exorcism to hurt though.
It was like a low burn, deep in his belly. Like the words boiled it all down and left it simmering there, pulling the last vestiges of its presence from his blood and yanking it out through his navel. Parts of himself came with it…He’d never be the normal man he’d tried to be with Jessica.
Dean’s touch was like fire, searing into his skin, solidifying his presence, marking Sam’s soul when it was laid bare on the altar. More than any mark in his skin could ever be. It cooled some when the water flowed over him, when Jim spoke the words of absolution…cooled, calmed…and while a part of him may never believe himself worthy of forgiveness, the rest of him relaxed into it, letting go of the death grip he’d had on his own self-loathing.
Sam let the hot water beat on the back of his neck and sighed. Everything felt different now. Different. It was almost like his senses had been heightened. Like everything was sharper.
And then there were the dreams. He knew what had happened to Gabe. He almost knew that when they went after Ash and Andrew, the big red building that looked like a barn didn’t house any cows or horses, and it was the first right turn off the main road after the dairy farm.
Sam shook his head. It was just a dream. Heightened awareness and stuff like that. It didn’t mean anything. He sighed again and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Dean was hovering outside the bathroom door. Sam could just about feel him. He turned off the water and reached for a towel, scrubbing it over himself before he slung it around his waist and opened the door.
Sure enough, Dean was leaning on the wall. “You were in there a long time.”
There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. It reminded Sam of how Dean had been when he first started to overcome the programming. “I was enjoying the hot water.”
Dean nodded, his eyes skipping over Sam and back to his face. “You okay?”
Sam shook his head and turned to wipe the mirror so he could shave. “I’m not going to break, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You seem better.” Dean said tentatively.
“I feel better.” Sam lathered up his face and dragged the razor over his jaw line. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not just pretending?” Dean wasn’t looking at him. Sam sighed.
“Pretending was your thing, Dean. Honestly, it’s all happened too fast for me to pretend anything.”
Dean stood away from the wall, his hands in his pockets. “Everyone’s gone back to bed.”
Sam nodded and rinsed the razor. “You can go get some sleep if you want.”
“What about you?”
“Not tired. I slept, remember?” Sam glanced at him. Dean looked ready to pass out. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than they’d been since the cabin. “Go sleep Dean. I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering over me.”
Dean’s hand slid down Sam’s arm and he leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder. “I just worry.” He said it so softly, Sam wasn’t sure he heard it. There was more to the worry though than there had been…an uncertainty about what the exorcism had changed.
Sam took a step back, drawing Dean into the bathroom and closing the door. His hand cupped Dean’s face and he brushed a tender kiss over his forehead before leaning down to kiss him in earnest. “Nothing to worry about,” Sam whispered. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment they were the open, vulnerable eyes of before. Sam’s stomach wrenched and he drew Dean in for a hug. “I’m really better Dean. I promise.”
Dean nodded against his shoulder before he pulled back and dragged a hand over his face. “So…what are you going to do?”
Sam shook his head. “Read maybe? Don’t worry about me. You just get some sleep.”
Gabe woke sore and disoriented, unaccustomed to waking up alone. The twin bed was comfortable enough, but without Caleb it seemed empty. He sat up slowly and stretched everything but his wounded arm. The stitches felt tight and itchy.
He shivered and looked around the room for his shirt. Pastor Jim had helped him take it off before settling him into the bed. It was no where to be seen, but his bag was sitting by the door. Caleb must have brought it in from the car. It took a minute to get it open with just the one arm working, but he managed and rummaged around inside for a clean shirt.
Getting it on was nearly as difficult, the dull ache in his arm awakening to a sharp pain as he manipulated it enough to get the t-shirt on. He ran his good hand through his growing hair and considered himself presentable. He made his way to the kitchen, surprised to find Sam there with some books open and coffee ready.
“Morning.”
Sam looked up, squinting a little and looking around them as if expecting someone else. “Morning. How’s the arm?”
Gabe shrugged, then winced. “Sore.”
Sam got up and poured coffee, then went to the fridge. “You’re still drinking it with cream and three sugars, right?”
Gabe grinned a little that he remembered. “Yeah…if the caffeine doesn’t keep me awake, the sugar will.”
Sam chuckled and put the creamer on the table next to the sugar. “Here. They’re fairly mild, but should take the edge off.” Sam set a bottle of pills on the table. Gabe reached for it, opening it and dumping one of the three remaining pills onto his hand.
“How’s the leg?”
Sam reached for the bandage, frowning a little. “It’s still sore, and my stamina is next to gone…but better.”
Gabe swallowed the pill dry, then reached with the arm Sam wasn’t poking to pour cream into his cup. “We’re going to need to get you some antibiotics.” Sam said, making a face at Gabe’s arm. “Maybe Jim has some. Our kit’s out.” He re-bandaged the wound and went back to his seat, picking up his coffee to sip at.
“You look like you’re in full research mode.” Gabe said after a few seconds of silence and Sam gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I remember the look; twenty books stacked on or near the table, five or six open, a notebook more full of scribbles than notes. Reminds me of senior year.”
Sam laughed and closed two of the books. “Yeah…only then it was straight up science, not this hodgepodge bastardization of science and magic.” He sighed and cracked his neck. “Caleb gave us the overview last night. I’ve been trying to find something to explain what you saw.”
“Find anything?”
Sam shook his head. “Not really. But if I had more to go on…”
“Well, I have a theory.” Gabe said, leaning forward.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Gabe chuckled and sipped his coffee. “Okay. I think it was a berserker, only I think it was a new, advanced form of one.”
“I’m listening?”
“The shipments that I was tracking…the ranch has been getting huge shipments of tech stuff along with enchanted objects from around the world. They’re also receiving large amounts of salt and chalk and other implements of working with demons. What if what they’re doing is building hybrids? The old organization has a sideline in assassins.”
“But berserkers are hard to control.” Sam said, obviously following Gabe’s train of thought. “If they could find a way to keep more of the person in charge during the possession, they’d be more easily controlled, organized.”
Gabe nodded. “I also think that maybe they’re trying to use dual possession. That thing that we took down was obviously possessed by a bear spirit, but there was something else too…a green spark to his eyes…and a distinctive smell of sulfur on his breath.”
“Been kissing demons again Gabe?” Dean asked, suddenly behind him. Gabe started when Dean ruffled his hair.
“Dean-I-“ Gabe had been told Dean was more himself, but he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he had seen him, Dean was catatonic…and before that, he’d hardly been the Dean Winchester who had become his surrogate older brother.
“What did you do to your hair?” Dean asked after pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Not that I’m complaining. Maybe you could get Sam to do something with his.”
“I happen to like mine just like it is.” Sam said, offering Gabe a smile. “Gabe made a grand sacrifice to capture the man responsible for what happened to us.” Sam’s eyes flashed at Dean and Gabe saw Dean respond, the tiniest of adjustments in his stance, the vaguest of nods in Sam’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Gabe?”
“It wasn’t all that. Besides, it thrilled my Dad.” He ran his hand over it self consciously. “And I have never kissed a demon,” he said belatedly, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything that would make Dean uncomfortable.
“As I recall, Dean,” Sam said, “it was you who did the kissing. Gabe here was the innocent victim.”
Dean snorted. “That isn’t how I remember it. I came into the room and she had Gabe on the floor, sticking her tongue down his throat.”
“She tripped me.” Gabe squeaked, laughing. “Besides, I got her into the trap, didn’t I?”
Dean ruffled his hair again and pulled the chair out to sit. “Yes you did. I’ll give you that. Always come through in a pinch.”
It was slightly disconcerting, but Gabe decided he liked seeing Dean act like himself again. His eyes flashed up to Sam’s, but Sam was only looking at Dean, as if Dean was the only thing in the world that mattered. After everything they’d been through, Gabe figured that might well be the truth for him.
John lowered himself down to sit on the steps in front of the church beside Dean. “Think we’ve got enough to head out there?”
Dean looked up at him and shrugged. “Gabe’s got a lot of intel, but none of it tells us specifically what they’re up to.”
John nodded and leaned back on the steps. “He thinks they’re making assassins.”
“I don’t care what they’re making,” Dean said, his voice strained. “It’s time we put an end to this.”
“We can’t go running in there,” John said, though he hated himself for it. “We have to be smarter than them.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that usually Sam’s line?”
John smiled. “What does Sam think?”
Dean frowned. “I don’t really know. He’s…been different since…well…since.”
“Isn’t that what we were aiming for?”
“I guess. Just not sure different is better.”
“Has he said anything?”
Dean shook his head. “We haven’t been alone since Gabe and Caleb got here.”
“Where is he now?”
“Last I saw, he was with Gabe in the kitchen, pulling up public blueprints of the ranch.”
Sam shook his head as he closed the bedroom door behind him. He was shaking with uncontrollable fury. It came on him unexpectedly as he was working with Gabe. They had brought up the surveillance pictures he and Caleb had taken, and just the grainy suggestion of Ash greeting his own brother had done it.
His head flooded with images of what had been done to him and to Dean and the fury flushed through him. He’d barely gotten out of the kitchen before it was too much. He stumbled through the hall and into the room he’d always shared with Dean when they were here.
He’d never felt so much anger. He panted and clenched his fists. New images filled his head, scenes of destruction, chaos…wild men draped in animal skins, people dead and ripped open. Sam grabbed at his head and grimaced as the pictures intensified and there was Dean, his stomach torn open, laying over the dead body of their father.
Sam screamed and punched the wall, denting the drywall before grabbing the end of the bed and slamming it into the wall. On the other side of the room the window shattered. Sam squeezed his eyes closed and doubled over, yelling as his knees buckled.
Behind him the door burst open and Dean was there, arms wrapped around him, voice grating against his skin like it was a razor.
“Sammy! Sammy, can you hear me?”
He managed to nod, his fists balled against his temples.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean’s hands held Sam’s face, turning him toward Dean. Somehow the touch was soothing. Sam could feel the rage dissipating. “Dean….don’t let go.”
“Right here Sammy. I’m right here.” Dean’s hands rubbed over his skin.
It took a few minutes for Sam to feel like he was in control again and lift his head up to look at his brother. He was still shaking, inside and out. Random images flashed through him. “Dean.”
“Yeah, Sam. Can you tell me what that was?”
Sam hugged himself and shook his head. “Angry…then I saw…stuff…you and Dad…dead. It was…I don’t know what it was.”
“You trashed the room.” Sam looked up. The bedding was ripped open and the night table cracked in half. Glass glittered from nearly every surface.
“I didn’t do that.” Sam said, confused. His head and hand hurt. “I punched the wall.” He held his hand up to look at and Dean took it in his hands, turning it over to look at. “I shoved the bed. I didn’t touch the window.”
“How do you explain it?”
Sam shook his head, but it sent spirals of pain through him. “Don’t know.”
“Hey…you okay?” Dean’s hands were back on his face, brushing comfort over Sam’s skin.
“Hurts.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Let’s get you some place to lay down.”
“Dark.” Sam said as Dean helped him to his feet.
“Downstairs?”
Sam nodded, leaning on Dean as they went. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t understand what was happening to him. As Dean helped him down to the bed, he knew only that he was exhausted and he fell asleep quickly.
Dean chewed on his thumb nail while his father surveyed the damage. “Sam did all of this?”
Dean nodded. “I’m worried about him Dad. He was…scary.”
“What triggered it?”
Dean shrugged. “Gabe said they were looking at images he and Caleb shot at the ranch. Then he just hit the table and left the room. I heard him screaming. By the time I got here, the place looked like this.”
“He said he was angry?”
Dean spit out the fingernail and nodded. “Yeah. Angry…and seeing things, or something.”
John frowned at him. “Seeing things?”
“I don’t know. He had dreams last night, about Gabe being hurt. And he said something about seeing you and me dead.”
John rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s just…overload. I mean…it’s been so much….and then the whole exorcism and finding out about Ash…maybe he just needs time to rest.”
“He’s not going to like that. He’s going to want to come with us.”
John turned to look at him. “Us?”
“You don’t think you’re leaving me out of this, do you?” Dean shook his head and moved toward the door. “Not a chance in hell Dad. Not a chance in hell.”
He had never had a lot of use for churches. Not for personal reasons. John Winchester was a practical man, not an emotional one. He never begrudged those who needed what the church provided, but he had never been one to sit in the open pews after midnight, pondering where it all went wrong or how he was going to survive.
And yet, here he was.
Sitting alone in the sanctuary, holding his head and praying for something to make this whole thing easier…something to ease the guilt ripping him up…something to show him the right way, the right next move.
He’d drugged his sons. Both of them. Put it in their food. Sam was asleep in the basement room. Dean was asleep in the restored bedroom. Gabe and Caleb were…somewhere, presumably asleep.
And John was here, third pew from the altar, his eyes on the polished wood of the pew in front of him. It was all so much. The guilt, the fear, the anguish when he looked at them.
In the months they’d been apart he’d been able to hide it all, bury the images of his sons being brutalized, bury the memory of them cracking under the pressure, disguise his own brokenness under the gruff John Winchester exterior…and now…now he just didn’t know what to do.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to arm himself to the teeth and go after Andrew. He wanted to hunt him into the ground, hurt him, empty a clip into his extremities, practice his carving skills on his back, before finishing this thing once and for all.
Not that any of that would make Sam or Dean whole again. He had to face the fact that they never would be. They could pretend, they could forget, but they’d never be the men they were before Dean was taken from him.
John sighed and rubbed at stinging eyes. Dean was right about Sam not liking the idea of being left behind. John didn’t want either of them in on the hunt, but he knew better than to think he would get away without him.
Unless he left now.
He knew where they were. He knew where to get his hands on weapons. He knew enough to know it was probably a really stupid idea to go in there alone…but maybe he’d have the advantage of surprise.
John lurched to his feet. He’d been sitting around for far too long, letting evil grow. It wasn’t in his nature to wait. He took a deep breath and headed to the basement. He knew where Jim kept his weapons, and he knew Jim wouldn’t object to his borrowing a few.
A half hour later, John had a duffle bag filled with weaponry in the back seat of the Impala. He considered leaving a note, but they would all know where he’d gone once they discovered the missing guns. He bowed his head and offered up the briefest prayer for his boys’ safety and climbed in behind the wheel.
This time, he was following his instincts.
Sam tossed on the small bed, trapped in a nightmare loop of his father leaving, fighting, dying. He sat up and the room spun around him. He heaved with the turmoil, his stomach lurching, his head pounding.
He got up and reached for his cane, limping to the stairs and crawling up them in a panic that he wasn’t entirely certain of. He knew his father was gone. Somehow.
He was breathing heavily as he came into the sanctuary. The banks of candles were burning low, and in the dim light he thought he saw movement. “Hello?”
There was no answer, but he saw something. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted into the shadows. Motion, but no form. He shook his head and limped out into the hall. He was seeing things. Something was wrong. He moved to the front doors, not surprised that the Impala was missing when he peered out into the church parking lot.
“Fuck.” Sam muttered, pulling the door closed. He knew his father had gone after Andrew. He knew beyond a doubt. He limped down the hall and into hall that led out of the church and into the parish house. Dean was going to be pissed.
His stomach rumbled and he made a face. He’d picked at his dinner, not really hungry, but knowing better than to not eat at all. It always set Dean off on one of his over-bearing protective streaks. So Sam had picked and made it look like he was eating. Dean had been distracted enough by the conversation that he hadn’t noticed.
Sam had noticed however how Dean started yawning half way through dinner and how he’d crawled off to bed right after. He suspected his father hadn’t wanted to deal with the events of the day and had drugged the food. Not that he begrudged him. In fact, he’d considered asking for a sedative himself.
He couldn’t explain the anger or the results. If he was totally honest with himself, it kind of scared him. The nightmares, the images that seemed to be at least partially true…the way the window shattered…He stopped, turning to look over his shoulder. He felt like there were eyes following him…voices whispering his name.
Sam shook his head and laughed at himself. He was losing his mind. It was probably just his over active imagination, stimulated by the exorcism and the arrival of Gabe and Caleb. Sam opened Dean’s door and watched him sleep for a minute before shuffling into the room, shutting the door softly.
He dropped his jeans and crawled in beside his brother, drawing him close so that he was spooned up behind him. Sam closed his eyes and willed sleep to come back. Sleep without dreams…give his brother something warm to wake up to before he flew into a fury at their father leaving without him…them.
Part Two
Title: Destinations, Part 1
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean, John,Pastor Jim, Caleb, Gabe (OMC)
Rating: NC-17, for ongoing themes
Word Count: 4673
Summary: Following Consequences; Ash and Andrew have been found, and the Winchesters are preparing to go after them.
A/Ns & Warnings: This continues some very dark stuff...the psychological fall out of demon possession, rape, murder and dark magic. It also heralds a serious return of the supernatural to the Winchester boys.
The kitchen lights hurt his eyes and Sam shielded them with one hand as he sank to the seat Dean was holding for him. Pastor Jim was bunking Gabe down to sleep off the pain meds. His father was brewing coffee. That left Caleb and Dean and him, all staring at the plain, worn wood of the table, not sure what to say or do.
Sam chewed on the inside of his lip. He’d dreamed that Gabe had been hurt. In fact, most of the images from the dream were vague, but the long wound, its t-shirt bandage and something that looked like it was an animal, but not, those were all very clear.
Dean cleared his throat. “You okay, Caleb?”
Caleb sat slowly and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just…Gabe. It was stupid. But we put it down before it could get back to anyone.” He hid his hands under the table. “We were pretty far out, didn’t think we’d be seen. Didn’t count on them…that…whatever the hell it was.”
“You said berserker?” Sam asked, closing his eyes. There was a sharp pain behind his eyes and he shook his head trying to escape it.
“It was weird.” Caleb said. “I haven’t seen many, but this wasn’t like any berserker I ever saw. It looked like one, but it acted…like a person. It went after Gabe when his gun jammed. Got that slice in before I emptied my clip into it.” He exhaled. “Took a lot to put it down.”
“Berserkers never go down easy.” John said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “But you say it moved like a person?”
Caleb nodded. “It made choices based on which one of us was the easier target, the terrain…it thought the attack through, calculated.”
“Gabe’s asleep.” Jim said as joined them.
Sam felt his father’s eyes and looked up. “I’m okay, Dad.”
“You don’t look okay.”
Sam made a face and shook his head. “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I just need some food.”
Dean patted his shoulder. “Right, that’s what we came up for. I’ll get it.”
“Up?” Caleb asked, his eyes narrowing as they swept over Sam.
Sam looked down at himself and realized he was still dressed in the white robe from the exorcism. “Yeah…we…”
“Sam was helping me with something.” Jim offered, setting coffee mugs on the table. “I have a couple of rooms set up downstairs and he wasn’t up to the stairs when we were done.”
Caleb didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that explanation, to Sam’s relief. Jim poured coffee, and Sam drew the cup close to his face. “So…Caleb…what’s this about Ash and Andrew?” Jim asked.
Caleb nodded once, wrapping his hands around the cup in front of him. “We followed the trail until it went cold. Wasn’t far. Then we hunted for a while. Gabe never did explain what he would do on that damn computer of his. But he was on it all the time when we weren’t hunting.”
Caleb sipped at his coffee. “Then one day he says that we needed to check something out. Demonic signs, livestock mutilations, people gone missing, people gone crazy. That was the start. We never found the cause, but he laughed that night when he was doing his thing on the computer. Two days later he pointed us somewhere else. Then to Marion.”
“Marion?” Jim frowned at Caleb and looked up at John. “There’s a lot of history there, a desecrated church that was used in Civil War Days by a demonic cult for sacrifices and possessions.”
Caleb nodded. “At first it was just what you’d expect. Then Gabe wanted to go to the local bar. We sat in the back and he watched the place for hours. Three nights we did that. Then…there he was.”
“Ash?” Dean asked as he set a plate in front of Sam.
“No…the other one. Billy.” Caleb drank his coffee and looked up at them. “He got good and drunk too. Came in with some other guys. Two of them were obviously there to protect him, get him home. We followed them. That was what? Three days ago…I think.”
“Did you get a look at their operation?”
Caleb put his cup down and stood up to pace. “Not up close. We got an address and Gabe worked his tech magic, found out that the address has been receiving a lot of shipments. Computer chips, electronics equipment…and exotic imports, from China, Japan, places I’ve never heard of.” He leaned against the counter. “We couldn’t risk being seen. Ash and Andrew both know us. Billy’s the only one who’s never seen either of us, that we knew of. So we didn’t get close, just watched from afar. Until yesterday.”
Sam squinted toward Caleb. “What changed?”
“Gabe wanted to see if he could hack their back door. There was a power reading on the far side of the property, and he figured he might be able to slip some sort of surveillance on them. So we went looking.”
“And found a berserker instead.” John finished. Caleb nodded.
“When Gabe’s awake I’ll take a look at what he’s got.” Sam said, stretching and putting down his fork. “Right now I could use a shower and some clean clothes.”
Dean looked at Sam as he stood, the question clear in his eyes. Sam shook his head lightly and reached for his cane. He was capable of handling it himself. In fact, he felt stronger than he had in a long time, emotionally at least. He left the kitchen and headed for the parish house’s bathroom. He flicked on the light, not surprised to see the small duffle Dean had packed sitting on the counter.
It was nearly two in the morning. Jim had to be exhausted, after the ritual, plus dealing with Dean and their Dad…and yet, Sam could hear him talking with Caleb, walking him to one of the spare rooms. Sam smiled as he started the water. Ever the consummate host…priest…though he seldom thought of Jim that way.
Sam pulled the robe off, folding it almost reverently before setting it on the counter. He’d balked at the idea of putting it on. Hell, he’d balked at the idea of the exorcism, more than he let any of them know. It was hard, walking into that circle alone. Even though Dean and his father were there, he knew that at that moment he was alone.
Dean would never understand that, Sam knew. He stepped in under the hot water and dropped his head back, letting it wash over him. It hurt. He remembered telling his father that he hadn’t expected it to hurt when the demon was inside him. He kind of expected the exorcism to hurt though.
It was like a low burn, deep in his belly. Like the words boiled it all down and left it simmering there, pulling the last vestiges of its presence from his blood and yanking it out through his navel. Parts of himself came with it…He’d never be the normal man he’d tried to be with Jessica.
Dean’s touch was like fire, searing into his skin, solidifying his presence, marking Sam’s soul when it was laid bare on the altar. More than any mark in his skin could ever be. It cooled some when the water flowed over him, when Jim spoke the words of absolution…cooled, calmed…and while a part of him may never believe himself worthy of forgiveness, the rest of him relaxed into it, letting go of the death grip he’d had on his own self-loathing.
Sam let the hot water beat on the back of his neck and sighed. Everything felt different now. Different. It was almost like his senses had been heightened. Like everything was sharper.
And then there were the dreams. He knew what had happened to Gabe. He almost knew that when they went after Ash and Andrew, the big red building that looked like a barn didn’t house any cows or horses, and it was the first right turn off the main road after the dairy farm.
Sam shook his head. It was just a dream. Heightened awareness and stuff like that. It didn’t mean anything. He sighed again and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Dean was hovering outside the bathroom door. Sam could just about feel him. He turned off the water and reached for a towel, scrubbing it over himself before he slung it around his waist and opened the door.
Sure enough, Dean was leaning on the wall. “You were in there a long time.”
There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. It reminded Sam of how Dean had been when he first started to overcome the programming. “I was enjoying the hot water.”
Dean nodded, his eyes skipping over Sam and back to his face. “You okay?”
Sam shook his head and turned to wipe the mirror so he could shave. “I’m not going to break, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You seem better.” Dean said tentatively.
“I feel better.” Sam lathered up his face and dragged the razor over his jaw line. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not just pretending?” Dean wasn’t looking at him. Sam sighed.
“Pretending was your thing, Dean. Honestly, it’s all happened too fast for me to pretend anything.”
Dean stood away from the wall, his hands in his pockets. “Everyone’s gone back to bed.”
Sam nodded and rinsed the razor. “You can go get some sleep if you want.”
“What about you?”
“Not tired. I slept, remember?” Sam glanced at him. Dean looked ready to pass out. The dark circles under his eyes were worse than they’d been since the cabin. “Go sleep Dean. I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering over me.”
Dean’s hand slid down Sam’s arm and he leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder. “I just worry.” He said it so softly, Sam wasn’t sure he heard it. There was more to the worry though than there had been…an uncertainty about what the exorcism had changed.
Sam took a step back, drawing Dean into the bathroom and closing the door. His hand cupped Dean’s face and he brushed a tender kiss over his forehead before leaning down to kiss him in earnest. “Nothing to worry about,” Sam whispered. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment they were the open, vulnerable eyes of before. Sam’s stomach wrenched and he drew Dean in for a hug. “I’m really better Dean. I promise.”
Dean nodded against his shoulder before he pulled back and dragged a hand over his face. “So…what are you going to do?”
Sam shook his head. “Read maybe? Don’t worry about me. You just get some sleep.”
Gabe woke sore and disoriented, unaccustomed to waking up alone. The twin bed was comfortable enough, but without Caleb it seemed empty. He sat up slowly and stretched everything but his wounded arm. The stitches felt tight and itchy.
He shivered and looked around the room for his shirt. Pastor Jim had helped him take it off before settling him into the bed. It was no where to be seen, but his bag was sitting by the door. Caleb must have brought it in from the car. It took a minute to get it open with just the one arm working, but he managed and rummaged around inside for a clean shirt.
Getting it on was nearly as difficult, the dull ache in his arm awakening to a sharp pain as he manipulated it enough to get the t-shirt on. He ran his good hand through his growing hair and considered himself presentable. He made his way to the kitchen, surprised to find Sam there with some books open and coffee ready.
“Morning.”
Sam looked up, squinting a little and looking around them as if expecting someone else. “Morning. How’s the arm?”
Gabe shrugged, then winced. “Sore.”
Sam got up and poured coffee, then went to the fridge. “You’re still drinking it with cream and three sugars, right?”
Gabe grinned a little that he remembered. “Yeah…if the caffeine doesn’t keep me awake, the sugar will.”
Sam chuckled and put the creamer on the table next to the sugar. “Here. They’re fairly mild, but should take the edge off.” Sam set a bottle of pills on the table. Gabe reached for it, opening it and dumping one of the three remaining pills onto his hand.
“How’s the leg?”
Sam reached for the bandage, frowning a little. “It’s still sore, and my stamina is next to gone…but better.”
Gabe swallowed the pill dry, then reached with the arm Sam wasn’t poking to pour cream into his cup. “We’re going to need to get you some antibiotics.” Sam said, making a face at Gabe’s arm. “Maybe Jim has some. Our kit’s out.” He re-bandaged the wound and went back to his seat, picking up his coffee to sip at.
“You look like you’re in full research mode.” Gabe said after a few seconds of silence and Sam gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I remember the look; twenty books stacked on or near the table, five or six open, a notebook more full of scribbles than notes. Reminds me of senior year.”
Sam laughed and closed two of the books. “Yeah…only then it was straight up science, not this hodgepodge bastardization of science and magic.” He sighed and cracked his neck. “Caleb gave us the overview last night. I’ve been trying to find something to explain what you saw.”
“Find anything?”
Sam shook his head. “Not really. But if I had more to go on…”
“Well, I have a theory.” Gabe said, leaning forward.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Gabe chuckled and sipped his coffee. “Okay. I think it was a berserker, only I think it was a new, advanced form of one.”
“I’m listening?”
“The shipments that I was tracking…the ranch has been getting huge shipments of tech stuff along with enchanted objects from around the world. They’re also receiving large amounts of salt and chalk and other implements of working with demons. What if what they’re doing is building hybrids? The old organization has a sideline in assassins.”
“But berserkers are hard to control.” Sam said, obviously following Gabe’s train of thought. “If they could find a way to keep more of the person in charge during the possession, they’d be more easily controlled, organized.”
Gabe nodded. “I also think that maybe they’re trying to use dual possession. That thing that we took down was obviously possessed by a bear spirit, but there was something else too…a green spark to his eyes…and a distinctive smell of sulfur on his breath.”
“Been kissing demons again Gabe?” Dean asked, suddenly behind him. Gabe started when Dean ruffled his hair.
“Dean-I-“ Gabe had been told Dean was more himself, but he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he had seen him, Dean was catatonic…and before that, he’d hardly been the Dean Winchester who had become his surrogate older brother.
“What did you do to your hair?” Dean asked after pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Not that I’m complaining. Maybe you could get Sam to do something with his.”
“I happen to like mine just like it is.” Sam said, offering Gabe a smile. “Gabe made a grand sacrifice to capture the man responsible for what happened to us.” Sam’s eyes flashed at Dean and Gabe saw Dean respond, the tiniest of adjustments in his stance, the vaguest of nods in Sam’s direction. “Isn’t that right, Gabe?”
“It wasn’t all that. Besides, it thrilled my Dad.” He ran his hand over it self consciously. “And I have never kissed a demon,” he said belatedly, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything that would make Dean uncomfortable.
“As I recall, Dean,” Sam said, “it was you who did the kissing. Gabe here was the innocent victim.”
Dean snorted. “That isn’t how I remember it. I came into the room and she had Gabe on the floor, sticking her tongue down his throat.”
“She tripped me.” Gabe squeaked, laughing. “Besides, I got her into the trap, didn’t I?”
Dean ruffled his hair again and pulled the chair out to sit. “Yes you did. I’ll give you that. Always come through in a pinch.”
It was slightly disconcerting, but Gabe decided he liked seeing Dean act like himself again. His eyes flashed up to Sam’s, but Sam was only looking at Dean, as if Dean was the only thing in the world that mattered. After everything they’d been through, Gabe figured that might well be the truth for him.
John lowered himself down to sit on the steps in front of the church beside Dean. “Think we’ve got enough to head out there?”
Dean looked up at him and shrugged. “Gabe’s got a lot of intel, but none of it tells us specifically what they’re up to.”
John nodded and leaned back on the steps. “He thinks they’re making assassins.”
“I don’t care what they’re making,” Dean said, his voice strained. “It’s time we put an end to this.”
“We can’t go running in there,” John said, though he hated himself for it. “We have to be smarter than them.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that usually Sam’s line?”
John smiled. “What does Sam think?”
Dean frowned. “I don’t really know. He’s…been different since…well…since.”
“Isn’t that what we were aiming for?”
“I guess. Just not sure different is better.”
“Has he said anything?”
Dean shook his head. “We haven’t been alone since Gabe and Caleb got here.”
“Where is he now?”
“Last I saw, he was with Gabe in the kitchen, pulling up public blueprints of the ranch.”
Sam shook his head as he closed the bedroom door behind him. He was shaking with uncontrollable fury. It came on him unexpectedly as he was working with Gabe. They had brought up the surveillance pictures he and Caleb had taken, and just the grainy suggestion of Ash greeting his own brother had done it.
His head flooded with images of what had been done to him and to Dean and the fury flushed through him. He’d barely gotten out of the kitchen before it was too much. He stumbled through the hall and into the room he’d always shared with Dean when they were here.
He’d never felt so much anger. He panted and clenched his fists. New images filled his head, scenes of destruction, chaos…wild men draped in animal skins, people dead and ripped open. Sam grabbed at his head and grimaced as the pictures intensified and there was Dean, his stomach torn open, laying over the dead body of their father.
Sam screamed and punched the wall, denting the drywall before grabbing the end of the bed and slamming it into the wall. On the other side of the room the window shattered. Sam squeezed his eyes closed and doubled over, yelling as his knees buckled.
Behind him the door burst open and Dean was there, arms wrapped around him, voice grating against his skin like it was a razor.
“Sammy! Sammy, can you hear me?”
He managed to nod, his fists balled against his temples.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean’s hands held Sam’s face, turning him toward Dean. Somehow the touch was soothing. Sam could feel the rage dissipating. “Dean….don’t let go.”
“Right here Sammy. I’m right here.” Dean’s hands rubbed over his skin.
It took a few minutes for Sam to feel like he was in control again and lift his head up to look at his brother. He was still shaking, inside and out. Random images flashed through him. “Dean.”
“Yeah, Sam. Can you tell me what that was?”
Sam hugged himself and shook his head. “Angry…then I saw…stuff…you and Dad…dead. It was…I don’t know what it was.”
“You trashed the room.” Sam looked up. The bedding was ripped open and the night table cracked in half. Glass glittered from nearly every surface.
“I didn’t do that.” Sam said, confused. His head and hand hurt. “I punched the wall.” He held his hand up to look at and Dean took it in his hands, turning it over to look at. “I shoved the bed. I didn’t touch the window.”
“How do you explain it?”
Sam shook his head, but it sent spirals of pain through him. “Don’t know.”
“Hey…you okay?” Dean’s hands were back on his face, brushing comfort over Sam’s skin.
“Hurts.”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Let’s get you some place to lay down.”
“Dark.” Sam said as Dean helped him to his feet.
“Downstairs?”
Sam nodded, leaning on Dean as they went. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t understand what was happening to him. As Dean helped him down to the bed, he knew only that he was exhausted and he fell asleep quickly.
Dean chewed on his thumb nail while his father surveyed the damage. “Sam did all of this?”
Dean nodded. “I’m worried about him Dad. He was…scary.”
“What triggered it?”
Dean shrugged. “Gabe said they were looking at images he and Caleb shot at the ranch. Then he just hit the table and left the room. I heard him screaming. By the time I got here, the place looked like this.”
“He said he was angry?”
Dean spit out the fingernail and nodded. “Yeah. Angry…and seeing things, or something.”
John frowned at him. “Seeing things?”
“I don’t know. He had dreams last night, about Gabe being hurt. And he said something about seeing you and me dead.”
John rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s just…overload. I mean…it’s been so much….and then the whole exorcism and finding out about Ash…maybe he just needs time to rest.”
“He’s not going to like that. He’s going to want to come with us.”
John turned to look at him. “Us?”
“You don’t think you’re leaving me out of this, do you?” Dean shook his head and moved toward the door. “Not a chance in hell Dad. Not a chance in hell.”
He had never had a lot of use for churches. Not for personal reasons. John Winchester was a practical man, not an emotional one. He never begrudged those who needed what the church provided, but he had never been one to sit in the open pews after midnight, pondering where it all went wrong or how he was going to survive.
And yet, here he was.
Sitting alone in the sanctuary, holding his head and praying for something to make this whole thing easier…something to ease the guilt ripping him up…something to show him the right way, the right next move.
He’d drugged his sons. Both of them. Put it in their food. Sam was asleep in the basement room. Dean was asleep in the restored bedroom. Gabe and Caleb were…somewhere, presumably asleep.
And John was here, third pew from the altar, his eyes on the polished wood of the pew in front of him. It was all so much. The guilt, the fear, the anguish when he looked at them.
In the months they’d been apart he’d been able to hide it all, bury the images of his sons being brutalized, bury the memory of them cracking under the pressure, disguise his own brokenness under the gruff John Winchester exterior…and now…now he just didn’t know what to do.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to arm himself to the teeth and go after Andrew. He wanted to hunt him into the ground, hurt him, empty a clip into his extremities, practice his carving skills on his back, before finishing this thing once and for all.
Not that any of that would make Sam or Dean whole again. He had to face the fact that they never would be. They could pretend, they could forget, but they’d never be the men they were before Dean was taken from him.
John sighed and rubbed at stinging eyes. Dean was right about Sam not liking the idea of being left behind. John didn’t want either of them in on the hunt, but he knew better than to think he would get away without him.
Unless he left now.
He knew where they were. He knew where to get his hands on weapons. He knew enough to know it was probably a really stupid idea to go in there alone…but maybe he’d have the advantage of surprise.
John lurched to his feet. He’d been sitting around for far too long, letting evil grow. It wasn’t in his nature to wait. He took a deep breath and headed to the basement. He knew where Jim kept his weapons, and he knew Jim wouldn’t object to his borrowing a few.
A half hour later, John had a duffle bag filled with weaponry in the back seat of the Impala. He considered leaving a note, but they would all know where he’d gone once they discovered the missing guns. He bowed his head and offered up the briefest prayer for his boys’ safety and climbed in behind the wheel.
This time, he was following his instincts.
Sam tossed on the small bed, trapped in a nightmare loop of his father leaving, fighting, dying. He sat up and the room spun around him. He heaved with the turmoil, his stomach lurching, his head pounding.
He got up and reached for his cane, limping to the stairs and crawling up them in a panic that he wasn’t entirely certain of. He knew his father was gone. Somehow.
He was breathing heavily as he came into the sanctuary. The banks of candles were burning low, and in the dim light he thought he saw movement. “Hello?”
There was no answer, but he saw something. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted into the shadows. Motion, but no form. He shook his head and limped out into the hall. He was seeing things. Something was wrong. He moved to the front doors, not surprised that the Impala was missing when he peered out into the church parking lot.
“Fuck.” Sam muttered, pulling the door closed. He knew his father had gone after Andrew. He knew beyond a doubt. He limped down the hall and into hall that led out of the church and into the parish house. Dean was going to be pissed.
His stomach rumbled and he made a face. He’d picked at his dinner, not really hungry, but knowing better than to not eat at all. It always set Dean off on one of his over-bearing protective streaks. So Sam had picked and made it look like he was eating. Dean had been distracted enough by the conversation that he hadn’t noticed.
Sam had noticed however how Dean started yawning half way through dinner and how he’d crawled off to bed right after. He suspected his father hadn’t wanted to deal with the events of the day and had drugged the food. Not that he begrudged him. In fact, he’d considered asking for a sedative himself.
He couldn’t explain the anger or the results. If he was totally honest with himself, it kind of scared him. The nightmares, the images that seemed to be at least partially true…the way the window shattered…He stopped, turning to look over his shoulder. He felt like there were eyes following him…voices whispering his name.
Sam shook his head and laughed at himself. He was losing his mind. It was probably just his over active imagination, stimulated by the exorcism and the arrival of Gabe and Caleb. Sam opened Dean’s door and watched him sleep for a minute before shuffling into the room, shutting the door softly.
He dropped his jeans and crawled in beside his brother, drawing him close so that he was spooned up behind him. Sam closed his eyes and willed sleep to come back. Sleep without dreams…give his brother something warm to wake up to before he flew into a fury at their father leaving without him…them.
Part Two