Stripped Down to the Bone
It had started out as just a simple hunt, people going missing on every Sunday like clockwork for little over a month. The signs were there; all blaring blatantly clear that even a normal human being would’ve had trouble missing it. Though, then again, most normal humans would’ve assumed that the murders were the work of a serial killer and not a demon.
But as soon as Sam and Dean had gotten wind of the killings they knew right away what it was. They had pulled into town on a Friday morning, spent the day talking to the local law enforcement and the victims’ families. By the end of the day it had become apparent what was doing the killings.
According to the sheriff four victims had been found, their bodies mutilated and drained of all their blood, their hearts were ripped out and burned. Each victim was found on the opposite sides of the town. The only connection between the four was the fact that they had all been virgins. All of them were different ages, different races, and of different backgrounds. But they had all been virgins, every single one of them.
Sitting back in the hotel room, that Sam and Dean were sharing, Sam stared at the computer screen, his stomach knotting with uneasiness. The name in thick black letters on the screen burned into his eyes. Dean behind him was breathing through his nose tight shallow gasps as he tried to calm his panic.
“Baal” Dean hissed his voice tight, the word came out strained and barely audible.
Nodding mutely Sam scrolled down the screen to the black and white picture of a giant spidery creature. “He’s the commander of Hell’s armies.”
“What is he doing on Earth?” Dean asked turning away from the screen, downing the glass of whiskey, that he held in his hand, in one effortless gulp.
“He’s opening a gateway”
“A gateway to what?” Even though Dean asked he already knew, they both knew. They knew the moment they had found the burned hearts next to the bodies.
“To Hell…he’s going to open a gateway to bring forth the armies of Hell.” Sam felt it increasingly harder to breath, felt it increasingly harder to focus. The words on the computer started to blur and go out of focus; the room around it started to spin. Opening his mouth he took in a deep breath of air and the room stilled and his vision returned to normal.
Sam stood on his knees face turned upwards raining beating down on him, the water washing away the grime and blood, his blood, from his face. Dean lay unconscious on the ground next to him. He had been calling to Cas when Baal had flicked his wrist and Dean went limp. Dean went unconscious, he was not dead, just simply unconscious. He couldn’t be dead.
Baal stood over him, his meat suit was a young boy probably no older then fifteen, the boy when he was human probably looked happy when he smiled. But with Baal inside him, controlling him, when he smiled his face contorted. It took on a sinister look that chilled Sam. A look reminded him that the split moment of hesitation, on his part because he could not believe that such a young boy could house a demon, was the reason his brother lay dead on the ground beside him.
That moment of hesitation was the reason why his left arm was limp, why blood surged down his face from the split in his cheek. It was the reason why his heart sputtered before limping back to life, why he could not breathe, his collapsed ribs pressing too hard against his lungs to allow them to inflate.
“Samuel Winchester” Baal breathed his face coming into view above Sam. His lips were curled back revealing too sharp canines. Blood from the victim stained his teeth and gums, the rain had already washed away the blood that had covered Baal’s face.
“And…” Baal’s eyes flickered over to where Dean’s lifeless body lay “the once great Dean Winchester. I met him once while he was in Hell…offered him to be my second in command.” Reaching a hand out Baal flipped a piece of hair out of Sam’s face “He said no…spit blood in my face. But that was only in the first twenty years he was down there.” Tracing a finger across Sam’s forehead Baal leaned in, the strong smell of blood crawled over Sam’s face. He had swallow back the bile rising in his throat.
“You know what Sammy I bet if I had come back…if I had offered him again while his hands were stained with the blood of his victims he would’ve said yes. He would’ve stood by my side and commanded Hell’s armies. He would’ve held that blood stained sword high and lead the armies of Hell onto to Earth.”
“Fuck you” Sam spit out. Blood dribbled down his chin from the corners of his mouth. It was becoming harder to focus; to ignore the black dots that popped in his vision. To ignore the way his lungs screamed at him begging for air, for sweet release.
“Oh Sammy” Baal said clicking his tongue his head moved softly to the side. In one quick fluid motion Baal snapped out, his hand curling it around Sam’s neck lifting him off the ground.
Sam was helpless against Baal’s strength, the boy that housed the demon was short he barely reached Sam’s shoulder. And yet Baal held him up so Sam had to look down at the demon; he had to look down and see that smirk plastered over the bastards face.
“You should be more respectful to your elders.” If Sam had any air left in his body it would’ve left him when his back was painfully slammed into the ground. Red dots popped alongside the black ones, he could feel his shoulder blade crunch and shatter beneath Baal’s strength. He could feel his windpipe collapse. Sputtering desperately Sam tried to claw at Baal’s wrist, at his hand, at anything that would allow air to return to his body. But he found that no matter how franticly he tried to move, no matter how much his body demanded oxygen, he could not move.
The demons face came back into view, the innocence that had once been in the boy was mutilated and corrupted into evil. It was twisted and tainted until the demon broke forth and grinned evilly down at Sam’s dying body. “We had such plans for you Sam…such high plans. Then you went and messed them all up, you and your broken brother.” The demon paused and rocked Sam’s head back and forth, watching the life slip from Sam’s eyes. “Well Sammy for that fine mess you created I got a present for you.” Lifting his arm up to his mouth the demon sank his teeth into his arm tearing the flesh, when he came away his mouth was stained red. The rain, though, soon washed it away.
“I’ve got a little gift for all your hard work” Lowering his arm down the demon turned his arm presenting the wound to Sam’s mouth. He tried to move to get away to yell to scream to beg for Dean, for Cas, God, someone, anyone to help him to take away the blood. But none answered. He was alone with the demon. His brother was dead.
Power surged through his body, it ripped open every cell and fiber of his being, it shredded him through the core and rebuilt him. The first drop of blood tasted so deliciously awful, so horribly wonderful. The first drop of blood slammed into him sidelining him making him forget that he was dying, that his body was paralyzed.
“Yes Sammy drink it” Baal hissed, his face contorted into a blissful state as he pressed his arm against Sam’s open mouth forcing the blood down Sam’s eager throat.
He could feel the power surge around him consume, fill him. Every demons blood that he had drank before this one paled in comparison. This blood, this ancient blood was so powerful, so intoxicating, so strong that Sam latched onto it. He missed feeling strong; missed feeling powerful, missed being able to defend his brother; to protect the innocence.
“Let it take over you, consume you. Let it change you.” Baal’s whispers soothed him, cradled him as the blood slid down his throat. As it latched onto his DNA, attached itself to Sam’s soul and it started twisting and mangling him, it snapped and broke everything that had once made him, him. And Sam let it, he let it wash over him, he let it take over. He was tired, he was beaten and battered, he was bruised and used up. His soul ached deep down in soul, his body tired and restless after so many years of pain, of torture, and destruction. He was tired and the power felt so good.
“Sam stop” the voice pleaded, a soft whisper in the whirlwind that was crashing around him, crashing around inside him.
Raising an arm Sam took hold of the arm next to his mouth, he pulled it closer, wrapping his lips around the arm for better access. “Sam stop” the voice pleaded again, it sounded faint like it was caught in the wind.
His other arm went up, attached itself to Baal’s arm pulling it closer. He could move his feet, could wiggle his toes inside his boots. He bit down breaking the skin even more drawing out more blood, drowning himself in it.
Sitting up he closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see the expression on Baal’s face, didn’t want to see the triumphant look that was splayed across his face. “Sam stop!” the voice demanded, it was closer but still lost on the wind, like the owner of the voice was drawing nearer but still so very far away.
A blinding white light shot through him. It started at the tip of his toes and burst up through his head, it swallowed him whole. It threw him backwards slamming him against the tree behind him. He did not feel the impact, did not feel anything beside the rush of power that surged through him. He was so powerful; so painfully aware of everything around him.
As he rose he saw Baal cower before him, he saw the general of Hell’s armies quake with fear in his presence. He could see inside Baal’s soul, he could see the blackened scorched soul that flittered, dying, around inside him. Sam reached out took hold of it and with a single twitch of his finger he crushed it.
Baal’s body crumpled and fell into a heap on the ground. There was no black smoke no soundless screams. Baal was dead. His soul or what was left of it eviscerated and slammed out existence.
A lifeless lump caught Sam’s attention and he recognized it as his brother. Dean was face down on the ground his eyes wide with shock, his mouth open still, even in death, begging for Cas to come and save them. Cas had not shown up, he had chose to ignore Dean’s plea and now Dean was dead.
But Sam he was powerful, he could feel it course through his veins. He knew what he was capable of; he knew what he could do.
Dean’s soul came rushing back in a single gasp, it wasn’t dramatic or drawn out. Just a soft little gasp of air that filled Dean’s body. Sam stood watching as Dean picked himself up off the ground, as he turned and looked at Sam. He watched as horror filled his brother’s eyes and realization of the power that swam in Sam’s veins dawned on him.
“Sam…” Dean choked out his voice raw and catching in his throat. “I’m sorry…I am so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry Dean” Sam said flexing his hand, he could feel the strength buried under his flesh, could feel the energy that burned inside his words. “You didn’t have to save me…you don’t have to save me.”
Small shudders ran through Dean’s body as he stood rooted to the spot, eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry Sam…I’m sorry for how bad this is going to hurt.”
“What are…” he could feel them before they appeared, he could feel their years and power stretch out to him before their physical forms met his eyes. He could hear their wings flapping in the air, their breaths quick and fast as they flew as rapidly as they could, trying to reach Sam before he could figure out what was happening.
“I saw it all Sam…I saw it from Heaven” Dean’s voice was thick and heavy as the two angels appeared next to him. Gabriel, the dead archangel, stood to Dean’s left and Castiel, the newly appointed archangel, stood to his right. Behind them their wings arched and stretched out. They fluttered restlessly as they bore down on Sam; their strength protecting them against Sam’s power.
Gabriel reached him first, his wings wide and expansive behind him. They were black like ink but burst of colors whirled through them. Bright greens and purple, blues and pinks surged and melted together. Feathers, as long and as wide as Sam’s torso, waved in the breeze pulsing like a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry kid” he whispered as he reached out his fingers arching towards Sam’s face. He tried to lunge backwards to evade the touch, he knew what was coming he knew what they wanted to do. But Castiel was behind him, hands wrapped around his forearms holding Sam in a grip so tight if he had been human it would’ve broke and shattered his bones.
“Fuck you” Sam hissed as he rallied against Castiel’s grip. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Castiel’s wings fluttering around, flapping to get bearing so they could lift him up and whisk him away. Castiel’s wings were so blinding white, the feathers looked young and strong, but they were mired with darkness. Bits and pieces were flecked with black, with small smatterings of green, a green that reminded Sam so much of Dean’s eyes.
He gathered his power let it wash over him let it take over him. It burned behind his eyes, it beat against his heart, tore away at his soul until he was nothing but his power. Until he was nothing but evil and demonic.
“Dean” Castiel called out his vice like grip tightening on Sam’s arms “close your eyes and cover your ears.” Behind Gabriel, Sam watched as, Dean did as Castiel instructed. Sam knew what was coming, he knew what they were doing he tried to close his eyes. He tried to fight back, to lash out at them, to get them away. But the more he struggled the more the archangels clung to him.
“I’m sorry kid” Gabriel repeated before he opened his mouth letting his head fall backwards as his grace burst forth. Gabriel’s true voice broke through Sam, it demolished every piece of darkness that was inside him. He heard it and it was beautiful and terrible. He saw Gabriel’s grace, he saw Gabriel’s true form and it made him wept. He kept his eyes open he took in the sight, drank it in greedily, and welcomed it.
Pain. Such horrible pain, a pain like nothing he had ever felt before burned at him. Every square inch of his body was on fire, it ached and sizzled like he was back in Hell. The pain eroded at him, as his mind flashed back to Hell, caught in between Michael and Lucifer. The pain they inflicted on him, the torture they committed onto him. The way they let him burn in the Hell fire. How they stripped him down to his bones and poured acid made of venom and hate through his wounds. He would welcome it all back; he would trade it all in a heartbeat to make this pain stop.
It felt as if someone was scouring every inch of being with a fire leaving behind a trail of salt to burn at the wounds. His life paused and flickered before him, his brothers face filled his vision and faded away. Hell with Michael and Lucifer danced in front of him and flitted away. Castiel whirled around him disappearing with a flap of wings.
Gabriel, the dead archangel, the one of the many that had sacrificed themselves their lives, their mortality and immortality for him for Dean. His voice crawled over him, dug into his soul, buried its way into his head.
“Hang on kiddo”
“Open your eyes”
“Get away from him”
“Don’t touch him”
“Close your eyes”
Gabriel’s words swirled around him tracing their existence onto Sam’s body. He could feel the words like weight settle onto his chest and shove against him.
“I will burn it out of him” Gabriel yelled his voice loud and authorize as it burst through the blinding light that had engulfed Sam.
He could feel hands pressing against his chest, he could feel fingers digging into his flesh. Grace burning against his soul, burning away the evil, scouring his soul and cleaning out the blood.
It was gone, all of it was gone. And he was left feeling hallow and empty. His soul was adorned with new cracks, more imperfections to join the beaten and battered soul that barely clung to his ribs.
But there was something more, something bright, deeper down. It warmed him and soothed him, it comforted him. Sam clung onto the glow; he clung onto to like a newborn to their mom.
“I do not know if he will wake up” Cas’s voice, deep and apologetic murmured above him.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dean demanded “How could you not know. There was no way we went through three months of Gabriela and Sam locked in the panic room to just have him comatose for the rest of his life.”
“We do not even know if Sam’s soul is still in his body” Cas said patiently, taking and accepting Dean’s anger. Sam wanted to yell, to scream and tell them that he was right here, that he could hear them, that Dean didn’t have to worry. But no sound came from his mouth, he could not move his body, could not open his eyes.
“If it’s not in his body then where is it?” Dean snarled. Cas did not answer. Sam knew what Dean was thinking, what Cas thought as well. They thought he was in Hell, that his soul had been shoved back into the cage with Michael and Lucifer.
How do you measure time when you cannot see, how can you tell when the seconds turn into minutes, then into hours that fades into days then into years? How can you can tell what is time when you cannot see, can only hear. How can you tell if there is anything beyond the white if you cannot see anything but the white?
There was nothing and then there was Gabriel. He stood staring his eyes mournful, his mouth dipped in the corners, his face haggard and worn. He stood just inside of Sam’s vision, hands thrust into his pockets as he watched.
“Gabriel” Sam croaked, his voice was torn with non use, his tongue and lips felt weak.
He stood beside Sam hands still in his pockets as he stared mournfully down at Sam “It’s nice to see your soul isn’t sitting poolside down in Hell sasquatch.”
“Where am I?” Sam asked he tried to look around but all he could see was white and Gabriel.
“At Bobby’s…in the panic room” Gabriel’s hands came out of his pockets.
“I was so powerful…”
“You drank a very high level demons blood…Baal at one point a long time ago used to be an angel.” Gabriel’s words were clipped, his eyes narrowed with anger, with anger at Sam. “You drank enough blood that you killed an angel without moving your hand. You almost killed Cas” Gabriel supplied his lips pulled tight “if he had been any weaker he would’ve been dead. Permanently.”
“Ah God…I” If Sam could move he would cover his face with his hands, he would hide his face from Gabriel, hide his shame, his failure, his filth.
“God has nothing to do with” Gabriel snapped his face surging closer, his hands gripping onto Sam’s arm. “God did not answer when you called.”
He wanted to turn his head to look away from the anger and hate that burned through Gabriel’s eyes. He couldn’t take it any longer; he couldn’t take all the disappointment the unanswered expectations that were laid before him. So he did the only thing he could do, he closed his eyes. He shut himself off, he ignored Gabriel as he talked to him, he blocked out the world blocked out everything and let himself slip away.
Part 2