It's been a week since Sam's demonic possession by Meg and subsequent exorcism. The experience has opened his eyes to the truth - that Dean just may not be capable of following their father's last order if the need should arise. So Sam decides to do something that's for the best...
For The Best…
by Adrian A aka Blackthorne
It's for the best, Sam kept telling himself, as he endeavored to pack his things with as little noise as was possible. Dean was a light sleeper. The worst way for this to go down would be Sam startling his brother awake. He could picture Dean jumping up, clutching the knife he kept under his pillow and then asking a barrage of questions. Sam figured that it was better that Dean not know until it was too late to try and stop him.
It had been a week after Sam's demonic possession by the hell spawn know to them only by the moniker, Meg. At first Sam couldn't recall much of what his body had done while under her influence. Just vague feelings of familiarity to places he'd been while in demonic bondage. But in the next few days following the exorcism - the visions came. Not of the future, but the past - flashback visions.
Jo, I almost killed Jo, Sam thought in horror. He'd almost taken away the last vestiges of Ellen Harvelle's family. The very thing Ellen feared contact with the Winchester boys would result in. And Dean couldn't pull the trigger to stop me…
When Sam forced a discussion on the subject, Dean had said that he knew it couldn't be Sam. Sam didn't have it in him to do those things. But Sam was well aware that it was a cop out. Dean didn't even know for sure it was a demon. He just wanted to believe that it wasn't Sam. That incident had opened his eyes.
If Dean couldn't pull a trigger to stop a demon that was wearing his body like a skin suit, could Sam really expect him to be able to shoot…save him from himself if the time came? The time when it wouldn't be a case of possession, but Sam himself, fulfilling the master plan of the Yellow Eyed Demon?
Dean shifted a little in his sleep, and Sam paled. If he suspected that he was leaving like this, Dean wouldn't hesitate to clock him one…or more. When Dean settled into a comfortable slumber once more, Sam slowly zipped up his pack.
Why the hell do they make these zippers so damn loud? he wondered.
Sam paused at the door, looked over at Dean, at the note on his nightstand and whispered an "I'm sorry." He could remember the taunting words Meg made him say, as she held Jo hostage, tied to a post with a gun to her head.
"What, Dean? You're so afraid of being alone that you'll let me kill Jo?"
Dean's single greatest fear - being alone. As much times as Dean saved him from his fears, Sam was leaving him to face his, alone. But considering the possible outcomes if he stayed, it was the lesser of two evils. Sam reckoned it was better to leave Dean alone and alive than to wake up one day with his blood on his hands.
It's better this way Sam repeated to himself for the thousandth time that night, willing himself to believe it. If he stayed and went dark side, Dean wouldn't be able to stop him. And he'd only get himself killed. The thought of killing someone, a human someone, was downright repulsive as it was to Sam. But the thought of killing Dean, especially knowing that he had it in his power to prevent it, was unbearable.
Come on, make it out the door already, Sam gruffly ordered himself. He knew he was taking too long with looking his last. If things went according to plan, he probably wouldn't be seeing his brother for a while - Until I know for sure that I won't turn. And if his journey of personal self-discovery revealed otherwise, then this was the last time he'd ever look upon Dean. It was too bad their last words were of anger.
Sam regretfully recalled the argument they'd had the evening before…
"You're asking me to kill you!" Dean had said. "How fucked up is that? Do you want to die?"
"I'm asking you to save me," Sam tried to reason with him. "I'm asking you to do what dad told you to."
"No." Dean's response was short and simple, as if that was that.
"Fuck, Dean! You always listened to him like his words were gospel. NOW you decide to get a mind of your own?!"
Something had tripped in Dean then. It must have been due to Sam bringing up their father.
"Well screw him! All my life he's made me do things I didn't wanna do. Not this time! Not this!"
"You promised. You swore you would, Dean."
"Yeah?" Dean asked bitterly. "Well he's not around anymore to hold me to it, is he?"
That had opened up another can of worms. Or rather, reopened it.
"It's cuz of me and that damn deal he's dead!" Dean argued. "And I'm not going to be responsible for you dieing. I won't…I can't…"
"Dean, we don't know for sure he made a deal," Sam tried to calm his brother.
"Fuckin' hell! Put two and two together! I was supposed to die, Sam! And then I make this miraculous recovery - dad gives me an order like that, and then just drops dead without any reason? All that after he makes you get him magical supplies from Bobby?"
Sam never did want to admit it to himself. But the evidence was considerable. And that was putting it mildly.
"Be that as it may - or may not," Sam ventured, "I am asking you now, Dean."
"I don't need this crap."
"What about what I need?"
"You need someone to knock some sense into you. If you're still on this shit when I get back - I'll be happy to help straighten you out," Dean had said, before leaving for the nearest bar…
While he was gone, Sam had come to a decision. Dean was partially right. Right in that it was not fair to ask him to do this. This was Sam's problem, and he'd have to take care of his own shit for once. However, Dean was also partially wrong. While Sam was open, VERY open, to alternative solutions to ensure he didn't join the side of hell - he was not prepared to rule out death as a way of circumventing old Yellow Eyes' plan.
What was his life compared to God alone knew how many innocent victims of the planned war? While there were other Special Children out there who the Demon could manipulate into bringing about that dark future, Sam wasn't going to be one of them. Not if he could help it.
Dean would look for him. That was a given. But with luck, Sam would be able to evade him. At least he hoped so. He had spent enough time with Dean to know how he operated. And just to give himself an advantageous head start, Sam decided to…slash the tires of the Impala. He smiled ruefully. Dean always threatened him with death if he ever hurt the Impala. Maybe that will change your mind, eh Dean? Sam thought with dark humor.
I'm sorry…
Once he got enough of a lead, it would simply be a matter of laying low until he managed to discover his true nature and destiny on his own. And if he somehow turned before he learned the truth, before he could take care of it himself… Well Sam had a feeling his dark side wouldn't be laying low. Other hunters would take care of him and whatever threat he posed. Hunters like Gordon. They'd spare Dean from the burden…
And so here he was, hand upon the doorknob, ready to turn his back on Dean for the second time in his life. Hopefully this time, when I'm sure, he'd come back of his own volition. Turning the handle, Sam resisted the urge to look back, and stepped out into the hallway.
"Get your ass back inside."
Sam froze. Dean's voice was tight with repressed anger. And for someone who had just woken up from sleep, it didn't really sound all that groggy.
"How long were you awake?" Sam asked.
"Long enough. Now get inside."
"No," said Sam with finality, echoing Dean's short, simple answer from the day before.
"Don't make me hafta get offa this bed, Sam," Dean threatened, though his voice was level.
Sam could hear Dean shifting a little on his bed even as he issued the threat. It was time to be brave. So Sam molded his expression into a mask of determination and courage. He did his best to hide the fact that he was terrified of facing his fate alone. He needed to be strong on his own now. For both their sakes, he couldn't let Dean be his rock anymore.
Both he and John were always taking from Dean, laying burdens on him and never gave back as much as they took. His childhood years of innocence. His hopes and dreams destined to never be fulfilled. Any hope of genuine, lasting happiness.
Sam was a fool not to have seen it sooner. They were slowly bleeding him dry over the years. That last order of his father's would be the deathblow if Sam forced Dean to follow through on it. Family was always what mattered most to Dean. John effectively made Dean promise to destroy that which he held most dear. And Sam had tried to do the very same thing. Yes, it was time to deal with his own problem. Time to be brave…
"You can't tell me what to do, Dean," Sam says, as evenly as he can.
"Oh, so I can't tell you what to do, but you can order me around? You try to pull off this shit cuz I won't do what you tell me to?"
"That isn't it," Sam says, trying to defend his actions.
"Sure as hell looks that way to me."
Sam turns around, faces his brother and looks him in the eye, the ultimate sign of sincerity. "I'm sorry, Dean. I was wrong."
Dean doesn't get it at first. "No shit. Like running off would -"
"I mean about…the promise you made to dad," Sam explains. "And trying to make you keep it."
"Damn right you were."
"But I'm still leaving."
"What the hell has gotten into you?" Dean asks, this time getting off his bed.
Sam takes a few steps back, bracing himself for an altercation. He's not quite sure if Dean will resort to physical means to get him back into the room. He wouldn't put it past his brother. Dean however pauses as he catches sight of the note Sam left on his nightstand. Sam blanches as he reads it. Anger, hurt, betrayal, sadness - they all play across Dean's features. Sam looks away, not able to bear watching Dean's reaction.
"Well, at least you thought of me before you tried pulling off your little disappearing act," Dean says with a tremor in his voice.
"I didn't want it to be like this. But there's no other way."
Sam had scarcely finished the sentence before Dean leapt off the bed, closed the distance to the hall and grabbed him by the shoulders.
Dean shook him forcefully, as if trying to literally shake some sense into him. "We will find a way, Sammy. Okay? And if we can't, we'll just have to make one!"
"Dean, you're not thinking logically," Sam calmly says, trying to escape Dean's vice grip.
Dean however ignores Sam's statement, rambling on as if trying to convince himself more than anyone else, "Magic can do a lot of things. We haven't even scratched the surface there yet! Look at Meg. She - she said she learned some 'new tricks'. And she created a way to resist the exorcism, and the Devil's Trap."
"Dean…"
"We can learn some new tricks too! Or we can make up some new mojo, like Meg did with that binding link. Things we never tried before. Bobby can help us with that!"
Sam had never seen Dean act like this before. Not even when they were on the plane flight from hell. Dean's fear of flying had really worked a number on him back then. But this was different. Closer to irrational hysteria. This sight of it was very disturbing. Sam almost wished Dean was just plain mad as hell. Anything but this.
"Come on Dean, not in the hall," Sam says, easing Dean back into the room.
"You'll stay?"
Sam avoids answering the question, but drops his duffel onto the floor nonetheless. He couldn't in all clear conscience leave Dean when he was in this state. Must be all the alcohol in him, Sam figured.
"We'll find a way," Dean repeats, calmer this time around.
Sam sighed. "It's nice to have hope. But we have to be realistic here."
Dean just gazed at him vacantly, as if the notion of them not finding a way out hadn't occurred to him.
"If I turn one day, you won't be able to stop me. And you shouldn't be called upon to do it in the first place."
Dean was still silent and showed no indication of interrupting , so Sam took it as a sign to continue. "But even so, I can't allow myself to join hell and hurt people. Look at what I did… I mean -"
"That was MEG! A demon!" Dean exclaimed.
"For God's sake, Dean. I shot you, I beat the hell outta you and Bobby."
"First off, you did not beat the hell outta me. Bobby - um - yeah. But in any case, what part of DEMON POSSESSED don't you get?" Dean asked in frustration.
"Yes. Yes it was a demon. But evil is evil. One day that could be ME doing those kinds of things, Dean. Who's to say I won't be just as bad, or worse?"
Dean scoffed. "You feel guilty surfing the net for porn, Sam. You expect me to believe you're a top candidate for the Antichrist?"
"The Demon has plans for me, Dean. For all of the psychics. And at least some of them turned - did…horrible things."
"And what about the others, huh? The ones who didn't. You sayin' they're better people than you are - cuz that is a load a bull if I ever heard it."
That precipitated an awkwardly long silence, as both Sam and Dean mulled over that statement.
"You think so little of yourself? Huh, Sam?"
"I…don't."
"You know, I been thinking', Sam."
"Oh?"
"About those psychics. The ones who turned. They weren't possessed in the least."
Sam nodded in agreement. "Right."
"I think the ones who turned, I think the reason they turned was cuz of the lives they'd lived screwed them up. I mean, circumstances change people. And they all had some pretty fucked up lives."
Sam couldn't deny that. Max Miller for one came to mind. Sam still had dreams about him. Poor kid…
Dean continued, "And I noticed that the ones who didn't - like Andy - they were so at peace with themselves. You know? Like…they were in balance or something. And they didn't even hear the voice of the Demon tellin' them to do bad things."
That was true, Sam admitted. They were genuinely nice people. And unlike the psychics who'd led troubled lives, they didn't hear voices in their head urging them to commit unspeakable acts.
"What I'm trying to say is, you have to stop acting like it's all set in stone. If they can find ways to resist the Demon, so can you."
Sam wanted to believe that. But still…
"What if - what if they just haven't turned yet? What if they will later on? They - I could be carrying around the seed of evil. It could just be waiting to sprout when the time is right for the Demon."
Dean frowned, angered at what he perceived to be Sam's paranoia.
"It would look like they are immune from his influence to you, Dean" Sam continued, "but we could all have evil lurking inside us, just waiting to lash out."
Dean grew stern once more. "Don't give me that looks can be deceiving shtick. You turned your back on the hunt. You only just took it up again."
"What the hell? You want to bring up that old shi -"
Dean glared at Sam, daring him to interrupt. "Since I was twelve, the hunt became my life, Sam. I faced evil - TRUE EVIL. Over and over. And I damn well know what it looks like. And you, you - ain't - it."
"But -"
"The next time I catch you trying some shit like this, you're getting the same kinda treatment Meg got. Chair, rope, bitch slaps and all," Dean said with a threatening tone and glance that made Sam tremble - just a little.
Sam tried to salvage some of his determination, and failed. "I…I made up my mind. You can't tell me what to do and -"
"Tell? Whoever said I planned to keep you here with words if you're stubborn?" Dean said, cracking his knuckles. The sound elicited an involuntary gulp from Sam.
"Now unpack your shit. We ain't done with this case yet. We'll be in town for another week at least," Dean says, confident he's made his point. He gets back into bed.
Sam slowly complies, and admits to himself that what Dean said had credit. If other psychics could resist the Demon's influence - then he could too.
Dean takes up the note once more, and reads a line or two from it. "One last thing, Sam. If you EVER hurt the Impala, I'll -"
"You'll kill me?" Sam asks with a nervous grin.
"No. I'll make you wish I would. Now turn off that damn light. I gotta sleep off this booze."
Sam quickly switched off the bedside lamp and settled on his bed. They'd find a way. Together…
The End.