The idea for this one hit me so fast and so hard that I couldn't not write it.
Title: Bedevilled
Summary: Sam wanted to save his brother, and he'd finally found a way. It was a bad idea, Dean said, but Sammy wouldn't let it go. After all, if their dad could do it, then why couldn't Dean[Most likely a one-shot
Rating: K+
Warning: Spoilers for The Magnificent Seven
A/N: This is probably going to be a one-shot, even though I have ideas to expand the story. i really want to get my Halloween fic finished before I work any more on this one. Alert it if you're interested. That way you'll know if I decide to continue.
Disclaimer: The show isn't now, nor has it ever been, mine.
Bedevilled
He hated himself. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, knew that it was wrong. He didn't care about right and wrong any more, though. His brother was dead. His brother was dead, and he had been left alone to carry on.
He didn't want to be alone. He'd felt alone his whole life. He was tired of being isolated, of never being understood, of wanting for something so badly and never quite being able to attain it.
He wanted his brother back. He wanted Dean.
That was why he was at the cemetery, knife hanging loosely from relaxed fingers, still tacky with the blood of the girl he'd killed to get it. He hoped that Dean was still there, still waiting for his freedom.
It had taken Sam longer than he'd thought it would to track down Ruby, even longer to actually kill the girl. She was tougher than she looked, that was for sure. In the end he'd been triumphant, though. In the end, he'd killed her with the same blade that had shed the blood of many demons since the first Devil's Gate had been opened.
Sam stared at the crumbling building in front of him. He still couldn't believe that he was there, couldn't believe that he could even consider what he was about to do. When the plan had first started to form in his mind, he'd been horrified. What was wrong with him? Didn't he realize that people could die? And for what? Dean. Of course.
Because no one else mattered.
At first, the older hunter had been against the plan and had fought tooth and nail to stop Sam from going through with it. But little brother was stubborn, and wouldn't be stopped. In the end, Dean had relented. He'd agreed to meet Sam at Stull Cemetery ten days after being taken, had agreed to try and make it to the door, to try and get out.
It was a brilliant plan. If their father could do it, why couldn't Dean? The only problem was that the Colt was no good as a key. They needed something else for this door.
Dean had died while Sam was tracking down Ruby and her little knife. He'd died alone. That was something Sam would never forgive himself for, because it really was unforgivable.
He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight. Midnight on the eleventh day after Dean's death. He hoped he wasn't too late.
Slowly, the hunter stepped up to the Gate, swiping at his eyes as he thought again of all of the innocent lives that could be lost. He slid the key in and turned it, taking his hand from the hilt and backing slowly away as the pentagram spun like a combination lock.
He didn't bother to duck behind a tombstone. He didn't want Dean to miss him. He just stood in the graveyard, hands in his pockets, and waited. The lock clicked. The door began to jiggle, the force of the shaking increasing steadily until the blade had fallen from its place.
Sam took another step back as the doors to Hell flew open and a black cloud of smoke rushed out at him. He stood his ground, searching the writhing black mass for a familiar face.
One tendril of smoke broke off from the herd as the protective Devil's Trap holding them all in shattered with the force of the hellish souls. It swirled around him, whispering his name with a deep, familiar voice before sliding back toward the door. Sammy smiled and followed it.
The cloud of smoke had pressed itself up against one of the doors and was starting to push it shut. "You cut right to the chase, don't you?" Sam asked, unable to keep the smile off his face. He leaned against the other door, battling against a few last-minute arrivals to close the Gate.
After what seemed an eternity, the lock clicked again. Sam slid down the door and gazed up at the starry sky. It had worked. He'd been right. He glanced at his brother, that smile returning to his face, his heart pounding with excitement, absolutely giddy as everything sank in. Dean was back. He was gonna be fine.
"Come on," Sam said, standing up and brushing himself off, "just like we planned." The cloud snuck toward him a bit, but still hung back, as if afraid to get any closer. "Dean. It's OK. Look, if it's not gonna be me, it's gonna have to be someone else. Neither of us wants to put someone through that. Just do it."
He braced himself as the cloud of smoke surged toward him, rushing at his face, forcing his mouth open, moving into him, invading him, possessing him. Sam closed his eyes against the familiar feeling, the feeling of loosing control, the one that had accompanied Meg.
This was different, though, as he'd hoped it would be. This wasn't cold and terrifying. It felt warm and right, like Dean just fit into his subconscious. It made sense, he supposed. After all, they'd grown up together, lived most of their lives together. They completed each other. Of course it wouldn't feel weird, wouldn't feel wrong. It was Dean.
His eyes snapped open and he gasped, feeling himself slipping farther into his mind, letting Dean look around, get a sense of his surroundings. That warmth rushed through his system again, accompanied by a sense of safety. Everything was going to be all right.
And then Dean was right beside him in his head, backing off, letting him have his body. "It's yours," he whispered, "take it."
"We could always share," Sam pointed out, surprised to hear himself speaking out loud, his voice echoing eerily in the empty graveyard. "I'll take Saturdays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can take the rest."
"Wednesdays, huh?" Dean's voice whispered in his head, wrapping him in the comfort of familiarity, the love of family. He could feel his brother's smile playing across his own lips. "You're not gonna force me to watch 'America's Next Top Model,' now, are ya?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam said, realizing that if anyone was walking by, he would seem crazy, talking to himself in the middle of an abandoned cemetery. "You know, you weren't the only one that got out."
"Yeah. You have any idea how hard it is to make small talk with those things while waiting for the gates of Hell to open up? I swear, not one had a sense of humor."
Sam snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You know what this means, though, right?" he asked, trudging out toward the Impala.
He felt Dean grin again, felt his brother's joy at approaching the car, the only thing that had ever really stayed constant in his life. "We've got work to do." He could feel the older man's shock at hearing the words spoken aloud.
Sam smiled, happy to sink back into himself and let Dean slide large hands over the hood of the car, savoring the way the metal felt so cool to the touch after over a week in the fires of Hell. The older man searched Sam's pockets for the keys, and, grinning broadly, pulled them out.
He unlocked the door and slid in behind the wheel, adjusting the rearview mirror. "Didja miss me, baby?" he cooed, turning the key in the ignition, loving the way the car roared to life. He leaned back in the seat and gazed into the rearview, into his brother's sparkling eyes, eyes that now looked haunted and tortured with a lifetime of hurt and abandonment, ten days in Hell. "So, who we gonna tell about this, Sammy?"
Sam shrugged, letting himself sink a little farther back, letting the feeling of his brother surround him, loving the closeness he felt to the man, the proximity. "No one, I guess. Who'd believe us, anyway?"
"Probably for the best," Dean reasoned, smiling as he felt Sam relax into him, felt them meld closer together as his brother settled in for the first good night's sleep he would have in a long time. "Wouldn't want to get exorcised, would we?"
That got Sam to perk back up. "No."
"Relax," Dean said quickly, scrabbling to regain control after hearing the fear in his brother's voice spoken aloud, "it's not gonna happen. I won't let it." He lowered his voice. "I'm not going back there. Not for a good, long time."
Sam nodded. "I'm gonna make sure of that."
Sighing, Dean put the car in gear and backed away from the cemetery. He glanced up at the sky, watching as one last cloud sailed off through the air, undoubtedly heading toward some unsuspecting town. Yeah. They had work to do.
So, what do you think? Sorry it'll take me so long to maybe update. Reviews are appreciated :)