Sam stood at his brother's shoulder watching the bones of Abigail Carmichael burn into ash in the basement of the abandoned school. As salt and burns go, this one had been pretty easy. In life, the woman had been a beloved teacher, murdered and hidden in the school by an obsessed janitor. Abigail's ghost had drawn attention to evidence that identified the man who had killed her, and once justice had been served, she seemed content to have the Winchesters put her to rest.
This kind of job brought a lot of satisfaction to Sam. They had helped capture a murderer, prevented him from hurting anyone else and gave peace to a woman who deserved it. He glanced over at his brother in the shadowy light and saw the same feelings evident on Dean's face too.
"Feels good, huh Sammy, to do our job. Cut and dried - helping people," said Dean turning slightly to catch his eye.
Sam smiled at Dean, relishing the closeness he felt with his brother. Despite everything looming with the Darkness, the spell that Cas was recovering from, and his visions from God, Sam felt like maybe his life didn't suck as badly as usual. "And for once neither of us are bruised, broken or bleeding," Sam said with a soft smile in his voice.
Dean smiled back, the real smile that Sam knew was reserved especially for him, and then bent to pick up the weapons bag. Abigail's bones had burned out and it was time to go. Together they walked back up the stairs, shoulders brushing companionably. They turned the corner into a hallway lined with broken lockers and doors leading to classrooms. Dean stopped, holding his hand up bringing both brothers to a halt. "Hear that?" Dean asked quietly.
Sam did hear a whooshing, crackling noise, kind of like a fire on a gusty night, but with a strange humming as part of the sound. Silently he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. Dean did the same and the two men crept towards the classroom door where the sound seemed to be coming from. With a steady palm Dean pushed open the door to room 14. In the middle of the broken desks and chairs was a large glowing disturbance. It hissed, buzzed and popped as it shimmered in the dark room. "It looks like some kind of portal," Sam whispered as they spread out a bit and walked closer to examine the strange phenomenon.
"Do you think it's - " Dean began but was cut off when two people rushed from behind a fallen table, grabbed Dean and leapt into the portal. The three figures disappeared with a loud pop and a brief flash of blue light.
"Dean!" Sam felt his heart stop as his brother's name was ripped from his throat. He lunged towards the portal determined to follow wherever Dean had been taken when he was roughly tackled from behind, knocking his gun from his hands. Frantically Sam turned toward his attacker, throwing a wild punch. He felt his fist connect and he shoved himself free, ready to jump into the portal when it wavered, and then blinked out of existence. There was a sudden silence, the absence of the portal's constant buzz-hum was like an echo in the dark room. Sam scrambled to his gun and turned, ready to extract some answers from one of the people who stole his brother. His chest was heaving in shock and fear and his breathing sounded loud in the now quiet room as he climbed to his feet, never taking his eyes off of his assailant.
"Calm down, Sam, your brother is fine," said a voice from the shadows. Sam's hands were rock steady as he held his gun on the man who was also slowly getting up from the floor. The stranger's hands were weaponless and held up in submission. With a careful eye on Sam, the man righted two chairs and sat down in one. Motioning Sam towards the other one, "If you'll just listen, I'll tell you everything."
Sam weighed his options. He wanted to shoot this man for acting so casually when Dean had just disappeared to God knows where. Every nerve was screaming at him to move, run, do something to find Dean. But, with a few calming breaths, Sam took a couple of steps towards the man. The moonlight from the broken window bathed the two of them and Sam could see that the stranger was a regular looking guy. He seemed to be in his early-forties, with brown hair, brown eyes and he moved with the efficiency of a soldier. Gun still firmly aimed at the stranger, "Where's my brother," Sam demanded.
The other man's eyes grew wide when he saw Sam's face clearly in the moonlight. "Holy shit, you look exactly like him," breathed the guy.
Losing patience, Sam gestured with his gun, "Start talking, or I'll make you talk." In his mind he knew that he sounded like a character in a bad cop movie, but he didn't care. Dean was missing which meant that there was nothing Sam wouldn't say or do to get his brother back.
"Ok, ok," the guy said, putting his hand back up in a placating way. "My name is Christopher Markham and I'm from what you would consider an alternative version of your world."
"What?," stuttered Sam.
"Look, in my world the year is 2011. We've been in a war since the Apocalypse happened, but we're in a stalemate with Lucifer's forces. The higher ups came up with a plan that could turn the tide and maybe take that bastard down once and for all. But we needed your brother. So, we came here and borrowed him."
Sam felt his knees grow a little weak so he carefully lowered himself to the chair Christopher had provided. Lucifer!, Sam thought. The Apocalypse happened? Why, what was different? His thoughts were frenzied. Lucifer wasn't in the cage in that timeline? Had the alternative version of himself said Yes? More importantly, what did they want Dean for - as a vessel for Michael?
"What do you want my brother for?," he asked Christopher harshly. "He won't say Yes to Michael if that's what you think."
"Nah, that ship sailed ages ago. Michael has a vessel, some kid from Minnesota, and he's been marshalling his troops against Lucifer, but the toll it's taking on us humans is getting bad. And the angels aren't so fussed about how many of us get killed in the crossfire. So we had to come up with a way to stop big, bad Satan before he can rip the world apart completely."
Christopher's tone was flippant, but Sam could see from his expression that there was a lot of pain and anguish hidden in his words. Now that he could see the man's eyes, he knew he was looking at the face of a battle-worn soldier, desperately clinging to a thin shred of hope. Sam finally lowered his hand, his gun resting loosely on his thigh as his brain tried to make sense of the information. As always, his thoughts were with his brother first.
"So where is the Dean from your timeline?," Sam asked.
Christopher's brown eyes darted away briefly before returning to Sam's hazel ones. "Our Dean didn't survive the Michael/Lucifer showdown at the cemetery," he said simply.
In a blinding flashback of memory, Sam could feel his brother's blood on his hands and the bones of Dean's face smashing under his fists. He remembered Cas exploding, spraying blood and viscera everywhere, the sound of Bobby's neck snapping...Sam shuddered.
"What about Bobby or Castiel?," Sam asked hesitantly.
"Well, I wasn't there, but what I've been told is that Lucifer and Michael were set to toe off against each other when Dean and Bobby Singer showed up. I don't know exactly what happened, but Bobby and Dean were killed. Lucifer opened the gates of Hell releasing hoards of demons and hellhounds. Then supposedly the angel Castiel showed up with some angel friends who tried to stem the tide. In all that mess Lucifer escaped. Michael retreated back to heaven with the angels to regroup." A bitter smile crossed Christopher's face. "We humans did what we could, but what with the fires, earthquakes, electrical storms and floods, we didn't stand much of a chance. The hellhounds are relentless and since demons can possess almost anyone..," his voice faltered and Sam could see sadness and grief drift across his face. The soldier obviously had some horrible memories of his own. When he found his voice again Christopher continued. "It got bad, but some Hunters stepped up, started organizing some resistance and training people. Michael returned with more angels and we gained a little ground, but we haven't been able to stop Lucifer from decimating the planet." He shrugged his shoulders. "That's where we are now."
"So what's the plan? Why do you need my Dean?, How can he make a difference?," Sam asked, mind racing.
"No idea, it's above my pay grade. Look, my mission was simple. Come here with my team, and get Dean. My instructions were to hang out here and wait 5 of your days. Then the portal will re-open, Dean will come back, and I'll get to go back home." Christopher stretched out his legs as if settling in to wait. His eyes studied Sam's face, "I have to admit, it's totally freaky to be sitting here having a conversation with someone who looks exactly like Lucifer." The older man didn't seem to notice how Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Christopher leaned closer to Sam, "So, how come you're not the Prince of Lies in this timeline? I guess you didn't say Yes to the big question here."
"Actually I did," said Sam with a small sad smile. He saw Christopher's eyes widen with shock and fear. "But, I was able to take control from him and jumped us both back into the cage."
"Then how the hell are you sitting here alive?," breathed the brown eyed soldier, admiration and apprehension both shining in his eyes.
Sam had thought a lot about this question over the years. There were a lot of ways he could answer, but at its core, there was really only one reason why. "My brother," Sam answered simply. Of course there was so much more to that story - pain and fear, love and torment, guilt and redemption, his soul and insanity, but Sam wasn't going to discuss such dark and intensely personal history with a complete stranger.
"Jesus….no wonder we needed him," Christopher huffed in awe. The two men stared at each other in the shadowy room, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Eventually, the older man shook his head and pulled towards himself a large backpack that Sam hadn't noticed before. Sam's hand tightened on the gun he still held gripped in his palm. "Relax," said Christopher, noticing the movement "I'm just getting a snack." His eyes still on Sam, the soldier began opening his pack. "Hey, do you still have pizza in this time -" Without warning a small black creature with red eyes leapt out of the pack. Sharp clawed hands slashed at Christopher's throat and the man's words became a burble of blood.
Instinctively Sam pulled Ruby's knife from his jacket and and threw it at the Imp. His aim was true and the small body jerked to the floor, as the life sparked out of the demonic creature. Sam was on his feet and crouching beside Christopher in mere moments, but he could see there was nothing to be done. The soldier's eyes were glassy and unfocused even as his hands still limply clutched the gaping wounds on his throat. Sam put his own hands against the man's throat, but the imp's claws had practically decapitated the poor guy and Sam knew that there was no hope. Before he had even fully formed that thought, Christopher's eyes lost focus and his body relaxed into death. Sam sighed and let go of the soldier's throat, wiping the thick blood from his hands onto his jeans.
Sam retrieved his knife from the dead creature before it's body shrivelled and then collapsed into a pile of ash. With a cautious toe, he poked the pack again, but it seemed like the evil stowaway was the only one and that the danger had passed. Coming down from the adrenaline that had been pumping through him, Sam looked sadly at the man lying in the pool of blood at his feet. Christopher had seemed like a decent guy, just doing his job. And now that he was dead, so was his source of information. Sam still had many more questions about how the portal worked, what Dean was facing in the alternate world, and exactly how and when his brother was going to come back.
Feeling slightly guilty, Sam dug through Christopher's pockets for any additional clues. He found a photo of the dead man, arm around a pretty red haired woman. On the back of the photo, in delicate handwriting were the words "Be safe, I'll miss you. Love Katie." Sam carefully tucked the picture into one of his inside jacket pockets. Then he searched through the bag that had ultimately contained Christopher's assassin. There were no answers inside the backpack, just the clothes and equipment needed for a week long mission. The tools of a soldier who planned to make it home.
He scrubbed a still bloody hand over his face and sighed again. The school might be abandoned, but Sam couldn't risk leaving a body that might be found, since he needed to be back in this room in 5 days. Using a tarp from the pack, he rolled up the cooling body and gathered up both his and the other man's gear. Lifting the grisly burden over one shoulder and slinging the bags over the other, Sam made his way to the Impala, grateful that he had the spare keys with him. With the dead man in the backseat, he started the car and drove out towards the country, looking for a secluded place for a pyre. As his brother's car rumbled down the blacktop, Sam offered a silent prayer that Dean was alive and well and that he stayed that way.