And another episode of "When Plot Bunnies Attack". This idea hit me, and I couldn't get rid of it so I wrote it down.
Not a "Deal" fic. It starts pre-series but picks up with the series beginning later on. AU, will be rather long, and quite weird.
When faced with a terrible personal tragedy, one Winchester brother unwittingly starts down the path to a different kind of Hell.
Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada yada
Please let me know what you think.
A Different Kind of Hell
November 2002
Palo Alto, California
Sam woke with a start, groaned, and groggily reached up to rub his stiff neck. He had fallen asleep at his desk, using one of his open textbooks as an impromptu pillow, and briefly wondered if he, as his friends often teased, would look in the mirror and see the text transferred to his face like some sort of weird rub-on tattoo.
He looked around, blearily, and saw that his roommate, Luis, was in a similar situation at his own desk. Sam grinned. They had both been studying hard for this week's exams, suffering through long nights and junk food binges, but Sam couldn't be happier. He was in his element, working his way towards his dream of a normal, no, safe life.
A sudden loud knock on the door startled Sam out of his reverie and prompted an annoyed "The Hell…?" from Luis. He sat up and gave Sam a confused look.
"You expecting somebody?" Sam shook his head as whoever it was knocked again, louder. Luis growled out something unintelligible as Sam went to see who it was.
When he opened the door, the absolute last person he expected to see was standing in the hallway. He stood frozen in denial for a brief second before forcing out a single word.
"Dad?"
He heard Luis scramble to his feet and step up behind him as he stared at the man whose last words to his son had been "never come back." He felt panic, quickly followed by anger. John was here to drag him back into the hunt, he was sure of it. How dare he…?
Sam met his father's eyes and received an even greater shock. They held none of the anger and determination Sam had associated with his father for as long as he could remember. The skin around John's eyes was dark and sunken, and Sam saw that the rest of his face was pinched, as if he had neither slept nor eaten for days, and his normally clean shaven face was marred with a weeks' worth of growth.
"Dad? What--?"
John raised his arm and for a brief moment Sam thought his father was going to hit him until he saw that John's fist was loose, as if he were holding something. Hesitantly, Sam held out a hand and felt a metal object fall into his open palm. When he saw what it was, he gasped and looked up at his father, not wanting to believe what this meant. John cleared his throat.
"I…I know you gave that to him. He would have wanted you to have it." Without another word, he turned and walked down the hall. Sam stood stock still has he watched his father's departing back, tears welling in his eyes.
No. No, it can't…he isn't…he left me a message two weeks ago...how…?
"Sam?" Luis' voice broke through his panicked thoughts. "Was that --?
Without a word, Sam raced down the hall after his father, unmindful of Luis' protests and shouted questions, his brother's amulet still clutched in one hand.
When he reached the parking lot, he saw his father opening the door of the Impala. Sam ran up to him and grabbed his shoulder and John slowly turned to face his youngest son.
"What the hell happened?" Sam shouted, his voice shaking with fury. "Did you mess up? Did you get him killed, you and your damn obsession? Did you?!"
John just stared at Sam, his face unreadable and unresponsive to Sam's fury. Slowly he lowered his eyes.
"You shouldn't be out here without shoes on, Sammy." The tone of his father's voice brought Sam's rage of emotion to an abrupt halt. He had never heard him sound like that.
"What…?"
"Go back inside. Back to your friends, back to your new life. It's what you wanted. Someone in this family should get what they want. It might as well be you. Go." He turned and climbed into the car before slamming the door with a finality that Sam felt in the depth of his heart.
The engine roared to life and the huge black car that had been his home left him behind with a screech of tires, its' taillights fading and finally disappearing into the night.
Sam was broken from his daze by Luis.
"Sam? What the hell, man? Who was that? What--?"
"Not now," growled Sam. He turned, brushing past his friend, and marched back to his room.
He opened his footlocker, shoving aside books and clothes before he found the small notebook Dean had slipped into his pocket before he had left home for good. He flipped to the first page, pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the number, ignoring Luis' return. It rang three times before a voice from his childhood answered.
"Hello?"
"Pastor Jim?" He caught Luis' puzzled look and waved him away. Luis took the hint and left.
"Sam? What's wrong? Where are you?" Sam huffed, trying to keep the tears and panic out of his voice.
"School. Dad was just here, and he…Dean…" Sam struggled to remain coherent. "Do you know what happened?" He heard a sigh on the other end.
"We were wondering where John went. Sam, I'm sorry." The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over and tracked down Sam's cheeks.
"Please, just tell me what happened. What were they hunting?"
"They weren't, Sam. They weren't."
"What?"
"They decided to stay in one place for awhile, to recover after a particularly difficult hunt I guess. Some little town in southwestern Colorado. Dean and John both got jobs at a garage, they were renting a house, living as close to normal as your family gets. They had been in town for three months when Dean disappeared."
"Disappeared? But I thought--?"
"John came back to the house one night and the place was a wreck. Dean must have put up a heck of a fight, but the only trace John found was the amulet Dean always wore. He called Caleb and Joshua, and they called me. We all searched for Dean, but he just… vanished. No trace of what took him, either. John was devastated. A couple of days ago he just up and left. Caleb started to try and track him, but…"
"He showed up here about 15 minutes ago. He…he gave me Dean's necklace and…left. He told me to go back to my new life and he left!" Sam's voice cracked as the anger came back. "How could he do that? How--?"
"Sam…I'm not going to excuse him, but…I never saw your father like that before, the way he was when we all realized Dean was gone. I think it finally broke him. I never thought it would happen, after everything he has seen, but…I guess everyone has their breaking point. I'm sorry." Sam clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline. A lifeline to the only family he had left. He made a decision.
"Where in Colorado?"
"Sam…"
"Where were they living in Colorado? My father might be ready to give up on Dean, but I'm not. Where--?"
"Sam." Pastor Jim's voice had suddenly taken on an edge, one Sam had only heard a few times, usually directed at John. "There's nothing you can do. Believe me, we tried. We searched everywhere. No one knows how to search better than your father. Dean's gone, Sam. Remember him as he was. He wouldn't have wanted anything else."
Sam sat in silence, thinking back to the last time he had seen his brother. Dean had asked only one thing: Make me proud, Sammy.
"Sam?"
"Yeah, OK. I just wish…"
"We all do, Sam. We all do."
"Pastor Jim? Thank you…for everything."
"Please, if you ever need anything, just call. I'll do what I can. Sam, your brother…he was one of a kind. And he loved you more than anything. Just remember that, OK? He wanted you to be happy."
"I know."
"Take care of yourself, Sam."
"I…I will. Thanks."
He snapped the phone shut, breaking the connection to his old life for the last time. He knew he'd never call again. It would hurt too much. He would take care of himself, and he would do what Dean had asked.
He would make his brother proud.
November 2002
Somewhere in southwestern Colorado
Dean slowly opened his eyes, expecting darkness, and the white brightness of the room was shocking. He gasped and blinked several times to clear his vision before examining his surroundings.
Hospital. What…where…Dad…?
A flicker of movement to his left drew his attention, and when he turned his head he saw a middle aged man with thinning hair and wire rimmed glasses perched on a crooked nose, dressed in a lab coat.
"Ah, good to see you awake, Dean. How are you feeling?"
What kind of stupid question is that? I'm in a freaking hospital, I can't be feeling too good.
"I, uh…" Damn, my throat hurts. "What happened?"
"You were in an accident, so. Do you remember?" Accident? Oh, no…
"My Dad…where is he? Is he OK?" He caught a glimpse of the doctor's expression and felt a horrible twist in his stomach.
"No…no, please, don't…"
"I'm so sorry, Dean. Really, truly sorry." Dean stared at him, his young face crumpling in grief.
"How?" he managed to ask.
"The driver of another vehicle, a truck, apparently lost control. He hit the driver's side of your father's car. You were ejected from the vehicle, but it was dragged by the truck down into a ravine. There were no other survivors. I'm sorry."
Stop saying that…
"My brother…I need to call my brother. He needs to know--."
"Dean, your brother was in the car." Dean froze, staring at the doctor in horror.
"What? No, that's impossible. Sammy's at college, he--."
"I'm sorry, I should have realized. Short-term amnesia is to be expected after the type of injury you sustained."
"I think I'd remember my brother coming back from college! You're wrong. Sammy wouldn't be with us. He wasn't with us!"
"Dean, there were three bodies recovered from the wreckage, one from the truck and two from the car. They have all been positively identified. Your brother is dead, Dean. I'm very--."
"Don't tell me you're sorry! You don't know how...you don't know my family!"
"Actually, I do. Or rather, I knew your father." Shocked into temporary silence, Dean stared at the doctor, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"How?"
"I knew him back when I was in his unit, but we met up again a few years ago. He helped me with a little problem. I know what your family did, what they hunted. They were good people." He leaned in closer his face set with a sympathetic expression. "I feel your loss, and I'd like to help you."
"Help me?" Dean snorted in disgust, tears running down his face. "No one can help me. All the evil that I've put down and it didn't make one damn bit of difference."
"Dean…I am in a position to help you make a difference. You, and all of the other hunters like you, are severely outnumbered, outgunned, and at the mercy of evil things which shouldn't exist, but do. I can help you turn the tables, give you advantages you've never had before."
"Yeah, right…and why should I believe you?"
"Why shouldn't you? I know you've never been a position to trust outsiders. I have had the same problem. No one believes what we know to be true. But I do believe I can trust you. I need you to believe I can help you. We can make a difference, eliminate the evil that has plagued your family since you were a child."
"How?" Dean didn't really care. His mind kept going back to his own loss. He wasn't sure he could go on without his family. He felt lost, empty, his whole bleak life stretching out before him. He was alone.
"By helping you reduce your disadvantages when facing the supernatural."
"Again, how?"
"I've been working on the development of certain…enhancements."
"Enhancements? Like what? Purer holy water? Higher grade salt? You're nuts. Leave me alone."
"I assure you, I am not 'nuts'. It's my area of expertise, and you are the perfect candidate."
"Candidate? For what?"
"We can talk about that later. For now, just get some rest." The doctor's expression softened. "I know you're grieving, Dean. I understand. I've lost family to evil, too. But if we work together, we can continue the fight your father started. Your family won't have died in vain. I hope you'll be willing to work with me." He turned away from Dean's bed and walked towards the door.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Do you really think…would my Dad have worked with you?" The doctor smiled.
"Yes, I think he would have. I think he would have embraced whatever was necessary to find your mother's killer." Dean winced at the mention of his mother by a stranger, but after a few moments he nodded.
"OK. I'll do it for Dad. And Sammy. Whatever it takes."
"Thank you." He opened the door and a nurse came in, walking over to Dean's bed and checking his vitals. The doctor gave him one last smile before walking out into the hallway, leaving Dean to his grief.
"Well? Did he agree?" Dr. Smith turned to see another man in a lab coat approaching.
"Yes, he did, although he is unaware of the details."
"He doesn't need the details. Besides, we have him here, everything is ready, so we didn't really need his assent."
"True, but it works out better in the long run if the subject is at least partially willing. We give him a purpose, one he understands, and he'll be pretty much unshakable in his focus on the cause."
"I'm not so sure about you feeding his delusions. I mean, all this, all what we're planning to do to him, and he thinks it's for fighting monsters? Seems risky."
"Monsters come in all forms, Dr. Jones. Human monsters can be much worse than any delusion. It shouldn't be hard for him to make the transition."
"I suppose you're right. I'll let them know to get the Facility ready for him. I take it we'll be starting tomorrow?"
"I think that will be appropriate. I'll bring him in at oh-eight hundred hours."
"We'll be waiting."
Dr. Smith watched Dr. Jones (or whatever his real name was) walk back down the hall to the elevator. Smith waited until he was gone before dropping his professional smile and snorting in disgust.
Idiots, the lot of them.
All they cared about was their "War on Terror", creating new means, mechanical and human, to defeat those who threatened their lovely little illusions of safety. Smith had been brought on board to help create a certain type of weapon, one that would allow better access to secrets kept behind enemy lines. But he knew where the real war was, and it wouldn't be fought between countries, but between the Earth and Hell itself. He had read the accounts and prophesies, seen the signs, and he knew the truth.
A storm was coming.
If he could help those who fought against Hell, those who had dedicated their lives to stopping the evil that so few truly knew existed, then humans stood a much better chance of survival. He had managed to get in the position to realize this goal, and he now had the means to implement it: the son of a hunter, a hunter himself, who had grown up fighting in this war. He was their best hope. The enhancements Smith had planned for Dean would help him tip the scales in the hunter's favor. Knowledge and skills were important, but at the end of the day it never hurt to have an ace in the hole.
Dean Winchester would be that ace, and humans would win this game.
Come Hell or high water.