Title: The Darkest Mile
Rating: M
Summary/Prompt: Season 6 AU - What would you do to protect the ones you love? Sam and Dean face this question when Raphael decides he's tired of waiting and starts his own Apocalypse on earth. Can the boys find all the pieces to save Sam's soul and get Castiel the reinforcements he desperately needs to win against the powerful and corrupt Archangel or will they lose everything they've fought and suffered for?
Warnings/Spoilers: Takes place in Season 6 after Ep 13 "Unforgiven" A blend of AU and Season 6 spoilery spoilage throughout me mate's .. ARRGH!
A/N: I was re-watching the pilot for this season and thought WOW ... the motel rooms seem to be more upscale.
A/N: Ok so I was really re-watching the pilot for the first few minutes to see Jared's amazing half naked pull ups .. like you guys don't do it too!
A/N: I'm taking some creative license with the time frame of how long Sam has been back from hell in order to make pieces of my story fit. It was a last minuet change so if I missed some wording I'll find it and fix it. Also, if you've read any of my other fic's you'll know I pretty go with where the character's lead me so strap yourself in and hold on ... sometimes its a bumpy ride.
Please review and give feedback and I'm very excited to hear back on any criticism or advice or just comments in general. Thank you! RivikaStyx
I do not own Supernatural, the Winchesters, Castiel, Bobby or any another "cast member" from the TV Show that may creep in to my stories from time to time, but if I did I'd give them cookies every day!
The long black highway stretched out for miles as Dean pushes the Impala to top speeds, like a pack of hellhounds were on their tail, to get out of town and away from anything that might spike another memory for Sam again. Going back there was a mistake; he'd said it how many times?
"There's a reason we never hit a town twice Sam, dammit!"
Hunter rule #1 - never hit a town twice because they will remember you and shit always hits the fan. And man did it hit and splatter. Who knew Sam and the Campbell's wouldn't have completely ganked the spider bitch they'd been hunting, I mean seriously Sam was like RoboT1000SoulessDoucheBag and Grandpa SuckAss should have known that it ain't dead till it's been salted, burned, and you've watched the ashes for a few days to make sure no monster grows back from them. He looked over at Sammy, snoring softly in the passenger seat beside him, and sighed.
Two fucking weeks. Must be a record for bringing down a wall. The Great Wall of Sam, the only thing holding hell in check deep inside Sam's head, had cracked. And, for a brief few moments, Dean had experienced Sam's death all over again. Still shaky, still rattled, still fighting the fear, he'd managed to get Sam on his feet, their shit packed and into the Impala, and doing record setting speeds down the highway before he'd relaxed enough to let some of the tension go from his shoulders. He'd seen it, there in Sam's eyes; Hell. Anyone else would have cried 'seizure', but not Dean. Dean heard the screams in Sam's head, smelled the burning flesh, felt the searing pain, choked on the vile memories he knew Sam was reliving, the torture he himself had once dished out in order to get off the rack, which was probably something he knew Sam might have begged for, knowing it would have been a relief from what was happening to him in the cage, with two arch-angels taking their vengeance on a soul that didn't belong there to begin with.
Occasionally Sam would twitch in his sleep and his fists would knot up, Dean would tense, then relax when Sammy would twist more comfortably in the seat and sigh.
Freaking cosmic beings who can't build a wall for shit. Sorry sonsofbitches.
Dean rubbed his eyes as he blinked up at a sign - some such town, Ohio 5 miles it read. He'd been driving straight for over ten hours, Sam had barely budged.
He needed a beer, shower, and a bed and not necessarily in that order either.
Dean pulled into the motel and nudged Sam's shoulder. "Sammy, you alive?"
Sam shuddered, his huge frame curled in on itself for a moment and Dean strained to read his facial expression, not sure if Sam was conscious or what. Shortly Sam cracked opened his eyes and gazed around, his face confused.
"Where we at?" he asked, opening the door and stretching his aching muscles.
"Nowhere Ohio heading west on the 80, getting the hell away from bad mojo." Dean grumbled.
"We heading to Bobby's?"
"That's the plan," Dean said as he rounded the car.
"We gota plan?" Sam asked ruefully, Dean looked him hard in the eyes.
"It's the only game I got at the moment." Sam flinched, Dean lightened the mood with "Besides, I ate a burrito about two hours back and my pooper's been screaming at me since." Sam rolled his eyes.
"Figures. Thought I woke to a face full a road kill." Dean laughed and walked in to the office to check themselves into a room.
After a shower, he came out of the bathroom clad in nothing but a pair of jeans and tossed his shaving kit on the bed.
"Bathrooms all yours just watch the shower head, it sits pretty low." Sam nodded on his way in.
Dean took the opportunity to rummage through his duffel while his brother was taking his shower. He located the pill bottle at the bottom in a Ziploc where he kept his memento's of Lisa and Ben. Sighing heavily he extracted the pills and the picture, as was his nightly routine now, and gently laid a private kiss on the smiling features of the only woman and child on this planet that had accepted him at his lowest times and never questioned him.
The love and respect he housed so deep and close to his damaged and broken heart choked him for a second and nearly brought him to his knees. But the sound of the shower being turned off snapped him back to the here and now. He placed his picture under the bed, a jar of holy water and rosary beads on top and issued a silent, yet vigilant, prayer to Cas to keep them safe, one of a thousand he had said in the months he'd been gone from them.
Sam entered the room, baggy pajama bottoms, and a faded grey t-shirt clung to him like a second skin from being damp from the shower, and tossed his shaving kit back in his duffel bag. Dean cleared his throat and Sam turned to take the offered beer and then stopped.
"What's this?" he questioned as Dean held out the bottle of pills.
"Painkillers."
Sam's forehead scrunched in confusion. "M'not in pain Dean." Dean shook his head.
"Not for physical pain Sam."
Now here's the funny thing about Winchesters. They are not psychic's per se, Sam was a bit of fluke there what with the demon blood thing and all, but they do have an incredible way of silently communicating with each other. And right now Dean's eyes were saying 'Just take the damn pills' while Sam's were saying 'I don't want them Dean, I'm fine' and Dean answers back with ...
"Take them or I shove them down your throat."
Sam obediently dry swallows one pill as Dean urges him to chase it with his beer. Again silent communication occurs as Sam says 'Not supposed to take these with alcohol Dean' and Dean responds 'Seriously, you've ingested worse and lived through it' which elicits a Bitchface from Sam as he pops the top of the beer and takes a sip.
"Happy now?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I am." He flops down unceremoniously on the bed. "And now I'm going to sleep." Sam nods and sits down at the desk and opens his laptop.
He never told Dean that while he'd been soulless and running amuck amidst the public, he'd kept very detailed notes on all the cases he'd worked. He'd run on to several things that didn't make sense, some files that he was having a hard time getting into, and a ghost drive he'd created and locked down with passwords that seriously bugged the hell outa him. Now that Dean was asleep, and would be for several hours, Sam finally had enough undisturbed time to try to figure the mystery out.
Six hours later Sam was more frustrated than ever before. He'd managed to hack the files, but not the ghost drive, only to find more files that simply didn't add up.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked as he sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed sleep from eyes.
"This thing is a mystery." Dean almost laughed out loud. His geeky brother was staring at his laptop like he was ready to douse it with holy water and salt.
"Well Velma, think you can tear yourself away from the mystery machine long enough to grab some breakfast?" Sam twisted in his chair throwing an arm over the back of it and fixed Dean with an annoyed look.
"Sure Shaggy ..."
"Shaggy! Dude, seriously, I'm so Fred." Sam shook his head and grabbed his clothes heading towards the bathroom.
"You are definitely not Fred, but maybe Scooby instead."
"Definitely Fred, I saw a porn once where Fred and Daphne ..." Sam stopped and turned to Dean.
"Seriously, we've had this conversation before - Porn and Comic's are not real life Dean." Dean's expression was comical.
"Oh yeah, get dressed bitch. I need coffee and greasy eggs ASAP."
- I'm very narcissistic so please review -