Any Place I Needed To Go
They watch as Castiel draws a symbol in chalk on their motel room table. Each taking in the information just given to them by their angelic friend: Anna bent on killing Sam to stop Lucifer; Taking away his one true vessel.
"Really, Anna? I don't believe it" Dean says even though he does. He had still thought Anna was on their side. Another let down, and this one was gunning for his kid brother. As if they didn't have enough problems on their hands at the moment.
"It's true" Castiel ensures.
"So she's gone all Glen Close. That's awesome." Dean paces.
"Who's Glen Close?" Castiel asks, obviously and earnestly confused.
"No one. Just this psycho bitch who loves to boil rabbits."
Sam is sitting on one of the beds in the background. For the first time since Castiel told them the news, he speaks.
"So the plan to kill me, would it actually stop Satan?" Dean turns toward him at this. He should have known Sam would be considering it.
"No, Sam. Come on" Dean says.
Of course Sam expected the immediate shoot-down of such an idea by his brother, but Dean's voice slightly falters, not holding its usual total conviction. Normally that's the end of the discussion. This isn't normally. Castiel's presence deters him from saying what he's thinking at first. Such thoughts and words are between him and his brother, not for another party, but they are facing a real answer here. Sam pushes on.
"Dean, don't you think we should try everything here? This is Lucifer we're talking about, End of Days."
"Yeah, and we'll find another way."
"What other way?" Sam challenges.
Dean turns, eyes narrowing at him, "One that doesn't involve you getting imploded all over the universe by a psycho angel."
Sam lets out a frustrated breath, about to say something else when Dean purposefully beats him to it.
"I told you, Sam, no" he says, making sure he was clear, unwavering.
"You know this is all happening because of me. Maybe this is how I set it right. Take me out of the picture, and Lucifer's vulnerable. Maybe he can be stopped." Sam's voice was slightly climbing, hopeful and anxious. Dean was just getting pissed. He was not going there.
Sam stands up. "What is my life over billions of others?"
"You're talking about being killed, Sam" Dean states, stressing the reality of it.
"Maybe it should have happened a long time ago."
"Sam" Dean warns, locking eyes with his brother.
"Come on, Dean. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it." It's something that is never far from either's mind: What their Dad had told Dean. After everything Sam had done, after having faced it, it had never come to it. Because Dean wouldn't let it. But now…
Dean looks struck behind the anger on his face. It was a sucker punch. A low blow even.
"I told you…" he starts after quickly comprising himself. I told you I'd save you. But the rest goes unspoken as Sam interjects, already knowing what the words would be.
Even socially oblivious, Castiel can sense the tension in the room. The spell is almost complete. He clears his throat but it seemingly goes unnoticed.
Sam heard the prescribed response when Dean had initially shot him down. "Don't do this because you think you have to, because you think it's your job…"
That strikes Dean the worst. Sam's trying to get him to see his point, not solely piss him off, but to say that does more than anger him. It hurts. Still, Dean holds his bravado in check. This conversation needs to be over.
"It's not about what I have to do" he says lowly, "It's about what I don't."
"Dean" Sam begins.
"Drop it, Sam" Dean snaps
"Uh, excuse me" Castiel says.
"What?" the brothers almost shout in union. They had nearly forgotten the angel was there conducting the location spell. They turn to look at Castiel, who seems somewhat surprised.
He had felt awkward during the brothers' discussion, but he understood where each was coming from. If he had been in this same situation a year ago, he would have unquestioningly agreed with Sam. It would be a small sacrifice: One human life to potentially destroy Lucifer. It was the most righteous thing to do. Now however, he understood the other side, the human side, as complicated as it may be. Dean was not willing to sacrifice his brother. And that was not wholly unrighteous. It's why he himself had proclaimed to Anna that he would not allow her to kill Sam- because he cared for him too. Though he would never know the depth of devotion Dean shared with him, and he didn't want Dean hurt either.
"Cas, what do you think? Does Anna have a point?" Sam asks after sitting back down, a look of quiet defeat and disparity about him. Dean shoots him a glare. Enough.
"No. She's uh... Glen Close." It did nothing to relieve Sam.
"I don't get it. We're looking for the chick that wants to gank Sam. Why poke the bear?" Dean asks, switching topics and mood. Just like that, it was done.
"Anna will keep trying. She won't give up until Sam is dead. So we kill her first" Castile explains. He pours oil into the bowl and chants until there is a bright flash of red flame. He suddenly steps away from the table, leaning on the back of a chair, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Sam and Dean look at him with concern.
"I've found her" he states.
"Where is she?" asks Dean.
"Not where," he corrects, "When."
Fingers touch Dean's forehead. He feels pressure all around him then nothing. There's a sensation of falling rapidly, almost drunkenly. He has a split second to register that Michael, possessing his father, has zapped him back to current time. Then comes the thought of Sam. Sam saying his name through pain, holding the pipe protruding from him. Sam falling to the floor, blood coming out of his mouth, dead. That bastard arch angel had better kept his word to fix him and send him back. Unsure if his feet actually have purchase or not Dean opens his eyes, half expecting to be tumbling through the air, but he's not. He's half-leaning on one of the beds in their motel room. He scrambles upright and without thought he calls for his brother.
"Sam!"
"Here." Sam's voice. Small, almost scared, but alive. He turns in its direction. Sam is slumped in the corner by the door, seemingly just coming around and gathering his bearings. Dean rushes over and kneels in front of him. He grips Sam's shoulders. He looks down at Sam's shirt, hastily pulling fabric aside, hand brushing across the flesh underneath. No blood. No wound.
"I think I'm okay" Sam says sounding a little unsure. Dean hangs his head and lets out a relieved sigh. Dean looks back up at him, the relief plain on his face. It practically slams into Sam. He feels his chest grow tight. "C'mon" Dean says grabbing him under the arm and hauling him up. Hands lingering on his shoulders, Dean gives Sam a solid once over. Sam places a hand on his brother's arm and squeezes. I'm okay. Satisfied, Dean claps Sam on the shoulder.
"Where's Cass?" Sam asks.
"I don't know. I hope the son of a bitch has enough juice to get back" Dean replies, his voice a little shaky. He rubs a hand across his face. Sam sees it's shaking too.
"Well, I could use that drink now" Dean says after they lay a passed-out Castiel on one of the beds. Time travel was a bitch.
"Yeah" Sam agrees.
Dean pours two drinks and stands back next to Sam.
"Well...this is it," he says.
"This is what?"
"Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name and Mr. Comatose over there. It's awesome."
Sam inwardly flinches at being called a blood junkie. It's still a sore spot between them, for him especially since he now has to live with it. But there's something in his brother's voice again, something akin to hopelessness. Dean had given him the jist before Castiel returned, about Michael possessing the younger version of their father, talking to Dean. Something had changed in his brother after that. "It's not funny," Sam says.
"I'm not laughing" Dean replies, taking a drink. Sam sighs.
"They all say we'll say yes."
"I know. It's getting annoying." More frontage. Sam hoped that's all it was but he was beginning to worry. He shoved the feeling away.
"What if they're right?" Wanting comfort that this could still go their way.
"They're not" Dean states simply.
Sam goes on: "I mean, why, why would we, either of us? But...I've been weak before."
"Sam." Dean says it all in the one word: He's not going there again.
"Michael got Dad to say yes." Venturing.
"That was different. Anna was about to kill Mom."
Sam thought. "And if you could save Mom...what would you say?"
Dean looked at him then. His expression was indifferent, almost detached. Sam searched his eyes, pleading, verging on desperate, even if he doesn't know it. Dean's face softens.
Sam sits on the free bed. Dean pours another drink for himself, his back to his brother. He pauses.
"I do think about it." Dean says after moments of silence.
"What?" Sam looks to him, wondering.
"What Dad said. I think about it almost every damn day."
Oh. Sam looks down.
Dean turns and Sam's meets his eyes, thoughtful, waiting. "But not because of what you said earlier." Dean sighs, taking a seat next to his brother. Sam watches him.
"I don't know our next move. Hell, I don't know if we can win this," he admits looking down, "but I know we stand a better chance together. And I know what I'm not willing to do." He looks at Sam, eyes weary but bright, stoic and earnest. Sam remembers that look from many times in his life. The one that says everything without words- I need you. I won't let anything happen to you; He remembers the look on Dean's face in the cabin in 1978, and he wonders how he could have asked that of Dean. He doesn't know what will happen down the road any more than his brother and he is scared. But so is Dean, and he's looking at him like he's just happy he is alive, so he considers that a win for "Team Free Will."