No Burden is He to Bear
A sequel to Lay your Weary Head to Rest
Sam watched Dean sleeping on the couch. After the brutal assault by Lucifer, Dean couldn't hold off the exhaustion anymore. He had been drained completely. He tried to fight it, his worry about being so easily "accessed", as he put it, by Lucifer and potentially being a threat to them all coming to the forefront as it always did when loved ones and innocents alike were at stake, but Sam insisted that there was nothing Lucifer could do now since they had no plan. Dean relaxed at the slight attempt at humor and the truth behind it. That was enough to send him into unconsciousness.
Sam insisted on taking the next watch. If the truth were to be told, he needed to be reassured that Dean would still be there with them, to watch over him like Dean had done when they had been kids. They had fought so much, done so many things on their own mostly because of Sam's escapes to Ruby to do what he had foolishly convinced himself was the right thing. It had never truly felt like they were back together again and after what he had done he didn't know whether they would ever get back together as the brothers they had been. Sam hated that the initial joy of seeing and having Dean back, alive and whole, was almost immediately replaced by competitiveness, resentment and worst of all, jealousy that some one or some thing else had saved Dean not him. The one who was supposed to save him. Dean had been able to resurrect Sam, but Sam had been helpless to do anything for Dean. His soul had even been blatantly rejected. It made Sam feel even less valuable because no one had wanted him. Even the crossroads demon had mocked him that they had Dean right where they had wanted him and that nothing Sam could offer would change that. Little did he know then what the demon had meant, what the real reason was for keeping Dean in Hell. Once again, all Sam had thought it had been about was him, about, once again, being inadequate even in the eyes of demons. He couldn't have imagined that they had wanted Dean there to break him, to break the first seal.
When he had found out that an angel had lifted Dean from the pit on orders from God, it was like being slapped in the face. He had been praying, sincere in his belief or so he thought, and yet they had saved Dean. He hated that he had resented Dean for having been chosen to do the right thing, to save the world and that he had been left to fend for himself, allowed to fall into darkness. He was only now realizing what a stupid and selfish idiot he had been. Dean had had no choice and hadn't known that breaking in Hell would start the process of bringing on the Apocalypse. Sam, on the other hand, had made all the choices that had brought him to where he was now, where the world was now. Clearly everyone knew, but him that he wasn't deserving of any saving grace intervention. He had proven by his actions that any help offered to him would have been misconstrued as control, being told what to do, the kind of overbearing control that he had received from their father and that he had sworn to himself he would never let himself be subjected to again. Lifting Lucifer from Perdition had been his greatest accomplishment and he could blame no one but himself. What was the deadly sin he had faced? Of course, pride. It goeth before a fall, doesn't it?
He watched Dean sleep, no sounds emanating from him which made Sam worry at first. Once he saw the rise and fall of Dean's chest, he relaxed. He was so afraid of losing Dean again. If it was possible, even more than when Dean was facing Hell. Yes, he had been afraid then, but this time, they were facing a battle that looked, for now, as if only Dean could win or lose. Also, this time, there was a lot more guilt. Failing to save Dean from Hell that year was awful enough, but this time, Sam felt as if he had released the very weapon that could kill Dean. A dark and sinister Excaliber that had been pulled from the depths of Hell, and he, the evil-anointed Arthur that Ruby had said had to be the one to do it, that it had always been he who would give rise to Lucifer, that it had to be him. Knowing that he had had some kind of dark destiny after learning that he had been given demon blood, that his own father had told his brother to kill him if he couldn't save him was bad enough, but to learn that his destiny went as far into the darkness as to lift Lucifer from his imprisonment terrified him. It was a terrible legacy.
Sam understood now what he had done, what he had risked and what he had almost lost. He felt the pain of withdrawal already creeping into him, his hands shaking, his stomach cramping from depravation. He didn't want to reveal it to Dean, for fear of being looked at with disgust and revulsion, reminding Dean of what his addiction had turned him into. An addict was the least of it. He didn't know what the worst of it might turn him into. Could he ever really be "clean" again? Or had drinking Ruby's blood as well as others have permanently changed him into something that could only be discovered over time? And could that something be the very kind of monster that he had feared he would become and had begged Dean to kill? It scared him how much he had wanted to leave everyone, to abandon those who had done everything for him, those he should have trusted over Ruby, to get some demon blood. Only remembering Lucifer rising from the cracks on the floor of the convent kept him from leaving. He had been responsible. He couldn't, he wouldn't let himself off the hook for that. He only hoped that it would be enough to keep him "sober". He didn't know whether being sober from demon blood was even possible. He had only gotten so far before he had been set free from Bobby's panic room. He knew withdrawal was the only option, but he didn't relish going through it all again and what it might turn him into if he got through it.
Sam took in a breath and allowed himself to think about something else. He found himself drifting to the past, which seemed centuries ago now, to when they had been kids and how Dean had borne the weight of his family's shortcomings and failures. Dean would be the first to say that he had his share of failings and Sam would be honest enough to agree as well as admit his own, but more often than not, it had been Dean who had always stepped up when no one else would.
He sat in a nearby chair and looked at Dean's tired, haggard face. Dean had been through so much. Sam could never have imagined when they were kids that they would come to this.
Sam felt as if he had destroyed the trust and the bond that had come so easily between them when they had been kids by doing what he had done. He wasn't so sure he would ever get that back. He knew Dean well enough to know that he had hurt him in ways that had cut deep to the bone even if Dean wasn't saying it. The most hurtful was his disloyalty. Sam knew that Dean didn't expect him to follow orders like they had done with their dad, but he knew that all Dean had ever wanted, had ever expected was to be respected for being his brother, the older brother who had gone through enough to earn the right of jerking Sam back when he saw him veering off-course. Not to be dissed and abandoned for a demon. Sam wouldn't blame him and it worried him that he would never get Dean back in that way ever again. He had realized that all that talk about Dean being different, about being weak after returning from Hell had been wrong and had never been about Dean. Sam had wanted Dean to be weaker, less than the Dean he had idolized for most of his life because Sam wanted to be the strong one, maybe even the better one.
Dean seemed to want to get past it, not brushed under the rug, but just past it. Sam knew why. Talking about what had happened between them, what they had both said to each other, continuing to ask for forgiveness, it was just too much for Dean to take. Sam couldn't blame him for that either. How was Dean supposed to forgive Sam for leaving him, for choosing Ruby over him, for releasing Lucifer? It was too much for Sam to take let alone Dean. Could there be something so unforgivable that he and Dean would always act distant towards each other? That dying for each other was a given, but living on together after everything that had happened, maybe that was just too much to ask of Dean? Sam didn't know and he was terrified that the answer would be "yes" if he had asked. He had taken for granted that there would never be a threshold, never a line he couldn't cross that Dean wouldn't forgive or erase to have his little brother back, to have his family back, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Sam had finally reached Dean's limit, a line for which he had crossed that he should never have and that no amount of forgiveness or stepping back would make right again. The thought of losing that connection with his brother gave him pain.
The pain in his stomach had traveled into his muscles and he recognized them all too well. The twitching and trembling of withdrawal was getting worse. He thought about waking Dean, admitting yet another failure and worse yet, reminding Dean again of what Sam had become, but the little boy who had worshipped his big brother, who didn't want him to think badly of him, had stopped him and so he endured it for now. A part of him knew and worried that if he waited too long, Dean would find out soon enough. He tried to stray his concentration to his memories, the good childhood memories he seemed to be thinking about and cherishing all the more now. It hurt him that Dean only had his first 4 years to reflect on being truly happy.
Dean had had to carry the mantle of hunter early in his life, a role he took as a responsibility that he understood, accepted and took very seriously, but should never have been subjected to, yet he had made sure that Sam wouldn't have to fall into the hunting life for as long as he could prevent it.
There had been the usual kid stuff, tying shoelaces, riding bikes, and teaching him to get dressed to name a few. It was all a part of growing up. Sam couldn't remember a time when Dean hadn't been there to teach him something, to take care of him when he had gotten sick or hurt, to comfort him when he had had a nightmare. His most fondest memories were when their dad had scolded him for not getting something right in the training and then later, Dean boosting him up by telling him that he'd help him practice. He had never told him that he had been wrong or that he had been stupid.
Suddenly, he began to cry and couldn't stop. He saw a wavy image of his younger self crying.
"Who's going to be here for us now, huh, Sam? Dean's gonna leave us and it's all your fault. He did everything for you and you go and do this! I hate you for taking Dean away."
Sam watched himself as a little boy crying and pain rose up inside of him.
"I'm sorry. I know. I ruined everything. I'm so sorry!" Sam cried back at himself.
Dean startled awake and saw Sam sitting in the chair, sweating, shaking and crying. He rushed to his side.
"Sam? Sam? Can you hear me?"
Sam just kept crying as if he wasn't seeing Dean.
"Damn it." Dean swore under his breath and called out to Bobby.
Bobby rushed down the stairs as soon as he had heard his name, sleep eluding him as well.
"He's going through withdrawal. Help me get him into the panic room."
Bobby obliged. They helped Sam into the room and onto the bed, still left as Sam had left it when he had been allowed to escape. Something that both Bobby and Dean still hadn't had an explanation for. They had just found the door ajar and Sam gone.
After they had laid Sam down, Bobby then headed towards the door, noticing that Dean wasn't following.
"Dean, come on, he have to seal Sam up before the more violent episodes hit like a ton of bricks."
Dean looked into Sam's sad and terrified eyes and couldn't leave him.
"I'm staying."
"Dean, now's not the time to lose your senses. You remember the last time Sam went through this. He was tossed around like he was possessed."
"I know, Bobby, but I can't leave him. I can't have him thinking he's all alone in this. I made the mistake of leaving him the last time. I won't this time. Go ahead, Bobby. I have everything I need in here."
Bobby saw the despair and caring in Dean's eyes as he watched Sam weep uncontrollably. Bobby liked to think he knew those boys inside and out, but then Dean would surprise him with gestures like what he was doing now and he wondered how much more he could learn from him. Bobby was no fool. He knew Dean was hurting, he knew that despite what Dean was saying for Sam's benefit and for his, he knew that Sam had ripped Dean a hole in his heart that he didn't think anything could help heal. Yet, here Dean was, responding to a deep bond that Bobby knew could never truly be broken. Dean would put aside his hurt to help Sam get through the pain of withdrawal. What happened after that would have to come with time.
Bobby left and sealed the door of the panic room shut behind him, a quick nod to Dean through the porthole. Dean just nodded back, understanding that Bobby would be there for him if he needed him. He turned back to Sam who was still crying and trembling with fear and pain.
"Sam, Sam, I'm here, you're okay," Dean tried to soothe as he took Sam's face into both of his hands to stare eye-to-eye with him.
"Dean?" Sam said, his voice just a whimper.
"Yeh, yeh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna get you through this."
Sam began to cry again and turned away.
"No, you have to leave, Dean. What I do remember from last time, it was bad, I don't want to hurt you, not anymore than I already have."
Dean blinked in surprise at Sam's admission. He had to admit that he was still feeling the sting of Sam choosing Ruby over him and he wasn't dealing it as well as he thought he would, but to hear Sam admit it, despite the fact that he knew Sam was feeling bad about everything, made Dean feel guilty for not easily forgiving him. Sam was in real pain both physical and mental.
"It's okay, S-"
"It's NOT OKAY AND YOU KNOW IT!" Sam yelled, the withdrawal sinking deeper into his body and his psyche. "You hate me! Just SAY IT! SAY IT and get it over with! Then LEAVE like I LEFT YOU! You know it's what you want to do!"
Dean was taken aback at how the withdrawal was playing out this time. He knew Sam was speaking from his heart, but the pain was sharper, stronger, so much so that he felt it himself.
"I'm not going anywhere. We're seeing this through together."
"Yeh? And then what, huh?" Sam asked, hoping for an answer that wouldn't be a lie just to comfort him, but all he got was silence instead. "Can't answer that, can you?
Dean had to admit that he couldn't. He didn't know what would become of their relationship. There was a lot of healing to do, but Dean knew one thing for sure and that was that he could never abandon his brother no matter how much he was hurting. Like Bobby had said, Sam was his family, his only family and no matter what, he was his brother and he would look after him, not out of obligation, but out of a love that went deeper than familial responsibility. He would still die for Sam in a second. It was just that simple. It was the other stuff he wasn't sure about.
"Take it easy, Sammy. Just relax."
Sam's expression changed and Dean could swear that he had seen the Sammy who was his scared little brother.
"What? What is, Sammy?"
"I'm scared, Dean. I don't want you to be mad at me anymore, but I know I can't make up for what I did…I was bad. I screwed up bad. Everything's all my fault. Dean, please don't hate me."
Dean had a flashback of a time when Sam, still way too young to take on hunting, had frozen before shooting a spirit and Dean had to take the hit from it. Sam had gone almost catatonic with guilt then. It had taken Dean days to break him out of it. He was worried this would be one hundred times worse than that for Sam to get over.
"I don't hate you, Sammy. I could never hate you."
"You should hate me. I should never have been born."
Dean recoiled at the thought of Sam not being in his life. For all they had gone through, Dean would never wish for that. Sam had saved him from so much, he couldn't conceive of a life without his little brother.
"Stop that, Sam, that isn't true."
"Yes, it is. If it weren't for me, Mom wouldn't be dead, Dad wouldn't have sacrificed himself to save you just so he could lay that guilt on you about me being a monster, you could've been anything you wanted –"
"Okay, I mean it, Sam, that's not true, NONE OF IT! I'm who I am because I had you in my life. Don't you EVER forget that. If I'm any good at all it's because you were there to keep me straight and sane. NEVER doubt that."
Sam looked into Dean's eyes and saw the sincerity.
"Maybe before, Dean, but not anymore, not after what I've done. Some lines shouldn't be crossed and I crossed a big one. I'm sorry."
"I know you are, Sammy."
"But you can't forgive me, right?"
Dean was quiet.
"It's okay. If you had said that you had, I wouldn't have believed you anyway. I can't forgive myself."
Sam then pushed Dean away and ran to one of the walls of the panic room. He screamed and his body wrenched and twisted as if he were in pain. Dean ran over.
"No, no, stop! Not again!!!" Sam yelled as his hallucination of Alistair returned, razor in hand.
"Sam, what is it? Tell me what you're seeing so I can help you!" Dean insisted gently.
"Alistair," Sam uttered sadly.
Dean stiffened at the name. It would always haunt him, the things that Alistair had done to him, but what was worse was what he had done to those others. He would never forgive himself for breaking.
"Sam, Alistair isn't here, he's not hurting you, he can't hurt you," Dean tried to soothe.
Sam screamed in agony, twisting away from Dean. He saw Alistair's illusion sneering at him with rotting teeth and peeling skin, looking as if he had risen from the dead.
"Thought you got rid of me, didn't you, you arrogant demon-wanna-be?"
"No, go away! I killed you!"
"It's not real, Sammy! He's not real!" Dean tried to coax.
"Oh, you killed me, all right and you liked it, didn't you? It gave you a power you never had before and you liked that power, didn't you? I felt your hate. Maybe I was training the wrong brother, huh?" Alistair taunted.
"SHUT UP!" Sam yelled as he imagined Alistair taking the blade and plunging it into his stomach, thrusting it upwards.
Sam screamed with agony. Dean was distraught. He had never felt so helpless to do something for Sam. Sam was in pain, pain that was inside his head. Dean knew full well how the worst pain can come from self-inflicted torture from guilt, regret, loss. He had done it enough to himself. It hurt even more to know that Sam was imagining Alistair torturing him.
"Sam! Sam! Look at me! Look at me!" Dean demanded pleadingly, taking Sam's face into his hands so once again, Sam was eye-to-eye with him.
"Alistair is not here. It's just you and me. He is not hurting you," Dean said as inspiration hit. "I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, Sammy. You believe me, right?"
Dean hoped that by appealing to the times when Sam would be reassured by something as simple as a promise from him that would snap Sam out of it. Dean wasn't sure that it would work or that Sam even believed that anymore.
Sam blinked his eyes as if refocusing them and Alistair was gone. It was just Dean in his line of sight. He nodded and he then collapsed.
Dean guided Sam by the shoulders to the bed in the middle of the room and slowly placed him down on it. Sam had lost consciousness. Dean put a blanket over him then pulled up a chair. He watched Sam sleep fitfully and tried to deal with what Sam had said and his own conflicting emotions. He was amazed at how simple, easy, and uncomplicated it was to fall back into just being big brother Dean taking care of little brother Sam. When Sam is in pain, Dean reacts instinctively. He had to admit that it was a comfort to know that because he really wasn't sure if he would feel that way again. It scared him to think that way, but Sam's betrayal hurt in ways that Dean had never expected. He was having trouble forgiving him as easily as he's done in the past. He had been worried that his feelings for Sam had changed. He was glad they hadn't, at least not where it counted. Still, he needed more from Sam. He needed to feel he could trust him again and he wasn't there yet.
Sam stirred then turned towards a wall, again seeing a hallucination, this time a young teen Dean.
"Dean?"
Dean looked at where Sam was looking, but didn't see anything.
"Sam, I'm right here."
But Sam didn't turn around.
The teen Dean smiled.
"It's okay, Sammy, we'll work on that and you'll get better. I'll help you practice."
"I'll never get better, Dean. I'll never be good enough for Dad."
Dean now understood. Sam was reliving a memory.
"I'm no good at this stuff," Sam said.
"Yeh, you are. You just need to practice that's all."
"Dean, how come you never get mad at me?"
Dean listened and he swallowed. He remembered Sam's memory.
"What's there to be mad at," the real Dean said, echoing the Dean in Sam's memories.
Sam turned towards the real Dean, his eyes red with tears.
"I'm a screw up. I always have been. I'm holding you back."
"No, you're not, Sam."
"I'm going to Hell for what I've done, Dean. I know that," Sam said softly, almost too softly, sounding resigned to his eventual fate.
Dean flinched at the idea. Though he wasn't sure about Sam's future, Dean knew that Sam couldn't continue believing that he was hell bound.
"No, you're not, Sammy."
"You don't know that. You didn't deserve to go to Hell, but you did because of me."
"Yeh, and I started this whole mess because I wasn't strong enough –"
"Dean, you know and I know who really started things. I can't blame Ruby. I can't blame Lillith. It's all me. If you want to take the blame for starting it, go ahead, but in the end, I let Lucifer out, you can't deny that."
Dean looked into his brother'ls empty, lost eyes and all he felt was empathy and a need to protect Sam.
Suddenly Sam clenched his eyes closed in pain. Dean saw it and tried to reach out to him, but he, too, was assaulted with pain, a pain he was familiar with.
"Damn it!" Dean spit out. "Lucifer…"
Sam opened his eyes, the pain subsiding for him, but not for Dean.
"Hello, Sam," the voice said.
Dean heard the voice as well and realized that he was tuned into Sam's and Lucifer's conversation like some demented and evil conference call.
"Stay away from him, you bastard. Get the hell out of his head," Dean said, struggling to keep from passing out from the pain radiating from his head through his body.
"Sammy –" Lucifer continued, ignoring Dean.
"You don't get to call me that," Sam spat out.
Dean couldn't help, but smile and think , "atta boy, Sammy. Fight."
"All right, Sam. You know who I am and why I'm here, don't you?"
"No, no you're just a hallucination!" Sam said.
"I wish he were," Dean thought to himself, knowing that he wouldn't be feeling the pain if it was a hallucination.
"Tell that to your brother. He knows it's not."
Sam only then noticed that Dean was down on his knees in agony.
"DEAN!" Sam yelled and went to him, but Lucifer's voice followed.
"You can't help him, Sam. You have but one purpose to fulfill just like your brother has his own. It's just not on the same paths."
"Shut up! Leave me and my brother alone!" Sam yelled to no one in the room.
"Can't do that. I need you, Sam. You're destined to be my vessel."
TBC. Next Sequel to come. Hope you enjoyed reading and thanks for reading!