The Other Side of Hell
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Supernatural. I may wish I did, which I do, but I don't!
Summery: Dean's out of hell, but the world has changed since he's been gone. Sammy's a different, if not frighting man. And Dean's not even sure how He managed to Escape Hell.
A/N: What inspired me to write this story is an interview I read done with the creator. He said Dean was going to come back and deal with what had happened while he'd been gone; how the world had gone on. Later I saw someone on I.M.B.D mention that Sam was very anal retentive and become O.C.D in the months Dean was Dean in MM. So all that went in my head and this is what came out. I wanna tink who ever said that as they inspired me. However Idon't remeber their name. Also I have no Beta reader this time I'll try to get one Before I post the next Chapter. If you'd like to volunteer for the Job drop me a line. If you actually read this thanks! On to the Story!:
It was July eight when Dean showed up in the same town where Sam was hunting a poltergeist. Sam had no knowledge of his brother's escape from Hell. That was something the boys shared; Dean had no idea how he'd done it either.
It took two hours for Dean to walk form the Welcome sign at the edge of town to the no tell motel he knew Sammy would have chosen. He had no idea how he knew Sammy was in this town, he just did. With no impala or Sammy in sight, Dean slid down the wall next to the door to wait for his brother.
It had been one year, eleven month, fifteen days and nine hours since Sam had watched Dean die. He'd kept up with the minutes and seconds for the first year, quietly counting them down in his mind. Watching clocks seemed the only way to keep control.
When Sam pulled the impala up to his room at the 24/7 lodge, he was taken back to see a huddled mass resting next to his door. He slammed the car door, checked to make sure it was locked. He then taped the mirror five times with him key before checking again to make sure the car was locked. When he looked back towards the room he saw strangely familiar green eyes stare at him startled. Sam moved to the door, each step measured, and nudged the man before unlocking and entering the room. The man stayed seated on the concrete as Sam carefully, stepped over the salt lines laid perfectly on the floor. The door was left open an unspoken invitation for the man to enter, if he could.
Dean stood just outside trying to decide if he could go in, and if it was worth the risk to try. Should he talk to Sammy from here? Would Sammy listen? He looked up at the sound of a trigger cocking, to see a shirtless Sammy claw marks from one well formed right shoulder blade to the bottom left of his rib cage. The gun was pointing at him, Sammy stood staring at him and Dean flashed back to the night Sammy shot him with Rock Salt. He was sure what ever was in that gun was going to hurt a whole lot more, and he wasn't sure what it would do to him.
"What do you want?"
"Sammy"… He spoke without thinking and saw Sammy flinch. Seconds later his angry brother grabbed him shaking him with frightening strength screaming in his face "Don't call me that. No one calls me that!" Dean stared terrified at Sammy no moving or fighting back. This or maybe the exhaustion evident on his face seemed to take the energy out of the attack.
"Dean"
Or maybe Sammy realized it was him, Dean smiled. Then Sammy shook his head muttering not again. Sammy shut the door and fixed it to lock pushing a chair under the knob. He turned form Dean, deciding to no longer acknowledge his delusions. If he ignored him, or rather it, it would go away. It always did. Sammy moved in to the ritual of every night. He unfolds on of the motel towels on to one side of the cabinet next to the sink, making sure the bottom of the towel is exactly two fingers form the
edge. He repeats this process with another towel on the other side of the sink. He turns and walks to one of the beds. He never could get out of the habit of requesting two queens. One the bed designated for Dean, he lays the two guns he'd used that night on the foot; barrels facing ach other. The he moved to the head of the bed and sat Dean's duffle. Unzipping it he laid out deans night clothes. He unfolded them, and then refolded them laying them down precisely on top of the pillows. He re zipped the duffle and sat it on the floor.
Moving back to the sink, he lay out the knives he'd used that night in order of largest to smallest, making sure to line them up perfectly. He turned back to the bed, unfolding and refolding Dean's clothes and sat down on the edge next to the guns. Sammy began to take them apart and clean them. He was methodical and precise. When he was done he laid them down next to each other again this time the butts of each gun facing each other the width of one finger tip between them. He went back to the sink where he began to clean the knives, removing each blade form one side of the sink cleaning it and moving it the other side. Set down to perfectly mirror its place on the other towel. Once the knives where cleaned and laid perfectly side by side Sammy returned to Dean's bed. Dean was shocked to see him clean the guns again , this time when he was finished he put them in to his duffel and went o clean the knives again. The blade followed the guns in to the duffle. Sammy seemed to sag as he checked the Salt lines at the doors and windows. He turned down his bed, and then went to shower. Never one did he acknowledge Dean's presence in the room. Dean sat down next to his night clothes on what he knew to be his bed, the one closets to the door. He waited to hear the shower turn off, hoping Sammy would say something. Dean him self was at a loss for words. He was confused and freighted by his brother's actions. We Sammy stepped out of the bathroom; he was dressed in his boxers. He moved across the room and checked the salt lines at the window and the door; this time as he past he snuck a glance and Dean. Sammy walked next to his bed, before turning to address the figment of his insanity. "Dean's dead. I know Dean is DEAD!" The Sammy Climbed into bed exhausted his bones popping. He tossed, turned, tossed again, all trying to get comfortable. Finally he Got out of bed and walked back to check the salt lines once more. This time when he fell in to bed, he was overcome by sleep.