Divergence
Rated T because better to be safe than sorry.
Summary: (Next installment in Castiel's Army series) Leviathans never got out of Cas. He jumped into Purgatory to make up for his mistakes. But before he did, the monsters inside of him started a search for something big. Though Sam and Dean are out of the hunting business, they have no choice but to get back in the game...even with Hells bells ringing loud in Sam's head. (Slight crossover with NCIS—not sure how much they'll show up in this one. At least cameos.)
If you haven't read this series at all yet, you can find it on my profile page. The titles in order are: Vengeance, Mind's Eyes, Ouroboros, Hel on Earth, An Altered Melody, and a one-shot Christmas special that's really not necessary to read in order to continue, Need a Little Christmas.
Spoilers (if you can call them that because seriously, catch up if you haven't seen season 7 lol) for any episodes in season 7 and possibly 8 (not sure if I'll make that a separate story yet).
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor do I profit from it. I do not have rights to any of the following material that are transcript lines from the show (taken from Supernaturalwiki dot com—thanks, guys!) Also, I do not own NCIS obviously. Though if I was writing for either show, you can bet your arse I'd still be writing fanfiction on the side.
AN: First of all, you might want to re-read the last chapter of Altered Melody as I have only slightly changed something around (and you'll see why in this chapter here) for the sake of the time zone in which this takes place. It's nothing huge, but you might be a stickler for details and jump my case about it haha.
It's been a while since I did a sequel for this story, and honestly...it's because season 7 killed it for me and my inspiration went haywire.
However, I re-read the series last night (uhhh which would be 3/20-21—I was up until 5am reading. Yikes) and was inspired to continue. Really...I want to go back and edit all the ridiculous comma usage in those stories because holy crap...I don't even understand what happened.
At the end of the latest update (minus the Christmas special), I altered Castiel's reality a bit. He sacrifices himself by jumping into Purgatory. Sam's head is still messed up.
So after I started writing this, I realized that I really needed to rewatch at least part of season 7 (and then I ended up watching all of season 8) and I haven't EVER rewatched season 7 because I hated it the first time around, but in all honesty, it's got some great lines.
Anyway, it's several days later and I've finally got this chapter done. It's really long because I did a lot of taking of lines (in the second half) from Hello, Cruel World. I needed to use the general events and change them up a bit to better suit what's happening in this universe. My initial intentions were to start this story out during the Born-Again Identity (where Sam ends up in the psych ward after being hit by a car while trying to run from Hallucifer) but I felt like because of where I took the series on an AU spin, I need to do a lot up catching up, and that's okay. I hope you enjoy! Might be a week between updates. Bear with me :)
*~.~*
It's been six months since Castiel jumped into Purgatory.
Just weeks after that jump, right after Dean's hope of Cas being able to help Sam was lost, the medication that Ducky had tried to help Sam with had slowly become less and less effective. After a couple of months, when it had gotten bad enough that the meds weren't helping at all, Dean had decided it would be best to take Sam out of DC and bring him to Bobby's. As much as he hated leaving their new family, Sam was becoming dangerous. His nightmares had shifted into daytime hallucinations, and he had nearly stabbed McGee in the basement thinking he was some kind of monster about to attack him. Because of this, Sam was more than willing to leave when Dean brought it up.
Bobby's house had a back-up plan; a room where they could put Sam if he had a really bad day. Neither Dean nor Bobby hoped it would come to that, but it was an option. Plus Bobby was glad to get Dean back in Sioux Falls. If the boys weren't hunting, he could at least use some help directing the other hunters. Especially lately, since there seemed to be something happening across the board that Bobby couldn't quite figure out.
It was around the third week of them being at Bobby's that he had figured it out...
3 months earlier...
"Dean, I think we've found something," Bobby told the younger man as he entered the kitchen where Dean was making lunch.
"Yeah?" Dean asked without looking away from his task.
"The weird crap that's been goin' on lately," he replied. "All the reports about demonic and angelic activity across the globe." Dean made a thoughtful yet uninterested noise from where he was standing. "Damnit, kid, I know you're worried about your brother, but this could be pretty damn huge."
"It's always something, Bobby," Dean said as he continued to work. "There's always something going on. But right now my job is getting Sammy better. Or hell, getting him to eat would be a win in my book right now," he said as he picked up the plates and turned with them.
"If I eat, will you hear him out?" Sam asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Dean's face showed his surprise at Sam having come downstairs on his own. "Sam?"
"I'm okay," he replied, glancing back and forth between Dean and Bobby's awed expressions. He brushed off the awkward feeling and made his way to the table. "So what's going on, Bobby?" he asked.
Bobby looked over at Dean for a moment, and both older men seemed to get back with the program. Sam brought the plates to the table, setting one in front of Sam before he sat down across from him with his own. "Looks like," Bobby began, "While Cas was still topside, he started a search for something."
"I thought we kinda had that figured already, since it started right before he left," Dean said.
"Yeah well a friend of mine, Frank Devereaux, he contacted me a few weeks back. At first I thought he was just bein' his nutty self, findin' things that were probably a whole lotta nothin'. Told me there were some strange dig site plans goin' on; lotta different areas. No real explanation for any of 'em. Turns out this might be exactly what Cas had set up. Since they started breakin' ground, there're angels all over the radar."
"How does Frank know all this stuff?" Sam asked.
"All the man does is hole up in his trailer and track anything weird he can detect on his computers," Bobby replied.
"Weird?" Dean asked, a brow raised in curiosity. "Like monsters weird?"
"Like everything from monsters to Area 51 weird," Bobby elaborated. "Frank's seven layers of crazy, but he ends up bein' right at least half the time."
"So he thinks demons and angels are all over the place because these dig sites opened up. That's all he's got?" Dean questioned. "We have no idea what they're after. We'd be sending hunters in there blind."
"Yeah, no kidding," Bobby said as he walked over to the counter to fix himself a plate of the lunch Dean had prepared. "But I'm thinkin' Frank might be right on this one. Feels like somethin' big is about to go down, so I'm sending hunters out to each area, just to sit tight and wait in case somethin' happens. Better to have someone nearby, regardless what it ends up bein'."
"Does Frank have eyes on all the sites?" Sam asked.
"The ones here in the US, yeah,"Bobby told him. "There're some overseas he can't get much more than a satellite feed off of, though, so he's tryin' to get me to track down hunters out there."
"Can he send us the information?" Sam asked.
"Sam," Dean warned.
"I can at least look into the sites," Sam told him. "Maybe there's a connection. What harm could that do?" he looked pleadingly at his brother.
Dean thought it over for a moment. "Yeah. Okay, fine. But would you eat your damn lunch already? Pushing it around with a fork hasn't worked since you were seven."
Sam met his brother's eyes before looking down at his plate. He knew his brother had made him a nice salad. He knew that's what was on the plate. But what he saw wasn't that at all. Sam saw slimy, slithering snails trailing blood in their tracks, winding around one another, and he grimaced, swallowing against the nausea.
He knew that Dean wasn't gonna let him skip out on eating. He did that too much, and Dean was wearing the 'worry hat' with a giant neon sign these days. So Sam looked away from the plate and started stabbing at the contents, closing his eyes and repeating the mantra, 'It's not real. It's not real,' in his head over and over as he started to choke it down.
"I'll see if Frank can send whatever he's got to your computer," Bobby told Sam.
Sam conjured up whatever will he had in him and smiled in Bobby's direction. "Thanks, Bobby."
Later in the evening, Sam brought his laptop down to the kitchen and started going over the files Frank had sent to him. It ended him up fetching several books from Bobby's library so he could go over some history on the locations of the dig sites.
When he brought a few back to the kitchen with him and set them on the table, the table rocked to one side, and Sam realized that one of the legs was loose. He got down on a knee to look underneath.
"Dude, what're you doing?" Dean asked as he came in for a beer.
"Table's wobbly," Sam said, glancing up at him before looking back under the table.
"'Cause the sugar packet slipped out," Dean told him. Sam was confused for a moment, before he realized that there was indeed a packet of sugar sitting under the table where it had once been stuck under the loose leg.
"Yeah well, I'm gonna go get a screwdriver and tighten this up instead."
"Suit yourself," Dean shrugged as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. "It's just gonna come loose again. Always does."
"Not if I glue the screw in," he retorted as he stood up. "Does Bobby have wood glue?"
"How would I know?" Dean raised a brow. "It's probably with the rest of his tools if he's got it. Or...you could just put the sugar packet back like a normal person."
"Like a lazy person, you mean?" Sam smirked.
"Just because you're OCD doesn't mean the rest of us are lazy," Dean defended. "We just accept the fact that not everything is perfect."
"I...I know not everything is perfect," Sam replied, eyes twitching a bit before he continued. "I know there's stuff we can't fix. But I can fix this, so...I'm gonna try."
Dean was taken aback by the comment, too shocked to respond before Sam started heading out of the room. "Wait...Geez, man, that's not... I mean I didn't..."
"Dude, chill out," Sam said with a small, breathy laugh. "I know." And then Dean watched his brother head for the basement door.
"He knows that's not what you meant," Bobby sounded from the study, and Dean turned to see him. Dean let out a breath and headed over to the older man, taking a long drink from his beer.
"Just feels like nothing I say is ever right," he told him. "If I worry, I'm being an annoying mother-hen. If I act like I'm not worried, I say the wrong crap and end up feeling like a giant douche bag."
"Well as far as I know, there ain't no manual on how to properly handle the fragile mind of a soul that's been donkey-punched by Lucifer for a hundred years," Bobby told him. "Pretty sure you're doin' best as anyone could, Dean. You stepped outta the life to try and keep 'im safe, and you stayed out to try an' put 'im back together again. Not much more you can do than what you are already."
"Doesn't feel like I'm doing anything," Dean said, shaking his head.
"Sometimes all you can do is not give up," Bobby retorted. "And if there's anything I know, it's that—literally—come hell or high water, you ain't never givin' up on Sam."
Dean looked down at his beer for a moment, nodding in acknowledgment of Bobby's words. They were true, of course, but was that really going to be enough?
.
Sam dug through one of the several boxes on the workbench in the basement. Finding the screwdriver had been easy, but the glue was another story. If Bobby even had any it was likely rarely used, and therefore probably deep in the bottom of one of the dusty old boxes of normal-people stuff, aka not supernatural-fighting materials. He dug carefully through a second box, just a bunch of random stuff, replacement table-saw and puzzle blades, hoses and spare car parts thrown together. Sam made a mental note to organize it for Bobby later.
"Oh Sam, Sam, Sam," a horrifyingly familiar voice sounded, and Sam spun around to see Lucifer sitting on the stairs.
"Y-you're not real," Sam could only whisper through the sting of fear.
"Well there's certainly something not real, but it's not me," he countered. "I'm just waiting to see how much longer it's gonna take for you to figure that out."
"Figure what..."
"That this is all in your head," he told him. "You're still in the cage with me, Sammy. You're mine."
"No," Sam replied, shaking his head. "You're lying. I'm not there anymore. They got me out."
"Really, Sam?" Lucifer smiled smugly. "It's kind of adorable that you'd think that was possible." The muscles in Sam's face twitched with nervous anxiety as Lucifer stood. "Did you forget all of the things you had to do to let me out in the first place? You honestly think they found another special kid with an addiction to demon-whore blood to break enough seals and open the door again?"
Sam flinched, unable to debunk the devil's words. Lucifer started walking toward him, and Sam jumped back, knocking one of the boxes to the floor, its contents spilling out at his feet.
"Aww Sammy, what's the matter? Aren't you ready to wake up and be my bitch again?" he asked.
"Go away," Sam grunted, out of breath as he pressed his body back against the workbench. "You're not here. You're not real."
"You're wrong, Sam," he replied, his hand shooting out to grip around Sam's neck. "I'm here. I've always been here, and I always will be. Don't ever forget that, Sam." Then he let go, and Sam dropped to the floor. "Sam..."
"Sam!" Dean's voice sounded in the distance, followed by footsteps hurrying down the stairs. He looked up, seeing that Lucifer was gone now. Dean hurried toward him with a worried expression on his face. "Sammy, what happened?" he asked as he crouched down. "Jesus, Sam, your hand..."
Sam looked down at where Dean was looking, the scattered items from the fallen box surrounding him, and of course his hand had landed on one of the replacement saw blades and was currently bleeding all over the floor.
Dean was wrapping a handkerchief around the wound before Sam could say anything about it.
"What the hell happened, Sam?" Dean asked, but he wasn't angry. His voice was careful and quiet and it almost freaked Sam out a little, except that he realized what he must look like, and he could feel himself shaking, his heart pounding in his ribcage still.
"I...I dunno," Sam replied, not wanting to admit to Dean that he was seeing things again. "I just...the box fell and I...I don't..."
"Okay come on," Dean shook it off, knowing Sam was hiding something, but not wanting to get into it right then. "You're bleeding all over the place. Let's get you upstairs so I can patch you up, okay?" Sam wordlessly nodded, taking hold of his brother as he helped him to stand. Dean's presence was a comfort to Sam, the grip of his hand on Sam's arm making his fear that Lucifer was telling the truth slowly dissipate.
Dean was no fool. He could feel Sam shaking. He could feel his pulse hard and fast where he held the cloth on Sam's wound. Undoubtedly, Sam had had another daymare or...hallucination or whatever they wanted to call this. It killed him a little inside to know it, knowing some of what had happened to his brother in the pit; witnessing some of it himself. It was bad enough Sam had suffered what he had, but to be reliving it a little each day was like a sucker-punch to the face over and over again.
After sewing up the wound and getting a decent amount of whiskey into Sam, Dean led a wobbling, drunken little brother back upstairs to bed, covering him up when he passed out right as his head hit the pillow. For whatever reason, he suddenly thought of Tony and was reminded of how he'd lost touch with them before everything—namely Sam—went to Hell. He felt the urge to call him, and glancing down at his watch he surmised that it wasn't too late in the night to do so.
He glanced back at Sam for a moment before heading back downstairs and out onto the porch. He plopped down on the steps and pulled out his phone. Dean scrolled through his contacts to find Mustang66. He smiled at the memory and hit the dial button. After a few rings, the other line picked up.
"Jesus please don't tell me someone's dead," Tony's voice sounded on the other line.
"What, I can't call just to say hey?" Dean replied, though the sinking feeling in his gut, the memory of the phone call he'd made from the road that couple of years ago, nauseated him.
"Oh good," Tony sighed, and Dean could hear the relief in his voice. "Hang on a minute. I'm supposed to be filling out some paperwork, but..." Dean heard him move on the other line and start talking to someone else. "Boss, it's Dean. Mind if I take this?"
"Something happen?" Dean heard Gibbs say, and he couldn't help the stinging in his eyes at hearing their voices, the lump growing in his throat and reminding him how much he missed them all.
"Not sure," Tony replied. "All I know is no one died."
There was a momentary silence, and Dean could picture Gibbs' face and whatever he might be conveying to his agent without words. "Go on," he heard Gibbs reply finally.
"Thanks, boss," Tony replied, and he heard him move again, to where he wasn't sure, but when he spoke again, there was an echo to his voice, and he pictured him in the stairwell. "So what's goin' on?"
"Nothin' you need to hide to talk about," Dean replied.
"Yeah well, I don't take personal calls in the bullpen if I can help it. Eavesdropping ninjas and elf-lords."
Dean let out a small laugh. "Sorry. Guess I didn't think you'd be at work this late. Shoulda known better, though."
"My non-working hours are a rarity. Not a big deal. At least we weren't out in the field." There was another long pause. "Dean...what's wrong, man?"
"Why's something gotta be wrong?" Dean defended. "Just trying to keep in touch, ya know?"
"I'm a detective, remember? I can hear it in your voice, man. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you called and I'm happy to hear from you, but if you need to talk about something other than happy thoughts, I'm happy to listen." Another long pause, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's Sam, isn't it," Tony surmised. "No change?"
"Uh," Dean's voice shook a little, unintentionally. "Well no. Not...not really, I guess," he said. "I mean, he hasn't tried to stab anybody or anything, but there's no one but me and Bobby here, so... But yeah, I guess I thought he might be getting a little better. Wasn't any hallucinations until tonight. Not that I know about anyway..."
"I take it it was bad?" Tony surmised, probably clearly from the sound of Dean's tone.
"He didn't tell me what he saw," Dean replied. "And he tried to tell me he just fell; that he didn't know what happened. But when I found him he was on the floor, saw blade cut open his hand and he was bleeding everywhere. Looked as freaked as I've ever seen him."
"So he lied to you. I'm guessing it's because he doesn't want you to be worried about him."
"Think I don't know that?" Dean replied.
"Yeah, no. I know you do," Tony told him. "I mean...it's probably more like he doesn't want you to worry more than you already are. It's not like you can make any of it go away."
"And honestly, that's what kills me more than any of it," Dean confessed. "I mean...we finally get him outta the cage and...part of him is like he's still there, ya know? Like he's gotta suffer the rest of his life. Sam doesn't deserve this. Nobody does. And with Cas gone...I'm out of options. I don't know what to do, man."
Tony was silent on the other line for a while. "Nothing you can do that you aren't already," he finally said.
"You sound like Bobby."
"Well, idjit, I guess if there's two of us saying it, it must be true."
"You're an ass," Dean said with a small laugh.
"So I've been told," he said, and Dean could hear the smile in the words.
"Must be true then," Dean said with a smirk.
"I own it. Works for me," he replied. There was another moment of silence. "Hey, you want me to come out there? I mean...I'm sure I could convince Gibbs to let me have a couple days. Not like I ask much."
"Nah, man, it's...it's okay. Really, I mean...not that I wouldn't love to see you or anything, I just...it might not be such a good idea."
"Will it ever be, though? I mean, are you just gonna stay there forever, hide from everyone and not let us ever see either of you again?"
"I'm not hiding, Tony," Dean defended. "I'm trying to keep you safe."
"Yeah I know that, man. I just...I feel like it wouldn't be such a big deal to come visit. It's not like I can't defend myself, and most of the time he's fine-"
"It only takes one minute," Dean reminded him. "Seriously, man, my brother is not someone you wanna be in the path of when he's convinced you're the enemy. Tim knows that first hand. He coulda been killed."
"But he wasn't. Sam got himself under control."
"Luck. That's what that was. And it's why we hauled ass outta there. You know that."
"I do. I get it, trust me. I know you're already on edge as it is. But listen, man, if you need me to come—I mean for anything, you just tell me. Just tell me, okay? I mean any time. Stop worrying about what happens to me. I'm a grown man. I can handle myself. What the hell good am I to you if I can't be there when you need me?"
"You're plenty good to me," Dean told him. "I can call you up whenever and you actually listen to whatever bullshit I gotta say."
Tony laughed for a moment. "It's never bullshit, though. In fact, the day you call and it's just random bullshit, is the day I'll know that something crazy good happened."
"Shit, I'm sorry... Man, what I wouldn't give to have one of those days. Instead, I'm like a crappy Evanescence song."
"Okay, first off, you don't sound drunk to me right now. Secondly, do not mock Evanescence."
"The hell, man, you and Sam braidin' each others hair when I'm not lookin'?"
"Anything that's not classic rock is girly to you, I swear."
"No avoiding the truth," Dean shrugged, though he was smiling a little now.
*~.~*
Two weeks later, Dean had no choice but to back Bobby up on a case right there in town. Possible demonic activity at a nearby hospital, of all places. Dean wouldn't let Bobby go on his own, even if he was reluctant to leave Sam by himself.
It's the first Sam had been alone in a long time. The first he'd been by himself since he woke up after the wall fell. So when Lucifer started talking to him again, the anxiety was all the worse.
He just sat there across from him at the table in Bobby's kitchen, reading a magazine. Sam tried to concentrate on cleaning his guns, tried to ignore the devil the best he could.
"You know, I really think Price William has found the right girl. What do you think?" Lucifer asked.
Sam continued to ignore him, continued cleaning the gun in front of him. Then his phone rang and he was more than happy to answer. "Dean," he greeted.
"Hey," Dean replied on the other line. "So we're pretty sure there's something out here. Staking out the place to figure out what's what. You doin' okay?"
"Yeah...yeah, I'm okay."
"Okay. Good. Well...hang in there, alright?"
Sam ended the call and glanced at Lucifer.
"Just okay?" Lucifer asked. "I'm having a great day!" He stood and made his way to the fireplace, grabbing a poker and eying it before swinging it life a golf club.
"Okay," Sam said, "If this is some kinda dream and you've got power over it, why don't you just end it?"
"End it? This? You not knowing what's real, the paint slowly peeling off your walls, come on, man, this is the sweet spot! Why would I end it? Not like we got HBO in the Pit. All I got is you, floating over the coals with half a hope that you're gonna figure it all out. There's only one way to figure it out, Sam. It's up to you. It ends when you can't take it anymore." Sam shook his head in denial. Lucifer looked down at the guns on the table. "I think that's maybe why we're cleaning our guns," he told him.
"Shut up," Sam told him, angry now. "I said shut up!"
Lucifer just smiled and took a seat back at the table.
Then a car pulled up outside and Sam headed over to the window to see who it was. The Impala was parked out front and Dean was heading inside.
"Dean," Sam said as his brother walked through the door. "I thought you were staking out the hospital?"
"Yeah, Bobby's got that for now," he replied. "But I've gotta check out a second location and I need back up. So...that means you."
"Uh...are you sure about that?" Sam asked with raised brows.
"I know, you're bonkers," Dean said, and it felt kind of like a punch in the gut even thought Sam knew it was true. "But luckily I just need you to keep the engine running and wait by the back door. Just don't...uh. Don't let Satan change my presets. Let's go."
Sam swallowed. He wasn't sure what good he could do for his brother, but he sure as hell would try. So he grabbed his jacket and his gun and followed out after Dean. At least Lucifer seemed to be gone for the moment; that much he was glad for.
As he drove, Dean started talking again. "How you doing, Sam?" he asked. "In the head region. Devil still riding shotgun?"
"Not right now, but...yeah," he replied. And damned if he didn't feel sick to his stomach at the blunt conversation.
"Maybe we oughta get you...I dunno..."
"What? Some professional help?" Sam offered with a raised brow. "What are they gonna do but stuff me full of pills? We'll find some other option."
"Okay yeah," Dean shrugged. "But what are your other options? You remember when Martin took his nosedive and started shooting at nothing? I mean...his sweater unraveled fast."
"I'm not Martin," Sam retorted. It hurt to think Dean had come to this point of giving up.
"No, but you are crazy," he said. Another punch to the gut. "That don't wash off. You get that, right? You are never going to be okay, Sam." Sam looked at him for a moment, then. The words felt like a hand reaching into his chest and pulling out what remained of his heart. It took every ounce of strength he had not to give in to the stinging in his eyes.
*~.~*
Back at Bobby's, Dean entered to check in on Sam. The stakeout had been slow-moving, and Bobby assured him that he'd call if something happened so he could shoot right back over.
"Sam?" he called out when he didn't see him in the kitchen. There was no reply. "Sammy?" he called out again as he walked out into the study, then picked up his pace and headed upstairs. "Sam?" But he wasn't there either. "Oh crap..." Sam had taken off. Who knows what for. Good thing for Dean he'd turned on the GPS on Sam's phone after the last incident...
*~.~*
As the Impala pulled up in front of the building, not-Dean looked out the window toward it. "Oh damnit...there's five of 'em. All right. Come on," he told Sam.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked, knowing that this could end badly.
"Yeah, and listen...when we get in there, you gotta keep it together," he told him as they walked toward the building.
"Yeah, yeah...I-I will," Sam told him, doing his best to get himself to focus. "I-"
"'cause if you're seein' Lucifer, then you can be seein' all kinds of crap, okay? You just don't know."
"How is this helping?" Sam asked, more frustrated than sad now.
"I'm just saying, Sam. You're outta control."
"I'm dealing with it the best I can," Sam defended.
"Dealing?" not-Dean laughed. "Sorry, that's just funny. I mean, how can you deal? You think this is an office building, right?" he asked, then held the door open for Sam to enter. Sam didn't think about it for the moment, but entered the building before not-Dean. "Sorry," not-Dean said. "Wrong."
It wasn't an office building at all. It was more like an empty warehouse. "Where the hell are we?" Sam asked as he looked around.
"Oh! You think I'm Dean! Right," he replied with a smile, and Sam watched in horror as not-Dean morphed into Lucifer. "You poor, clueless sonofabitch."
"Stay the hell away from me," Sam said, then turned and starting to walk away.
"Your world is whatever I want it to be, understand?" Lucifer said.
Sam turned and fired his gun in Lucifer's direction. "Leave me alone!" But Lucifer wasn't there anymore.
"Now we're getting there," Lucifer said, suddenly behind Sam. Sam spun around and backed away. "Pinnochio's seeing his strings."
"Shut up," Sam replied shakily.
"It's the big crescendo."
"I said shut up!" Sam yelled again, firing his gun once more, but Lucifer appeared behind him again.
"Want to point that gun at someone useful?" he asked. "Try your face." The devil walked closer to him. "Want to know the truth? Want to skip to the last page of the book? You know where to aim," he told him, sticking a finger under Sam's jaw and mocking a gunshot sound.
*~.~*
When Dean entered the warehouse, he'd heard Sam shouting inside. Part of him was surprised to find him standing there alone. "Sam? Sam!" he shouted when he saw the gun in his hand. "Sam, what're you doing?" he asked. And Sam flinched and aimed his gun on Dean. "Whoa whoa!" Dean put his hands up in a surrendering gesture.
"I was with you, Dean!" Sam yelled, his voice cracking with the level of overwhelming confusion.
"Okay," Dean replied, confused as well now. "Well here I am..."
"No...no I don't...I..." Sam looked back at Lucifer, then to Dean again. "I can't know that for sure, you understand me?"
"Okay," Dean replied, trying to summon up the right thing to say. "Now, we're gonna have to start small."
"I don't remember driving here," Sam said.
"Well that's because I drove, you thought," Lucifer told him, then looked to Dean. "Sam is very suggestible."
Sam turned and shot at Lucifer.
"Whoa! Whoa, Sam!" Dean yelled. "This discussion does not require a weapons discharge!" Sam realized that he was breathing hard now, freaking out and probably scaring the hell out of Dean, if it really was Dean. He couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of anything. But he lowered the gun anyway. "Look at me," Dean said. "Come on." Sam looked at him. "You don't know what's real? Look, man, I've been to Hell, okay, I know a thing or two about torture. Enough to know that it feels different...than the pain of this...this regular, stupid, crappy this," he told him.
"No," Sam shook his head. "No. How can you know that for sure?" he asked.
"Let me see your hand," he replied. Sam started to lift one. "No, no. The gimp hand," Dean told him. "Let me see it."
"Smell you, Florence Nightingale," Lucifer said beside him, and Sam looked over at him.
But Dean grabbed Sam's bandaged hand and shouts, "Hey!" to get his attention. Sam looked back to Dean. "This is real," he told him. "Not a year ago. Not in Hell. Now. I sewed this up, remember? Look!" Dean squeezed a thumb into the bandaged wound, using his other hand to grab for the barrel of the gun in Sam's other hand.
Lucifer appeared beside Dean then, the image of him flickering. "We've done a lot more with pain," he said.
Sam sucked in a breath, wincing. Dean pulled the gun away from him before he spoke again.
"This is different, right?" Dean asked him. "Than the crap that's tearing at your walnut? I'm different. Right?"
Sam pulled his hand away. "Yeah...I think so," he replied.
"You sure about that, bunk buddy?" Lucifer asked beside Dean, and Dean watched as Sam looked off beside him.
"Sam?" Dean tried to get his attention back. "Sam." He watched Sam as he pressed his own thumb into the wound, so hard it caused blood to begin pooling out of the bandage. The image of Lucifer began to flicker again.
"Doesn't mean anything," Lucifer said.
"Hey," Dean pulled Sam's attention again. "Hey, I'm you're flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I'm the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy."
"Sammy, Sammy," Lucifer taunted. Sam pushed harder into the wound. "Sammy, I'm the only one who can-" he flickered then, and then disappeared.
"Believe in that," Dean continued. "Believe in me, okay? You gotta believe me. You gotta make it stone number one and build on it. You understand?"
Sam looked at him in a mixture of desperation and relief, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," he replied.
Then Dean's phone rang. For a few long seconds, he ignored it.
"Dean...it could be Bobby," Sam told him, and Dean snapped out of the daze to answer it.
"Bobby?" Dean said into the phone.
"So I met up with Jody Mills," Bobby told him. Dean could tell he was driving at the moment. "Turns out she happened to be a patient at Sioux Falls General Hospital."
"What? She okay?" Dean asked, brows furrowing. Then he looked to Sam. "Jody's in the hospital," he told him.
"What?"
"She had an appendectomy," Bobby explained. "She's okay, but she called me when she noticed her doctor was a black-eyed sonofabitch. So I've got her, and I bagged Dr. Gaines. He's trussed up in my trunk and I'm headin' back to my place as we speak. Figured we could do a little hardcore interrogating; figure out what the hell they're all up to."
"Friggin' weird that they're posing as hospital staff. So yeah, we'll meet you back at the house," Dean told him, then ended the call.
"What's going on?" Sam asked as they started out of the warehouse.
"Jody's okay. They bagged a demon, and Bobby's meeting us back at the house." The two got into the Impala, Sam's gaze lingering on the van that he'd apparently driven out there unknowingly. This whole thing made him feel like he should lock himself away somewhere. The things he could've done tonight... "Look," Dean said as he started up the car, "When we get back to Bobby's-"
"I know," Sam turned to him. "It's okay, Dean. I'm good. No white rabbits," he said with a small laugh. "I'm not seeing anything."
"Okay," Dean replied, slightly unconvinced. "Baby steps." He gave him a small smile, and Sam gratefully returned it.
The drive back was longer than the drive out. Maybe that's because Dean had floored it all the way there when Sam had gone MIA. By the time Dean pulled onto the last road that'd lead to Bobby's, he could see the smoke.
"Oh no," Dean said, almost in a whisper...
*~.~*
Dean worked his way back out of the remains of the scorched house. Sam met him halfway.
"Any sign of him?" Sam asked worriedly.
Dean held up a charred book before tossing it behind him. "That place was torched. Went up like freakin' flash paper. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."
"You think Bobby was back there?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," Dean shook his head, then signaled for Sam to search the lot. He listened to Sam calling out for Bobby until it grew distant. Then he dialed Bobby's number.
"This is Bobby Singer's direct hotline. You should not have this number," the voice came over the line, then a beep.
"You cannot be in that crater back there," Dean said into his phone. "I can't... If you're gone, I swear...I am gonna strap my Beautiful Mind brother into the car and I'm gonna drive us off the pier. You asked me how I was doing? Well, not good!" his voice cracked. "Now you said you'd be here. Where are you?" He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket, and joined in the search for Bobby again.
And then Sam is yelling for Dean to watch out.
Dean turned a second too late, and he saw the demon before he flicked a hand and sent Dean flying across the yard. He fell wrong into the side of an old, beat up Lincoln, and he felt the bone in his arm snap before the pain signal reached his brain. He shouted out when it hit, though.
"Dean!" Sam cries out worriedly, and Dean turned his head in time to see the demon heading toward his brother with a big metal pipe. Sam is defenseless; Dean took his gun.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, watching as Sam tried desperately to find something to fight with. Dean pushed up off of the ground ignoring the horrid pain in his arm as he tore off toward his brother. He pulled Ruby's knife from his jacket with his good arm. He watched the demon swing the pipe and hit Sam square in the head. Sam dropped like dead weight, and Dean plunged the knife into the demon's back and didn't even wait for it to finish flashing out before he dropped next to his brother.
"Sammy?" he said as he checked for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it strong. But Sam was unconscious and they needed to get outta there because obviously the fire had been started by demons, and there were likely more on the way. "C'mon, man, you gotta wake up," he told him, grabbing onto the younger man's shirt to shake him. "I can't drive like this, and we need to get the hell outta here." But there was no response. "Sam?" There were headlights turning into the lot. "Sammy! Sammy, come on!" he panicked. "Shit shit shit..." he pushed up off of the ground with a pained grunt, readying himself with the knife, putting himself between Sam and the oncoming threat.
"Dean!" Bobby's voice sounded, and Dean was momentarily confused until the older man got out of the parked vehicle, headlights still pointed on the boys. "Come on, kid! Could be more on the way," he said as he walked the short distance to them.
"Bobby?" Dean looked at him for a long, confused moment. "Christo."
"I ain't no demon, ya idjit," he replied. "Now help me get your brother into the car."
"I...I can't," Dean replied. "Arm's broken. Can't do a damn thing right now."
"Balls... Then get in the back and I'll get Sam; you can at least lead him in."
Dean crawled into the back seat, the pain in his arm starting to make him nauseated, but the urgent need to get Sam out of harm's way overpowering it. Bobby struggled but succeeded in picking up Sam and leading him head-first into the other side of the car. Dean reach out with his good arm, gripping the shoulder of Sam's jacket and leading him to lay half on Dean's lap. The motion jostled his bad arm, and bile rose in his throat.
"Bobby, I think we need a damn hospital," Dean said, swallowing against the pain, a cold sweat breaking out everywhere the air could touch exposes skin.
"Yeah well it ain't gonna be General," Bobby replied as he shut the door and got back into the driver's seat. "Place is swarmin' for whatever reason. But I'll get us somewhere. You concentrate on tryin' to wake that Sasquatch brother of yours up, 'cause ain't no way I can lift his ass again tonight."
Dean looked down at his still-unconscious brother's face with worry. He could feel the blood soaking through the leg of his jeans where Sam's head laid. "Sam..."
It wasn't for another ten minutes that Sam began to stir. Dean was surprised by it, but put a hand on his brother's chest and tried to get him to look at him. "Hey, Sammy. Sam, look at me. Hey, you stay with me, you hear?"
Sam opened his eyes and looked across the seat. Lucifer...
"Hey, so maybe I'm not real," Lucifer told him. "Nobody's perfect," he smirked. "But I'm not going anywhere, Sam." He smiled evilly.
Dean wasn't sure what Sam was looking at, but none of that mattered when Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he began seizing. "Sam? Sammy!" Dean was officially freaking out now. "Bobby, get us somewhere fast!" he shouted. "Jesus... Sam!"
TBC...