SOMEWHERE DOWN THE ROAD

By: Karen B.

Summary: Season Ten spoiler warning! Tag to Black. 10-1. Darkness ensues. Blackness all around.

Disclaimer: Not the owner

I wait tables at a roadhouse. I meet the bad guys. I meet the good guys. And maybe for a second there, I thought you were a good guy playing bad, I don't know. It doesn't matter.

~ Ann Marie

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Everything was silent as I stared out the windshield, watching the yellow line blur into a shadow. A steady stream of moonlight filtered in, but all I ever saw was blackness - day or night - always blackness. What was happening to me?

I was so torn, couldn't understand a thing, an emotional rollercoaster that had flown off the tracks.

One minute I was screwing some chick, the next I was defending her honor.

One minute I was drunk-singing and not giving a crap about how bad the audience sucked. The next I was remembering my last Christmas with mom, and finding myself rocking in a corner with tears streaming down my face.

Hanging out with Crowley was the best of times and the worst of times.

The three seconds I'd waited to hear proof that my brother wasn't dead had squeezed the breath right out of my lungs.

The next moment when I heard the crunch of bone followed by Sam's painful outburst, every ounce of emotion I had for the kid swirled back into the chaotic blackness.

I didn't know what to do and I didn't care, so I just kept on driving, the empty silence broken only by the rumble of the car's engine.

What the fuck?

I gripped the wheel and edged forward, looking in the rearview mirror - always looking in the mirror. Always seeing someone I know longer knew and could never understand - a stranger with black as evil eyes.

My lips began to quiver and I glanced away looking across at the empty seat beside me.

Nothing was ever the same when Sam wasn't riding shotgun. My stomach suddenly clenched tight and the flames of anger and loss rose. I wanted to do a U-turn.
Get to Sam. Kill that son of a bitch. But I didn't know where he was. I'd hung up the phone on a blocked number.

Ironically the phone on the seat rang again.

My quivering lip stilled, and anything that ever meant anything was once again gobbled up, washed away and swept clean by the black.

This was no rollercoaster I was stuck on. This was a revolving door.

I squared my shoulders and picked up the phone. "Stop calling me," I said smoothly.

"I just thought you might like to hear your brother breaking like a paper straw," the voice on the other end said equally as smoothly.

Sam's guttural scream pierced my ear, and I didn't even flinch.

"You hear that?"

"I heard it," I said matter-of-fact. "And?"

"And nothing."

The phone went dead.

I kept the cell in my hand as I drove on. A rippling chill went up my spin, but I didn't give a damn. Right or wrong what did any of it matter? I was a demon junkie lying in the filthy gutter listening to the haunting sound of my own pet Hellhound howling in my ear and tainting my blood.

I had no respect for myself or anyone.

Family, love, and loyalty were just a bunch of dirty words swimming in a pail of bloody water.

What mattered was the blade, and the craving for the kill. The feeling was powerful and stuck to my ribs like an awesome barbeque sauce. It was like a paper cut on my soul and every day it just grew and grew –the burning now acres wide. I could almost taste what I'd become. Yet, I wrestled with truly embracing it. There was still a small part of me curled into a corner that wouldn't totally give in to the blades demon demands.

My phone chimed announcing that I'd gotten a text.

I slammed on the breaks and came to a dead stop in the middle of the road, and something so incredibly simple came to me. One very important thing dad always told me I needed to remember when all else failed. Don't think so hard. Let your instincts guide you. When the shit gets down and dirty, you've got to get lower and dirtier. Don't talk it, walk it.

Hadn't that been what I was doing all along on this stint with Crowley? So why stop now.

I gasped for breath titling my head back and clenched the phone tightly in my hand.

I was walking through a haze of black smoke. I wanted it to take completely over. Everything would be so much easier then. But something kept stopping me. Someone kept knocking at the door I kept pushing on and trying to bolt shut.

The phone chimed in again, and I knew...that someone was Sam.

I was agitated.

Caged.

Hungry.

Unable to control the power and toxicity of the true demon I was trying to become.

I sat in silence my fuse burning at both ends. I wanted to kill, kill, kill.

Period.

Didn't matter who.

My little brother may have gotten himself in this jam, but nobody force-fed me an ultimatum, this would be an easy kill. I lifted the phone and read the text and smiled when I saw the address.

"May as well make this fun."

I stepped on the gas and sped forward, then hit the break hard turning the wheel sharply. The Impala obeyed my command and spun around in a cloud of smoke and gravel heading in the opposite direction.

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I stood outside the door of what looked like an old army silo, ear pressed to the door. I could hear voices, but couldn't hear what they were saying because my heart was beating too fast.

I dropped my gaze down to the blade. It warmed and then leapt in my hand like a damn Mexican jumping bean. What was it that lived inside those stupid brown beans that made them jump? If Sam wasn't dead yet, I'd have to remember to ask the Google geek.

I squeezed the blade tighter.

It twitched and went into spasms. It wasn't the first time that the thought crossed my mind that the jawboned-jackass of a thing was just as alive as I was.

I peeled my eyes away, taking a few deep breaths and focusing harder to hear.

The muttered words started to take shape.

"Do you know how much I would love to have your brother here right now while I slit your throat?"

"You're wasting…wasting your time… he won't come for…for me," I heard Sam say between panting breaths.

"I'm beginning to believe you," Karma-guy growled back. And damn his voice sounded familiar. "So what do you think you're brother's thinking?" he asked.

"Something not smart," Sam coughed wetly.

Oh, it was smart all right, and way too easy. I knew who this guy was and his guard was down. He truly believed I wasn't coming. Hell, I wasn't. But somehow here I was.

I sneered, pushing the door open ever so slightly and peering through the crack.

Sam was tied hands and feet to a chair, his nose a bloody mess. His kidnapper stood with his back to me, one big ass knife in his hand that he waved right in Sam's face.

Sam shifted in the chair whipping his head back to escape the blade, the legs scrapping across the dirt floor.

"Your brother may not come for you, Sam, but I am not wasting my time here. I'm going to enjoy the hell out of cutting you up into pieces and saving the best parts for when Dean and I finally do meet up." He grabbed Sam's chin firmly.

Sam tried to yank away, but was held in place.

"Hurt less if you hold still."

"Why are you doing this?" Sam stalled, and I could see he was flexing his leg and arm muscles trying to loosen the bindings.

"I don't like being pushed around," the dick squawked. "And your brother –"

I banged the door wide open. "Is right behind you," I said loudly stalking straight toward them.

The douche whirled around, only stunned for a second. "Dean!" He immediately grabbed Sam by the hair, yanking back and pressing the blade to his exposed throat. "You broke your word." He sneered.

"No I didn't," I sneered in return. "Somewhere down the road just came sooner than expected...Cole," I said his name cockily, eyeing Sam.

Sam stared back at me, muscles taunt, his face expressionless.

"Good. You remember me," Cole laughed.

"I never forget a son of a bitch," I retorted, gripping the blade tighter.

"Son of a whore," Cole corrected sweetly.

"Same thing." I took a step toward him. "Get away from my brother," I said quietly.

Cole pressed the knife into a pulsing vein in Sam's neck and gave the blade a little flick.

"Grrr," Sam groaned, drops of blood welling up out of the cut.

"Stand where you are," Cole said calmly, shoving the blade up higher under Sam's chin.

For a long, cold minute nobody said a word and I held my ground not moving a muscle.

"You also remember, Dean," Cole, the first to break the silence. "That I offered you a chance to make good, and you didn't?"

"Not going to make good now either." I shrugged still staying right where I was.

"Then it's going to be a very bloody evening," Cole challenged, but didn't make a move, still keeping the knife at Sam's throat.

"Awesome." I smiled.

Sam's brow furrowed and he blinked at me.

"I'm going to kill your brother, Dean. Right in front of you," he said, guiding his blade over Sam's Adam's apple, drawing more blood.

Sam didn't make a sound, but his eyes went big.

"Something you need to understand, jack hole" I said nonchalantly. "You have no hold over me." I took a step forward. "You don't kill my brother…I will."

Sam gave a little gasp and looked away.

"You really are a monster, just like Sammy here said you were." Cole looked nervous, running his tongue over his lips.

"He said that?" I raised a brow.

Sam's gaze slid back to meet mine. His eyes always told me the truth.

"Coming from you, little brother, I take that as a compliment." I gave Sam a wink.

"What's going on with you, Dean?" Sam's voice broke. "Who is this guy?"

"Not telling you a damn thing, Sam," I said, taking another step.

"Don't come any closer." The douche leaned his weight into the knife.

Sam didn't dare say another word, or even flinch. His breathing coming hard through his broken nose, more blood trickling down his neck and disappearing under his shirt collar.

"Are you going to give me what I want, Dean? What I deserve? Or not?" Cole's voice was strained.

I brought the blade up to my face, thoughtfully scrapping its boney-sharp teeth across the stubble on my chin. "Or not," I said with certainty. "You can kill my brother," I said, cockiness in my tone. "Or you can dance with me." I spread my cards on the table. "Pretty damn friggin' sure you can't do both and either way you're dead." I took yet another step, the blade relaxed at my side.

"You really think you can take me with that homemade saw of yours?" Cole laughed.

I kept my face expressionless, didn't even blink.

"Cool." Cole released the grip he had on Sam. "Let's dance." He rushed me with the knife.

Eyes locked on my target, I dropped one foot back, raised the blade, and swung full force not having to do any fancy dance move.

In one fluent movement I sheared Cole's head right off his shoulders. "Fly ball," I shouted watching the shit's head bounce off the wall, splat wetly to the floor, and roll sluggishly over to rest near my feet, leaving behind a path of blood.

I gave a wild war cry, raised the blade and brought it down hard, splitting Cole's head in half like a rotten melon, his brains spilling out like a can of squiggly gray worms.

I drew my feet together and stood straight, the blood-washed blade dripping in my hand.

Everything was stone quiet except for my brother's staggered breathing.

Then I felt it. The anger and hate boiling over to an extreme level I never knew could exist in man or monster.

I looked up at Sam.

He physically blanched hard, the chair rocking beneath him threatening to overturn. I knew why.

"Black." I nodded, pointing a finger at my eyes. "It's the new green."

Sam said nothing, just stared at me with shiny tear-filled eyes.

"Aw, Sammy, come on now. This was a schoolgirl's fight." I waved the blade at the headless body. "You've seen worse and I've done worse. You're acting like a shattered bird, broken wing and all." I pointed the blade at his injured shoulder, blood rolling off the tip and dripping to the floor.

I pulled a bandanna from my pocket and strolled over to Sam, gently wiping the blood from his neck.

Sam jolted away from my touch. "Just untie me, Dean," he ground out, tugging at his bindings.

"Not sure I want to do that, bro." I circled the chair like a shark, the scent of blood in the air making my whole body thrum with excitement. Every nasty, rotten, vile thing I ever knew about… ever killed… seemed to come alive and thrash with excitement inside of me.

"Put the blade down," Sam demanded slowly.

"No, Sam," I laughed. Dropping the bandanna to the floor, I pulled the blade protectively to my chest. "We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious."

"Lord of the Rings? Really, Dean?" Sam cocked his head, looking at me like I was a mental patient.

I laughed harder. Maybe I was.

"Put the blade down, Dean, and untie me," Sam repeated in that soft, sweet, watered-down, dewy-eyed way of his.

My laughing suddenly stopped when my hand started shaking violently. I truly didn't want to put the blade down, and it didn't want me to put it down either, but for some reason it suddenly felt too heavy in my hand.

"Dean, I'm begging you, man."

"Shut up, Sam," I hissed, my legs joining in the shaking, and going all Mrs. Butterworth's Maple Syrup on me.

"Who was he? Cole? " Sam asked, changing tactics.

"Nobody, dude. He was nobody." I frowned at Sam in realization. Did baby brother carry some sort of blade kryptonite in his pockets? We couldn't have that. Like the junkie needs the needle, and the needle needs the junkie, the blade and I needed each other.

Sam shook his head looking intently at me as I continued to trudge tiredly around him. I ran a shaky hand through my damp hair. Killing Sam while he sat helplessly tied to a chair was all too tempting. The revolving door was back, and I grimaced at the thought. My stomach twitched a few times threatening to spew all of todays and yesterday's booze at the image of the blade jamming up into Sam's chest, me at the hilt.

I began to feel really wiped-out. Everything hurt. My mouth hurt. My head hurt. My soul hurt. What the hell's happening to me?

"What the hell's happening to me?" Oops, did I say that out loud?

"Dean, the blade…it's making you insane," Sam piped up.

"Only temporarily," I laughed.

"You have to get rid of it. We have to get rid of it," he pleaded with me.

I stopped moving and steadied myself directly in front of Sam. "No."

"So you're just going to give up? Go on a killing spree? Let Crowley continue to keep you caged and leashed, "Sam huffed. "Are you going to let him neuter you too?" he added in a rush of emotion.

I scrubbed at my face and swallowed, my mouth tasting like a tennis shoe. He had a point there.

"Think of all the people we've lost. Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Kevin…the list is endless," Sam continued. "Don't let their deaths mean nothing."

The mark on my arm glowed. The rush of the burn was like liquid fire tearing through to my very core.

It was true. I was toxic, even before the blade had its way with me. Almost everyone we ever loved was slaughtered and butchered in the name of evil. Did I really want to join the ranks of that evil? I hadn't totally transitioned yet.

"We're all that we have left, Dean. You and me. Do you really want to lose us too?"

"However the cookie crumbles, man." Crap Dean make up your mind.

Sam was good at the speeches. I'd give him that. But I couldn't let him know he was getting to me. Man these emotions were going to give me whiplash. I didn't have a handle on anything.

"Dean. Come on, man. You don't want to become this…this…a…" Sam shook his head. "Mom died at the hands of a–"

"Noooooooooo!" I howled, rounding on Sam and shoving the shark-like teeth of the blade into the bloody cut Cole had drawn on his neck.

Sam's breath caught at the touch, and he trembled hard.

"Don't say it," I growled fiercely.

Sam tensed. "Demon," he whispered softly.

I laughed hysterically. Oh, the friggin' irony of it all. "Man, when you add a cherry on top, Sam, you really go for broke, huh?" I leaned into the blade, drawing blood from Sam's neck.

Sam's feet scrambled at the floor, and his teeth ground together. "Do it," he hissed. "Like Cain and Abel. Maybe it's the only way."

"One of the things I still love about you, bro. You've got guts."

Sam stared quietly up at me waiting. I could hear his heart thundering in his chest.

"You really think that could work?" I pushed the blade in a little further.

"I'm willing to give it a try," he said so quietly I hardly heard him.

"Too easy, no fun." I let up the pressure on the blade, but kept it right where it was.

"I'm with you, Dean." Sam's eyes shined with every ounce of brotherliness he could muster. "Whatever we have to do… I'm still your brother." He titled his head to one side eyes bright and watery. "You're still my brother. We've made deals with every evil thing out there. Let's make a deal between us. A deal between brothers," he added. "Come back to the bunker with me. We'll find a way."

My heart slammed into my chest threatening to knock me to my knees. Sam deserved better. He always deserved better, and I never could give it to him. All I ever gave him were empty holes that got filled up with nothing but pain and loss and blood.

"You can't fix me, Sammy," I said sadly, withdrawing the blade and lowering it to my side. "This fearless hero, guns blazing, charging in to save the day crap…. isn't going to work this time. The best deals are no deals at all. You know that. I'm already dead." I ducked my head low, staring him right in the eyes. "You know that too."

"You said yourself once, Dean, there ain't no me if there ain't no you." Sam pushed upright getting in my face. "And I believe in that…in us." He blinked a tear from his eye. "Still believe in you."

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," I sung out, never taking my eyes off of him. "Always preaching from the heart," I muttered.

And for a second there it almost worked as my chest tightened and the grip I had on the blade loosened, my humanity kicking in.

By the time I realized my mistake Sam's balled right fist hit my left cheek. The smartass had gotten free when I was too busy blood lusting.

Lucky for me his punch had no effect. "Nice moves, bro," I muttered in admiration.

"Let me return the favor." I popped him square in the mouth.

Sam groaned and shook his head side to side, his lower lip already fat.

I chuckled, taking note his feet were still bound, keeping his ass in the chair.

Sam shrugged.

"I'm a bulldog, Sam, and I'm not giving up my bone." I pointed the tip of the blade at his heart.

"So, what now, Dean?" Sam clenched his jaw and scowled.

"Maybe I should spill your blood right here." Using the blade like a pencil, I traced his heart, careful not to pierce his skin.

Sam pressed his lips and glowered at me with that bitchface of his.

"Dude, don't you want to go all squishy-adorable-puppy on me?" I snipped.

Sam didn't answer.

"No, huh?" I cocked my head off to one side. "Well, it just so happens… I've decided I like your idea of you and me heading back to the bunker," I chimed happily.

"What? Why?" Sam's eyes went wide.

"Music, beer, and skanks go hand in hand, but I'm getting bored of that party. Need a new bag of tricks and there are lots of tricks bagged back at the bunker." I smiled. "Let's just call it fun, affordable, curiosity."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "The bunkers secrets are to be protected, not used for your entertainment, Dean."

"Think I'll invite Crowley along for the party." I smiled mockingly, watching his anger gather like a spinning tornado.

Sam's shoulders began to shake and his bloody nostrils flared. "Bastard," he hissed, snapping the ties that held his legs, and reaching up to grab a handful of my jacket and pulling himself up to swaying feet.

Before he could curl his fist and cuff me across the face, I grabbed his bad shoulder and pressed my thumb inward.

"Slow your roll, buddy," I yelled, stopping him.

"Guh," Sam cried out. "This isn't you, Dean." He staggered, and made to swing at me again.

I stopped him with a hard right punch.

Sam dropped soundlessly to the floor.

I stowed the blade and crouched down by Sam. "All right, come on, sasquatch." I hauled him up with me and lifted his dead weight over my shoulder like he was a sack of flour. "Taking you home, little brother," I grunted, thumping across the dirt floor and out the door.

"Save you, Dean," Sam struggled briefly then went quiet again.

"Yeah," I said softly. "Ain't a road on this planet that's going to take us there, Sammy."

Ann Marie had it backwards and ass sideways. I wasn't a good guy playing bad, or a bad guy being bad.

The killer inside the blade had gotten inside of me. I was a one hundred percent evil guy… just looking for kicks.

She was right about one thing. It doesn't matter.

The end