This is a sequel for An Eye for An Eye, a fanfic I posted months ago. Please read it first this would make more sense if you read it first. Updates might be slow (I'm working on another story on a different account) but I'll try to update whenever I can. Unlike the previous story this is un-betaed so all mistakes are mine.
WARNING: A major character death happened in An Eye for An Eye but it is referenced in here often (the story is revolved around that).
There ain't no me if there ain't no you.
If only Sam realized how serious Dean was when he said that when he was human.
When Dean carried Sam's lifeless body out of his prison, he had realized that what he felt was probably something similar to how Sam felt when he carried his own body to the Impala.
Dean had woken up on his own bed, still covered in cuts and bruises, but the blood had been washed off of him. Dean had felt something akin to guilt when he realized that Sam had cleaned the blood off his supposedly empty body. Dean had decided to do the same for Sam-which was hard since most of the blood was days old.
After all, when Sam woke up, he wouldn't want to be covered in his own blood.
Maybe it was the realization that he had basically handed his little brother over to a stranger, or the fact that he caused Sam's death, or even seeing his baby brother after weeks trying to stay away from him had Dean try rethink his demon ways.
Dean stood in the doorway, watching Sam's unmoving form on the bed.
He had debated on giving Sam a proper hunter's funeral, but he went against it.
He was going to find a way to bring Sam back.
Then he was going to apologize for everything he had done that led up to Sam's capture. Hell, he will even apologize for the Gadreel mess if that meant Sam would forgive him. But deep down, Dean knew he was in no position to beg for forgiveness. He did not deserve any kind of forgiveness.
He walked over to Sam and pulled the chair to the bed. Dean sat down, staring at the young man on the bed. He reached for Sam's left hand and held it in his own. He had taken the sling off of Sam's right arm when he laid his brother down on the bed. He knew it was useless but it was mocking him. The dark blue stood out in comparison to the sickly gray complexion of the corpse, taunting Dean, reminding him about how he yet again had failed to be at his brother's side.
The upside to being a demon was that he never needed sleep. Resting was nice, especially with a gorgous woman in his bed, but he never needed sleep. No sleep meant that he could sit by the bed Sam laid on and ponder over the ideas of how he could bring Sam back and what to do next.
If he was still human, he still would have ignored the sleep and stayed by his brother, but at least now he didn't have to fight off the insomnia.
"You know, the first time you died, I was desperate," Dean said before taking a sip of his beer. "I was always desperate to save you Sam. That's sort of why I like being this way; I have no responsibilities for you. I'm not responsible for you or your actions. Isn't this what to wanted when you ran off to Stanford? To be normal and not have your brother taking care of you all the time?" Dean took another drink before continuing.
"I thought when that bastard called, you would find a way out. You're a smart ass; you went to Stanford, you did all the research, you're good with picking locks. You didn't need me, and I sure as hell didn't need you." Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. "At least, that's what I thought."
"Turns out we both need each other," he continued, watching the corpse as he spoke. "I shouldn't have taken off on you, but you should have listened to me when I told you to let me go. Now you're dead and I'm left feeling... hell I don't know what I'm feeling. I shouldn't even be feeling anything for fucks sake! I'm a fucking demon!" Dean shouted and abruptly stood up from the chair, knocking it over. Something inside him snapped. "I shouldn't be feeling responsible or sad or anything. Damn it Sam why do you have to destroy what shard of freedom I have left!"
"You took mom away from me. You took away my happiness and my childhood. Why did you have to be a selfish bastard and take away my newly found freedom!"
Somewhere deep inside, Dean felt a small amount of regret from the words he said. Here the shell of his baby brother was, lying in bed beaten and stabbed and all Dean had done was yell at the empty body. He knew that if the old, pre-Mark Dean could see him now, he would probably beat the shit out of him for this.
The sound of a cellphone ringing brought Dean out of his rant. No one had his number. Not even his "demon buddy". But as he pulled out his phone, he realized it wasn't his phone ringing. Dean walked over to the oak desk, cluttered with research and grabbed Sam's phone off his desk. He sighed when he saw the caller ID and answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Dean?"
The angel on the line glanced over at his companion in confusion as she look up at him.
"Dean's with Sam?" Hannah said as she stood from the only chair in their motel room. After weeks of an abstant Dean, she was curious as to why he was back.
"What the hell of you want Cas?" Dean had no time for any of the angel's lectures. He didn't want to talk to his old friend. He had enough crap to deal with without Castiel re-entering his life.
"Dean? Are you okay? Why do you have Sam's phone? I've been trying to reach him for days but he hasn't answered."
Castiel's brow then furrowed in anger, his tone becoming deeper as he realized something.
"What did you do to him?" the angel asked. When Dean did not reply, Castiel felt both fear and anger rising. "Dean what did you do to him? Put Sam on the phone now!" he demanded. If Castiel noticed the way Hannah flinched at the sound of his voice he didn't care to respond to it.
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to lose his temper. He didn't want to talk about how he had practically handed his baby brother over to Death on a silver platter.
"Dean if you don't put Sam on the phone I will use what's left of my newly found grace and smite you until you-"
"Sam's dead."
As soon as the words slipped out of the demon's mouth, the grace-fading angel pause in the middle of his threat.
"What did you do?" Cas said after a couple seconds of processing what Dean had told him.
"I didn't kill him. Someone that had something against me did," he responded in a cool, almost monotone manner.
"So you left your brother, your own flesh and blood, the man you swore to protect over and over agin, to die for whatever you did, while you were off partying with the king of Hell?"
"He was thirty one. He should have know how to take care of himself!"
"Well obviously neither of you know how to!" Cas snapped. "You two are the most codependent people I have ever seen. Sam was basically catatonic, moving through the motions with one one thing on his mind; finding you."
"Well he doesn't have to worry about that anymore Castiel."
The voice on the other line went silent for a few seconds.
"The Dean Winchester I knew-the friend, overprotective brother, the hunter-would be disapointed in you."
"Yeah well that side of Dean Winchester is dead," Dean responded before hanging up on the angel. He knew what he had said hurt Castiel but he didn't care. He had the body of his baby brother in the room and he felt conflicted. The human part of him-or what was left of it-felt angry at the bastard who did this, the demon part of him didn't care, and then there was another undefined part, a small part he would never reveal to anyone, was relieved that Sam was dead. He didn't have to worry about saving his brother anymore, didn't have to watch over him and make sure he was okay. With Sam gone he had no responsibilites.
Why did he even bother keeping the body? He should have just burned it, spare him from this torment.
Just go back to partying with Crowley and killing more people or avenge Sam?
Dean placed his head on the hand still holding the phone and groaned when he heard the faint footsteps behind him.
"So, Squirrel, I see you're in quite the mess."
"I'm not interested in anything you have to say Crowley," Dean said before turning around to face the the once Crossroads demon turned King of Hell. "Unless you want your intestines ripped out through your throat and fed to your hounds then I suggest you stay the hell away from me."
Crowley knew that even before Dean accepted the Mark of Cain he would keep that promise but now as a demon Crowley suspected that Dean would find a way to make his death even more painful than that.
"I heard about what happened to Moose," he said as he pointed to the still figure on the bed. "It's always him getting into trouble isn't it? He's always getting himself kidnapped then you would come in like the hero you were and save him and then the two of you ride off into the sunset on that crap you call a car but it looks like this time you didn't want to save the damsel in distress now did you?"
"Fuck off," Dean growled at the shorter man, turning back to Sam. He reached for Sam's limp hand and held it in his own callous one. It was too cold for his liking, so he couldn't pretend that Sam was just asleep, that he would jump up and shout "gotcha!" and tell Dean that he will find a way to save him.
"Demons aren't usually suppose to feel human emotions lad," Crowley said as he took a step closer to Dean and the man on the bed.
"Well I guess I'm an exception," Dean spat out. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He was pissed at Sam for taking away his freedom and now he was feeling somewhat guilty about Sam. What the hell was going on?
Crowley took a few more steps until he was next to the brothers. He studied Sam, shaking his head when he saw the stab wound and the fading bruises on his throat.
"Well, looks like someone else had a choking fetish for Moose as well."
Crowley didn't get a chance to examine the rest of Sam's broken body for Dean had jumped out of his chair so fast it fell down and pushed Crowley into the wall, far away from Sam. He took out the First Blade and held it to the struggling demon's neck, stilling Crowley.
"You stay away from my brother or else I will put the years of torture Alastair taught me into play and you will be so screwed up you won't be able to tell your face from your back," Dean hissed. Crowley rolled his eyes.
"Always with the threats..."
He was cut off when he felt the blade dig into his neck. It just left a shallow cut but it still stung the demon.
"Get that bloody old bone away from me!" Crowley swatted the demon's hand away from him. He expected Dean to threaten him or even stab him, so it shocked the King of Hell when Dean sat down on the chair that he had been occupying the past few hours without making a comment or move. Once he was seated Crowley took that as the cue to continue.
"Why do you Winchesters get so depressed when one of you die? You know you're going to come back the next day or week so why all the drama!" Crowley knew the Winchesters for longer than he'd like to admit and he saw what happened when one lost the other but what he still didn't understand was how Dean showed the capacity for emotion. "You're a demon for crying out loud! You bear the Mark of Cain himself. You're a pain in the ass and the thing that people and monsters fear so why the hell are you suddenly showing sorrow for someone you explicitly said you no longer cared for!"
Dean looked over at Sam for a few seconds then back at Crowley.
Crowley rolled his eyes. "The relationship you and Moose have is so melodramatic," he said. "Shakespeare could write a tragedy about you two. Actually he has. Haven't you ever read Romeo and Juliet?"
Dean ignored the demon, which was hard to do when the mark started to burn at the words that came out of Crowley's mouth, but the new demon had better things to do.
"Go back to Hell Crowley or else you'll know how Abaddon felt when I shoved this blade through her."
Dean heard Crowley mutter something under his breath before saying outloud, "once you deal with whatever the hell it is you're going to do, you know where to find me Squirell."
Dean turned back to tell Crowley to fuck off when he realized the demon was already gone.
He went over to the desk and grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on, sliding the blade into the inside pocket. He walked back to the bed and gently laid his hand on Sam's bruised cheek.
"I've decided that I will make that son of a bitch pay for what he did. I will try to bring you back but when I do then I'm going back to not giving a shit about anything and we'll all be happy."
He took a step back and stared at his brother one last time before exiting.
Dean, too caught up in his plan for revenge, didn't notice the sudden flicker of an apparition that appeared in the room. The ghost watched as the demon walked out of the room, unable to stop him from leaving.
"Dean..."