He sat, shoulders hunched down, in the farthest corner of the dimly lit establishment, eyes focused intently at the small, dingy tin box in his large, calloused hands. The relatively crowded bar was filled with laughter and light blues music, the smell of sour whiskey and stale cigarettes surrounding him. He paid attention to none of that, however.
If the rest of the bar had been paying attention, they might have noticed the handsome man, alone in the corner, absorbed in some inner debate, his face contorted into a mask of forced neutrality. Body still and rigid, as if a sudden move or sound would shatter his concentration.
The fact of the matter was, Sam had already fought that battle. And won. One thought had led him back. It's going to be tonight. Nothing would stop him from his mission. It was now or never. Heaven or Hell. Fight and die trying. He fiddled with the top of the tin box. Everything was ready, the ingredients found and accounted for.
Nothing would stop him. It's going to be tonight. He'd avenge Dean's death… and then lay down and die himself. Sam saw nothing left except emptiness: being alone in the world wasn't what he'd signed up for.
No one would stop him. No one knew where he was, and that was okay. Sam Winchester had come to Lloyd's, the place it had all started in his mind. Stood to reason this is where it should end.
So he didn't notice Chloe Sullivan's keen, sorrowful gaze on him from the bar entrance, hadn't bothered to look up at his surroundings, because none of it had mattered.
&&&&&
Chloe never thought she'd find Sam: a week of hard, in depth research, scouring maps, using Oliver Queen's advanced tracking facilities, had turned up nothing. Never once had she forgotten how good he was at making himself disappear: the Winchesters were great at many things, and making themselves scarce, to hide from the rest of the world and themselves was at the top of the list.
But she'd remembered Dean's last request: Go find my brother. He needs you now. Chloe bit her lip and took a step into the dimly lit bar, the butterflies fluttering frantically in her stomach. Searching for Sam had only made her wish Dean were around, though she knew that could only happen at the cost of her life. She was trying to deal with the fact that he was gone, parted from her forever, but somehow, finding Sam seemed the priority. Because he really didn't have anyone else. He was alone. No family, no friends save herself to help him. Frankly, she'd been worried about his mindset. People on the verge of a massive meltdown tended to do dangerous, deadly things. Dean Winchester had been proof of that. Wasn't his brother the reason why he'd made the crossroads pact to begin with?
In the end, that question had ultimately been the way Chloe had found Sam. Something inside told her he would make a deal of some kind, though she shuddered at the thought of Sam sacrificing his life for his brother's. What was it about the Winchester clan that made them all believe they were less than worthy? she asked herself as she moved towards Sam's table. She'd been asked the same question several times by various members of the Justice League. They understood the nature of sacrifice, but since most of them were only children, Chloe knew they didn't know what it was like to lost their only family. The only reason why she did was through studying the Winchester Way of Life: hunt, fight, be strong, protect the ones you love at any cost… no matter the cost.
Dean had done that for Sam. They told her their father John had done the same for Dean. Chloe only feared Sam was going to attempt the same.
He hadn't looked up, she'd noted, and wound her way around tables and people, moving towards him quietly. She saw his entire focus on something in his large hands, his entire being wrapped up in his thoughts. The dark, empty look on his face made her shiver a little, because what she found there was death. Sam Winchester wanted to die: she could feel it in her bones. She only hoped she could make him see there were other things worth living for. Sliding soundlessly into the seat across from him, Chloe wondered how she was going to make that happen: hadn't she been there the last several months herself?
Something moved in Sam's periphery and he looked up, startled but not wholly surprised to find Chloe Sullivan sitting opposite him, her face a gravestone of determination and fear. Their gazes met but Sam quickly looked back down. He hid the small box underneath the table. "So you found me," he whispered dully, not looking at her.
"I did." Chloe shifted in the uncomfortable seat and put her hands on the table. "What are you doing here, Sam?"
He shrugged. "What made you decide to track me down four months later?"
"Why did you take off right after you found out that…?" She couldn't finish her words. They were much too painful to mention. And from the looks of things, Sam didn't need the reminder, either.
"Doesn't matter, Chloe. Nothing does."
"It does too matter, Sam. It mattered to Dean. It matters to me." She pressed her fingers against the table to emphasize her words. He hadn't looked up at her yet, and she realized he was waiting for something. The thing in his hands was the key. Fear closed in over her heart.
Sam shut his eyes and pounded his empty fist against his thigh. He didn't want to hear this. She shouldn't even be here: covering his tracks had been way too easy, and frankly, it annoyed him that she found him anyway. No thanks to her Justice League friends who could find an ant in the middle of the Artic with all their technology… and money. "Dean's dead. How can it matter now?"
She flinched visibly at his tone. What has she expected, though, wine and roses? "Because Dean came to me in spirit form and told me to find your emo ass," she snapped a little harshly. "He said you needed me, and I think he's right. You're a mess, and I bet you've got some plan to take vengeance on another crossroads demon, don't you?"
Dark, angry, piercing hazel eyes pinned her to her seat suddenly. "Dean's spirit?" he practically cackled. "Figured. I'm the one with no one left in the world, and Dean goes to you, his walking, breathing heart." His voice cracked with emotion, and the bitterness replaced his anger.
Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, but she ignored them. "I'm sorry, Sam," she whispered painfully. "So sorry, you have no idea."
"That's right, you don't. You still have your League buddies and your cousin. Some kind of family, right? And what do I have? Nothing. All of my family's gone. They're all dead, killed by the things we hunted for so long. So don't give me the 'you have so much to live for' spheel, because I don't really want to hear it."
Chloe sighed, feeling a little more than defeated and unsure where to go next. The desire to give up was great, but she wasn't going to. Sam wasn't beyond saying. If anything, she was determined to make him see that he had her as a friend. It didn't matter anymore whether she hated him or not.
"Too bad, Winchester, because you're going to listen to it," she replied with an edge in her voice. "Because I have something to say to you." She sucked in a deep breath and ignored the fact that he was blatantly ignoring her.
"You're hurting, and I can't begin to imagine what it must like to lose the people who mean the most in the world to you. Even with my catatonic mother locked safely away in one of Oliver's facilities, I still know she's alive and more or less well. I might never see her again, but at least I know she's there."
Sam made no acknowledgement that he was listening to her, but his body grew rigid suddenly. He was hearing her words, she figured. That was enough for now.
"I lost Dean, too, Sam. And I loved him more than I've ever loved anyone." She paused and collected herself. Emotions would not get in the way of this. "And I lost him, too, because yeah, it was my fault, okay? The demon went after me, because it knew that's how it could achieve maximum carnage. And it succeeded: I should be dead, not your brother. I understand and accept that. I hope you do, Sam.
"What's more? I don't want you going through this alone. I get that we haven't been on speaking terms for awhile, but tonight, we're changing things, I hope." She paused and waited for him to say something. When he didn't, Chloe's face screwed up into a ball of frustration. "Geeze, you're like talking to Clark sometimes, all big, burly, and uncooperative."
"Everything's going to change tonight, Chloe," he whispered dully after several tense, quiet moments passed.
She didn't know what to say for a moment. "Okay, be kind, rewind. What are you talking about?"
"You heard me. This is where it all started, where we figured out how Dad kept Dean alive. Seems reasonable I should end it all here."
For a long moment, Chloe didn't know what to tell him. Her body felt numb with grief: Dean was so much better at talking his brother out of doing insanely stupid things. Usually he'd just take a potshot at Sam until he snapped out of his senses, which only resulted in their childish games starting up again. "Are you… gonna do what… I think you're gonna do, Sam?" she whispered fearfully.
In response, Sam smacked the small tin box back on the tabletop and glared at her. "No, I've just struck gold and I want to share it with the locals in the bar. What do you think, Chloe?"
His voice was hard and sharp: he had learned snark from Dean way too tell, she mused. She leaned forward. "If you think for one minute I'm going to let you trade your soul for Dean's, you have another thing coming."
Sam laughed cynically. "Why not? You'd be happier, and I should be dead to begin with."
"And Dean wouldn't have made such a deal if he didn't think you were worth keeping alive!"
"And yet I still think Dean's better off living than I am!"
Their voices had begun to carry across the room, and several bar patrons had begun to look curiously at them. Neither seemed to care. "I want him back, too, Sam, but I am not going to allow you to trade your soul for his!"
"Who's going to stop me? I've got everything ready, and it's time." He indicated to the clock, which was just striking midnight.
"Sam, please," she begged quietly. "Don't do this."
Without another word, Sam stood up slowly, tin box grasped firmly in his hand, and walked away without a backward glance. It was time. He was going through with this. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid: Dean would be back, and he'd have some time with him before they took his soul. Besides, Chloe would be much happier to have his brother back. It was written in her eyes: she was just as empty as he was, Sam thought and pushed the door open.
The night air had a hint of chill, the change in season hanging in the air. Sam strode with a purpose towards the crossroads. The middle of the road. Such an easy thing to do, giving up his life for his family's. He was simply following in his father's footsteps. Dad would be proud.
"Hell, no, Dad wouldn't be proud," an irritated, disjointed voice snapped fiercely. "If he was here, he'd smack some sense into you."
Sam lifted his head, shock numbing the pain briefly as he saw Dean standing just in front of where he needed to dig. A pissed off, ghostly Dean Winchester. His arms were crossed and that all-too-familiar frown plastered on his face.
"Dean?" Sam whispered, unable to believe what he was seeing.
"No, your other dead brother. Who do you think, bitch?"
"Jerk." Sam's voice warbled at the familiar name calling, the word escaping his lips automatically. His knees felt weak but he refused to fall to the ground. "What the hell? You're dead."
"And yet, I keep coming back because you and Chloe can't keep it together." The ghostly Dean warbled a little, like a television picture distorted by disturbances in satellite reception. "And I don't have long, so you better listen, and listen good."
"But, Dean –"
"No buts, Sammy, I mean it." Dean waggled a finger behind Sam. "Chloe needs you, man. She needs someone to get her through this. Just like you need her. She's the only one who can save your emo butt, because I don't want to see you die."
"But you're supposed to be alive, Dean, remember? I died. You shouldn't have made a deal to bring me back. It's not fair!"
"And if you made a deal? What then? I'd have to watch you die, wouldn't I? And if the damn thing decides to come after you early, or decides it can't wait until the contract is up… what then? Wouldn't I be in torment, just like you are?"
Sam heaved a sputtering sigh, trying to choke back the tears that had formed in his eyes. "It's so good to see you, man," he whispered. Dean's words hadn't quite sunk in yet. For the moment, he was just grateful he could see his brother again before…
"No, don't even think that!" Dean shouted.
Sam gave him a look. "Since when could you read minds?" he demanded.
"Since I died and went to a much better place, where I can do whatever I want to make me happy, Sammy."
A better place? He wasn't in hell, then? Was it possible that somehow, the demon's decision to take Dean early resulted in a null and void contract?
"God, who cares, dude? I'm happy. I'm at peace. Does it really matter?" Dean took a step towards Sam but was distracted by noise behind his brother. There, standing just outside the doorway, was Chloe. His love. His heart. He smiled slightly and ignored the empty ache being parted from her created inside. She was alive, and from the concerned look on her face, she had found a new purpose: taking care of Sam. "Please, Sammy, take care of my girl. You don't know what she's been through."
Sam frowned and cast a backward glance at Chloe. "That's because she didn't want me around," he whispered.
"No, when you ran away from the hospital after you found out I'd died, she was left alone to deal with burying me, dude. And it's not like she's leaned on what family and friends she has: she'd rather bottle it up all inside than show them how much she's hurting."
How very Chloe, Sam thought with a sad smile. He looked at Dean's face and nodded. "What am I supposed to do, Dean? How can I take care of her if I'm so…" He sighed and let his words fall by the wayside.
Dean smirked, his ghostly features beginning to fade. "You'll think of something. After all, you're so good with the 'emo chick rock I can relate to your pain' thing." He was fading into the darkness, so he called out, "Take care, little brother. I'll be watching over you two!"
And just like that, Dean Winchester – what was left of him – was gone. Vanished into the night like the ghost he was. Sam wanted to call out his brother's name, but found he lacked the voice to do so. It was only then he realized the tears streaking down his face. He wiped them away and turned to Chloe, who was still standing where she'd stopped, just outside the bar. Her frightened eyes looked at Sam and then past him into the night. Had she seen him, too?
"Who were you talking to?" she asked in a small voice. Her mind was already working frantically, trying to think of some way to get Sam out of the deal she was sure he just made.
Smiling a little, Sam held up the tin box, since he had never buried it, and looked at her. "Made a deal," he replied and walked towards her.
The fear intensified, but Chloe frowned at the implication. He hadn't buried the box, which meant he hadn't made a deal with a demon. Who, then? It couldn't have been… "Dean?" she whispered, her voice still small with uncertainty.
"Dean," he repeated and put the small tin box in her hand. "I saw him, Chloe. He appeared to me, and we were finally able to agree on something."
"Which was… what?"
"That I needed to take care of you, like you needed to take care of me."
Chloe cocked an eyebrow, a little uncertain of what Sam was talking about. "That's basically what Dean told me, Sam, but… how did you come to this startling conclusion?"
Sam thought long and hard for his answer, because for a moment, it escaped him. But something Dean had told him had struck a chord in his soul, had filled the empty place that had tortured him ever since he died. There was someone in this world who gave a damn whether he lived or died. And that person was standing in front of him, looking anything but completely defeated by her mental and emotional state. And if Chloe Sullivan, who loved Dean with all her heart and soul, could survive, then so would Sam Winchester.
Together, they'd find a way through the pain. For the first time in so long, Sam felt some hope flare in his chest. He looked down at Chloe and replied simply, "Because sometimes the deals we make aren't for souls or second chances - they're just to hold on to the only thing we've got left."