Title: The Road to Hell
Author:Nicole
Disclaimers: These characters aren't mine. Spoilers up through 4x14. Also, I feel inclined to mention that there is a spoiler for upcoming episodes in this story. There was a spoiler floating around out there, and I took the idea of that spoiler and used it in here. I do not know if the show is going the same direction I did, or even if the spoiler is real… so read at your own risk.
Summary: Post-ep Sex and Violence, 4x14. Dean stops lying to himself about what's really happening with Sam. Sam takes it all a step further.
Pairing:None
Rating: Just some language.
Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fanfic, and the first 'fic I've written in many years. I would love feedback. Thanks to Jen for the beta and encouragement. You rock. Music and lyrics credits are at the end.
This kind of loneliness is way too hard
I've been wandering, feeling all alone
I lost my direction and I lost my home
They told lies over bottled colas, placating each other to insure a drama-free drive, jumped in the Impala and had not spoken since. Dean had fully intended on driving all night to get away from Bedford and the memory of the siren, but after only an hour, he pulled into the parking lot of the next no-tell motel he saw and Sam didn't question his choice. They were riding in silence, tension thick, and beat all to hell. Dean parked directly in front of the motel office, but neither brother moved to get out of the car.
When the silence had stretched too long, Dean reached into his pocket, removing his wallet. Taking half of the money out, he handed it to Sam and then reached behind him to grab his duffel. The movement shot pain through his shoulder, and Dean was sure the careful stitches Bobby had made were now ripped open. Dean kept his eyes lowered and tried not to let Sam know.
"What's this for?" Sam's hand was still open, palm up, the folded bills balancing precariously.
"Food, room, a good lay. Whatever you want it for, Sam." Dean's duffel bag was sitting in his lap. One hand was on the door handle and the other on the steering wheel, like he couldn't decide if he was coming or going.
"I have money, Dean…" Sam said, trailing off. "And don't we usually put the room on credit?"
"Yeah, I know." Dean didn't look up, didn't make eye contact with Sam. He couldn't. "I think you should get your own room."
Sam's hand closed over the bills. "I thought you said we were okay, Dean? I told you that I didn't mean any of it. It was the siren's spell." He sighed. Even to Sam, the words sounded hollow. "We both said stuff we didn't mean."
The Impala's door creaked open. Dean grabbed his duffel bag from his lap and put one foot out the door. "I meant everything I said, Sam."
They made eye contact for a moment, but it was all Sam could bear. Short of death, he'd never seen Dean's eyes so hollow.
"Look, I'm sorry that I tried to, you know, cut your head off. I really am. But I'm not going to apologize for what I said."
Sam wasn't sure which was more disturbing- that Dean's eyes were so scarily empty, or that he never raised his voice above a ragged whisper. On the other hand, Sam could feel his own frustration rising and took a few deep breaths before he spoke.
"So, what, Dean? We're just going to get separate rooms and go our own way? What about the next job?"
Dean ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know, Sam. I really don't. Hell, I just want to sleep and figure this out tomorrow." Maybe wake up and realize this was all a nightmare. "You should do the same."
"In my own motel room?" Sam asked, his voice incredulous.
"Just do it. Or don't. Whatever. Call Ruby and run off to fight demons together." He stopped himself when his voice began to rise. Dean sighed, and to Sam it sounded like the final sigh of a dying man, ragged and weak. "I don't want to fight, Sam, and I don't want to talk anymore."
With that, Dean pulled himself the rest of the way out of the car, slammed the door, and didn't look back.
***
And I wish I could know if the directions that I take,
and all the choices that I make won't end up all for nothing
Sam locked the motel door behind him. He tossed his duffel bag onto the bed, the movement causing an involuntary grunt of pain. Dean had wrenched Sam's left arm pretty good last night. Nothing broken, but he was sore enough. Sam reached his right arm back, fingering the handle-shaped bruise on his right hip. He'd fallen just right on the door he'd been flung through, landing on the door handle.
Of course, thanks to Bobby, he'd avoided an axe through the neck, so he really couldn't complain about a few cuts and bruises. And Dean had been the one to get stabbed. Physically, Sam had made out alright. He shook his head, knowing that he had inflicted the most damage with his words.
…whining about all the souls you tortured in Hell.
Boo hoo.
Sam ran his hand from his eyes back through his hair. He remembered- vividly- everything he'd said to Dean. The words wouldn't stop replaying in his head.
I'm a better hunter than you.
Stronger. Smarter.
Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, Sam headed to the shower. He wasn't going to feel any better about him and Dean, but he could at least feel clean. The warm water prickled his skin. He tried to shut his mind down, but he couldn't seem to stop the streaming feed of thoughts. How was he going to fix this? Dean hadn't even wanted to look at him today, and Sam didn't blame him.
The Sam I knew. He's gone.
Dean wasn't wrong.
It's the little stuff. The lies. The secrets.
Sam scrubbed the soap over his chest, his arms, and his hair. The warm water over his face stung, the bruises that Dean's fists had left behind throbbed in time with Sam's heartbeat.
The lies. The secrets.
It was all necessary. Dean had made his opinion perfectly clear over the years. Sam's abilities scared the crap out of Dean.
What secrets?
The phone calls to Ruby-
Sam sighed and leaned his head against the tiles. The water streamed down his back.
Ruby.
She was his savior. She was a pain the ass. Ruby was needed. Ruby was expendable. He trusted her… but only so far. Sam was certain Ruby was playing him, just as much as he was using her. He wanted answers. He wanted to be strong enough to take down Lilith. Ruby could teach him that.
He stood up under the stream again. The water had turned cold. He let it run down his face, ignoring the chill in his body.
He'd continue to learn from Ruby as long as was necessary. He needed to be strong enough to beat Lilith. He was the only one who could and she was the only demon willing to teach him. He didn't want to lie to Dean. He wanted to be on the same side as his brother, but Dean would never understand. Sam was doing everything for Dean.
Sam turned the water off and dressed quickly. Outside the motel window, the sun was dipping low in the sky, and Sam's stomach rumbled right on cue. Maybe he could get Dean to go out and grab a bite with him. There was a bar just down the street. They could talk things over. Try and patch up-
He turned toward the knock at the door, hope and surprise welling up. Maybe it was Dean? Sam crossed the room quickly, flinging open the door.
Standing with her arms crossed, head tilted, and hip cocked out to one side was Ruby.
Sam tried not to let the disappointment show on his face as he invited her in.
***
Where did I go wrong?
I lost a friend somewhere alone in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
He checked in to his room and immediately went to the shower. Dean was sore and tired and his shoulder wound needed to be redressed. He was on auto pilot as he moved through the motel room. He stopped, finally, in front of the bathroom mirror and managed to look himself in the eye for the first time that night.
Whining about all the souls you tortured in Hell. Boo hoo.
The mirror lay in tiny shards all around him before he even realized he had hit it. Running his split knuckles under the cold tap, he fought back the fear that was churning inside him. He breathed through the ache in his chest, the certainty that he'd reached the end of his ability to deny what was happening to his brother.
You're not standing in my way. Anymore.
He'd seen a bar within walking distance from the parking lot, and he quieted his mind with the promise of thought-numbing alcohol. His gut twisted once at the sight of the empty second bed, but he tamped the feeling down and kept moving. If he kept moving, everything would be okay. It was times like these- quiet and alone- that would drive him mad. He'd begin to think, let the wall drop between saving people, hunting things and I went to Hell and tortured people. If he thought about Hell with a clear mind he'd never come out of the bottle. If he added up every thought, every that's not Sammy, why is my brother acting this way, he would have to admit the truth and actually do something about it. So he kept moving, and he closed the thoughts down.
Dean properly armed himself, grabbed his wallet and phone and headed out the door.
***
He was across the street and within spitting distance of liquid salvation when he realized something. He knew the couple walking not two hundred yards in front of him. He'd recognize the long, sure strides and floppy hair of his brother anywhere. How the hell Ruby had gotten in touch with Sam so quickly was beyond him.
He was being ditched, again. He shook his head at his naïve surprise and pushed the hurt down to the place inside him where he stored all of the useless emotions. He wasn't sure how much more hurt, pain, fear, guilt and bitterness could fit down there.
For just a moment, Dean considered remaining on his current mission: licking his wounds in the dive bar, drinking until he couldn't remember what Sam had said, and staggering back to his empty motel room. Wash, rinse, repeat for the rest of his damned existence. But the thought vanished quickly to be replaced by the far more entertaining thought of following his little brother. Dean reached into his pocket, turning his cell phone to vibrate. There was nothing more annoying than getting a call while trying to be sneaky.
It turned out Dean didn't have to walk too far. A good thing in his book, too. His shoulder was throbbing and the numbness in his face had worn off. Where bruises were sure to show tomorrow, his face was pulsing right along with his quickening heartbeat.
He felt a quick pang of regret, the feeling catching him off guard so suddenly that he almost stopped his pursuit. He didn't like that he was reduced to tailing his own brother. It spoke volumes about the actual state of their relationship that they couldn't just sit and work this out. Dean knew though, knew since he got out of the pit, that all of their conversations had been tinged with regret and bitterness and guilt. There was no communicating through all of that. They tiptoed around anything real, anything too painful. Talk shop, do the job, move on. If a real emotion did work its way out, neither brother wanted to dwell on it too long. Just how was one expected to react to I started ripping them apart, or I have demon blood in me, Dean, I'm a whole new level of freak?
Ruby and Sam turned down a dark alley and disappeared. Dean counted to ten and then followed. There was only one door in the alley that wasn't barred and padlocked, but Dean didn't open it just yet. A window, just a few feet to the left of the door, provided him unlimited viewing access. Beyond the window was a shipping warehouse. For all intents and purposes it looked as though it was usually empty. Tonight, however, Dean watched as his brother paced in front of a man tied to a chair. Ruby, arms crossed and watching with an amused gleam in her eye, leaned against the nearest pillar.
Dean hated the way she looked at Sam. Ruby watched him like an appraising teacher might watch a gifted student. She gave him an oily half-smile when he did well, and cocked her hip and glared when she disapproved. But what Dean hated most was the hunger and possessiveness in her eyes.
He wasn't sure why Sam didn't see it, either. Maybe Sam did see it and didn't care. Dean had been a card-carrying member of the "We hate Ruby Club" since day one. He saw the way she strung Sam along, feeding first into his fears about Dean going to hell, then feeding into his desires to save Dean from the pit. After that had proved useless, she'd pushed Sam into using his powers to try and kill Lilith.
Desperation.
Guilt.
Revenge.
Sam had said that Ruby had saved his life, kept him alive when Dean was rotting in hell. Dean hadn't realized how bad it was until Sam admitted sleeping with and trusting her. Dean had made up his mind about Ruby that same night. He'd play nice and see where this was going. Sam trusted Ruby, and by questioning Sam's loyalty Dean was only going to push Sam right to Ruby's waiting arms. So he had apologized to Ruby, hell even thanked her for saving Sam. Dean would play his cards right until her real end-game presented itself. Ruby was grooming Sam, and Dean wanted to know why.
Of course, up until recently, he'd thought Sam would see reason. Now, he and Sam weren't on the same page… hell they weren't even in the same friggin' book. If something was to go down right now, and Dean charged in there, he wasn't sure Sam would have his back. It'd be him against a demon and… whatever the hell Sam was.
The thought that he didn't know what side Sam was on scared the hell out of him.
He focused back in on the warehouse where Sam and Ruby appeared to be arguing. Sam raised his arm, the same way Dean had seen him exorcise demons before, but then he lowered it. Ruby gestured at the man tied to the chair and yelled some more. It was all too muffled for Dean to make anything out, but he didn't sense that Sam was in any danger from Ruby or the demon in the chair, so he stayed put. Finally, Sam threw his hands in the air, and Ruby produced a syringe from her jacket. She quickly took blood from the man in the chair, as if she'd done it a hundred times, capped the syringe and placed it back in her pocket. They exchanged a few more heated words and then Sam raised his hand and began to exorcise the demon.
Dean watched, the pit in his stomach growing blacker and wider. The demon was out in moments; Sam was getting better and faster at expelling them. Dean waited for the black smoke to sink to the ground like before, only it never did. Instead the black smoke rose up. Sam's left hand went to his temple and his outstretched hand bent inward, coming to rest on his own chest. The expelled demon went right for him, and straight down Sam's throat.
Dammit Sam, no.
Dean's skin crawled and his blood ran cold. Before his brain could force his legs toward the door, Sam was expelling the demon again. Sam's hand left his chest, his arm stretched out again, palm down, and the demon smoke left Sam's body, burning red and black on the ground. Dean grabbed the alley wall for support and turned his gaze to Ruby. The demon was smiling, her hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer. Sam turned his head just right and Dean could see the smile of pride and relief on his little brother's face. He didn't look to be in any pain and his nose wasn't bleeding. He'd been practicing this behind Dean's back.
There was a line, and Sam was way over it. Maybe Sam had crossed it a long time ago, but Dean couldn't make excuses anymore. That thought alone made Dean's whole body ache. Just as Dean was about to walk away, Ruby produced the syringe of blood from her jacket. Something inside Dean twisted, his heart started to thump wildly, and he knew.
The last image burned into his memory before he turned down the alleyway was Sam injecting the demon's blood into his forearm.
****
So while you're outside looking in
Describing what you see
Remember what you're staring at is me
Dean had no idea how he made it back to his motel. He found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the door. Now that his adrenaline was leveling off, he was shaking. That realization only served to piss him off more. Dean Winchester didn't shake, dammit. And, while he was thinking about it, Dean Winchester didn't run away from a fight, either. What was he doing back at his room?
Dean drew his knees up to his chest and breathed deeply. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw bright flashes behind the lids. He wasn't sure if he was holding back a headache, tears, or his brain from frigging melting out through his eyes, but he continued to press until he was sure none of those would happen.
Sliding back up the door, he stood holding the door frame while the room stopped its tilting. He dug through his duffel until he found the small flask of whiskey and took a few pulls of the warm elixir. It coated his throat and burned all the way down, warming him instantly. As soon as it hit his belly, his stomach rebelled and he was rushing to the bathroom to expel it all. He rested his head on the wall by the toilet, flushing the whiskey and bile that he'd just vomited. He screwed the cap back on the flask and threw it out the bathroom door. It landed somewhere near the bed.
Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled down until he found the name he wanted. His finger hovered over the send button. This call would mean admitting that he was in over his head. It would mean he couldn't handle his brother alone. He'd have to come clean, about everything, and Dean wasn't sure he could do that. It was one thing for him to justify Sam's actions to himself- he was his brother. You made exceptions and allowances for family- whether right or wrong, you just did. No one else would see Sam through the same filter.
Except, maybe…
Would he see evil? Or would he see someone who had taken the wrong path for the right reasons? Someone who needed to be pulled back not pushed away. Sam's heart was in the right place, or it had at least started out that way. He wanted to save people, and use his curse for something noble. Dean fully believed that Sam's intentions had started out good.
The road to Hell…
You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going.
Dean shook his head and looked back at his phone's display. Taking a breath that was shakier than he would ever admit, he pressed the send button.
"Bobby. It's Dean."
End
Lyrics are credited to: Rolling Stones (Laugh, I Nearly Died), Hoobastank (Crawling in the Dark), The Fray (How to Save a Life), Stoned Sour (Through Glass).
Author's Note: I have plans for a follow-up story, but it's still in outline form. Thanks so much for reading, and I would love feedback.