A/N: Well here it is, as promised, my season 10 fic, such a contrast to the last fic I posted as this is quite a bit darker. I started this before season 10 began so it was my view of how the events would go. Of course now it's pretty much AU. I did incorporate some elements of what I knew of the plot at that time such as Sam would do some "dark" things to save Dean and he had an injured shoulder. I also ended up adding in the aspect of the note Sam found but you'll see my interpretation is a bit different than the show. Also, there is a character that appears in this chapter that might seem similar to another but it's purely coincidental.
A/N 2: The title of the fic comes from the song Everything Goes Black by Skillet. I'm pretty proud of this fic because I put a lot into it. I'm also nervous about it too in regards to how I portrayed the characters and if people will like it. I have to admit it was so much fun getting inside Sam's headspace though. A lot of the time, Sam ends up hurt in my fics so his POV might not be as dominant. I find his POV lacking the in the show much of the time too, which is a shame.
A/N 3: I want to give a special shout out to my friends Melanie and Elena on Twitter as we discussed some of the elements in this fic being included in the show. Elena, I also hope Elektra is doing better :)
Everything Goes Black
"I need a minute now to heal
I need a minute now to remember how to feel"-Skillet
If there was one thing that he was successful at, it was the art of failure. If the old adage rang true that practice makes perfect, he surely had practiced enough to know he had it down. He knew what it was like to shoot for the moon, give it your all, but still always come up short, but not short on failure. Failure he could do. Sadly though, when he came up short, he ended up taking people down with him. He also knew he had no one to blame but himself. Sure, he always felt like his choice and free will were often not his own but he knew there should be some way he could change things.
As a kid, he often felt powerless. He felt impure, not good enough, and deep down he was right. He had been tainted with demon blood as a child so from the start he would always fail at being "normal." He gave it a good go though, trying to make the most of it even when they were out hunting, but his choices were not his own. If he wanted to stay at school and finish out a school year, he was quickly dragged back out on the road by his father. When he begged and pleaded to attend his high school graduation, he found himself in the high school office collecting his diploma and saying a hasty goodbye. Finally though, he had thought he had achieved autonomy when he was accepted into Stanford, but then he quickly failed at that too, later even finding out that a plan had been put in place for him. His friends were quite possibly all demons in disguise and he was just being led to his dark destiny. He watched his one chance at normal go up in smoke literally, as his girlfriend burned on the ceiling above him. Then it was time to hit the road again. However, being back out on the road with Dean, his brother, well he couldn't call that a failure, could he?
He couldn't call it a success either, because he had failed his big brother over and over again. Even when he was so sure he could make things right, ultimately he failed. He chose goodness and was stabbed in the back, forcing his brother into an impossible deal. Then he knew he could save Dean, just as he had saved him, but he failed. Again. Dean was torn to shreds in front of him, yet by some miracle he got him back. Then he wanted so much to make him proud, use his dark powers for good, save people, stop a frigging apocalypse, yet he was just a pawn in a game. A failure. The look of betrayal on Dean's face was hard to shake but again he knew he could make it right.
"I'm the least of you," he said when he made his choice to jump into that pit. He meant every word. His life certainly was far less important than anyone else's. He remembered the feeling when he wrested control from Lucifer, the sheer joy that he had finally won. Then as he leaped into that hole, arms spread wide, there was no fear at what awaited him, just a feeling of freedom, as he freefell, the air rushing through his ears. In the end, even that wasn't enough, sacrificing everything was ultimately a failure. He was brought back, without his soul, without what inherently made him who he was, a deeply flawed but still human being, instead reduced to a mere automaton acting on instinct, killing on a whim. The memories were hard to live with, hard to accept but he did accept them because he wasn't leaving his brother alone out there, and maybe, just maybe his brother still believed in him.
Finally he had taken on the trials and he was ready to lead Dean to that light because there was no way Dean was sacrificing himself for him again, but he didn't know then that he would get so ill, didn't know how many more lives would be lost as Crowley fought back and murdered Sarah right in front of him. He was sure just before she died that he saw a look of condemnation flicker in her eyes as the light went out and burn right through him. Yet, somehow he carried on.
"I think we can win this," he had said, and yet again, despite his track record he had hope that they could. Then as he drained his own blood, finally breaking through Crowley's demonic wall, he could feel the life also draining out of him. He was ready to die. Was he suicidal? No, just willing to make that sacrifice to close hell for good, to not let Dean down anymore, to let Dean see he could be trusted, to make up for his greatest sin. But he failed at that too. He'd chosen to live, for his brother but neither knew it was too late already, too much damage had been done to his body. As he collapsed in that church, he knew deep down that he was going to die but damn it if this time he wasn't going to do it right.
He asked Death to make it permanent this time. "No one can reverse it, no one can deal it away, and no one else gets hurt because of me," he requested of Death.
However, asking Death to just let him stay dead was just another failure to add to his list. He had been brought back, again a puppet on a string, ending lives. He wondered what Kevin thought as he saw someone he trusted approach him and then ultimately end his life. Did he think he had been betrayed? He wondered if Kevin was even shocked. Maybe for Kevin, it was an in character thing for Sam to do, betray, fail, let people down, let people die. Sure seemed in character to him.
Now Dean was dead too. Well he was, a result again of his trusty ball and chain of failure. He might as well have stabbed him himself. However, true to form, Sam wasn't going to stop, even if his brother was a demon, even if his arm was mangled.
ooooo
Sam Winchester sat, shirtless, on the edge of a gurney in the stark, curtained off cubicle of the local ER, lost in thought about his past transgressions. He shivered and attempted to make himself comfortable but it was impossible. It seemed he was too large for his surroundings or maybe they were just too small for him. It certainly seemed that way as he felt a sudden surge of claustrophobia. He edged his way backwards on the meager hospital bed but still he seemed precariously close to the edge, like he might fall off. It seemed this feeling pervaded his life lately. He was so close to the edge, as if just one little push and he'd be falling off the side of the Earth. He tried to level out his breathing as a nurse thrust the curtain aside and stepped in.
Sam grimaced and held on to his arm for dear life. The pain was unbearable and he felt if he didn't hold on tight, his arm might detach itself from his body. It dangled uselessly from his shoulder and any movement, no matter how minute, sent spikes of fire rippling from the top if his arm to his fingertips.
"How you doing sweetie?" She asked, in a perky voice.
Sam bit his lip, and grunted in response.
"Is the pain that bad?"
Sam nodded, his head suddenly heavy as the pain made him light headed. He felt himself pitching forward but then the nurse was by his side, trying to help him lean back on the bed.
"I'm sorry but it's a madhouse in here," she admitted. "The doctor is taking longer than expected. Why don't I see if I can just go get you something for the pain? Is there anyone I can call for you? Do you have family?"
"A brother," Sam said in response.
"Can you give me his number?"
"No, he's…sick," Sam hesitated. "But he's going to get better," Sam asserted. "He's tough."
The nurse stopped and looked at him sadly before she rushed off.
As far as Sam was concerned, Dean was sick. He wasn't in his right mind. Finding out Dean was a demon had been easy or well, not that easy if his shoulder was any indication. He recalled with terror the moment he returned to Dean's room to find him gone. Bodies didn't just disappear, or more importantly brothers didn't just vanish completely.
How could this happen? Just before that he had cleansed his brother's wounds, tenderly laying him in his bed as if it were his tomb. Then he had torn the bunker apart, flinging books and flipping tables because the emotion he felt was just too overpowering that he had to do something to release it, even if it meant being destructive. That's when he had first injured his shoulder, perhaps even before that. He had carried Dean away from his murder scene, the unbearable encumbrance of the deadweight of his brother and the excruciating burden of loss and grief rested squarely on his shoulders, flooding his insides like a tsunami. He had a twinge in his arm then, but all the furniture strewn around him like a hurricane had struck the bunker was what did him in.
He relished the pain that spread through his arm and body then because it took his mind off the mental anguish. However, nothing could have prepared him for when he returned to keep vigil by his dead brother's side, only to find he wasn't there. He knew instinctively something terrible had happened to Dean and he was going to find him this time. This wasn't going to be like when Dean had vanished right in front of him before, when he had fallen to pieces so quickly, let fear blind him so much that he couldn't bring Dean home because he knew deep down he'd fail him again, end up unknowingly causing the end of the world just like before.
The nurse returned with a syringe full of medicine and Sam debated whether he should let her give it to him.
"Is it strong?" He asked.
"Honey, based on how pale you are, I think you need strong," she said, with a chuckle.
"Then I don't want it," Sam said, shaking his head. The movement caused the pain to flare in his arm, and he squeezed back tears from his eyes.
"Why on Earth would you say that?" She asked, puzzled.
"Please, just forget it," Sam replied, his eyes still clenched shut as he made snorting sounds through his nose to control the pain.
She left him then and Sam was grateful. He needed his mind clear. He didn't want to be here anyway, had seriously debated coming to the hospital at all. However, he knew he needed his arm working if he was going to be able to save Dean. He finally knew where to find his brother and the faster he got to him the better.
Dean had left a note. It read: Just let me go Sammy. Deep down though, Sam doubted that Dean was the one who had written it. It was a clever forgery and the handwriting did look suspiciously like Dean's but there was still something off about it. There was something lacking, a certain spark, much like how he saw Dean with the mark of Cain. Dean looked like Dean but his vitality, so much of what made Dean his big brother was gone.
Sam knew that if Dean didn't write the note, then someone else had.
Crowley.
The mere thought of his name made Sam seethe with rage. His anger was enough to distract him from the piercing pain that ripped through his shoulder.
"Here you go," the nurse said, returning. She had a new syringe with her. "I doubt this will even put a dent in the kind of pain you must be in but it's the mildest painkiller we have," She finished, plunging the syringe into Sam's vein.
Sam sat stalwart on the gurney, clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"Would you like a blanket? You look chilled."
Sam shook his head no. She looked stricken and he wasn't purposely trying to be dismissive of her but he didn't deserve special treatment, definitely not after what he'd done in the name of finding his brother. Would Dean still say "I'm proud of us" when he found him? He doubted that very much as he felt the remorse just as tangibly as the pain in his arm. However, at the moment, there was no time to get lost in the past. He had to focus on the task at hand which was getting Dean back.
He watched the nurse, Melanie, retreat, apparently sensing he didn't want to talk. He had read her nametag so at least maybe he could address her accordingly. She had kind eyes, and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she felt sorry for him. Here he was a mess of scabs and bruises in various shades of color. Her eyes were definitely different than the ones staring back at him from the mirror above the sink from across the room, also inherently different than the two black orbs that replaced the green eyes that he knew so well that Dean now flashed. He recalled the first time he had seen Dean's eyes go black and it was as if it wasn't his brother at all. He had almost lost his bearings.
Once Dean had disappeared, Sam had made it his quest to find Crowley, one demon at a time. He wasn't malicious at first but with each passing week, he'd grown less "sensitive." He refused to believe the first demon that caved and revealed that Dean was a demon. No, his brother couldn't be that. However, as time went on, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place revealing a disturbing image. He scoured the internet finding reports of murdered humans and hunters, demonic signs covering the area. That's when deep down he knew, yet didn't dare to admit it.
He had donned his FBI uniform and went to investigate, following his brother's trail, interviewing witnesses who described Dean perfectly. He found himself cleaning up crime scenes, "accidentally" losing evidence, wiping fingerprints, anything to protect his brother. He knew his brother's hands were dirty, but no more filthy than his own.
The last demon he interrogated was when he had hit paydirt or when he'd gone off the rails, depending on which way you saw it. That was how he had injured his shoulder again.
He'd pinned the guy down in an alley. He was wearing the meatsuit of a middle aged small business owner who supported a family of six as he kindly reminded Sam, also a chance to gain leverage.
He almost got him in a devil's trap when he got the drop on him, punching Sam several times landing blow after blow, in his face and his ribs. Sam's reflexes were not so swift, considering his shoulder was still not one hundred percent but the demon took advantage of this, twisting Sam's arm behind his back so hard that Sam had felt the pop. His injured shoulder had finally went out completely. Then the demon had wrapped his arm around Sam's throat, almost cutting off his breathing but Sam had stomped on his foot, whipped around and elbowed him in the mouth with his good arm, finally overpowering him and placing the bunker's cuffs on him, the ones Crowley once wore. He did some quick triage on himself and managed to get his shoulder back in place. He ignored the pain and then carted the demon off to an abandoned warehouse so he could interrogate him properly. He was never the type to enjoy torture. Even when it was necessary for the job, it still repulsed him on some level. However, the way the demon spat at him sent him teetering right over the edge.
"How's it feel that your brother is now one of us?" The demon said with a snide laugh. "You humans with your holier than thou attitudes aren't immune are you? Bet it keeps you up at night that you couldn't stop it. Huh?"
That's when he had plunged the knife soaked in holy water in the demon's leg and he screamed. Sam didn't flinch.
"Hitting a little too close to home, am I?" He asked. "So much potential lost. Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood, our leader. Look at him now."
"Where is my brother?" Sam barked.
"Shouldn't you know? Aren't you your brother's keeper?"
Sam slashed him until blood dripped down the handcuffs. He didn't even hear the screams anymore. Normally this was when he'd send the demon packing and send an anonymous tip to get the host some help. However, Sam knew that this one had intel on Crowley. The demon he had tortured before this one had let him know. That's how his quest had been, an endless game of telephone where he gleaned bits of information from each demon, each tidbit made him one step closer to finding his brother.
"He spent so much time wiping your snot nose, preventing you from becoming one of us and this is how you return the favor?" The demon continued, as he spit blood. "You let him be turned and this is how you think you can make it right?" The demon asked, continuing relentlessly. "Bet he saw this whole situation in reverse. You the demon, and him coming to your rescue."
"Where is Dean?" Sam yelled.
"He's dead to you."
Sam then went nuclear, punching the demon over and over until his knuckles bled.
"Tell me what you know," Sam said finally, holding the demon blade to his throat.
"Crowley," the demon whispered, finally giving up. "Phoenix. Their last location was a motel on the outskirts of town."
Sam had what he needed and was about to read the exorcism spell.
"Guy has a bad ticker," the demon hissed through bloody teeth. "He wasn't doing so hot by the time you found me. Now after this, it's over. Once I'm gone so is he."
Sam hesitated for a moment, but he knew he couldn't just let the demon get away. He read the Latin and watched as the black cloud of demon smoke flew up into the air above his head. The host fell to the ground lifelessly. Sam stared at the man's body, knowing that calling for help this time was useless. He saw him then, really saw him. A human being. The man was dead. He thought of his six children, how he'd be missing like Dean was, how underneath those black eyes was a living breathing human being, just like Dean was. Then he made the anonymous tip. There was no need to let his loved ones not know what had happened. The not knowing was the worst part. He knew that implicitly.
Why does everything have to be so damn hard? He wondered. He wanted to save Dean more than anything but the stakes and the price were always so damn high. How did saving people equate to so many lives lost?
Sam had managed to track Crowley and Dean to Phoenix but someone else had done the same thing. He was a hunter named Jackson and Dean had killed his brother.
He recalled the moment in the barroom when he saw Dean from across the room. He knew Dean saw him too and he gave him a trademark smirk He had locked eyes with Dean's and looked into the cold, shadowy abyss. Everything went black. The walls around him vanished and he was bathed in darkness. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before and it took every fiber of his being to snap himself out of it. That was when Sam truly knew and accepted that Dean was a demon even though a part of him still wanted to stay in denial.
He saw Jackson then following Dean around. Sam could tell he was new to the game by his obvious stalking of his prey. He knew in all likelihood that the guy was going to get himself killed. However, there was no reasoning with him. This guy was hellbent on revenge, blinded by it. Sam knew that motivation all too well. Kid was smart though and had drawn a devil's trap, clearly having done his research. He also was armed with holy water. Sam saw Crowley abandon Dean then, obviously loyalty not one of his strongsuits. Dean was pinned where he stood as Jackson threw the holy water at his brother.
"Stop!" Sam screamed as he saw Dean's skin sizzle and burn. He couldn't bear to watch his brother be hurt like that.
Dean laughed hollowly over the whole situation and Sam couldn't get past how Dean's contagious chuckle was now gone too.
"Stand down!" Sam yelled again while Jackson looked at him like he was nuts.
"This thing killed my brother! Bastard slit his throat like it meant nothing."
"You don't understand," Sam said. "It's not what you think."
"What I think is he's a demon and it's time to kill him," Jackson raised a rifle.
Sam wondered why Jackson thought that would be effective and if maybe he'd been watching episodes of The Walking Dead in between his research on devil's traps. However, Sam felt something deeper, as if he was straddling two sides of the road. Deep down he knew how Jackson felt, to have his brother stolen from him. Yet, Dean was his brother and he couldn't have Jackson take him out. Sam had no clue what a rifle shot would do to his brother's body but he wasn't taking the chance.
"Look, Dean is not himself right now. He's my brother."
"That thing is your brother?" Jackson asked incredulously. "So you're a monster too."
Sam felt the sting of the words, realizing they weren't too far off from the truth. It was his fault that the demon possessed family man was dead.
Jackson looked away from Sam then and continued to point the gun at Dean, his finger on the trigger.
Sam could tell no matter what he said, Jackson was going to take his shot so then Sam had did the unthinkable, the opposite of everything he was trained to do. He broke the devil's trap. Jackson also jumped him at the moment, taking the rifle butt and striking him across the face. He saw Dean glance back at him out of the corner of his eye, and he longed to see signs of gratitude from Dean, his protective instincts kick in, any inkling that his brother was still there, but he just took off running without a second glance.
Again, Sam was a lot weaker then he once was and his mind was occupied. Usually he'd have the guy pinned down in a second but his stupid shoulder screwed him again. He managed to disarm him though, even as he tasted blood from his cut lip. However, Jackson once again regained the upper hand. He put on brass knuckles and punched him several times, splitting his cheek and eyebrow. Sam felt blood dripping down his face, into his eyes, blinding him. Then Jackson grabbed his shoulder, wrenching it so hard that this time Sam knew the damage was irrevocable. Sam felt the anger swirl inside him like a typhoon because he knew he was going to be frigging useless if he was hurt like this. Then Jackson pulled out a pistol that he had strapped to his ankle and put it to his head. Sam acted swiftly using this to his advantage and thrusting his body against Jackson's arm, knocking the gun out of his hand. The weapon skittered away across the ground. Regaining his footing and relying only on his functioning arm, Sam landed blow after blow on Jackson. He punched him one last time, hitting him so hard that he launched backward and his head bounced off the concrete. The resounding thud was what finally brought him to his senses.
What have I done? Sam thought, horrified. He looked down at Jackson's lax features. He couldn't be more than 25 years old, Sam realized. He was just a kid, looking out for his brother and he'd killed him.
Sam bent down, clutching his injured arm and felt for a pulse, relieved when he found one.
"Hey man, you okay?" Sam asked, tremulously, giving his arm a shake. However, Jackson just laid there, a small pool of blood forming under his head. Sam was shaking like a ship in a storm that lost its mooring but he managed to pull out his cellphone and dial 911. Again, his tip was anonymous. He waited there with Jackson until he heard the sirens drawing even closer and then he took off in a sprint.
He found an empty doorway and promptly threw up his stomach contents which weren't much considering he'd barely been eating.
He couldn't believe he'd let himself snap like that on an innocent human being. He'd never killed a human, at least not when he wasn't under any supernatural influence and he was pretty sure that Jackson was going to die with the way he'd knocked his brain around in his skull. He felt the pain in his arm then and knew it was dislocated for a second time. He smashed it into the brick wall in front of him to get it back into place. It took several tries and he bit down into his lip so hard that blood dribbled down his chin. He finally felt like he had it in place but he knew he'd heard a snap somewhere and then the pain crippled him, sending him to his knees.
He let the tears flow then, not knowing if they were for himself, for Dean, or for Jackson. Everything was so hopeless it seemed. Dean had barely acknowledged him. That had never happened once in his lifetime that he could remember. Dean always acknowledged him even if it was words of anger. He'd take pissed off Dean any day over dismissive Dean.
He just stayed there, practically a crumpled heap when suddenly his phone rang and he saw Dean's name on the screen giving him a sudden burst of hope.
"Hello Moose."
"Crowley?" Sam growled.
"Yes, none other. I expect your brother left you lying there bleeding, did he not?"
"No," Sam said, angrily. "He got away."
"Well either way, I expect you're a sobbing mess. Anyway, I need a favor."
"What?" Sam asked in disbelief.
"I give you Dean's location and you find him and change him back. Then you can share a hug, a brotherly moment, continue with your codependency issues, whatever you want to do."
Sam seethed but didn't answer.
"Caught your attention eh?" Crowley responded.
"Why would you do that? Isn't that you doing me a favor?" Sam asked, logically.
"You say potato. I say po-tah-to. Doesn't matter how you put it. Why wouldn't I do it? Don't you think I'm Team Winchester? Sam and Dean all the way?"
"Not a chance," Sam scoffed.
"Caught me there but you're brother needs to be stopped. He's out of control. It's either the mark or being bad just feels so damn good to him. If I'm to cut to the chase, I don't need the competition."
"Competition?" Sam almost laughed. Was Crowley seriously telling him that he couldn't handle his brother?
"Yes. I thought we were comrades after he got rid of Abbadon but seems he thinks he can now unseat me from my throne. Dean is gaining more followers than Justin Beiber. Now I have you out there cutting away at my followers who keep folding like cheap lawn chairs."
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack. So will you do me a solid?"
"I was going after him anyway and I then I am coming after you."
"Aww Moose, you promise?" Crowley laughed. "You know, your brother promised the same thing about you, that he was going to find you eventually and kill you. I actually did you a favor with that note I left so you owe me."
"Dean would never say that," Sam asserted, gritting his teeth.
"Oh believe me. He did and you're lucky I gave you the abridged version. As soon as he found out you were looking for him, he got shall we say, a bit graphic? You know we've shared a lot, your brother and I? We are practically brothers now ourselves."
Sam couldn't describe the way his throat constricted or his stomach spasmed but he kept himself in check.
"How do I know that I can trust you?"
"Because he's got the fever and I gots the cure," Crowley sing songed, 'Thought you were the only one who could cure a demon did you?"
"What are you talking about? I will cure him," Sam vowed.
"Did you ever stop to think that the mark might cause a bit of a problem? It's what turned him in the first place. You might be gigantor but I guess the brain is not. What do you think feeds the demon in Dean? As long as he wears the mark, he will remain a demon."
"I'm listening," Sam said, even though he wanted nothing more than to hang up, find Crowley and make him eat his words.
"Abel," Crowley said simply. "You need to talk to Abel. You and Dean are the ying and yang of each other and you can't have Cain without Abel. Find Abel and I'll tell you where you can find Dean."
"Just like that?" Sam questioned. "Sounds too easy Crowley."
"Well for now it is. You're it, but you promise me that 50 second head start. Oh and the curing your brother part too but as you said, that was in the cards anyway. I also can't promise that Abel will do business with you, the feisty fellow but what do you say, Moose? Deal?"
"How do I find Abel?"
"Do you think I'm that charitable?" Crowley chuckled. "So tell me deal or no deal?"
"Deal," Sam said, the words slipping out of his mouth a little easier than he liked. There was a click on the line and Sam felt the pain from his shoulder roll over him in waves. He also felt the guilt overpowering him again that he was agreeing to let Crowley go. Then he heard his phone sound and saw the text with Dean's whereabouts. He was on his way to take out some demons he saw as threats to his potential sovereignty. Sam knew Dean would also take out any hunters or bystanders that happened to be in his way. Sam saw he was going to Kansas, so close to home, yet he was so far away.
Sam rushed back to the bunker, driving one handed no easy feat. Once he returned, he hastily cleaned himself up and began pulling tomes off the shelf, reading until his eyes stung so much from strain, it was as if boric acid had been poured into them. He rubbed at them absentmindedly, so hopped up on adrenaline that closing his eyes in sleep seemed impossible.
His arm still dangled uselessly from his shoulder and pulling out volume after volume one handed was extremely challenging but he kept going. He realized he wasn't getting anywhere with the offering on the shelves so he started to comb through the piles of books on the floor. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but his frustration began mounting like the pile of books surrounding him. He was knee deep in books, throwing them around the room in dismay.
Finally he found something, just a tiny passage in a dusty book.
In one of the texts, there was a small picture of a lamb and underneath in Latin, it read:
Once brother's keeper a promise spoken,
Two brothers side by side,
Now brother's slayer, a promise broken
Tears of blood the sky has cried
Now one will forever lack
As evil has rendered its toll
Two brothers back to back
Only a sacrifice to make him whole
It didn't mention Abel but this had to be it. Brother's keeper. It all made sense. There was a symbol drawn there that resembled two people standing side by side but somehow, if turned at a certain angle, also looked like they were back to back, a paradox of an image. This had to be a spell to summon Abel, the Abel of biblical lore.
Sam read the words several times from the book but there were no instructions on how to make Abel actually appear, no ingredients to gather, nothing. Sam read the Latin until he was hoarse and he felt something warm streaking down his face. He was crying and he hadn't even realized it. The sense of failure again burned within him like a small inferno gathering strength. All he could imagine was Crowley mocking him for being so gullible, for actually thinking he could summon Abel.
He pulled the object out of his pocket and clutched it in his hand, his center. It was the one thing that made him feel like Dean was really there. He squeezed it so hard that his fingers bled. His blood and tears mixed together and spilled on to the book as he read the Latin again.
Suddenly the room began to shake and Sam trembled in alarm. What was happening?
Then suddenly there was a faint flicker as someone appeared before him.
It was a man, dressed in what looked like rags, and he was accompanied by a sheep. Sam almost did a double take when he saw it.
"Abe…Abel?" Sam stuttered. He clutched the knife, ready to strike.
"You called me." He said, in a timid, frightened voice.
This didn't seem at all right to Sam. Didn't Dean say that Abel was actually the bad guy? That everything he knew about the Bible was a lie and the little brother was really making mistakes but big brother had taken the fall? It seemed all too familiar and it made him feel again the intensity of the enormous burden he already felt like.
"I'm Sam," he said simply.
"Winchester," Abel said.
"Wait, how did you know that?"
"You are my descendent. Prophets spoke of your birth and how one day, both brothers would end the world but also save it. One brother would allow evil to corrupt him, but the other would lay down his life for him."
Sam stood there. Yes, most of it had come to pass but they'd made their own destiny too hadn't they? Yet he felt he never had truly escaped his own dark destiny. He'd allowed evil to corrupt him, even now he was unclean, and Dean had laid down his life for him, more than once.
"Like you and Cain? He sacrificed himself for you," Sam said, accusingly.
"No you must understand. It is not as you think. It is true. I made a mistake and allowed myself to be deceived by the dark one but then I realized I was wrong. When I learned of what my brother was going to do, I was going to stop him."
"Well why is your brother the one who is a demon then while you were sitting pretty in heaven?"
"I am not in heaven. I was but now heaven is in disarray. I am not sure how I am even able to appear to you."
"How did you get here?"
"I think it's because you called for me. I sensed my brethren's blood being shed and I am here. You must listen to me."
"I don't believe you. It's because of you that my brother is now a demon too."
"Please, I implore you," Abel begged. "When I discovered my brother's plan to sacrifice and damn himself to hell, I found out how to erase the mark. However he would not listen to me. He used the blade and slaughtered me before I could speak. He too had been corrupted by the mark and the blade. I can help you"
Sam listened stonefaced until he found himself considering Abel's story. It seemed plausible. Sam saw firsthand how powerful the mark was and how it could lead someone as strong as his brother astray. He also knew what it was like to make a mistake and be lured to the other side.
"I'm listening."
"There is an Enochian symbol that when etched will erase the mark. However, it has to be drawn in blood using a powerful symbol of love and sacrifice."
"What is it?" Sam said, suddenly impatient, wanting all the information he could have.
"It's personal to you. I was not even sure what I would use as I never got the chance to draw the mark."
Suddenly a warm peace filled Sam's heart because, unlike Abel, he knew just what he would use. He'd been clutching just a moment ago, and just as he always did, so hard sometimes that his fingers bled and already bore marks from it.
"I must warn you Sam Winchester that there is grave danger in this task. Are you still willing to accept it?"
"Yes," Sam said, without hesitation. There wasn't even a question.
Abel began to flicker in and out and Sam knew his time was short. He pointed in the book that Sam had used in the spell to the symbol as the one Sam had to draw. He only hoped it be enough for him to get it accurately as Abel flickered away.
"I must warn you that prophets foretold of one brother losing his life for the other," Abel said, before he vanished.
Well, we're Winchesters. We do things our way. Sam thought, resolutely.
Sam stood there in shock. The whole thing was completely surreal. He'd met Abel but was he telling him the truth? Who was the liar? Dean had never mentioned Abel trying to stop Cain. Perhaps Cain had conveniently left that part out. It seemed deception found its way in everywhere. He didn't know for sure, but he knew things weren't always clearcut, especially when it came to brothers.
He gritted his teeth as the pain in his shoulder became more apparent. He had to call Cas, let him know what was going on that he could now save Dean.
Cas answered on the first ring.
"Sam, are you okay?" He asked.
"Yes. No, well yes. Better than I've been in awhile," Sam said, fumbling for words. "I am going to get Dean. I know how to remove the mark."
"Sam, we've discussed this. That thing masquerading with Dean's face isn't your brother anymore. He's a demon."
"But he's still my brother," Sam shot back. He knew Cas was weak and damaged but he couldn't take this.
"He will kill you Sam."
"No, my brother would never hurt me," Sam said, sincerely and he hung up the phone. He'd planned to do it alone anyway. He knew Cas would be more a hindrance than a help.
That's how he had found himself at the emergency room because he needed to be functional and he needed a working arm to draw the symbol. He was right handed and if he messed it up at all, then it might not work. He had laid his head back down on the gurney and let himself drift a little. The nurse was right about the medication. It did absolutely nothing to take the edge off his pain but instead now he felt consciousness eluding him due to the intense pain. He saw Dean's eyes again when he closed his own and felt himself being consumed by the darkness. He tried to fight it but it swallowed him up.
TBC
Please take a moment to drop a note if you enjoyed or even if you have constructive criticism. I appreciate it so much when people take the time to write. Also, I hope you'll be back for chapter 2 :)