Special thanks: to Pie Love Luci for your kind words and review.
Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and lots of self-angst in this chapter.
CHAPTER TWO
Dean gasped in horror, terror gripping his heart as he saw Sam, a look of sad acceptance upon his face as he held a loaded gun in in his hands, considering ending it all by putting the gun to his head and pulling the trigger, self-sacrificing himself, knowing that this was the only way he could ever truly save his big brother, while Bobby stood there, encouraging him to do it.
No!
Dean violently shook his head to rid himself of that disturbing memory because surely Sam knew that killing himself was never an option. That wasn't what Dean wanted. And it sure as hell wasn't something Bobby would ever encourage Sam to do.
Dean gritted his teeth together in both anger and fear as he saw himself stuck, unable to get to where ever Sam was, unable to help Sam – because, damn it, his baby brother was in the worst kind of trouble – unable to kick his damn ass for even considering doing this God awful thing and leaving Dean all alone in the world; the last remaining Winchester alive.
And Dean … he didn't deserve it. He didn't want to live if Sam was no longer with him, beside him, fighting the good fight. What was the point in carrying on if he had nothing left to live for? If Sam died here, whether by his own hand or not, Dean knew that he would follow his brother shortly after. His life was meaningless without his brother.
No! This wasn't happening!
Dean swallowed hard, a memory of Sam convulsing, his body growing colder by the second as scattered memories of a time that never was invaded his consciousness, as he pleaded for Sam to stop it, to come back before it was too late, pleading to anyone who would listen for help, while Dean could do nothing but watch Sammy die. Because, that's exactly what was happening here; Sam was dying, right before Dean's eyes and there wasn't a God damn thing he could do about it.
No!
There was no way in hell Dean was allowing that to happen on his watch!
Dean growled under his breath, not liking the helpless, hopeless feeling that swept over him at the images that flooded through his mind.
He saw Sam, standing over a table, a spell book open, ingredients everywhere, bleeding heavily from his left arm – oh, that explained the blood in the kitchen, leading to … what looked to be the library, in this particular memory – desperately explaining to Dean that he could fix it. He could fix everything. Dean would be proud of him this time round and all Sam had to do to achieve it was to cast this spell, which would change one thing about his life and then Sam would never be led down the dark path, his destiny that yellow-eyes had predicted and primed Sam for ever since he'd turned six months old; and Sam would never betray his brother with a demon …
Oh God Sammy, no. What are you doing? Why would you even think this is what I wanted?
Dean could see the book open now, at the spell his younger brother had been determined to perform, even as it was already too late to prevent it because his stupidly, drunken brother had already performed the spell, and Dean could see that it wasn't a spell book at all … it was a damn curse book.
Holy crap Sammy, what have you done? What did you do? How do I save you? How do I get you out of there, get you back to where you belong?
Tears gathered within the corners of Dean's eyes, blinking furiously to clear his vision and not give into his emotions just yet. If this is what had indeed happened … then where the hell was his brother right now?
Dean scanned the kitchen area, searching for his younger brother in amongst the destruction, but there was no sign of him what so ever. Damn it, where the hell was he?
Dean opened his mouth to call out for his brother, when another memory surfaced of a vaguely familiar figure standing there, before the two brothers in some kind of weirdo world. Was that … Dad?!
Dad in cahoots with Gabriel? All of this had been some kind of elaborate hoax in order to bring the siblings closer together? But, how the hell did Dad and Gabriel even get there? And how the hell was the ex-trickster-archangel even still alive? Dean could vividly recall that sneaky trickster dying at the hands of his brother, Lucifer.
Dean closed his eyes, overwhelmed by all of these jumbled thoughts, images and confusing emotions that coursed through him, his heart pounding loudly in his own eyes, his thoughts narrowing and pinpointing down to one objective, one mission.
Sammy had been in some kind of trouble. Dean could feel it, his big brother instincts screaming out for him to find Sam; to save Sam before it was too late.
Whatever else had happened, whether Gabriel was alive, whether their Dad had been involved somehow, Dean didn't care. All he really cared about was finding his brother.
Dean's eyes flew open at the sound of a low, pained groan, instantly realizing that during his flash back memories, Dean had purposely walked into the library, almost seeking his younger brother out on a subconscious level, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the sound he had heard.
"Sammy," Dean breathed out in relief, his anxiousness easing when he caught sight of his lanky younger brother sprawled out on the library floor.
Whatever had happened, it didn't matter now because Sam was back, he was alive and he was safe.
"Hang on Sammy, I'm coming," Dean replied in response to another one of Sam's moans as Dean carefully made his way over to his brother.
Dean couldn't help but gasp, his approach halted when he noticed an upturned bowl and what appeared to be ingredients scattered upon the floor, some of the ingredients even making their way upon his baby brother's face and hair.
"Shit Sam, you really did do a spell-curse." Dean said, a note of awe and horror tinging his voice.
Dean shook his head to focus on the here and now. He would have plenty of time later to figure out what had happened once he knew for sure that his little brother was safe and free from imminent danger.
Dean ran a calm, calculating eye over his brother's body, crouching down before him on one knee, immediately noticing the dried pool of blood beneath Sam's head.
Dean quickly ran probing but gentle fingers up and down the back of his brother's head, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that the head wound wasn't as bad as he thought and it had long since stopped bleeding.
Good. At least Dean didn't have to worry about his little brother's gigantic brain leaking out of his head. The only real concern would be concussion. And it wasn't as if either Winchester sibling had never been concussed before. With the sort of work they did, getting a concussion was almost a work place guarantee. Although both brothers treated head wounds seriously. And if their symptoms worsened, there was no mucking around, they would immediately visit an ER.
"Sorry Sammy," Dean soothed the younger man when he moaned at Dean's gentle probing.
The next thing Dean noticed was his brother's left arm covered in a rough, quick bandage job, seeing signs of a little seepage slipping through the bandage. Swiftly, Dean unwound the bandage from Sam's arm with practiced ease and couldn't help but wince at the large, jagged cut to his brother's arm.
"Wow, that's deep. Looks like you're going to need some stitches for this mess Sammy." Dean let out a little, fond sigh of exasperation, relieved that this was the worst physical injury that Sam had suffered. After the nightmare visions that had invaded his mind, Dean had expected worse. Much worse.
Dean stood to his feet and quickly retrieved a first aid kit from the second drawer of the main desk.
Past experience had taught Dean to have a mini first aid kit in all of the main rooms – the kitchen, the conference room, the library, their bedrooms, hell, he even had one stashed in the dungeon – at the Bunker because that saved a lot of wasted time having to run to the location of the main first aid kit and back again.
Honestly, this Bunker was like a damn maze; and when you were running against the clock, trying to get to the first aid kit in order to patch up your kid brother … that was a lot of wasted time and energy. So, Dean had decided to place a mini first aid kit in each of the main rooms to avoid all of the wasted time.
Dean had never been more grateful he had done that, than he was right now; because within thirty seconds, Dean was back by his little brother's side already pulling out the medical equipment he would need in order to stitch up Sam's arm.
"Okay little brother, deep breath, this is gonna sting like a bitch." Dean warned his sibling before he quickly cleaned out the wound with the stinging antiseptic that his brother always bitched about.
Sam hissed sharply, his body's automatic response was to pull his arm away from the burning, stinging pain.
"Easy Sammy," Dean soothed, holding his brother's arm in a firm, but gentle hold, instinctively rubbing Sam's shoulder in an effort to reassure his unconscious brother.
"Hmm … you're not cold anymore." Dean muttered under his breath, fear beginning to prick at the corner of his mind as he vividly recalled his brother being so cold that Dean had to check for breathing and Sam's rising chest in order to assure himself that Sam was still alive.
"Guess you're gonna have one hell of a story to tell me when you wake up kiddo." Dean chuckled dryly, shaking his head at how drunk his little brother had been. "If you can even remember anything that happened, that is." Dean amended.
Knowing his brother as well as he did, Dean knew that Sam's memories would likely have lots of holes. There was no doubt that Sam had had black outs because of how drunk he had been. Poor Sam was going to have one hell of a hangover when he woke up.
Dean had just finished applying a clean bandage to Sam's arm after stitching him back together again and was in the process of returning the first aid kit in the desk drawer, when some "Sammy-sense" that resided deeply within Dean, alerted Dean to the fact that Sam was beginning to return to a conscious state.
Hurriedly, Dean stowed away the first aid kit and raced back to his brother's side, anxiously waiting for Sam to open his big, puppy-dog eyes. Dean wouldn't be able to get a true sense of how his brother's well-being was until he looked into Sam's eyes.
Sam had always been a sensitive kid and he'd always had a harder time locking away his emotions like his father and older brother were able to do. Even when Sam was trying to lie to Dean, he was never able to pull it off completely because the lie was reflected within those big, deep hazel orbs. And Dean had been able to use that to his own advantage for years.
He had become a master of all things Sammy-related, including reading those expressive eyes which would clue Dean into if Sam was hurt, the level of pain he was in, if he was lying, scared, happy or sad, frustrated or mad, slightly irritated or fully pissed off, feeling guilt or remorse … whatever emotion Sam was feeling, Dean would be able to read it within his little brother's eyes.
Dean couldn't help the twitch of his lips when he noticed Sam screwing his eyes closed more tightly, swallowing convulsively, his right hand placed over his mouth, Dean automatically knowing that Sam was fighting his body's instincts to be sick.
"Breathe through it Sammy, you're fine." Dean encouraged, rubbing a soothing hand upon his brother's chest, knowing that Sam wasn't with it enough to feel Dean's reassuring touch, but hoping, on an unconscious level, Sam would be able to recognize the familiar touch and know that Dean was trying to soothe his uneasiness.
DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW SW DW
Sam was frantic. He was anxious, scared … terrified at this new predicament that he found himself in; blinded and his arms held in place at his sides. He couldn't get free, no matter how hard he tried.
But he tried to curb the panic that wanted to consume him, knowing that panic wouldn't do him any good right now. He needed to calm down and focus. He needed to be clear headed and keep a certain amount of rational, logical thinking if he was going to get himself out of this unfortunate situation that he now found himself in.
Sam took a stuttering breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the feel of the hands that held his arms down, trying to ignore the feeling of helplessness that invaded him at being unable to free himself from a threat that Sam couldn't identify because he couldn't see.
If only Sam could see what was going on, then he wouldn't feel so … vulnerable, like a scared and needy child, although Sam worked damn hard not to show those emotions to his unknown, unseen attacker.
Sam was still a Winchester. And no matter what sort of situation you found yourself in, Winchester's never let the bad guys see how scared, worried or vulnerable you felt … especially when the bad guys were planning your untimely death.
Sam took another deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and think logically. Okay, so it was obvious that Dean wasn't here. And even though that thought caused Sam's anxiety levels to increase – because who knew what the hell was happening to his brother?! – it also caused Sam to feel cautiously optimistic.
Because if Dean wasn't stuck in here with him, it wouldn't be too long before Dean came and rescued him from whatever the hell this was. Of that, Sam was one hundred percent certain. No matter what problems the siblings were going through, Sam knew that Dean would drop everything and come for him if Sam were in trouble.
That thought relaxed Sam even more. That was the one and only truth Sam had in this God awful world that had continually tried to push the younger Winchester down, making him doubt himself when he had done another stupid thing all because he had thought his way was the best way; trying to break Sam, causing him to feel guilt, shame and remorse because of his actions and how they had hurt the one and only person who had ever meant anything to Sam; the one and only person who had ever given a damn about him and his constant, epic screw ups.
The one truthy that Sam had always counted on and relied upon was the fact that his big brother would always come for him … no matter what, even if he didn't deserve that loyalty from the big brother who had never let him down.
Sometimes Sam wondered why the hell Dean even kept him around. You would think that after all of this time, with the amount of mistakes Sam had made that had caused his older brother nothing but grief and heart ache, that Dean would have had enough of Sam by now.
Dean should have left Sam's sorry ass behind years ago. After he had returned from Hell soulless, Dean should have just killed him and moved on with his life. Because ever since then Sam had continued on his own path of self-destruction; knowing, believing that what he was doing was right and justified, but all he had really succeeded in doing was hurting his big brother all over again.
Is that why Dean had decided to kill him? Before the Mark of Cain was removed, had Dean finally had enough of Sam's constant lying, his constantly betraying Dean's trust and faith in him, his constant screw ups even though Sam's intentions had been nothing but pure at the time? Had Dean finally had enough of having to clean up Sam's messes, of having to listen to Sam's constant apologies about how he had never meant for it to turn out this way?
Had Dean finally figured out that Sam Winchester was cursed, causing all of their good friends to die because everything that Sam touched and everyone he tried to help, it only ended one way: Sam being piled with more guilt, remorse and regrets and Dean drowning in anguish, hurt and resentment; realizing that once again, Dean had been betrayed by the little brother he had given up his life for?
Disgust began to fill Sam now. Not only had Sam released the Darkness – even though he had only been trying to save his brother's life – but he had also managed to get captured by some unknown enemy and Dean would be forced to save him … yet again.
God, sometimes Sam was so pathetic it made him feel physically ill. Why the hell would Dean bother with someone like him when Dean could do a lot better by himself?
"I'm gonna fix it Dean." Sam could hear himself saying in a drunkenly, pleading way. "… you'll be proud of me this time round, I promise."
Sam blinked, suddenly confused, a strange sense of impending doom settling over him as more phrases and words came to mind.
"… All I have to do is change one thing, just one … and all of this … the Darkness, another evil that I set upon the Earth … again … will be gone.
I promise Dean, I'll make it so you will be proud of me … where you wouldn't have to choose an angel, a demon or a vampire over me because you don't trust me no more or you're ashamed of me."
"Sammy … I'm not ashamed of you. Nor have you disappointed me. The Darkness … we can beat her together man, you're not the only one to blame here." Dean's voice; so calm, controlled and understanding; so patient, even in the face of Sam's drunkenness.
"Why don't you tell me exactly what the spell does little bro?" Dean asked, his voice low, soft and soothing.
"One thing Dean … I can't change how we grew up in the life or Dad's obsession to find the demon … maybe I can change somethin' bout me … be like you De'n. Embrace hunting, embrace the life. No fight with Dad, no leave for Stanford; stay with you Dee … make you proud …"
"… what if you make it worse instead of better? … not going to Stanford … that would kill you Sammy. You were always going to Stanford dude, no matter what."
"No! I hav'ta do this De'n. I hav'ta try." Sam's voice, slurred, desperately pleading for his older brother to trust him. "… I need to fix it man. Please Dee, let me fix this!"
"… Sammy, you're drunk and not thinking clearly … come on Sammy, please. Just one night to think things over, that's all I'm asking for bro."
The voices from his mind vanished. And, in an instant, Sam knew that his biggest fears were suddenly realized because these weren't some randomly placed words and phrases. No, Sam knew this was what he had said to his brother in his drunken state.
And just like Sam had feared, his guilt, resentment and self-hatred had turned inward, causing Sam to drown within his own emotions. How many times in the past had Sam wished that he could just fix things between Dean and himself when the fighting between them had gotten so bad that Dean couldn't even stand to look at Sam anymore?
How many times had Sam wished he could wave a magic wand and make it all better so that Dean was no longer hurting and Sam could finally breathe a little easier? Sam had wished to do those things every time he made an epic mistake which had resulted in causing his big brother nothing but pain.
If only he could stop Dean from hurting, then Sam would gladly carry the weight of that burden himself. If only Dean would stop looking at him in that hurt, distrustful way, waiting for the next time Sam would screw up; then Sam would gladly walk away from his brother and leave Dean to live out his life in peace and harmony.
But now …
Sam had obviously found a way in order to make those wishes come true, like a spell of some kind.
Oh crap!
Sam had performed the spell. He had gone back to the past and changed something in his life in order to change his dark destiny and not betray his older brother with the damn traitorous demon bitch!
Except … if he had done the spell and had succeeded in changing the past, then why did he still have the same memories, the same guilt, the same regrets? Had it not worked or …
"Oh God Sammy, what are you doing? Stop this right now and just come home little brother. Please, before it's too late." Dean's horrified voice begged him and Sam could hear the desperation within his brother's tone, but Sam had refused to heed his brother's warning, knowing that he could make this better for his brother. He would succeed. And Dean would have the life and the little brother he deserved.
But, as usual, Sam had failed.
Pain began to ricochet within Sam's head as images began to invade Sam's mind of a life that he had tried to recreate; of a life where everything he did turned from bad to worse.
He hadn't gone to Stanford; John had become a drunk, blaming Sam for his mother's death, obsessed with trying to save Sam by beating the evil out of him; they had saved Jessica from the Demon, but she was in love with another woman, lost to Sam; Sam and Dean on their own because Dean had found out about John hurting Sam; Dean becoming bitter at their father, losing faith in the one man Dean had always idolized and admired; John, desperate to save Sam from the darkness that resided within his youngest, tried to kill him, but shooting Dean instead; Sam, filled with grief and rage, giving into the darkness, snapping his father's neck like a twig, using nothing but the power of his mind; Dean becoming scared of Sam, horrified by what his brother had done and finally … finally leaving Sam's ass behind because this Dean knew that Sam wasn't worth it, didn't deserve Dean's loyalty and love.
Sam gasped in horror, trying to deny these images, hoping they were nothing more than a drunken nightmare. But Sam knew better. He knew it was true. He knew he had been transported to another place, another time, he had found a way to fix things. But all he had succeeded in doing was hurting his brother and failing yet again.
Even when he was given a second chance to make it right, to do it right, he had obediently followed his dark destiny and given into the darkness within him.
Sam was evil.
That was the only explanation Sam could come up with. He had been tainted by Yellow-eyes and no matter what he did, he would always walk down that dark path because Sam Winchester was corrupted and cursed; beyond any help or redemption what so ever.
He had been doomed to fail even before his conception. As soon as Mary had made the deal with Yellow-eyes, that had sealed Sam Winchester's fate.
He was tainted. He was evil. He would do nothing but curse his big brother, causing him nothing but heart ache and grief. Maybe he should just blow his fucking brains out and end it all.
"You think I should kill myself Bobby?" Sam asked in a wooden, dead tone, caressing the gun in his hand as if it were a long-lost lover who could solve all of his problems.
"This is the right thing to do Sam," Bobby's soft voice encouraged Sam.
"Sammy, please don't to this …" Dean pleaded, his voice fill of pain. "… this is not what I want little brother. I don't want you dead. Please Sammy, fight!"
Sam swallowed hard. Ah, so this suicidal feeling and the thoughts of actually committing suicide because it was the only way he could truly free his brother, must be a side-effect of the spell.
It made sense in an odd kind of way, because for so long now Sam had wished for nothing other than his own death but also knowing that he didn't deserve the peacefulness of death.
After everything he had done, Sam knew that he wouldn't be dying any time soon; not after all of the mistakes he had made; not after he kept releasing evil beings from their cages, because he had to live with the knowledge of his mistakes, of what his actions had cause. He had to –
"Sammy, no! I have never regretted selling my soul for you. Nor have I ever wished you dead. I have never wanted that for you kiddo, not ever …
There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you … you are my little brother. I raised you and if you were to die … then I would quickly follow you … this world ain't worth living in if you're not in it. Do you understand me?
Let it go little brother … let the past stay in the past …" Dean's voice, strong with conviction and love. Had Dean really suggested that the past should stay in the past? Had Dean really forgiven Sam for everything he had done?
"You need to tell him Sam … I am willing to end this little charade and send you both back to your world, but you have to give me something in return. There are two secrets that you've withheld from Dean that you can tell Dean about …
You can tell Dean why you stopped looking for him when he was in Purgatory or you can share with him the phone message that you've kept for the last six years.
You need to come clean with Dean about one of these secrets within the next twenty-four hours or … I will create a world specifically for Dean … The other secret that you don't tell Dean about … will need to be revealed to Dean within the next six months …
If you try to renege on your deal or try to trap me or trick me … the repercussions will be disastrous for the both of you. I'll be watching you little Sammy …"
"I'll tell Dean about the phone message." Sam had promised the archangel-ex-trickster Gabriel.
How the hell Gabriel was still alive and how he had gotten there, remained a mystery to Sam at the moment. But he knew that there would be no way he was getting out of the deal he had made with Gabriel, so that the two brothers would be able to return to the real universe.
If he tried to break it or get out of it somehow, then Dean's life would be in danger. So, Sam had no options left. He had to come clean to Dean about the phone message … and then, six months later, he had come clean about Purgatory.
So much for letting the past stay in the past.
Ah shit … this was going to be bad.