Usual Disclaimer with the usual Suspects: That would actually suck to be a "usual suspect", rounded up every time the cops need a line up. Anyhoo: (Boys and show still aren't mineābut a gal can dream) Chapter 3 -Back on Terra Firma
Everything hurt. Sam opened his eyes to a dull gray sky and immediately closed them again. Even an overcast day was too bright after being in darkness so long. He counted to ten, breathing, taking inventory of his aches . . . nothing broken . . . everything bruised. Every inch of him from the pads of his fingers thrummed with pain. But his chest, oh his chest, hurt like a mofo with each inhalation. He lay still and let his senses drift outward, to the scratchy grass against his back, the light breeze ruffling his hair and shirt and skimming his exposed skin.
What had Lucifer done? It felt like he'd been strapped to a bullet train that exploded out of the earth. Cautiously this time, Sam opened his eyes, squinting just enough to see and the sight stunned him. It looked like he had been in the center of a forest fire. There was nothing around for miles but scorched earth, except the little patch of pristine wild grass he lay on. His clothes were in tatters, his skin caked in dark greasy mud.
But he was out. He breathed in the rich air, coated with soot, but so unlike the sulfuric atmosphere of hell. Squeezing back the tears, Sam sat up, nearly blacking out from the jolt of pain in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he pulled up his T-shirt and hissed as the material grazed across his skin where a black hand print rested across his sternum. Not unlike Castiel's handprint Dean bore from hell, but larger, more ominous. Lucifer's mark. The tie that ensured Sam would be ripped back to the pit upon his death.
He had to disappear. He wanted Dean, but this wasn't going to end well and Sam would be damned, literally, if he brought Dean into this. But the one thing he'd wanted to do, desperately needed to do, the one thing that haunted Sam all that time in hell was knowing Dean worried about him, that his brother would suffer just knowing what was happening to Sam on the rack. He had the chance to make that right, to let Dean know he was out . . . he'd do that. Do that one thing and then disappear for good. He probably wouldn't make it, would be dragged back to Lucifer, but at least this way Dean wouldn't ever know it. At least his brother could have some peace.
Sam hauled himself painfully to his feet and began the long trek across the blackened field. He needed to find a phone.
#
Bobby Singer set down the shotgun he was cleaning to pick up the phone. "Yep?" he answered in that no nonsense way that didn't give away who he was in case he needed to use an alias.
"Bobby?"
He froze. His fingers squeezed around the receiver. He'd know that voice anywhere, but it couldn't be. His thumb hovered over the button, intent on hanging up, but he'd done that once before when Dean first called, back from the pit. He knew it couldn't be Sam, but . . . Hell, he was too old for this, getting too sentimental. His heart could not take this. Trembling more than a hardened hunter should, his thumb lowered over the button again.
"Bobby, you there? It's me, Sam. Don't . . . don't hang up. Please don't hang up. I know this is weird. It's weird for me too, but please, Bobby. I need your help."
"Kid." Bobby's voice was broken even to his own ears. He could not do this. "Last I heard there weren't no phones in hell. Whoever this is, just . . . call again and I'll . . ."
"No, no, please Bobby . . ." This was ripping his heart out. He sounded so much like Sam, the tiny hitch in his tone when Bobby threatened to disconnect. "I'm not asking for anything. I just, I just need to get a message to Dean."
That finally hardened Bobby's resolve. It was one thing to jerk him around, but he wasn't going to let any half-assed demon or revenant reopen Dean's wounds and scrape his emotions raw. "Yeah? That was your first mistake. If this was really Sam, he'd know Dean's number by heart and wouldn't have to go around me."
"I called him. I dialed his number several times, but I couldn't go through with it. I just need you to tell him I'm out. I'm okay, but I can't come to him. Just let him know that. Please."
"Why couldn't you come to him? Mistake number two. That's the first place the real Sam would go."
"It's complicated."
Enough was enough. He couldn't do this. "Call again and I'll hunt you down." No more talk. Bobby slammed the phone down, stared at it as he ran a shaky hand beneath his trucker's hat. He couldn't get past the thought that maybe, just maybe . . .
He picked up the phone, punched in a number.
#
Dean was bored. He sat on the back porch, looking at the lawn he'd promised to mow. That was Ben's job, but Lisa and Ben had gone to her sister's for the weekend so Dean was left with house duty, when he was itching to go cut the head off a vampire or pump silver rounds into a werewolf or shape-shifter. Instead he sat on the steps of an all American house, taking a pull off his beer.
Lisa usually found him out here nearly every evening, just before the first stars came out. He'd always go inside then, unwilling to gaze at the stars. Lisa never asked him why, but he thought she knew. She was a dream, never pushing, never demanding any commitments. He was crazy about her. Her and the kid. But this life was a dream as well and he didn't quite know how to live it. How to hold onto it when he was barely holding himself together. Maybe in time because time heals all wounds, right? That was a load of crap he'd like to cram down the throat of whoever first said it.
His phone rang, drawing him out of his thoughts. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the caller I.D. expecting it to be Lisa, letting him know she'd arrived at her sister's safely, because he was like that, a worrier, but hell, he knew what was out there to worry about. He frowned when he saw it was Bobby.
"Bobby?" They hadn't spoken for six months, not since . . . "It's um, not a good time . . ." Same old line.
"Don't worry, hotshot. I'm not drawing you back into the life. I just need . . ." Something about Bobby's pitch was off, alerting Dean's senses. "Um, look. I hate to ask this, but I need to run something by Castiel. It's not like I can get him on the phone anymore, but, um, he always came to you when you called. I wouldn't bother you with this if it wasn't important, real important, so if you can reach him, could you send him my way?"
"Sure." Dean tamped down the urge to ask what was so big Bobby needed Castiel's advice, but it was driving him crazy not knowing. Maybe just a little weekend hunt wouldn't hurt, get the juices flowing again, keep him from going stir crazy, give him something to take his mind off S-. He squeezed his eyes closed, not believing he was about to say his next words. "So, um, is this anything I can help with?"
"No," Bobby said it so quickly it racketed up Dean's alert factor, but he let it drop.
"Okay, then. Nice talking to you. I'll let you know about Cas."
"Yeah. You too. I'll, um, I'll talk at you later." The phone clicked off. Dean frowned at it. Something was definitely up that Bobby didn't want him to know about.
"Cas!" Dean shouted into the air. "Cas, we need to talk."
Wind whipped across his face with a flutter of wings. Castiel stood several yards away. "Dean."
Wow, that was unexpectedly fast, as though the angel was on high alert, already attuned to listening to . . . whatever frequency angels listened to. "Something big's going down and I want to know what it is."
"How do you know this?" Castiel cocked his head to the side. "I thought you were . . . out of the game."
Dean rolled his gaze skyward. "I am. Bobby called, acting weird, asking for you."
Castiel nodded. "Then I shall go to him."
"Wait, wait!"
Castiel stared at Dean expectantly.
Dean punched resend and tossed Cas his phone. "Just call him from here. No sense giving the guy a heart attack dropping in like you do."
Castiel inclined his head and lifted the phone to his ear. "Bobby Singer? Yes, this is Castiel." Cas's gaze swept up to Dean's. "Yes, it is possible."
Dean heard Bobby shout into the phone, his voice nearly to the point of being anguished.
Castiel nodded, his eyes steady on Dean and then he turned his back to him, walking a few paces away. "Heaven's been awash with the news." Undeterred, Dean followed Cas, leaning in to eavesdrop. "Entire garrisons have been searching, but understand . . . with the Enochian symbols angels aren't our best resource. I see. Have you traced the call?"
Enochian? "What the hell?" Dean grabbed Cas's arm, spinning the angel to face him. He felt like he'd been sucker punched in the lungs.
Cas blinked at him. "Personal space, Dean."
"Oh that's rich coming from you. You're talking Enochian symbols with Bobby and as far as I know, me, Adam and Sam are the only people with those runes imprinted on our bones. Or do you just hand those out as party favors now? You're going to tell me right now what is going on. Which one of my brothers is an entire garrison of angels looking for? You told me Adam was safe in Heaven. Did he bust out?"
"Dean." Castiel's eyes widened. "Why would Adam want to leave Heaven?"
Dean stared. He staggered back. The ground was heaving beneath him. "Sam?" His brother's name came out in a croak.
Castiel sighed, lips pressed tight as though making a decision. "Rumor is Lucifer let him go, but has put a bounty on his head."
Dean lowered to the grass. His legs didn't have any strength to support him. "Is that true, Cas? Why would Satan do that?"
Castiel looked away, avoiding his gaze.
"Cas?"
"Your brother's body was getting in the way."
Dean shook his head, not understanding.
Cas attempted again. "Sam's mortality sustained him from breaking on the rack." He inclined his head, hoping Dean would catch on.
"Son of a bitch! So, so what? Lucy let him out, just so he could kill Sam and strip him of his body? So there are demons on his ass right now?"
"Precisely."
"My brother's out of the pit?" Unshed tears blurred Dean's vision. "We have to find him. How long has he been out? Why didn't he call me?"
"As far as we can tell, Sam's been out less than an hour. He called Bobby."
Dean grabbed the phone out of Castiel's hand. "Bobby, you still there!"
"Dean!"
"My brother calls and you don't tell me!"
"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't really believe it was him. I had to check it out with Castiel before I dragged you into it. Son, I'm really sorry. I had him right there, talking to him, but I hung up. Dean, I hung up on Sam."
Dean was steaming. He couldn't see straight, could barely force a breath in his lungs. "Anybody calls claiming to be my brother, you tell me. I don't care if it is a shape-shifter, demon or what. You tell me."
There was silence for a beat. "I traced the call."
"Where?"
" Uniontown, Pennsylvania. A pay phone three miles out at a Lucky Seven Gas and Go. I'm headed that way now."
"We'll meet you there." Dean ran to the Impala, parked in the back garage, opened the trunk and grabbed the packed duffle. The weight felt right as he slung it onto his shoulder. "Cas?"
The angel placed his hand on Dean's elbow and in a rush of wings, they were gone.
TBC
