DISCLAIMER: I promised Lilith I would give her scores of lollipops in exchange for her giving me Supernatural…all little girls like lollipops, right? But she seemed to prefer human heads on sticks over candy on sticks…so I promptly cancelled that transaction!
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One Shot
PREVIOUSLY: Lucifer turned back around one final time at that, pretend pity radiating from Sam's wide blue-green eyes and a saccharine smile on his lips, before walking away, bidding his nemesis his own twisted version of a farewell with an ominous, "See you in five years, Dean." And the elder Winchester could only watch him vanish in a flash of lightning, watch Sam vanish… but it didn't last for long. Before Dean could even draw a breath to reply or protest, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with none other than Zachariah…and back in his own time.
Chapter 3
2:08 AM…damn it. Bobby Singer rolled his eyes at the bedside clock's glowing red numbers, numbers which informed him he hadn't even gotten two hours of sleep before insomnia had reared its ugly head once again. It had been happening a lot lately, especially ever since the demon formerly known as Meg and her crew showed up and tried to get him to kill his eldest surrogate son. He had, thank God, overpowered the demon's will at the last second though, saving Dean but consequently condemning himself to permanent paralysis, according to the doctors' diagnosis. Not even that idjit so-called angel Castiel had been able to do a damn thing for him, although Bobby couldn't help but be suspicious that he was holding back in his most cynical moments…which were becoming more frequent thanks to the new disability, he realized.
"Damn useless slabs of meat," he cursed his now defunct legs as he hauled himself out of bed and into his waiting wheelchair using only his arms. It had been a process that had taken some getting used to, but like most things in his life Bobby hadn't stopped working at it until he had become an expert, with the wary hospital staff aiding him along the way…along with the Winchester boys, of course. The brothers had come to visit him often at the hospital, both more emotionally broken than Bobby was physically…and the bond between them hadn't fared any better. He had seen them at odds before, of course…they were siblings after all. But this had been different; he had never seen them so…distant. Not that it wasn't understandable…a lot of shit had happened to them and between them, and that was an understatement. Even in light of all the apocalyptic crap though, the salvage yard owner had known something else monumental was coming….something he had never before seen and had never wanted to see. And sure enough, he'd been right.
The brothers had split, voluntarily on both sides, and now Sam was off alone and distraught at some motel in Nowheresville, Oklahoma last he heard, while Dean was apparently having a grand old time with Castiel if his phone conversations with the elder Winchester were anything to go by. It was nowhere near right, imagining someone else other than Sam – especially a godforsaken angel – in the Impala's passenger seat cruising around with Dean and fighting alongside him, no more right than any time he imagined Sam gallivanting about with Ruby during and after Dean's stay in the pit. And Dean and Castiel aside, he was also loathe to imagine Sam on his own. The boy could attract all things supernatural and sometimes even evil humans to him like flies to honey, though whether that was due to the demon blood he had swimming around in his system, or the light and goodness that nonetheless still shone from his troubled soul, was a toss-up. Maybe both…but Bobby tended to believe the latter most of all.
In fact, not a day went by that he didn't feel regret and an itch to kick himself over how he'd buried himself in the bottom of bottles after they'd buried Dean, leaving Sam in the lurch and without a single defensive shield against that demon-bitch Ruby's master manipulation. Bobby's heart may have been a raw, open wound at that point, but even so he should've known that Sam's was in even worse shape and done something to help, no matter how many times the kid tried to push him away. But instead, his sorry, alcohol-numbed self had allowed Sam to do that very thing, and it was the younger man and his brother that were now paying for it with interest instead of the old hunter himself. Because when it came down to it, the paralysis was nothing compared to the mental and emotional anguish the boys had gone through…and still were going through. And Bobby could only pray that their recent split didn't prove to be permanent, that both boys came to their senses soon…lest he have to knock their thick heads together. Though…exactly whom or what he was praying to was a mystery even to him, since God had apparently left the building.
Sighing deeply, the old hunter wheeled himself into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water and some Unisom. He usually preferred to go the old fashioned remedy route on such matters, such as warm milk or soft music, but enough was enough…he just wanted the void that only deep sleep could bring as soon as possible. Once he had his desired items in hand, he parked himself at the table where he decided to boot up his laptop for a bit of internet surfing, figuring that television wouldn't hit the spot since half of what was on at such a late hour would likely be infomercials…not that he ever watched that much television anyway.
"You've got mail."
Huh. The electronic voice surprised him, being that he'd already checked his email before attempting to go to bed a couple hours ago. Looks like I'm not the only one pullin' the graveyard shift tonight... Curious, he brought up his account and keyed in his current password – 'rumsfeldlives4ever' – and then went straight to his inbox to see that the new message had been sent by… "Sam?"
For some unknown reason, Bobby felt a pit of unease open up within him. It wasn't like either of the boys hadn't sent him emails or even placed phone calls to him in the dead of night before, especially when it was an emergency or they just forgot they were in a different time zone than his like the idjits they could sometimes be…but maybe it was the message's title that was getting him. It simply read, "Thanks, Bobby". What the hell's the kid thankin' me for...? He couldn't remember having done anything for Sam lately that was particularly worthy of written gratitude, other than setting the boy straight that when he'd told him to 'lose his number' it had most assuredly been the demon talking and not him…but Bobby couldn't have not done that. He hadn't been just trying to make Sam feel better when he'd said he'd never cut him out of his life…he meant that down to his old bones. Sam was just as much of a son to him as Dean was and no matter what the kid had done, he'd wanted him to know that he'd always be welcome at Singer Salvage Yard.
Thinking back to the last conversation he'd had with Sam though, he couldn't really find the answer there either, unless Sam was thanking him for unsuccessfully trying to kick his rear back into hunting gear…but since that conversation had ended with Sam hanging up on him in the throes of despair, he reckoned that the youngest Winchester would've been more apt to title the letter "Sorry, Bobby" instead. So it was with trepidation that Bobby opened the email…and found not only a slew of much more comprehensive apologies and thank yous, but something a whole hell of a lot more gut-wrenching…and heart-stopping. "Oh, SHIT…damn it no you don't, kid!"
Stomach churning with horror, Bobby spun away from the table and raced at fast as his wheels could carry him for the phone…all the while fervently praying to that same anonymous deity that the intended recipient of the frantic call would pick up.
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"Son of a bitch!" Dean angrily slung his phone into the empty passenger seat. Mere days ago that seat had been occupied by Castiel, but the elder Winchester's eyes had been fully opened and now he knew…that seat truly belonged to no one but Sam. The little brother with whom he currently couldn't get in touch because there was no damn service out in the hick-sticks of wherever-the-hell-he-was. Hell, there seemed to be no civilization ahead for miles, and Dean wondered why Castiel had chosen the land that time apparently forgot as their designated meeting place. But then again…it was Castiel.
Despite that small frustration, though, all Dean could now feel was an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief toward the angel, both of which he had expressed as soon as he'd realized Cas had zapped him free from Zachariah. It was beyond him how two members of the same divine species could be so drastically different – one for the most part helpful, if at times a little vague and socially awkward, and the other ruthless, scheming, smarmy, and anything but helpful. The latter angel had indeed been responsible for Dean's visit to the year 2014, as he'd suspected, and had the gall upon bringing him back to rant at him about how every one of the horrors contained within it had gone down all thanks to Dean's refusal to play archangel condom to Michael. But Dean hadn't needed Zach's help in finding out where he – and subsequently, the whole future – went wrong…and it had nothing to do with him saying no to the angels. The whole point of Zach's intervention had been to teach him a lesson, and he had certainly learned one…just not the one that Zach had wanted him to learn. And he'd told the ass of an angel precisely that. Zach had been just starting to lose his cool when Castiel had snatched him – a Castiel who was back to his old, morally uptight self, thank God. Or, well…thank whoever.
Now Dean knew what he had to do, more than ever, and anxiously awaited the moment when his cell would be back in business…he had a brother to talk to. Maybe the Light Bringer was an appropriate enough name for the Devil after all, because evil incarnate though he may have been, he had definitely brought to light all of Dean's mistakes concerning Sam…and it was finally clear to Dean that his little brother wasn't solely responsible for any of it. The freeing of Lucifer, but moreover, the splintering of their bond as brothers, had been both their faults, not just Sam's, and easier though it was on Dean it just wasn't right or fair to let Sam take all the blame and bear all the guilt and weight of the end of the world…which was something the kid had been doing from the moment they'd escaped the convent. But big brother planned on putting a stop to that right away, along with making his own necessary apologies and owning up to the role he played in breaking the first seal in Hell...painful as that memory was to talk about. He'd just have to keep in mind that it couldn't have been any easier for Sam to have talked about his four months alone or any of the other things he had recently owned up to with full honesty, and suck it up…and if it got Sam back to him, he would gladly do it.
And he would also try to put a leash on his anger and bitterness, while he was at it. It still remained, of that there was no doubt…he was only human, after all. But contrary to what he'd told the kid in the horrible past months, so was Sam, demon blood addiction or no…and he deserved a chance. He would hear his brother's side of the story for the first time since Sam had spilled the beans about his solo sessions, and this time, there would be no snarky comments, no tuning Sam out to focus on his own problems, no cruel digs, and most importantly of all, no punches thrown. He was confident that his little brother knew he was sorry for the constant verbal and sometimes physical aggression he was prone to showing since his return from Hell, and ultimately forgave him…just as he knew that Sam was sorry for his own instances of these things, especially the words said while under the siren's influence and the hotel suite brawl while under the demon blood's, though Dean was having a bit harder of a time forgiving those. But where there was once no desire and no feeling of obligation for the elder sibling to come around, now there was want and determination. He and his brother had been separated long enough by the space between them – a wide chasm formed by bad decisions, their own stubborn natures, and even some things beyond their control, like the outside forces of Heaven and Hell that even now were ceaselessly and shamelessly still working to pull them apart. Now, it was high time not only to start building the bridge back to each other, but to cross it, once and for all.
"Hang on, kiddo," Dean murmured aloud. "I'm com—whoa!"
The sounds of Dean's latest classic rock ringtone suddenly filled the previously silent Impala, and the hunter was relieved by the return of cell service. It meant he could call Sam, just as soon as he talked to…Bobby, according to the caller ID. Huh. He's up unusually late…better see what else is up. But the Winchester hadn't gotten two words of casual greeting out of his mouth before Bobby's panicked voice penetrated his ears.
"Save it, Dean, I've been tryin' to get a hold of ya for five damn minutes! Where's Sam, is he with you?"
"Well, nice to speak to you too, Bobby," Dean huffed in annoyance. "Should I take a hint and---"
"No, you take a listen. If Sam isn't with you, then get to him. NOW. Is he?"
Butterflies suddenly came to life in Dean's stomach. "No, Sam's not here…Bobby, what's goin' on, you're freakin' me out."
"Then you know how I feel now, 'cause the email your brother just sent me is freakin' the hell outta me!"
"What…? What's that's supposed to mean…what'd the message say?" And apparently, the little colorful winged insects had grown some claws and teeth since the last time they'd made their presence known.
"Kid, I'm not gonna elaborate or sugarcoat it 'cause I'm afraid there's no time. But everything that boy wrote was screamin' suicide to me."
The butterflies died a painful death when Dean's stomach bottomed out. "Suicide? What…oh God, Bobby…where is he, do you know?!" The elder brother had already slammed on the brakes, car squealing onto the shoulder of the road to frantically await the salvage yard owner's answer.
"If I knew I'd be on my damn way to him, wheelchair or no! First thing I did was try his phone but the kid's got it turned off…I've got no way of trackin' him!"
"DAMN IT! Shitshitshit…okay, just think, there's gotta be something we—"
"Damn right there's somethin', and that somethin' is for you to holler for that feathered friend of yours and get him to find the boy!"
"I can't, Bobby, we've got the damn sigils on us, I have to contact Cas by freakin' cell phone now for God's sake! And the same goes for Sam…we're both hidden from all angels, even Cas." Dean took a shaky breath and slammed his hand on the steering wheel in a fit of frustration and frenzy…every second they wasted could mean the difference between life and death for Sam, and they'd already wasted far too many. "Okay, the last time I talked to him he was driving, didn't say where he was headed but if you know where he was last maybe we could---"
"The Plainsview Motel, Salina, Kansas, Room 13!"
"Is where he was last?"
"No! S'where he is now!"
Though Dean hesitated to answer in his surprise, he didn't hesitate for one second to burn rubber back onto the road. "The hell…? Is that just a guess? How did you---"
"I read all the way to the end of the message."
"And it didn't occur to you to do that before?!" Dean balked. Bobby, in turn, bristled.
"I panicked, Dean! Only three fourths of the way through it was clear 'nough that the boy was planning to end his own life, an' I understandably didn't wanna spend time readin' the rest that I could be spendin' STOPPIN' the damn kid instead!"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" surrendered Dean. "But why did he tell you where…oh, oh God…" Bile rose in the young hunter's throat, and it was obvious from Bobby's suddenly softened tone that he knew Dean had answered his own unfinished question.
"He was lettin' me know where to pick up the body, son. Said he didn't wanna chance bein' found by some regular ole' Joe an' be taken to a hospital morgue 'fore he was buried... 'cause them people wouldn't know to salt n' burn 'im."
"Oh God…" Oh God, Sammy… Dean could barely swallow past the huge lump in his throat. "Bobby…Kansas…it'll take me hours to get there, what if I…? What if I don't…make it in time?"
"M'sorry, Dean…all you can do is try, son. And break every speed limit from here to there along the way."
And suddenly, a light bulb went off in Dean's head. "No… No, there's one other thing I can try. But I've gotta get off here, Bobby, I'll…I'll call you. Either way."
"Good luck, kid. I'll be waitin' to hear from ya...and your idjit little brother too."
"Thanks, Bobby." Dean ended the call and immediately pulled up another number, the most recent addition to his list.
And if that angel dared not answer the instant he heard the ring, then, well…God help him.
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Castiel sat on the roadside, contemplating the recent turns of events. He supposed he should've moved on some time ago, back to his quest of finding his Father and back to the grind of just trying to stop Armageddon in general, but spiriting Dean away from his former superior Zachariah had taken a lot out of him, especially ever since he'd been severed from Heaven and the divine powers it bestowed. Not to mention what he'd done prior to that…
A shrill ring cut off his ruminations, and he realized it came from the device Dean had given him…his 'cell phone'. The angel extracted the small object from his trench coat pocket and looked at the lighted display. Speaking of the man himself… Having gotten the hang of the mechanisms over time, he pressed the 'TALK' button.
And after five seconds had passed, he recalled that he was supposed to be the first to speak. "Ah…hello?"
"Cas, it's me. Listen, have you left our little meeting spot yet?"
Castiel was somewhat taken aback by the urgent tone in Dean's voice, and answered with confusion in his own. "No…I have not. I'm seated here…enlarging my batteries, I believe the phrase goes?"
A pause, then, "Close enough. Well if you're still there, DON'T LEAVE. I'm coming back to you."
The angel's blue eyes narrowed. "May I ask the reason for this return?"
"It's Sam, Cas. I need to you to zap me to him, and I need you to do it now."
"Is he in danger? From demons?" Castiel heard his human charge swallow thickly on the other end of the line.
"Not from demons…from himself."
"The addiction, then."
"No, worse…he's gonna commit suicide, Cas. If he hasn't already."
Shock flooded the heavenly being's normally stoic features…this wasn't how he'd expected things to go, and surely this wasn't how his Father meant for things to go…was it? Surely his Father believed that the young Winchester deserved a second chance, a chance to be saved…as Castiel himself had come to believe. What Dean didn't yet know, and would likely never know was that the future he'd seen hadn't been all Zachariah's workings. Castiel had pulled some strings of his own, had stepped on Zachariah's pompous toes unbeknownst to the more powerful angel and used what he could of his remaining abilities to alter the way Lucifer presented himself to Dean as he possessed future-Sam. He had seen into Sam's heart and soul when he'd touched the young man to put the sigils on his ribs, and what he had seen was tragic but hardly monstrous…he'd had to make sure that Dean saw it that way too. Not that Dean thought of Sam as a monster to any degree anymore, of course…but issues clearly still festered between the brothers. Castiel had been dismayed when he'd asked Dean where Sam was and Dean had replied so indifferently, and he'd outright had to leave when the older sibling had started into the proclamations of how he was glad that Sam was gone…the angel just could no longer support such flagrant dishonesty.
After all, he knew he had been a participant in that for far too long himself when he'd worked for Zachariah without compunction…keeping secret the vital fact that killing Lilith was the final seal until it was too late, sneaking into Bobby Singer's panic room and deliberately releasing a strung-out Sam, leaving an undeserving Anna to be punished for calling him out on his wrongdoings, and finally, helping to keep Dean contained in the green room…until his guilt and previously shunted aside sense of right had finally gotten the better of him and he'd defied his corrupt boss by freeing Dean and sacrificing himself to the archangel. He knew that he owed Dean a great deal, Sam too, and he intended to repay every bit of it any way that he could.
And in the most recent case, that had meant using his powers to coax the brothers back together. Castiel knew that the split was temporarily needed for both of their sakes, but he also knew that if the split proved to be permanent, it would be disastrous…not only for the brothers, but for the world as well. It seemed that Sam had done much self-reflecting in his time apart from Dean and learned his lesson…but Dean had been a much harder sell. Castiel sensed tragedy was on the horizon if Dean continued to deny Sam's request to reunite and to deny what his own heart wanted in the process, so he had accumulated all the knowledge he'd gained of the youngest Winchester's inner workings and history and channeled it into Zachariah's manifestation of the Light Bringer, figuring if Dean wouldn't listen to Sam's side of the story from his brother's own mouth, he'd just have to hear it from someone else's…even the Devil himself. Though technically, it was still Sam's mouth, of course…
But apparently, he'd been too late in this endeavor as well, if what Dean had just told him was any indication. Dean's increasingly impatient voice snapped him back to the present.
"Cas? CAS! Answer me, you still there?!"
"I am here, Dean. Just…thinking." The angel cringed as the hunter's voice exploded in his ear.
"Well now's not the time to think, Cas, now's the time to give me a freakin' answer! Can you do it or should I just keep driving?!"
The angel sighed. He wasn't yet fully recovered from his recent efforts, and he wasn't entirely certain he could accomplish this task on top of them. But he couldn't not at least make the attempt. "I will do my best, Dean. Do you know where your brother is?"
"No, Cas, I was just gonna spread out a map of the country and close my eyes and point!"
Castiel's brow furrowed. "Forgive me, Dean, but…I highly doubt that the odds of locating the exact place where Sam is using this method are—"
"Oh for God's sake, Cas, is there no sarcasm in Heaven? Yes I know where Sam is, he's at the—"
"Tell me when you get here, Dean," the angel interrupted. "I will be expecting you." And with that he disconnected the call, needing to fully concentrate on recuperating as much energy as possible for the job ahead while waiting.
He didn't have to wait long. The sound of a powerful engine came rumbling in the distance only minutes after he'd put the cell phone back in his pocket, gravel kicking up in the wake of the Impala's tires as she tore up the road to where Castiel stood patiently. The black beauty eventually screeched to a complete stop, its owner immediately slamming the gear into 'park' and killing the engine before nearly throwing himself out the door, barely even bothering to shut it behind him.
"Do it, Cas," Dean ordered as he stalked up to the angel. "I don't have another second to lose and neither does Sam, he's at the Plainsview Motel in Salina, Kansas. I'll call you when I…when we, Sam and I, wanna come back."
"Very well, Dean," Castiel evenly replied. "Do you have…any other requests before I send you to this place?"
The Winchester's lips quirked in a tiny smile. "Yeah…take care of my car."
"It shall be in good hands." And with that, Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead, and a blast of brilliant light and a second later, the heavenly being was once again alone…praying to his absentee Father that his human charge could indeed save his younger sibling.
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As it always was whenever he travelled by angel-power, Dean had to take a moment to recover his equilibrium…but this time he took no more than that. Soon as the world had stopped spinning he got to his feet and sprinted in the direction of the lit up 'vacancy' sign of the motel in which his brother currently resided, starting his search for number thirteen with the nearest side of the square formed by the four long strips of rooms. His anxious eyes were met with a plaque embossed with a '61' and the hunter cursed loudly, taking only a split second to pick a direction and take off in it. The digits decreased in a blur as he ran – Room 53, 52, 51, turn a corner, 50, 49…shit, I think I picked the wrong way when I started! – and his pulse pounded in his ears. He picked up the pace even more and turned another corner at Room 26, finally putting him on the correct strip, the awareness of which caused his stomach to toss with more force than ever in anticipation and dread of what he would soon find.
19, 18, 17, 16, oh God, 15, 14…RIGHT HERE! Heart in his throat, Dean wasn't about to give a damn about property damage and kicked the door in without giving Sam any semblance of a warning…and that turned out to be a fatal mistake.
It was in fact hard to tell which Winchester was more startled and shaken in that moment – Dean, upon seeing his younger brother sitting barefoot on the side of his bed in a T-shirt and track pants with a damn gun held snugly against his own temple, or Sam, upon having his older brother burst into the room completely unannounced and unexpected.
And maybe, Dean would later reflect in the depths of grief, if he'd done just one thing different, he could've changed things. Maybe if he had shouted out to Sam beforehand and let him know he was there instead of breaking right in, or hell, maybe if he'd even knocked or made Cas zap him directly to Room 13 instead of only a short distance from the motel or not talked so long to Bobby or freakin' something…anything….it would've turned out all right.
But as it happened, only seconds passed between the brothers. Seconds in which twin crystalline tears spilled down Sam's cheeks into the corners of his quivering lips, his broken, strangled cry of "De…" – so mixed with surprise, hope, fear, resignation, and love – almost entirely drowned out by his older sibling's desperate bellow of "Sam, NO!"…and the muscles in his poised trigger finger already too committed to the action they had been about to perform the instant before Dean had shown up.
Too committed to loosen back.
Dean could only stand by in utter shock and horror, helpless…listening as a loud crack echoed throughout the motel grounds…watching as a fine mist of blood and brain matter exploded from the side of his baby brother's head to coat every nearby surface in crimson. Soundlessly screaming as the light left his brother's soulful blue-green eyes, his newly lifeless 6'4" frame jerking, swaying, and finally collapsing from the bed onto the floor below, with more red liquid life immediately saturating the dingy area of carpet on which his shattered skull came to rest.
Dean, in turn, fell to his knees.
And the night and world around the devastated older brother fell deathly still and silent.
TBC…
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A/N: Uh…two things. First – TRUST ME. Second – PLEASE DON'T KILL ME?! *gulps* :-o
Seriously though, remember what you've learned in canon…same thing applies here. Don't let that – yes, I admit – supremely evil cliffhanger scare you away from the story's conclusion, m'kay? Good. And I hope Castiel's part made sense here. For one thing, I believe he does care about Sam as well deep down and wants to see the brothers together…so I figured, if he had the power to zap Dean away from Zach, what if he also had enough power and the idea to tamper with Zach's future Sam/Lucifer, to make him a little more talkative and informative to Dean than Zach would've had him be? Going with the very loose rules that govern Castiel's abilities in S5 – sometimes he has them (The End), sometimes he doesn't have enough of them (Good God, Y'all, concerning healing Bobby) – it could happen…so here, it did. :-)
And one last thing…I'm hesitant to post the last chapter on Sunday, or what I now have come to know as "E/O Drabble Day/Night", because I really don't want it to get lost amongst the pages and pages those usually end up comprising almost entirely. I'm planning to hold off posting until around noon on Monday in order to avoid that…but if any of you absolutely cannot wait another extra day, tell me in your review and if I get enough people to say that, I'll trust that the final chapter will be a success on Sunday despite the drabbles and go ahead and post then anyway.
Thanks as always to my LLS for the beta and to all of you for reading…please do review, even if it's just to say a couple of words! :-)