Darkness
Chapter Four
Sam's hands were brutal as he rolled his brother onto his back, shaking his head in disgust as he slapped him hard about the face to waken him. Blood poured from Dean's gaping head wound, blinding him as he dragged his eyes open, and nausea roiled in his gut as he realised the knife had slipped from his grasp. Sam saw the terror in his brother's eyes and rejoiced that his work was near done. Still he could not resist inflicting one last cruel injury.
"This what you're looking for?"
Sam pressed the Sgian Dubh into his brother's hand and squeezed his fractured fingers closed around the blade's handle. Dean could not hold back the whimper of pain as the broken bones ground on each other and Sam smiled at his brother's obvious distress.
"So, go on then, Dean...Kill me. Spill the 'blood of man' that your ritual demands...Save the world and be damned for killing your own flesh and blood."
The words spilled triumphantly from Sam's mouth, spittle flying from his lips into Dean's face as he delighted in his torment. He knew that to turn his perennial protector into his assassin was the cruellest punishment he could inflict and he revelled in the suffering he saw in the familiar pale jade eyes.
Dean struggled to rise, his body too sore and abused to do his bidding easily. All he wanted to do now was rest, sleep. To simply turn his face to the concrete wall and deny the monster his brother had become. But he knew he couldn't. He had to finish this as no one else could.
It was all he could do to pull himself upright, to shuffle back against one of the steel girders and slump there, the knife held loosely in his lap as he breathed heavily with the effort.
He was beaten. He had failed. There was but one thing he could do now if he were to save Sam.
"You...'re...right..."
The whispered words oozed defeat and he coughed, the tremors from the motion jarring his wounds and making him tremble with pain as he looked into Sam's face.
"I can't kill you, Sam. I've spent my whole life looking out for you, making sure you were okay, and I can't be the one to spill your blood."
Sam sneered, knowing that victory was nearly his. He let the exhausted man continue, suddenly interested to know what he would say, now that bitter defeat clung to him.
"But I can't let you walk this path either, bro…"
Dean's soft, green eyes sought his brother's and, in that instant, he let go the shutters that guarded his soul, allowing his tormentor see through that velvet gaze into his breaking heart. Sam was amazed to see not anger or resentment, but love, unconditional love.
That image shocked the younger man, rocking him back on his heels with its unexpectedness. He knew so well that he did not deserve it after all he had done and, whilst he resented all it represented, a tiny, deeply repressed part of him bathed in its warmth.
"I've always known it would come to this. That one day I'd have to choose between life and death if I was going to save you from the Darkness. I never wanted it to be like this for you, Sammy."
As he spoke, Dean's eyes closed momentarily, the grief that had been building his entire life suddenly too immense for him to carry any further. He was too tired to continue, too tired to try and reason for Sam's soul. He had only the strength for one final action.
The words of the ancient prophesy swirled in his head
"...And so shall the Vessel of Light take up the Sgian Dubh and, with the black blade, let flow the crimson river that will wipe away the evil from the heart of Man. And through this sacrifice will their souls be freed from the darkness..."
He knew what he must do. He had known, deep down, from the first moment that Bobby had read the Di' Rhalian text that it would come to this. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He had faith that the blood spilled would somehow redeem Sam's soul.
Shuddering, as the early stages of shock enfolded him, he brought his left hand up to fortify his shattered right, grasping the studded hilt before him. The sudden movement was unexpected and Sam recoiled from the delicate blade, surprised by the strength of Dean's actions.
He raised the knife on high, his tear filled green eyes holding the final image of his still beloved brother's face as he plunged the raven dark blade powerfully into his own chest, piercing deep into his heart. And the blood of the Vessel of Light was spilled to redeem the Darkness.
wWw
Blood gouted from the wound, coating Dean in a crimson shroud of sacrifice. Yet, even as the life drained from him his eyes, they remained clear and bright as they held Sam's gaze to him. His hands dropped weakly from the handle of the Sgain Dubh and, as they fell to his lap, he felt another's enfold his own.
"What have you done?"
Sam's horrified whisper was shaky with shock and as Dean's breathing slowed, terror paled his uncomprehending face.
"Saved...you..."
Dean gasped, blood bubbling on his lips as he smiled sadly at his brother.
"I don't understand..?"
Panic quivered in Sam's words and Dean drew in a faltering breath as he tried to speak. His clouding gaze dropped unsteadily to the ornate hilt sticking from his chest and shivering uncontrollably. He raised his hand to the knife to steady it as his body succumbed to the tremors of death.
"Prophesy..."
Sticky blood trickled from Dean's lip.
"Spill...blood...wipe away evil..."
Sam shook his head angrily.
"No! My blood, Dean! Mine, not yours!"
Dean licked at his crusted lips, wearily shaking his head.
"N..no, Sammy. The...Vessel's b...blood...me...I...the Vessel!"
Sam looked in horror at his dying brother and the veil of darkness that had been covering his eyes flickered. Understanding came to him in a surge of overwhelming grief. He stretched out his shaking hand and pressed it to Dean's where the knife emerged from his chest.
As their hands touched the prophecy was fulfilled. Blood flowed freely from around the disintegrating black blade as Dean's willing sacrifice washed away the last remnants of evil that shrouded the Heart of Man.
Sam screamed as the insidious veil was lifted from his conscience and he witnessed anew the countless atrocities he had perpetrated. In that moment he understood all he had done. What he had become. And he was bowed by the weight of his sudden guilt.
Dean shuddered as the crumbling obsidian blade released its inherent powers, cauterising his wound as it joined with the blood of the Vessel of Light to flood through them both, cleansing, healing, freeing their souls from the grip of darkness.
A crescendo of light radiated from the remnants of the hilt of the Sgian Dubh, blinding them with its brilliance, binding them together agonisingly as the ferocity of the Divine Coming surrounded them.
wWw
Bobby entered the building cautiously, his hunter's training forbidding him to move with the haste that the terror within his heart demanded. He had seen the sudden burst of ethereal light from outside the warehouse and knew that Dean had invoked the ritual. Dread filled him as to what he would find in its aftermath.
He made his way carefully through the vast room, his senses alert but his mind dwelling on the terrible images of the last few, bitter months.
When they had found the Di' Rhalian text in John's journal he had initially hesitated to show it to Dean, realising that the ambiguity of the ancient words would allow Dean to see that he might sacrifice himself for his brother.
They had worked for months to find the Sgian Dubh and understand how the black knife could save the world and, in all that time, Bobby had known that, if it came down to it, Dean would willingly give up his life for Sam. It had been a journey of enduring agony for the old man, watching the atrocity that was Sam, slowly and systematically eroding the remnants of the good man who stood at his side.
Bobby had tried to persuade the older Winchester, arguing again and again that Sam was lost to them and killing him was killing a creature of darkness and not 'their Sam'. But as he knew he would, Dean had remained stubbornly adamant that he could redeem his brother, and if it required his blood to do so, then so be it.
And so it was that Bobby crossed the final steps to kneel in the lake of blood beside the still bodies of the boys he loved as his sons and see which, if either of them, had survived.
wWw
Sam felt the rough touch of a hand at his throat, searching for a pulse, but he could not immediately find the strength to open his eyes. Feeling returned to his body slowly, and the return of awareness brought with it pain.
Wounds, which the veil of Darkness had shielded him from, now awakened deep within him, and he moaned softly as he ventured to open his eyes.
The shotgun barrel held mere inches from his chest swam in and out of focus as he struggled to prop himself on his elbow. Following its shortened arc, Sam's gaze travelled along its length to the stony eyed face of the grizzled hunter. Bobby coldly met his unsteady eyes and Sam flinched, recoiling in horror from the look of abhorrence that greeted him there. The old man tossed a set of hand-cuffs into Sam's lap.
"Put them on."
Bobby's voice was an icy growl as he pointed with the barrel of the sawn off at the cuffs.
"B...Bobby..?"
The unexpected and vicious blow came from nowhere to impact his cheek knocking Sam back to the floor.
"I said..."
Danger oozed from the soft words.
"Put them the fuck on, Sam, or I swear to God I'll shoot ya where ya lay."
The hatred in the old hunter's dove grey eyes was unambiguous and Sam took up the cold metal and snapped them stingingly around his wrists. He held them forward so Bobby could see they were secured and the old hunter nodded.
"Now, get away from your brother."
The muzzle of the sawn off indicated the pillar a few feet in front of where Dean lay, inert and frighteningly still, in the vast pool of congealing blood. Sam glanced down at the unmoving figure before him, his breath hitched in a small gasp and, despite the very real threat before him; he reached unconsciously towards his brother's deathly pale face.
"Oh god, Dean! No."
His shaky plea whispered on the sultry air.
"Don't you dare touch him! Get your damned hands off him, boy, or so help me I'll redecorate these walls with your worthless hide. Just move away from him. Now! Ya hear me?"
Bobby's words reverberated around the empty room and Sam swallowed hard, his eyes rising to plead with the enraged man before him. His inner battle was evident in the furrowing of his brow but there was no mistaking the determination in the old hunter's stance and, reluctantly, Sam did as he was told. He made his movements as small and non-threatening as he could, acutely aware of the volatility of the situation.
Bobby lowered the shotgun slowly, his face still a mask of undisguised contempt.
"Move even one inch and I'll blow you away. You understand?"
Sam nodded and sat stock still as the hunter finally lowered his eyes to the silent body of his broken brother.
Bobby rolled Dean from where he lay on his side in the blood, to rest him with infinite care in his lap. The young hunter was covered in his own blood, far too much of it to give any hope to the frantic man as he pressed his shaking fingers gently to Dean's throat. He forced himself to focus, enduring the eternal seconds as he searched for a pulse, finally letting out a shuddering breath, shoulders wilting as he felt the faint flutter beneath his calloused fingers.
The rhythm was weak and thready but Bobby was amazed to find it present at all.
"Thank God..."
He murmured as he gently began to examine the fallen man, trying to find the source of the massive blood loss.
"Is he alive?"
Sam's voice was soft, terror stealing the strength of his words. The old man looked up; his look of pleasure at finding Dean alive changing to one of contempt for the figure huddled against the pillar.
"You don't get to ask such questions."
Bobby's face was pale with barely contained anger.
"Do you even begin to understand what you put him through?"
Hard grey eyes as cold as ice bored into Sam, chilling him with their intensity.
"You tortured him, you heartless bastard. Every hour of every day, for weeks on end and I had to watch. I had to watch as you ripped his heart to pieces."
He didn't raise his voice and the quietness of his words made them all the more powerful.
"I set the bones you shattered and sewed the holes you tore in him and watched while a little bit more of him died each day. Can you understand what that felt like? "
Bobby spat the words viciously, finally able to vent some of his fear and anger, and Sam cowered from them, each one striking him in the heart like an arrow.
"Ya disgust me, ya hear? "
Bobby glanced up from his examination of Dean to scowl at the restrained man, the hurt at Sam's betrayal evident in his stare.
"See this?"
Bobby had raised Dean's stained T-shirt and revealed the angry red scar, a legacy of the ritual, over his heart.
"After all you did to him; he was still willing to die for you..."
Bobby pulled the shirt back down, the scar was too raw and painful to look at, and he drew Dean close to him, supporting his head as it rolled in unconsciousness.
"I know...I watched him, Bobby."
Sam words were quiet with regret, which only served to anger Bobby more, the old hunter's fury evident in his stiff posture and paled face.
Sam knew that if he had been willing to rest Dean down he would have received another blow. As it was the look of disgust on his friend's face was worse than any physical blow. It ripped through to his heart with its intensity.
"What happened to you, boy? I don't even recognise you anymore. Did ya get off on it? Was that it? Did hurting Dean make you feel powerful or something?"
The words repulsed Sam but he knew he deserved that and worse. He wanted to try and explain. The black caul that had enveloped him had robbed him of all judgement, but the animosity he saw on Bobby's face silenced him. Frowning he lowered his eyes in shame and watched silently from beneath his matted brown bangs as Bobby continued his examinations of Dean.
The old hunter ran his expert hands over the inert figure, pressing down carefully on Dean's ribs and felt the tell tale 'give' beneath his hand as he found the ones newly broken by Sam's boot, but still Dean did not stir. Bobby continued, his practiced eye taking in the bleeding thigh and oozing head wound. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, applying the cloth to Dean's bloody temple.
The moan his attentions engendered was a mere whisper and had Bobby's senses not been alert he would have missed it, but it was there and it heralded a return to wakefulness that made the old hunter's heart leap.
"Hey, Dean? Steady there, son. Can ya hear me?"
Bobby couldn't keep the fear from his voice and Dean fought to pull his eyes open, desperate to ease the suffering he heard in his surrogate father's question.
It was no more than a slit of green, but to Bobby it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wiped the blood gently from the young man's face, curling his arm further around the broad shoulders as he stirred a little more.
Dean couldn't find focus; the world swam sickeningly before him, his eyes dazzled still by the light that had radiated from the blade. He concentrated, his breathing hitching as his ribs grated painfully, as he finally found his friend's worried face.
"B...Bobby..?"
The word ghosted from the bloodied lips, and the old man nodded, tears rolling from his eyes as he looked down at the deathly pale man in his arms.
"Yeah, Dean. It's me."
Dean wanted to smile but nothing seemed to be working right and he could only manage a slight twitch of his lips.
"S...Sammy..?"
The effort of speaking made Dean cough and the movement tore a cry of pain from him. Bobby held him, trying to steady him until the spasm passed. Exhaustion was written in the boy's every movement.
"Yeah, he's here, Dean."
The hunter stroked the damp hair from the bleeding brow and glanced towards the pillar. Sam dared to hold his eye for just a second.
"Ritual, B'Bobby...Dd't wrk..?Dd't free S...Sam?"
Dean's words were slurred and anger at the state he was in flared in the old man. Here he was, beaten half to death, and all he was concerned about was the evil monster that had engineered his agony.
"Dammit, Dean!"
The pain-wracked hunter could hear his friend's exasperation and he understood it, but all that mattered at that moment was whether they had reclaimed Sam. He struggled to rise in Bobby's arms desperately searching for his brother with unfocussed eyes, panic resonating in his words at his need to see him.
"Sam...Sammy?"
The younger man crawled from the pillar, one eye warily on the veteran hunter, unable to deny his brothers broken call, as he knelt beside Dean. He smiled weakly.
"Hey, Dean. Take it easy. I'm here."
Sam's voice was a guilt laden whisper and Dean's heart went out to his brother. The elder Winchester struggled to focus, the world was telegraphing around him. Blackness encroaching on his blurred vision.
"Did it work, Sammy? Is it you again?"
Sam nodded, tears flooding his soft hazel eyes as he heard the desperate devotion in his brother's pained whisper.
"Yeah, it's me. I swear, Dean. I'm sorry...So sorry..."
He stopped not knowing how to say what he needed to say. Dean nodded, weariness robbing him of the strength to speak, his face way too pale.
"The things I've done..."
Bobby's eyes bored into Sam, silencing him with its undisguised loathing.
"Later...Sm...It'll...b...alrght..."
Dean gasped and he rolled his head so he could look at Bobby, tears welling in his pain-wracked eyes.
"Wanna ...go....home...Bobby..."
The old hunter nodded, and bent, gently easing the downed man to a sitting position. Sam reached out to help only to have Bobby's fierce glare warn him off.
"Don't you touch him, boy. Don't you dare!"
His voice was unforgiving ice, matching his stare and Sam shrank from the words.
"You don't get to touch him. Do you understand me? Not after what you have done. You aren't worthy to touch him."
Sam bowed his head, unable to brave the contempt in the old man's eyes.
"B...Bobby..."
Dean gasped, his features perturbed by the animosity spilling into the room and Bobby regretted distressing Dean but he could not, would not, move on this point. Not yet anyway. Not till he was sure. Not till he could erase the images of the death and destruction wrought by Sam's hand from his mind.
"Come on, son. I gotcha."
With infinite care the old hunter helped Dean to his feet. It was a struggle, the younger man leaning so heavily on Bobby that he thought he might fail before they made it out of the building. But it didn't matter. He would have found the strength a thousand times over for this man.
Bobby pulled the injured hunter's arm about his shoulders, scooping the shotgun up as they rose. The movement was painful and Dean bit his cheek to keep from crying out.
"Srry...B...Bobby..."
He gasped as the floor tilted beneath his feet. Nausea assailed him and he swayed dangerously.
"Nothing to be sorry for, Dean, but you gotta hang in there whilst I get ya to the truck."
Bobby jogged the young hunter a little as he spoke, trying to ensure he stayed conscious enough to walk. The movement jostled his wounds and a weak groan escaped his tightly pressed lips.
"Hang in there, Dean. I can't carry ya and we need to get ya out of here."
"'K..."
It was all he could manage and Bobby tightened his grip on Dean's wrist, pointing the shotgun in his other hand towards Sam. He gestured abruptly toward the doors of the warehouse.
"Get going!"
Sam took a step towards them, only to be halted as the muzzle of the sawn off levelled with his heart.
"Lemme help. Please, Bobby. He can hardly walk...Please!"
It was a plea but Bobby shook his head.
"You ain't earned the right, boy."
The words cut straight to Sam's heart.
The muzzle gestured again. Sam reluctantly turned and slowly, they made for the door.
wWw
The sun was just beginning to rise as they emerged into the soft glow of the morning light. It was cool in the lee of the warehouse and Bobby struggled to drape Dean's jacket, which he had reclaimed as they crossed the building, around the injured hunter's trembling shoulders. Shock and blood loss were taking their toll and Dean was leaning increasingly heavily on the older man as they crossed the vast warehouse.
The rational part of him told Bobby he should relent and let Sam help support his brother, but for the life of him he was unwilling to allow it. In his eyes, Sam was going to have to earn the right to be trusted again and it was going to take a long, long time.
Fortunately the fresh air seemed to rally Dean a little as they reached the door and he raised his eyes from the floor to contemplate the soft dawn as they made their way slowly towards the truck.
He was way too pale for Bobby's liking, his skin almost translucent as grey smudges bruised his high cheekbones. The light from the sun dappled his green eyes with tiny flecks of gold, giving him an otherworldliness that was startling, and yet somehow appropriate, for the 'Vessel of Light'.
"'S morning... Bbby."
Dean's words were quiet and slurred but Bobby did not miss the significance of them. He knew Dean was as amazed to see this dawn as he was. He felt the bone weary man try to straighten a little to find the welcome warmth of the early light and he marvelled at Dean's resilience and fortitude. Pride swelled within the old man giving him a much needed burst of energy.
"Sure is, son and it's a real purdy one."
He felt Dean's head nod weakly against his arm and knew that his reserves of strength were near gone.
"We're nearly there, Dean. Think ya can make it?"
The old hunter panted loudly as they hobbled the last few steps.
"Sure... 'm fine."
It was a breathless whisper and Bobby carefully tightened his grip on his fragile charge as he glanced at Sam, knowing the younger man was listening to their exchange. The concern for the elder brother quickly left his face and coldness predominated in his expression as he met Sam's guilt-filled hazel eyes.
"Get the door, boy."
There was command in the older man's voice and Sam moved ahead, raising his shackled hands to the handle. He pulled the door open clumsily, the rusted hinges squeaking loudly in the early morning hush, as Bobby leaned Dean up against the side of the truck. The old man flinched at the sound, looking around nervously as if half expecting the demon hordes to descend, but none came. Dean noted his friend's tension and understood its origin. They had spent too many months running from and fighting with the minions of Hell to suddenly lose their perpetual wariness.
"'S okay, Bobby...they...not...coming..."
Dean raised his eyes heavily to his brother's and managed the slightest smile as Sam nodded in affirmation.
Bobby kept his hand carefully pressed to Dean's chest as he watched the exchange, knowing the world was tilting on its axis for the young hunter as he contemplated the problem before him. How the hell he was gonna get Dean into the cab without hurting him further? He really had to take Sam's offer of help and yet it was unthinkable after all that had passed between them.
The younger Winchester stood to the side, his mind still reeling from the enormity of what he'd done. He tried to blank out memories of the last few months, to focus on the present. He stared at the two men before him, one broken and wounded as he leant unsteadily against the cab, the other, pointing a loaded shotgun in his direction whilst he eyed the distance from Dean to the cab seat.
Sam could see in Bobby's eyes he was wondering how the hell he was gonna haul Dean into the cabin without hurting him any further and knew he could offer a solution. Wincing as fresh injuries made themselves known, now that the darkness no longer shielded him, he took a deep breath and risked Bobby's wrath one more time.
"Bobby, please, lemme help. He's in pain enough as it is. You'll never get him up there on your own."
The older hunter looked intently into the warm hazel eyes that had once been so familiar to him. Was this truly 'his Sam'? Dare he really trust him? Soft words cut through his reverie.
"'S okay, B...Bobby. It...S...Sam. Let...him...h...help... "
Dean's unfocussed gaze held the older man's as he gasped breathlessly. Certainty was absolute in his emphatic statement. Certainty that the chained man beside them was indeed 'their Sam'.
"Are ya sure?"
Dean's head flopped into a nod, lolling forwards to rest on his chest.
"'m sure, Bobby. I…I felt it leave him. It really is Sam."
Pain dilated green eyes implored the older man to believe his words and Bobby had no heart to deny him. He smiled and nodded and saw relief flood Dean's sagging frame.
"Now, please, I just wanna go...home...'m so tired."
"We're going, Dean. Hang in there."
Scowling the old man turned, contemplated the younger Winchester for a long few seconds and then finally reached into his pocket for the handcuff key.
""I swear, so help me god. If you hurt him..."
Sam's earnest voice cut through the stillness.
"Bobby, I won't."
The older man held their gaze for a few seconds more, assuring himself that he was making the right decision before reluctantly nodding. He fitted the key to the small lock and removed the cuffs from Sam who was immediately galvanised into action.
"Ah, Bobby…If you go round and get up in the cab, I can help Dean up. I think I can maybe ease him round, without hurting him too much. Okay, bro?"
Sam flicked a quick glance at his brother's pale face, seeking his approval, before turning back to the glowering face of the older hunter.
Bobby's loud huff was all the reply he received as he hefted the shotgun and backed into the cab, via the open passenger door. Not for one second did the sawn-off waver in its unerring aim at the younger man. When he was settled on the wide bench seat of the old truck he called down.
"Dean, ya ready for this, son?"
Shakily, Dean raised his pounding head and rested it back against the metal panelling, his eyes closed tight as a flicker of pain crossed his shadowed features.
"'M ready."
The ascent into the cab proved an agony for Dean, the pain of his new wounds compounded by the extensive list of injuries he had sustained over the past months. He tried hard to pull himself into the cab but his long ordeal proved too much and in the end, unable to bear his brother's muffled gasps any longer, Sam simply picked him up in his strong arms and lifted Dean into the cab.
Bobby steadied the barely conscious hunter against him as Sam clambered in the other side.
"Give him to me, Bobby."
His tone was quiet but determined and Bobby looked into Sam's eyes. Somewhere beneath the turmoil he saw there was love, and in that there was hope for the future. He let go his grip on the elder sibling and Sam's long arm snaked firmly around Dean's shoulders, drawing the still form carefully towards himself.
"It's okay, Dean. Lean on me. I gottcha."
Bobby felt his heart start as he watched the exhausted man sag against his brother. It was a scene he had witnessed too many times before and one he thought never to have seen again.
He wanted it to be alright.
For his boys to be healed and returned to each other, but the devastation he had seen Dean endure at Sam's hands lingered with him.
It would take time, but maybe it could, one day, be alright again?
"Here...maybe you should give this back to him..."
Bobby stretched his clenched hand toward Sam, dropping something into the curious hunter's palm.
The small bronze amulet shone brightly in the early morning light and smiling at Bobby, Sam reached up and carefully placed it round his now sleeping brother's neck as he closed his arm protectively around Dean's shoulder.
Only then, as the truck growled to life and pulled away from the kerb, did he allow the silent tears to fall, streaming from his closed eyes, to run into the sweat-slicked hair of his big brother, his saviour
It would be alright.
Maybe not this moment. Maybe not for a long time.
But somehow, someday they would be brothers again.
The end
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