Act IV
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, letting his nerves settle before crouching down and silently making his way toward the front of the house. He knew the first demon was just inside the door to the left, the second somewhere on the other side of the front room, with Bobby smack in between. He'd have to shoot high in hopes of not hitting the other hunter, praying his brother was smart enough to stay low also. He held the Colt in his hands, thankful that they still had the gun even though its usefulness in their quest to kill Lucifer had been less than stellar. Despite its lack of effect on the devil, the old Colt was still a formidable weapon against regular run-of-the-mill demons and Dean felt more confident with the weight of it in his hand.
Bringing himself to his full height directly in front of the front door, he took a deep breath and released it before raising his left leg and slamming it into the wood just below the latch. The door splintered inward and he took a step inside, quickly turning and aiming the gun at the demon guarding Bobby. The demon started to rise, a twisted smile on it's haggard face as Dean pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the demon, forcing it back and away from the chair. Lights flashed inside the body as the magic of Samuel Colt's gun did its work, eradicating the demonic presence from the body it was riding as well as the world.
Without hesitation, Dean turned to the rest of the room, aiming the gun at the second demon that stood behind Bobby. His breath caught in his throat as the lamplight reflected off the large blade the demon held at his friend's throat.
"Get away from him," Dean ordered in a low voice.
"Or what?" the demon sneered. "You'll kill he? Shoot me with your magic gun?"
Dean simply pulled back the hammer of the Colt in response.
"Go ahead," the demon grinned, pulling Bobby's head higher, exposing the red blood that began to trickle down his neck as the blade started to dig into the skin. "Shoot me, boy. And I'll make sure I take your friend's head down with me."
Dean flicked his eyes to Bobby's face, hoping to see a sign that the older man was awake.
"Oh, he's alive," the demon continued. "But he's not going to be able to help you."
Dean frowned. "Help me with what?" Where the hell was Sam? He should've heard the front door crash in and been through the back and taken this freak out by now. Unless things weren't exactly as he'd believed…
He felt more than heard the movement behind him. Dropping his arm, Dean turned quickly only to be greeted by the butt of a gun to his head. The smiling face of a third demon was the last thing he saw as he dropped to the floor.
…..
He didn't exactly lose consciousness. He was aware if the feel of grit beneath his cheek as he was rolled onto his stomach, he was aware of the pull of muscle as his arms were wrenched forward and yanked, he was aware of the burn of the old wood floor beneath him as he was dragged and unceremoniously dumped back onto the floor after a few yards. He was also aware of the feeling of Bobby's legs against his back and he knew the old man was awake by the two small yet firm taps against him.
He groaned and turned onto his side, opening his eyes, waiting a moment for them to focus on the pair of shoes before him.
"Wake up," the harsh voice was not one he recognized, but the condescending tone was one he was all too familiar with.
"Or what?" he asked slowly. "You gonna knock me out again? That's kind of defeating the purpose, don't ya think?"
He was prepared for the swift kick that connected with his stomach, able to tense his muscles to absorb the blow.
"Yeah," he said breathlessly as he curled in to protect himself. "That's gonna help. You morons always been this smart?"
A second blow was mostly blocked by his arm, which swung up at the last moment and caught the demon's leg, carrying it up and over, causing the body to loose its balance and topple back.
"Enough!"
The voice stopped him halfway to his feet and he pivoted in his crouch to see the second demon, still holding the blade to Bobby's throat. A quick look at his friend showed the old mechanic's eyes open and staring at him with a mixture of caution and remorse.
Dean grinned, the side of his mouth rising sardonically. "Hell of a rescue, huh?"
Bobby simply rolled his eyes, his opinion of plan obvious.
"Nice of you to join us, Dean."
Slowly rising to his feet, Dean swallowed as the world tilted for a moment before squaring his shoulders and turning fully toward the demon. He stared at it passively from under hooded eyes, giving no reaction to the taunt.
"A simple invitation would've been fine."
The demon pulled Bobby's head back further and tilted the blade to catch the flickering lamplight. "Oh, but that's exactly what this is, boy. An engraved invitation." It slowly drew the blade across Bobby's neck, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.
"You hurt him and I swear to God you will never get what you're after."
The demon smiled. "So you do know what we're after." It nodded and released Bobby, taking a small step back. "Fine. You give me the key, I give you your friend."
"Right. Because demons are so good at making deals."
"We are rather adept at the art, wouldn't you say?"
Dean's lips tightened into a sneer. "Like I should trust you to keep your word."
The demon frowned, putting a hand to its chest as if wounded. "Why Dean, I'm surprised. When has one of my kind ever gone back on a deal? You made a deal to go to Hell. I'm sure you remember how that worked out, right? Now I'm offering you the life of your good friend Bobby here for just a small, insignificant little trinket."
"Insignificant?" Dean scoffed. "After everything we went through to put Lucifer back into that cage, you think I'm just going to hand you the means to get him back out?"
The demon shrugged. "Your choice really. I thought I'd offer you a chance to save what's left of your family.. but if you'd rather play a martyr…." It stepped back toward Bobby, the knife tapping against the mechanics shoulder. "I'd be just as happy to play it that way."
Dean chanced a glance at his friend, relieved to see the look of trust shining from the man's eyes. A sad smile lifted the corners of Bobby's mouth and he gave Dean a slight nod, letting the younger man know he had no problem accepting his fate.
The demon sighed as he witnessed the exchange, shaking his head in mock remorse. "Dean, Dean, Dean. When will you learn. We will get what we want one way or another."
"How?" Dean asked, eyebrows rising as he turned his attention back to the demon. "You kill him and you've lost any leverage you had. You kill me and you'll never know where the damn key is."
The demon narrowed his eyes, not liking the insolence in the young man's voice. "We won't kill you, Dean. Not right away."
"Torture?" Dean laughed out loud. He took a step closer to the chair, forcing the demon to shift on its feet and step to the side to keep the bound man between them. He was aware of the other demon still behind him. He knew it probably had a gun trained on him but there was little he could do about it right now and forced himself to remain focused on the threat in front of him. "Do you really think you can do anything to me that Alistair didn't already do?" His voice had dropped to a low rumble and he leaned forward, his eyes daring the demon to comment. "Do you actually think there is anything you can dish out that I haven't already taken?"
The demon raised its head, suddenly not as sure of itself as it had been moments before.
"Maybe I'll just kill you both, then." The demon finally decided.
"Then you'd still have to deal with me."
The voice from behind caused the demon to turn, shock showing on its face as he took in the shadowed figure at the back of the room. The look of complete surprise on the possessed face would've been comical, if it hadn't been so alarming.
"No," the demon said after a moment. "You… you're…"
Sam smiled coldly, emotionlessly, and Dean felt a chill go up his spine as he remembered the last time he had seen that expression on his brother's face.
When he had let Lucifer in.
"I'm what?" Sam's voice held a lilting chill that made Dean's heart leap into his throat. "Dead? Gone? Trapped?" He stepped forward out of the shadow of the doorway, his head tilted down, his eyes dark in the low light. "I'm right here."
"You're not… you can't be…" the demon stuttered, stepping away from the hunters, backing toward the far wall.
Dean waited, not sure how the scene would play out. Sam was scarily convincing in his portrayal of Lucifer, his eyes and face showing no trace of the man Dean had welcomed back from the dead.
"Sam?"
Bobby's whisper was hesitant as he watched the young man he had believed lost to them forever stand before them alive and whole. Dean watched as a flicker of… something… skirted across his brother's face as his eyes met Bobby's… something warm and familiar and so completely…Sam.
Dean found himself suddenly able to breathe again. Whatever had shone on the familiar features – even if it had been for just a heartbeat – had been something that had been recognizable as Sam and Dean allowed his instincts to take over. With a quick nod to his brother, he stepped back, sweeping a leg out, knocking the demon behind him off his feet. He reached out, grabbing hold of the man's shotgun as he went down, quickly spinning the weapon and jamming it into the demon's face. He knew the blow wouldn't stun the thing for long, but he bought himself enough time to search the room, spying the Colt lying on the table next to the door. He jumped across the struggling demon and reached out toward the Colt, feeling his fingers close around the familiar butt of the gun.
"Dean!"
At his brother's shout, he automatically dropped to the floor, rolling and bringing the Colt up. The demon was standing, weapon raised toward him, orange lights flashing beneath its skin. As he watched, the possessed man fell to his knees and tipped forward onto the floor two feet from him, the hilt of a very familiar looking knife embedded in his back.
Dean craned his neck up, his eyes meeting his brother's who simply grinned and shrugged. Movement to Sam's right caught his attention and Dean shifted the barrel of the Colt, aiming and pulling the trigger even as the last demon brought his own weapon up, aimed at Sam. The demon fell, the internal fireworks a replay of his friends' just moments before.
It was Dean's turn to grin and shrug. "About time, Francis."
"You were doing fine."
Dean touched the new welt along his hairline, pulling his hand away and turning it to display the new smear of blood. "Oh, yeah. Just awesome."
"If you two are done?"
Both men turned their attention to the older hunter still tied to the chair in the center of the room. Sam hurried forward, pulling another knife from his jacket and quickly freeing the older man. Dean pushed himself from the floor with a groan and made his way to the other hunters, pulling Ruby's knife from the dead man's body as he passed.
Bobby, once free, rose to his feet and turned, one arm reaching out to latch onto Sam's jacket.
"Is it… is it really you, boy?"
Sam smiled slowly, his eyes dropping momentarily at the emotion in the mechanics voice.
"Yeah, Bobby. It's really me." He grasped Bobby's arm with his hand, the two men holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it.
"How?" Bobby asked, confusion obvious in his voice. "You were…"
"I know," Sam interjected. "I'll explain what I can..."
"Later," Dean interrupted. "Right now, I say we haul ass before any more of these sons-of-bitches show up."
…..
They stopped at a motel as soon as they crossed the border into Iowa, an out of the way hole in the wall beneath even their standards. As Sam started his explanation to Bobby about what had happened at and since Stull, Dean silently crept outside, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he was about to have.
"Dean?" Lisa answered on the second ring, her voice reaching something deep inside him that he'd never even knew existed.
"Hey, Lisa."
"Are you okay?"
Dean nodded, hoisting himself up on the trunk of the Impala. "Yeah. We got Bobby. He's okay. We're all okay."
"Thank God."
Dean snorted a laugh, pretty sure God had nothing to do with it.
"How's Minneapolis?"
Lisa didn't respond right away, and Dean knew she understood the meaning behind his question.
"It's great," she finally responded. "My friend and her husband asked me to stay and help run their spa. You know, run the aerobics and yoga classes. That kind of stuff."
Dean swallowed, not expecting the sadness he was feeling. "That's, uh… that's great. Sounds like a good offer." He stopped as his throat closed up, a feeling of loss already beginning to hollow out another space in his heart. "So… uh… you gonna take them up on it?"
"I'm thinking about it. It's an amazing opportunity."
Dean nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as the ache in his chest started to grow. "What about Ben?"
"He loves it here. He's already made friends, and he's going to play on my friend's son's baseball team tomorrow."
"Wow," Dean said, forcing his voice to remain light. "That's… that's great."
There was an uncomfortable silence and Dean found himself listening to the sounds of Lisa breathing. He'd become accustomed to hearing her breathing, lying with her at night, his mind unable to shut down, replaying the memories of Stull, of Sam, over and over. He found that concentrating on Lisa's light breathing had lulled him into a semblance of peace and he'd finally been able to close his eyes without seeing his little brother's face contorted into the sneer of repulsion Lucifer wore like a mask. It had taken a long time each night, but he'd begun to focus on her every night, and after a while, was finally able to sleep.
He owed her so much…. and he knew he'd never be able to repay that debt. The only thing he could really do for her was to let her go.
"Dean?"
"Um, yeah. I'm here."
"You're not coming back, are you?"
Dean swallowed hard, finding it harder to say goodbye than he'd ever imagined it would be.
"It's okay," she continued, her voice hitching as she obviously held back her tears. "I… I never thought you'd be able to stay."
"Lisa,,,"
"No. I understand. It's not your life. It's okay. I guess… I guess I just…"
"I'm sorry." His voice was barely a whisper and he felt the burn of tears he would never let fall. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not. You're a good man, Dean Winchester. And I… I will always love you."
The click in his ear was followed by dead air and he closed his eyes, dropping his hand as he closed the phone. He let his head fall, his phone held tight in his hand as the overwhelming sense of loss engulfed him.
"Dean?"
He turned his head and tipped it slightly, acknowledging Bobby's presence beside the Impala. The older hunter took it as an invitation and stepped around the trunk leaning his body against the cool metal, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Where's Sam?"
Bobby quirked his chin back toward the partially open door to the room, and Dean glanced back at the light spilling out onto the asphalt lot.
"Taking a shower. Said it'd been a couple days."
Dean nodded, shoving the phone and his hand into his pocket. "So… what do you think?"
"About Sam?" At Dean's nod he frowned, finally shrugging both shoulders slightly. "I don't know what to think. I mean if ever anyone was due a good turn it's you two boys, but…."
"I know," Dean sighed, the ache in his chest hitching up a notch. "But, I gotta believe, Bobby. I don't think I could handle it if…"
"I hear ya, kid." Bobby shook his head. "I believe it's your brother. Whether or not God saved him… I don't know. But I'm gonna believe it's him until I have a real good reason not to."
Dean laughed softly, knowing the older man's faith in Sam almost rivaled his own.
"Yeah, me, too."
"You okay?" Bobby asked, breaking the momentary silence that had spread between the two lone occupants of the parking lot.
Dean nodded, then shrugged, not really sure how to answer. "I guess."
The older man tilted his chin toward the pocket Dean's phone had disappeared into. "Was that your girl?"
"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath, blinking quickly against the burn in his eyes. "She's okay for now."
Bobby nodded in understanding. "As long as she's not near you."
"I can't risk putting them in danger." Dean wasn't sure if he was trying to explain it to Bobby or to himself. "I just… I care about them too much to risk anything happening to them. She has a life… they have a life and as much as I might want to be a part of it, I know it's better if I'm not."
"It takes a brave man to make the tough choices, Dean."
"Well, I don't feel very brave, Bobby. I feel… pretty fucking empty."
"Give it time, kid. You've got your brother back. Just let that sink in for a while. Everything will work itself out."
Dean laughed and gave the older man a sideways look. "Like it has so far?"
Bobby grinned in return. "Seems to me you're a bit better of than you were a few days ago." He tilted his head toward the now open doorway where Sam stood, hair dripping, leaning against the frame.
"Yeah." Dean said, taking in the sight he'd never believed he'd ever see again. "I guess you got that one right."
…..
Epilogue
Dean knocked on the door again, stepping forward and craning his head to peer into the front room through the glass. The TV was on, but there didn't seem to be anyone inside, which was odd considering it was nearly 7:00 and time for Ben's favorite program. He reached out a hand and placed it on the knob, surprised when it turned easily in his grasp. He pushed the door open, first leaning forward then stepping inside, frowning at how empty the place felt.
"Lisa?" He stepped in further, closing the door behind him. "Ben?"
There was a soft looking white sweater he'd seen Lisa wear numerous times draped across the back of the couch and he moved closer to it, his hand slowly caressing the familiar material. His eyes searched the room, landing at the base of the steps. Maybe they were both upstairs and hadn't heard the knock. He quickly moved across the room, his hand on the rail and one foot raised to the step when he heard a noise coming from the kitchen.
His body tensed, instincts taking over as he moved silently toward the dining room that connected the kitchen to the rest of the house. He didn't carry a weapon, having locked the guns up in the Impala's secret compartment at Lisa's request, and although he only expected to find his new family cleaning up the dinner dishes or maybe scooping up ice cream in preparation for an evening of relaxation, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he moved into the light of the room.
Lisa and Ben both sat at the table, their heads tilted back at an awkward angle. The fronts of their shirts were drenched in deep red, almost black blood, their vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. Dean stopped at the sight, his heart climbing to his throat, cutting off his air.
"You're late, Dean."
His eyes shifted to the counter to the left of the table, his mouth gaping as he watched his brother meticulously wipe the blood from a large butcher knife with one of Lisa's red checkered dishtowels.
"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely discernable, but Sam didn't seem to have any problem hearing it.
"Not quite." The younger man grinned coldly and Dean gasped at the lilt in his brother's voice. "Sam's not home anymore." He dropped the knife on the counter and stepped around the table, his shoe squeaking in the congealed blood pooling on the tile floor. "Sorry about the mess, Dean, but I had to get your attention." He stepped directly in front of Dean and the older hunter found he couldn't move.
"What do you want?" he managed to whisper.
Lucifer smiled. "Out."
Dean bolted upright, the dream still vivid in his mind. His heart slammed against his ribs as his breath caught in his throat. He turned his head, easily making out the form of his brother, sleeping peacefully on the opposite bed.
Sam looked... like Sam. No weird vibes, no evil presence... just Sammy.
But was Dean only seeing what he wanted to see? Was Sam really Sam?
If Lucifer had truly taken his brother over, would he even be able to tell? Lucifer had fooled him before in Detroit. Would Dean be able to tell any better now?
It was conceivable that the devil was strong enough to control Sam even from inside the cage... he was the devil... who really knew what kind of power he possessed? If he'd somehow sent Sam's body back... controlled or... whatever... what did he want?
That was simple. The key.
But maybe the nightmare was just that - a nightmare. Maybe Sam was really Sam. Maybe God had finally done something right and given the good guys a break.
Dean rubbed a hand down his sweaty face and took a deep, shaky breath in an effort to slow his racing heart. How the hell was he supposed to know what was real? How was he supposed to know what - or who - to trust?
Crowley had cautioned him, even Bobby hadn't been one hundred percent sure, but everything inside him wanted this to be Sam. He needed his brother back - hell he deserved it.
But...
For the time being, he would keep the location of the rings to himself. The fewer people who knew where the key was hidden, the safer it - and they - would be. If it really was Sam, he would understand. If it wasn't...
The devil was good, but he wasn't infallible. If it really was Lucifer controlling Sam's body, then he would make a slip at some point and Dean would do what he had to do. But until then, he had to trust his brother. He had to believe they had finally been served a little slice of good luck.
God had brought Cas back new and improved, giving him enough mojo to heal Dean and bring Bobby back, so why was it so hard to believe He would spare Sam? They'd sacrificed everything. They deserved a reward.
Slowly, he let himself relax back into the pillows, his heart slowing to something close to a normal pace as he tried to breathe deep and regular. He wasn't going to borrow trouble. They'd been handed a miracle and, despite their track record with good luck, he was going to take this one at face value for now. His brother was back, they were together and back on the road, saving people, hunting things... the family business.
Everything was as it should be and Dean was going to hold on to it for as long as he could.
After all, he told himself, life goes on, doesn't it? Whether you want it to or not.
The End
Well, that's what I'm going with until season 6 starts up and proves me wrong. I'd love to hear what you thought! Did it work? Like Chuck said, any monkey can write a beginning. I would like to believe I'm a smart monkey. g Let me know what you're hopes and dreams for season 6 are. I'd love to hear speculation. Thanks for reading! Is it September yet? - Sue
