Pressed Into Service
Summary: Sam's not himself after a research trip goes horribly wrong… really not himself.
For those of you who were curious, the diamond thing is absolutely real. Icky, but real…
Chapter Four
Dean stared at the ring in both horror and fascination. Mrs. Conrad had had her husband's ashes made into a diamond. She was wearing him. That was wrong on so many levels.
Sam advanced on her and whatever she saw in his face made the woman back up a pace. She was standing on the other side of the coffee table and as Sam rounded it, she moved to keep the piece of furniture between them. Sam kept after her like a shark circling its prey.
"I saved you," Sam growled. "I saved you."
"What are you talking about?" she said, her voice rising in panic, still keeping the table between them. She held her hands out trying to ward him off, but the diamond flashing on her finger only seemed to enrage Sam further.
"I pushed you out of the way. I died for you, you ungrateful b-"
"Brian, stop," Dean ordered as he placed himself between Sam and his quarry.
"Brian?" Mrs. Conrad said. "I thought you said his name was Barry."
Dean ignored her. "You can't hurt her, Brian. You died for her. You saved her. Are you going to ruin that now?" Dean knew a little bit about self-sacrifice. The fact that Sam was trying so hard to save him from the deal was a tangible reminder of why Dean had made it in the first place. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if Sam had just blown off the deal and moved on. Still, kind of ruins the gesture if you smack the person around after you save them. "You can't make what you did worth nothing. You're just trying to keep your family together, right? This. Isn't. Helping."
Sam looked down at him with those unnerving bright blue eyes. He just stared, wheels visibly turning.
"Brian?" The woman had backed away from them, standing against the far wall. "This nutjob thinks he's my husband?"
Sam's eyes snapped up, looking at her, a mask of fury replacing the thoughtful expression.
"Carrie, I'll pay you to shut up," Dean said. "You're not helping either."
"Look, Mister," she said, her voice shaking. "I don't know what you think you're up to, but I want you out of my house. My husband is dead and I for one want him to stay that way."
Dean actually turned and looked at her in exasperation. "What did I just say?"
"You never listened to anything I said," Sam ground out through clenched teeth. "Never."
Dean turned back around and put a hand against Sam's chest just as his brother started forward. He immediately had to lean into him. Sam was just bigger than he was and given the chance the overgrown gorilla would simply overpower him.
He was so busy trying to keep Sam back, Dean wasn't prepared to defend himself when Sam lashed out. Brian might not know how to fight, but Sam did and Sam remembered exactly the place where he'd caught Dean's ribs during their first fight. The air left Dean's lungs in a whoosh, his ribs on fire as he crumpled to the ground.
Carrie screamed as Dean collapsed and Sam stepped over his fallen form. Desperately, Dean grabbed for Sam's ankle and held on for all he was worth. Sam tried to shake him off, but Dean held his brother's heel with one hand, the tip of his shoe with the other and twisted sharply. Dean kept twisting until Sam had no other choice but to fall to the ground or ruin his ankle, knee too if he was unlucky.
Just as Sam stumbled, Dean finally managed to drag a lungful of air into his still burning chest. "Your ring!"
The woman looked at him in confusion. "What?"
"Your ring is keeping him here," Dean managed to cough, still holding Sam's foot to keep him from going for Carrie. "Get a hammer or something!"
Sam furiously flipped over onto his back and using his free leg kicked Dean's shoulder. Dean cried out at the sudden pain radiating from his collarbone and released Sam who was on his feet in seconds and advancing on Carrie.
"Get away from me!" Carrie said. Sam was blocking her exit now and she was being forced to back into the room to keep any space between them. "Don't touch me!"
"I've heard that one before, Honeypot," Sam snarled.
"Honeyp…" Carrie was now looking at him wide-eyed. "Wh- What did you call me?"
"I wasted my life. I gave it away for nothing!"
Sam lunged for her and Dean leapt simultaneously on an intercept course. He came at Sam from the side and knocked him to the floor, face first. Dean quickly jammed a knee into Sam's back using his full weight to keep him down.
Breathing heavily Dean looked up to see Carrie staring at him in horror. "Lady, which part of get a friggin' hammer didn't you understand?"
"What?"
"A hammer. Go get one." Dean pointed toward the door for emphasis and Carrie finally seemed to appreciate the need for speed and ran.
Sam was fighting fiercely to unseat Dean. Sam and his freaking upper body strength, he was almost doing a pushup with Dean still kneeing him in the back. Sam raised himself off the floor and then intentionally fell flat, knocking Dean off balance and in that bare second Sam managed to flip over. Using his orangutan-long arms, he grabbed a decorative tray off the coffee table and brought it back catching Dean on the side of the head.
That did it. Dean was finally angry. Generally, anger didn't help in a fight. It gave you tunnel vision or it made you sloppy. It got in the way of seeing all the options. But at that moment, Dean saw with unerring clarity. He grabbed one of Sam hands, twisted until Sam had to flip over again and then held onto the hand, locked with the thumb pointing down, relatively speaking. As long as he held on, Sam wouldn't be able to do any real damage.
Dean's head swimming from the blow to the side of the head, he very inelegantly sat on Sam. He kept himself there and held Sam's hand twisted back, knowing that if he let go, he might not get another chance for this to end well.
Finally, Carrie ran back in looking a little like a hammer-wielding psycho. "I found it!"
"Your ring! Break the stone!" Dean ordered. "Smash it with the hammer!"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Lady, I've got my ass planted on my brother to keep him from strangling you," Dean shouted. "That's about as far from kidding as I can get. Now smash the thing before he kills both of us!"
She hesitated yet again and Dean felt like strangling her himself. "Look, I'll have to get off of him to break it. I don't think you want me to do that!"
"But it's a d-"
"SMASH IT!" Dean barked, fighting to stay seated as Sam continued to try to buck him off.
Finally, the woman took the ring off her finger and set it on the coffee table. Using the hammer, she brought it down on the diamond.
Which did absolutely nothing.
Ok, apparently diamonds were forever; even man-made, pseudo-diamonds made out of freaking dead people. He'd been hoping it wasn't a diamond-diamond, but it seemed carbon was carbon and that annoying truth was about to get him killed.
"What now?" Carrie demanded, watching as Sam once again tried to jolt Dean off.
Ok. Think, Dean. Think. Brian was a diamond. How do you get rid of a diamond? It wasn't like they had a nuclear reactor handy to throw the thing into. And what moron thinks of turning a body into a freakin' diamond anyway? A body… The diamond was a body. So treat it like a body.
"Salt!"
"What?" Carrie asked, now completely bewildered.
"Get some salt and some lighter fluid or gas or something."
"Are you crazy?"
"Maybe so, but hurry it up!"
Carrie left at a run, while Dean concentrated on keeping Sam where he was. So they couldn't actually burn the diamond. It wasn't like burning bodies was a technical thing. It was more of a symbolic 'Get out and stay out' thing. At least that's what he hoped. If not, then Sam was going to be spending more time with Brian than either of them wanted.
Carrie came back, her face flushed from running, carrying a salt shaker and a gas can that looked like it had been sitting in the garage for years. "What now?"
"Pour the salt over the ring. Then the gas," Dean ordered, all the while fumbling in his pocket for his lighter. Carrie poured the salt over the ring, making a little mound of it. She opened the gas can and then once again hesitated.
"What's the matter?"
She glanced at Sam as if trying to make a decision. "B-Brian used to call me Honeypot." Dean looked closer and saw that there were actually tears running down her face.
"So?" Sam jerked angrily and Dean was momentarily afraid he would break Sam's wrist, but he ignored the instinct to release him. Not Sam. Brian. Mostly.
"Is… is that really him?" she asked. "Brian, I mean?"
"Yes. Now pour the gas!" Dean barked.
Amazingly enough, she obeyed. He barely waited for Carrie to step back before throwing the lighter on the table and watching most of the tabletop light up.
"I'm sorry, Brian. You deserved better," she whispered.
Almost instantly, Sam's whole body relaxed. Whether it was the salt and burn that did it or the half-baked apology, Dean didn't care. Carrie grabbed a blanket off the sofa and began trying to put out the burning table. The smell of singed varnish and old quilt quickly permeated the room, but Dean didn't complain.
Sam coughed and then tried to move, but Dean was still firmly planted on his back, holding his hand twisted back.
"Sammy?" Dean said, his voice rough.
"Dean?"
"Yeah."
"I'm on the ground again," Sam observed, exhaustion in his voice.
"It was kind of necessary."
"You're sitting on me."
"Also necessary." Dean rolled off Sam so that he was sitting beside him. Breathing heavily despite his protesting ribs, Dean was grateful the smoke had been minimal. "Dude, if I ever give you another gym membership, just shoot me," he said.
"You told me that was against the rules," Sam said, his voice oddly hoarse, almost as if from disuse. "No shooting Dean. That's the rule." He rolled onto his side, grunting with the effort, then looked up. "You're bleeding."
Dean put his hand to his head and hissed. "You hit me with the tray."
"Sorry," Sam said simply.
"Dude, who uses a tray? I mean honestly?"
Sam tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best. "Is… is there a reason my ankle hurts?"
"I had to nearly twist it off your body to keep you from strangling Carrie."
Sam bolted upright and frantically looked around. His eyes fell on the woman who was standing in the doorway to the room trying to decide whether she should run or not. "Is she…" He cleared his throat. "Are you ok?"
She shook her head back and forth woodenly. "I… I don't know."
"Are you physically hurt?" Sam asked, deciding it was necessary to be specific. She shook her head again. "Good," Sam said, letting out a slow breath. "Good."
"We're both fine," Dean reassured him. Sam looked like he could use it. His expression said he was only a few minutes away from trying to find a hairshirt. "What's the last thing you remember?" Dean asked.
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose trying to concentrate through his apparent headache. "We… were in the cave… and everything went hazy. And then we were in the room. And I gave you some ice for your face…" He trailed off, his expression troubled and uncertain.
"Let me guess," Dean said dryly. "Hazy?"
Sam suddenly went very still, as if he'd heard something Dean hadn't. "Dean," Sam said worriedly, "are my eyes blue?"
He sounded so small and scared, like the long-ago little boy who'd come running to Dean for comfort that Dean's protective hackles rose, instantly wanting to fix whatever it was that was troubling his brother. "No, why?"
"I… I don't… feel right," Sam said.
"Should I call an ambulance?" Carrie asked tentatively, but Dean quickly shushed her.
"What do you mean you don't feel right?" Dean anxiously scanned his brother up and down.
Sam braced both of his hands on the ground, but Dean could see that he was visibly faltering. A second later, Sam was sliding to the floor, all of his muscles relaxing. Dean scooted forward, still on his knees and leaned over him so that he could see his face.
"Sammy?" He smacked him lightly on the cheek, but there was no response. He glanced up nervously at the remains of the mini-pyre on the table. Brian was gone. Dean was sure of it. This was something else. Something new.
Suddenly all of Sam's muscles tightened and he arched off the floor like he was having some sort of seizure. Dean fell back, startled, and nearly cried out when he put weight on his right arm. Sam had definitely cracked his collarbone with that kick.
As suddenly as it had started it was over and Sam was lying limply on the floor. A final tremor passed through his body starting at his head and working its way to his feet.
"Is he ok?" Carrie asked, nervously moving closer.
Dean grunted and sat forward again. He set a hand against Sam's chest and felt the reassuring rise and fall of his brother's continued breathing. "Come on, Sam. Help a guy out here."
As if in answer, Sam took a deep breath and straightened his head that had been tilted away. After another second he opened his eyes and then abruptly sat up, once more forcing Dean to fall back. Sam looked at him quizzically, his head cocked to one side.
But they weren't Sam's eyes. They weren't brown. They weren't blue either. They were a winter gray, cold and bleak. They were the eyes of a killer. Dean knew that look better than most men, but seeing it in Sam's eyes was worse than heartbreaking. It was indecent. It was like having Santa suddenly snarl at you, or having Mother Theresa give you the finger. It just wasn't possible. And yet, Sam kept staring at him, those cold, calculating gray eyes staring at him.
Dean now remembered that bare flash of silver he'd seen in Sam's eyes back at the motel. He cursed his own stupidity and the fate that had caused Sam to be the one the ghosts had latched onto in the cave. Dean relied on Sam's ability to see the bigger picture and not get caught up in the details. Once the situation went south, Sam would have stopped to consider why the cave had collapsed in the first place and not just the man who had died that day. Dean had ignored it because Brian didn't fit the pattern of the later victims.
Two ghosts. One who had issues with his wife and another who was killing tourists. And the killer was looking at him now out of Sam's eyes.
The tray caught Dean on the temple this time. The tray had fallen next to Sam and he used it in a ruthless backhand. Dean was too shocked to even try to guard himself. On what planet was this fair?
Dean's vision was dark, but he heard Carrie scream, then vaguely registered Sam searching him for the keys to the car and pulling them out of his pocket. He heard Sam's departing footsteps and then nothing else.
More soon…