Huge thanks to Jenjoremy for fixing my spelling and grammar and making the words work. Also thanks to SandraEngstrom2 and Gredelina1 for all the help getting the ideas down.
Chapter Four
Ruby was waiting for Sam when he got to the park. It wasn't their usual type of meeting place—they'd always met somewhere private where Sam could work alone—but Sam thought this was safer now. They would have privacy among the crowd and if Dean tracked him, he could say he just needed a little space. There was nothing suspicious about visiting the falls.
She was leaning against the fence guarding the remains of an old building Sam remembered from his childhood. It had been the site of many games with Dean, hiding among the ruins, but now it was fenced off. It was the perfect place for them to meet as it bore so many similarities to them both. Ruby was the ruin of a soul and Sam was a ruin of a man.
As Sam approached, Ruby pushed away from the fence and walked towards him. Her expression was tense and her eyes tight. "Is it true an angel brought Dean back?" she asked.
"Apparently. It says it's an angel anyway. Looked more like a tax accountant to me."
"This isn't funny, Sam!" she snapped. "Do you have any idea how dangerous those things are?"
Sam had seen one smite a demon with one hand and bitch-slap a ghost. "I have an idea."
"No, you don't. You can't have if you're not running scared from them."
Sam shrugged. "What's the worst they can do?"
"How about completely annihilate you?" she suggested wryly. "These things have serious power. Apparently even more than Lilith if one yanked your brother out of hell. They're badass. They scare the crap out of me."
"Sucks for you."
"Sam, you're not understanding me. Angels don't like demons."
"They're not the only ones."
"Yeah, but these big guns won't care that I'm on their side. They'll smite me as soon as they see me."
"Maybe," Sam said, unconcerned.
She scowled at him. "And who's going to help you when I'm dead, huh?"
Sam shook his head. "What else do you know about them?"
"Not a lot," she admitted. "All I know is demons are running scared. And they're talking. They're so scared they're even talking to me."
"You don't know how to kill them then?"
"Kill them? Are you kidding me? They're angels, Sam!"
"They want Dean for something. They said they have 'work' for him to do. They can shove that. Dean is doing nothing for them."
"You think?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because the Dean I know will do whatever they ask out of gratitude for them springing him. Hell, he'd probably do it even if they hadn't. He's a good man. He'll help where he can."
Did she really think she was saying anything Sam didn't already know? He knew his brother better than anyone. But Dean wasn't doing it. Whatever they wanted from him, they could get from Sam and be grateful. He wasn't going to let his brother get dragged into angel crap. He had already given too much. It was his time to be safe.
"He won't have a choice," Sam said.
Ruby nodded. "I'm with you there. I don't want Dean at risk any more than you do, but how are we supposed to stop him?"
"That's where the killing comes in. I've stabbed one with the demon knife and another with obsidian and neither weapon even slowed them down. I need to know what can take them out."
"You're crazy," Ruby breathed. "Really crazy. You think you can kill an angel. Aside from the physical difficulty, it's an angel Sam. I'm not exactly the praying type but…"
"But what? I'll be damned if I take out one of God's tree toppers? Ruby, what do you think I am now? With what I've spent the last four months doing, I'm surprised Castiel didn't swap me for Dean while he was around."
She looked sad. "Be thankful he didn't." When Sam looked blankly back at her, she said, "What would that do to Dean? He's been through so much already. He doesn't need to lose you again."
Sam shook his head. Like he was such an asset to Dean. He was the reason Dean had gone… there… in the first place. Not only had Dean made the deal for him, but he'd failed to save him from it, too. He'd been so sure of himself, confident that he could do it, that he hadn't looked into any other way of saving him. He'd relied on himself, and he had failed. Then he'd failed again, as his and Ruby's plan had taken months too long. Dean had been saved by an angel instead. Sam did nothing but let his brother down. Dean would be better off without him.
"Sam!" Ruby shook his shoulders hard. "He needs you!"
"I'm not going anywhere," Sam said, almost honestly.
"Good," she said, satisfied. "Now, shall we go somewhere a little more private so we can get this done?"
Sam shook his head. "We're not doing that."
"I know it's only been a few days, but we should do what we can while we can. We don't know when you'll be able to get away from Dean and the others again."
"No, I mean I'm not doing that at all anymore."
"Sam, you need this. You need to strengthen yourself."
"No, I don't," Sam said firmly. "I need to cling to whatever humanity I have left."
"But Dean…"
"This is for Dean. He needs a brother not a monster."
"And Lilith? What about her?"
Sam shook his head. "I'm strong enough now. I don't need the blood."
"Sam, even with the blood you couldn't take her out last time. What makes you think you'll be able to do it without?"
"It's different now," Sam said. "I'm stronger than I was then. I can do things now that I couldn't before. When it comes time, I'll do it. You just watch me."
"You'll kill yourself trying," she said angrily.
"I won't."
He began to walk away from Ruby, but she came after him and grabbed his arm. His reaction was automatic. He squeezed his fist and she doubled over, crying out in pain. He held her for only a matter of seconds, just a warning, before he released her and she straightened.
She looked at him with betrayal all over her face. "You can't do this, Sam," she said. "I won't let you throw yourself into the fire."
Sam raised a hand and began to fist it, not hurting her, just warning her. "Tell Dean a single thing about what I've been doing and I will kill you. Understand?"
She looked stunned but she nodded. "I won't tell him."
"Good," Sam said, walking away again.
He needed a drink. He needed space. Most of all he needed Dean. He needed to immerse himself in what passed as normal for them and try to scrape together what was left of his humanity.
Dean woke suddenly, the screams of his dream still echoing in his ears. He was damp with sweat and shaky, and he drew a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
He was on the floor of Bobby's library, lying beside the couch where he'd insisted on sleeping instead of in the spare room so he'd hear Sam when he came back. There was a second bed made up on the couch for Sam to use, but it was untouched.
He heard a rustling sound in the kitchen, though, and thinking his brother had come back to continue the party, he got to his feet and slid open the door separating the library and kitchen.
Sam wasn't there. The angel from The Roadhouse was.
"Hello, Dean," he said, and Dean took a deep breath and padded barefoot into the room.
"Castiel, right? What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you. Nice work with The Witnesses."
"You knew about that?"
"Of course."
"And you didn't help? Bobby almost got his chest ripped out and Sam was choked half to death." Dean was angry now. He'd almost lost his friend and his brother to this fight. "I thought you angels were supposed to be guardians—fluffy wings, halos, you know?"
"Read the Bible. Angels are warriors of God. I'm a soldier. Besides, we helped where we could."
"What does that mean?"
"Ask your brother who saved him from the werewolf."
"Oh," Dean said lamely. "Well, thanks for that then."
Castiel shook his head. "He was not saved for thanks; he was saved because he is a warrior, too, and with the threat that hangs over us now, we need all the help we can get."
"That's for real then," Dean said. "What Bobby said about The Witnesses being some kind of portent of the apocalypse?"
"Wait," Castiel said.
Dean frowned. "For…?"
There was no need for Castiel to answer. The answer came in the form of the door opening and Sam stumbling though, reeking of whiskey. He looked from Dean to Castiel and sighed. "Awesome."
Castiel continued their conversation as if there had been no interruption. "The rising of The Witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals. Those seals are being broken by Lilith."
"Lilith!" Dean shuddered. He had not forgotten the little girl who had watched with glee while the hounds tore him apart. He remembered her face, her voice, her laugh.
Sam's expression darkened and Dean immediately regretted not concealing his reaction. Sam would remember her as well as Dean if not better.
"Yes, Lilith," Castiel said calmly. "She chose specific ghosts when she did the spell. Her intention, which was successful, was to kill as many warriors as she could."
"Hunters," Sam said.
Castiel nodded.
"But we put the spirits back to rest," Dean said. "So it's okay now."
"No more people will die by their hand," Castiel agreed. "But the damage is done. The seal was broken."
"Why break the seal?" Dean asked,
"Think of the seals as locks on a door," Castiel said,
"Okay. Last one opens and..."
"Lucifer walks free," Castiel said solemnly.
"Lucifer?" Sam scoffed. "Lucifer's just a story they tell at demon Sunday school. There's no such thing."
"Two days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we're here walking among you now for the first time in two-thousand years?"
"To stop Lucifer," Dean breathed.
"That's why we've arrived."
He looked Dean in the eye for a moment, seeming to stare right into him, and then disappeared.
Sam staggered to the table and collapsed into a chair. Dean sat opposite him, taking in what a mess his brother was and wondering where he would even begin to make it right for him.
"Angels," Sam said, making the word sound like a curse.
"They can't be all bad," Dean said reasonably. "Castiel got me out and he said something about you being saved from a werewolf."
Sam dragged his eyes up from the tabletop to look at Dean. He nodded but didn't speak. Dean wanted to know more about what had happened, but Sam looked away and broke the moment. There were other things he needed to talk about though, things he needed to know.
"Sam, that night, what happened?" There was no need to clarify what night. Sam would know. That night was surely imprinted in Sam's memory as clearly as the night Sam turned the gun on himself was for Dean.
Sam raised his eyes to Dean's again. Dean almost wished he hadn't. He looked awful, haunted, pained, as if in that moment he was suffering physical agony. Expect he wasn't. Dean had seen Sam in physical pain before, and it didn't look like this. It didn't look as bad this. Dean wanted to retract the question, but Sam had sucked in a deep breath and Dean was listening despite himself.
"I don't know," he said mournfully. "I thought I had her. I had a strong grip on her. Then she started fighting somehow, and it was like… I can't explain. It wasn't pain. It was something else. But I still thought I had it, then it was midnight, and I got distracted, and she was able to push me away. And…" He swallowed hard. "I am so sorry, Dean. I don't even have words… I swear I tried. I know it's my fault. I didn't… And you… And I can't even begin to understand what you went through. I am so, so sorry…"
Dean thought Sam would have gone on apologizing all night if he let him. He had already let him say too much, but seeing Sam so open was so unexpected that he couldn't stop him. He had heard enough though, and he forced himself to cut in on the stream of words because it was becoming too painful to listen to the longer it went on. "Sam!"
Sam ceased his endless apology and raised red eyes to Dean.
"It was not your fault," Dean said forcefully.
"If I'd tried harder—"
"No! You couldn't have tried harder. I saw you, Sam; you were giving it all you had. You tried, I know that better than anyone. No one could have done more. No one ever has done more for me. Lilith was just too strong, Sam, and you're only a man, powers or no."
"I could've—"
"What?" Dean asked. "What else could you have done?"
"I could have found another way. I shouldn't have relied on myself to do it."
"Bobby tried that. He spent the year counting down trying to find another way for me, and he came up with nothing. There was no chance of saving me, not through you or any other means. Understand? You did everything you could, Sam. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done for me. It wasn't even that bad."
"You went to Hell Dean," Sam growled.
"I know. What I mean is that it's not so bad now that I'm out. It's brilliant, in fact. I don't remember Hell, Sam. I'm sure it must have been bad and I must've suffered, but I don't remember any of it." He was lying to his brother, something he'd sworn he wouldn't do again, but Sam needed this lie.
"You don't?" Sam looked stunned.
"Not a single second," Dean said. "I remember the hounds coming for me, and then it's just a blank until I got topside. The angels must have wiped my memory." He smiled. "It's all good, Sam. I'm out. You're here. We're together. If we can just take care of this impending apocalypse, things will be golden."
Sam's face transformed from misery to something close to happiness. It was like seeing the sun creeping around the edges of a cloud—a glimpse of something that could be great. Dean was loath to ruin it, but he needed to know something, and he thought the only time he might get a straight answer was when Sam was out of his head on drink.
"Bobby said we lost the colt. What happened?"
The sun disappeared and Sam became dark again.
Lilith's sick, childlike laughter was all he could hear. He knew Dean had to be making sounds, but there was nothing but her ringing in his ears.
Dean didn't fall straight away. When the first swipe of the claws reached him, he bucked but kept his feet. His arms jerked and then fell to his sides again. He didn't try to staunch his bleeding. The second attack came and Dean fell back. There were wounds, there had to be wounds, but Sam couldn't see them. All he could see was Dean's right hand slowly moving across the parquet floor, reaching for something. Sam knew who he was reaching for, and he fought harder than ever to be free. It was too late to save him, he knew that, but he could be there and give his brother that connection. He couldn't break free though. All he could do was move his hand an inch away from the wall and reach for Dean with his fingertips.
Then Dean's hand stilled, the fingers curled slightly and moved no more, and Sam knew it was over.
"Bye-bye, Dean," Lilith sang.
Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks and his breath was hard to catch. He thought his heart would stop through sheer agony. It seemed impossible that he could hurt this much and it could keep on beating. He wanted it to stop. Death, Hell, had to be easier to bear than what he was already feeling.
Lilith was speaking, undoubtedly taunting him, but it was white noise. He couldn't hear anything but his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't see anything but Dean's face, uninjured and clear of blood, wet with the water now trickling from the sprinklers. It almost looked like he was crying, too.
"Kill me. Please, kill me."
It took Sam a moment to realize the words had slipped from his own mouth. The plea had come from him without thought or permission.
"Kill you?" Lilith asked, in her high, childish tones. "No. Silly Sammy, it's much more fun to watch you do it to yourself. I'm going to really enjoy this."
"If I get free, I'll kill you," Sam said. "You have to know that."
She smirked. "You'll have to find me first. We're going to have a game of hide and seek. I'm really, really good at it." She spun the colt on her finger. "Ready to play?" She disappeared without a sound.
Sam felt the force pinning him vanish and he stumbled forward toward his brother, sloshing in the water. He knelt and brushed a hand over Dean's peaceful face.
How can he be peaceful?
"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
Dean couldn't reply. The knowledge broke Sam a little more. He grabbed Dean's shoulders and lifted him against his chest. He began to rock him back and forth, crying and howling his pain out without relief.
Sam shook his head, shaking away the memory to return to him while he slept.
"Sam," Dean prompted. "What happened to the colt?"
"Lilith took it," he said dully.
Dean could never know the rest.
Sam passed out on Bobby's couch and Dean lay down again to try to get some more sleep, but he realized after a few minutes it wasn't going to happen. His mind was too filled with revelations and memories to allow him to rest.
He went into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. There was a bottle of whiskey on the counter that he knew Bobby wouldn't mind him sharing, but he knew that would be a slippery slope for him to start to descend. He sensed there were more sleepless nights on the horizon for him, and he couldn't deal with them by drinking every time.
He sat for a long time, just thinking over what Castiel had told them. It seemed incredible that the honest-to-God apocalypse was looming over them. Yellow-Eyes had been bad enough. The hunt for him had shaped his and Sam's lives; it had cost Sam's life and with the deal by extension Dean's. What would it take to save the world from the apocalypse before it was over?
As the sky outside the window began to lighten with the dawn, Dean heard movement overhead and then footsteps coming down the stairs.
He pasted on a smile and waited. A moment later Bobby came into the room, dressed for the day. He seemed as alert and awake as Dean felt, and he suspected Bobby might have been lying awake for a while, too.
Bobby paused in the library and looked at Sam's sleeping back for a moment then sighed and came into the kitchen.
"What time did he roll in?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder.
"Around two. Just in time for Castiel's appearance."
"That angel was here?"
Dean nodded. "He came to fill us in on a few things. That and scare the crap out of us."
Bobby looked at him questioningly as he pulled out a chair and sat down, and Dean went on, telling him everything Castiel had told him during his visit. As he came to a finish, Bobby leaned back in his seat and blew out a breath.
"Lilith's doing this?"
"Yeah. She's apparently got big plans now."
"Sounds like. Did Castiel tell you anything else about these seals? Like how we're supposed to stop them from breaking?"
"No, and to be honest, I was reeling too much to ask anything. Next time he drops in, I'll ask some more."
"Might be an idea," Bobby said. "So, is that what's got you sitting in my kitchen in the early hours?"
"Not entirely," Dean admitted. It was no good lying to Bobby, He always knew.
"I don't imagine it is. Do you want to talk about it?"
Dean considered. He was torn. He did want to talk, but at the same time he was afraid. There was so much he was keeping to himself that he didn't want to share, but perhaps if he told some of it he'd feel better.
"Yeah, I think I do," he said.
"Is it Hell?" Bobby asked bluntly.
Dean held back a shudder. When Bobby said it, it sounded simple, like it could be explained in that one syllable word. The name of the place didn't even begin to encompass it. It didn't explain the pain and stench and noise and pure desperation.
Dean drew a breath and said, "Time in the pit is somehow different than it is up here. It was four months here, right? But down there it was decades."
Bobby didn't say a word, but Dean could see his shock clearly enough.
"I don't know how long I was there exactly. I just know it felt like forever. Every day seemed endless and there were so many damn days. Endless days on the rack…" He did shudder this time as the memories came to him. "And the pain… Pain doesn't even come close. Not agony either. I have no word for what it felt like." Dean shook his head. "And then it gets worse."
"What could possibly be worse?" Bobby was pale and he looked like he wanted to be sick.
Dean shook his head. He couldn't confess that. What he had done there was a secret that he had to keep to himself. He knew on the logical level that it wasn't his fault. A person could only stand so much before he or she broke. But he didn't want Bobby to see him as what he had become. He wanted to stay his boy.
"I can't talk about that part," he said. "I'm sorry, Bobby.
"Can you talk to anyone about it?" Bobby asked. "Sonny maybe? Or Sam?"
"Sam?" Dean laughed harshly. "Are you kidding me? Have you even seen him lately? He's…" He didn't even have words to describe what Sam was now.
"He's messed up," Bobby agreed. "But he's still Sam. He's tough. He can take it."
"No," Dean said firmly. "I told him I don't remember Hell, and that's how it stays. Sam doesn't need more of my crap dragging him down. He's been through enough. He can't take any more."
"Are you sure that's not just your fear talking?"
"It's my heart talking. I have put Sam through enough. I refuse to add to it with anything unnecessary.
"This doesn't sound unnecessary to me."
"It is," Dean said. "Sam doesn't need to know. He needs my help, not the other way around."
"I think you're wrong," Bobby said. "I think you both need help, and lying to your brother isn't helping anyone."
Dean shook his head. Bobby didn't understand. He hadn't seen Sam break in the night. He hadn't seen the raw pain in him as he'd apologized. Sam didn't need to know, and Dean would make sure he didn't.
"I mean it, Bobby," Dean said. "Sam doesn't hear a word of what I told you, understand?"
"You're making a mistake." He sighed. "Fine. I'll back your play, I won't tell him anything, but just don't expect it to end well."
Dean nodded, satisfied. It probably wouldn't end well, things rarely did for them, but Sam would have something close to peace for a little longer. That was worth the lie.
So…Lots of secrets and lies happening right now. All because they're trying to protect each other. Seems perfectly Winchester to me. How about you?
I knew when I started posting this story that I was going to lose some readers from the last, so I want to say special thanks to those of you that are still reading and especially those of you that review. It means so much to me.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx