I am so, so sorry for the long wait! For some dumb reason I thought I'd have spare time to write during the semester. I stage managed for one show, and then immediately began acting in another, so my life has been anything but calm!
But enough about me, here is chapter four!
We sit like that for a few moments longer, Dean singing very softly while I try to control my heartbeat. This new behavior takes me by surprise, and I don't know what to do. Does this mean that Dean – the real Dean – is coming through? Or is this just another trick to his game?
"Dean? Is that you?" I whisper tentatively, longing for my brother to answer me in his usual protective tone. I knew that not all of him had become demonic – that there was a part of him that was still the brother I knew. I wouldn't let myself believe it, still won't. He's in there.
The singing stops abruptly, and I hold my breath, body tense. There is a second of silence, and then Dean's hand is roughly gripping my hair, pulling me to my feet. I wince, my stomach twisting and dropping at the same time when I'm face to face with the demon sneering before me.
"You were there, Dean," I plead, searching his cold eyes. "I know you were! That was you, not some demon version of you. Just listen, please, we'll figure this out –"
Dean's eyes flash black for a second, and the next moment my back is colliding with the side of the Impala, his face mere inches from my own. I don't stifle the grunt of pain in time, letting it escape as my injured wrist is violently jerked in the cuffs.
"You're lucky I want you relatively intact, baby brother," he seethes, shifting his grip harshly to my throat, squeezing ever so slightly. "Or I'd cut your tongue off right here and now to get you to shut up." I feel my eyes widen in shock, my free hand fighting against Dean's, which is tightening dangerously. "But I guess I'll just have to compromise…"
He pulls his fist back, and I brace myself for the impact that I know will plunge me into darkness.
A second before it comes, however, an overwhelming pain stabs into my skull, making my knees buckle from beneath me. Dean is taken by surprise, letting me fall to the cold pavement, my free hand pressing into my forehead. Tiny snippets interrupt my vision – two men in uniform, police badges, gagging on their own blood…
I cry out, the pain escalating. Something is trickling from my nose, and a persistent, familiar voice in my mind tells me it's my own blood. Tells me I know, I remember, how could I ever forget?
The present moment slips back into focus, Dean's face looking fixedly into my own. My palms are clammy, sweat soaking my forehead, the taste of iron in my mouth. I shake my head slowly, trying to push away the gruesome images.
A loud laugh cuts through my thoughts, sending a new twinge of pain into my brain. Dean claps a hand against my shoulder supportively. I scrunch up my face, trying to pull away, but unable to due to the handcuffs.
"Well well," Dean whistles. "Welcome back, Sammy! What did you see?"
"Nothing," I lie, trying to get my feet under me. I can't do anything for those men, not now. Dean would only make it worse. I can't confirm that I had another vision; if I'm going to ever make it out of this I have to keep as much as possible to myself. Just like before…Just like when you were crazy…The blood, the headaches, the visions, the relapse. And then all over again. It doesn't stop. It won't ever go away.
Dean's face hardens again. "You're a horrible liar, baby brother. You saw something, or someone, and I want to know what it was."
"It was just a headache – I didn't see anything!" I insist, wincing against the pounding in my skull.
Dean's hand darts out to grip my right wrist, already painfully tugged upon by the metal. "Tell. Me. What. The. Hell. You. Saw." He growls, punctuating each word with a harsh twist or squeeze on the swollen appendage. Tears spring to my eyes, and I grit my teeth against the whimpers that catch in my throat.
"Hands up where I can see them!" A voice bellows from a few feet away. Dean and I both whip our heads to the side, and my blood runs cold.
The same men that I saw, dead and covered in blood, are now standing before us, guns drawn and trained on my brother.
"No," I protest, catching a labored breath. "Get out of here!"
"Remain calm, sir," the taller of the two says in a steady voice, eyeing me with evident concern but keeping his gun pointed at my brother. "You're going to be okay."
"No!" I shout this time, stumbling to a kneeling position. "Listen to me – you need to run!"
Dean laughs now, putting his hands up like the officers demanded. "Is this what you saw, Sammy? This is what you wouldn't tell me about?" He looks to the two men, spreading his fingers in feign innocence. "Of course I'll go with you, officers. Just so long as you promise to look after my brother for me."
"You have the right to remain silent!" The other officer, shorter but beefier, demands, gesturing to Dean with his gun. A sick part of me wonders whether it would be horrible if he pulled the trigger. Do what I'm not strong enough to do. If what this demon is telling me is true, there's nothing left of Dean in there to save.
"Yes sir! Of course, sir, so sorry, sir!" Dean chuckles mockingly with a shrug of his shoulders. The two men come forward uneasily, one pulling handcuffs from his belt. Dean glances at me, sending a wink my way, and then jumps forward.
I see the glint of the blood on the blade before I look away, scrunching my eyes shut and trying to block out the horrible sounds as Dean slaughters the two men. I try to block out their screams, and the laugh that comes from the thing that used to be my brother.
It's over within three minutes, but it feels so much longer. The men have stopped gagging on their own blood. There is a moment of silence, and I force myself to open my eyes.
Dean is looking at me steadily, assessing my next move. I avoid turning to see the carnage, instead returning Dean's stare. I try to find any signs of remorse in his eyes, but all I see is darkness and hatred.
"Maybe if you had told me the truth I would 'a let them go," He says coolly, squatting down in front of me. "But you can't seem to get it in your head – I call the shots here, Baby Brother, and you do what I tell you to do. Got that?"
I shake my head slightly, "You're not my brother. You're not." My voice shakes, but I can't help it; not when he's looking at me like that.
Dean eyes me evenly, seemingly calculating options in his mind. "You know, Sammy, that hurts my feelings."
"Oh yeah?" I huff. "Well I'd say you deserve more than a few hurt feelings after all you've done."
"Well the thing is, the only reason you're still alive is because you're my brother, so I wouldn't throw around insults if I were you," Dean whispers, eyes narrowing.
"I thought you wanted me around so you could use me as some kind of weapon?" I spit back.
"Oh, you're a weapon, all right," he snickers. My skin crawls at his words. "One that shouldn't fall into the wrong hands."
I try to push aside the disgust that he views me as some kind of object to be owned rather than his family, and focus on the main point. "And who would that be, if not a psychotic demon on a killing spree?"
"Why, Crowley, of course," he scoffs, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
"Crowley?" I ask dumbly. "What do you want with Crowley? Payback?"
"Revenge does sound nice, yes, but I was thinking of something more along the lines of a throne in the main chambers of Hell."
My blood runs cold, eyes widening in shock. "You want to become the king of Hell?" I ask incredulously.
"Yahtzee!" Dean grins, patting me on the shoulder.
"And why would I ever help my brother become the king of Hell? HowcouldI even help?"
"Aw, I'm touched, Sammy; I thought you said I wasn't your brother anymore?" Dean taunts, ruffling my hair with irritating causality. "You're gonna help me because if you don't, you won't get your demon fix. And we both know what happens to you during relapse, don't we? As for the how – it's simple. I'm pretty damn strong on my own, but with your mojo going you can drop a group of baddies without even touching them."
"You know it's not that easy –" I interject, sick to my stomach at the very thought of both relapse and exorcisms.
"- Oh, but it will be when we're done," Dean cuts me off, voice ominous. "You're gonna help me with whatever jobs I have for you, or I'll make your life a living hell. Since we both know what Hell feels like, I don't think you'd be too keen on experiencing it again. After all, I did help slice and dice down there; I know the tricks. And I know exactly how to push your buttons."
The most terrifying thing is that I know what he's saying is true. No one knows me better than Dean, whether he's a demon or not.
"You're not stronger than Crowley," I say cautiously, trying a different tactic. "There's no way you could kill him."
"You know, Sammy, at one point I would have agreed with you on that. But you and I have made it through a lot of crap together over the years. Saving people, hunting things – the family business!"
"This isn't the family business!" I spit back. "You're insane! We're supposed to stop monsters like Cain, not become them!"
Dean grips my throat, forcing me back against the Impala. I grab his wrist, trying to pull him off of me. He blocks my windpipe with an easy flick of his finger, and uses my moment of panic to pull me to my feet along with him.
"You really should have thought about that before you started chugging demon juice, baby brother. Or you could have just offed yourself years ago. The world would be a hell of a lot safer if you had let it put you out of your misery; God knows it's tried."
"You never let me give up," I choke out, reaching for any ounce of breath I can get even as my visions blacks around the edges. "You always pulled me back."
"Yeah, well," Dean whispers. "Looks like there's a purpose for you, after all."
Yay Option One! You guys made it hard for me because the two kept on tying.
Options for the next chapter:
1. Dean forces Sam into submission with blood feedings and withdrawals until he becomes dependent.
2. Sam gets a hold of the First Blade and runs, trying to escape Dean who is on his tail.