Highway to Hell
He gradually became aware of voices. Someone was shouting, and he could hear feet pounding on the hard wooden floor. Hands grabbed his arms, and pulled him to his feet. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't live. The thought of what had just happened was too much.
He glared through the dense fog that clouded his vision. The bed where Sam had lain was empty. The spot where Pastor Jim had last been standing was empty. Dean was empty.
He didn't know what was going on around him. Someone was shaking him by the shoulders, and he wished they would just stop. It hurt. Everything hurt. The pain was unbearable, he knew he didn't have it in him to go on. He just couldn't.
His life had been ripped away, and it was all his fault.
A voice penetrated the darkness, bringing him back to reality. It was somewhere he didn't want to go. Everything hurt that much more, as if he were under a magnifying glass. He fought it, tried his hardest to stay in the numbing cocoon he had built around himself. It was not to be had. He gradually made out the words being yelled at him, the hands under his arms, pulling him up.
"Dean, we have to go!"
"No…" was all he could say. He wouldn't leave Sam, he couldn't. The hands pulled him forward, causing him to stumble and almost fall. The hands were there again, pulling him back up, steadying him. The hands that were trying to make him leave. He fought against them, not wanting to leave the room.
"Sam is still here," he muttered, not sure if he had actually spoken the words, or if they were in his mind, torturing him.
"He isn't, but the demon could come back. We need to go!" Something deep inside of Dean snapped, and he lost it.
Anger boiled over, filling his heart with an acidic pain and filling his lungs with a burning gasp. He was going to kill the demon. He pushed everything aside and concentrated on that burning pain, it brought him fully back to the present. Pastor Jim was running ahead of him, full speed down a flight of stairs. They were in one of the back stair wells, not daring to take an elevator. Jim was relaying the story as they ran.
"Once you fell, she knocked me aside with a swoosh of her hand. Then, she left. She was saying something about being unstoppable, having never ending power, now possessing one of the greatest beings," he said between mouthfuls of air. "What is she talking about? All she did was take over Sam…" He immediately wished he could take the words back. As they reached the bottom floor, he turned to look at Dean.
He had a dark look in his eyes, and Pastor Jim could almost smell the anger radiating from the young hunter. He was immediately glad he was not on this man's bad side and he almost felt bad for the demon. Almost.
"We need to come up with a plan," Dean said quietly through clenched teeth. His mind was purely in hunting mode. Deep down he was grateful to his father, grateful to the man who had shown him how to hide his emotions. He would do anything to get Sam back, and he knew they would.
Jumping in the driver's seat of the Impala, he waited for Pastor Jim to get in the passenger seat. He almost wanted to tell the man to get in the back, that that was Sam's seat, but he caught himself. All he could think about was how this man had performed the exorcism that had sent Sam to Hell, but he pushed that aside also. Jim had been as clueless as he had about what was going on.
As Dean drove to the motel, he wondered where Sam was right now. Was he hurting? What had he seen in his last moments? The gray mist came back to Dean, and he suddenly remembered seeing it in the Trap right before the demon had taken over Sam's body. Had Sam seen him rush to the body on the bed? Had he seen his older brother abandon him? God Dean hoped not. The thought sickened him, and made him push on the gas pedal just a little harder.
Jim sat in the passenger side, stealing quick looks at the man next to him. A million prayers jumbled through his head, coming as fast as his panicked mind would allow. One for a safe journey to the motel as they were driving at a dangerous speed as it was. One for the safety of Sam, who he knew was in big trouble and probably in a great amount of pain. One for the soul next to him, who he knew was in the same place as Sam as far as Hell went.
The car roared through the parking lot, and barely stopped in front of the room. Dean almost snapped the keys as he yanked them from the ignition, and was soon running to the room. He wasn't sure how he was going to help his brother, he didn't even know where to begin, but he thought for now he'd take things one at a time.
Pastor Jim glanced at the large black truck parked next to the car, and for a moment he couldn't move. Then, as fast as his body would allow, he was out of the car and right behind Dean. This was not going to be pretty.
Dean threw the door open and stared in shock at the man standing before him.
"Hey son," the figure said quietly, standing from his seat on the bed.
"You son of a-" Dean yelled as he launched forward and threw his fist out, letting it connect with his father's face. John's head snapped sideways and he stumbled back, falling onto the bed. He lay in shock only for a moment before jumping back to his feet.
Pastor Jim jumped between the two men in that instant, trying to keep them from killing each other.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" John screamed, not even noticing the quiet rage in front of him.
"John, please, just-" before Jim could continue, he watched as Dean collapsed onto the bed behind him, his breath coming out in great gasps. John went to grab him, but Jim held him back.
"Go outside for a moment, I'll be right there." When John made no move to leave, Jim tried again. "Now."
John clenched his jaw and balled his fist, but turned to leave the room.
"Dean?" Jim asked, quietly walking up to his side. He had almost been relieved to see Dean's anger, and knew he would be able to work with him on getting Sam back. Now it looks as if they had taken four steps backwards.
"Dean?" Jim tried again when he received no answer. Dean just shook his head, and let his eyes close.
"I need a minute."
"All right, I'm going to go outside and have a talk with your father. Dean, we're going to make it through this. You need to understand that right now."
Once again Dean remained silent. Jim sighed in frustration and quietly turned to leave.
Stepping out onto the old cracked concrete in front of the motel room, Jim spotted John leaning on his truck, rubbing his jaw. A small amount of dried blood caked at the edge of his mouth, and he had a nice bruise beginning to form. As soon as he saw the Pastor step out of the room, he rushed him.
"What the hell was that? What's going on? Does this have something to do with that damned Circle of Solomon you asked about using?"
Jim remained silent, letting the questions roll off of him like beads of water.
Finally, when John had fallen silent, he recounted the past few hours of events.
"So I don't know the whole story, I just know this demon is now in Sam's body, and Sam is…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish.
"In Hell," John stated quietly.
"John, we don't know that."
"Give me a break Jim, we both know it. Now I'm going to go in there-"
"You'll do no such thing."
"Jim, that boy has to know he can't go around punching people. It's disrespectful and he knows better."
"John, you go in there, you may just lose both of your sons. Now listen to me, I need you to go out and track down Sam. LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY," he said, his tone low and threatening. "Do not make contact with him. Just find him. We need to do this carefully, or we could lose Sam forever."
"What do you expect me to do when I find him? I'm not just going to lay low-"
"Yes you will! By the time you find him, I will have a plan."
John was getting tired of getting interrupted, tired of getting pushed around already, and tired of the man in front of him taking charge when that's what he should be doing.
He made move to step past the elder man in front of him, but took a step back when Jim jumped in his way.
"John, there's a whole hell of a lot of things going on here that you have no clue about. Please, just go find the demon who has possession of Sam. I'm going to go talk to Dean, we're going to need him for this fight. I swear John, if you value the lives of your sons, you will listen to me on this one. You cannot help them right now, they need each other for that."
John looked directly into his friend's eyes, and didn't see a hint of sarcasm or laughter. All he saw was a stone cold truth, and it bathed him in ice.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Why them Jim? Why them?" was all he could say as he turned to get into his truck.
Not knowing the answer, Jim watched with a heavy heart as the eldest Winchester drove away. He hoped John would remember what he had said, and not throw it all out the minute he saw his son. He turned back towards the open motel door and stepped inside. Dean lay where he had left him, staring at the ceiling. He barely moved, and didn't acknowledge the new presence in the room.
"Dean," Jim said softly. He had no clue how he was going to fix the wreck in front of him. Dean had been fighting, angry, mad. The moment he had laid eyes on his father, he spiraled out of control.
Dean just wanted the whole world to go away. The moment he had seen his father, burning putrid anger consumed his already frayed hold on reality, causing him to lash out. He hadn't realized what he had done until it was too late, until he had actually hit his father. But damn it had felt so good.
He was vaguely aware of Jim pushing his father out of the door, vaguely aware of the arguing that could be heard through the paper thin door. All he could feel was hurt.
He needed his brother, needed him worse than he thought he ever could. Sam leaving for college had left a small empty whole in his heart, one he felt every day. He never allowed that to be known to the rest of the world, that was not what Dean Winchester was all about. But it was different then, Sam had left by choice.
He had been out in the world, living, having fun, doing what geek boys do.
This time was different. Sam had been torn from this world, torn out of Dean's grasp, and now they would never get him back.
Jim was back, standing over him, saying his name. He wished the world would just go away. He wanted to lay in torment, consumed with the grief that was slowly killing him inside. He wanted to be with Sam. In Hell if he had to.
Jim was still saying his name, this time he was sitting beside him. He just wished the world would go away.
"Dean, we need you. If we're going to save Sam, you've got to help. So I want you to stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Sam isn't lost to us yet. But every moment you lay there, the chance of bringing him back slims!"
The anger-laced words penetrated his fog, driving it away. The anger was back.
Here he was, the big brother, and he was wallowing in self pity and guilt while his brother was being tortured God knows where.
He hated himself for being weak, hated himself for leaving Sam. He hated himself.
Jim smiled as he saw the light spark back into Dean's eyes. He hadn't wanted to resort to anger, to accusations; God knows what it was doing Dean in the long run. But they needed the hunter now and that was the only way he could think of to grab his attention.
"Have any plans?" Dean asked as he sat up.
Jim didn't want to give Dean false hope, but he didn't want to crush him either. The truth was, Jim didn't have any plans. This was a new one.
"Well, there's still got to be hope, right?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, think, what happens during an exorcism?"
"You send an evil son of a bitch to hell."
"Right. Is Sam evil?"
Dean's head perked up. "No…"
"Exactly. So we had to have sent him somewhere. And just like Constance, we probably didn't truly kill him."
"So you think we can get him back."
"Exactly. I could just take the spell, alter it a bit, and bring him back."
"So what happens when we bring him back? He'll be a spirit again?"
"Well, if my theory is correct and this all works out the way I think it will, I think we need his body. We'll need the demon to send back."
"You sound as if you're making this up as you go along."
"I kind of am," the older man admitted, laughing softly. He was surprised when Dean returned the small laugh.
"I can't tell you what it means to me that you're doing this for me, for us, for Sam."
Jim knew gratitude didn't come easy from Dean. The boy was used to taking care of things on his own, not needing anyone's help, especially when it came to Sam. The small statement reminded Jim of the seriousness of the situation. "Think nothing of it. You boys are family."
Dean smiled again.
-SN-
He wanted to cry. Everything hurt so badly. He was so cold. He was so scared.
He wanted so badly to cry, to lash out, to do something. Nothing would come out. He couldn't make a sound. He tried to huddle inside himself even more. He didn't know why he was there. He didn't know how he'd gotten there.
Dean had run away from him…Dean had left him…
He couldn't stop the play of images in front of him. He knew Dean hadn't left him.
He knew Dean wouldn't. Something else had happened. It had to have. But the sight of Dean running away from him when he'd be thrown into that circle haunted his thoughts.
He tried to reason with himself, tried to get a bearing on where he was, but he couldn't seem to think past the pain. He no longer felt physical pain. All the hurt consuming him was coming from his own soul, his heart; everything was being torn in two.
He wanted to die.
-SN-
Tick tock tick tock tick tock…
Dean thought he was going to go crazy. The clock on the wall ticked away mercilessly, reminding Dean that they were running out of time. He tried to keep his mind off Sam, tried to not think about what he must be going through. He tried to ignore the heavy burden of guilt that was upon him, making it hard to breathe. He tried so hard to quell the pain that was consuming him, ripping at his heart, wanting to shred the vital organ until he was dead.
Jim sat at the opposite side of the table from him, engrossed in one of his books. His fingers danced across the pages as he searched the endless paragraphs of Latin, the endless pages of incantations, while the endless ticks droned on behind him.
Dean lifted his heel off the floor and began to shake his leg so his heel barely tapped the floor in a frantic pace. He didn't realize he was even doing it until Pastor Jim glared at him from above the glasses perched on the end of his nose.
The shaking immediately stopped, stilling the table. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed in annoyance. Another glare.
"I'm sorry, it's just, I can't take all of this sitting around!" Dean said, jumping to his feet. He began to pace the room, feeling like a caged animal. "I should be out here, helping to look for Sam."
Before Jim could reply Dean's phone rang. "Dad?"
"Yeah, Dean, Pastor Jim there?"
"Why?"
"I need to talk to him."
"You can talk to me."
"Damnit Dean, I need to talk to Jim."
"No."
"Don't make me hang up."
Suddenly afraid his father would, he thrust the phone at Jim with a scowl. Jim's eyes widened in surprise as he accepted the phone.
"John?"
"Yeah, I found Sam."
He sighed in relief. "Where?"
"He's at a local bar about 20 minutes from the motel."
"We need to-"
"He's killed someone Jim."
"John, you need to know that's not Sam."
"He's killed someone."
"John, stay with me. That's not Sam, that's a demon. I need you to wait until Dean and I get there, then we'll make plans."
"I'm headed your way."
"Wait, what?"
"I've got the demon and I'm headed back."
The phone went dead before Jim could reply.
"Get ready," Jim said, his eyes meeting with Dean's. "They're coming."
Dean's eyes widened, but he said nothing as he set to work. He looked at Pastor Jim with confusion as he was handed a sharpie and a picture of a Circle of Solomon.
"I don't think this," he said, gesturing to the sharpie, "is going to work on carpet."
"You can draw it on the ceiling," Jim replied, not taking his eyes from the book he had picked up.
Dean glanced up at the ceiling, then looked around the room for a chair. Nabbing the one he had been perched on moments ago, he climbed up and began to mark the ceiling. "It'll work up here?"
"Yep."
Dean continued to trace the pattern on the spackled ceiling as best he could. When he finished, he stepped down from the chair and looked up to inspect his work.
They heard the roar of a truck outside, and met each other's gazes nervously.
Show time.
"Dean, I want you to prepare yourself. This demon will say anything to save her hide, and she's going to target you. No matter what she says, no matter how mad she makes you, you just remember two simple things."
"What's that?"
"Sam's not in there. He's not trapped within his body, so what we're going to do is not, and I repeat not, going to hurt him. Second, we're doing this so we can get him back. Do you think you can make it through this?"
Dean clenched his teeth together as he thought about it. His jaw began to ache and he released the tension, letting a small sigh out. "I'll do anything to have Sam back."
Jim grabbed the chair Dean had been using and placed it in the middle of the room. Going over to the bed, he scooped up the rope from where it lay discarded on the carpet.
"I could use some help out here," came John's voice through the door. Steeling himself for what he was about to see, Dean went out into the parking lot. There, in the passenger side of his father's truck, sat an unconscious Sam, his forehead resting against the window. A small rivulet of blood laid a dark red trail from his temple, down his cheek, and underneath his jaw where it disappeared.
Dean rushed to his brother's side, catching himself before he jerked the door open. Jim's words floated in his head, giving him strength. Sam's not in there.
"Alright son," John said, not bothering to look at his oldest son. "I'll grab his arms, you grab his feet."
The two Winchesters stumbled under the dead weight of the youngest, but they managed to get him in the chair and tied down.
Dean stepped back and stared intently at his brother's head…it was just hanging…
"Dean?" Pastor Jim stepped up next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm ok. Let's do this."
"We're going to talk later about your new attitude Dean," John said, still angry about the punch earlier.
"Oh, what attitude? Or are you just mad that for once I didn't follow your orders?"
"Guys, enough, she's waking up."
Both Winchesters turned to see Sam's head rolling back and forth weakly on his shoulders. His head snapped up suddenly, black eyes searching the room.
"Oh crap," she said, her voice low and scratchy. It was neither Sam's nor Constance's voice.
"Constance?" Jim questioned.
"No, not quite," it screetched. "Constance was just the name for my host's body. You may call me Tui."
"What kind of name is that?" Dean taunted. "I don't think your parents liked you very much."
The thing hissed at him, twisting Sam's lips in a cruel smirk.
"Dean, quit playing and get over here." Dean turned at Jim's voice and walked over to join the two older men. "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to be standing on the south side of the demon, John on the north. John, you'll be reading this incantation," he continued, handing John a book, "which will call Sam's soul back. I'll be standing at the south end reading this, and exorcising the demon. Dean, you'll be ready with these," he finished, handing Dean a bottle of holy water and a shot gun filled with rock salt.
"Rock salt?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, the demon will soon be in spirit form…"
"So you think it'll work?"
"I told you I was making this up as we go along."
"Oh that's just beautiful," the demon grinned. "A family working together to save their precious Sammy. Brings tears to my eyes."
"Don't call him that," Dean said quietly. The demon's eyes snapped over, focusing on him.
"What's the matter Dean? Can't handle a little truth? Well, how about this?"
Dean gasped as his mind, body, and spirit was suddenly consumed with pain. Loneliness, abandonment, depression, anger, sadness…it all hit him at once. It was suffocating, the intense waves of pain that rolled over him like a merciless ocean. He gasped for air as large black spots swam in his vision.
"Son of a-" John cussed as he grabbed the vial of holy water from Dean's limp grasp and began to spray the demon with it. Smoke rose as the water touched Sam's arm and shoulder, and the demon hissed once again. The pain ceased instantly, and Dean sighed in relief.
Panting, the demon looked at Dean once again. "And you think your brother's weak. You couldn't handle five minutes of that…yet your brother has been feeling that the past what? Four hours?"
The revelation floored Dean. Was that what that was?
"Yes Dean," the demon answered, "all I did was link you with your brother."
"Enough," John growled, shoving the holy water back into Dean's hands. "We finish this now."
The two men began to read at once, their voices mingling and the incantations strangely began to mix together, almost harmonizing. Dean stood mesmerized as the Latin flowed, wrapping the room in a warm cocoon. All he wanted to do was collapse. Sam was...he felt...he couldn't...
Sam's chest began to convulse and the demon screamed. The chair creaked and groaned, almost sounding as if it were coming apart. The demon jerked, only being held up by the ropes securing it to the chair.
A black mist suddenly enveloped his brother's body, obscuring it from view. Dean craned his neck and fought to see within, but it was impossible. The sounds coming from the mist were not even human. But whatever was causing the sounds was in a whole helluva lot of pain, making Dean smirk. It died from his lips as soon as he heard Sam's voice added to the chaotic mist.
Within moments, the chanting stopped, the cocoon was gone, and the mist had vanished. Sam sat in the middle of the silent room, his head bowed. A thin column of blood escaped from his mouth, leaving a bloody pool in his lap.
"Sam?" Dean whispered as he took a tentative step forward.
"Dean, don't," John warned.
Sam gasped, and began to cough, creating a deep rattling in his chest. His head jerked up, and he looked around the room with unfocused eyes. "Dean?" The voice was so small, filled with so much pain.
"I'm comin' man," Dean cried out as he lurched towards his brother. Sam's head dropped again and his body began to shudder. Alarm growing at an increasing rate, Dean worked fast at the ropes bounding Sam to the chair. "Dad, help me!"
Wasting no time, John leapt into action and began to work on Sam's other side. Soon both men had lowered the bloody and bruised body to the ground. Sam's hand was fisted in Dean's shirt, his eyes pleading with him. "Don't…don't…oh God…don't leave me…"
"I'm not Sammy, I'm not."
"It…hurts-" Sam was cut off as another round of coughs shook his body.
"We have to get him to the hospital," Dean stated, glancing at the other two men, daring them to protest.
"Dean, we-Sam!" John yelled as Sam began to cough more, bloody drops spewing from his lips and blanketing his face and neck. His eyes widened and his body stiffened.
"We're going to the hospital, now."
Ok, and onto the next one. I also wrote this before BUABS, but I think I like how they did Sam's possession more than I did. ;)
