As much as I've had fun writing this, I'm really glad to be posting this last chapter! (If FF lets me post it that is- I think this site hates me) Thanks so much for your comments and for reading! Muchly appreciated :) Take care!
CHAPTER TEN
Bobby pulled his truck into the motel's car park closely followed by the Impala. When they stopped he swung open his door and jumped from the cabin, jogging through the drizzle to help Dean with Sam. Ruby took her time, sliding from the truck and leaning against it a moment before closing her door. Bobby speared her with a look and she rolled her eyes, face stormy. They hadn't spoken a word during their brief drive, and she'd sat stiff as a post in the passenger seat while he'd gripped the wheel, his palms clammy.
"Inside," he ordered now, carefully supporting Sam while Dean rushed to unlock the door and clear Sam's bed.
Ruby didn't reply, just watched silently as Dean returned and took his brother under the arms, holding him to his chest like he would a child.
Bobby grabbed Sam's feet and lifted them off the ground, helping to relieve some of the weight for Dean. He could see Dean wincing, and noted the beads of sweat that perched upon his brow. "How's the shoulder?" he asked gently as they moved through the door.
Dean barely acknowledged the question, kicking a pile of clothing out of the way as they approached Sam's bed. "Put him on his back."
Bobby stretched Sam's long legs right to the edge of the mattress, while Dean carefully arranged a pillow behind his lolling head. The older brother placed a hand upon Sam's forehead and attempted to unstick some of the bloody, singed hair. He leaned over and whispered something, but his words were destined for Sam's ears and Sam's ears only, and Bobby missed them entirely. Sam's shirt was blackened and torn in patches, with blood staining every area of exposed skin and mud caked across his trousers and boots. Bobby ran a hand over his tired eyes and bit back the grimace that was threatening to crack across his features, laying a hand upon Sam's forearm before moving it to settle briefly upon Dean's back.
Dean was still trembling, and blood stained his shirt both at the front and back where the bullet had passed through his shoulder. Bobby was worried about the amount of blood Dean had lost, but knew that trying to talk sense into him was futile right at this point. Sam first, Dean would no doubt insist. Ever since they were kids, Dean had always taken care of his brother before himself. It was always going to be his undoing, Bobby realized morosely, turning his eyes to the doorway and realizing disapprovingly that Ruby hadn't entered the room. He pushed away from Dean, heading towards the open door. Spray from the rain was blowing across the threshold.
He stepped outside, half pulling the door behind him.
Ruby leaned against a wall, staring out to the car park.
Bobby wasn't in the mood to have his patience tested. "When I said 'inside', it wasn't an option. Now get in there and do whatever the hell it is you do, and make Sam well again."
Her eyes met his. They were black as night.
"I'm not going to repeat myself." He stepped closer.
She didn't move.
"I swear to God, if you're even considering arguing with me on this-"
Her expression became colder, and she shifted ever so slightly.
Bobby clenched his fists. "You fix that boy."
She dropped her gaze, her head shaking slowly.
He seized her by the front of her shirt and rattled her. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Now fix Sa-"
"I can't."
Her words dropped like stones to the ground.
Bobby continued to hold her by the shirt, eyes tracing her features for any sign that she was lying.
"That's bullshit," he said, despite the fact that her expression held nothing but painful honesty. He clenched his jaw and felt his muscles spasm with frustration. "Of course you can fix him. You will." He slammed her against the wall.
This time she fought back, her arms coming up swiftly to knock him from her. She drew herself upright and regained her composure, regarding him threateningly. Her chest heaved and her eyes smouldered, her gaze holding something more than anger; a hint of sadness, perhaps.
Bobby glared at her, trying to read her expression. Demons lie. They're all the same. Don't be fooled. She's lying.
But she wasn't.
"I know you don't believe me," she said after a moment, her voice raw. "But through all of this, I've told you nothing but the truth." She shook her head, agitated. "If you weren't so fucking bent on killing me like every other evil thing you've hunted, maybe you'd see that I'm trying to help you." Her eyes bored into his.
Bobby turned away. "That's bullshit," he said again. Then he spun back to face her. "You're a demon. What do you expect me to do?"
This time she was the one who turned away, her expression cold. "Sam has darkness in him, you saw that today, yet you still believe he's different."
"What, you're saying I should think of you the way I think of Sam?" Bobby was fuming. "Don't you dare even suggest that I make that comparison. You have nothing on that boy."
"I wasn't suggesting that!" The words broke from her lips and strained as they hung in the air. She shifted irritably, brushing at the mud and blood still clinging to her face. "I don't want to see Sam die. Hell, I don't want to see Dean die either. If they die then we've got no hope of winning this."
Bobby watched her carefully. "Why on earth would you want to help us?" He didn't understand, and surely she had to see that her helping them was a ridiculous concept.
"Because," she said after a heartbeat. "If I'm not for you, then I'm against you." Her shoulders slumped slightly. "And if I'm against you, then I'm with them." She shook her head. "I don't want to be with them. I hate them. I have my reasons."
Bobby's fists were still clenched, but he resisted the urge to pound her.
She folded her arms, hugging herself. "I can't fix Sam," she said again. "I would if I could, but I can't." She pinned him with a sorry look before turning to stare through the gap in the open door to the motel room.
Bobby followed her gaze. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He shifted so that he could see further into the room. Dean was bent over his brother, tending Sam's wounds with agonizing care and completely ignoring the debate that was taking place not twenty feet from him.
Ruby shoved her hands in her pockets and stared out to the car park again. "Sam should be dead."
Bobby shot his gaze to settle upon her back as she turned away from him.
"What happened back there," she continued. "It should have killed him."
But it didn't. Bobby shifted uncomfortably.
She nodded, as if hearing his thoughts, and turned back to face him. "Sam used the darkness within him to fight for his brother. He overcame the odds and went all vigilante. It was suicide, and yet he did it. He did it, and yet… he's not dead."
Bobby raised a brow.
"He's holding onto something." She tilted her head towards the room. "He's holding onto someone." She straightened her shoulders. "And he's a Winchester, which means he's too stubborn to let go." A small laugh broke her lips, but her expression remained grave. "I'm not the one who can pull him out of wherever he is. You've got to believe me. Only Sam can fix himself now, and the person he's holding onto is his brother." She shook her head. "It's always been his brother."
Bobby felt himself fidgeting. The sensible thing to do would be to reject what she was saying and find a way to end her. Hell, he could end her right now. All he had to do was remember that she was the one who'd brought this situation about in the first place. Because it's easier to blame her than it is to blame yourself, his conscience chided. He stepped towards the door, blocking the path into the room. "You realize you've just dug your own grave," he told her, his tone unforgiving.
She didn't meet his eyes.
"You're telling me you can't fix Sam, and then there's the issue of that knife of yours and the fact that it doesn't seem to work on all demons." He paused. "You say that you want to help us, but you have nothing to offer."
She drew her knife and turned it in her hands. Bobby watched as the blade caught the light.
"Actually," she said. "I can offer you something."
Her eyes finally met his, and Bobby raised a brow.
"I know about the colt." She watched him carefully, but his expression didn't change. "I can fix it."
"I seriously doubt that."
"Doubt all you like but as it stands, the odds are against you. You'd be wise to take me up on the offer."
"I'd be wise not to listen to you at all." He stepped forward.
She didn't budge. "I can also find out who holds Dean's contract."
Bobby felt his blood freeze.
"I have my suspicions," she admitted. "All it would take is a couple of questions, a bit of time. I could have the answer for you."
"We don't exactly have a bit of time."
"I'd best be on my way then."
He glared at her. There was every chance it was a lie. In fact, she was probably lying. But… there was also a chance she was telling the truth, too.
"If Sam dies," he jabbed a finger at her. "It'll be you that I come for."
She barely flinched under the threat.
"Unless Dean gets to you first," he corrected. "In which case, I'll not envy you. You'd better pray he doesn't get to you first."
"I'm really scared," she replied, trying to act tough.
"You should be damned well scared."
"God, is there anything else?"
Bobby felt his knuckles tingle. "Yes," he said, and swung his fist hard at her jaw.
She stumbled back, gaping. A small amount of blood trickled from a crack in her lip and she dabbed at it lightly.
"Don't you dare come near these boys again." Bobby's words were like poison. "If you need to talk, you come to me. And even then, don't bother turning up unless you can give me the name of the demon responsible for Dean's deal." He stepped back towards the door. "If I decide I want some help fixing the colt, I'll let you know. Otherwise you stay the hell out of our way."
He grasped the handle and pushed the door open. Briefly, he glanced over his shoulder and looked at Dean. "Do we have an understanding?" He turned his glare back to Ruby.
She was no longer there.
Drizzle hissed and swirled in the wind, collecting in droplets along the gutter and tearing free to spatter over the concrete where she'd stood. He did a quick visual sweep of the area, but she was nowhere to be found.
Son of a bitch…
He turned quickly and stepped into the room, jerking the door closed behind him. It slammed loudly, and Dean raised his eyes in a questioning half-glare.
Bobby ran a hand through his hair, before proceeding to grab scattered articles of clothing off the floor and stuff them into bags. "We can't stay here," he declared, ignoring the way Dean was looking between him and the door. "I'll take a look at your shoulder, and then we'll get Sam into the car." They needed to find another motel.
Dean shook his head fiercely. "I'm not moving Sam. He's not fit to travel."
Bobby was about to argue that they didn't have a choice, but Sam's arm twitched, and the boy groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
Dean was beside him in an instant, and Bobby didn't hesitate to rush to the bedside.
Sam was blinking rapidly, his breath coming in jagged gasps.
"Sam-!" Concern mixed with relief as Dean leaned over his brother.
"Don't be such a jerk, Dean…" the younger slurred, wincing and squeezing his eyes closed again. "Let him look at your shoulder." He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon Bobby. "Hey Bobby," he wheezed.
Bobby felt his words clamp in his throat, and he barely managed a nod.
Sam turned back to Dean. "What…? Don't give me that look." He winced again. "Don't want you to bleed to death on my behalf..."
Dean bowed his head, letting out a choked, little laugh.
Bobby reached down and brushed a stray piece of muddy hair from Sam's brow, feeling an immeasurable amount of relief at seeing Sam's eyes back to their normal colour.
"It's good to see you, boy," he said gently.
Sam just sucked in a shaky breath, and nodded back.
"Damned good to see you," Dean corrected, snagging his brother's hand and squeezing in firmly, subtly banishing stray tears from his eyes.
As the road rolled beneath them, Dean risked a glance at his brother who was sprawled across the back seat of the Impala with one of the motel's pillows scrunched beneath his head. Once Sam had been filled in on the situation, he'd sided with Bobby and had agreed that they should move on from the town, and Dean hadn't had the heart to argue since Sam had seemed keen on the idea. He'd reluctantly allowed Bobby to take care of his shoulder, before they'd wrapped Sam in blankets and piled him into the car. Now they'd been on the road just under an hour, with Bobby following closely behind, and Dean found himself checking the rear view mirror every so often for the simple reassurance that Sam was still there.
Far too much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, and when Dean thought about it, his stomach threatened to cave in. He wasn't sorry to be leaving the town and the lake, and the nightmare of their most recent job. He didn't know or care what had happened to Matt, and in terms of where Ruby had gone to, he couldn't really give a shit. Sam was alive and that was all that mattered. The fact that Sam had been practically dead, as far as he was concerned, was no longer up for discussion. The fact that Sam had become so 'un-Sam' was also a topic that he no longer wished to dwell upon.
"It's okay, dude." Sam's shaky voice floated up and over the front seat. "I'm not about to go anywhere… You don't need to keep checking on me."
Dean was startled that Sam was even awake. He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Oh, I was just checking that Bobby's still following us."
There was a heavy silence. The lie was obvious.
After a while Sam said, "Is he?"
"Eh?"
Sam shifted slightly, wincing under his breath. "Is he still following us?"
Dean cleared his throat again, trying to resist the urge to turn in his seat and check on Sam more closely. They'd given Sam painkillers, but after what he'd been through, Dean seriously doubted they'd be much help. Bobby had tried to shove some down his throat too, but he'd refused. He wasn't going to take that risk again; not with Sam, not with his car.
"Yeah, he's still following us," Dean finally replied.
Sam breathed out heavily. "That's good to hear."
There was another heavy silence, this one stretching for a good minute or two. Dean absently tapped the wheel as he drove, watching the trees blur by in a parade of dark green and brown. The fog had lifted slightly, but light rain continued to streak the windshield. He was shivering, even though it wasn't overly cold.
"Are you okay?" Sam's voice was very small, very strained.
Dean almost laughed. Was he okay? Was he okay? No he was not freakin' okay. He was rattled, and numb, and he'd come too God damned close to re-living his worst fucking nightmare. "I'm…" he started, but couldn't quite finish the sentence.
They rounded a corner and a small lake was visible through the trees. Even though they were miles away from the lake Sam had almost drowned in, the sight still clamped upon Dean's heart and squeezed until he felt like it would burst.
He shifted in his seat, averting his eyes and wiping sweat from his brow. "I should be asking you that, Sammy," he said. "God…I mean, seriously. You've been through hell."
The word 'hell' wasn't one they used lightly. Dean realized his bad choice of vocabulary as soon as it had passed his lips, and he cleared his throat again, as if trying to erase it.
But Sam was either too out of it, or really didn't notice the mistake. "You're not getting sick are you?"
Dean opened his mouth, startled again that Sam seemed more concerned about him than he was for himself. "I… I'm fine, Sammy, never been better." He hoped the sarcasm wasn't too obvious.
Sam seemed reasonably content with the answer, and whispered something along the lines of, "Good."
Dean returned his concentration to driving, though his mind was screaming all sorts of horrible things that he really didn't want to think about; like the fact that Sam had been just slightly terrifying, with black eyes and blisters from holy water and crazy, scary powers that had totally annihilated another demon and almost wiped him out as well.
Dean's knuckles were white, his palms clammy. That hadn't been his brother. That hadn't been his brother.
That had been his brother.
Again his stomach did its caving in trick, almost folding him in half with the urge to be sick.
God, he'd had to tie Sam to a bed. He hadn't known what to do. And now Sam was back to normal; battered and bloody like something that had been chewed up by hell and vomited out again, but normal. Whatever the fuck normal is, Dean found himself thinking.
Shaking and slightly dizzy, he passed a hand over his burning eyes and rubbed them angrily. The road continued to roll beneath them, infuriating in its monotony.
Sam shifted again. "You stole this pillow for me."
Dean drew in an unsteady breath. "Yeah, I figured we wouldn't be going back there anytime soon."
Sam made a noise that was halfway between a groan and a chuckle.
Dean shot a look into the rear view mirror again, out of reflex.
A hand wobbled into view. "Not going anywhere, remember," Sam said jerkily.
Dean tore his eyes away. "Yeah," he replied quickly. "I know. I'm sorry man, I'm just…" He hated all the words that came to mind. "A little shaken up," he admitted finally, chewing his lip after he said it.
Sam didn't reply.
There was a lot of emotion, rising rather rapidly, and Dean didn't want to deal with it. But once it had started, it was too hard to push back down, and before he knew it he was stumbling over sentences, unable to stop.
"I thought you were dead," he blurted. "I mean, I could have sworn you were dead. But then you weren't dead and you were fighting whatever the hell had possessed Giles, and you were in my head, telling me you were sorry and that you needed to protect me, and I saw you surrounded by fire and there was a big explosion, and… Jesus Sam I thought I'd lost you..." He shook his head, gulping in half breaths. "I thought I'd lost you," he said again, stopping before he launched into how angry he'd been that Sam had sacrificed himself for someone who was destined to die in less than a year anyway. "It nearly killed me, damn it." His eyes were swimming in tears but he refused to let them fall. "I'm not angry. I'm just… scared." The realization was excruciatingly painful. "I don't understand what happened today, and a part of me isn't sure that I want to." He blinked rapidly, gritting his teeth and setting his jaw. His heart pounded against his ribcage, threatening to burst from his chest.
There was half a mile of awkward silence, before Sam finally broke it.
"I thought I'd lost you too," the younger man said.
When Dean began to argue, Sam cut him off.
"I'm not talking about when the demon was trying to kill you," he continued, his voice raspy and straining from the effort of speaking. "I'm talking about afterwards."
Dean held up a hand, indicating the conversation could wait. He hadn't meant to distress his brother. He felt guilty for having vented so much.
But Sam brushed him off, saying he was fine. "This is important," he wheezed, and Dean swallowed roughly and bit his tongue.
Sam coughed breathlessly, chasing his voice. "I heard what you said to me, when you and Bobby carried me back into the motel room."
Dean furrowed his brow, and felt his cheeks flush slightly. He'd thought Sam had been unconscious.
"Up until that point, I thought I'd lost you too." Sam coughed again.
Dean opened his mouth, but found that he was lost for words.
"Do you remember what you said?" Sam's coughing subsided and was replaced by strained, jagged breathing.
Dean's eyes lifted to the rear view mirror and hovered there a moment, before he returned them to the road. Of course he remembered. He'd said, "I'm gonna get you through this, Sammy. No matter what, you're still my brother."He nodded slowly.
"It meant a lot," Sam said after a moment, his words hanging in the air long after he'd spoken them.
Dean felt a lump swell in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it back down.
"Thankyou." Sam's voice was beyond exhausted.
Dean nodded more jerkily. "Sure," he said, his own voice hoarse.
And the road swam slightly, as he steered them around another bend. He looked for a lake through the trees, but this time there was none.
Bobby was a mess. He'd managed to hold himself together reasonably well, but now that he was alone there was nothing stopping him from coming apart. He took his cap off and tossed it to the seat beside him, running a hand through his hair and inhaling deeply. The Impala was a few car lengths ahead of him, flying along the country roads under the glare of the mid-afternoon sun as it tried to shine through the clouds. He was rattled and bone-weary, with the smell of singed hair still burning his nostrils. His eyes were red and sore, and his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the wheel. The day's events were beginning to settle in his mind and he found himself feeling incredibly sad. He was relieved beyond belief that Sam seemed okay, but he couldn't escape the fact that Giles had died as a result of being caught up in everything. The events of the past twenty-four hours had been absolutely horrific.
Once again, thanks to demons, his world had been shaken about and flipped upside-down.
He couldn't help but feel that lately, all they ever did was move from one battle to the next. It was like they were digging themselves deeper into the ground. Dean was on death row, and Sam, well, God only knew what was going on with him. It was like they were on a downwards spiral, and there was no way to get any footing. It was almost as if they were fighting something they just weren't meant to win, but they fought anyway because they didn't know what else to do. It was growing more and more difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel, or even find any hope at all. But Bobby felt an overwhelming responsibility towards Sam and Dean, and if there was any reason for him to keep fighting, it was to look out for them. Even if he couldn't save them, he couldn't give up trying.
Reaching over, he scooped his cap from where it rested upon the seat and returned it to his head. He gripped the wheel tighter and attempted to chase some of the trembling from his hands. He had no idea where Dean was headed, but he figured they'd stop when they got tired of driving. They'd find another motel, bundle Sam inside, and try to sort this whole mess out.
It was frightening, but they'd sort it out.
Just like they always did.
Sam was far from alright, but he was alive and perhaps that was all that mattered. He lay uncomfortably across the back seat of the Impala, feeling every bump in the road and trying not to cry out as his battered body protested at the movement. He felt as though he'd been torn apart, and haphazardly thrown back together again. He felt like Frankenstein's monster.
He felt like an aching pile of fractured bones.
He shifted sightly, pulling his arm from under him and bringing his hand to where he could see it. He bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes closed, hating the way he couldn't focus without feeling dizzy. The cut in his shoulder still burned and fire continued to smoulder within him, but it wasn't as intense as it had been. He furrowed his brow, feeling sweat begin to break his skin as he concentrated.
Small sparks began to dance between his fingers, hypnotizing and beautiful, and he re-opened his eyes to stare at them.
There was power within him. He could feel it churning like clouds in a storm. It was the same power that had surrounded him in the dark place he'd been transported to every time he'd lost consciousness; the same dark place Dean's words had pulled him from when he'd been convinced there was no way home.
It was power that could kill demons. It was power that he could use to his advantage. He thought about Dean and his deal, and found himself staring more intently at the sparks lighting his fingers. It only takes one spark to start a fire, he thought absently, narrowing his eyes and balling his hand into a fist.
He needed to find the demon that held Dean's contract. If he could find that one demon, he could set everything right.
He looked up at the back of Dean's seat. It was ironic, really. Matt had been willing to do anything to get rid of his brother.
He was willing to do anything to save his.
The end.
For now :)