RTC Chapter 10

"You made a deal at the cross roads right? I figured that much out." Sam realised that he was watching a scene from over fifty years ago. The bus came trundling along the road, dust kicking up as the wheels spun.

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"So how did you get out of it?" Sam demanded.

McAllister grinned. "Watch." He winked. "And you will see."

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"No one ever found them. They stayed alive for a few hours 'til they ran out of oxygen." McAllister seemed to glide over towards the edge of the road to stand beside Sam. "They suffocated. And all because of an earthquake.

Just sheer. Bad. Luck."

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He slowly turned to face Sam, blue sockets seeming to wink at him again.

The sun slid quickly down the sky and night fell almost instantly, and Sam knew there was more to come.

There came a cold silence.

"Another deal was struck."

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"You people know him as Lucifer." The blue in his sockets flared slightly.

Sam gaped in sheer astonishment.

"When he heard what Azazel had done he was furious. You see, my boss won't be challenged for the leadership. He is hell's leader. The fallen one, who once sat by the right hand of God." He pretty much spat that last word out in disgust. "And you don't get much higher than that.

There's only one Lucifer; there's no room for two at the top!"

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"They've been trying for ten minutes to bring him back." Dean got up and strode over to the other bed. "I'm going in after him."

Bobby gaped. "You can't be serious! Dean, don't be stupid!"

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Before Dean could get to his feet he heard his brother cry out in pain. Finally able to look up, Dean's eyes widened fearfully.

The Driver had his hand buried deep in Sam's chest, clutching at his heart as Sam writhed in agony; at the same time he was being dragged towards the coach.

"I know you got soul, Winchester!"

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There are at least two kinds of fighter, warrior, call it what you will.

There's peace. It is tightly controlled emotion. There are no quiet, calm waters flowing through some meadow, with doves cooing softly in the bows of an ancient oak tree.

But it's as close as it gets.



Temper doesn't come into it, feeling holds no assault. There's reason, thought and measure. And, under the correct controlled conditions, it can annihilate.

But those conditions rarely arise when needed.

There's anger. Still controlled emotion, but with frighteningly less constraint, that is liable to give way any second. And when it does?

It packs a lethal punch. The difference is temper gets a say with this fighter, not to imply that it's ever a democracy to start with. Never kid yourself with that one.

If complete control is lost, as is likely, the consequences are devastating.

Then there's the third. It's where the peace and anger, held on two opposite ends of the world, the universe, start their journey. They don't know each other that well, having not been through the formal introductions. But as anger builds on one side of the scale, peace grows on the other.

And it's where they meet in the middle that it gets interesting; it's where the fighter realises the truth.

He realises he can win.

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"Sam!" Dean yelled out desperately when he saw his brother deep in agony, being dragged to the coach. "NOOOOOO!"

Sam had the presence of mind to whisper a message. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"Romanum..."

And Dean heard him. He heard him and started to recite.

As soon as the words left his brother's mouth, Sam realised!



He realised he could win.

Had to win.

All his peace, love, his anger, all the fear, dread and loss, met in the middle at the point marked I've had e-fucking-nough! Adrenaline pounded through him, tightened his muscles, tightened his resolve, heightened his strength. And it poured out of him in a rush of power, likened to a Harrisburg Reactor on melt-down.

Dean knew it the second he saw the gleam in Sam's eyes.

This could get really bad.

He wasn't far off in his estimation.

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Sam reached up, grabbed The Driver's wrist and twisted. The limb came off in his hand and Sam dropped it immediately before wrapping his hand around McAllister's throat. He vaguely acknowledged the slimy, icy feeling and rammed the demon up against the coach door.

"Hear that?" Sam jerked his head in the direction of his brother. "That's Dean exorcising you, you bastard!"

The Driver gave him an incredulous look. "You really think that's gonna work? With someone like me?" He shook his head slightly and smiled. "Not likely my boy."

He threw out his remaining hand and Dean was flying through the air once more, to land with a painful groan further along the road.

Sam felt something stir within him. Something he hadn't felt since...Max.



He shook right down to his soul, as he gathered strength.

And finally...

...he let go.

The Driver smiled smugly.

"I told you, didn't I? You could easily defeat me!"

The Driver was crushed into the metal of the coach, and the battle commenced.

Sam felt the tug as he was drawn towards the bus, but hit out with his fist, smashing into The Driver's jaw. McAllister barely flinched, but what remained of his jaw bone fell apart with sickening ease.

Sam glared at him and The Driver somehow still managed to grin.

"Come and get me!"

As taunts went it really wasn't anything special, but it was enough to piss off Sam Winchester.

He made a decision, one that was about to really piss off his brother.

Sam stepped on board the coach. Hearing Dean's fearful yells, Sam turned and faced the captive audience. He wasn't entirely surprised to find that it went on forever. There were literally hundreds of victims here.

And now Sam understood. By taking souls on board the coach, The Driver had committed them to hell, because the bus itself was a part of hell.

"Go. You can all leave now. Just go."



Of course it couldn't be that simple. It never is.

And the passengers, decomposing faces set in an eerie grimace, turned on Sam, rising up, glaring, searching his eyes and tearing into him.

And Sam let them.

They couldn't be allowed off the coach.

He just let them.

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Dean glanced towards The Devil, who was watching with barely concealed glee.

Sam felt the power building, gathering strength as he fought against the damned. Anger warred with the peace within him once again, and he willed them to grab hold and spiral inwards, to work together. The fighting factions finally fell into submission as they listened to their commander.

Sam was now in complete control, and God help anyone who got in his way.

God help, indeed...

It was different to the explosion at the cemetery in Wyoming. Yeah, it was spectacular and scary, but it carried something else that was far more...intense.

Shock waves passed through all who were present, and the ground opened up, a huge crater appearing in the earth as the bus, with Sam still on board, plummeted downwards.



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It took Dean some time before he understood that it was Just. Pure. Sam.

Freaky Sam admittedly. But Sam nonetheless. He hadn't gone dark side.

Never could, never would.

And instead of clouds of black Dean found himself surrounded with all shades, some in colours and lights that blinded him, as the exorcism was complete.

It was over as quickly as it started.

The Driver was gone.

Dean heard and felt it all. The ground shook, the air became hard to breathe as ozone filtered through like an invading army. But when he'd seen Sam voluntarily embarking the coach, all he felt was anger and fear. He wanted to throttle his younger brother.

When the bus fell headlong into the enormous crater, Dean let loose an animal cry of anguish.

"SAMMY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He watched in despair as earth and rock tumbled towards the bus, covering it, burying it. The noise was horrendous; a mix of grumbling earth and shattering tarmac, complete with tearing metal and grinding as if the very Earth itself was being force fed a giant metal enema.

"Oh God Sam!" Dean whispered as he witnessed the damned bus being swamped by a river of rock and rubble.

He stood at the edge of the road in dumb silence, a thousand thoughts roaming his mind. Chief of which was would he be able to get Sam back?



There was no question. Sam was coming back one way or another.

He heard an amused chuckling and he spun round.

"Let me guess. This is what you had planned all along, right?" Dean asked angrily. "But why? What was the damn point of all this?"

Lucifer took out a mother of pearl cigarette holder. The end ignited and The Morning Star took a deep drag.

"Why? Because it amuses me of course." He blew the smoke out, and Dean could vaguely smell the tobacco. "I am..." He gave a twirl "...The Devil."

"Yeah, I get that!"

"So?" The Devil grinned at him at little hopefully. When he gained no response he sighed. "Oh, so the crap really starts here doesn't it!" He was pretty irritated by now. "You know, you humans are bloody unbelievable! Why 'im upstairs bothers putting so much faith in you is quite beyond me! The only reason I have anything to do with you lot is because it's so much fun to mess with you. But if I were him? I'd have abandoned you ungrateful bastards a long time ago!"



Dean was incredulous. "So-called God did abandon us. That's why we're in this damn mess!"

Lucifer sneered. "As much as it pains me to bring you this revelation hunter, but that's the wrong answer! He never abandoned humans. If he had, then hunters wouldn't have existed in the first bloody place. No, his only mistake was granting you...people...free will."

Dean fell silent as he considered that.

Lucifer nodded with grim satisfaction. "So it's finally sinking in is it? God gave you people freedom of choice, the ability to fight for that freedom, the ability to defend it!" He smirked. "And all you've done is throw it back in his face. Which is why he and I had a bit of a barney in the first place. He loved you above all else, including his faithful slaves. US!"

"What?!" Dean barked out, anger really getting a grip now. "He allowed my mother to be murdered, my father to give up his life for my worthless ass, and then..." He faltered, sadly.

The Devil studied him carefully. "Sam was taken. And then you made the choice to bring him back." He nodded thoughtfully, leaning in towards him conspiratorially. "Not that I wish to blow his trumpet...or any part of his anatomy come to that...but it wasn't down to God that your mother died. Or me even. But your father's death? Sam's? Yours? Now this is where the free will comes in. So listen carefully." He leaned back again, grinning smugly. 

"Your dad chose to give up his life for you. Jake chose to stab your brother." Giving a slight shake of his head, he finished with "Nothing to do with me mate. Or God."

"You honestly expect me to believe that God exists?" Dean growled, more than a little rattled.

"I don't expect you to believe anything. That's your choice." Lucifer's grin widened. "Though I can assure you he does. The irony eh?"

Dean didn't know what to say, and it wasn't because he had nothing to say. Just the opposite. He just didn't know what kind of order to put it all in. But chief among his thoughts was the overriding urge to shove that cigarette so far up Lucifer's ass that sparks would fly out of his nose.

And when he voiced that opinion sparks certainly began to fly.

As Dean faced off with The Devil, he was pretty sure it would be his last fight.

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Charge 300. Clear!

Sam felt the shocks spread through his body, and he writhed in pain.

He's back, finally!



Thank God. Now get him stabilised and let's get an x-ray of his chest. CPR might've caused more damage. Get that IV set up.

There was a brief pause.

Where's that number for the psychiatric ward? I had it here somewhere...oh yeah...

Brrrrriiiinnngggg

Yeah hi, I'm just calling to inform you that we're sending you a patient...yeah...uhuh...I know you're beds are full but believe me this guy really needs help now. Sure? I'll send him over ASAP. No...not a problem. He has his own straight jacket...yeah? That's great. His name? Dr Michaels. Yep.

Who am I?

I'm Dr Michaels.

Stop laughing!...It's not funny.

A brief whimper as the pleading started up.

Please don't turn me away...

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Sam felt the world shift as awareness gradually encroached. He heard the bleeping of the machines, and the muttering of voices, one of which he was pretty certain belonged to a rather freaked Dr Michaels. But as he became fully receptive, he realised that the voices were frantic.



His eyes snapped open.

"Dean?" He whispered.

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Author's notes:

Robert Lindsay still rules as Lucifer, though there was also a certain Alan Rickman feel in there somewhere, or is that just me?

Dear old Doc Michaels. Played by Matthew Perry perhaps?

This one is a little shorter than usual I know. I apologise for that, but sincerely hope you still enjoy the chapter.

Let me know my darlings, and many thanks for all your support so far.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.