Potty mouth warning in this chapter.
...
Sam was the first to recover his voice.
"Cas. There has to be another way…there just has to be." He looked at his brother. Dean's face was white, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He was trying to be strong, in the way that he always was. Sam could see right through him. Dean was terrified. There were no other words for it. He was terrified.
"No. It is the only way. The blade is designed to return Dean to Alastair, through any means possible. Either he spills his life blood on the blade, or he returns the blade to Hell. Either way, his soul goes back to Damnation."
"But a human can't just waltz into Hell! He won't get back out!" Bobby slapped his hand on the table. "I am not gonna sit here and let you two idjits send him back to the pit!"
"Well I don't want him going back either Bobby, and I damn well don't want him to die! I don't know what we are supposed to do here!"
"We find another way to deal with that damn knife then! You love to look shit up Sam, I have a library full of hell lore! Start looking boy!"
"I have told you, it will not be a simple thing…"
"Then help us Cas! Instead of repeating yourself over and over again, help us find an answer!"
"I told you what needed to be done Sam."
"Well it isn't acceptable! It's not going to happen! We are going to find another way! You can help, or you can watch, but either way, MY BROTHER IS NOT GOING BACK TO HELL!"
"I'm still here you know."
All eyes turned to Dean, who was still slumped in the recliner.
"I'm still here, and no one has bothered to ask my opinion on this. I'm the one this actually affects."
"Dean, you need to rest."
"Right Sam, because I could lay down and sleep right now. 'Cause why should I have any say in how all this goes down? I mean, it's not like it has anything to do with me right?" Dean's words dripped with sarcasm.
"Dean…"
"No, it's fine. I'll go hide back in the panic room." He stood, glared at them all for a moment, and stalked out of the room.
"I should go talk to him," Sam said quietly.
"Ya think?"
"I will go and seek answers. I will do my best to help find another way to resolve this problem." A rustle of wings, and Castiel was gone again. Bobby looked at the knife, still gleaming on the table where Castiel had left it.
"I have a curse box this will fit in. At least keep the damn thing outta Dean's hands for the time being. Don't wanna have to actually lock him in the panic room. The idea is to keep the demons out, not keep him in."
"Right. I'm going to go talk to him. Try and get him to at least attempt to rest."
"Good luck with that." Bobby wheeled himself out towards the kitchen, leaving Sam alone in the living room. With a heavy sigh, and a heavier heart, Sam headed towards the basement, trying to think of anything to say to Dean that wouldn't sound like a tired platitude or an empty promise.
...
Dean was under the covers, blankets pulled up over his head. He was freezing. The panic room wasn't known for warmth, and he was still just in boxers and a tee. Dean would've given a lot for a hoodie, sweat pants, and a warm pair of socks.
He shivered again, not sure if it was from the temperature or what he had just heard upstairs. After he got out, after Cas had pulled him from the pit, there was a long time where Dean fully believed he wasn't safe, that he would go back someday. Now that he had become accustomed to being top-side again, it was beginning to look like his earlier fears had been accurate. Alastair had even told him, warned him that he wasn't all there, that a piece of him was still in Hell. Dean hadn't wanted to believe him.
There was a sound nearby, and he peeked out of his blankets to see Sam coming into the room.
"Brought you some clothes. I know you gotta be freezing down here. Got an extra blanket too." Sam tossed the blanket on the bed, then set Dean's clothes on a nearby chair. "Brought you a hoodie, sweats and some socks. Although I can get fresh boxers and a tee if you wanna come up and shower."
"You are such a freaky psychic geek boy sometimes, I was just wishing for a hoodie." Dean snatched the hoodie off the chair and yanked it on, then the sweats and socks. "Oh that is so much better." He grabbed the extra blanket and spread it over the cot, then snuggled down into the covers. "Ah, warmth, sweet, sweet warmth." Sam smiled as Dean burrowed back under the blankets.
"I'm sorry you have to stay down here. You want me to get another cot and stay down here too?"
"No, I'm good…I just wish someone would tell me what happened. How the hell did we go from Kansas to South Dakota? What happened with the hunt? I don't even remember going to sleep, or even laying down, and next thing I know, I'm waking up here." Sam ran a hand down his face.
"Do we really have to talk about this right now? You haven't really slept in days, and you need the rest. Who knows what the next few days are going to be like."
"You're avoiding me. What the hell happened in Kansas, Sam?" Sam turned away from Dean.
"Not going to let this go huh?"
"Nope. Start talking." Sam sighed, ran a hand through his hair and plopped down in the chair nearest the cot.
"Well, yesterday morning when we got up, I could tell you hadn't slept. You looked like a zombie. I tried to convince you to stay at the motel and rest, but you weren't having it. So I did something stupid. I dropped a couple of Benadryl into the coffee you were drinking while we were walking back to the motel. When we got back, you sat on the bed and passed out a few minutes later, so I stripped you down to your boxers and tee shirt and covered you up." Dean glared at Sam for a moment, looked like he was going to say something, then gestured for Sam to continue.
"So I went to K State to do research on the hunt, which Castiel says was all a fake. I am not sure what he meant, he hasn't found it necessary to expand on that yet. When I came back, you were freaking out in the bathroom. Cas showed up and knocked you out, we dumped you in the Impala, and I drove like hell to get here." Dean said nothing, but noted that Sam wasn't meeting his eyes. He wasn't getting the full story.
"Freaking out how?"
"Just freaking out…like you were dreaming and you couldn't wake up. I couldn't wake you up. I tried. I think it had something to do with the Benadryl. And then when you did wake up it was like you didn't know me."
"There's still something you haven't told me. I can see it. It's written all over your face, and we should know by now that lying to each other always causes more problems. What aren't you telling me Sam? What the hell happened in that motel room?"
"Dean what does it matter? Nothing that happened was your fault ok? Can we just leave it?"
"No."
"Come on Dean!"
"No. Spill it Sam."
"Ok. Fine. I found you in the tub, you were running the shower head, water everywhere and you had the damn knife in your hands. When I say you were freaking out, I'm talking knees pulled up to your chest, rocking bath and forth and mumbling like a schizo freaked out. Ok? You were losing it! What more do you need to know?" Sam stood and started pacing around the panic room. "Then when I tried to get through to you, you shoved me and I landed on my back in the water. Then Cas showed up. Can we be done with this now? I don't really want to talk about it, and you really need to freaking sleep."
"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked the question so quietly, Sam almost missed it.
"What? No, no you didn't hurt me. I'm fine."
"You're fine?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Then who gave you the shiner?" Sam touched his cheek. He had completely forgotten that Dean had hit him. "I did that didn't I? I hurt you."
"No, Dean, look it wasn't you. You didn't know what you were doing. It's ok." It didn't feel ok to Dean.
"Sammy, tell me the truth. Did I do more than punch you?" Sam sighed again. Dean was like a dog with a bone, and he wasn't going to let this go.
"Dean. I don't blame you, it wasn't your fault and you couldn't help it, Cas says you were hallucinating, so really, it's not a big deal, and don't get worked up like you do, it's not like you meant to…"
"Meant to what Sammy? Spit it out dammit!"
"…try to kill me…"
"What?"
"I know you heard me."
"Sam…I tried…holy shit." Dean's jaw dropped, and he sat up on the cot, his face white, his eyes huge. "Sammy…"
"No. It wasn't you. My brother would never do anything like that. That damn knife? It's causing hallucinations. You were probably seeing a demon or something. The point is…"
"I almost killed you."
"No! The point is, Cas did get there in time. Everything is ok, I am ok, we are going to figure this mess out…"
"I deserve to go back." Sam stopped dead in tracks, shocked out of his pacing.
"What?! No you do not deserve to go back! How could you even think that?" Dean looked up at Sam, and a lone tear rolled down his cheek. Sam quickly moved to the cot, and wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders. His brother was shaking. "Dean. Cas, Bobby, and me, we are not giving up on you. We are gonna find a way to get your piece of soul back and put this behind us. Do you understand?" Dean made a noise like a muffled sob, and stared at the floor.
Sam slid to the floor and kneeled at Dean's feet, and looked up, determined to get Dean to meet his eyes. "Dean. Dean look at me. I mean it, look at me."
Green met hazel, and Dean was taken aback by the level of ferocity in his little brother's eyes.
"Listen to me, and listen good. I am not going to let you go back to the pit. Understand? I got this. We are not letting those fuckers win. We are the Winchesters remember? What's the only word feared in Hell? Winchester!" Dean gave Sam a watery smile.
"But…"
"No buts. We are going to win this! Understand…Jerk?" Dean couldn't help it, Sam's enthusiasm was catching.
"I understand. Bitch."
"Good. Now go to sleep dammit."
"Yessir!" Sam stood, and smiled down at Dean who had returned to his previous burrowed position. He was on his way out the door, when he heard Dean sleepily say, "Thanks Sammy."
"Anytime big bro. Anytime."
Sam headed up the stairs.
It was time to get to work.
...
just a quick note. if i use a run-on sentence, i mean to. i usually use them to convey rambling, such as when Sam is trying to deflect Dean's questions about the motel. Thanks for reading lovies