Okay, this has been awhile. Sorry about the delay! Instead of making 1000+ excuses I will just thank those of you who are still reading - and reviewing - and adding to alerts / faves. You guys are the best! :)
Chapter 11
'Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica -'
An exorcism? Of course! If this was a real demon in the real world an exorcism would work. How smart of this Dean. Didn't matter if he couldn't move his body to beat the unbeatable, he would move his mouth. As Sam wildly spun the flimsy remains of the first bandage from his arm, he wondered if he should take the credit for that. This was all in his head right? So even if he didn't actually think to do it himself, he must have come up with it to make this imaginary-Dean try.
Right?
Or not. Maybe Lucifer threw him another game. Simply to present him with false hope only to tear it from his grasp at the last second. He'd enjoy that. He'd laugh.
Anyway, no time to think about those kinds of things. The flash of silver blade rising above the dark haired monster-man brought him back to the urgency of the situation. Ripping apart skin must be priority.
Dean continued, his voice strained, his Latin still needing work. Just as Sam imagined it would be. He considered visualizing this blade away. Making it disappear right into thin air like magic. Magic in a vision wasn't all that bizarre.
Unless it was Lucifer. If it was Lucifer that blade was mere seconds away from plunging directly through his head.
A disturbing realization; finger nails slashing into sliced up skin worked a whole lot better than fingernails digging into healed skin. Too many problems here.
'Sam!' Dean interrupted his exorcism to yell his name. Sam glanced over at him compassionately. Even fake-Dean pressed injured against a wall tore at his heart. He slammed his eyes shut and heard his brother's demand. 'Don't you dare!'
Don't you dare what? Surely scratching into arms won over certain death. Why did any-Dean insist on having a problem with everything? Made things all the more difficult.
'Ergo draco maledicte –' His fake-brother carried on, desperation oozing. Sam remained skeptical, unsure if the panic flooding his ears resulted from the knife or the fingernails. What did his mind tell him? Maybe both. Even fake Dean would stress and worry with every move Sam did or didn't make...Even in fake land.
A moan erupted from the thing standing in front of him. Sam pressed deeper into his skin positive at this point cutting through remained an impossible task with nails this blunt. What else was around? And what, pray tell was taking so long with the evil son of a bitch and the knife? This was all really weird and nothing like his other visions. Pain seemed to be taking its sweet-ass time with this one. No complaints there but the unpredictability unsettled him.
His eyes found his way up to the black-eyed bastard. The sight shocked him. Why was it shaking, seemingly fighting against Dean's words, forcing itself to stay earthbound? Without flinching or moving, Sam's gaze followed the fall of the knife. He frowned; unaware of the red marks and white indents burning his forearm. His grip tightened. What the hell?
Dean continued voice thick with purpose. Sam felt the weight of the middle-aged man thump against his shins before forcing his mind to catch up. A fallen knife, a body dropping and a black cloud of whirling smoke whooshing past him?
He forgot to watch the thing escape and didn't feel Dean finally manage to stand and move over to him. His mind once again too slow to process. Only when he felt his hand being snatched from his right arm and heard a wince so close to his face did he realize Dean was less than a foot away.
'It was a demon?' Probably a stupid question but a legitimate one. Sam scanned the room seeing nothing but normal, his eyes eventually landing on his unimpressed, concerned and wounded brother.
'You and me.' Dean stated while clutching his shoulder for dear life. 'We gotta talk.'
oOoOoOo
'Dean, we have to call Cas to heal your shoulder.' Sam broke the ten minute silence eyeing his brother's fight to manage the Impala. Driving this slowly and awkwardly surely had to be as dangerous as Sam taking the wheel. However Dean stood firm and voiced his own opinion on the matter. Too high a risk. Sam not at all stable and Dean, in extreme pain or not remained the only one to get them to the motel safely. Case closed. His only guarantee.
At the sound of another whisper of a groan, Sam glanced down at his fingers. 'And anything else that's hurt.'
'We're not calling Cas.' Dean flicked the indicator causing the Impala to swerve. Driving left handed while every movement stabbed like a bitch was a freaking nightmare but it was the only way. 'We need to call Bobby to deal with that body.'
'I'll do that.' Sam peeled his phone from his front jeans pocket and swallowed the dead lump in his throat. Of all the insane, crazy things to do. Jesus. What happened to him back there? Positive he was losing his mind, he shook his head demanding self-hating thoughts evacuate the frazzled premises. He had to get it together. Dean was hurting bad and it was all his fault. He took himself out of the game, left Dean to fight alone and offered no back up. What kind of hunter did that make him? But worse, what kind of brother?
'Then can you do it?' Dean broke his trance. Sam sighed but at himself. So much for ignoring those kinds of thoughts and keeping his head on the crucial thing here. Hopeless. Just God-dammed hopeless. 'Sam?'
'Yeah. Sorry.'
The civil-all-business call with Bobby appeared to ease Dean's demeanor somewhat and took a detail off his mind. That was something at least. He did one thing right. Now to fix the issue needing to be fixed first. Sam scrolled to Castiel's phone number helplessly forgetting cell range didn't often reach heaven.
'No.' Dean growled trying his hardest not to bite down on his lip after the involuntary jerk of his neck. 'Don't.' Almost home. Just straight up that hill with a sharp left into the driveway. Sounded easy enough, but another struggle lay ahead. He took a breath. Soon conversations could hit the surface of this mess. Soon enough.
'I'll just tell him to meet us in the room.'
'No.'
Why? Sam frowned, confused. 'Why not?'
'Because-' Dean checked the rear vision mirror. No cars behind him, no pressure. No one needing to be slowed down because his little brother went into la-la land and scared the hell out of him. Good. His foot eased down on the brake. 'We're not calling in Cas to fix this Sam.'
'Fix you I mean. Not this.'
'He's not fixing anything.'
'Dean, you're hurt.'
'And I'm going to stay hurt.'
No. No, no. 'No, you're not. He can fix you and –'
'And what? Make everything alright again? So no matter what happens, no matter what you do – or don't do, you always have him to fix it all? You could have been killed back there. It was that close and all you wanted to do was scratch your arms.' The car stopped. Neither noticed.
'I thought it was a vision. I'm sorry. I just – I thought if I did what I did in the others, I could get us out.' The kid was panicking, stressing. Too hard to watch so Dean turned his face towards the windshield and continued straight ahead. 'Dean, don't punish me by punishing yourself. '
The car halted once more. Dean spun his head around to his brother, frown lines indenting his forehead. 'Sam I am not punishing anyone.'
'Then let Cas heal you. Please.'
'No.'
'Dean.'
'No!'
That 'No' was too damn definite and pretty aggressive. Sam clammed up but reached over to assist with the turn of the wheel regardless of Dean's grumbled but half-hearted protests. If there was one thing the younger Winchester wanted to argue it was this. Though the swirling muddle of his mind bewildered him. How many times had he argued with Dean and how many times had he actually been right? How could he convince him this time he was? And was he? Really? Didn't he think this every time? It always seemed right to him. Never seemed wrong but always ended up being just that.
But Dean in pain? How could this be the right thing? It wasn't.
Was it?
No. Surely it wasn't.
Home sweet-ugly home at last. Dean Winchester interrupted his sigh of relief with another frown. His double take provided no further information. This was definitely their room right? Yes, the room key-tag matched the gold plated number on the door. He also remembered that single yellow rose sticking crooked in a pot under the window. Definitely the right room.
Then...?
He felt his car door open before realizing Sam no longer sat beside him like a spooked out kitten. A big hand reached into his personal space. Peering up at his little brother, he scoffed. 'If I can drive, I can get out of the damn car.'
Sam nodded once and took a step back - and sometimes Dean wished he could curb his bluntness. Even if the mere sight of his brother offering any kind of help in his condition seemed nothing short of ridiculous to him, it didn't necessarily mean the same to Sam.
'You know,' Dean started with a strained expression. I didn't open those curtains before we left. Did you?'
Sam dragged the packed bags from the back seat of the car and flung them easily over his shoulder. He deserved the pain, not his brother who was fumbling and struggling to even get the key upright. He glanced at the window and shrugged. 'Maybe? I don't know.'
True that. Sam wasn't up to remembering much of anything at this point and explanations of the happenings at this motel wasn't the important thing here. He stepped forward carefully.
Damn, this shoulder hurt. And the other. Everything hurt. Even pushing in the key not to mention opening the door frickin' hurt. Usually their doors felt thin and flimsy contradicting the sheer design of keeping anything in let alone out, but not this one, no siree, this one had to be the heaviest he'd ever come across. Typical.
'Take a seat.' Dean ordered as he studied his surroundings, studying every mere detail. Nothing else seemed out of place. Everything appeared exactly as they left it, even down to his white burger wrapper lying half scrunched on his bed. Oh God, was that dry cheese stuck to his blanket? Gross.
Sam chose to slump on the end of his bed. Dean chose to ease himself down on a kitchen chair; the straightness of the back supporting his body. They stared at each other. Sam guilt ridden, Dean unimpressed. Both concerned – for the other.
Dean spoke first. 'Dude, what went down back there?'
Sam never intended for his shrug to come off so nonchalantly. He watched as Dean's chest rose with a sharp intake of breath and felt his guts plummet. The time called for him to speak so speak he had to. 'I just thought it was another vision'
And that's what you do in your visions? Basically nothing?' Sam might have shaken his head ready to respond but Dean jumped in first, 'Except for trying to hurt yourself? I thought you at least fought whatever was happening to you.'
'I do.'
'Not this time.'
Sam noticed the sadness in his brother's eyes. It felt like they matched his own. 'That's why I was trying to scratch – To fight my way out.'
'That's not fighting. That's giving in. You sat in front of a demon and all you did was try to draw your own blood.'
'It's the only thing I know to do to get out.'
'But this wasn't a vision Sam.'
'I thought it was.'
'But it wasn't!' If he could, Dean would thump the table. He wanted to, with all his being he wanted to and Sam knew it. That was the only consolation. 'It was real and in real life you know what to do.'
'But I don't know how I can tell! It feels exactly the same.'
'So either way you fight it. You first try what you know and if that doesn't work, you try again. '
'I forget what I know.' Sam sat forward, flustered. 'I was all scrambled. I still am. Dean, I don't know what is going on with me. I don't know when or where it's going to end and what to do when it does. All I know is it will.' He closed his eyes. 'And when it does, if it is by something like that, it is better than...' No, don't say it. Because when it does, it will be Dean who is left helpless, wondering, thinking the worst, knowing the worst.
And that was just not fair.
'I thought... ' He continued, 'you were okay out here and my mind or Lucifer created you over there. I would have done more if I knew it was real.' Swallowing didn't solve a damn thing but regardless he swallowed a second time. 'I'm so sorry.'
Dean squinted concentrating on the hell-torn shadow of a man sitting in front of him. Honestly, he felt like throwing up.
'I should have done more, I know.' Sam took a moment to shift a little of his regret. It didn't work. Neither did making eye contact so he looked away. Found a mark on the wall in the shape of a black bug and focused on that. 'But I can do more now. If you just let me call Cas-'
'No. I told you, no way.'
'But you're hurt and pretty bad. You can hardly move.'
'I'll heal.' Dean stated thickly. 'Eventually.'
Sam buried his head in his hands. His next words came out as a mumble while his fingers ran through his hair. 'Why do that to yourself? To prove a point to me?' Pulling away made him feel that more vulnerable but the adrenalin running through him urged him on. 'Because I get it Dean, I do. I will try harder, I swear.'
'The point I am trying to get through to you is there aren't always going to be magic wands and quick fixes. Scratching at yourself until you bleed cannot be an option. It doesn't work like that. We have to go in as us. Just us.'
'But your pain-'
'I'll take pills.'
'It's not enough.'
'It has to be. It's all anyone else has.'
'Anyone else doesn't have to do what we have to do.'
'You can never forget we are humans Sam. Just humans. We have to fight this crap. Never give up. Never just throw up your hands and take the easy way out.'
Sam raised his eyebrows and held out his marked arms. 'You think this is the easy way out?'
'No.' Dean said definitely, straightening his back regardless of the pain shooting up his spine. All he wanted to do was help him, fix this, but he needed his brother to fight for it too. 'But you do.'
(To be continued...)
