Chapter Eleven
Castiel took them back to Canton after they'd exhausted the hunt for Jesse Turner and they picked up the Impala. Castiel had things to attend to, so Dean drove back to Bobby's alone. It was a strange solitary journey, and more than once, he found his eyes drifting to the empty passenger seat. He wondered how Sam was and what he was doing. When he got back to Bobby's place, he would have pages to catch up on. He looked forward to reading them, as they were the only connection to his brother that he had.
It was dawn when he pulled into the scrap yard, and as he climbed from the car, Castiel appeared beside him. "Dean," he said in his familiar dry tone.
"Cas." Dean nodded. "You get your business done with?"
Castiel frowned. "Not to any productive degree."
"What were you doing?"
"I am still committed to the search for my father," Castiel said.
Dean felt a pang of guilt. Castiel had been on the hunt for God when Sam went to Lucifer. He was ashamed to say he hadn't given it a moment's thought since.
"Cas, man, I'm sorry," he said. "We've been keeping you from that..."
"It is okay," Castiel said. "Sam's capture and subsequent imprisonment have taken priority for me, too, but in the times that you do not need me, I shall continue my hunt. If my father can be found, he may be the key to freeing Sam, too."
Dean nodded thoughtfully as he let himself into the house. "Thanks, Cas."
Though it was early, there was the scent of coffee in the air, and the sound of pounding keys as they opened the door. Bobby called out a greeting to them and Chuck nodded from his position at the keyboard.
"You're up and about early," Dean said.
"I was woken by hammer-fingers over there," Bobby said grumpily.
"I'm sorry," Chuck said, not sounding remotely repentant.
Dean helped himself to coffee, and then he picked up the pages that were sat by the printer from the previous days. "You read these?" he asked Bobby.
Bobby shook his head. "Chuck gave me the highlights. I figured you'd want to be the first."
Dean appreciated the thought. It seemed petty, but he wanted to be the first, well, second including Chuck, person to know how Sam was. He felt that it was his right as a brother. He started to read.
He was amused that Sam was caught off guard by the Devil when he stepped out of the shower. The fact that Sam blushed made him laugh. It may be the Devil doing it, but anyone that could get a blush out of Sam was worth recognizing.
He actually stopped reading mid-sentence and turned to Chuck when he read about Sam encouraging Lucifer to eat.
"Seriously, Chuck?"
"I have told you before," Chuck said tiredly, "I don't control them. I merely transcribe it. Sam evidently decided that Lucifer needed this experience."
"Yeah, but eating..."
"I have not tried it," Castiel said thoughtfully. "Why have I never tried it?"
"We'll cook you up some eggs and bacon as soon as we're done here," Dean said distractedly and then he continued to read. Before he got to the section of Lucifer eating, he reached a more painful part of Sam's day. "'I just wish something would make sense. Everything has been so confusing lately. I don't know. It's just a lot, I guess. I miss Dean. I miss Bobby. I miss my life.'"
Bobby looked up at Dean and a moment of unspoken communication passed between them. They were both thinking the same thing: they missed him, too.
Dean cleared his throat and continued down the page. "Lucifer watched Sam for a moment and then brought his fork down to the stack of pancakes in front of him. Slowly, he brought a forkful of pancake up to his mouth, and with one last look down at it, he brought it to his mouth. Sam had to repress a laugh as he watched the Devil. He was making the process of eating seem painful." Dean paused to chuckle. "Maybe you don't want to try eating after all, Cas."
Castiel nodded. "These pages are not only informative, they are also amusing. It is a testament to your brother's character that he can persuade Lucifer to eat."
"Yeah," Dean said thoughtfully. "What's up with that? Why would he bother?"
"As he said in the pages, Sam is special," Chuck said cryptically.
"You going to explain that at all?" Dean asked.
Chuck shook his head. "No. You might want to get on with reading." That said, he turned his attention back to the computer and began hammering away at the keys again.
When Dean came to the discussion of Lucifer's fall from grace, he stopped for a moment to look at Castiel. "Lucifer stiffened."You are asking me how it felt to be cast out of Heaven?" Sam nodded. Part of him wanted to retract the question, to remove the look of anguish from Lucifer's face. But another, more dominant part of him, wanted to know the answer. "Painful," Lucifer said softly. "Not merely physically, but emotionally. I did not just fall as your friend Castiel did, I was cast out. My brother, my beloved family, sent me away and left me to rot. I was so angry." His hands fisted on the tabletop. "Furious that they had all chosen your kind over me. Imagine your brother choosing an ant over you, and you can come close to understanding my confusion.'"
Castiel looked only mildly interested, and Dean bit back the question of whether or not it was painful for him.
Dean read Sam's reaction and a huge part of him wished Sam was there just so he could shake some sense into him. What the hell was Sam thinking feeling sympathetic towards the Devil? Why would he want to comfort him? It got worse as he continued reading and saw that Sam was falling into the Devil's trap and thinking that Lucifer genuinely cared for him. It was ridiculous.
Dean felt a wave of some painful emotion as Sam recited his first memory. He didn't know Sam remembered that day. He was right; it was a bad memory for Dean, as his father had been spitting mad when he came home to find Sam had bust his lip open under Dean's watch.
The hardest part of the pages came next, the news of the family's death. Dean felt a pang of hurt as Sam reacted to the news and he turned to Castiel. "Did you know this would happen?"
Castiel shook his head. "I've had little contact with Reapers before. I thought there would be a price to pay for what Sam did, but I did not expect it to be this."
Dean frowned. This was the last thing Sam needed on his conscience. "Is there anything more in here?" he asked Chuck.
Chuck shook his head. "Nothing important. Sam will spend the rest of the day feeling pretty low and Lucifer will do his best to cheer him up."
Dean moved onto the next day's pages. It seemed an ordinary day until Lucifer announced that he was leaving. Dean was torn between relief that Sam would have some space from the Devil and worry that whatever Lucifer was leaving for was going to cause problems for the rest of the world.
He skimmed through the pages, breaking into laughter at the waitress's inept attempts at flirting. He howled when he read her misunderstanding the relationship with Sam and Lucifer. The idea that they could possibly be a couple amused him so much that it took a few minutes for him to calm himself down. He read as Sam returned to the hotel and searches for signs of Lucifer on the laptop and found nothing. He read the last of the page aloud.
"Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family swept through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives. He threw himself down on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't find him easily, though, and he spent most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He woke more than once in a cold sweat."
Dean looked to Chuck. "That's it? He is just going to sleep the rest of the day away?"
Chuck nodded somberly. "I think Lucifer's absence and memories of the young girl have soured Sam's mood enough that he prefers sleep at the moment."
Dean frowned. That didn't sound like his brother at all. Sam hated sitting around with nothing to do and would never waste a day sleeping while there was something he could be doing. Then it occurred to Dean that there was nothing else Sam could be doing. Without even the Devil there for company, he had nothing.
"You got something for today?" Dean asked Chuck.
Chuck nodded. "Give me a sec." He pounded a couple more keys and the printer began spitting out pages. As Dean reached for them, Chuck cleared his throat. "Sam has a message for you."
Dean merely looked his confusion.
"Sam knows that I am watching him for you, and he used the connection to communicate."
Dean grins. "Sneaky son of a bitch. Why didn't we think of this before?"
"The connection only works one way," Chuck said. "We have no way of getting messages to him, but he can communicate with us."
"Well, what did he say?" Bobby asked eagerly.
"He has found what he believes to be a werewolf hunt in Bloomington, Indiana."
"And?" Dean prompts.
"And he said he is okay."
"That's it?" Dean sounded disappointed.
"What were you hoping for?" Bobby asked. "A secret outline of Lucifer's master plan?"
Dean shook his head. "No, I guess not."
"He's done the best he can with what he has," Bobby said doggedly.
"I know that," Dean said defensively. "I was just hoping for... I don't know. He said he's okay, but reading through these pages it's obvious that he's not remotely okay."
Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. "I think he's doing as well as we can hope given the circumstances. Now, are you going to get on with those pages or should I read?"
Dean shuffled the pages and cleared his throat before he began reading.
"As he lay there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realized he needed to do something. He couldn't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him was fighting, for good or bad. Knowing Chuck was watching, and therefore Dean, he pushed himself up out of bed and prepared for another day,"
Dean was glad that Sam was aware that what's he was doing was unhealthy, and he was pleased when Sam got up and showered. He was impressed that Sam was thinking of him and hunting despite his captivity, and when he read Sam's research into the hunt aloud, Bobby cleared his throat.
"I had Chuck look it up for you. It definitely sounds like a werewolf."
Dean nodded. "Gotcha. I'll hit the hay for a few hours and then Cas and I will head out to Indiana. That okay, Cas, or do you need to be getting on with the God hunt?"
Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment. "I will use the time you are resting to search and then I can, with good conscience, aid you in the defeat of the werewolf."
Dean nodded his satisfaction. He could to take down a werewolf alone, he had done it before, but he liked hunting with Castiel, and it made things move faster.
He skimmed through the rest of Sam's day, which was mainly spent searching for Lucifer on the laptop without success. He was satisfied as he came to the last page to see that Sam was eating and taking care of himself the best he could in a crappy situation.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to get a few hours sleep then I can head out."
"You might want to try eating something, too," Bobby said. "Sam's not the only one that needs to take care of himself.
Dean nodded. "I will. I need sleep more right now, though."
Dean plodded up the stairs and threw himself down on the bed. He was asleep within minutes, but his dreams were not peaceful. He dreamt that he had found Sam somehow, and they were trying to escape, but every time they opened a door, the Devil was behind it calling to Sam to stay. The more he called to Sam, the lighter Sam's grip on Dean's arm was. He could feel Sam slipping away from him and going back to the Devil.
He woke up and jerked upright in bed, gasping. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he tried to calm himself down again. He told himself that it was just a dream, that Sam wasn't slipping away from him, but he didn't get much more sleep that day.
For a werewolf hunt, it was pretty easy. With a few quick interviews and flashes of the fake fed badges, they were able to track it down. It turned out to be a drifter who was staying in the same motel as they were. They caught him on the last night of the cycle, and Dean put him away with a bullet to the heart.
Travelling with Castiel cut down on hours spent driving, and they were back at Bobby's that same night.
As they appeared in Bobby's study, Bobby started and slopped coffee down his front. "Dammit, Cas," he said, wiping at the coffee staining his shirt. "Have you never heard of knocking?"
"I was merely thinking of ease of arrival," Castiel said. "Next time, I shall endeavor to knock."
Dean crossed the room and picked up the stack of pages from beside the printer. "These today's?" he asked.
Bobby rubbed at his beard. "Yeah, you um... you might want to take a break before you throw yourself into that."
Dean frowned. "Has something happened?"
"You might say that," Bobby said.
Chuck walked into the study from the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Dean. You're back," he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "How was the werewolf hunt?"
"You telling me you didn't see it?" Dean asked then shook his head. "Never mind that, what's the deal with Sam? Bobby said something's happened. Is he okay?"
Chuck nodded. "He's okay. It's just that he... um..."
"Spit it out, Chuck!" Dean snapped.
"He's had some bad news, and he's kinda been drinking." Chuck paused. "A lot."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sam can't drink. He's a lightweight."
"Someone should tell him that," Chuck said with a nervous laugh.
"It'd be easier if you just read the pages," Bobby said.
Dean snatched them up from the printer tray. He skimmed through the morning's narration of Sam showering and walking to the store and started reading aloud as he reached the important section.
"It caught Sam off guard when he saw it. It was the second day after Lucifer left. He went to a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greeted him: A TOWN IN MOURNING. Below the headline, there was a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picked up the paper and skimmed the article. It was announcing the funeral. Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white effected Sam, and he found himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asked the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raised an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he didn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam was clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel."
Dean paused and raked a hand through his hair. He could understand Sam's depression at the reminder of the family's death, but he wished Sam would find a better way to deal with it than drinking. It may be the Winchester way—to block out pain with liquor—but it was not usually Sam's way.
He read as Sam worked his way through the bottle and eventually passed out on the bed, clutching the empty liquor bottle.
"Dammit, Sam," he said in a hoarse voice. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't think he is thinking," Chuck said. "That's the problem. Those are yesterday's pages, but there is more of the same today. Sam's in a bad place, and I'm not just talking about his captivity. He is really depressed, and drinking seems to be the only thing he has going on that he can control."
That made sense, Dean thought, but he wished it didn't. He was filled with frustration for the crappy situation. Somewhere, Sam was hurting, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
"Is there anything I should read in today's pages?" he asked.
Chuck shook his head. "Not unless you want to play count the bottles with me."
Bobby whistled. "Is it that bad?"
"I can drink," Chuck said, "but even I would struggle to put away the amount of liquor Sam is going to today."
"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asked. "Physically, I mean? He's not going to get alcohol poisoning or anything is he?"
"Not today," Chuck said. "Tomorrow... who knows?" He shrugged. "I can only see so much."
"If your brother was to fall ill, Lucifer would heal him," Castiel stated.
"I know that, Cas," Dean said irritably. "But I'd still rather he didn't need to."
"We need to keep our heads," Bobby said reasonably. "We can't start sniping at each other."
Dean turned his scowl on him. "That's easy for you to say. It's not your brother drinking himself into a coma."
"You think this is easy for me?" Bobby snapped. "He may not be my blood, but Sam is my boy just as much as you are. I don't want to read about him abusing himself anymore than you do."
Dean knew he should apologize to Bobby, he knew Bobby cared about Sam, too, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he stomped out of the house and into the scrap yard. Picking up a tire iron from the toolbox, he vented his frustration on one of the junkers stacked around the house.
His arm swung again and again, pounding metal against metal. He hadn't felt so useless since the days immediately after his father's death. He failed his father then, and he was failing Sam now.
Eventually, muscles burning and back aching, he dropped the tire iron onto the ground and went back to the house. He didn't speak to anyone; he merely picked up the fresh bottle of whiskey from the counter and carried it up to his bedroom.
If Sam was going to drink himself into oblivion, Dean was going to join him.
Their days fell into an unhappy rhythm. Each morning they congregated in the study and waited for Chuck to give them that day's pages. There was no good news, just more days spent in a haze of alcohol, until the seventh day, the day of Lucifer's expected return. Dean never thought he would be anxious for the Devil's return, but he could see nothing else breaking his brother out of his liquor soaked haze.
That morning, Dean was awake and making coffee when Chuck stumbled into the kitchen.
"Morning," he mumbled as he leaned against the counter waiting for the coffee to brew.
Chuck nodded and sat down at the table. He stretched as the computer loaded and then he started hammering away at the keys.
Dean wanted to ask him about what was happening that day, but he withheld the questions, knowing he would hear soon enough.
When the coffee was brewed, Dean took a mug through to Bobby in the study. Castiel wasn't at the house; Dean assumed he was out on the hunt for his absent Father.
Bobby accepted the mug gratefully and nodded towards the kitchen. "Any clues on what we're going to hear today?"
Dean shook his head. "I can't tell you how weird it is for me to be hoping the Devil is back sooner rather than later."
Bobby nodded understandingly. "I know what you mean, boy. I'm the same. I think things will be better for Sam once he is though. I can't see Lucifer letting Sam abuse his body like that."
Castiel returned just as Chuck was printing that day's pages.
Dean snatched the first page up as soon as it was spit out of the printer. He read aloud for the benefit of Bobby and Castiel. "Sam rolled out of bed around noon the next day. He felt terrible. When he dragged himself into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror above the sink, he saw that he looked terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighed. He hadn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then, he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thought back over the last seven days and he cursed himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too." Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Sorry, Sammy, but no, I know all about it."
He skimmed through the narration of Sam's shower and interaction with Meg, but he paused when Sam went to his laptop.
"He turned on the laptop and searched the police reports from Bloomington to see if there was any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf. He skimmed through a report and spotted something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evoked. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation. It had to be Dean and Cas. The thought made him happy and sad in equal measure. He was happy because Dean was out there, fighting still, and he'd gotten the message, but he was sad because it was Cas working with Dean and not him. It made him feel a pang of hurt to know that he had been replaced, but he knew it was for the best. It wasn't like he was going to be back in the game anytime soon."
Dean felt a pang of remorse, though he didn't know why. It was not like he had any choice about pairing up with Castiel, and he definitely hadn't replaced Sam. Still the feeling niggled at him. He reached for the next page in the printer tray and read aloud.
"The shadows lengthened and the sun sank and still Sam waited. When full dark came, Sam got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. If he hurried, he could get to the store before it closed."
Dean stopped and looked up at Chuck. "Is that it?"
Chuck nodded. "Unless you want another recitation of Sam drinking himself stupid. That's all of note that happens."
"Lucifer doesn't come back?" Bobby asked.
Chuck looked apologetic, though it was no fault of his own. "I don't know why, but he is not coming back today."
Dean sighed and dropped the pages down on the table. "Dammit." They'd all pinned their hopes on Lucifer's return to pull Sam out of his depression, but it wasn't happening today.
"What are we supposed to do?" Dean asked plaintively.
"Do what Sam said," Bobby said. "He told you to keep hunting, so you keep hunting."
Dean scowled. "That was part of a deal. I was supposed to hunt, and he was supposed to stay strong. From what I've read, he's not holding to his end of the deal."
"Sam's got a lot going on at the moment..." Bobby said.
"And I don't?" Dean asked angrily.
"You do, but at least you have your friends with you. Sam is alone, with the guilt of that family's death hanging over his head."
"But it wasn't his fault."
"I know that, and you know that, but apparently Sam doesn't. So he is drinking himself into a stupor 'cause that's all he can do at the moment. Now, I've nailed down a demon hotspot in Arkansas. You going to go took care of it, or do I have to call on Rufus?"
"I'll do it," Dean said grudgingly. "Cas, you in?"
Castiel stepped away from the wall where he had been standing and silently observing the scene. "Of course."
Bobby nodded his satisfaction. "Good."
Dean and Castiel were in Texas, hunting down another demon hotspot when Bobby called them in the early hours of the morning. "Chuck just woke me up. The kid's all a quiver about something he saw. I think you guys best get back here."
No sooner than Dean hung up the phone, they were standing on Bobby's front porch. Dean let them into the house and rushed into the study. "What's happening?" he asked Chuck at once.
"Lucifer is returning today," Chuck said.
"About damn time," Dean said, letting out a sigh. "Is Sam okay?"
Chuck nodded. "He will be. I haven't written today's pages yet, but there's a stack there for you."
"Anything in there other than my brother attempting to pickle his liver?"
Chuck laughed. "There was an interesting interaction with a demon I thought you'd enjoy. I highlighted it for you."
Dean flicked through the pages of print until he came to one with a yellow highlighted section, which he read aloud.
"Sam waited impatiently for Meg to return with the liquor he'd sent her out to get. He started when he heard a knock at the door. Meg never knocked. She just barged in whenever she felt like it. He struggled to his feet and swung open the door. Standing on the threshold was the most unfortunate looking demon Sam had ever seen. He came up to Sam's elbow and he had a round pudgy face. 'Well, aren't you adorable," Sam said. 'I didn't know they made demons in fun-size.' The demon scowled. "And I didn't know humans came in gigantor size.' Sam reached out to pat the demon on the head, but it jumped back. 'I didn't mean to startle you, little fella," Sam said. The demon looked ready to take a swing at Sam. 'I am not here for your amusement," the demon said. 'I come with a warning.' 'Are the Munchkins attacking?" Sam asked. 'No, you buffoon, Lucifer is going to be—' 'Keith!' a woman's voice called out. 'Meg,' Sam said. He was relieved to see her. Not only would she make the tiny, angry man go away, but she had an armful of liquor bottles.'
Dean stopped reading there and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. Chuck was beaming back at him, and even Castiel was smiling.
"I've got to give your brother props," Chuck said. "It's the first time I woke from a dream because I was laughing so hard.
It was exactly what they all needed, something light after the last two weeks of depression. Sam was at least a funny drunk rather than a surly one.
Chuck sat down at the computer and started that day's pages. While he worked, Dean made coffee and a sandwich. He had been awake for almost twenty hours straight, and it was beginning to take its toll on him.
When the pages began to stream from the printer, he snatched them up and read hurriedly. Sam was working his way through another bottle of whiskey when Lucifer returned.
"'Look what the cat dragged in,' Sam said, tipping his bottle back and taking a swig.' Sam,' Lucifer greeted with a nod. 'I see you have found a way to pass the time.' Sam hiccupped and took another drink. 'Yep.' Lucifer tilted his head to the side. 'I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day.' Sam laughed. 'Well, how does it feel to be wrong?' He took another drink."
Bobby gaped at Dean. "Is your brother seriously sassing the Devil?"
Dean nodded. "Yep. And it doesn't look like Sam is going to be sobering up anytime soon either."
"He will," Chuck said. "You just need to keep reading."
Dean read Sam and Lucifer's conversation, feeling grateful when Lucifer persuaded Sam to relinquish the bottle, but confused by Sam's apparent grief at the Devil's absence. "'I thought you would come back, but you didn't.' 'I'm here now,' Lucifer said. Sam nodded and looked up at him. 'Yeah, I guess.' Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. 'I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty.'"
Dean paused and looked at Chuck. "Sam missed Lucifer?"
Chuck nodded. "I don't know the reasoning behind it, but part of this alcohol binge was down to the fact Lucifer wasn't there, and not just because he wasn't there to stop him. I'm sorry, Dean, I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't control what happens. Something is changing, and all we can do is wait and see what happens next."
