RTC Chapter 12
Heaven and Hell...Part 2
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It looked to everyone in the room as though an ethereal firework display were taking place, as the walls lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours. It was almost as if someone had taken all the sunlight in the world and shone it through a huge crystal, the prism splitting the light into a million glass shards.
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"Go on, justify yourself!" He stepped right up into Dean's face just as Dean went toe to toe with him. "What gave you the right to change the natural course of events?"
He jabbed Dean hard in the stomach with a finger. "Indeed, what gave you the right to wrench him out of Heaven and give him back his life? Do you even realise what you've done to him?"
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"Dean, come back!" Sam whispered, and flinched at the all too familiar sight of his brother's body bucking and arching under the difib paddles. "Don't leave me..."
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"There has to be a balance. Man and woman, light and dark, Heaven and Hell! I understand it's what some of your race refer to as Yin and Yang? Well, that's as close an analogy as it gets. And unfortunately, even I can see the sense in it all. Not even I'm stupid enough to upset that balance."
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Dean collapsed face down on the road, consciousness gradually deserting him.
But as he faded out he heard Lucifer say something that confused the hell out of him.
"Rest for now, my son..."
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"Dean, you remember when I was eleven? I came home from school with a black eye." Sam smiled sadly and reached out to stroke Dean's spiky hair. It was a mess, and already growing
passed his ears. Sam watched the rise and fall of his brother's chest with some apprehension, but just glad that Dean could do that by himself now.
"I'd been in a fight, but you told me that I'd heal. That all the bruises would fade." Sam sniffed a little. "But losing you...that's a bruise that won't. Please...Dean..." He started to cry unashamedly. "You gotta come back to me man..."
Bobby and Ellen watched with heavy hearts from the open door. Ellen's maternal instincts wanted her to rush in there and sweep the boy up in her arms. But she knew better.
And so did Bobby.
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Dean gradually became aware that his right hand was being held in a vice, though without pain. He was also starting to wonder why his sleeve was damp and...was that someone talking? Huh. Sounds like Sam. Why's he sound so upset?
Sam! Sam speak up buddy I can barely hear ya!
But he felt the pull towards sleep much too strong and allowed it to envelope him in its warmth. Wanting to return the comfort his brother offered, Dean squeezed his hand lightly.
Knowing Sam was alive and here, made Dean feel safe and secure for the first time since he'd found his little brother trapped behind the wheel of an old car at the bottom of a cliff. For the first time since then, he no longer felt scared.
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Sam froze and put a halt to the one sided conversation with his brother.
"Dean? Did you just squeeze my hand?" Sam leaned forward, wide eyes searching Dean's face anxiously for any sign of movement. "Come on man, stop messin' around. I know you squeezed my hand." But after a few minutes and no further movement came, Sam slumped in his chair, defeated, and wondered if he'd imagined it. He soon fell into an uneasy sleep, upper torso resting on his brother's bed and his forehead on Dean's hand, held tightly in his own.
Sometime later Ellen crept into the room and gently laid a blanket around Sam's shoulders. It was a testament to how exhausted he was that he didn't even stir. Worriedly, she cupped a hand to the exposed part of his face and was startled at the heat radiating off him. About to head back out to get Bobby and Dr Michaels she stopped when a familiar voice croaked out.
"Hey Ellen. Sam ok?"
Ellen turned to meet Dean's wary green gaze. She could've lied. She could've spun all kinds of crap, but somehow she didn't think Dean would be fooled, especially when he got a good look at his brother.
"I wish I could tell ya different Hon, but Sam here's literally worried himself sick over ya. He's got a fever."
Dean's eyes widened with concern and he sat up groggily. "How long have I been out?"
Ellen bit her lip before answering "You were under for far too long, but you've been unconscious for over a week." She offered a small worried smile. "Sam's been sat by your
side the whole time. He wouldn't eat or drink, especially after Doc Michaels and Bobby conspired to drug him just to at least get him a decent night's sleep."
Dean chuckled a little before his eyes went back to Sam, or rather what he could see of his brother under all that hair since his face was turned away. "Yeah. He's more like Dad than he knows."
A snort of amusement came from the doorway. "I believe that's a pot and kettle moment!" Dean glanced up to see Bobby grinning at him. "How ya feelin' son?"
"I'm ok. It's Sam I'm worried about..." He touched a hand to the back of Sam's neck and frowned. "You're right Ellen, he is running a fever." He immediately pressed the call button then leapt out of bed, almost face planting when his underused muscles protested at the movement. When Bobby went to help, Dean shrugged him off. Rounding the bed he got his first real look at Sam and froze in shock.
"Shit!" Dean knelt by the wheelchair, reached out and tilted his brother back and to the side so that he came to rest against Dean's chest, then started shaking Sam awake. "Hey Sammy? You with me?"
Sam let out a faint groan then opened sleep-weary eyes and blinked up at Dean. "Dean?" He whispered breathlessly. "You awake?"
"Yeah I'm awake, which is more than should be said for you right now." Dean smiled worriedly at Sam, noting the faint perspiration on his skin and the short shallow breaths. "What the hell you think you're doin' up an' about dude? You just had surgery! Come on little bro. Let's get you back in bed huh?"
Sam just stared up at him with glazed eyes, as if unable to believe he wasn't just dreaming.
"What happened? " He slurred out after Dean and Bobby finally managed to get him under the covers. He was shivering violently by this point and starting to look scared. "I...I thought you weren't coming back, that Lucifer was gonna keep you there that the cross road demon had won, but that can't be true 'cos we beat the driver and sent him back..." Sam's words were coming out in a jumbled mess but Dean understood where he was coming from.
"Slow down Sammy. There's time enough for that later." Dean drew the covers up to Sam's chin, and gently tucked him in as though he was four years old. "I'm here and I'm not goin'
anywhere. Now get some sleep ok? We gotta lot to talk about."
Bobby and Ellen silently left the brothers to it, sensing that they needed some time to themselves.
Dean watched over Sam as he finally fell into a deep sleep. He sat back and used the time to put his thoughts in order, though Sam would probably laugh at that.
Dean was starting to process a few things; the cross road demon, Lucifer's words, Heaven and Hell, the existence of God (though there was still a big bold question mark over that one as far as Dean was concerned). Dean was the first to admit that he lacked something in the philosophy stakes, and had even flunked out of Religious Studies in High School; feeling that his time was better spent trying to frighten the girls with cartoon drawings of penises. But he had the distinct impression that something was off here.
The Devil wasn't known for giving second chances; it wasn't his place. He was better known for double crossing, back stabbing, and going back on his 'word'. So what had happened exactly?
That same something told him that he could live for a thousand years and never truly know the answer.
Another question plagued him, scared him, as he glanced at his sleeping brother. Sam was looking better every minute. Dr Michaels had been by recently and set up a fresh IV to rehydrate him and provide much needed antibiotics. Sam had made himself ill from exhaustion, not to mention pulling his stitches, moving around too soon after surgery, and of course the prolonged CPR hadn't helped. Now he was on the mend and Dean could relax a little. But still...
Am I really out of the deal? Or was Lucifer just dickin' with me? Is Sam safe now?
Either way, it was certain that he'd find that one out soon enough.
When his year was finally up.
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He smiled down at Dean Winchester as he lay sprawled out on the road. Leaning down, he brushed an affectionate hand over the boy's face, then stood and turned when someone cleared their throat apologetically.
"Yes, my son? You have a question?" He spoke kindly to the figure standing on the side of the road, watching him carefully.
Stepping forward, a tall young blonde man, dressed in a white suit, smiled tentatively. "Father, I do indeed have a question. Many in fact. But..." His voice trailed off as he wondered how to put it.
"Yes Gabrielle? You may ask away. It is only us here." He smiled at the younger man, eyes twinkling a little mischievously.
"Well,"
And Gabrielle turned to stare God squarely in the eye.
"How do you think Satan's going to react when he finds out what you've done? Impersonating him to save Dean's soul?"
God thought for a moment, then grinned brightly. "He'll be bloody furious I reckon!"
And they both started laughing loudly.
God and the Archangel Gabrielle strolled away into the distance, still laughing.
"I'd love to be a fly his wall when he finds out! Hehe! That's the best prank I've played in years on the old bastard!"
"But is Dean really out of the deal?"
"Once his brother's sorted out that bloody bus, then yes. It's more water tight than a mermaid's pants. He struck a new deal, and he's honoured it. Simple as that my son."
"Why Sam?"
"That was the deal you agreed was it not? That Sam had to be the one?"
"Well, yes..."
"There you go then. You happy now at the part you played?,"
There was a choking sound followed by a muttered "why's it always me that has to snog the blokes? St. Michael at least got to kiss a woman last time we did this...mind you, Dean Winchester's a pretty hot kisser...Oh my God what am I saying!!"
"...And now that blithering idiot in charge of all the cross road contracts will be happy he's got that lunatic McAllister at last, everyone's a winner, yes?"
"Umm...but Hell really wanted those Winchesters. Won't they be a bit...upset?"
God thought for a moment. "Well, someone's got to lose I suppose." He conceded, then grinned again "And I'm bloody determined it aint gonna be me!"
There was more laughter as the two entities disappeared into the dusk, but Gabrielle could be heard asking just one more question...
"Do you think he believes in you now? You did put up quite a convincing argument, and he might piece it all together himself."
God glared at him in horror. "I bloody hope not! Good grief! We can't have humans running 'round the Earth believing in me just because they've met me! It would throw the whole concept of faith into disarray, not to mention what it could do to the Catholic Church." God made a harrumph noise as he squared his shoulders. "No no, I'm quite sure the cocky little shit's telling his brother right this minute that I don't exist and that Sam's an idiot to think otherwise." He grinned again suggestively.
Gabrielle took a while to catch on before he also smiled.
"Good show sir!"
"Why thank you Gabrielle. And er...Gabrielle?"
"Yes my lord?"
"Enough of the brown nosing please. It's really not befitting of your status."
"Sorry my lord."
"I should think so."
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Some months later, and a few days after Dean's year...
Dean watched as Sam set the table for dinner. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing his little brother in a wheelchair, and hopefully never would. Sam was starting to get some feeling back in his legs, and could even move them with some effort.
Sam had the plates on his knees as he expertly wheeled round Bobby's kitchen table, then stopped when he sensed Dean's gaze on him. Sam smiled, and it was that smile that had Dean's own lips curling up at the corners.
"What? You ok Dean?" Sam looked so young and vulnerable sitting there staring up at him.
"Nothin'. You taken your pain killers?" Dean turned back to the stove, stirring the rice.
"Come on Dean," Sam asked softly. "What is it? What's buggin' ya?"
Turning the heat down on the curry, Dean pulled out a chair and straddled it. He had so much he wanted to say, so much to be thankful for...
Thanks for what you did for me...
Thanks for what you risked for me...
Thanks for not dying again...
I almost lost you...so many times that night!
A slide show ran through his mind of his brother trapped in the SUV, Sam strapped on the stretcher, being lifted into the helicopter, the chopper crashing and not knowing if he was alive, Sam losing consciousness under the influence of the drugs, going under...Sam not coming back...
"Dean!"
Dean blinked. "Sorry man. Mind was wanderin' there."
"Yeah, so I guessed." Sam studied him carefully, and did his usual trick of reading his brother's mind. "Ya know...I'd do it all again if it meant saving you from that deal." He added quietly, "and if I hadn't succeeded, it would've killed me."
Dean glanced at him sharply, but decided to leave it at that. The last thing Sam needed, or deserved right now, was his brother's wrath. Instead he smiled before asking the question that had been bugging him for a while.
"Sam? You really think that was Lucifer?" Dean stared at him.
"Not sure. I mean, it doesn't add up that he'd just let us off." Sam shifted a little in his wheelchair, his back aching a little. "But then, you are out of the deal. We foreclosed on it when we found the coach..."
When Sam had recovered from the fever he'd wanted to get out there right away to find the coach, but Dr Michaels, whilst keeping his groin well out of kicking distance, had refused right from the get go. And with Dean, Bobby and Ellen to back him up, the good Doctor won the battle.
But before long there was no stopping him, and the brothers headed out. Dean and Sam had come to the same conclusion.
Sam had recognised the site of the earth quake as the same location his SUV had been pushed off the road. It looked a little different from over fifty years ago but it was the same place, Sam had no doubts about that.
But Dean's experience soon clinched it.
Take a good look Winchester. Remember this, remember this place. Your brother's last stand do you think?
So, with Sam on guard just in case McAllister wasn't completely gone, Dean had set about with a small digger, and soon uncovered the sad, rusted remains of the coach. The brothers had stared at the metal skeleton for a few long minutes, sparing a thought for all the innocents that died that day in the quake, and all the others since.
Silently, Dean made his way up the steep slope, looped some rope around his waist, then, remembering the other part of the deal, looped another length around his brother before pulling him from his wheelchair. The other end had been attached to a tree on a pulley system, and Dean held Sam close as he rappelled back down to the metal graveyard, careful not jar his back.
As soon as Dean had him settled, he handed Sam the salt, gasoline and matches...
Sitting in Bobby's kitchen, the boys sipped a cold beer, each lost in their thoughts.
"Lucky you sat us a fair way up that slope before we did the salt and burn," Sam reflected casually. "And those were some impressive reflexes by the way!"
Dean snorted, nearly spilling his beer with laughter. "Yeah. Who'd have thought that after over fifty years that damn gas tank was still full!"
Sam grinned. "At least our eyebrows have finally grown back huh?"
When Bobby entered the kitchen it was to be greeted by raucous laughter.
"You boys still find that funny?" He struggled to hide his own amusement. "Aint that damn food ready yet? I'm starved!"
A few minutes later...
"Holy sweet Jesus on a fucking bike!" Bobby dashed for the sink and stuck his mouth under the faucet. When he finally emerged his bright red tongue was still hanging out his mouth, face flushed with perspiration. "What in hell was that stuff?"
Dean tried to look innocent but it was hopeless. Innocence had given up on him years ago and he was more than happy, seeing as he'd never had much use for it anyway. "It's beef madras dude. I added some coconut milk so it wouldn't be too hot...but I must've misread the recipe." He gave one of his quick grins.
When Bobby glared at him, Sam leaned over. "Yeah, but you used two thirds of the jar of curry paste dude, and there's no way any amount of coconut milk will compensate for that."
After an evening of laughter, mainly at Bobby's expense, all three sat out on the veranda and watched the very last of the sunset.
Sam was already drifting off to sleep, slumped in his wheelchair, and Dean placed a warm comforter round his shoulders.
"Dean? You really don't believe in God?" Bobby's question startled him at first, but then he sat back and thought for a moment.
"I've never believed in a higher power, and I detest anything that pre-destines people. The future is a blank sheet of paper, waiting for us to scrawl our own personal crap on it." Dean glanced over at Bobby with a slight smile, his eyebrows raised. "Kinda like graffiti, I guess. But now?" He sighed and faced the setting sun again. "I'm not entirely convinced God exists, no. But I'm maybe ready to think about it."
Bobby nodded a little surprised at the straight answer, took a sip of beer and also went back to his sunset study.
Unbeknownst to both men, Sam cracked open an eye and smiled. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he went back to sleep, content that he was finally getting somewhere with his stubborn, pig-headed, atheist older brother.
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Epilogue.
The punters of the Red Pig Road House sat up in wary silence as the main door slammed open and two men strode in. One was faintly familiar to Beer Gut serving behind the bar, but the taller one had a menacing smile he hadn't seen before.
Within an hour, the two strangers left with grazed knuckles, smug grins and around five hundred dollars in their back pockets.
In their wake could be heard groans, swearing, and the sounds of pig-like grunting as various humanoids picked themselves up from the floor, the tables, or even from out behind the bar.
No one was conned or Mickey Finned in the Red Pig Road House ever again.
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Authors notes:
Couldn't resist ending it in the bar where most of Dean's troubles started.
It's finally at an end, and I'm a little sad about that. I haven't seen the S3 finale, but I've read the synopsis and I reckon that my ending is much more fun! If a little bit Terry Pratchett's Disc World in places.
I know that my theories in this fic are flawed, but I look at this way: you've got to laugh eh?
And it's a nice idea that maybe someone is looking out for our boys, if somewhat surreptitiously at times!
So, many thanks for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a review.
Special thanks go out to all those wonderful reviewers of this story. The wheels of revolution continue to turn...
Kind regards,
ST.xxx.
