So...it's been about a year since I last updated this. Yeah... Sorry 'bout that :{ I kinda lost my inspiration for it and then I got a new job in another state and I found a new show that distracted me from this and the excuses just keep piling up don't they? Well good news is that I have this all finished now. I just have to edit the remaining chapters and post them. On an ironic note, The first time I tried to upload this, was down, so I gave up. Then the next time I tried, it was down again. Third times the charm I guess.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 13
Pathogen
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Sweet Dreams, Eurythmics
Dean was furious.
Scratch that, he was more than that, there were no words that could describe how he felt. The demon had found its way into Sam's head, into his dreams, and told him things that he himself would never say. Sam had to know that. His brother knew him better than anyone.
You keep telling yourself that Dean, the demon interrupted. Cause it sure looked like he took your words to heart last night.
Go to hell, Dean threw back.
Been there, done that, the demon retorted. Your comebacks are really getting old.
As old as your are, you hag? Dean said venomously.
The demon laughed.
Now that's what i'm talking about, the demon replied, "Tell you what, i'm feeling generous today."
That couldn't be good.
You must be getting tired of all that blackness by now, the demon said, Perhaps its time to take off the blinders, for good.
Save for what he had seen last night, it seemed like forever since he had seen what was going on in the outside world. The last thing he could remember seeing was Sam walking in front of a bus. The image had not left him since.
Why are you doing this? Dean asked.
Why, because Sammy is coming today, the demon said. How soon you forget.
Dean hadn't forgotten, but he wanted to hear in the demon's own words what the purpose of this all was.
The complete family reunion will have to wait though, the demon said. I figure I'll let your dad marinate in his anger and frustration for a while. That way, he'll be extra delightful when he finally finds his way here.
How considerate of you, Dean said sarcastically.
I aim to please, the demon said tipping his head.
With those words, the blackness around him blinked out of existence and was replaced with a whole new sight. He had thought that he was seeing the world around before, but this, this was as if he was back in control, seeing out of his own eyes, touching, and smelling the world around him. What he had seen before was like looking at a television. This...this was...too good to be true.
The demon opened a door, reminding him that he still was not in control, revealing the room from the dream last night. He walked toward the window and peered through the shades. The light of morning was slowly sweeping away the darkness.
A dark colored van pulled up next to the curb, right in front of the building. A fierce looking viking woman was painted on the side. Was that a polar bear next to her? He couldn't help but be intrigued by who would drive such a vehicle.
Then the front door opened and Sam stepped out.
What the..?
He never would've guessed.
Your brother's changed these past few weeks Deanie, the demon said.
Dean ignored the demon and watched as Sam glanced up at the building before him. He wanted to sigh, but his body wasn't his to control. Sam had changed and it wasn't just the ride he had come here in. Physically, there was a starved look about him. He was already tall and lanky, but now even more so. His eyes looked dead and hallow, his hair unkempt and scraggly. His posture was slouched.
Beyond physical appearances, there was a quiet strength burning beneath the surface. He could feel it. He knew his brother even better than he knew himself. Sam had not given up.
Look closer Dean Dear, the demon said.
For once he willingly did as he was told. He looked at Sam intently. The closer he looked the more he felt that here was something else...off. Like a dark cloud surrounding him, suffocating him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there and he didn't like it.
The demon smiled in glee at his conclusion.
Good catch Sherlock, the demon said. Somethings up with little baby Winchester.
Don't sound so excited, Dean thought back.
Or what? the demon asked. Last time I checked, you weren't in any position to tell me what to do.
Dean seethed.
I will find a way to undo you, Dean said, Mark my words.
The demon smirked.
You'll try.
The drive to Jerome had been just about as interesting as watching grass grow. Flat desert for as far as the eye could see had been his view for the last 4 hours or so. Morning was dawning around him illuminating the focus of his desire.
The city was something out of an old John Wayne movie. the structures were worn and dusty looking. the roads were steep and winding. Coming to a stop, he switched the van off and just sat there. What he had seen in his vision had etched itself in his mind so that by the time he arrived, he knew exactly where to go. Now that he was here though, he had a moment to think about foolish this all was.
He was alone in a town he had only seen in his dreams with no weapons, going against two people who had it out for him, one of which with grand plans of domination and another with no plan at all other than to kill him. Both were deadly in their own way.
What am I, chopped liver? a voice echoed in his head.
Though he had hated that voice in the beginning, now he was starting to like it.
Sorry, he thought back.
Chopped liver I tell you, the voice muttered.
Though at times malevolent, there was an endearing quality to the voice. It hadn't brought any harm to him after all. In fact it was there when he would otherwise be a heap on the ground, vulnerable to anyone and anything that passed by.
Are we gonna get a move on? the voice asked.
Sam sighed and opened the door. There was nothing else to do but get on with it. Closing the door behind him, Sam frowned. All of sudden he felt...different. Something had shifted and he could figure out what.
We're back among friends Sammy boy, the voice said triumphantly.
Friends?
You figure it out soon, the voice said mysteriously. Don't you worry a hair on your head. I've got your back.
Sam didn't know why, but somehow, that promise didn't leave him reassured.
Gazing up at the building before him, he took in every detail of it's exterior. It was a quaint two story building. Porches on both floors wound around the entire place. Made of wood and worn around the edges, it was everything you would expect to find in an old western town.
In his dream the place had seemed so much larger; the hallways and stairs innumerable, but standing here now, it wasn't really all that grand or scary looking. Yet, still there was a dark cloud hanging over him at the prospect of going inside.
Just go inside you wuss, the voice said.
Sam took a deep breath and move forward. When he reached the front door, he took a moment to appreciate the fine work that had gone into its creation. The door was made of a rich colored wood that he couldn't name and was beautifully carved. It was heavy too.
Once inside, all was dark just as it was in his vision. As he walked he listened carefully for any sound. All was silent. Then a light appeared in front of him. It moved away from him down a hallway. He followed.
Eventually the light led him to a curving stairway. Following the light, he found himself on the second floor. He still couldn't make out much with only the pale light guiding him to serve as a light. Then just as in his vision, the light moved to the end of the hallway and disappeared through a door.
This was it. No going back. But no matter how much he knew his dad hated him and wanted him dead, he could not let him go to hell for it. It was him or dad and he would rather it be him. After the horrible things he had done, even hell would be too kind a destination fro him. So he walked forward burying all that doubt and fear deep down in his mind.
When he got to the door, he didn't even have to open it. It opened on it's own.
"Hello there Sammy," Dean said, standing there in all his glory, looking unharmed and well rested. "Glad you could join the party."
Sam watched him wearily.
"What now?" he asked.
"Now we get to the fun part," Dean said. "The preparation."
"You never did say what for," Sam said as if they were getting ready for some mundane everyday event and not a trip to hell.
Dean shifted his weight.
"Cause it's not really important," Dean replied. "At least for you. You won't even care by the time the time comes."
Sam frowned.
Dean smiled.
"Never you mind the details," Dean said. "Everything will be taken of. You might experience some pain though, let me warn you. But soon, it will all just disappear."
Sam didn't have any time to think of the significance of those words before everything went black and he knew no more.
"Take him to the cooler," the demon ordered.
The two demons that had come up behind Sam nodded and picked him up from the floor with ease, as if he were a rag doll.
The cooler? Dean asked. What are you going to do to him?
The demon smiled.
Ignorance is bliss, it replied, For you at least.
Tell me! Dean ordered.
The demon paused, thinking.
Fine, it replied. But don't tell me I didn't warn you.
Dean waited for an explanation.
I'll do even better than that Dean, the demon said. I'll show you.
The demons that had taken Sam away had already disappeared down the hall. With the morning light starting to come in through the windows, he could make out a few pictures hanging on the wall.
The stair case railings were some of the fanciest he had ever seen; all carved and smooth. Downstairs, the view wasn't much different. All doors seemed to be shut. his footsteps on the wooden floor were the only sound made.
Eventually they passed what looked like the front door. Beyond that, the hallway opened up into a large front room. He walked right around the antique looking looking couches and coffee tables and toward an archway that lead into another large room. The next room was the dinning room judging by the small tables with neat little vases at the center of each one. The tables filled the entire room. Weaving around those, they ended up at a rather nondescript looking door, this time opening to reveal a kitchen. Ignoring everything else, they man a beeline for a door that was on the opsite side of the room.
When he turned the door knob, he noticed that it locked on the outside.
Can't have whats in, get out, the demon explained.
Stairs leading downwards greeted them on the other side. Upon descending them, the first thing Dean noticed was how cold it was.
Sure beats hellfire, the demon quipped.
All he could think of was how Sam would freeze if he was going got be kept here. When he had seen Sam earlier, all he had been wearing was a thin sweater.
The same you left him in on that side of the road in Illinois, the demon added helpfully.
That was you genius, Dean said angrily.
Not to Sam, the demon replied.
Dean didn't reply. He was too busy staring at Sam. They had walked to a place in the room that was well hidden from anyone just entering from the stairs. Behind all the shelves an boxes and behind an old refrigerator under the stairs lay Sam. He was in a bed or rather a cot. He was tied down; his legs, arms and head held back by unforgiving straps. The two demons stood on his other side.
"Are you ready Sam?", the demon asked.
Sam turned as much as he could under his restraints to look at him. There were no emotions in his gaze.
"The more you fight the harder it will be," the demon said walking closer until he was looking down directly at Sam.
Sam only blinked.
"You don't say," the demon said boredly.
Dean could only wonder at how Sam was acting. The Sam he knew would have been fighting this the whole way, struggling till he dropped. This Sam was just...wrong.
He felt the demon smile.
"Sweet dreams Sammy,"
And just like that Sam's eyes closed and he was deathly still.
What did you do to him? Dean asked frantially.
"He's not dead, if that's what your thinking" the dmeon answered, "He's just... in another reality of sorts."
Dean thought hard about everything the demon had said last night, trying to connect the dots.
You made Sam think he had to go to hell or dad would, Dean said finally. That had to be why Sam had walked so willingly into all of this. But you never were going to do any such thing.
The demon smirked.
I can't help what Sam thought, the demon answered.
So no one is going to hell, Dean asked That was just to get Sam here.
The demon smiled.
Not so fast, the demon said. Someone has to go for all this to work out as it should.
Dean was silent.
What, no volunteers? the demon said. You would rather your father went after all?
Dean didn't say anything.
You do! The demon aid triumphantly. Imagine if poor Sammy were to know about that.
There are no words for my father, Dean said with anger. No words to describe how I feel about him.
So you would sign him over to the devil even if it resulted in the end of the world as you know it?
Dean would have frowned if he could.
You Winchester men, all hotheads, not thinking beyond your little family feuds, except for little Sammy here, the demon said. It seems he has finally managed to overcome that personal failing.
Shut up! Dean said finally. Just shut up!
Can't take the heat? the demon taunted. Take this then.
He blinked and he was suddenly in another place, one so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.
It was a warm inviting home that greeted his vision. The living room he was in was neat and clean but felt lived in. There were pictures on every surface of happy smiling people. Upon closer inspection, the people in the photos were more than familiar to him.
"Mom," he whisphered taking a picture off th mantel beside him. He looked at the other picture there and found others with his mom, his dad, sometimes the both of them, Sam and him, and another with a beautiful woman holding a nweborn baby in her arms. He didn't have long to think about what it all meant as a sudden yell from upstairs broke him away.
"You're not real!" a voice yelled.
The sound of a door slamming and someone running down the stairs followed the declaration. Soon Dean saw just who was making the racket.
"Sam!" Dean called out when Sam turned a corned and came running toward him.
But Sam didn't reply or even seem to notice him. Running straight through him, Sam headed right for the front door, wrenched it open and ran outside.
"What the?" Dean mouthed looking at his chest, then turning around sharply in the direction that Sam had ran. What would cause Sam to react like that?
There was no time to figure that out though. He rushed out the front door and after Sam only to find himself in another place once again. This time he was outside on the side of a deserted looking highway. It was pitch black, the middle of the night. In one direction was nothing but darkness, the other, he could see the bright light of a shopping center not too far away. He looked for Sam.
Sam was walking, but not toward the saftey of the light. He walking away toward the dark nothingness. In the dim light, he realized that Sam was wearing his bright blue pajama pants. They were his favorite, but not enough to wear outside like this. Not only that, but Sam wasn't wearing a coat. No coat in this weather? Sam was nuts. He rushed up to Sam so that he was right beside him.
"Sam," he asked, "Where are you going?"
Sam didn't answer or even acknowledge his presence. Curious. Dean trust out a hand into Sam. Just as he had suspected, it went right through him. Sam couldn't see him. He supossed that this was why the demon was only too happy to let him in on this. To see Sam's suffering but not be able to do anything... that dam demon.
He looked into Sam's face. Sam was miserable. His eyes were downcast, his hands in his pockets. He looked so forelorn. He wondered what all this was about and where they were.
Up ahead, a car could be seen in the distance. Its headlights flashed them randomly as it swerved. Dean shook his head, drunk drivers. They were as bad as the evil things they killed every week. The car came closer. Though he was all but invisible to Sam, he didn't want to risk anything so he moved to the far side of the road. Sam however, didn't move; he didn't even look up.
"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Move!"
As if he heard him, Sam looked up, but it was too late.
Dean could only stand there as Sam went flying behind him into the darkness beside the road.
"Sam!" Dean called out, knwoing it was futile and Sam couldn't hear him.
He blinked.
It was still dark, but somehow he knew that he was not in the same place. A voice yelling out from behind, made him turn around.
"You'll stay where you are if you know what's good for you."
"You'll take me with you if you know what's good for you," Sam threw back.
Dean could only star slack jawed as Sam argued with...himself?
The first punch came out of nowhere, knocking Sam backwards. Sam gingerly touched his jaw. Dean's eyes widened as he watched himslef harm his little brother. His heart broke when he heard the quiet whispher that follwed.
"Why?"
Dean watched silently as his other self walked away toward the dirvers side door of the Impala as if to leave, but surely he wouldn't leave Sam like this?
Sam ran after his other self and tackled him to the ground. Now there was Sammy he had grown up with.
"You can't leave me here Dean," Sam pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone."
The way Sam was pleading made Dean want to look away, but he didn't. He had never seen Sam plead with such desperation in his eyes ever and it was unsettling.
His other self looked sorry, but only for a moment.
"It has to be this way," he heard himself say before his other self raised his fist again.
The second blow sent Sam to the ground on his back. Dean took a step forward, but restrained himself. There was nothing he could do as his other self hit Sam again and again; over and over.
"You stay away from me Sammy, you hear me?" his other self said standing up. "Don't you dare follow me."
"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."
He saw Dean shake his head.
"No can do kiddo."
Dean watched with anger in his eyes as his other self opened the door of the Impala, ignited her engine and drove away without a backward glance.
The next thing he knew, he was in a dark room. All he could hear was ragged breathing.
Then the light went on and all he could see was blood everywhere and Sam looking horrified and guilt ridden.
He couldn't have...could he?
A woman, or at least that he thought it was, lay mangled on the eyes looked on the body and he backed up until he hit the wall and slowly slid down it. Sam looked miserable and alone and there was nothing Dean could do.
Then, still staring at Sam, he noticed it had gotten cold all of a sudden. That was because he wasn ot in the room anymore. He was outside, in a park somewhere. Snow covered the ground. Sam was sitting on the ground, his back to a large sturdy tree. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he was rocking back and forth mumbling.
What was the point of this all?
Sam froze. Dean looked around them. In the distance someone was approaching. It couldn't be...
The scene before him seemed to fast forward as his dad rushed up to where Sam was. Mouths moved but no sound was heard. Then his dad was flying into a tree and the scene changed again.
Now he was wathcing himself push Sam into a wall violently. The fear in Sam's eyes was tangeble.
Then Sam was lying in the middle of a road, a bus stopped jsut feet away, a large crowd closing in on him menacingly. But just a moment later they were flying everywhich way away from him.
John was pointing a gun at Sam next in an unknown kitchen. Then their places were switched and Sam was walking away from John as flames began to grow around him.
The a gun fired. And the world seemed to freeze.
How could it be?
"Dean!" Sam shouted.
They were in a werehouse of some sort. The gathered crowd was diappating as Sam rushed to the other Dean, the gun slipping from his grasp.
"How could you?" the other Dean accused.
This never happened. What was this?
This, Dean, is reality, a voice echoed around him.
Dean shook his head.
There is so much that Sam has seen and done that you cannot posibly even begun to understand or even comprehend.
He watched as Sam sobbed on the floor over what looked like his dead body.
He has been manipulated, coerced, violated, beaten, killed, brouhgt back, betrayed, the list goes on and on. It's actually quite sad.
Your point? Dean asked looking away from Sam.
It was all for you Dean, the demon answered. All for what you could have had, for what he took away from you.
The darknes of the werehouse faded into another scene. He was back where he had started. The house was warm and cozy ad a wonderful smell was coing from the kitchen. Not quite knowing how he knew, he walked toward it and found two women talking as they cooked.
Mom, he mouthed.
the other person looked so mch like her that she had to be related. When she was refered to as mom he figured the woman was his grandmother. He looked at her sadly. He had never known her, or least he didnt remember her.
Laughter from another room caght his attention. Following the sound, he found himself in the living room. Two men were sitting with their backs to him facing the TV. A football game was on.
Surprising him, a small head bounced up from beside one of the men, leaned on the couch, and looked right at him. It was a little blond haired boy probably no older then 3 or 4.
"Who are you?" he asked innocently.
One of the men tuned to the boy.
"Who are you talking to Dean?"
Dad?
It couldn't be. This man was too carefree, watching of all things a football game. He didn't look as worn out or jaded. He looked...happy...content...kind?
To his right, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Through the window he looked out ointo the backyard. It was a christmas postcard of a view. Little kids throwing snowballs and building forts. He had never really had that sort of experience growing up. It looked fun but no doubt wouldv'e been seen as a pointless waste of time by John. Thus the scene was foreign to him. He turned away from the window.
Only to find that the football game that was on just minutes earlier was no longer on. And it was evening now. The people siting in the room were different too, and older. His other self was now the same age as he was, and John had a few more wrinkles and graying hair. Mom sat next to him on the couch, but she didn't seem any older, just more beautiful. He walked back to the couch to get a better look at what they were doing. It was then he noticed the very pregnat girl sitting across from his parents. His other self was sitting beside her holding up a tiny shirt.
Get. Out. No. Way.
This isn't real! Dean shouted.
Frowning, he watched as his other self stood up and looked right at him.
"It could've been," he said.
Dean shook his head in denial.
"You can't tell me that you don't want this," the other dean accused. "You'd be lying if you said no."
There was no reply. Only silence.
What do you want? Dean yelled looking around himself. Why show me this?
Why indeed, a voice answered.
It was a different voice. It wasn't the one he had grown accustomed to, yet still familiar in a strange and distant way, like he had heard it before. Then to his shock, Sam appeared right in front of him, next to his other self.
"You tell your handler, that two can play this game," Sam said sounding nothing like what he was used to. There was a malace there that sent shivers down his spine. It was a complete 360 from the way he had last seen Sam laying on that cot tied down and resigned to his fate.
"You're not Sam," Dean said. It was a stab in the dark, but what did he have to lose?
Sam smiled wide.
"Perceptive," he replied. "Looks like we have a winner here folks."
"Who are you?" Dean asked.
"Ah the million dollar question," Sam said airily. "To Sam I'm just another part of his fractured mind."
Dean frowned.
"But I'm not," Sam said. "I'm so much more."
"But were in his mind," Dean said. "Where is he?"
"He is where I put him," the person in front of him answered. "He sees what I let him, he does what I let him. I control him. I feed off him. His weakness is my strength."
"Who are you?" Dean asked again.
"Wouldn't you like to know," came the reply. "But you better get used to me cause soon it will just be me in here and when that happens I will get my revenge."
"Now, as lovely as your presence here has been, I have work to do," Not-Sam said nonchalantly. "No doubt your mistress will be frothing at the mouth to know what is going on in here after this little taste, but I can't have that. She has the gall to think she is running the shots around here. Soon she'll see. Soon."
Suddenly, he felt the sensation of flying backwards as everything whirled into darkness around him. Then with a crash, revealing just how fast he was going, he hit a barier. How this was possible was beyond his frazzled mind to comprehend. Adding further to his confusion, the area aroud him abrubtly exploded into vivid images flying around him. Scenes of terror and torture, unadulterated pleasure and even moreso than the rest, burning flames. Each one different from the last.
A loud pain filled screem broke through the air and brought Dean to his knees, his hands covering his ears. The very air around him seemed to vibrate, to shiver. It was as if it was was crumbling down around him.
What was going on?