CHAPTER 14

The road to perdition

The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me

It just won't leave me alone…

Road to nowhere, Ozzy Osbourne

Dean!

For just a moment, Dean had been standing right next to him, then he was gone and all was dark. There were no moon or stars above him, yet he could tell he was outside. The chilly air surrounded him and made him shiver. Slowly, his eyes began to adjust and he started to realized that the area around him wasn't as empty as it had seemed. Up ahead, was a town that rose with the mountainside it was on.

He remembered passing by this area on his way up the mountain to the hotel. How he got from the opposite side of town to where he was now was worrying at best. What was Dean playing at? First he was in the cooler, then in that strangely familiar room with Dean and now on the edge of town.

Now what? What was Dean trying to accomplish by all this?

He had thought he was submitting to hell, but this didn't look like Hell. It wasn't even hot. But then again, who really knew what it was like. It wasn't like those who went could come back and tell the tale. He started walking. The silence of the surrounding night was loud in his ears. No crickets, no birds, no wind. Nothing.

Behind him he heard the sound of gravel moving. Not daring to breath, his eyes wide, he slowly turned around. He was out in the open. There was no hiding.

Preparing for the worst he cautiously opened his eyes. Someone was there standing in the darkness. From the what he could make out in the dim light, the figure was about his size and standing as still as the dead. The person didn't make a sound.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

Silence was his answer. The figure moved toward him. Sam took a step back, but not fast enough. It was with even wider eyes that he watched as the person walked right through him as if he was nothing.

He stiffly tuned around and watched the person walk toward the town. He was torn about following. Hell, he was torn about many things right now. The big question on his mind was that of reality. Was this...real? or just a dream? The last he could remember was being brought down stairs into a freezing cold room and then seeing some memories he'd rather forget. Was that the dream and this reality or was it the reverse? He was loosing his grip on what was real and what wasn't. He supposed it was bound to happen when dreams came to life, and life's twists and turns became so unbelievable that it just had to be a dream.

Still not sure what was going on here, or if he would ever understand, he followed after the dark figure.

There were no people he could see around them. No lights lit in any of the buildings around him. The whole place looked like an abandoned ghost town. If anything, it looked even more desolate than in his previous visions of the place.

Saaaaammmmmmmy a voice whispered stopping him in his tracks and drawing his attention toward the next street. The voice also seemed to attract the attention of the person he was following as they had stopped as well.

He frowned. Just who was this person?

The street was quiet now, no trace of the hissing voice. Sam smirked to himself as he saw the person in front of him move in the opposite direction from where the voice had seemingly urged him to go. If he had had to make the choice, he would've done that too. Not wanting to be alone, even though the person he was following didn't seem to even notice him, Sam quickly followed.

In the silence of the open street, Their footsteps, though quieter than most people were capable of, thundered in his ears. It was then that he noticed something off about the person he was following. The rhythm of their steps was off as if they were limping, but it was so slight that, if they were in more normal surroundings with people bustling about and more noise to cover the sound of his steps, no one would notice. But in the absolute silence of the night it was obvious to him. He filed that away in his mind.

Up ahead, he saw a light that he could have sworn wasn't their just a moment ago. He quickly ducked into the shadows of the building next to him not caring that so far the only person around hadn't been able to see him. Said person also had moved into the shadows, his action mirroring Sam's to a tee. When he looked back at the light it was no more. The area was as dark as ever. Still he looked.

There!

Another movement and a slight glimmer. He held his breath as he watched, not wanting to be discovered. Then abruptly, a shadow quickly passed from one side of the street to the other and disappeared into the darkness there.

Someone else was here. Was it Dean? one of his minions?

It seemed that this other person was just as curious as he was. Sam followed, staying the shadows. He watched the person he was following more carefully. Stepping out into the street the person looked around himself and right at Sam to make sure he wasn't being followed. In that moment, in what little light there was from the moon above, Sam finally knew who he was following.

It was himself.

And from the way that his other self held his side as he turned to look around, he could tell that he was hurt far more than what a slight limp would indicate. Deciding the coast was clear, they rushed across the street and into a pitch black alley. It was a skinny passage. He couldn't even fully extend his arms when he tried. Only the sound of the footsteps in front of him guided him.

After a darkness that seemed to last forever and press down on him as if to slow him, he emerged on the other side. Peering into the street. he found that it was a cul-de-sac of sort with the road going to his left. He looked down that street and was surprised to see a light in the distance. If he squinted he could swear the building the light was in front of was white, just like a church.

It was deja vu. He had been here before, had seen this all before, but when?

Then, eyes open wide, he saw a arm seemingly come out from his chest reaching toward his other self. A body followed. Stunned, Sam stood there as the hand attached itself to the back of the shirt the other Sam was wearing and pulled him right through where he standing. Breaking himself from his frozen state he turned on the spot and stared into the dark alley not knowing what was going on.

There sounds of a struggle. Someone hitting the wall hard, a sharp exhale of air, flesh hitting flesh, something hitting the ground hard, and then heavy breathing.

He struggle to see what had happened, but nothing was revealed to him.

A sudden hiss came from the darkness then the sound of something rubbing against the ground as if something was sweeping away dirt or drawing something on the concrete. It was no use speaking out to get an answer. He would only get nothing in return. The next sound he heard after a few minutes had passed was the sound of something being dragged.

The other Sam emerged from the darkness seconds later, his right arm glistening int he dim light. What that blood? Just what had he done?

Stupid girl, a voice echoed in his mind. She can't stop me.

Sam froze. The voice sent shivers through him. Gone was the snarky tone he had grown used to. In it place was a dark sense of power and control. Most of all, something evil radiated in his wake as his other self continued on toward the end of the street ahead.

Just as Sam was about to follow, the light at the end of the street suddenly grew brighter as if it was a spotlight aimed right at them. He turned away from the bright light and finally saw just what he had done in the alley way. There was a blonde haired girl, her hair splayed out like a fan behind her, laying on the ground, blood falling down her forehead. She lay within a red circle, a five pointed star painted beneath her. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that, just for that brief moment of light, she had stared right at him. Not trough him, but at him, like she knew he was there.

"Sam," she whispered. "I'm only trying to help..."

In the darkness, she was quiet. Sam was already a fair distance away. How could he possibly hear her? This was a dream. He told himself firmly. He couldn't really help that girl. Could he?

Making his mind up, he followed after his other self, leaving the girl behind. He put any thoughts of her far back in his mind. They were now walking toward where the light had come from and in what seemed like the longest walk ever, they were at the front doors of a church. As he stood in front of those doors that Star Wars saying about having a bad feeling was all that was going through his mind.

In front of him, his other self stood still in front of the doors, but only for a moment. Moving abruptly, the other Sam threw out his hands and shoved the double doors open with a resounding bang. It was quite the entrance.

"Ah, dearest brother...You've finally arrived," came a loud voice from inside.

Sam stayed in the doorway as his other self walked toward the front of the church.

"Do you come to accept your fate? or to tempt it?" Dean asked standing from the pulpit.

As Dean walked around the pulpit and down the steps so he was on he same level as the other Sam, he noticed the body laying haphazardly against the wall between where Dean and his other self stood.

"Accepting fate would be..too predictable of me," the other Sam replied.

At the new voice in the room, the hunched over body started to move. Soon a head popped up and Sam saw who it was.

"Demon spawn!" John yelled out drunkenly, staring at the other Sam.

He was surprised at how desperate his father looked, like he hadn't had a decent meal or nights sleep in weeks.

Leaning heavily on the wall, John propped himself up and stood on unsteady legs. He walked toward the other Sam, a dark look in his eyes. Sam wished he could see the emotions going through his other self.

"You," his father spat out. "You pushed him to this." he said gesturing at Dean.

"Absolutely," Sam heard his other self say. "But not completely."

John frowned and tilted his head as if to study the boy in front of him.

"So cold," he muttered, before tackling him to the ground. The other Sam only laughed as he threw john off with ease into the wall on the other side of the church from where he had started. Picking himself off the ground gracefully, the other Sam stood once again, a dark aura of confidence surrounding him.

"I can hear what your pathetic excuse of a father is thinking," the other Sam spoke, his voice low and dangerous, "Just itching to get out and wrap his hands around my throat."

Dean smiled.

"You would like that wouldn't you," Dean replied, stepping closer to the other Sam.

"All the better to look into those eyes and see the pain in them," the other Sam taunted. "Pain that I caused."

"Lets not get too prideful here," Dean said, "You can't get all the credit for that."

Sam just stood a the door not moving. He was watching himself talk with Dean, but a the same time it felt like he was watching two different people who just happened to look like them. He wished he was anywhere but here, doing anything other than watching this because he knew this could only end in tragedy. What little hope he held within his heart began to fade.

He smiled.

Sam was putty in his hands. It had taken many failures, this boy was beyond unpredictable, but here he was with a distraught and discouraged Sam Winchester. He could already feel his strength growing as the boy slowly gave up. All he had to do was make sure he continued to do so.

To do that, he would just need some time and since Sam wasn't going anywhere in his current imprisonment, he had plenty of that. It was a good thing that he was a very patient person. In his situation, others would have moved on. Not that he could move on if he wanted to. He was in a very unique, if precarious position. Failure was not an option if he wanted to continue to exist which he very much did.

Add to the whole complicated situation was another demon who was encroaching on what they thought was territory up for grabs. They wanted to have all the glory and that just wouldn't do. He hadn't worked this hard to be overlooked like that. Once he had Sam under control that would be his next target. For now, Sam was his focus.

Tapping into the boys psychic abilities, he amplified the signal, for lack of a better term, and sent out his feelers for what the future had to hold. Then, picking and choosing what would have the desired effect, he gathered up the desired bits of the future that he then warped and manipulated so that he could feed them back to Sam in his "visions" and complete the boys destruction. The truth was a necessary part of the whole equation. He couldn't make everything up. And truth be told, he didn't want to. All too often the truth was so much better and so much worse material to play with than he could have ever come up with on his own.

A soft nudge distracted him from his thoughts of victory.

What have we here, he thought to himself.

The nudge became more persistent. He smiled to himself as what it was became clear to him.

Gotta love the bond of two brothers.

He recalled how Sam had been able to use their bond both unknowingly and knowingly to send his brother visions. How could he have forgotten that? He smirked. He wasn't the only one. Sam didn't seem to remember either, otherwise he would've figured it all out by now.

That pesky pathway from one mind to another. That must of been how the other demon was able to know where he was even after they left Sam on the roadside. That must of been how the other demon was able to send Sam the message that had brought him to this dusty ghost town. But for all the information that had been shared, his existence had not been one of them. He truly was a phantom in Sam's mind, undetectable and unseen. He would have to be more careful though. Having sent such a pointed message to the other demon via the link, that demon was sure to come back stronger than ever to find out just what had sent it. Once it recovered of course, which bought him time. He would use that time to fortify Sam's mind. He couldn't have some rampaging force destroying Sam's mind before he could gain proper control of it.

There was another nudge. Persistent are we? He thought for a moment before coming to a glorious conclusion. He tweaked what he had gleaned from the future once again. He was gonna kill two birds with one stone tonight.

Dean blinked.

He was standing in the middle of a deserted dark street. Straight ahead of him was a small white building with a bright light hanging beside the open doors. From the looks of it, it was a church. He looked around himself in the darkness. From what he could piece together from the short glimpses he had gotten when the demon had let him, he was in Jerome, a town on a mountainside. Question was, was this real? Was he in control now or was this something else?

In the moments prior to opening his eyes to this new and sudden sight he had been following a trail.

As soon as the fireworks had erupted before him of random images and feelings he had been rightly shocked. But he a was a quick thinker. He realized that what he was seeing had nothing to do with him. And as soon as he realized that, he started analyzing where the memories were coming from and why. The deeper he looked the more the images narrowed down into a small stream flowing away from him. He followed and soon found a tunnel leading into darkness save for the light coming from the thin thread of memory. He was still in his head. He knew it because he could still feel the sensations of the outside world just as he had for the past few weeks when the demon was in control.

What ever was happening in his head, it had separated him, in a way, from the demon. He wasn't bound, or at least he didn't feel that way anymore. His mind was his once again. He didn't feel the demon watching his every move, or rather thought. It was caught up in what ever the stream of light was.

Here on the street, he still stood; lost in confused thoughts. Then, there was a loud sound that came from the church drawing his attention there. Curious, yet cautious Dean crossed the short distance.

The doors to the church were wide open. Inside, he spotted two people: Sam and...himself?

"So what do we do now?" the other Dean voiced. "The both of us...two powerful entities both working toward the same goal."

It chilled Dean to hear that the demon thought of Sam that way.

"Indeed," Sam said coldly. "But only one of us can rule until that goal is accomplished."

The darkness that Dean had sensed upon Sam's arrival had only grown since then. He could feel it even as he stood in the doorway watching.

"I take it you expect to be the one ruling over us all," the demon replied.

Dean couldn't see Sam's face, but he was sure Sam was smiling.

"Naturally," Sam said.

Demon Dean smiled back.

"Ah," he said raising an eyebrow. "But you don't seem to remember how you are expendable while I'm not...at least until the right time."

"My how you forget," Sam replied. "How do you think our master would feel if he found out that you killed Sam Winchester, his chosen vessel?"

Woah, vessel? For who? The only master he could think that they were talking of was Lucifer and that was not any comfort. Dean's eyes were wider than they had been just moments before.

Sam stood in shock. Vessel? Satan? That was the only master he could come up within the context of the situation. He would die before that happened; kill himself even.

"You would do good to bow before me," the other Sam said with authority. "I opened the doors so that you could escape hell."

A pang of guilt went through him at the reminder of what he had done.

"You can't just waltz in here and take control," not-Sam said. "You will learn your place."

Dean started screaming in pain right then. The other Sam had not even lifted a hand. There was nothing being done to Dean that Sam could see that would be the cause of the screaming he heard. Then just as quick as it had come, Dean stopped screaming and slumped to the ground.

"That's a new one." Dean gritted out.

"This is the master's chosen vessel for a reason," the other Sam replied.

He sounded not at all adverse to being a vessel, something that Sam couldn't understand. What could possibly happen to him to make him not have a problem with that?

"Very clever of you," Dean said standing up. "But there is one colossal crack in your bullet proof plan."

"And just what is that?" the other Sam asked.

All was quiet for moment. Dean wonder just what the demon had up its sleeve. Then,

"Remember after you got out of the hospital on Christmas?"

Dean tilted his head. The change in tone was subtle, so subtle, but he recognized it. The demon had given up control, he was looking at himself. The demon was giving him a chance to get through to Sam. But why?

"You told me that nothing could ever make up for all the bad things you did, not even saving my life, remember?" Dean said, his voice pleading.

Sam said nothing.

"This is your chance," Dean said. "You move forward with this, you do what you came here to do tonight, you'll doom this whole world, millions of lives will be lost, and you will only have been used."

"Put a stop to this Sam," Dean said, "I'm begging you, if not for the sake of the world, do it for me."

In the ensuing silence following Dean's last statement, all was quiet. Then a short laugh that grew into an almost maniacal stream, burst from the other Sam's mouth.

Sam wanted to cry. Dean's plea had been so passionate, so heartfelt. There was the brother he had been missing all this time. And he only response was to laugh in his face?

"You're still operating on the belief that I still care about you," the other Sam said still laughing slightly. "You're even more naive than I thought."

Dean looked so hurt, it broke Sam's heart. He wanted to run over to his other self and punch the living daylights out of him. More than that thought, he wanted to yell out for the entire world to hear that he loved Dean and didn't want any part of this mess. But he knew no one would hear. He was powerless.

Abruptly, Sam was quiet. The laughter was no more. The other Sam fell to his knees as if he had been shot. Then a tiny voice so quiet it was almost nothing more than a whisper spoke.

"I wish I could believe you," the other Sam said. "But it's too late."

He noticed Dean take in a sharp breath.

"Sammy?" he said rushing forward dropping to his knees. "It's never to late; never."

Sam walked forward into the church in a daze. Gone was the cocky over confident persona that had been present just moments before. In its place was a beaten and broken boy, void of hope and resigned to his fate.

"I'm too weak," he whispered, sinking further into Dean's grasp. "I didn't figure it out soon enough."

Silent tears fell down Dean's cheeks as he shook his head in denial.

"Goodbye Dean," the other Sam said before his eyes slowly closed and his body went completely limp.

"No Sam," Dean said pulling him close. "Noooooo!"

Although he couldn't bare what he was seeing, he couldn't look away. Sam was dead in his other self's arms. He was now standing just feet away.

The other Dean sat on the ground rocking Sam back and forth in his arms. Then he paused for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he realized something. It was a habit Sam had told him gave him away every time he had an idea. He didn't have to wonder long at what that idea was.

Reaching down Sam's back and pulling his shirt up, Dean pulled out a nasty looking knife out of the waistband of his jeans. He contemplated the knife for a moment. It was the same knife that had killed that demon girl in the graveyard. As soon as Sam had plunged it into her stomach, she had lit up from within, screamed out in unearthly pain, and fallen to the ground dead.

Dean frowned as the realization of what the other Dean had in mind dawn on him. But no sooner had the thought came to him before the other Dean went flying backwards away from a suddenly alive Sam.

"He definitely won't be happy about this," Sam muttered picking himself up off the ground.

The other Dean groaned from the front of the church where he had landed. The knife was now laying on the ground just out of reach.

Sam walked up the isle toward Dean his eye on the knife.

"Thought you would just off yourself with that pretty little toothpick, eh?" Sam sounded murderous.

Dean threw himself toward the knife, but found himself frozen just as he was about to grab the knife.

Sam was almost within reach. Dean watched his other self struggle mightily to break the hold that was on him to no avail. His attention was so focused on the struggle for the knife that when an unexpected blur that rose from the pews and tackled the reawakened Sam to the ground, he nearly jumped.

In that moment, the other Dean, free from the hold placed on him, finally grasped the knife. Not daring to pause, not even to see what had happened to free him, he quickly plunged the knife into his chest.

Dean's eyes widened as he heard familiar voice screaming out faintly, echoing in the small church.

"Sammy?" he called out.

Sam cried out in denial as he watched Dean raise the knife up before stabbing himself with it. Tears blocked his vision and he had to look way to vanquish them. When he looked back at Dean, he was lying on the floor, his eyes still open and looking directly at him though not seeing him. The knife was firmly in his chest and had done its job.

He turned his attention away from Dean unable to look at his dead body, only to see his other self bash John's head onto the corner of the nearest bench repeatedly. Blood trickled down the side of his face and his eyes rolled in his head. He was no longer fighting back, his arms moved at his sides like rag doll. It was too much. He turned around and starting running.

He ran out of the church, and out into the dark of the night. Tears blinded him and his lungs burned for air, but still he ran. He was running from what he had seen but couldn't seem to run fast enough as the images flashed behind his eyes every time he blinked.

This time though, when he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the freezing cold of the cooler. He tried to move his hands and feet but found that they were restrained with leather straps.

He had to get out of here; he needed to run, to get as far away from here as possible. Not caring how he did it, he concentrated and pulled as hard he could against the straps. Not even a minute had passed before the straps abruptly snapped, freeing his appendages an allowing him to escape the bed.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, he had to lean against the bed to stay standing. He had no clue how long he had been here. His legs felt like jelly. Seconds passed before he had the strength to stand on his own. Though he was weak, determination slowly filled the gap. He found the stairs and quickly started up. He was slowly feeling more and more claustrophobic as time ticked away. The walls felt like they were closing in on him trying to swallow him up , trying to stop him from his escape. If only he could be outside, free of this prison.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he threw open the door and rushed out.

All was black. It seemed to be the only color this place was capable of being. Behind him, he heard the door shut with a click.

Suddenly it was too quiet.

One moment he had been standing in the church watching his father get bludgeoned to death the next he was being sucked back into his mind. He knew this because of the familiarity he felt and because of the lack of the stretched feeling that had been growing the longer he was away.

No longer were the images flashing around him. He was still himself. The demon wasn't listening or couldn't, he wasn't sure which it was.

"I know you're there," a voice called out. "Speak."

Dean didn't know what he was supposed to say. He was still thinking of all that he had seen from his journey into Sam's mind and what a mind it was.

"Speak!" the voice called out again, more urgent this time.

It seemed that the demon couldn't hear his thoughts anymore. Interesting.

"You shouldn't go running into someone elses head ya know," the demon voiced. "It's not natural."

Dean had to agree with that, but he didn't reply.

"You never know what you might catch," the demon said, trying to get a response from Dean.

That statement made him think about how he had gotten to Sam. If you could catch something from someone, didn't that meant you could give it too? What if Sam had sent whatever had separated him from the demon? What if it was some sort of demon disease? Was it to help or hurt him?

Dean stayed stubbornly quiet keeping his thoughts to himself, knowing it was driving the demon crazy.

"Fine, stay silent," the demon said finally. "I'll fix this, and when I do you'll know. Your brother-"

The demon was quiet all of a sudden. Then,

"Your brother is awake," it continued. "And on the move."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked out loud unable to restrain himself.

The demon smiled.

"The bond is still there," the demon replied. "It hasn't gone anywhere."

Dean frowned. Whatever had stopped the demon from reading his thoughts hadn't stopped it from being able to access Sam through the link. And while he wasn't quite sure what he thought of Sam right now good or bad, he knew that the demon was bad and he didn't want it anywhere near Sam. He would have to do something about this.

"It's playtime Dean," the demon informed him. "And perfect timing too. Your father is here looking for us, but even more, he's looking for Sam. Well at least his blood if you know what I mean. He's got his gun locked and loaded."

Dean would have thrown up his hands if he could. Perfect timing indeed.

It was a highly caffeinated John Winchester that entered the town limits of Jerome.

As soon as he had escaped Las Vegas he had found a place to clean himself up. No matter where he went, it wasn't normal for someone to be walking around in singed clothing, smelling of smoke, and being dirtier than a homeless man. So, to avoid the kind of attention that would bring, he went to the first motel on the side of the road that he came across.

It was there that he received another phone call from Dean, one he didn't even want to think about for the rest of his life. Dean had to be OK, he had to be.

Dean had pleaded for help, and help had just arrived.