A/N: Who doesn't love a little angst? Hehe. Warning: Content may be a little (or a lot) sensitive to some readers.
Sam blinked wearily, his body heavy in weakness. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with hands he didn't really feel, forcing his vision into focus. It was dark, hot, and an odd smell filled the air, slightly sulfurous. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he pushed himself to his feet. He knew this place. His soul knew this place. He rushed forward, he knew the number of steps it would take, his hands finding a solid wall.
Panicked, he reeled back a few steps, running his hands through his hair, spinning on his heels in a slow circle. He'd just been with his brother, lying in Ziva's lap, poison running rampant through his body. He couldn't be here now. Logically, he couldn't. He'd been rescued from Hell. Castiel had raised him up. Death had retrieved his soul. He was complete again.
"Why am I here?" he whispered to himself, pacing to the next wall, finding it just as solid as the other. He stumbled along, his hand running the length of the solid structure . There was no give, no crack,...it was solid, a room with little light, a prison. "Oh, God."
"I thought you were never gonna wake up, Sammy," a voice said from the center of the room. "I was getting a little bored."
Sam spun toward the voice. It was the voice that haunted him every second of every day. Lucifer. His tormentor. "Why am I back here?" he demanded, finding his voice.
"Back?" came the return, a mocking laugh echoing through the air. "You never left, Sam."
Lucifer's face swam into view in front of him, a body that had once belonged to a man named Nick. Instinctively, Sam stepped back, hatred coursing through him.
"Oh, don't tell me...you were dreaming of being with big brother again. You were...saving the world, yet again. Am I right, Sammy?" Lucifer paced slowly around Sam, a sly smile touching his lips. "It's always the same dream. I know. You talk while you're lying there, dreaming or whatever it is you do."
"This is the dream," Sam countered firmly. "I'm not here anymore." He thought back to Dean, pointing out the wound on his hand. The pain, applying pressure to the cut, had shocked him back to reality. He needed something to shock him out of this nightmare.
"I've always loved your optimism." Lucifer stopped in front of his prey, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "Every time you wake up, thinking you've been somewhere else...that...fire it reignites in you to fight me..." he laughed, "it makes stripping you down again so much more entertaining."
Sam swallowed nervously over the lump in his throat. The pit. "Where's Adam? Michael?"
The other man chuckled, making a dismissive gesture, "oh, you know. Around. They're always around."
The hunter side of Sam took over then, the logic that accompanied his profession rearing its head. "Show them to me." He steeled his jaw, meeting Lucifer's gaze squarely. "I want to see my brother."
"You really do like torture, don't you?" He stepped closer to Sam, cupping his cheek thoughtfully in his hand. "You wouldn't recognize your brother, Sammy. You never do."
Sam held his ground, his fists clenched by his side. Proof. He needed proof. He needed to see Adam.
"Oh, very well." Lucifer waved his hand to his side, bringing a slight light into the room, illuminating the far corner of the room.
A slight figure sat, huddled against the wall, head rested on his knees. Sam's eyes widened slightly before he gathered his wits, striding quickly toward his younger brother, dropping to his knees in front of him.
"Adam." He reached forward, intending to raise the young man's head. Adam hadn't responded to him, and it worried him. He paused, his eyes picking up what he hadn't seen at first. The burns that covered the back of Adam's hands, deep and angry red, rimmed in dark brown and black. His clothes were ripped and burned in places, fitting against his lanky body haphazardly. Patches of hair were missing, as if they'd been ripped by the handful from his head. "Adam, look at me. C'mon." Carefully, he reached forward, searching for a place that wasn't maimed to place his hands.
The instant that Adam's face swam into view, Sam stumbled backward, landing hard on his backside. The face was so mutilated that it was hardly recognizable. Had there been anyone else in the cage with them, Sam would have sworn it was any of them aside from his brother.
"Satisfied, Sam?" Lucifer asked quietly. "Is that what you wanted to see?" He paced forward, squatting beside Sam. "My brother and I,...well, we just get so damned bored." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Don't look so shocked, Sammy. You bear the worst of it. You always have. Protecting your little brother...that's your weakness, Sam. Family. Always sacrificing for your family."
Anger fired to life in Sam's belly, red tinting his vision. With a speed he didn't realize he possessed, he pushed off the ground, head kept low as he tackled Lucifer in a full linebacker tackle. He had advantage, his fists pummeling into Lucifer's face. Again and again he struck, feeling bone crush under his fists, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
With every swing, he cried out, screaming out his anger. Each swing was heavy and would have felled a normal man. Tears accompanied the rage, tears for his brother. They'd been unable to save Adam from the pit. Sam had been willing to sacrifice his life, but Adam...Adam had been tricked into the game, promised something that was never intended to be given to him, all in a ploy to get Dean to play his part. Adam was innocent. He always had been innocent.
"You son of a bitch!" He drew back for a final swing. "You don't touch him!" He fell back, breathing heavily, looking down at the blood on his hands. Trembles wracked through his body, and he clenched and unclenched his fists, willing them to stop.
Lucifer slowly rose to his feet, making a show of readjusting his jaw, his face a bloody mess. He stood still, looking down at Sam, a slow smile stretching across his face. "Very,...very nice, Sammy." He raised his hand, passing it in front of his face. When he lowered it back to his side, his face was whole again, no sign of the beating he'd just taken.
Anger was replaced by hopelessness as Sam watched. He had no power, no ability to defend himself or his brother. Not in this place.
"That fire...that rage...it's so...delicious." He paced, his steps deliberate, across the room. "It's been a long time since I've seen that from you. How long has it been?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Almost two years now."
"Stay away from him," Sam said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing as Lucifer stopped in front of Adam.
"You know what the beauty, if you can call it that, of this...cage...is?" he asked, looking down at the youngest son of John Winchester. "I mean, I can't get out. That would involve daddy dearest...taking a shine to me again, and we both know...that isn't going to happen." He chuckled. "The best part about being stuck in this cage with you...and Adam...and Michael...is that we can't die. Every single day, all day, I get to take out my frustrations...on you...on your brother...two of the three people who plotted to end my beautiful work, who plotted to lock me in here...alone." He smiled peacefully. "You want me to stop? To leave your precious brother alone?" He snapped his fingers and Adam's body instantly jerked to life, a blood-curdling scream tearing from his throat as flames engulfed his body.
"Stop!" Sam sprang to his feet, intending to rush Lucifer, and found himself flung backward, held fast to the wall by a great weight. "Don't...touch...him!" Sam grunted, struggling against the weight, the breath knocked from his body.
Lucifer motioned, Adam's flailing body lifting from the ground, floating beside him as he moved toward Sam. "Or what, Sammy?" He snapped his fingers again and Adam fell to the floor, still screaming in pain, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air. "I told you...this is reality, and this reality is what I make it." He lifted Adam again, sending the body directly in front of Sam.
He couldn't look away, staring into Adam's pain-filled eyes that were glazed over and unresponsive. The smell of cooked flesh was overpowering. He knew he could do nothing. Lucifer was too powerful. He'd been stupid to attack him. Tears brimmed in his eyes again, tears of pain and sorrow, spilling over onto his cheeks. "I'm so...so sorry, Adam."
"You should be," Adam rasped, blinking slowly, his eyes focusing on his brother. "You...and Dean...you should be sorry." Disgust colored what was left of his mutilated face. "Why...why didn't you stop him?"
"I tried..." Sam whispered brokenly. "God, Adam,...I tried."
With a twitch of his finger, Lucifer sent Adam sliding back across the floor of the cage, disappearing into the shadows again. "How touching. How damaged are you, Sammy?" He patted Sam's cheek. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you pay for your sins." He waved his hand, and agonizing, crippling pain shot through Sam's body.
He couldn't help but scream...
"The wall around Asgard has a few points we can use," Dean pointed out, trying to mark the places he'd used to hide from view of the city. "The room that bitch threw me in is here," he marked the building, "but I think the ritual will take place under that tree,...Yggdrasil."
"Lore supports that," Bobby agreed.
"I wanna say that Kali's mine," Dean growled, "but if any of you have a clear shot,...take it. If she falls, everything should just fall apart."
"Easy enough," one of the hunters acknowledged. He was short, stocky, with dirty blond hair. He had been a boxer in college, and sported a crooked nose and cauliflower ear as proof.
"Until then?" another asked.
Dean sighed, rolling his head about his shoulders to pop his neck, relieving some of the tension in his back. "Rest. Don't leave the house. Be ready to move at dawn."
Wordlessly, the hunters pushed back from their chairs, moving about the living room and stretching. They'd been sitting for several hours, memorizing the lay of Asgard, going over different scenarios, and asking questions about what had happened to bring everything about. Most of the hunters had never seen the amount of action that they were about to face, and most likely, they'd never see the like again. Only a twisted destiny brought about by a yellow-eyed demon had set them on the path that had put Sam, Dean, John, and Bobby at the crucible.
Gibbs, Tony, and Bobby stayed seated with Dean at the table, an silent moment of understanding passing between them. This could be the last time they spent together. There was no guarantee that they'd come back from this.
"Good to see you up and about," Dean offered, smiling slightly toward Tony.
"Glad Cas' healing me didn't rein down unholy fire on Gibbs' house," the agent quipped with a DiNozzo-famous smile. "God, it's so good to be able to just...move again." His smile faded as he caught Dean's gaze locked on the couch. "How's Sam?"
The elder Winchester sat forward, the worry that he'd been hiding marching plainly across his face. "Not good. Every minute we sit here, he gets closer to dyin'. Really can't afford to wait til mornin', but we don't have a choice. Rushin' in would just get us killed quicker, and...well, I have you guys to think about." He hung his head, a sad chuckle dropping from his lips, "hell, Sammy'd kill me if I let you guys die."
"Guessin' she made Sam sick to force Dean to move," Bobby offered. "She'll get it...just not how she wants it."
Dean nodded.
"It'd probably do to get some food...maybe coffee...down. Won't do no good to have a bunch of weak-kneed Nancies runnin' around Asgard tryin' to save the world." The eldest hunter stood, not waiting for anyone to contradict him before pushing off toward the kitchen, intent on making himself busy.
Gibbs excused himself to check on Abby, leaving Tony behind. The agent leaned forward, propping against the table. "How are you holdin' up?"
"Kali's leavin' me alone for the moment, so...I'm doin' better than my brother." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small flask. He took a swig before offering it to Tony. "Ziva,...she seems pretty awesome."
Tony turned to look at his partner, watching her patiently tend to Sam, wiping the sweat from his brow with a damp cloth, trying to keep him comfortable. It was a side of her he'd never seen before. The look of tenderness on her face was alien, and he felt a stab of jealousy. How long had he wanted her to look at him like that? "She is."
"It's been a long time since Sam's had any relationship. A demon killed the last girl he loved. He was gonna get married, settle down, have the kids and the white picket fence." Regret filled him. "But I brought him back to this. If I'd just left him alone...he'd have been there to protect Jessica. That's been..." he counted, "...huh...about ten years now."
A touch of regret also touched Tony, and he kicked himself. "Can you leave all this? Really?"
Dean laughed dryly. "Tried...and tried again." Bitterness flavored his words. "Only way out...is to die." He twisted the returned flask in his hands. "Except for us, that is. For some reason...every time we kick it...we end up right back here."
There was a long silence, and when Tony spoke, his voice was quiet, almost emotionless. "Will it be the same for my team?"
The hunter twisted open his flask again, this time draining what was left. "...I hope not, Tony," he sighed. "I hope..." he trailed off, movement from the couch catching his attention.
Sam was twitching a bit, his lips moving. Dean threw himself from his chair, ignoring the clatter it made as it fell backward, rushing toward his brother.
"Sammy?" he leaned in close, cupping his brother's face in his hands, trying to read his lips. "'Why...am...I...here?' Where, Sam?" He ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew where Sam's mind had taken him. It was the only logical place.
"Where's...Adam? Michael?" Sam asked, his voice weak, his eyes still closed firmly. "I wanna see my brother."
"No, no, no," he whispered, his mouth going dry. He landed light slaps against his brother's cheeks. "Wake up, Sammy. We're not going there. Not now." He drew back Sam's eyelids, checking for reaction. There was nothing. "I know you're in there, Gigantor. C'mon."
"Dean?" Ziva asked. "What is this?"
He ignored her, continuing to try and rouse his unconscious brother. "Wake up, Sam."
Sam leaped from the sofa with a speed none of them could comprehend, his eyes wide open and ablaze with rage. He rushed forward, catching the blond hunter in a tackle that knocked him off his feet. Sam drew back, connecting a hard punch to the man's face. The only thing that saved him was his boxer's reflexes, sending him into a defensive position, his forearms raised to protect his face. Dean was there seconds later, his arms locking around Sam's biceps, struggling to pull his much larger brother from the man.
"You son of a bitch!" Sam raged. "You don't touch him!"
Dean struggled to hold his enraged sibling, finding his grip slipping. "Bobby!" he cried. "Bobby!"
Within seconds, every hunter in the house was around Sam, helping Dean pull him back from his victim. It took all of them to free the hunter trapped underneath Sam's much larger frame. The man's face was bleeding and he looked dazed, his forearms already sporting large, deep bruises and gashes.
The hunters that held their still struggling comrade found themselves tossed aside like tissue as Sam's body lifted of it's own accord, flying through the air to crash into the far wall. The resounding crack of buckling wood filled the room. Sam hung, suspended with his feet off the floor, struggling with an invisible force.
"We gotta get him tied down!" Bobby called out. "Cas!"
It took the angel, Dean, Bobby, and two other hunters to pull Sam from the wall. Between the four of them, they got him situated, carrying him down the hallway toward the bedroom Abby occupied. Gibbs rushed ahead, carrying her from the room. There would have been no way to get Sam upstairs in his condition. They could hardly carry him as it was.
The body went limp as they stepped through the bedroom door and Dean glanced over worriedly, noting the tears that streamed down his brother's face. "He's detoxing."
They deposited him on the bed, moving quickly to restrain him to the heavy wooden frame of the bed. Bobby showed them how to make catch loops out of their belts and directed each of them to a corner, making sure Sam was secured before sagging wearily into the chair in the corner.
"Cas, take care of Kevin, will ya?" Dean managed, referring to the hunter Sam had attacked. He cursed under his breath, attempting to ignore the agents who stood in the doorway. No one needed to see this.
Ziva, however, stepped purposefully into the room, her face once again a mask of control. As they had dragged Sam into the bedroom, she had retrieved a basin of cool water from the kitchen, and she sat it carefully on the bedside table, a stack of clean cloths beside it. Dean eyed them, trying to decide whether or not he should send everyone away.
"I don't wanna seem rude, but...it's probably not safe for you to be in here with him," Dean finally said, his voice gruff with emotion he barely held in check.
Ziva nodded, but only reached for a fresh cloth, dipping it in the water and carefully squeezing the excess moisture out. She perched on the edge of the bed, reaching over and wiping the sweat from his face. "He is burning up." She dipped the cloth again. "After that...display, I agree, I am not entirely comfortable." She glanced over at Dean. "I will not, however, leave him. We are not certain how much time he has left, and I will not leave him to suffer alone."
It was a long while before Dean could force himself to speak again. When he finally did, he had to force himself not to reach over and embrace his stoic woman who sat stubbornly beside his brother. "Thanks," he finally murmured. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "Don't...uh...don't let him loose. I'd hate to see you hurt."
The screaming started again, and Sam strained against his bonds, his body flailing wildly, his back arching off the bed. The old bed frame creaked and groaned at the misuse, but otherwise held. The veins bulged in Sam's neck, his face reddening as the screaming intensified. "Dean!" As he always did, Sam cried out for his brother, begging for help, seeking relief from his torture. "No! No! Dean! Please!"
Dean moved beside his brother, his hands resting on his shoulders, attempting to halt his flailing. "Sam!" He spoke firmly. "It's not real. Whatever you're seeing...it's not real. Wake up, Sammy."
"Don't touch him! Leave Adam alone!" Sam jerked his left arm, almost snapping the belt that served as a restraint. Tears streamed down his face. His body fell limp and he trembled uncontrollably.
"C'mon, Sammy, listen to me." Dean took a fortifying breath, trying to shake away the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He'd never gotten over his own guilt about what had happened to their half brother, Adam Milligan. "Sam, whatever that bastard is tellin' you,...it's not true. You're not in the pit anymore. You're here, with me, Bobby,...Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva. You drank demon blood again. Now, I dunno why you're crashin' so fast, and honestly, you're scarin' the hell out of everybody here. You almost beat another hunter to death." He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "Now, dammit, I need you to pull yourself together. Do you understand me? We've got a job to finish."
Sam didn't reply, but his breathing seemed to ease a bit. After long moments, his trembling abated and he laid still.
Ziva looked up at him, obvious worry mixed with concern weighing on her shoulders. "What is he seeing, Dean?"
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. He was defeated, truth to tell. Hope was fleeing as quickly as it was building. "Look, I dunno what he's told you, Ziva, but things for us...they've never been all that great." He absently scratched at the stubble that covered his cheeks. "Me and Sammy...we were born for one purpose...our 'destiny.' I was born to be Michael's vessel,...and Sammy, well, he was supposed to be Lucifer's...and we, our bodies, anyway,...were to fight the epic battle that would bring about the end of the world." He looked back at his brother, sorrow aging his face drastically. "I was in Hell for six months...Time there, goes by so damned slow. Every day, I was tortured,...my soul...stripped down, flayed...things I can't even describe...and every day, Alastair, my torturer...would make me the same offer. I could get up off that table,...if I'd torture another soul...break them down just like Alastair broke me." He swallowed around the lump in his throat, fighting back his own memories of Hell. "It was different for Sammy.
"The only way we could end the Apocalypse, it turned out, was for Sam to say 'yes' to Lucifer. He thought he could fight 'im." He shook his head. "It was lights out. Sam had no control over Lucifer. I mean, it was full out nuts. Found out the big show down was supposed to happen at this graveyard...showed up...Figured the end of the world was comin' anyway,...wasn't gonna let Sammy die alone. See, it wasn't long before that...Adam was brought back from the dead, and that's a story for another time. This angel, Zachariah, was pulling the strings to start this whole thing. Ya see, he figured that I'd give if he put one of my brother's on the choppin' block, and Sam was obviously off the table. So, he told Adam he'd see his mom again...if he'd be Michael's vessel. We went to rescue him...killed Zachariah,...but we were too late...Adam was caught in that room...and Zachariah had already called Michael. Since my body wasn't there...he took Adam.
"Anyway, Michael and Lucifer met at this graveyard...Lucifer had the key to his own cage in Sam's pocket...the rings of the four horsemen. Cas pulled this move...hit Michael with a Molotov of holy oil and fire. That gave me a few minutes alone with Sam...it was the only chance I had to reach him. Lucifer beat my face in,...but all I could see was my little brother...and hear my dad tellin' me to take care of him. It didn't matter...I wanted to die...because I knew how everything was gonna end." He wiped at a tear he didn't realize had escape the corner of his eye. He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Anyway,...somethin' happened. There was this moment where this...look...crossed Lucifer's face, and suddenly, it was Sam lookin' down at me. He opened the pit and started to fall in...and Adam caught him. Sam pulled him in with him...the gate closed...both my brothers, trapped in the pit with those two douchebag angels.
"Bobby...Bobby was dead...Cas was dead. I'd lost everybody, and Sam had stopped Lucifer short of killin' me. Cas was brought back, he brought back Bobby...but he couldn't bring back Sam...or Adam. Me and Sammy, we had a deal, see? That was supposed to be the end. I wasn't supposed to find a way to save him,...go makin' another deal with the devil to pull him outta the cage. I was supposed to go my 'apple pie' life...and I did. I tried to give it a go." He leveled a guilt-filled look at Ziva, his jaw working as a slight tremble passed through his body. "I...suffered in Hell, Ziva, but it was nothin'...nothin' compared to what Sammy and Adam faced, locked in a small cage with two angels who had nothin' to do but pick on them.
"I don't know what Sam went through down there, but I know he woulda tried to save Adam as much pain as he could. Cas raised Sam's body, but the soul was still locked away...and when we finally got Death to retrieve it for us,...well, let's just say he was very honest about the...condition of Sam's soul. He put up a wall...a wall that gets weaker by the day. He's already had a few cracks...damn near killed him...and I know that this...the demon blood and poison...it's gonna wake up some memories that he's not ready to face yet." He hung his head. "It'll kill 'im before Kali has the chance."
Ziva continued to care for Sam, making sure the sweat was gone from his brow, packing cool cloths around his neck. "How do you do it?" The question was soft spoken, but direct.
"Do what?"
"How do you put such...experiences...behind you? How do you continue to do this job?"
He half-shrugged, shaking his head. "You don't. I see it behind me all the time." He looked back at his brother. "He doesn't deserve any of this."
"Neither of you do," Ziva answered quietly, dipping the cloth she held in the cool water. "I know that saying "I am sorry' would do nothing to ease your mind, so I will not say it. I will say 'thank you' instead." She turned slightly, placing a comforting hand over Dean's where it rested on the bed. "All of the sacrifices you and your family have made have ensured that I, for one, am alive today. None of us realized how close to the end we truly were. You have ensured that I, for one, am still alive. Thank you for everything you have done,...for everything that you will do in order to keep us safe."
He offered her a small smile, feeling a bit of affection for the quiet, reserved Israeli. "Ya know, you're alright, Ziva." She was alright; she was something unexpected. It was nice. "I'm glad...if this is really the end for me and Sammy...I'm glad that he has you."
She squeezed his hand slightly before pulling away. "I am glad too, Dean. I can only hope he wakes up long enough for me to tell him." Her gaze drifted back to the face of the seemingly-sleeping hunter, a look of longing presenting itself before she had schooled it carefully away.
Dean stood, leaning forward to squeeze her shoulder, "I don't think you have to worry about that," he stood back, turning on his heel, "I'm pretty sure he already knows." He steeled himself to face those outside, tucking his raw emotions back into the recesses of his mind, and left the room.
Ziva sighed slightly, taking her own moment to collect her thoughts. She was alone in the room with Sam, the man who had only a half hour before had been picked up off the floor by an invisible force and slammed against the wall so hard that the wall had cracked and buckled. It didn't seem to have affected Sam's body at all. She'd seen many things in her life that defied explanation, but none so much as when it had came to involve the Winchesters. Dean's story had chilled her to the bone. She couldn't understand how anybody could go through so much and still be functioning, let alone standing. Yet here, in this house, there were two men who had gone through Hell and came out swinging, swinging and saving the world. It gave her an odd sense of hope. These men were a dying breed, men willing to sacrifice their everything for the good of all mankind.
She pulled the cloths she had tucked around Sam's neck away, dropping them on the bedside table. She laid down beside him, resting her head against his shoulder, her hand coming to rest over his heart, feeling his pulse beneath her palm. Her eyes drifted closed and she breathed in his scent, allowing herself a brief moment to relax.
Sam panted, pushing himself to his knees, trying to ignore the burned flesh of his arms and hands, knowing what the rest of his body must look like. Lucifer had engulfed him in flame, just as he had Adam, laughing as Sam had begged for Dean to save him. Here, the shock of the pain was only temporary. When he passed out from the pain, he'd be completely healed when he woke, only for the torture to start over again.
Shakily, he found his feet, facing his tormentor with steel in his eyes. As long as he stayed alert, responsive, Lucifer would leave Adam alone. He'd rather take the full brunt of whatever the devil could dish out than let his brother suffer anymore.
"I'm surprised, Sammy. Usually, I'd be mopping you up off the floor right about now," Lucifer called, his footsteps echoing around the cage as he moved closer to Sam.
"Yeah, well, I've got something worth fighting for," he spat through gritted teeth.
"Oh, you mean little Adam over there?" he glanced over his shoulder, reigniting the body with a thought. Adam's screams filled the air.
"Don't touch him! Leave Adam alone!" Sam demanded, grabbing handfuls of Lucifer's shirt, tears of sorrow and anger trickling down his cheeks.
"But it's so much fun." He laughed, pushing Sam back.
"C'mon, Sammy, listen to me."
Sam paused as he heard Dean's voice cut through his rage. His eyes never left Lucifer, but he willed himself to hear something else, anything else, from his brother.
"Sam, whatever that bastard is tellin' you,...it's not true. You're not in the pit anymore. You're here, with me, Bobby,...Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva. You drank demon blood again. Now, I dunno why you're crashin' so fast, and honestly, you're scarin' the hell out of everybody here. You almost beat another hunter to death." Dean's voice paused. "Now, dammit, I need you to pull yourself together. Do you understand me? We've got a job to finish."
Sam blinked, a rush of memories bombarding him. Valkyries, the shelter, Asgard, Kali, rescuing Dean...it all assaulted him, the pit slowly disappearing around him as he relived the past weeks in the blink of an eye.
"I'm not in Hell," he said to himself. "I'm not there anymore."
Ziva pushed herself up on her elbow.
"Sam?" She cupped his cheek in her hand, looking down at him, willing him to speak again.
He blinked sluggishly, a slight groan escaping his lips as sensations returned to his body. His joints ached and he found he couldn't move to relieve the pressure. His mouth was dry and his head pounded. "Ziva?" he croaked.
"I am here, Sam," she whispered. "I will get you some water." She pushed off the bed, moving quickly to the kitchen. She motioned for Dean, going to the cabinets for a glass, running cool water from the tap. She turned, smiling in relief. "He is awake."
A matching look of relief crossed his face.
"Come." She led him back to the bedroom, moving back to her position on the bed, carefully propping Sam up in her lap. "Drink," she instructed, holding the glass to Sam's lips, controlling the flow of the water, allowing him to take small sips.
He drank greedily, reveling in the feel of the cool water soothing his parched mouth.
"Sammy." Dean perched on the edge of the bed.
"How long...was I out?" he asked, allowing himself to relax against Ziva, depending on her strength.
"A while," came the confession. "How are you feelin'?"
"Different." He swallowed, gratefully accepting another drink.
"Different, how? Different good?"
Sam took stock of himself. Something had changed, he just wasn't sure what it was. "I...I guess it's good. I...don't know." Talking seemed to be taking a lot out of him. "I was there, Dean...can't shake it...he had me...had me believing..."
"Hey." Dean shook his head. "It's okay, Sam. You got through it...You're back here now."
Sam closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "When...this whole...thing is over..." he shuddered, "we gotta save him."
The older Winchester nodded, "I know, Sammy." He stood. "I'll send Cas in...to check you over. You, uh...you should rest."
Ziva released Sam's right wrist from his restraint, adjusting him more comfortably in her lap. He sighed thankfully, feeling the tension ease in his back. It took only a moment for Castiel to join them, taking the place Dean had vacated on the bed.
"Dean tells me that you are feeling...different," he stated.
Sam nodded.
Castiel searched Sam's eyes, looking past them, much as he did when he was healing, using the eyes as the window to the soul. "Most interesting," he murmured. "It seems...the poison has been stopped." His brows furrowed. "The damage is immense,...but your life has been spared."
"I...don't understand."
"Neither do I." Castiel looked away. "I...must go. There is someone I must speak with." Someone who would have answers, he hoped. He disappeared, leaving a heavy silence hanging over the room.
Wordlessly, Ziva released his left wrist as well, letting the belt drop to the floor. A moment of panic struck him. What had she heard? What had she seen? Was he safe enough to be released from his bonds?
She laid him back against the pillows, moving to undo the rest of the restraints. He watched, noting the care she took not to cause him any discomfort. He could see the bowl and cloths on the table, and knew she must have been caring for him since he'd fallen ill. She offered him a smile, seating herself by his side.
"Ziva..."
"Sam..."
He swallowed nervously, watching her respond to him was like looking into a mirror. His mouth went dry again.
She took the silence as an invitation, taking his hand in her own. "I promised myself that I would not let the next opportunity pass," she explained quietly, "I was afraid that you would not wake." He marveled at the moisture that brightened her eyes. Tears. "What I seen in these past few hours...I am scared, Sam." The admission took a lot out of her. "But...I am not scared enough to let it keep me from telling you...that...I love you." She had wrestled with the words, but once they had passed her lips, it felt natural. It was an affirmation. "I love you," she repeated, a tear escaping down her cheek. "I was so afraid I would not get to tell you."
He closed his hand over hers, pulling her down beside him, snaking his arm around her to hold her as tight as he could. It felt right, holding her against him, her warmth comforting after what he'd endured. He'd fought pursuing anything beyond what they currently shared because of the danger they faced. He didn't want her to get hurt. "I'm scared too," he admitted. He was scared of her meeting the same fate as Jessica.
She wiped a stray tear from her cheek, moving to sit up. "I...I just wanted you to know."
He held her back, struggling to sit up, the effort winding him. He cursed his weakness, feeling his body sway. She attempted to help him lie back, but he shook his head, stubbornly remaining upright. "I love you too, Ziva," he breathed, wavering. "...just...wanted you...to know." He fell back, letting the mattress cradle him as blackness crept back in, threatening to take him.
Life shocked through him as her lips touched his, a gentle caress, keeping him tethered to reality.
"You can sleep," she whispered, curling back against him, "we will talk when you wake."
A small smile touched his lips as he allowed himself to drift away, the darkness this time filled with images of Ziva rather than his time in the pit. It was a moment of happiness that he hadn't expected to ever have again.
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Castiel returned to the house. It was late and it appeared most everyone had bedded down for the night. Everyone, that was, except Dean. He took a seat beside the hunter on a seat that had been moved to the back deck.
"Where've you been?" Dean asked, nursing a glass of bourbon.
"Attempting to discover why Sam is no longer poisoned. It appears...that Kali's hold on your blood is limited. Sam's return to his memories of Hell saved his life, apparently...at least for the moment. Sam regained a bit of Lucifer's strength. It was as I feared. The damage, however, will take time to heal. The spell that Kali used is irreversible."
"What you're sayin',...is he's not gonna die, right?"
Castiel nodded slowly, "at least...not right now."
tbc...
A/N: Figured it was time for a little romance...and a bit of a longer chapter. Stay tuned! The final battle is just around the bend.