Title: That Which Was Lost... [21/22]
Author: alakewood
Warning: Spoilers for AHBL.
Rating: PG-13
WordCount: 1500+
Summary: Dean faces off with the Yellow-Eyed Demon.
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.
A/N: Wow, you guys! I just might finish this thing before the end of the year. I've know for a while that we were getting towards the end, and it looks like the next chapter (including an epilogue) will probably be it. I've only been writing this story for, oh, three and a half years. :) But the end is nigh, folks - I hope you've enjoyed the ride!
oxoxo
The crypt was within Dean's sight when what sounded and felt like an explosion sent him to his knees as a shock wave rippled out, lightning spider-webbing across the sky in bright blue-pink veins along with a low rumble of thunder that was carried on sudden wind gusts that stunk of sulfur. In the flash of lightning, he could see something undulating on the wind – swirling black masses that moved independently of each other and with disregard to the direction of the strong breeze. Dean recognized the shadows streaming from the crypt almost immediately for what they were. Demons. Hundreds of demons were being set loose.
He climbed to his feet on the trembling ground and rushed to the opposite side of the crypt where the heavy iron doors were flung wide open. Between tall stone grave markers, he saw Sam on his knees in front of a man with jaundiced eyes, a long, precise gash across the man's forearm so deep it was flowing freely and dripping from his elbow – the blood that wasn't making it into Sam's mouth, anyway.
It made Dean's stomach turn to see it, but he didn't know how he was supposed to stop it - anyof it – until he caught the dull gleam of the Colt protruding from the crypt door in another blaze of lightning and wrenched it free. He leveled it at the man. At the Yellow-Eyed Demon.
Above the screech of the things flooding out the doors, Dean could hear Bobby and Ellen yelling after him from across the cemetery. Their voices and arrival drew the demon's attention, yellow eyes sliding over to focus on Dean and the gun in his hands. Behind him, he could hear the other two hunters struggling to close the gate. Dean held the gun steady and slowly moved forward.
Yellow-Eyes grinned, a malicious curve of his mouth, and released Sam, let him fall into the trampled prairie grass. "Hey there, Deano," he greeted. "Quite the family reunion, isn't it?"
"You leave Sam alone," Dean spat out, moving closer.
"But I think we're still missing someone, aren't we?" the demon continued, unfazed, as if Dean hadn't said a word. "Where's little sis?" His grin widened as he tilted his head towards a low, crumbling family mausoleum off to Dean's right. Jo was pushed around the side of the moss-covered marble, hands bound behind her back by a smirking Meg.
"Long time, no see," Meg remarked, shoving Jo forward a couple more paces.
"That's just about everybody," Yellow-Eyes went on. "Except dear old dad. But he's a little...tied up at the moment."
Something about the way he said it and the curl of his mouth sent a slithering chill down Dean's spine, but he couldn't pay that much mind, not with Sam unconscious on the ground and Jo held captive by Meg. "Let her go – she's done nothing to you!"
"Give me the gun and I won't kill you all where you stand."
Dean shook his head. "No."
"You're going to sacrifice all these lives just so you can tryto kill me first?" the demon asked, gesturing expansively. "You're just like your daddy."
Dean lowered the barrel of the gun just a shade and glanced around the small area between the crypt and the mausoleum – Sam and Jo in front of him, guarded by demons, and Bobby and Ellen behind still attempting to close the crypt's doors. In his periphery, he saw the Yellow-Eyed Demon give a short nod to Meg, then the demon in the girl-suit wrapped a hand around Jo's throat and started to squeeze.
And that was when everything started to go even further south. Ellen went running to help Jo, Bobby trailing after her, and a quick flick of Yellow-Eyes' wrist sent the Colt flying from Dean's hands. An invisible pressure forced him to his knees at the same time he saw Bobby and Ellen go down.
"Now, if you don't mind, Sam and I have somewhere to be," the Yellow-Eyed Demon said, stooping over to grab hold of one of Sam's shoulders while keeping his gaze locked on Dean. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat, we're running behind schedule."
The demon's smile faltered and, at the same time, Dean felt the force holding him immobile weaken. A shimmering form coalesced around Yellow-Eyes, flickering and stuttering like bad reception before filling in to reveal a transparent man. But not just any man.
"Dad?" Dean settled back on his heels, staring at the apparition of his father in bewilderment.
"Finish this, Dean!" John shouted, voice strained with the effort of holding back the demon. "Finish it now!"
Dean scrambled across the overgrown plots for the Colt, found a stable stance on his knees to take the shot. The sound of the blast was quickly overlapped by a frantic scream of denial from Meg as she shoved Jo to the ground and started across the clearing to where Yellow-Eyes was lit up orange from the inside like the fires of Hell were burning through his veins as he collapsed near Sam.
Above them, John's image quavered and faded, the smile on his face like an apology, gratitude, and a blessing.
Dean lowered his aim to catch Meg in his sight and fired again, watching her tumble mid-stride into the grass beside her leader. The clearing went still for a moment, the howling of the demons and whatever else were being released from the open gate painfully loud. As much as Dean wanted to rush to Sam's side, the crypt needed to be closed. He was back on his feet and shoving at one of the doors in a breath, Ellen and Bobby soon shouldering at the other door. They somehow managed to get the doors closed, the barrel of the Colt slipping into place in the center of the pentagram on the doors, a turn and a click sealing the shut again.
The cemetery fell silent, no one quite daring to move just yet, as the supernatural storm above dissipated with the departure of the last of the demons. When Dean was certain it was all over, he rushed to Sam's side, turning his brother over carefully to see how hurt he was. But aside from the blood trickling from his mouth – which Dean was fairly certain had been the demon's and not his own – Sam seemed unharmed. Dean's fingers fumbled in search of a pulse as he pulled Sam into his lap, cradling Sam's head against his shoulder as he pressed his fingertips to his bother's cold skin.
Bobby and Ellen, Jo under her arm, approached him slowly, twin distraught expressions crumbling the Harvelle women's faces. "Is he...?" Ellen began, unable to even ask, hand not gripping Jo flying to her mouth as Jo buried her face in her mother's shoulder.
Dean's questing fingers caught the flutter of Sam's weak pulse in his wrist, felt the faint, humid breaths from Sam's open mouth against his neck. "He's alive," he said, holding Sam a little closer. "Barely, but alive." He shook his head. "That son of a bitch was bleedinginto him."
Ellen and Bobby exchanged a look over Jo's head at that telegraphed they probably knew what it meant. Instead of explaining, Bobby dropped to a knee beside Sam, reaching a hand beneath his shoulder and carefully lifting him from Dean's lap. "C'mon. Let's get him outta here."
With Bobby under one of Sam's shoulders and Dean under the other, the five of them carefully made their way out of the cemetery and across the buckled iron train tracks to where Bobby's truck was parked. "I'll come back for my car when he's conscious," Dean said, pulling down the tailgate and climbing up into the bed. "I just want to get him somewhere safe right now."
Bobby helped hoist Sam up into the back before slamming the gate shut and getting in up front, Jo squished between him and Ellen on the bench seat, and tore away from the cemetery as fast as the truck would allow.
Dean kept Sam held so close, arms folded across his brother's chest, that the way the material of his jacket bunched at his elbows made his hands go numb. He ignored the prickling tingle in favor of focusing on the warmth between them and the feel of Sam's chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths.
After nearly half an hour on the road, the sky ahead lightened from the glow of a few short rows and columns of street lamps, and Sam began to shift in Dean's lap. Dean carefully watched his face, waiting for his brother's eyes to open. When they finally did, colored dark with confusion before softening with recognition, Dean felt his whole body sag with relief. "Hey," he said, smiling down at Sam.
"Hey," Sam whispered back. "Where are we?"
"Back of Bobby's truck, heading for a motel."
Sam nodded and curled in closer to Dean's chest. "Wasn't going to do it," he mumbled, eyes drifting shut.
"Do what?"
But Sam was out again, wheezing quietly in reply.