Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing this for me. You're an absolute star. Thank you also Gredelina1 for all your support.
Thank you for the responses for to my plea for pre-reader help with the last chapter. My very good friend Ncsupnatfan has joined up with me for my current WIP and she's working her ass off. Seriously. She's pre-read over 50k for me in the last week alone as I have been doing NaNoWriMo and she's been awesome about keeping up with me. The story we're working on now won't be posted for a while, but when it comes, you'll have to thank her too if you like it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dean woke with a groan of pain. It felt like his head was splitting in two. Each breath drawn seemed to make it throb harder. Trying to think around the pain was almost impossible. It was only the fact that there was something so important for him to do that allowed him to push it down and focus on what he needed to.
Sam. Bobby was possessing him.
How he could dare do it after everything Sam had been through Dean didn't know. It was final proof of the fact Dean had been trying to deny: Bobby was vengeful now. The man that had possessed his brother hadn't been the man that Dean had loved like a father and who had loved him in return. He was now just another spirit that needed to be taken out. Dean would do it, too. He would save his brother, but he had to find him first.
He struggled to his feet and swayed as he reached for the wall to steady himself. His vision was swimming. Bobby had done some damage when he'd knocked him out. He needed help.
"Cas?" he called. "I need you." He hoped he had been out long enough for Castiel to be able to return. It took a while after being banished for an angel to be able to come back.
When there was no sign of the angel's arrival, he made his way across the room, supporting himself on the walls and furniture to the front door. He had no expectation that the car would still be there, and he had no conviction that he would be able to drive given his current state, but he had to check. He wasn't surprised to see the spot where he'd parked the plastic Impala was empty. Bobby would have needed it to make his escape.
He turned back to the house, muttering Castiel's name again. He knew that, wherever he was, Castiel would be hearing him and being tortured by what he was hearing— Dean's unanswerable need—but he couldn't stop himself.
Knowing he needed to work ahead to find Sam, he took a breath and focused. When Castiel came back, they would need to know where Sam was to be able to get him back. He needed help. He staggered to the table and sat down. The laptop was still open from when Sam had been using it earlier, and it was a simple matter of booting it up and waiting for it to load. When it was ready, he pulled up the phone company's tracking site and then stopped. There was an easier way. He got to his feet and made his shaky way across the room to the stairs and then, gripping the balustrade tightly, he went up to the second floor and into his bedroom.
His phone was beside the bed, charging. He disconnected it and unlocked the screen then brought up the app connected to Sam's seizure band. They'd not taken it off of him, as Dean had been paranoid the seizures weren't completely over. Hopefully Bobby would disregard or forget it. If he took it off, Dean didn't know what they were going to do. He tapped across the menus until he found the tracking option. Closing his eyes and sending up a prayer, Dean tapped the locate button and checked the screen.
Bobby wasn't as smart as he thought he was. Dean could see his tracker moving across the other side of the state, powering along the I-90. Sighing with relief, Dean sat on the bed and pulled on his boots.
"Cas, I've found Sam," he said to the empty room. "He's on the I-90 heading east. As soon as you can, come back and get me. I'll be ready."
He tied his laces and then made his way downstairs again. He needed to arm himself.
The weapons duffels were on the sideboard where he'd left them. He grabbed two sawn-off shotguns and loaded them with salt rounds. They would hurt Sam, but they would be the least damaging option, especially when they had Castiel to heal.
Armed and ready, he was impatient to leave. He could hike into town and steal a car, but he'd never be able to catch up with Bobby. He had to wait for Castiel so he could hop a flight angel air. He downed a couple painkillers and then sat down at the table with the phone in front of him, watching Sam's icon inching its way east.
It was another endless hour before Castiel arrived, looking ruffled. "I am so sorry, Dean," he said without hesitation. "I wasn't here, and I didn't see what he was going to do. I thought you would be safe."
"It doesn't matter," Dean said. "We need to find him. He's in a place called Albion." He held up the phone for Castiel to see. "Arm yourself and let's go." He held up his own sawn-off and saw Castiel's shock.
"You're going to shoot him?"
"Salt rounds. It's the only thing I can think of. We have to get him out of Sam."
Castiel nodded and picked up the second gun. "Ready?"
Dean nodded and a moment later he felt the swoop in his stomach as he was moved under Castiel's influence. They came to a stop beside a gas station restroom. It was still dark, and very cold. Dean felt a shiver run through him, bringing on a jolt of pain that made him wince.
"You're still hurt," Castiel said in a whisper. "I forgot."
"It's fine," Dean said. "Let's just take care of Sam first."
Castiel wasn't listening though. He pressed a hand to Dean's temple and Dean felt the rush and sting of healing. His head cleared, and the pain disappeared.
"Thanks," he said. "Now, we better move before he leaves again."
He edged around the side of the lot and saw Bobby walking across the forecourt to the car. He was frowning, a familiar expression on Sam's face, and Dean rushed forward without caution. "Bobby!"
Bobby turned and his expression darkened. "Really, Dean. You're going to interfere with this."
"Get out of my brother!" Dean snarled.
"Not until Roman is dead," he said.
Dean raised the shotgun and aimed it at Bobby. "I am warning you, Bobby. Get out of him or I'll shoot."
"You won't hurt Sam like that. I know you too well. You're willing to risk the world for him. You won't do this."
Dean answered by pulling the trigger. Bobby was expelled from Sam with force and he disappeared. Sam dropped to his knees, panting as small wounds blossomed on his stomach. Dean rushed forward, shouting for Castiel. The angel was there in a heartbeat, his hand reaching for Sam and a burst of light passing between his hand and Sam.
"Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked intensely.
Sam nodded and got to his feet. Dean supported him and looked into his eyes. He saw fear and shock mingled in them, and he cursed the fact that Sam had been through yet another thing to give him nightmares.
Dean wanted to comfort Sam, but he knew there were other things he needed to do. The gas station was a small mom and pop place and he could see no signs of security cameras, but he knew they needed to leave.
"Get us out of here, Cas," he said, and a moment later he felt the swoop of movement.
They arrived back in the cabin, and Dean quickly checked Sam over. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine. I don't know how it happened. I was sleeping when he woke me up. Before I could ask anything, he was in me. I couldn't stop him."
Dean touched his arm. "It's okay. None of us guessed he'd do something like that. How did he break the tether though?"
"He didn't," Sam said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the hipflask. "He just took it with him."
"Sneaky son of a bitch," Dean said wonderingly, taking it from Sam.
He should have known if anyone was going to try something like that it would be Bobby. He'd underestimated his craftiness. And his cruelty. Sam should never have been put through that.
"We have to stop him," Castiel said. "He cannot go on like this."
"How?" Sam asked.
"We burn this," Dean said. "We have to send him on."
Sam looked stunned. "But it's Bobby."
"Yes, it's Bobby," Dean agreed. "And he's vengeful. I don't want to think about it either, but we have to face the facts. He was willing to kidnap you, Sam, and ride you to Roman in an attempt to kill him. He could have gotten you killed. We have to let him go."
Sam looked away. Dean thought he knew what he was thinking: why did he have to lose someone else he loved? He'd lost so much recently, including himself, and this was another blow.
"It's the only way, Sam," Castiel said gently.
"I know," Sam said quietly. "I'll get the wood."
Dean watched him leave the cabin by the front door, knowing Sam needed space to get through his feelings. He wasn't feeling good about what had to happened either, but he knew it was the right thing. Bobby wasn't the man they'd known anymore. He had to be stopped.
"What do we do about your car?" Castiel asked. "We made a spectacle of ourselves back there. The police are going to be called."
"I'll get hold of Garth," Dean said. "The car is registered to him. He can report it stolen."
Castiel nodded and Dean pulled out his phone. Having Garth take care of the car was the easy part. Letting go of Bobby was going to be much harder.
Dean stood beside Sam as he stoked the fire in the hearth and added more wood. It was already blazing, but Dean guessed Sam wanted to give himself a little more time before doing what they had to do.
Letting Bobby go wasn't going to be easy. Though he wasn't himself anymore, they didn't know where ghosts went when they died. John Winchester said burning bones was death for ghosts, but what did that mean? What kind of eternity were they giving Bobby?
He couldn't stay though. He was dangerous. He could have put Sam in danger with what he was planning. Sam really could have been killed. He was at the very least traumatized by having his body overpowered by something supernatural again. That was the last thing he needed on top of everything else he'd been through recently.
Sam straightened up and brushed off his hands. "I think it's probably ready," he said quietly.
Dean nodded. "You want me to do it?"
Sam considered a moment and then shook his head. "I'll do it."
Dean knew he was sparing him the guilt of doing it rather than avenging himself, so he stayed silent and just watched as Sam picked up the flask from the coffee table and weighed it in his hand. Sam held it over the flames and his fingers loosened. He was on the point of dropping it, Dean knew, and then a voice spoke behind them and he snatched it back from the fire.
"What the hell are you doing?"
They spun on their heels and Dean saw Bobby standing on the other side of the room. Dean had expected this arrival, and so had the poker ready at his side, but he didn't pick it up straight away. He thought perhaps Bobby might be able to take this with the acceptance he would once have shown.
"We're letting you go," Dean said.
"And if I don't want to be 'let go' of? What then?"
"This is the right thing," Sam said. "You know that."
"I know you're planning on killing me," he said. "How can that be the right thing?"
"You're not you anymore," Dean said. "You've changed. You're dangerous now."
Bobby rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to let anything happened to him. I just needed a body. The Sam I used to know would have understood that."
"I guess I'm not the Sam you knew anymore. Too much has happened for me to be him."
"That sounds like giving up to me," Bobby said. "Weak talk. You weren't raised to be weak. Not by me or your father."
Dean narrowed his eyes at him as Sam's eyes darkened with sadness. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Bobby, but this is the only way," he said. "You're not safe."
Bobby glowered. "And that's down to you to decide why?"
"Because we know you better than anyone," Sam said. "Goodbye, Bobby." He turned back to the fire and raised the flask.
Bobby's expression became thunderous and he rushed at Dean. His hands were around his throat in a second, and Dean was trying to breathe through the constriction.
Dean didn't see what happened, but he heard Sam say, "I'm sorry," before the hands around his throat disappeared as Bobby was consumed by fire. Bobby staggered back and Dean saw the betrayal on his face before he was dispersed in orange sparks.
Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and turned him. "Are you okay?" he asked.
Dean nodded and massaged his throat. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's over now."
Dean was sitting outside, staring out at the lake. The front door was open, and he could hear the click of keys as Sam worked on the laptop. Dean didn't know what he was looking for, but he had been at it for a couple days now, ever since Bobby had gone. Dean was curious, but Sam didn't volunteer the information, so he didn't ask. It was down to Sam when he decided to share. He deserved his privacy after everything he had been through lately.
He was feeling his own torment about Bobby's end. He should have had better. If only he hadn't dodged his reaper. He could have had Heaven and peace instead of whatever it was that he had now. Dean understood in a way, as he had once refused his reaper, too, but he wished Bobby had made a different choice. He could have died and been remembered as a good memory for them, not the vengeful thing he had become. That was no end for a hero like Bobby.
The sound of keys clicking inside cut off, and Dean heard the scrape of a chair against the wooden floorboards. He looked up as Sam came outside, his expression solemn.
"What's wrong?" he asked at once.
"We need to talk," Sam said. "Cas, are you around? Can you come here a minute?"
There was a flutter and Castiel appeared. "I'm here, Sam."
Sam took a seat opposite Dean and Castiel moved to sit between them. Dean had noticed that, since his sojourn as Emmanuel, Castiel was a little more human. He did things he hadn't before, like sit down so they were at the same eye level.
"What do you need?" Castiel asked.
Sam took a breath and then said, "I have been researching PTSD and treatment options."
Dean sat up straighter. "Yeah?"
Sam nodded. "I need to face Lucifer. Right now, he's like a nightmare to me. He's always there, coming whenever he likes to hurt me. I know he's not real, but that's how it feels. It's just my brain though, and I have to stop it."
"How?" Castiel asked.
"There something called exposure therapy," Sam said. "Have you heard of it?"
"I think Doctor Platt mentioned back in the hospital," Dean said. "It's about facing the trauma, right?"
"Yeah. That sometimes means going back to the source of the trauma, literally facing it. If you were in a car accident, they'd put you back in a car. If you were in a shooting, they'd take you back to the location. It's about bringing the memories to the fore and learning to deal with them, taking away the mystery of them and the power of the event. Obviously, I can't go back to the Cage, but I can face what's already there in my head."
"Are you talking about therapy?" Dean asked hopefully. This was good news. If they could go back to Doctor Platt, use his expertise to help Sam find a way to cope, it would be so much better; it might save him."
"In a way. Like I say, Lucifer is always there, at the back of my mind, but I want to bring him to the forefront. The Cage is like a nightmare to me. I remember it in flashes. It's like there's still some protection there. I am talking about taking down the protection and making it all clear to me."
"That sounds incredibly dangerous," Castiel said.
"It's probably is," Sam agreed. "But I think it's the only way. I remember what you were saying when I was… gone. You said you couldn't wipe my hell as it is a part of me. I think so, too. I think it needs to be a greater part of me. Do what you did with Jess. Bring all the memories back. Make me see them. Then I can go to that doctor again with it all clear. He can teach me how to manage it. That's what the case studies I read said worked."
Dean swallowed hard. It sounded dangerous. Sam had been comatose when Castiel broke the wall, and that was Sam seeing through the cracks. What would happen if his head was flooded with his experiences? Dean could lose him all over again. He couldn't bear that.
"It holds huge risks though, doesn't it?" Castiel asked.
"Yes. But I have found nothing else that has a chance of working." He looked at Dean. "What do you think?"
"I think I could lose you," Dean said. "You could be comatose again. You might never wake up this time. After everything we've been through, is it worth risking this?"
"I think so," he said. "I have to save myself. I can't live the rest of my life like this, not without losing my mind. I won't do it unless you agree though. It's both of us that will have to live with what comes after, and I won't do that to you unless you think it's worth it."
It wasn't about it being 'worth it'. It was about what they might have to live with after. Dean could be right back in that place he'd been in before, watching Sam lie unconscious, wishing for him to wake up.
He knew it wasn't is choice to make though. "If you think it's worth it, I'll help you," he said. "Whatever you need, whatever comes after, I'll be there for it. I'll do whatever I can for you. I'm with you, even though I hate it."
Sam smiled slightly. "Thank you, Dean. Can you do it, Cas?"
"Yes," Castiel said carefully. "I can bring the memories back for you, but I want you to understand how dangerous this is. You really could be lost."
"Maybe. I think it's worth trying though. I might be lost, or I might be free."
"We should try," Dean said. "I can handle whatever happens after. Alfie and Elsie have said we've always got a place with them. Best case, we go back to them and stay while you see Doctor Platt. Worst case, they help take care of you until you're ready to come back."
"They're good people," Sam said.
"They are," Dean agreed. "The best."
Sam took a deep breath. "Then we should do it now before I lose my nerve. Cas?"
Castiel stood up. "We should go inside. You'll be more comfortable on the couch if you…"
If he slipped into a coma again. Dean shuddered at the thought.
Sam pushed up from his chair and walked inside. Dean followed, his footsteps leaden. He sat down beside Sam on the couch and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Dean," Sam said. "For everything. I wouldn't have made it this far without you."
"Don't make it goodbye," Dean said. "It's not goodbye. We're going to get you through this."
"I know. Just… thank you."
"Are you ready?" Castiel asked.
"Yes," Sam said confidently. "Do what you need to do."
Castiel reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Sam's forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to brace himself. "Good luck," he said gently.
Sam nodded and there was a moment of silence before Castiel's hand blazed with light and Sam began to scream, a long tearing sound that tore at Dean's heart as Sam's Hell flooded his mind.
So… When I start out with a story, I usually know where and how it will end. I didn't have that with this story. I didn't know how to fix Sam. It took a lot of thought and discussion, but eventually this was what I decided to try. Come back for the epilogue to see if it worked.
Want to talk the latest epiosde? I'm lurking in my inbox.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx