Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the awesome beta job and Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dean still knew there were questions he needed to ask the chief, but he couldn't think of a single one after Sam left. He made his own quick excuses and followed him out, leaving the bewildered chief sitting behind his desk and trying to clean the ink off his hands.
Sam was leaning against the Impala, his eyes distant as he stared across the parking lot, and he didn't seem to notice Dean until his hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He sucked in a breath and jolted.
"Sorry," Dean said, holding up his hands. "You okay?"
Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment as if seeing something more than just his brother standing in front of him, and then he nodded and said, "Yeah. Later."
"Later what?" Dean asked.
Sam was silent for a moment and then he rubbed a hand over his forehead and said, "Nothing. What's next?"
"Food, I think," Dean said, calculating how long it had been since Sam ate last and figuring it had been long enough for him to be feeling a little screwy. He should have thought of it sooner. "We'll go pick Cas and Jack up and then find somewhere."
"Yeah," Sam said vaguely. "Sure."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean couldn't help but compare the man he had been only a matter of minutes ago, sharing random knowledge and the relaxed way they'd been talking together, with the way he was now—strange and closed off.
"I'm fine," Sam said curtly. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm handling it."
"Handling what?" A horrible thought occurred to him. "Is it Jo? Is she giving you trouble?"
Sam tilted his head to the side. "Yeah. That's it. Jo."
"What's she doing?" Dean asked.
"She's just there."
Without another word, he pulled open the door and got into the car, slamming it closed behind him and staring at Dean expectantly through the windshield. Dean took the hint, got in, and started the engine.
He drove them back to the motel and climbed out, leaving Sam sitting in the car. He peered back through the window and said, "Shall we go out and find somewhere or shall I bring something in?"
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Pizza?" When Dean grimaced, he said, "I didn't think so. Let's find somewhere."
He got out and waited, leaning against the car as Dean went to Jack and Castiel's room and knocked. The door was opened by Jack who beamed at him and said, "Did you find the wraith?"
Dean smiled in spite of himself. "No, Jack. It usually takes a little more than a trip to the morgue and a chat with the police chief. We need to stop to eat though." He glanced back over his shoulder and then gave Jack a pointed look. "It's time."
Understanding dawned in Jack's eyes and he said, "Yes. It is."
Castiel came to stand behind Jack and said, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. We're just hungry."
He wasn't sure he wanted to tell either of them about the change in Sam from before to now, and there was no way he could think of to do it without Sam hearing. And he couldn't mention what Sam had said about Jo in front of Jack. He would speak to him when they were alone.
Jack reached inside to grab his jacket and then came out and greeted Sam whose eyes widened slightly and then he nodded and murmured a greeting.
"Where do you want to eat?" Castiel asked.
"That diner place down the street," Dean said.
He thought a diner would have something more appropriate for Sam's diet than the bar a little further down. Though they would have to find the Mongoose and Cobra after to see if they could learn anything else about their victims. Maybe he could persuade Sam to head back to the motel and crash while he and Castiel looked into it. Though perhaps it was better Sam stay close until Dean knew exactly what Jo was doing to him. She couldn't take off on them, trapped down as she was, but he had a feeling she would still know how to cause trouble for them.
She had already shown that.
After a meal that was eaten in an awkward atmosphere with Sam looking pointedly down at his plate long after his small portion of brisket and mashed potatoes was eaten, they followed the waitress' directions to the Mongoose and Cobra which was a few blocks away from their motel. The place was busy and Dean made straight for a table and then took his seat, waiting for the others to join him before saying, "We're doing this as FBI again, so me and Sammy will take the lead."
"If you're FBI, who are we going to be?" Jack asked. "I'm too young."
"Only two, right," Dean said with a forced smile.
Jack nodded seriously. "Yes."
"I don't think anyone will ask, but if they do, Cas is an agent and you're doing a work-study thing, Jack."
Jack smiled. "I like that."
A waitress wearing a mid-thigh skirt and black vest came to their table bearing a tray. "What can I get you guys?"
"Three beers, please, whatever you've got on tap," Dean said. "And… Sammy?"
Sam looked up quickly, his attention not all the way with them, and said, "Uh, whatever you want."
Dean frowned. Sam knew he couldn't have alcohol, and he didn't think it was a lack of care for his condition that was driving Sam now. Dean thought he was just not paying attention.
"A ginger ale, please," he said, and the waitress nodded and weaved her way to the bar, the tray held high.
Sam fixed his eyes on Dean for a moment then his eyes drifted to Castiel and Jack before he ducked his head again and looked down at his clasped hands.
Dean watched him for a moment and then said, "Cas, come with me a minute," and rose to his feet, leading him to the bar.
"What are we doing?" Castiel asked. "We just ordered drinks."
Dean fixed intense eyes on him and asked, "Can you see Jo?"
Castiel frowned. "In Sam?"
"I don't mean in the bar, Cas," Dean said impatiently.
Castiel looked back at Sam and then said, "No. She's down deep. If she was at the forefront, Jack would be able to see her."
"Then something is going on. Sam was doing good when we were out before, working the case and laughing, but when we were at the PD, he just switched. He told me it was something about Jo, but not what. Can she be doing things to him still?"
"I suppose so," Castiel said thoughtfully. "What we did has never been tested before. We couldn't drive her down all the way; it was more that we brought Sam to the front. I imagine she can make herself heard, though she cannot control his body."
Dean's mouth dropped open as that horrifying thought settled over him. If she was talking to Sam… Was it Lucifer all over again? Was she talking to him even now?
He looked back at their table and saw Jack chatting animatedly while Sam looked vague.
"What do we do?" he asked.
"I don't think there is anything we can do, Dean. She is the price of Sam's current condition. She is as trapped as we can make her." He sighed as Dean's hands fisted. "I hate this, too, but we're already living our best-case scenario. And we don't know for how long."
Dean knew what he was saying. Sam could decide he'd had enough at any moment and force them to keep their deal and have Castiel remove the sigil, freeing Jo and cursing him. Dean thought she would give them long enough to stop Michael, but after that, all bets were off.
He turned to the bartender that was passing and said, "Whiskey."
The man raised an eyebrow at Dean's curt tone, but when Dean set down a twenty-dollar bill and said, "You can keep the change," he quickly fetched the drink and snagged the bill. He started away and Castiel elbowed Dean. "We need information, Dean."
Dean nodded. "Yeah." He called after the bartender who conceded to stop and listen, his fingers drumming the bar. His eyes widened slightly as Dean showed him his badge and said, "We're investigating the Baker and Rowland deaths, and we have a few questions if you've got a minute."
The man considered and then sighed. "Sure. Okay. What do you want to know?"
"They were regulars here," Dean said and he nodded. "How soon before their deaths did you see them?"
"They were both in here the nights before they were found. They are… were friends."
"And was there anything about their behavior that seemed strange before their deaths?"
He frowned. "I thought they were murdered."
"They were, but we're trying to get an account of their last activities. Did you notice anything strange at all? Were there newcomers that they were seen with? Did they leave with anyone?"
"No one new, no, but they were a little different. Fletcher especially. He was always a talker, but the night he died he was here with me and he was acting a little off, talking about weird things."
"Weird how?" Dean asked.
"He was paranoid, saying he knew his wife was cheating with their au pair. But he didn't seem upset. He was more angry about it which wasn't like him. He was a really chilled guy. But… Hey, you don't think it was the wife that did it, do you?"
"No," Dean said soothingly. "She's been investigated. It was any newcomers that I was more interested in."
"What about the other victim?" Castiel asked. "Was he paranoid, too?"
"Honestly, I don't know. Graham wasn't a talker. He seemed off, too, not really relaxed the way he usually was here, but he didn't say anything weird to me. He just took his drinks into the back for his game and said goodnight on the way out, but kinda distracted; like he had something on his mind."
"Okay, thanks," Dean said. "That's really helpful."
He started away and the bartender called him back, "Hey, Agent!" Dean turned and frowned as the man slid his twenty-dollars back over the bar and said, "I don't think taking a tip that big from a Federal Agent is doing me any favors. You just enjoy your evening."
Dean thanked him and took back the bill then he and Castiel went back to their table where Jack was sitting alone. "Where did Sammy go?" he asked.
"Restroom," Jack said.
Dean nodded and made for the door a little along the long room that declared itself Restrooms. He went in and through to the men's room, calling Sam's name.
Sam was standing by the sink, his hands braced on the porcelain and his eyes fixed on his reflection with a look of intense concentration. Dean grabbed his arm and then jerked back as Sam's tensed muscles clenched and he spun around.
"Okay, what's going on with you?" Dean asked. "What's she doing?"
"Who?"
"Jo!" Dean said impatiently. "Is she talking?"
Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sometimes."
Dean closed his eye briefly and then fixed them on his brother. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I know this is all my fault."
Sam frowned. "You didn't do it to me. You just didn't tell me she was there."
"No, I mean for what happened before. If you hadn't been hurt, you wouldn't have needed an angel at all. That was down to me. I was the one holding the blade. I was the one that didn't stop it."
Sam stared into his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yes. It was you."
Dean was shocked that Sam was agreeing, but he was also pleased. If Sam was accepting what he had done, he would also maybe accept an apology for it. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I know it's too late for that, but I am. If I had been better, stronger, I could have protected you from that."
Sam smiled slightly. "You were strong."
Dean winced. "Yeah, I guess I was, but obviously not enough. It still happened."
"It did," Sam agreed.
"And I'm sorry," he said again.
"You are?"
"Yes!" Dean said emphatically. "I never would have done that to you if I could have stopped it."
A strange smile crept over Sam's face and he said, "Really?"
Dean reached to touch Sam and then pulled back his hand. They were having what was probably the first honest conversation together that they'd had in months. Dean had tried to be honest, but Sam hadn't been with him. Of course, he blamed Dean for what happened, his hand had held the blade, but he'd not seemed to accept that openly before now.
"I would never have hurt you if I'd had a choice," he said seriously.
Sam shrugged, that strange smile still on his face, and said, "Okay. Sure."
"Sammy," Dean started, but Sam was already walking away, out the door.
Dean followed him into the bar, shocked as Sam took his seat at the table and, still smiling, nodded as if agreeing with something. Dean wondered if the new honesty was down to Jo. Was she showing Sam the truth of what Dean had done?
Dean had hoped for a chance to apologize, for Sam to accept his guilt and forgive it, but that hadn't happened. All Sam had done was accept Dean's guilt and walk away from him, leaving Dean helpless to know what to do next.
He'd thought he would feel better if Sam accepted the truth and let him apologize, but he felt even worse now as there was no forgiveness, not even the usual lie Sam would have given him before. Dean deserved it, he knew, but he still hated it.
Maybe hiding Jo wasn't the thing that was going to break them. Maybe it was Michael after all.
They were walking back along the street towards their motel, and Sam was struggling not to wince each time the wings touched him.
They all had them, Michael, Castiel and Jack; they spread from their backs like black shadows and with each brush against him, Sam felt his control slipping. He couldn't stop Michael until Castiel and Jack were gone, as they weren't seeing the truth. They saw only Dean, he knew, and would want to protect him from what had to be done.
Sam was just waiting for the voice to tell him what needed to happen.
They stopped outside Sam and Dean's room, and Michael said, "Cas, you can get the coffee in the morning."
There was something forced in his tone. Michael wasn't good at the human act. He was pretending to be Dean with the things he was saying and doing, and it was enough to convince Jack and Castiel, but they weren't the ones that Michael confessed to. He had admitted what he'd done to Sam, and though he had apologized and done his best to frame it as if it was Dean talking, Sam knew the truth.
It had been almost funny to hear it, Michael's struggle, as if it wasn't the mighty archangel talking to him. The archangel was out of his depth with an act he'd never had a chance to master. All he had was Dean's mind and memories, and they had always been an enigma to Sam, even though he knew him better than anyone in the world. The archangel was worse than helpless. He was also on borrowed time. Sam would soon be told what to do, and then Michael would be cast out of Dean and become useless grace on the air again.
Michael unlocked their door and said, "Night, Cas, Jack," then went in.
Sam gave them a small nod and what he hoped was a reassuring smile—though they would not know the reason behind it—and then followed Michael into their room.
"You want the bathroom first?" Michael asked.
"Sure," Sam said, amused at the idea of Michael imitating human actions that he had never experienced.
He grabbed clothes to change into out of his suit and went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He used the toilet and went to the basin to wash his hands. He scrubbed them with soap and waited for the voice to speak. It had to be time soon. Jack and Castiel were gone.
"Soon," it whispered. "Let him pretend a little longer."
Sam nodded and squeezed Crest onto his toothbrush then scrubbed his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror as he did, seeing the excitement in his eyes and marveling at it. He had not been excited the last time he faced Michael; he had been determined and scared then. This time he knew how it was going to end, and that gave him a different kind of feeling.
He spat into the sink and rinsed the basin and then went back into the bedroom. Michael was sitting on the end of Dean's bed, his hands clasped in his lap.
"Can we talk, Sammy?" he asked.
Sam almost laughed at the tension in his tone. Michael was trying so hard to sound as Dean would, but he was failing. He sounded too stilted, too nervous.
"No. I'm tired."
Michael sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll let you sleep."
Sam turned away and smirked. He was not going to be sleeping that night.
Michael went into the bathroom and closed the door. Sam lay down on top of the bedspread.
He rolled over, facing away from Dean's bed, and closed his eyes, withdrawing into himself to ask, "Is it time?"
"Very soon. We need to catch him off-guard. Let him get into bed. Let him be lulled by you. Then you will know what to do."
Sam lay waiting, only tensing slightly when the bathroom door opened and Michael came in and shut off the light.
"Night, Sammy," he said quietly.
Sam didn't answer. He wanted Michael to think he was sleeping already.
There was the creak of bedsprings as Michael settled on the bed and then breaths that were still too fast for Michael to be relaxed.
"Are you ready?" the voice asked.
"Yes," Sam murmured back within his own mind. "Tell me how to save my brother."
"It's not going to be easy. You're going to suffer for it."
"That doesn't matter," Sam said. "It's Dean."
"You have to hurt Michael, and that's going to hurt you, too. You will need to be strong and see it through."
"I'll live," Sam said dismissively.
"You will. It won't kill Michael, but it will hurt him. The wound he got from Kaia's killer will feel like nothing compared to this."
Sam tensed. "But Dean will be okay?"
"Yes. You will take the damage for him. We're just driving Michael out. And you can't die."
"I know!"
It annoyed Sam that he was being doubted. Living or dying, he would do this for Dean. The fact he couldn't die was good but dying was not the thing that would stop him doing what he needed to do if he would.
"It's time, Sam. Do you know what to do now?"
Sam nodded and eased himself out of bed. The knowledge had not come in words but in a kind of awareness that he'd not felt since he overpowered Lucifer. The way to do it then and what to do after had been instinctive. This was the same, just a different monster this time.
He checked that Michael wasn't moving, the perfect pretense of sleep, and then crept out of bed and went to the duffel on the table. He extracted an angel blade and weighed it in his hand. It would do the job.
He slowly turned and crept toward Dean's bed where Michael lay. He was on his back, his eyes closed and his breaths coming steady. If Sam didn't know better, he would have believed he really was sleeping. Perhaps he was just lost inside himself, perhaps he was speaking to Dean the way Jo did Sam.
Sam leaned over and pressed the tip of the blade to Michael's chest, right over his heart. It was harder to do it than he'd thought as it was Dean's face he saw, but he forced himself to not freeze. He closed his eyes and prepared to shove it in, then stopped when Michael spoke in Dean's sleepy voice.
"Sammy?" His eyes opened and flared with grace as they moved between the blade poised over his heart and Sam looking down at him. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Get out!" Sam growled.
Michael's face paled and he said, "Sure. Okay. I'll go. Just put the blade down."
Sam pressed down slightly on the blade, feeling it break the skin on his own chest as a small patch of blood appeared of Dean's shirt. "I know this won't kill you," he said. "But it's going to hurt."
Michael's face twisted into the smile he'd worn as he'd stabbed Sam and he said, "I'm not going nowhere. I am going to hurt you, Sam. I will break you apart and I will enjoy every minute of it. I will never let Dean go."
Sam shouted with anger as he put all his weight on the blade, shoving it into Michael's chest. The pain seared in his own, and his heart raced and then faltered.
"No, Sam!" Jo screamed in his head, breaking free of the hold Sam had on her, keeping her down. "It's Dean!"
Sam knew better though. It was Michael he was stabbing, Michael's laughter echoing in his ears, and Michael's hands that were coming up to push him away and snatch the blade out of his hands. It was Michael's face that loomed over him as blood gushed from Sam's chest and soaked his shirt. It was Michael's pain he heard as consciousness slipped away.
It was Michael that he had not been able to hurt enough to drive him out of his brother.
It was Dean that he had failed.
So… That happened. Poor Sam's all kinds of screwed.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx