Thank you so much Jenjoremy for beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dean was speaking his brother's name before he was even truly awake, aware on some deep level that something was wrong.
His eyes opened and he saw Sam bearing down on him with an angel blade between them, the point pressed over Dean's heart.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice pitched higher with shock.
Sam's eyes were tight with anger and his voice was a growl as he said, "Get out!"
Dean felt the color drain from his face as absolute horror and shock filled him. "Sure. Okay. I'll go. Just put the blade down."
Sam's eyes narrowed and he pressed down on the blade, breaking Dean's skin and making blood well around the small wound.
"I know this won't kill you," Sam said, "but it's going to hurt."
Dean's mind reeled. What was happening? Was Sam really doing this to him or had Jo somehow taken over?
"Stop, Sammy," he begged. "I'll go. You don't have to do this. No one is going to hurt you. Jo, if this is you, I'll fix it, okay. You don't need to do this. We'll let you go."
Dean was panicked. If he died, Sam would, too. Dean could take anything but that. Sam had to be safe. That was why he had done all this: to protect his little brother.
"Don't hurt yourself, Sammy," he begged.
Sam shouted with anger and leaned his weight on the blade. It sank into Dean's chest and his scream came out as a muffled breath. The pain was incredible. At the same moment he felt blood slicking his skin, blood spread across Sam's own chest and Dean realized what was happening. Sam wasn't only risking killing himself with this by being linked to Dean; he was injuring himself, too. What happened to Dean happened to Sam. Sam was bleeding out, too.
His breaths came in rasps and his heartbeat was uneven and weak. He summoned his strength and pushed Sam away, his grip on the blade pulling it from his chest at the same time. Pain seared but grew less as the last of the blade left him and he started to heal. Sam wasn't healing though. His face was stark white and his eyes faraway.
Dean supported Sam and laid him across his legs and then dragged them out from under him. He grabbed the blanket off his bed and pressed it to the bloodiest point of Sam's chest. While Dean's breaths were panicked pants, Sam's were shallow gasps. The damage he had done to himself was catastrophic and he wasn't healing, though the blood seemed to be slowing its pulses. Dean didn't want to think about it, but he knew it was because his heart had received the most damage.
Sam started to shake hard enough that his teeth rattled and Dean groaned, "Hang on, Sammy."
His voice rose to a shout as he called Castiel and then he gasped and recoiled somewhat as Sam's eyes opened and fixed on him.
"You're going to be okay," Dean said. "You're going to be fine. Cas!"
Then Sam's eyes flared with grace and Jo looked up at him. "Dean," she said weakly. "I can't…"
"Heal him!" Dean commanded.
"I'm trying," she said. "The sigil isn't completely gone. It's in his blood as well as on his heart. You're keeping him alive now." She moaned. "It was an angel blade, Dean."
"Castiel!" Dean bellowed and then his eyes snapped to the door as it began to rattle in its frame and then flew open.
Castiel rushed in, Jack following him, and then both stopped and took in the scene in front of them.
"What happened?" Jack asked, his voice a cracked moan.
"Get the sigil off!" Dean commanded, not thinking of the risk of what he was saying, just needing Sam to be healed. He didn't consider the fact she might leave. He was consumed with the blood that had soaked through the blanket onto his hands. "She can't heal him."
Jo turned her face to him and said, "He's slipping, Castiel. Help me."
Castiel ran forward and pressed his hand to Sam's chest and concentrated. Jo's back arched and she groaned and then, as her back relaxed on the bed, she brought up a shaking hand and held it over her chest. Light spilled from her hand and her face twisted with pain and then a serene kind of relief that lasted a moment before her features twisted in fury and Dean saw Sam's awareness coming back.
"You!" he snarled, bucking under Dean's hands and wriggling away.
"Calm down, Sam," Dean said desperately.
"I will kill you!" Sam said, not a threat but a promise.
He got away from Dean and scrambled to his feet, reaching for the blade where it had fallen on the floor.
"Stop him, Cas!" Dean shouted.
Castiel grabbed Sam's shoulder and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Sam collapsed and Castiel caught him, carrying him to the blood-soaked bed and laying him down.
Dean stared at him, never more confused in his life. That wasn't Sam. Sam would never hurt him like that. It made no sense. He had been strange, but not murderous.
"Are you okay, Dean?" Jack asked, rushing forward and tugging at Dean's shirt.
Dean realized he looked as bad as Sam, the blood soaking his shirt and covering his hands. He pulled back from Jack and lifted his shirt, revealing bloody but unharmed skin.
"What do we do about Jo?" Castiel asked.
Dean startled as he realized the danger of what Castiel had done for the first time. "Put the sigil back! Trap her!"
Castiel didn't hesitate to place his hand on Sam's chest again and pour the light into him.
"What's happening?" Jack asked. "Was that an angel?"
"Yes," Dean said heavily. "There's an angel called Jo in Sam. She's saving him. He'd be ruined without her."
Jack turned accusing eyes on Castiel. "You said it was just grace!"
"Not now, Jack," Castiel said. "Dean, what happened? Was he hurting you?"
Dean nodded weakly, his eyes on his brother's face, smoothed by unconsciousness but still pale. Dean thought that he must be pale, too. He felt exhausted by the strain their bond had taken when Sam had been so desperately hurt. He thought he might collapse, but he had more important things to do than rest.
Knowing he had to act to stop himself falling, he got up from the bed and grabbed a large bottle of caffeine pills from Sam's duffel and dry swallowed four, considered, and then took two more. He chased them with a bottle of the water they carried for Sam to sip on to keep himself hydrated and then stripped off his bloody shirts and threw them onto the floor.
"I woke up and he was standing over me with an angel blade," he said. "He was telling me to get out, saying it wasn't going to kill me but hurt, and then he stabbed me."
"He could have killed you," Jack said weakly.
"Yeah, he could, but he took the damage. I healed before it could really hurt me."
He had not considered this facet of their connection before, but now he wondered if he could die at all. If the damage that happened to him transferred to Sam, could they die? Sam took the damage and he tethered Sam to life. Was there anything that could kill them? He'd been stabbed in the heart and lived.
"Do you think he was trying to harm himself?" Castiel asked. "He could have been trying to…" He cleared his throat and forced out the words. "He could have been trying to kill himself through you."
Dean swayed and gripped the table to support himself.
He didn't want to think that, but the question was in his mind now, impossible to ignore. Had everything that had happened that day been Sam processing: the frank discussion about what Dean had done to him when Michael was in control, the way he'd seemed to be happy again, the fact he had told Dean he wanted normal. Was that his way of saying goodbye?
"No!" Jack gasped. "Sam would never do that. He would never hurt Dean, and he wouldn't hurt himself."
Dean felt Castiel's eyes on him and with an effort he forced himself to meet them. "Maybe. But what do we do if he was? We can't keep him out forever."
"We can't," Castiel agreed. "We need to know. We have to talk to him."
Dean turned to his brother again and then nodded. They had no choice. As little as he wanted to see Sam deranged like that again, murderous, he had to face it if he was going to help him.
He picked up the angel blade from where it had fallen and tucked it under the mattress, out of Sam's sight if he should possibly escape. Castiel and Jack would be at risk if he did, and Sam himself through Dean.
Dean took a deep breath and said, "Jack you hold him. Don't let him go for anything. I don't care if he breaks bones struggling." And that was a real possibility with Sam's strength and the fury he was filled with. "You have to hold him."
Jack nodded and positioned himself on the bed behind Sam and pressed his hands to Sam's shoulders. "I've got him."
"You ready, Cas?" Dean asked.
"Are you?" Castiel countered.
"No," Dean admitted. "Let's get it done."
Castiel pressed his fingers to Sam's temple and then scrambled back as Sam's eyes flew open and he started to struggle. He fixed a glare on Dean and shouted, "I will kill you!"
"Sam," Castiel said loudly. "Talk to us. Why did you stab Dean?"
"To save him," Sam growled, fighting hard against Jack's hold, bright spots of color on the cheeks of his pale face. "Get out!"
"Save him from what?" Castiel asked.
"Michael!" Sam roared. "You don't see, you can't, but I do. He has Dean and I am getting him back." He slammed his head back into the mattress and glared up at Jack. "Let me go! I have to stop this."
Jack shook his head, his eyes wide and scared.
"Michael isn't here, Sam," Castiel said. "It's just Dean."
"No! I see him. He can't hide from me anymore. Let me go and I'll end this."
"Put him out, Cas," Dean said weakly. "Stop him."
Castiel nodded and touched Sam's forehead again as Sam jerked his head from side to side and growled expletives.
"I'm not Michael," Dean said.
"We know," Castiel stated. "Sam is seeing something that's not there."
"Why though?" Jack asked. "Has something gone wrong in his head. Is he…?"
"He's not crazy!" Dean said harshly. "He's just…" He groaned. "He's infected. It's the wraith." He pressed his hand to his forehead. "Why didn't I see? He was doing so well, things felt right, and then he just switched. What he said about when he was hurt… It all makes sense now. He thought I was Michael."
He should have seen it sooner, much sooner. He'd not given it the thought he needed. If he'd seen it, he would have been able to save Sam from this. He had hurt himself, would have killed himself, because Dean had missed the signs.
"So you saw the wraith," Jack said. "I know about them. Mary told me. She said it was body fluid. Who has Sam, I don't know, kissed?"
"Not just body fluid," Dean said. "The wraith that infected me and Sam in the mental hospital was able to do it with touch. She was a nurse and got a little physical with our physicals. That did it."
"Who has he touched then?" Castiel asked.
Dean squeezed his eyes closed and struggled to think. It could be anyone. He had to have touched dozens of people since they got into town. There had been… "The coroner," he whispered, his eyes opening and blinking slowly. "It started after we saw the bodies. The doctor shook his hand but not mine. The police chief had ink all over his hands from his fancy pen; he didn't touch either of us. And that was when Sam got weird. It's the damn coroner!"
"Then we need to find him," Castiel said seriously.
"Then what?" Jack asked in a strained tone. "How do we make him fix Sam?"
Dean shook his head jerkily. "No, we don't need to. Last time it wore off as soon as the wraith was killed. We just need to kill him." He looked down at his unconscious brother. "Then he'll be okay."
"How do we do that?" Castiel asked. "Do you think he'll still be at the hospital?"
"No, he wasn't the sort to put in extra hours. He was an asshole. He's got to live somewhere close. We need to hack the city records. Only I don't know how to do that. Frank taught me how to hack surveillance. Sam does all the other stuff still."
"I'll call Maggie," Jack said.
"Use my phone," Dean said, picking it up from the bedside table and throwing it to him. "Her number's on there. We need a Doctor Norris Broughton in Fort Lloyd. Don't tell her why. I don't want Mom finding out about this and freaking out." He didn't want her finding out ever.
Jack tapped the screen and scrolled through menus for a moment before tapping it once more and bringing it to his ear.
Dean tuned out his words as he greeted Maggie and apologized for calling so late, watching his brother's steady breaths. He looked awful, so much blood staining him, and Dean wanted it gone, but he had no time to clean him up now. He needed to fix himself up if he was going to find the doctor.
He grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went into the bathroom to clean off the blood that coated him with a washcloth, throwing the bloody clothes into the tub. He'd get rid of them when this was done, and Sam's; he wanted no additional reminders of what had happened.
When he was clean, he went back into the bedroom and saw that someone had covered Sam with a clean blanket and tucked his hands under it. He looked better without the blood stains visible, but he was still too pale.
"She's going to text us the address," Jack said.
Dean nodded, "Cas, you stay with Sam. Keep him out. Jack, you're with me."
Jack nodded, his face somber, but Castiel looked troubled.
"I could use enough force to keep Sam out for hours so that I can come with you," he said.
"No, I'm not risking it. He's got Jo in there, boosting him up. If he gets free, he could hurt himself or take off. Me and Jack can handle it."
"And if it is one of Michael's creations?" Castiel asked.
"I'll be there," Jack said. Dean's phone beeped and he pulled up the message. "I've got it. He's on Douglas Avenue."
"It's close to the hospital," Dean said. "We passed it on the way. Let's go."
Dean grabbed the angel blade from under the mattress and tucked it in his jacket, cast Sam one more look and led Jack out of the door and to the Impala.
As they drove along the quiet streets towards the doctor's house, Jack coughed awkwardly and said, "What's going on, Dean?"
"We're going to kill a wraith."
"No, I mean with that angel. How did she get in Sam and what's she doing there?"
Dean sighed. "It's a long story, Jack."
"If you don't want to tell me, you just have to say," Jack said quietly.
"Fine, I don't want to tell you." He chanced a glance at Jack and saw his face had fallen, making him feel guilty as well as stressed and angry. "It's Jo. She's an angel we met before you were born. She's not exactly good, but she…"
He shook his head. He wasn't sure what she was anymore. She had healed Sam and not fled when Castiel removed the sigil, but had that been to save Sam or herself? She had been injured by the angel blade, too.
"She helps sometimes," he said. "When Sam was in the hospital after he was stabbed, there were complications and Sam was really ill. The brain damage was bad, like never waking up bad, and Jo tricked Sam into letting her in. She's hiding from Michael, too, and I guess she figured hiding in a strong fighter was a good idea. But she got shaky. She was trying to heal but the damage was too big. The fact she's in there is the only thing keeping Sam walking and talking. He'd be back in a coma without her. But she got scared and tried to take off with Sam. We stopped her and Castiel put a sigil on Sam's heart to trap her inside."
"Sam is really that ill?" Jack asked, sounding horrified.
"Yeah, probably more than you're even imagining. He's a wreck inside. But he didn't know Jo was in there. She wiped his memory after he said yes. He only found out a little while ago. Me and Cas knew before that and we didn't tell him."
"Why not?"
Dean's hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Because Sam would never want to be a vessel again. We were scared he'd kick her out and go back to being a vegetable. When he found out, it took some real persuading for him to let her stay, and we made a deal. She's only staying as long as he wants her there. As soon as he says, Cas has to remove the sigil so he can kick her out."
"What will happen then?"
"Then… Sam will basically be gone while still living. It's only the connection between him and me that would keep him alive."
Jack made a strange pained sound. "Oh."
"No one else knows, not even Mom, and you can't tell them. They'd treat Sam differently, and he doesn't deserve that. You can't treat him differently either. Jo is trapped down deep. When you're talking, Sam is the only one that's going to be answering. You have to remember that, Jack, or it's all going to go to hell."
"I will," Jack said seriously. "I can do that."
"Good," Dean said, taking a right and checking the house numbers. "Game face on. We're here."
The houses that lined the streets were spaced close, so if the doctor started shouting, he was probably going to be heard. They'd have to be fast. He pulled them to a stop outside the right address and cut the engine.
"We get in and out," he said. "The sooner this thing is dead, the sooner Sam's fixed."
Jack nodded and said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, "I'm ready."
They climbed out and walked up the few steps to the door. At Dean's instruction, Jack blasted it and it flew open. Dean ran in, pulling the angel blade from his jacket, and followed the sounds of a TV playing into a large living room where the doctor was sitting in a comfortable recliner with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He put it on the side table and stood with a welcoming smile.
"Agent, I wondered when I'd see you."
Dean glared at him. "I came as fast as I could. I had to mop up the mess you made of my brother."
He smiled. "Your brother, yes; Sam, isn't it? I heard a lot about him from Michael. He's very angry at him. I think he will be even more pleased with me for infecting him than he would be for any number of hunters I plan to kill."
"You're one of Michael's," Jack snarled, his hatred of the archangel evident.
"Yes," the doctor said. "And you're the Nephilim. I heard about you, too." He smiled. "I see you came armed. It's not going to kill me, of course, that is an angel blade, and I am full of archangel grace. Freshly squeezed you might say."
Dean wanted to kill now, but something tugged at his mind and he forced himself to stop and think before acting. "When were you changed?"
"Upgraded, you mean? Only a few weeks ago. Michael found me and saw the potential. I'm not to be too obvious. I need to lure hunters, not create a situation, but I think I can shelve that plan for now. When I have infected you, when you are at my mercy, Michael can come back and take his true vessel."
"That's never going to happen again," Jack growled.
The doctor shrugged. "You really think? Personally I would like to see how my power works against a nephilim. I think the damage you could wreak with my influence would be a thing of beauty."
"Enough," Dean snapped. "You're not getting a chance."
He lurched forward, the blade held ready to strike, but the doctor was fast. He had his hand on Dean's jaw, gripping it tightly, and Dean felt his mind clouding at once.
"Dean!" Jack cried.
The doctor laughed and threw Dean back. Jack caught him and steadied him, saying, "You're okay," but it wasn't Jack's voice Dean heard, and when he yanked himself away and looked, it wasn't' Jack's face he saw. It was Lucifer's.
"You!" he growled.
Lucifer laughed. "Me. Blood wins out, after all, Dean. How's Sam?"
"Kill him," a voice whispered to Dean. "End him before he finds Sam again. He'll destroy him!"
Dean nodded and he raised the blade, seeing Lucifer's smirk as he lined up the swing, but before he could act, Lucifer was shoving him away with a wave of the hand, sending him sprawling to the floor.
The doctor was laughing, and Dean was struggling to get to his feet, but Lucifer was holding a hand out towards him and a heavy weight was pinning him down.
"Let me go," Dean snarled.
"I can't," Lucifer said.
"Banish him," the voice, Dean's voice, whispered. "Bleed."
Dean tried to bring the blade to his palm, but Lucifer's hold on him was too strong. All he could do was watch as Lucifer held out his free hand to the doctor and blast him with golden light. The doctor's eyes widened and then he began to shake. Lucifer smiled as the light glowed brighter and the doctor exploded into a cloud of dust that floated on the air for a moment before sinking down into a neat pile on the floor.
"Are you okay, Dean?"
Dean blinked and Lucifer's face became Jack's again. He accepted the offered hand and Jack hauled him to his feet. "Damn," he said. "That thing was strong."
"What did you see?" Jack asked.
Dean was on the point of answering honestly and then he realized that would be cruel. Jack was not his father, but he feared that he could be. He didn't need to hear what Dean had seen in his place.
"Just a monster," he said. "Let's get out of here. I want to make sure Sammy's okay."
"He will be though, right?" Jack asked. "You're not seeing things anymore, are you?"
"No, but Sam's experience was different."
He's almost killed Dean. He'd seriously hurt himself. Dean wasn't sure which was going to be harder for Sam to handle.
Sam's eyes flew open and he jerked to a sitting position, a blanket falling away to reveal a blood drenched shirt. He was on the wrong bed, with Dean, Castiel and Jack standing in front of him and watching him warily.
He plucked at the bloody cloth on his chest and asked, "What happened?"
"What do you remember?" Dean asked.
"We went to the PD and then…"
"And then you went crazy," Jo said acidly.
The memories rushed at Sam and he lurched to his feet towards Dean, his hands coming to Dean's chest. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Dean said, catching his hand and pushing them down. "You took the worst of the damage. How do you feel?"
Horrified, Sam thought. He had stabbed his brother; he could have killed him.
"Disgusting," he said, ripping off his bloody shirts and throwing them away.
"You feel normal though?" Castiel asked.
"You mean am I still wanting to kill Dean?" Sam asked. "No, that's all gone. I don't see Michael anymore, and the voice isn't talking to me."
"You had a voice, too?" Dean asked,
Sam frowned. "You were infected?"
"Yeah. When Jack and I went there to take it out, he got a hold of me and made me see crazy crap though. Luckily Jack was on point. He turned the asshole to dust. He gave Jack a look of pride that made him duck his head with a wide smile.
Sam nodded. "Good."
He skirted them and grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went into the bathroom, clicking the doors closed behind him. There was a pile of bloody clothes already in the tub, Dean's, and Sam swallowed bile at the sight of them. That was Dean's blood, so much of it, because of Sam. If not for their connection transferring the damage, they would both have died there and then from something as simple as a wraith.
"I saved you, Sam," Jo said. "And they locked me in again. I was helping, I healed you, and they did this to me again!"
Sam ignored the voice. He didn't care about Jo's problems in that moment. He had enough of his own. He cleaned up and went back into the bedroom in time to see the door close behind Jack and Castiel, leaving Dean and Sam alone in the room.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
Dean shook his head briskly. "No. I don't want apologies."
"I could have killed you!"
"But you didn't. And it wasn't your fault. That was one of Michael's souped-up monsters that got you. I felt how strong that thing was when it had me. No one could have fought it."
"Michael's?"
"Yeah." Dean bit his lip. "We've got a bigger problem than what you did, Sam. That wraith was only turbo-charged a couple weeks ago. That means Michael has a new vessel."
Sam felt Jo flinch inside him, and he fought a groan of shock himself. This was worse than bad. Michael was powerful and able to act again. He could come for them at any moment.
"We've got to stop him," Sam said.
"We will," Dean said. "We're looking for a dreamwalker, and Billie has to answer us eventually.
"You really think she will?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed. "Honestly, I don't know, Sammy. But we're going to find a way. He will be stopped."
"He has to be," Jo whispered.
Sam flinched.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked. "Is she talking again?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. She's scared. And pissed that you trapped her again."
Dean nodded slowly and then stared into Sam's eyes as he said, "I'm sorry, Jo, and I'm damn grateful for you pitching in, but we couldn't risk it."
"Like I didn't prove myself to you already?"
Sam didn't pass the question on. He was drained and frustrated. He was sick of things getting into his head. First Jo and then the wraith. He wanted it done. He wanted her out. He would help them find a way to stop Michael and then it would be over. He would get Jo out and deal with the consequences.
If it came at the cost of his ability to really live… Well, at least he would be alone in his own head again.
So… A little drama to enjoy. What did you think?
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx