Chapter 11: Escape Door

Dean slipped backwards until he was seated in the heavy slick mud, his hands wrapped around his brother's broad chest. The guilt and the shame rolling through him felt like a tidal wave. A tiny part of him wondered if the monster was still creeping around somewhere, but as his gaze dropped and his brother's body cooled, he knew better. This unyielding onslaught of emotion had nothing to do with a creature; and everything to do with the man lying motionless in his arms. A single tear slipped past his defenses.

"Dean?"

The rough voice of his father was the last thing that he thought he'd hear, it sent shivers through him. Lifting agonized eyes, he squinted into the slowly brightening sky. Under any other circumstance he would've been suspicious to find his father staring down at him with a guarded expression. And yet sitting here with Sam's body growing colder by the minute he found that he didn't give a rat's ass who showed up.

When he failed to answer, John squatted down in front of him, reaching out to run a tender hand along Sam's bloody cheek. "One job Dean. He was your 'one job'." Lifting his glassy eyes, their father inhaled deeply. "How could you let this happen?"

He hadn't known what his father would say, but the soft way he said it sent Dean rolling down the road of self-hatred. His dad was right. He'd failed to keep Sammy safe and this was exactly what he deserved. Heavy green eyes dropped to the wet locks on top of his brother's head and he allowed his chin to fall forward, resting there as the tears feel in earnest.

"I thought I could trust you with him. That's why I made that bargain to save you, Dean. I believed that I could move on leave him in your care and he would be safe." John's voice never rose above conversational, but the tone shifted until the words were dripping with ice. "I should've known that wasn't true. You know what?"

Dean managed to pull his gaze up to meet his father's blue eyes. The anger that marred his expression almost caused Dean to look away. His dad's hand shot out, roughly grabbing Dean's chin and making him look at his childhood hero. "None of this would have happened if I'd just let you die after the accident. I could've found yellow eyes, killed him and Sam would have lived a long happy life. It was 'you'. You were the cause of all of this."

John Winchester evaporated into a cold dense fog that Dean hadn't even realized had been rolling in. Internally he couldn't argue with what his father had said. It was the same thing he'd been thinking for the better part of a decade. Profound pain erupted in a guttural moan of loss that would have conveyed the agony to anyone unfortunately enough to hear it, if anyone had been around. And yet if a man screams in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does that pain still exist?

Lifting shaky fingers, Dean carded them through his little brother's hair. "I'm so sorry Sammy."

XXXX

Sam watched his brother suffer knowing that he couldn't stop it. He'd screamed until he was blue in the face, but nothing seemed to penetrate the scene Dean was caught in. Sam had been caught off guard by the depth of misery he'd been forced to witness. He'd never asked Dean about Cold Oak and what those days without his little brother had cost him. This was like some cruel joke, making him keenly aware of exactly what it must have been like.

The bellow of rage and pain that had erupted from Dean would haunt him for the rest of his days. He could feel his own fear of loss building inside him to a boiling point. Sinking down, he wanted nothing more than to rest his hands on his brother's shoulders and pull him into a hug, but he couldn't. Swallowing the lump that was rapidly expanding in his throat, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry Dean." His whispered apology was drawn away on the wisps of moisture that surrounded them.

He wanted to take it back, to take it all back. The moment he'd agreed to crawl inside his brother's head and what it could cost him. Because Sam didn't care about the cost to himself but watching as Dean paid that emotional price was torture.

Dean threw his head back and screamed, "Not him! Take me you dick!"

The world spun and Sam found himself staring at Dean across a formal dining room. He was seated at the table surrounded by a family that he didn't recognize. And yet he wanted to be with them. Looking at the betrayal on his older brother's face wasn't doing anything to alleviate that desire.

"Come on, Sammy." He started toward the door before he realized that Sam wasn't following him. Turning back, Dean folded his arms and frowned. "You coming, or not?"

"Not." Sam responded quickly. "This is all I've ever wanted Dean. A normal life." Shrugging, he picked up a roll and pulled at it.

Dean's face shifted, "But this is our life, Sam." Pulling in a breath, he shook his head. "We can't have this. We could never have this."

"You mean 'you' can't have this." His blue-green eyes swiveled around him at the normality of the home. "But I can. I just can't have it with you, or our family." There was no remorse or regret in his words and they hit Dean exactly where they'd been directed, in the heart.

He didn't say anything, Dean simply turned away and started toward the front door. His brother never saw the glassy tears that pooled in his eyes or the hitched breath he took the moment he was outside of the house.

Sam couldn't stop himself from saying the most hurtful things possible to Dean. They poured out of him like a fountain of poison, designed to hurt the one person he'd gone to hell to save. Because it hadn't been the world that had made him say 'yes' to Lucifer, it had been knowing that Dean would suffer too. His brother would be the first casualty in any war involving him and Sam couldn't allow that. He couldn't be the reason his brother died; he couldn't live with that.

Struggling to his feet, he bolted after Dean. The steps of the old home creaked as he stumbled down them and landed on…dried grass in the fading afternoon sunlight.

XXXX

Mary rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside the bed containing both of her sons. She didn't know what to say, what to do. But she could feel the loss deep inside her, the way she'd felt John's; and it hurt.

"No!" Castiel cried out as the denial coursed through him. They could not have come this close and then lose Dean and Sam. He wouldn't accept that ending, he couldn't. Casting his eyes between the boys and their mother he made a decision. Reaching deep inside he weighed the cost of what he was about to that the price was worth it, he latched onto his grace and moved so he could reach both of the Winchesters. Lifting his gaze, he nodded at Rowena. "I have a plan. But I will need your help."

She nodded once. "Whatever you need." Without meaning to she allowed this reckless family of hunters to get past her defenses. Walls that she had built to keep herself from ever feeling the pain of rejection again had come tumbling down because of these two. So how could she offer anything other than her best magic to try and save them. Perhaps they'd decided they 'owed' her one? And there were worse things than having a Winchester owe you one.

XXXX

Dean stared at the empty field across from the motel. He knew that he should go back inside, but he couldn't listen to Sam and his father fighting anymore. They'd been going at it for the better part of two days and it had grated on every last one of Dean's nerves. He wrapped an arm around his midsection and leaned against the Impala as pain burned through him. The hunt had gone seriously wonky and he'd been tossed around by the ghost like a ragdoll. If that hadn't been bad enough, he'd also found Sam's acceptance letter to Stanford.

He hadn't been snooping, really, he hadn't. He'd just been looking for the pain meds that his brother had told him were stashed in his duffel bag. The dislocated shoulder and cracked ribs had been throbbing in time to the beating of his heart. Sam had seen him wince once too often and had told him about the meds. But stuffed away inside that bag was also a letter that left no doubt in Dean's mind that his little brother was leaving. He'd walked away without the medication and with a heavy heart.

His entire life the only thing that Dean had wanted was to have his family together. To be together. It didn't matter where they were or what they did for a living as long as they were in it as a family. But that single piece of paper had struck a death blow to that dream.

He wondered if any of it was worth it. It was clear that his brother didn't want to be with him or be part of that family unit. The kid had spent his entire life working toward a way out. Dean had always held out hope that he could change Sam's mind, but that hope was gone now. Blinking back tears that he would blame on the injuries if asked, he tried to convince himself that he could do this alone. Except that he knew he couldn't.

"Dean?" Sam's worried tone interrupted his solitude. "You okay?"

Turning, Dean's eyes caught on the bag in his brother's hands. "So that's it huh?" Biting back the things that he wanted to say, he turned back toward the setting sun. "You're just leaving?"

Trudging past him and climbing up onto the hood of the Impala, he settled next to his brother. "Dean…"

"Don't Sam. If you want to leave, then leave." It broke his spirit to utter those words, but Sam needed to know that he would do anything for him; including, letting him go. "I'll be okay." It wasn't true, but his brother couldn't know that.

Sam's breathing hitched, "I can't be in this with you Dean. I hate it. I hate living the way we do. I have to find something else, something better."

'Something without me.' Dean considered silently. Sam had a better chance at living a long and happy life if he just walked away. "Then go." He couldn't bring himself to look over at his brother as he gave his permission.

"I can wait until you're—"

"No. I'll heal."

Sam tried to smile before jumping off the front of the car. He turned to hug his brother, but seeing the hunched over posture, he knew that it would hurt Dean more than help him. So he chuffed his brother lightly on the shoulder and slung his duffel up onto his back.

Neither brother saw where the shot came from, but they both felt the impact simultaneously. Dean toppled forward onto the dusty ground, his body on fire with the agony of the fall. He gathered what little strength he had and shifted enough to see where Sam lay, only a few feet from him. He tried to reach out, but a booted foot stopped him, applying tremendous pressure and crushing the delicate bones.

Sam's eyes widened, but he didn't move as the pool of crimson blood spread from beneath his fallen body. A blonde man that Dean couldn't see squatted down in front of his brother and he only heard his brother mutter one word, 'yes'.

And then everything changed.

Dean was stretched over a rack, his body broken in a thousand different ways and his soul left in tatters. He had no idea how long he'd been battered by the demons, but it felt like an eternity. He'd lost the will to fight so long ago that he merely waited for the previous session to end and the next one to begin. While the methods changed, the torturer never did.

The bright white shoes came into view and he felt himself shiver involuntarily. Contrary to popular belief, Hell wasn't at all warm. Or perhaps it was knowing who was wearing those shoes. "All healed up I see."

Forcing strength into flaccid limbs, Dean managed to lift his head and look his 'brother' in the eyes. But Sam's expressions had never been so devoid of humanity, or love. "After all these years, you're still looking for him?" Lucifer laughed, picking up a replica of the demon-blade, he ran a loving finger along the sharp edges. "Sam made his choice that day, Dean. He could have simply died, but instead he chose to live…with me." His eyes twinkled as a smile spread across his face and Sam's dimples deepened. "Of course, he thought he was saving you too." Glancing around, he spread his long warms wide. "I supposed this may not be exactly what he'd been thinking, but hey, you're alive, right?"

Dean hadn't engaged him for more years than he cared to remember, and the silence had cost him deeply. Lucifer had kept him like a pet, torturing him using his brother's hands, and his brother's voice. Picking up a red-hot poker, Sam twirled it between his fingers before laying across Dean's abdomen. Blood flooded his mouth as he bit through his cheeks to keep from crying out. He'd learned through repetition that cries of agony simply brought more intense pain and suffering. So, he remained silent and simply endured. He only had to make it to the first rays of daylight and then he would be allowed to heal in order for the whole thing to start again the following evening.

"STOP!" A scream of indignation and rage echoed all around him. Dean couldn't turn to see who the newcomer was, he was strapped to the rack from his head to his toes. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Castiel. I thought you were dead." Lucifer taunted from his position near Dean's head. He yanked the poker away from Dean's charred flesh and shoved it through his shoulder instead. White-hot flashes of excruciating pain nearly blinded the elder Winchester as he struggled to remain conscious. "Oh well, we can fix that."

"I'm not talking to you. Sam, you have to force him out. This isn't real. You can still save your brother."

"You can't be serious?" Lucifer sneered. Turning, he took the demon blade and pulled it across Dean's left cheekbone, splitting it open. "I own these two. One is my ride—" He switched cheeks and completed a matching wound over the right side. "The other is my bitch."

Anger flared within the angel as he watched his fallen brother torture good men for no other reason than because he could. "They are not yours. And they still have a choice." His blue eyes darted toward a doorway. "Sam! You have a choice!"

Struggling to find balance between what he was seeing and what he thought was real, Dean called on every last ounce of strength he had and hedged his bets. "Sammy…?"

That was all it took for Sam Winchester to come screaming back to the surface. He reached for his brother, the chains fell away, and Dean slipped to the blood-soaked ground. But not before Sam managed to get to him. Catching his mangled brother's body, he carefully lifted him until he was supporting Dean's entire weight. He could feel Lucifer raging inside the cage he'd forced him into, but he didn't care. The only thing Sam could care about was the damage he'd inflicted on his brother. It was like he'd been asleep and then he'd suddenly surged back into awareness with the full knowledge of everything he'd done while Lucifer had been in control.

Raising tear-filled eyes, he asked. "How do I force him out?"

Castiel reached out, taking his chin in his hands. "None of it is real, Sam. Just walk through that door and this all ends." His blue eyes dropped to Dean's limp body, "Please, come with me?" He asked softly.

"What about Dean?"

"He comes too."

Nodding, Sam carefully climbed to his feet, cradling his brother's body against his broad chest. The blood from Dean's wounds stained his white suit and he knew that he'd never wear white again. Following the angel, he made his way toward the pulsing doorway. Cas passed through it first. Sam stopped and looked over his shoulder at the landscape that had ruined his brother, shoving the guilt down he stepped through the door.

TBC…

Author's Note: New chapter coming tomorrow, so don't worry about being hung out for too long. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter and had a fantastic holiday.

Reviews make the best gifts, just saying.