Dean grinned. This kind of an utterly irritating grin only a Winchester could put on when he knew – KNEW – that – however adamant a situation seemed to be – he was the one to overcome it. "Sam knows what you are, doesn't he?"
Not-Dean shrugged. "He may does. He may does not. Either way, it will not save him, Dean." It paused. "Nor will it save you."
"You seem pretty sure about that, Bitch." Dean felt the warmth of blood, where the shard had cut into the tender flesh of his palm. He shifted his weight onto his left leg, the pointing-finger of his wounded hand drawing something onto the ground. – Unnoticed by IT.
"Well. Because I am.", IT replied – pretty cocksure of itself. – Like those sons of bitches always were.
"Yeah, well we're gonna see about that.", Dean's grin widened. "You guys always talk too much, you know? Always with those big speeches. Never paying attention …" He chuckled. "Fun-thing is – I can always count on that." And with his last word, he pressed his flat palm into the sigil he had drawn with his blood onto the ground.
IT made a surprised sound and started to flicker – frozen in place.
Dean rose to his feet. "Eat this, bitch.", he gritted out, his eyes dangerously determined. Then he took off into a limping jog, aiming for the former corridor which was supposed to lead him into the basement.
The sigil wouldn't keep IT in place much longer, so he needed to hurry up, get to Sam and get him to believe him that he was the REAL DEAN and that he had come to bust him out of dream land.
Once he reached the wooden door, he shoved the deadbolt aside and slipped inside. He slammed the door shut behind him – and to his surprise there was another deadbolt to block the door.
Once he had slid this one into the latch, he bolted down the stairs and stopped when he reached the bottom.
Dean looked around, assessing his surroundings. It looked pretty much like Bobby's basement, but this too, was hollowed out and empty except for the heavy iron-door which led inside the panic-room.
"Sam!", Dean called out, a fair amount of concern latched onto his words.
A heavy thud against the door upstairs was heard. And another one. Growls and the noise of claws against wood echoed through the empty place.
"Sammy! Talk to me!", he yelled and paused as he approached the iron door. "You in there?"
If Dean wasn't completely wrong he thought he could hear movement on the other side. He laid his flat palm against the cold iron and the other one on the wheel which was supposed to lock and unlock the door from the outside.
Dean was wondering, if Sam had made up some sort of lock on the insides too, since it would've been ridiculous of him to not to.
Then again … The front-door of Bobby's dreamhouse hadn't been locked either, and though IT hadn't been able to enter.
"C'mon, Sam, it's me.", Dean called and knocked at the door.
"I know." Sam's voice echoed. "You can come in."
Dean frowned. Well, that seemed a tick too easy … And it made his intestines turn upside down. Nonetheless, Dean spun the wheel to the left until he heard it snap in, and shoved the heavy door open.
Without hesitation he slipped in and pushed the door shut, before he took in the room, and the person sitting in the middle of a devil's trap on the floor.
Sam sat there, curled up into himself, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, his chin resting in the crook between his left and right knee and he was looking at Dean through long bangs of hair.
"Hey.", Sam murmured. He sounded weirdly quiet. Too calm for Dean's liking respectively of what dared to come for him.
Dean shifted his weight – despite the need to hurry the fuck up – he pondered how to approach Sam. Thinking fuck this shit, Dean closed the distance between them in three long strides and sunk to his knees.
When he was opening his arms to tug him into a tight embrace, he was surprised at Sam's reaction, when the kid practically threw himself against his chest and found himself wrapped up in long arms.
It took him a second or two to process that, before he was capable of finishing his own move.
"You came.", Sam murmured against the crook of his neck. "I wasn't sure if you would."
"Of course, I came. – I promised you, don't you remember?" Dean nuzzled into the kid's hair, breathing him in.
"It's been so long … I think.", Sam answered. "Time feels different here …" Sam clung to him like an octopus. "And I wasn't sure … I wasn't sure if I got the symbol right and If you'd get it – or Bobby." Sam took a deep inhale. "After it came out to … play. – It managed to break the barrier while I wasn't here …"
Dean shushed him. "We can talk later.", he tugged on Sam's shoulders and made him pull back so he could look into the younger man's face. "First. We need to get out of here."
Sam took a deep inhale and leaned back. "How do we do that? – Did you find something?"
Dean eyed Sam for a long moment, something that mirrored in the kid's eyes felt … wrong. The fact, that all of this should work out that easy felt seven days from Sunday WRONG.
Not to mention Sam letting him in that easy without proof … Proof that he was the real one. The one and only.
Sam seemed to catch onto the hunter's suspicion, as Sam inched back slowly, hand wandering towards his back, the other one braced against the concrete beneath them. His pupils dilated, as something feral crept into the hazel of his irises.
"You really thought I'd fall for it a second time, Asshole?", Sam hissed through gritted teeth.
Dean changed from worried boyfriend into hunter-mode the very moment he had seen Sam's face morph from beaten-up-huge-puppy-dog-eyes into I'm-gonna-rip-your-throat-out-and-eat-your-heart-while-it's-still-beating.
The muscles in both men's bodies were tense. The only difference between them was, that Sam was ready to fight, to take IT down.
Dean was not. He went into his defensive stance as he shifted and got back onto his feet, showing both hands to Sam, his palms empty.
"Wow – Easy Tiger.", Dean said. "It's me, okay?"
From outside the panic-room, the splintering of wood was heard and muffled thumps. Growls. Claws against wood and dirt and iron.
The noises drew Sam's attention – but only for a second.
"Look.", Dean rose both his hands a bit higher. Blood was still oozing from his wounded palm. "You drew the Symbol of the mother of all Curses on the mirror in the bathroom. Me, Bobby and Ellen figured it out, okay? – It's the offspring of all Curses that ever existed. – And it's right outside that door, Sam.", Dean explained and motioned towards the only exit.
The hand behind Sam's back wrapped around something. Dean could tell. It was the way his muscles were flexing. The way he straightened up.
And he hadn't been wrong.
When Sam pulled the thing from behind his back and showed it to Dean, a cool shiver ran down the hunter's spine.
"Sammy. – Please. Listen to me.", Dean did not exactly beg, though he let his desperation show. "We figured it out. – Okay?"
Sam huffed out a breath. The makeshift blade in his hand looked a lot like a big shard from his burst bubble outside. "Like last time? Or the times before? – Aren't you getting tired of playing around? Because I'm tired of playing around So I let you in. I let you in, and I promise you something: You won't get me alive. When my last fortress falls, you'll fall with me."
"SAM! Dammit! – Listen." Dean's heart was about to tear his chest apart as it was hammering against the inside of his ribcage violently. "Just listen, okay?"
Something thumped against the heave iron-door from the outside. Claws on metal. Agonizing high pitched howls mingled with low growls.
His look snapped towards the exit and back at Dean.
"IT's out there. – I'm HERE. I'm me-me. I came to bust you out. – Like I promised. But to make this work, you NEED TO KNOW, that I'm me. And that the thing outside that door are remains of the curse. You need to believe me, when I tell you, that we can expel it. The point is, we need to do this together. Both elements involved in the curse, have to do it together and for that, you need to KNOW. And to trust me, Sam. So you gotta fuckin' trust me on this."
Sam held his stance, gripping the weapon in his hand tight, drawing blood where the sharp edges of the shard dug into his palm. Sam did not believe a single word Dean was saying. He obviously didn't even have doubts that he could be wrong in his belief that this was not his Dean, and that IT was toying with him again.
"Oh, I know what you are. – I know what you're tryin' to do. And I won't let you. – I won't." Determined to do whatever it would take, that's what Sam was. Without hesitation.
"Sam." Dean shifted and moved his hands slowly to his button-down-shirt. So slow, that Sam was aware of his every move. He unbuttoned it and tugged it open, showing the symbol to him which had been drawn onto it. "See? That's how we get out of here. That's how we expel it."
Sam chuckled in disbelieve and shook his head. "Yeah. Sure.", he muttered bitterly. He took a deep inhale and set his jaw.
The shard in his hand shone dangerously sharp as it caught a ray of light from above.
"You gotta believe me, Sammy." Dean made a step towards him.
Sam made a step back. "I can't." It sounded so sincere. "I can't believe you." With a hint of sadness.
"Okay, so you don't. – Just … Why don't you try? At least TRY and believe me and if it doesn't work you can do whatever you want to. Stab me, torture me – Whatever you want." Dean was now desperate. He knew how stubborn Sam was – all the damn time. He knew – despite the short amount of time they were together by now - in relativity to their life-spans - what made Sam tick.
For a moment, Sam seemed to weigh what Dean was saying. "There is no trying" And with that, Sam rose the blade to his right forearm.
"NO!", Dean yelled, but all he could do – standing there frozen and in shock – was watching.
Watch as Sam set the blade to the inside of his forearm and drew it along the blue veins clearly visible under pale skin.
The very next moment – blade clattering to the ground and shattering at the impact – Dean was there, cradling Sam's face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
"I know you can't make it undone, and I know that's not how you wanted to play this." Sam was so calm when he spoke, his look devasted, all tension drained away.
Blood dripping onto the concrete to his feet in an increasing flow.
"Poughkeepsie, Sam.", Dean reached for Sam's arm, pushing down on the deep cut. Wherever to stop the bleeding, or to show him that he was the real him, or whatever – he didn't know. "Poughkeepsie."
Sam's features changed in an instant.
"You remember Poughkeepsie?" Dean knew – if Sam would eventually – finally – believe him, it wouldn't matter. Nothing would matter. Sam wouldn't bleed to death in his mind, if he'd believe him now, and if he'd let him draw the Symbol onto his chest too, they'd make it out of here.
"We ran."; Sam murmured, confusion crawling into his features. "We ran and didn't look back."
"That's my boy. – No one knows about Poughkeepsie but the two of us, right? IT can't know about it, RIGHT?"
Realization made its way in Sam's eyes – Dean could tell, he could see how the kid's face changed once again.
Sam staggered and swayed. "It's you …" He sounded surprised. So surprised. And somehow relieved.
"I need to know: DO YOU BELIEVE ME, Sam?" Because that was the most important thing right now.
"Yes." He was searching the other man's face, looking for the absolute proof that this was Dean. HIS DEAN, and that he had truly come for him and that this was not yet another trap to lure him into wrong safety and comfort, so IT could get to him, twist him, so to tie him back onto the rack as soon as he'd given in.
The very next moment, Sam lunged for leverage, his fingers twisting into the soft fabric covering Dean's back, holding onto him so not to give into his weakening knees.
"You hold on, Sammy.", Dean demanded, as he sunk with him onto the cold floor into a heap of flesh and bones, his boots slipping in the buddle of blood beneath them.
Dean lowered him to the ground gently. Sam let him. They locked eyes.
Tears filled Sam's eyes as he blinked up at the man hoovering above him.
"I got this, baby boy.", Dean breathed and ripped the younger man's shirt open, buttons being torn off and bouncing from the hard surface of the floor, uncovering his upper body.
Dean dipped his fingers into the blood on the ground and mingled it with the one still seeping from his cut palm. He then began to draw the symbol on Sam's chest and stomach.
"I love you.", Sam whispered, his eyes never leaving Dean.
"I know. – I love you too." Answered in a reflex, not truly saying it because the situation demanded it, but to soothe the ache he heard in Sam's voice.
And then, everything happened in a matter of seconds.
The heavy thumps against the iron door stilled and a moment of absolute silence followed, causing Dean to stop from what he was doing for the shortest amount of times.
And then, the door burst open, ripped from its frame and landed with an echoing loud noise on the floor. Plain iron against hard concrete.
And there IT stood. Tall and looming, a sly grin on its lips, eyes black as the night, behind him dozens over dozens of red gleaming eyes with bodies of hellish creatures alike you imagine the hounds of hell. All sharp teeth and claws and dark-grey and black, howling, growling and ready to be finally unleashed.
"Not today.", Dean growled at the creature, as he moved to shield Sam from whatever was to come. And in the very moment, those hordes of once bound memories came dashing towards them as if an unseen shield was torn down. Dean lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Sam's torso and pressed his bare chest against Sam's.
The hounds – half hidden, half seen – surrounded by smoke and black mist covering them.
And then, there was this light. First tiny and only a glimpse of something, and as it grew, the fog and mist latched onto it, rose high, growing into a blinding white light, pulsating with the force of life and hope and all the good that was left in this world, it expanded.
It expanded and washed over the hounds, over IT, burning them away like a nuclear explosion would rip away flesh from bones and leave nothing behind but dust.
SPN
Almost simultaneously, both men's eyes flew open, followed by sharp intakes of air, oxygen filling their lungs.
Above them, the huge vent was drawing its circles unimpressed and evenly by what was happening. Unaware of all the emotions and feeling palpable in the small round bunker.
"Sammy."; Dean breathed, on all fours and above Sam the very moment he realized that he was back. That THEY were back.
"Dean?" it sounded distant, and though different from how he had been saying Dean's name lately.
He stared up at a pair of forest-green eyes, which sparkled with joy.
Sam's lips tugged upwards and he propped up on his elbows, ignoring the dizziness, and the fine tendrils still holding onto him.
Sam reached for the older man's face, feeling the stubbled – though soft – skin against his palm, feeling the warmth that was radiating from him. Eventually his hand snuck around the back of Dean's neck and he pulled him down, crushing their lips together and he kissed him. Kissed him as if there was no yesterday and no tomorrow.
SPN