(9/7/2017) Texas is flooding, Florida is about to flood, and here I am in California roasting my booty off. Tell nature to spread some of that weather around instead of dumping it all in one place.
If you haven't read the entire chapter 45, head on back! It's up!
Note : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episodes, "I Know What You Did Last Summer" (SPN 4.9) and "Heaven and Hell" (SPN 4.10).
Thank you Sage of Wind Dragons, eivomlive, and Sal the guest for the reviews! And all you favoriters and followers leave a word and get FIRE!
Five months ago…
Buffy was approaching the end of her rope. She was tired of sitting in the car, tired of the same, skanky motels with their skanky beds, tired of her sorrow, just… tired. The fact that her remaining brother seemed determined to drown himself in liquor only exacerbated the issue. Slayer extraordinaire she might be, but lately all she'd felt like was a babysitter to a six and a half foot baby. It was definitely a downgrade from her previous position in life.
Ruby's home had been reduced to charred timbers and ashes by the gasoline-fueled fire. What little remained of Dean's body was commingled with the detritus. Before the authorities could fully comprehend that there were human victims of the blaze, Bobby called in a favor from a hunter named Rufus Turner who arrived the next day in full covert mode as a fire marshal. The middle aged black man barreled into the site without pause. He immediately shooed away the "small-town amateurs" who were, quite simply, "fucking up his investigation" and needed to leave. Now.
Once they were gone, Bobby snuck in and gathered as much as he could of Dean's remains. Afterwards, the siblings' adoptive uncle gave Rufus their thanks, to which the other hunter replied, "You're welcome. And don't you ever call on me again."
They met Bobby at a rest stop on I–5. The elder man flat out refused to open the box he'd preemptively nailed shut saying that neither Sam nor Buffy needed to see what was inside. An aimless road trip followed with Sam roaring down the highway, Bobby following as best he could, searching for the best place to put his brother's remains. After three days of fast food, sleeping in the car, and being generally unhygienic, Buffy put her foot down and demanded Sam decide on a location or she would find the first patch of dirt and bury both of her brothers in a deep hole.
Sam picked a wooded copse outside of Pontiac, Michigan, somewhere he said that their father had once taken them on a hunt and that he knew the area well. They set Dean's body into the earth and marked it with a simple cross.
San and Buffy then immediately parted ways with Bobby. They shot down every offer of shelter and every insistence of his that they needed to rest and recuperate from their ordeals. Buffy was the only one who spared a glance backwards as they drove off. She couldn't decide whether the man was more angry or sad.
The pair booked a motel room somewhere on the outskirts of Grand Rapids. Buffy took a long, long shower before gratefully passing out onto her bed. When she woke up the next morning, she was astonished to find her (rather pungent) brother lying on the floor. An empty bottle of whiskey lay under one outflung hand. When he recovered, they drove off.
The next week proceeded in much the same manner, at least for Sam. He would drive until he felt like stopping, they would book a motel, and then he would drink himself into oblivion. Buffy, however, either apathetically watched television or walked aimlessly around whatever town they were in until exhaustion set in. She tried his method of dealing with their misery once, woke up with the most astoundingly horrific hangover, threw up every meal she'd ever eaten, and made the decision to never touch alcohol again.
Thankfully she managed to think of a coping mechanism that both distracted her and got Sam to consider sobriety. They'd spent the months before Dean's death trying to circumvent his crossroads deal coming due; now they could change tactics to trying to pull him out of Hell.
Sam blinked owlishly at his sister when she mentioned the possibility. A maniacal gleam suddenly entered his eye, one that took Buffy aback. He immediately tossed his half full bottle of Jim Beam into the trash and marched into the bathroom to take an invigoratingly cold shower.
They avoided Bobby and Giles (despite the elder men's extensive libraries neither Sam or Buffy were prepared to face their respective father figures), but they managed to unearth a few tomes that had been squirreled away by various demons and witches. The Roadhouse and its regular supply of hunters became a secondary source. Those visits were often fraught with tension as Buffy spurned Jo's many attempts to get her to talk and Sam treated both Ellen and Ash as if they were informants rather than friends.
It was dead end after dead end. Two days ago Buffy had found her brother lying on the floor of the bathroom. An empty bottle was in the tub and a vile slurry floated in the toilet. A similar scene occurred last night. Now he'd gone out who knew where and had yet to return.
She fingered the claddagh ring hanging around her neck. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Sam needed her, desperately, but she hadn't really taken a moment to mourn her losses. Sure, there were the nightmares and the crying herself to sleep, but where was the, "It'll be all right, Buffy" and the, "I'm here for you, Buffy"?
The town in… wherever they were at (Nebraska? Oklahoma? Somewhere flat, unpopulated, and hot) was small. Buffy had already done one circuit of the entire town and was contemplating a second.
A sudden thought occurred to her as she recalled her wanderings. There had been one particular intersection that was invitingly isolated and rather fascinatingly set in precise right angles. The road had yet to be paved despite its frequent usage, and the soil was loose enough to be disturbed easily by hand.
In other words, a near perfect crossroads.
At that revelation, Buffy cried, "Son of a bitch!" (in a manner Dean would have been extremely proud of) and sprinted out of the motel.
She arrived just in time to see her intoxicated brother slam Ruby's knife into a demon's hand. "I don't want ten years," Sam growled. "I don't want one year. I don't want candy! I want to trade places with Dean."
"No," snarled the demon.
"But I want candy," Buffy said blithely. Her brother stumbled backwards away from the demon and stared at her, dumbfounded.
The Slayer gave the demon a look that had him cringing. "Don't. Move." She then turned the same caustic expression on Sam. "What the hell are you doing?"
The far taller man loomed threateningly. However, in Sam's drunken state Buffy was more concerned about being puked on than any possible violence. "I'm getting our brother back," he slurred. "And this dickhead won't deal!"
A wry chuckle cut through their exchange. Both siblings jerked their heads towards the demon. "Because Dean's in Hell, right where we want him," he hissed. "We've got everything exactly the way we want it."
"That makes no sense!" Sam shouted. "Lilith wants me dead. Just let Dean go and she can have me."
"I can't. I won't. You want to kill me? Go ahead. I've made my peace."
Momentarily confounded, Sam snatched up his discarded bottle and resumed emptying the contents. Buffy, however, folded her arms and declared, "Then take me."
Her brother choked on his liquor as the demon licked his lips. "The Slayer in Hell," he murmured. "Oh, that I'd live to see the day."
"Well, here I am." Buffy flung her arms out as Sam coughed and croaked out denials. "One time offer! Slayer for Dean Winchester. Going once…"
The demon remained silent. "Going twice…?"
Before Buffy could finish her countdown, the creature snarled, with great reluctance, "No."
"Fine." Without further ado the Slayer yanked the Kurdish blade from the demon's hand and stabbed it into the thing's neck.
As it sparked and died, Sam grabbed his sister's shoulder and spun her around. Her nose wrinkled indelicately at his breath. "What were you thinking?"
"What was I —" Buffy stomped her foot. "What were you thinking? That this was somehow going to make it all better? Did you finally drink every single one of your brain cells to death?"
"Dean's death is my fault and I will fix it! Even if it means I take his place."
Present…
"Then she punched me," Sam said ruefully. "A lot."
"Seriously?" Dean asked his sister.
"Oh, because you would have reacted so much better in that situation." she answered.
Sam rubbed his jaw ruefully. The bruises he'd found there the next day had been extremely memorable. "Anyways," he continued. "That's when the other demons showed up."
Five months ago…
Buffy was yelling something Sam found completely incomprehensible when he spotted the headlights coming in from the north. He spat out a nauseating mixture of blood and whiskey before pointing wordlessly at the approaching vehicle.
His sister was immediately on alert. She rushed over to yank Ruby's knife from the crossroad demon's body and stood protectively in front of him. Ironic, Sam thought, that she'd been the one he'd needed protection from just a few minutes ago.
"Maybe they're just lost," Buffy murmured hopefully.
No such luck. The car slid to a stop and birthed two strangers, a nondescript man in a suit and a full lipped brunette. The man marched over to the woman and grabbed her upper arm in a vise-like grip. Unsurprisingly, the man bore black eyes. The woman took one glance at the corpse lying across the table and tried to bolt.
"Don't," the demon said menacingly. He shook his captive viciously. The brunette winced and nodded, obviously terrified.
Buffy glanced from the demon to the woman. She couldn't get to it before he harmed or killed her and Sam was too inebriated to be of any help. Snark was her only option. "I knew you demons were such manly men. Takes a lot to overpower us weak little girls."
"Shut up," it snarled. Before Buffy could think of further rejoinders she found herself flying. Her head clanged into the dim lamppost and she fell bonelessly to the dirt.
Sam lunged for the Kurdish blade but stopped when it flew into the air and into the woman's hand. "Thanks for not letting this burn with my house, Sam," she said.
"Ruby," he growled back. The hunter cursed himself; sober he might have realized the ruse of the hapless victim for what it was. Without the blade it was impossible to take on two demons at once. He settled for glaring murderously.
"It's nice to be back," Ruby purred. "Where I was, even for Hell, it was nasty. I guess I really pissed Lilith off. Imagine my relief when she gave me one last chance to take it topside. And all I had to do was find you and kill you."
"Hurry up and do it," the other demon snapped as he gazed hungrily at Buffy's prone form.
"Fine." Nonchalantly, Ruby flipped the blade into a reverse grip and stabbed her counterpart in the back.
A few delirious moments passed while Sam fought to comprehend what had just happened. Ruby hurried over to Buffy and cradled her in her arms. She took a few steps towards the Impala before realizing Sam wasn't following. "Well?" she called impatiently. "We've got to go. Now!"
Present…
"Buffy, she saved our lives," Sam argued.
"Sure she did," his sister countered. "While I was knocked out and had no idea what was going on she totally did that."
"Dude," Dean said as he plunked down his beer. "Why are you so freaking bent out of shape about this?"
"Because as soon as she showed up Sam forgot I existed!"
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. Chastised, Sam bowed his head as he locked his fingers and set his elbows on his knees. "She… She was teaching me to use my powers. I didn't think you'd approve."
"You didn't think I'd approve," Buffy repeated disbelievingly. "But lying about it and acting like everything was suddenly okay was all right."
"Fine, it was more than that," Sam sighed. "She was helping me cope in other ways too. I mean, I was a crappy student!" He threw his hands out as he remembered his own exasperation . "I wanted everything to be perfect right away! You can't believe how frustrating it was. And-And along with that… well… she gave me something you couldn't."
"What could a demon have given you that your sister couldn't?"
Both of his siblings lifted their eyebrows when Sam's cheeks reddened. "Um. Well it wasn't so much the, um… demon… as it was… well…" He cleared his throat. "I mean, she showed me medical papers that said her vessel was brain dead anyways and that meant the soul was gone, so when we… I mean it really wasn't—"
"Sam," Dean cut in harshly. "If you make me think about what it's like to get it on with Ruby I will take a knife and stab myself in the brain to get rid of the imagery."
"Ugh," Buffy groaned as she dropped her face into her palms. "Too late."
"It was more than just that!" Sam said defensively. He shot to his feet and began to pace. "She said things to me when I would have gone right to Lilith, ready or not. I was ready to die to kill that bitch and she told me…" He heaved another great sigh and turned to Dean. "She told me that it wasn't what you would have wanted. And," Sam said as he then turned to Buffy, "she told me that I still had a sister to look out for."
"Then why didn't you do it?" Buffy asked quietly. "You were there, Sam, the whole time. But you weren't."
"What do you mean?" asked Dean.
Without taking her eyes off of her younger brother, Buffy said, "He stopped drinking. That was good. But then every chance he'd get he was gone. We'd get somewhere. He'd take off. I didn't know where. He'd take the car so for all I knew every night he was going to leave me wherever we were."
Sam began to explain. "I was with—"
"Yeah, we know who you were with and what you were doing," snapped Dean. "What I don't get is if you're tellin' me she convinced you that you still had family to take care of then why didn't you do it?"
Sam sat heavily down on a recliner. "Because by the time Ruby managed to get my head on straight you were back. Buffy," he said mournfully, "you can't know how sorry I am, how much it eats me up that I failed you like that. And… And I don't even know where to begin to fix it."
"Let's start with no more secrets," Buffy answered. "No more lies."
The final morsel what of his clandestine dealings with Ruby entailed lay on the tip of Sam's tongue. But with both his siblings now able to look past his months of self-indulgence he couldn't let it out. Later, he promised himself. After they'd forgiven him completely for this summer. Then he could tell them everything.
"All right," Sam lied quietly. "I promise."
Buffy nodded, then in a quick reversal of attitude leapt from her seat to wrap her arms around her younger brother's neck. "I love you, Sam," she whispered, "but sometimes you make it really hard to like you."
Sam huffed out a wry chuckle before untangling himself from his sister. She sat down and took another sip of Coke as both her brothers reached for another beer. "Okay," Sam said shakily as he tipped his bottle towards Dean. "Your turn."
At first they didn't think he was going to say anything. Dean stared off into the distance and drank. "It was four months up here," he finally murmured, "but down there… Time's different. It was more like forty years.
"Oh, God," Buffy whispered.
And before his siblings could even begin to comprehend that nightmarish number, Dean began talking, relentlessly, remorsefully, what had been done to him in Hell. The indescribable pain. The illusions of his family mutilating him and each other. Screaming and weeping and telling the demon who did these things to go fuck himself every time he was offered reprieve, for the only way to escape was to step off the rack and do these atrocities to others. Then, after all of that, the next day he was miraculously whole, and everything would begin again.
Then the tears began to flow.
"For thirty years, I told him 'no'," Dean said, his voice cracking. He put his beer on the table and locked his fingers together. "But then I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it," he whispered, his voice spiking in pitch, "and I started ripping them apart! The things I did to them…"
"Stop!" Buffy cried. She jumped to her feet, her own eyes wet. "Thirty years, Dean," she said as she knelt down in front of her big brother. "You held out for thirty years. It's longer than anyone could have. And… And you only did it to stop them from hurting you."
"No," Dean choked out harshly. "I didn't."
"What?" Sam said, startled.
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, her eyes widening.
Their brother's knuckles whitened. His eyes were savage, lost in bloody memories, while his voice bore a mix of loathing and gratification. "All those years of pain. Getting to deal some of it out yourself made it just wash away. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Could have been either of you. Could have been Jo or Joyce or Willow; I would have just cut them up. What I did to them I did for the sheer pleasure of it."
Buffy stood up on quivering legs and stepped back from Dean as he began to both laugh and cry. "You think Sam was being a monster? You think you guys got demon in you? Well you ain't nothing to what I became down there." He swiped his sleeve across his eyes and stood. "There's this hole in me now and nothing's gonna fill it. Not booze or sex or killing monsters. So there. I talked. We done?"
Neither of his siblings spoke as both Sam and Buffy realized how insignificant their misery had been compared to what their brother had been through. Through the silence Dean wrestled with his turmoil and self-loathing and brought his tears under control. He picked up his beer as his stood, chugged the rest down, and hurled the empty bottle into Angel's dusty fireplace. Buffy jumped at the explosive shatter.
"Dean?" Sam said cautiously.
"Don't," Dean growled. "Just don't. Just… Ieave me alone for a while, okay?"
"Okay, Dean," Buffy told him, the pity in her eyes a blade in his heart. "Whatever you need."
"Yeah," he muttered. He turned his back on his family to head for the hallway. After a few steps into the darkness he leaned against a wall. Relief flooded through him when neither sibling followed. Their voices drifted faintly down the corridor before disappearing completely as they left the manor.
Dean slid down to the floor, then cut off a startled gasp when a voice said quietly, "You didn't tell them."
"No," he replied hoarsely, lowering his gaze as Angel crouched down in front of him. "They don't need to know."
Undeterminable day
Angel hadn't heard from Dean in a while. How long it was exactly he couldn't say. The days and weeks and months were blending into an amalgam of suffering and despair. Without his unseen confidant it became harder and harder to keep from descending in madness. How much longer he could maintain the effort through the unceasing torment was a question he was afraid to ponder.
Idly he wondered what they would do with him if he did lose his sanity. After all, the vampire's presence was an anomaly that seemed to perpetually delight the demons. He supposed that after eons of scourging only human souls an intact monster was a great novelty.
Angel sighed. In the last few days before Dean had disappeared the man had begun to shut down. He'd refused to engage in their daily routines and rejected any attempt to further mundane conversation. There were stretches of time where the vampire spoke without expecting an answer in the hopes that his voice offered Dean a modicum of comfort.
But then came the day when there was a dearth of sound that wasn't mere silence. Even down here Angel's senses were heightened. He'd been able to hear Dean's breathing and the shuffles that signified even the most minute adjustment in position.
Now there was nothing.
A few panicked theories ran through the vampire's head. They'd somehow tortured Buffy's brother so far as to obliterate his soul. They'd finally heard their furtive whispers and moved Dean to another cell. They'd decided to permanently leave him on the rack.
Or, and this was something Angel refused to believe, Dean had accepted the demon's offer.
He was contemplating this theory when the demons came to take him for his daily dose of horror. They threw his slack body onto a rack (struggling, Angel found, only made the things more excited) and locked him in.
Angel had discovered that each demon had a distinct footstep in accordance to whatever form chose their fancy. Most of them tended to stay with whatever they had looked like as a human being. Perhaps the familiarity created a shred of hope.
These steps, however, were new. And the grating, mocking voice definitely so. "Angelus," it purred. "And how are we today, hmm?"
Defiant, Angel jerked against his restraints and bared his teeth at the demon. It tsked at him. "Now, now I would have thought you'd learned some manners after all this time. I'm letting someone special take care of you today. It'll be a treat for the both of you." The demon gestured and another set of feet approached. Angel snapped his head over to the new arrival…
And saw Dean.
"Now remember," the demon said pedagogically, "the heart and the head need to remain intact. Everything else is fair game."
Angel's eyes widened at Buffy's brother's smirk. "I think by now I know what I'm doing," Dean said coldly. He picked up a shaving razor and licked his lips in anticipation.
"Isn't this wonderful?" the demon said to Angel. Its face bore a grin of delight. "Two friends, together again. I must congratulate myself for orchestrating such a grand reunion."
So. Dean's presence with him in their cells was no accident. They had put the man there specifically so that they could take him away. The creatures had given them both the chance to build each other's hope up in order to bring it crashing down. Despair lodged in the vampire's heart and he fought desperately to loosen its hold.
"Dean, you don't need to do this," Angel cried pleadingly. "They can't make you do anything you don't want!" His friend hesitated, the gleaming edge of his razor poised on top of the vampire's belly.
"Deeeeean," sang the demon. "I'm wai-ting!"
"Don't listen to him," urged Angel. His anguish spiked when Dean's expression hardened.
"Shut up," the man growled as he reached into the vampire's mouth and sliced off his tongue.
Present…
"Dean," Angel said softly. "What you did to me… What you kept doing to me…" The vampire shook his head. "Whatever happened to me in Hell was well deserved. Dean," he repeated as he gently reached out and tipped the man's head up, "I forgave you for it. It's time you forgive yourself."
"I can't," Dean choked out. "I can't."
Finally, in the face of possible redemption, in the absence of family, Dean's tenuous hold on his emotions snapped. The tears flowed, slow at first, then in a waterfall of despair. His frame was wracked with sorrow, jerking with every sob, and nothing he told himself could make the deluge of self-abhorrence and misery stop. When Angel put a hand on his shoulder, ostensibly for comfort, it only made him cry harder.
He could save a hundred lives. He could save a thousand. But nothing he could do would ever bring him absolution.
Author's Note : I'm letting the Roadhouse still exist because I like the place. Also I never mentioned it burning down and Ash dying which gave me an unintentional opening to do so. Anyone who objects: Thbbt.
