Sophia's Chronicles
A/N:
This episode refers heavily to The Girl Next Door, S7E3. Note that since Purgatory wasn't opened, no Leviathan burned down Bobby's house. I've altered the details of the episode accordingly and any deviations from canon could be attributed to the altered timeline. I also thought it would be interesting to see Sophia's commentary on the relationship between Sam and Dean, so excuse the constant references to their conversations.
Chapter 34: The Winchester I Needed
Bobby's House, South Dakota – 25 June 2011, 9.30pm
"Sam's chasing a what?" Bobby asked quizzically on the phone, as he sat at his desk. I had come to his house in search of Sam, but neither Winchester was here. Only their adoptive father, who appeared to be engaged in a call with Dean.
"A Kitsune. It's pretty rare. Dad and I hunted one back in '98," I heard Dean answer. "Just met the coroner and the vics had their pituitary glands sucked out."
"Vaguely rings a bell…" Bobby crinkled his nose, straining to remember.
"Yeah, didn't make our highlight reel."
"Well, least now we know he's working a job in Bozeman," Bobby reassured Dean. Bozeman… Montana, I noted.
"Yeah, but why pull the Houdini act?"
"Not a clue. What are you gonna do when you catch up?"
"I got a few ideas," Dean said before cutting the call. He would be in Bozeman right now, in proximity to the coroner's office. It wouldn't take that long for me to find him.
The Impala, Bozeman, Montana - 25 June 2011, 9.53pm
Dean tapped his fingers along to the beat of a song on the steering wheel as he drove along the road, solely illuminated by the streetlights at this hour. "We are the Sultans of Swing," he sang while grooving to the classic rock riff. I sat quietly, invisible, in the backseat of his rented car. He seemed to be upset that his brother stole his car, a polished piece of work that had a special place in my vessel's memory. I watched as he surveyed a number of motels and inns, asking the receptionists if they had spotted a large man with shoulder-length hair, even displaying a photo of Sam. This was interesting – just watching a human as he went about his daily business, considering the reaction it would evoke if I made myself visible to him. Without the Winchesters' guard-dog Castiel around, this was a lot easier. The things I could learn by just watching! I'd know their every move and what they intended. Such power felt glorious, like I could screw with them whenever I wanted. Then again, this was the reason why I was entrusted to protect knowledge from getting into the wrong hands. So that people with thoughts like these couldn't get their way. But that made me all the more powerful, didn't it?
Finally, Dean found the motel where Lars Ulrich was staying, an alias that Sam used. Thanking the receptionist for her help, he found the room and picked the locks, getting in. He browsed through Sam's notes for a while, when keys jingled outside the door. Dean stood poised near the door as it opened, before he straight-up clocked his brother in the face and knocked him backwards. Tough love, eh?
"Howdy Sam," he greeted, as Sam groaned and got up. They both entered the room, Sam touching his forehead to feel where Dean struck him and Dean walking in furiously. "New rule: you steal my baby, you get punched." I'd feel the same way too if someone took something I'd worked hard to maintain away from me like that. Learn some manners, Sam. "The hell were you thinking, Sam, running off like that?" he nagged as Sam reached into a fridge for a cold can to decrease the swelling. "I mean, for all I know, Satan could have been callin your plays." Come again?
"Dean, look, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine," Sam argued.
"Oh yeah, no, you're a poster boy for mental health. You have any idea the horror shows I have going on in my head?"
"Dean, I left you a note. There was a job in town."
"A Kitsune," Dean identified. "Yeah, I know. And you ignore Bobby and I's phone calls why, exactly?" Ooh, the cold shoulder. That's gotta hurt.
"Because I wanted to take care of it. And I did. I took care of it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Where's the body?" Dean probed.
Sam hesitated, pursing his lips as Dean approached. "There is no body," he admitted. The plot thickens.
"Why not?"
"Because I let her go. She's gone."
"You what?" Dean frowned. "Why?"
Sam recounted a memory while Dean listened patiently. He told his brother that he knew this creature from they were young and how she had saved his life while his own father and brother were hunting her mother. A touching tale, really, about how bonds of friendship could be formed across species. Much like between Dog and I, the hound that I adopted the night I went in search of shapeshifters.
"You never told me that," Dean complained when Sam finished.
"I never told anyone," Sam confessed. "I mean can you imagine what Dad would have done?"
Dean stared at the ground in thought, keeping his arms folded and leaning against a table where he stood. "So you saw the article in the newspaper and you just bolted?"
"It was my mess."
"And you call letting her go cleaning it up?"
"She killed her own mom, Dean, to save me," Sam reasoned.
"I hear you Sam, I do. But look at her now. She's dropping bodies man. Which means we got to drop her, no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid. I'm sorry, but it's that simple."
"Nothing in our lives is simple," Sam remarked. Spoiler: It's about to get even less simple.
"Look, man, I get it, okay? You meet a girl, you feel that spark, there's nothing better. But this freak?"
Sam slammed his can on the table, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. Yeah, what the hell, Dean? His feelings are valid.
"I didn't mean…" Dean began to make an excuse.
"Yeah, you did," Sam stopped him.
"I see the way you look at me, Dean, like I'm a grenade and you're waiting for me to go off." I still didn't get this part. Was there something wrong with his sanity? Would make sense since he got his soul back from the freakin cage and I specifically told Lucifer to go hard on him.
"Sam…"
"I'm not going off. I might be a freak, but that's not the same as dangerous." Aw. I had to admit that I did feel a little bit of sympathy for him. This scenario was oddly similar to the time Lucifer got the Mark. He slowly slipped into insanity and everyone, including his own brothers and Father, lost their faith in him and I couldn't bear to see that happen. It must have been sad to see the people you thought you could count on lose hope in you like that. My mission could have a mutual benefit for the both of us after all.
"I didn't say…" Dean started.
"It's okay. Say it," Sam prompted. "I've spent a lot of my life trying to be normal, but come on, I'm not normal. Look at all the crap I've done. Look at me now. I'm a grade-A freak. But I'm managing it. And so is Amy."
"Is she? How?"
"She works in a damn funeral home so she doesn't have to kill anyone, Dean. She's figured out how to deal."
"Okay, well, then explain the bodies."
"She's done," he stated as a matter-of-fact. "Her freakin kid was dying, Dean. Put you or me in her position, we'd probably do the same thing." Or me. "Look, you don't trust her. Fine. Trust me." The look on Dean's face said everything I needed to know. It was that I-get-you-but-you're-wrong-on-this-one look. A look that conveyed pity and a lack of respect for someone's decision. Something I'd seen way too many times.
Whatever he'd decided, Dean eased his shoulders and gave a half-nod. "Okay," he relented.
"Seriously?"
"Got to start sometime, right?" That's a load of crap. I could tell. But Sam believed it.
Spokane, Washington – 26 June 2011, 11.23am
The next morning, they stopped over at a town called Spokane before planning to go back to Bobby's later that day. I know I could have nabbed Sam in his sleep, but I was genuinely curious how this would play out. Was Dean really going to let this go? I was as hooked onto this drama as a human to a television show. Dean, asking Sam to check into a motel, went off to "get the pie that didn't make it". Noting the room number, I caught up with Dean's Impala, which was stationed outside another motel. I'd barely entered the room when I spotted him, standing over the body of a woman I assumed was Amy. He pulled out a knife from her chest, revealing a wound that had been fatal to her. Just… wow. I had my suspicions but to see them confirmed like this… I couldn't decide if I felt sorry for Sam because his brother went behind his back to undo his choice, or glad that Sam had reason to accept the comforting embrace of angel possession.
Either way, the one who suffered most from Dean's inability to trust his brother stood at the doorway, observing with a murderous rage building inside him – Amy's son. This saddened me deeply. Amy wanted nothing but the best for her son and here he was, orphaned right before his eyes. What that must do to a child… I felt contempt for Dean bubbling up within me as the boy swore to avenge his mother's death. Well, now was a good time as any to get what I came here for.
Before Dean could reach the motel, I got to Sam and flew him to the dark confines of my basement.
Sophia's House, Illinois – 26 June 2011, 12.42pm
"W-What the hell?" he exclaimed as he looked around himself in shock.
"Hello again, Sam," I greeted him.
He jerked, turning toward me. The room was dark, save for the little sunlight that entered through the small panels of glass near the ceiling.
"You," he recognised, heaving breaths of panic. I could hear the sound of his heart pounding faster and even smell the adrenaline pumping in his body. Ah, the sweet smell of fear.
"Do not be afraid, Sam. I don't want to hurt you," I comforted him.
"Right, because you didn't want to hurt me the last time either…" he shot back.
"Desperate times," I waved it off.
"Where am I?" he growled.
"Safe. I just want to talk." I took a few steps toward him but he pulled out his gun. "You know that won't work on me, right? Eh, whatever makes you comfortable."
"Whatever you're doing, my brother will find you," he threatened.
"I doubt it. He's busy not trusting you."
His head tilted, confused.
"I know about Amy and-"
"Have you been spying on us?"
I sighed. "Semantics…" I shook my head. "That's not the point. She's dead, Sam." His eyebrows furrowed. "Dean 'cleaned up your mess'," I told him, holding up my fingers in air quotes.
His shoulders fell. Obviously, he was bothered by this. Returning his gaze back to me, he tightened his grip on the trigger. "What do you want?"
"Straight to the point, then. Your consent. I need you to say 'yes' to Lucifer," I revealed.
He huffed, like this was the silliest thing he'd heard. "No!"
"You've done it once before."
"Yeah, because I was gonna haul his ass back into the cage," he scoffed. "And it worked."
Fury boiled up in me when he said this and I impulsively flung him to the side. He hit a pillar and fell, coughing and groaning as he clutched his side. My fists clenched just thinking about this utter betrayal. Lucifer may have hated humans, but he treated Sam with respect, just like I did with Zara. Without our vessels, we would be limited in our capacity to go about our business and we valued them as much. Lucifer was supposed to be his realisation of a destiny chosen for him ages ago – it was a truth to be attained. How could he just forsake it like that? And then gloat about it?
I picked him up by the collar and pressed him up against the pillar. "Listen to me, you mud monkey. You can either say 'yes' now, or I can make a really convincing case with my blades."
"Go to hell," he spat out.
"I could take you with me. Haven't you heard? I'm the Queen of Hell. I bet the demons would have a great time picking you apart inch by inch," I taunted through gritted teeth.
His jaw clenched, still reeling from the pain. Wasting no time, I brought out a torture table and strapped him to it.
"You know what, I think I'd like to have all the fun myself," I said. "I may not have tortured a human enough to turn one into a demon, but I like to think I've learnt a lot by watching Lucifer do it."
He struggled. The straps rattled as he tried to pull free of them with his wrists and ankles. Before I started, I sat at the edge of the table next to his abdomen, placing a hand on his chest and feeling his heart racing.
He looked at me, puzzled, unsure of what I would do next. I lay my head on his chest and extended my awareness, trying to find a connection with him. His body tensed up when I did this. "Why are you making this more difficult than it has to be, Sam?"
My eyes glowed and tendrils of green extended from me to him. As I felt his inner being like my own, I sensed the tiredness in his muscles and the exhaustion in his mind. It must have been from everything that happened over the last year, not to mention the betrayal by his brother that I just revealed to him. Then there was something else. I felt his soul, severely damaged but somehow still intact and functional. I probed further, assessing the damage Lucifer inflicted. Another year in the cage would have damaged it to the point of demonising it, no doubt. I felt along its cracks, trying to understand what he might be going through.
Of course! "You're hallucinating, aren't you?" I sat up and looked back at him.
He continued to frown. "What did you do to me?"
"I was connecting with you physically and spiritually. Now tell me, are you seeing the cage?"
He gulped, unsure of whether to answer. Eventually, he relented. "I'm seeing Lucifer."
"Hmm…" I nodded in acknowledgement. This was all interesting to me, evidently. "Are you seeing him right now?"
His eyes flickered between me and an empty space next to me. Then his eyes narrowed and he gave a disgusted expression. "He's saying… a lot of dirty things about you."
I rolled my eyes. "Sounds like him." I rested my forearm at the base of his neck and slowly lowered myself to see him eye-to-eye. Our faces were in close proximity to each other, with an intimacy I was trying to establish with him. "Listen, Sam, you've been through a lot in that cage. Your soul is damaged so badly that your condition is only gonna get worse. Now you're just seeing things dispersed in this reality, but how long till the cage is the only thing you see? You'll become a drooling mess in a wheelchair soon enough." His eyes widened. I could see the concern behind them. "I can help you end this. Lucifer can help you. He did this to you, so he can fix you. All you have to do is accept him."
Sam exhaled, his gaze hardening. "You think this will break me? Make me so desperate that I'll accept anything to make it go away? How simple-minded do you think I am?"
"If this doesn't break you, I can find something that will. You're in my territory, pal," I warned.
He huffed. "Go ahead. But I'd sooner go insane and die than release someone who only wants destruction."
I straightened up again, picking up a scalpel. "You'll be in here a while. Better get comfortable."
(Dean POV)
Spokane, Washington – 26 June 2011, 1.50pm
"Sammy?" He stood at the door of the motel room, scanning for a sign of his brother's presence. He'd just gotten back after killing Amy and got a piece of pie to keep up his ruse before going to the room number that Sam texted him. He set the pie down on the table and checked the bathroom. No one was there. He texted Sam, asking him about his whereabouts. The sound of a 'ding' and something vibrating made his heart skip a beat. He rushed over to the bedside table, finding that Sam had left his phone there. This wasn't like of him. Something's wrong, his instincts told him.
"Goddammit!" He sat, uncertain, on the bed while possibilities raced through his mind. "I leave for one second…"
He dialled Bobby immediately. "The other shoe, again!" he exclaimed.
"Sam took off again?" Bobby caught on.
"All his things are still here."
"Dean, are you sure? Maybe he went to get a drink or something."
"But there's no note, nothing! And he left his phone, Bobby. Something's up."
"He couldn't have gotten far. Keep searching, kid. Meanwhile, I'm working up a lead on those trees in Sioux Falls. Jody may have something. Keep me posted."
"Alright," Dean cut the call. Face etched with worry, he went out to the front desk, asking if anyone had seen his brother walking out, to no avail. He frantically searched every street corner in a ten-block radius, scouting for any indication of his brother's presence. With every minute that passed, his anxiety only grew worse. Where did you go, Sammy? He went inside every bar, every shop, every place he could think of that Sam would have gone. Still nothing. Now he had to consider the real possibility that Sam couldn't control his hallucination and went missing, or worse, hurt himself. He hated seeing this confirmation of his deepest fear – that "you are what you are" and what Sam was, was unstable. He swore to himself that if he ever found his brother, he would lock him up in Bobby's panic room until they figured out what to do. This was getting out of hand. Unable to do anything else, he retired to the motel room, hoping that Sam would find his way back.
(Sophia POV)
Sophia's House, Illinois – 3.30pm
Sam's loud cries of pain permeated throughout the whole basement. It was all-encompassing, like my desire to free Lucifer from the cage. His shirt and jacket lay on a messy pile on the floor. I would get what I wanted, one way or another. When I finally paused and set the bloody scalpel down, I ran a hand through his silky, dark hair. "You were supposed to be his liberation. The end to his pain. And he, yours," I whispered into his ear. "You complement each other. You were made for this."
I had the table tilted upwards such that he was almost upright. His eyes struggled to open. His chest heaved with effort as he panted for breath. "I'm… nothing… like… him…" he laboured to answer.
"What is the point of resisting? It's not like you have anything else going on for you," I questioned.
"I have my brother…" he winced as he felt the pain coming back to him from the lost skin on his right shoulder.
"You mean the one who doesn't trust you to make the right choices? The one who still treats you like you're a child who doesn't know what he's doing? You don't need people like that in your life. Why go back to that, when you can have a whole new life where you are strong and don't have to bow to anybody?" I tried convincing him.
"The answer… is still… no!" he resisted.
"You're tired. You're not thinking straight. We'll try again later." I left him to his thoughts as I went back up to the first floor, locking the door to the basement. As I stood on the porch, taking a deep breath, I rested my palms on my forehead. What would it take to convince a Winchester? The only thing coercion seemed to invoke from Sam was a stronger was going to take longer than I expected. I needed to go for a walk. When I took a step forward, I noticed something graze my foot. It was a small package.
Hassiel had left it here. I wondered if he'd heard Sam's screams, or whether he'd put it here when I'd gone out. Taking it in, I carefully opened the package, finding a box full of photos inside. They were the photos we took a few days earlier when we had all met up to celebrate Luc's birth. These were perfect – immortalised moments of pure happiness. There was one palm-sized photo of me holding Luc in my arms. It was too precious to keep in a box so I kept it with me at all times as a reminder of what really mattered in my life.
A/N:
Oh no, Sammy's been kidnapped! How will poor Dean try to rescue him? Now, not only does Sam have vivid hallucinations of Lucifer, but he is also being tortured by Sophia. Talk about a team-up. Normally, Sophia doesn't like getting violent. But when it comes to Lucifer, there is nothing she wouldn't do to be with him. Love can be destructive like that. It really brings out a side of her that she doesn't like, but she uses her love as an excuse to do it and she won't rest until she gets what she wants. Only problem is, she has a Winchester on her hands and they don't break easy. So what will she try next to get him to relent?
