Sam was in "hunting" mode. It was easy to follow the trail of whatever it was that had snatched Dean – that was the idea, wasn't it? Sam tried to convince himself that the pounding of his heart was pure adrenaline, but deep down he knew it was due to fear as well. He convulsively clutched the knife in his right hand as he followed the meager light from the flashlight in his left.
Sam's trip through the forest had a sense of hyper-reality and déjà vu. He'd experienced it all before in his nightmares, the only difference was he knew that this trip would be the last. The trees looked familiar, the silent forest was familiar, and the ramshackle house that rose up from behind a fallen oak made his guts twist with remembered fear.
Sam took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew nothing was going to happen until he got into the house – at least if his dreams could be believed. For the moment, Dean was safe. But…if his dreams could be believed, neither one of them would make it out alive – it was best not to count on that. Sam moved ahead and into the house.
In his mind he frantically tried to recall what he had said before in the dreams, or what had been said to him. He couldn't remember any of it – he supposed it was because actions spoke louder than words. Or in his case, inaction spoke louder than words.
No, not this time. I won't let Dean die. I can't!
Sam walked through the unfamiliar, yet totally familiar house. He knew without question how to find the stairs and made his way down to the basement. And there were the candles to light his way. He heard a voice whisper, "He's coming." The voice drew him on.
Sam knew exactly what he was going to see when he entered the doorway. Dean was tied to an old wooden table (alter) near the center of the room. He was surrounded by neat stacks of kindling. Sam's heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest. Everything Jonathan had said about believing and embracing the fire at the center of the wheel flew out of Sam's head when the malevolent voice greeted him. "Welcome, young one. I've been waiting for you for a long time."
Sam was relieved when Dean's head whipped around. If Dean was conscious, he'd have a better chance of getting him out of there. He could see Dean was trying to speak, and was struggling against the ropes that held him.
"Come in." the creature continued. Its voice sent a shiver of revulsion down Sam's spine. "It's time we took care of business."
Sam stepped resolutely into the room. He was impressed with how steady his voice sounded when he finally began to speak. "I've come for my brother."
He had to get closer to Dean, and he had to do it quickly. If he could just cut through one of the ropes, the rest would fall away and Dean would be free.
"Of course, of course. That's why we're all here. All it'll take to free him is one slice from that knife."
It disturbed Sam that the creature had put what he had just been thinking into words. It was too easy. He knew it, and he could see that Dean knew it too. Dean was still trying to speak, but was unable to produce anything audible. But Sam could read the expression on his face, and it wasn't anything he remembered from his dreams. Dean wasn't struggling because he was worried about himself; he was trying to break free because he was worried about Sam. It made Sam pause.
"You hesitate, little one." Sam almost laughed out loud when Dean rolled his eyes. I don't remember ever wanting to laugh in my nightmares. Are things already different enough to be changed?
The creature seemed to think Sam's approach was taking too long. "Perhaps your brother doesn't mean as much to you as I thought. I shall put you to the test."
The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard held a frighteningly familiar tone to Sam, and all of his doubts came crashing back. Dean was expecting a blow from the sword, so he flinched violently when flames shot out and surrounded him instead. Even with the rope severely constricting his airway, Dean turned and shouted, "Sam!"
Sam got a good look at Dean's face before the flames intensified and blocked him from view. He was sad and disappointed. He was angry at himself because he had failed. He didn't blame Sam for failing him, he blamed himself for failing Sam, because in that final look that passed between them, Dean was certain that Sam would leap into the fire in an attempt to save his live, and instead give up his own.
Sam was stunned. All this time, all these weeks, he'd been obsessing about his fears – how he didn't know if, when the time came, he would be able to face the fire. Dean had no doubts at all, and that's what spurred Sam into action. Jonathan's words echoed in his head, It is not what you know, it is what you believe. Sam's fear was not nearly as great as his desire not to let his brother down. "Dean!"
He leapt into the fire.
Even as he slid the knife under the rope around Dean's neck, Sam could feel the fire reaching for him. The look on Dean's face was one of total horror, and then his eyes rolled back into his head. "Dean!" Sam shook Dean hoping that if he roused him enough he might be able to make it out of the inferno on his own. When Dean didn't respond, Sam knew he had the responsibility of getting them both out.
Sam was shaking uncontrollably with pain from the flames that sought to consume him. The creature was standing nearby chortling with glee. That's when Sam felt his power leaving him – the creature was drawing it away, as if it was his to take. Sam was incensed, and instead of trying to fight the fire, he invited it in. Sam closed his eyes and pulled the flames closer until they filled him up with more power than he ever knew he had. The creature reacted with anger yelling denials, but Sam couldn't make out his words over the rush of the flames.
Sam rose up on his knees as he pulled the power that had been stolen from him back from the creature. The creature shrieked in madness and attacked Sam with his sword. Sam met the wide overhand arc from the sword with the knife in his right hand and pushed the creature away. Sam pursued immediately, pushing the fight away from where Dean lay – any uncontrolled blow could unintentionally cost Dean his life.
Sam felt a rush of power that came not from the fire, but from the course of action he had chosen to take. He went on the offensive, pushing the creature further and further away from Dean. Sam was filled with light and purpose, and for the first time, got a good look at the creature who had stolen so much in his life. It was disconcerting to realize he looked like an average man. He was so nondescript, it would be simple to lose him in a crowd and almost impossible to pick him out of a line-up. How was it that something that appeared so innocuous could be the source of so much fear and pain?
Sam had had enough. "You want to feel my power?! TAKE IT!" With an underhand sweep, Sam drove his knife up under the creature's ribs until it was buried in its heart. The creature was instantly engulfed in flames and screamed in agony as it collapsed against the basement wall. Sam screamed as well as his power was released – it coursed through his body, changing every molecule it burned through.
Sam pulled the knife out of the creature's chest and watched impassively as it fell to the ground consumed in the flames it had thought to use against Sam. For a long moment, all Sam could do was stand frozen and try to get his ragged breathing under control. He looked blankly at the basement wall as it was licked by orange-yellow flames. The heat on his face brought him back to reality. The fire was no longer his to control, and the house they were in was a fire-trap.
Hastily, Sam wiped Jonathan's knife on the leg of his jeans as he turned back to Dean. Hoisting his brother over his shoulders, Sam made a break for the door. The trip up the rickety stairs and through the dilapidated house was hellish; the flames moved faster than Sam. But he managed to get the both of them out of the house. Depositing Dean at the base of a large tree a fair distance from the house, Sam turned back to watch it burn. It seemed to be a pattern in his life – watching houses burn.
Then Sam did something that was probably crazy, but he felt compelled to do, and somehow he knew it would work. He walked back toward the house. When he was standing before the porch that was engulfed in flames, he stopped and closed his eyes. One thing Sam understood about fire was that it was greedy. Often when fires raged out of control, it was looking for a life. This fire had wanted his, but had gotten another.
Take the house. Take everything within. You were called to take a life…and you took one. Please, don't take any more.
Sam was relieved beyond belief when the fire acquiesced. Maybe it was because it had been a part of him for a time. Maybe it was satisfied with the power it received from the life it had consumed. It didn't matter why. The fire wouldn't spread into the forest.
Exhausted, Sam returned to where Dean lay unmoving. Suddenly he could not stand the idea of being alone. He dropped to his knees next to Dean and gave him a shake. "Dean?" He tried again, louder. "Dean!"
Sam could see Dean's eyes rolling around under his eyelids. He took that as a good sign. "Dean!" he demanded again.
This time Dean groaned in response and before he even opened his eyes he was reaching out for Sam. "Sam? Sammy?" Dean had him by the jacket, and Sam let himself be pulled in close so Dean could see his face. "Sammy."
Sam cracked a smile, so relieved to be doing something so normal. "It's Sam." Then he just couldn't take it anymore and gave up any pretense of being strong or invulnerable. He scooted closer to Dean and dropped his head on his shoulder. Sam couldn't stop the tremors that shook his body.
Sam was so grateful that Dean didn't push him away. And when he put an arm around Sam's shoulder, it made him want to weep. He might have if Dean wouldn't have called him a pansy.
"What happened Sam?" Sam really didn't want to relive the whole thing right now – even if the ending was far better than he expected.
"Is it safe to stay here, Sam?" Sam nodded. "Then tell me what happened."
It was just like when they were kids and Sam had one of his nightmares, he would curl himself under Dean's arm…if you didn't call it a hug, it didn't count. Sam knew that was the safest place in the world.
"Remember that secret I never told you…"