So, yes, sorter chapter, but I figured you'd probably want it sooner and shorter, than longer and much later. Because the next part is giving me some difficulty.
And I just want to thank everyone who reviewed. I love you for it.
And hey, if I get lots more reviews, I'll post again soon. If I get gasp thirty reviews (I know that's asking a lot) but if I get that many I will sit my ass down and crank out a chapter and get it done before this weekend when I leave for Seattle. And there are currently 34 alerts and 30 reviews… so, yeah. Some of you are being lazy. Please review, its my only form of payment.
Warning: Hmm… none really. Except that this is unbetaed, as is all my work. I'm a lonely rookie to the boards with no beta. hint hint Oh and this story will never be a Mary Sue zone, or a Wincest story. Just a heads up for anyone who may have been wondering.
Disclaimer: Do I honestly need one of these every time? This is just for kicks and giggles. I wish I owned something… but sadly I do not. The song is by Panic! At the Disco… and I just liked the song, if it somehow connects to the story, its purely by a beautiful accident.
Read and review. Flames are icky, but reviews make me smile for a long while: )
Chapter Three: Camisado
The I.V. and your hospital bed
This was no accident
This was a therapeutic chain of events
This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
It's not so pleasant
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal
Can't take the kid from the fight
take the fight from the kid
Sit back, relax
Sit back, relapse again
You're a regular decorated emergency
The bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake
Sam awoke when something cold and wet slid into his mouth, followed by fingertips closing his lips together. He sat up, gasping, choking. Two hard hits to his back sent the cool object back into his mouth, he bit down on it and it shattered.
Ice.
Sam opened his eyes and relaxed back against the pillows. Dean was sitting at his side, holding a cold compress on Sam's forehead and feeding him ice from a paper cup. Sam winced in the light of the room. Dean got up suddenly, watching him made Sam dizzy so he closed his eyes.
Click.
He opened them against the light in the room was much more welcoming. Dean sat down next to him again and offered him another piece of ice.
"No thanks." Sam said weakly. "What happened?"
"You blacked out." Dean whispered gently. "Thanks for telling me you were running a temperature of one hundred and two, you moron."
"One hundred and two?" Sam asked. Dean nodded angrily. "I didn't know… I… sorry." Sam said lamely.
"Yeah, you will be." Dean muttered. Sam smiled and knew the threat was empty. Dean set the cup down and sighed heavily. "Dad heard about them a little while after you left." He whispered. "I don't know, something about them, interested me, you know?" He shrugged and looked at Sam. He smiled, exhaling sharply from his nose and shaking his head in disgust. "I wasn't looking for a connection, but everything I read, man, it was just so… Winchester."
"What do you mean…?"
"The way their leader was brought into the world. Mother overhead, baptized in the blood of the vessel that carried him to his throne… or some sick…" Dean clenched his jaw tightly and balled his hands into fists. "I wanted to kill all of them. I would have. But they sent her."
"Serena?" Sam asked softly.
"She got right past us, Sam." Dean bit his lip, shaking his head again in disgusted hatred of himself. "She got right past me. Dad told me. Said she was bad news. He knew a girl like that couldn't be that innocent. She was dangerous, he told me. But I didn't listen… I didn't want to listen." Dean looked up at the ceiling as if the rest of the story was written up there. "I fell for her." He admitted slowly. "It was after Cassie so I really closed off, but she… she got in somehow…" He let his head fall forward. "Then he got in too."
"He?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, he. The demon."
"The demon?"
"Yeah, Sam. The demon." Dean nodded. "He took her over. He was trying to get to me so I could get to you and Dad. Wanted to use me to kill Dad and get you…" He sighed. "Get you to join them."
"So, Dad killed her on purpose?" Sam asked softly. Dean shook his head.
"No… the demon messed with her insides… it was an accident to kill her. She bled out too fast. And it wasn't like Dad was going to leave my side for her."
"So you didn't see her die?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.
"I was out cold."
"Maybe she's not dead…"
"She's dead Sam." He sighed. "They have more though. Like your buckets of crazy friend Meg. She's part of it. They're all siblings of some kind. This demon is their father."
There was a long silence. Dean sat, staring at the comforter. Sam sat, staring at Dean and absently fingering the cheap fabric.
"So… why me?" Sam asked softly.
"I've asked myself that so many times." Dean whispered. "I wish I knew, Sammy. I really do. I wish I could know more than anything in the world." His voice cracked at the end of the sentence and Sam realized how close to tears he was.
"How do you even know about all this?" Sam asked.
"There's this… book…" Dean explained. "I got my hands on it for a while, read all I could before they found me. Forcefully made me return it." He said with a slight smile that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "This demon's been around since the beginning of time. It's unstoppable." Dean closed his eyes. There. He'd said it.
"So then why the hell did you bring me here?" Sam yelled angrily.
"Because… the night before they come to get you, there is chance to beat it. There is one night, every year that it's vulnerable."
"Every year it comes for me?" Sam whispered.
"It couldn't before, Sam. Why do you think Dad moved us around so much?" Dean asked. "It could never get a steady position on you. Dad did everything he ever did for a reason."
"So… it found me at Stanford?" Sam asked. Dean looked down at his hands.
It hit Sam hard. Harder than a freaking semi truck. His chest froze and tears welled in his eyes. Dean looked up and bit his lip when he saw the realization in his little brother's eyes.
"Sam… I had to get you away…"
"Don't say it." Sam hissed.
"It was going to come for you!" Dean yelled. "What was I supposed to do? Dad came there every year that night, he was there to protect you! I didn't know what else to do! Dad disappeared on me with no instructions! I did the only thing I could…"
"You took me away knowing it was going to come! You took me from Jess, left her vulnerable…" Sam pressed his hands against his eyes. "You knew it killed Mom! Did you know it was going to kill Jessica too?" Sam yelled. When Dean didn't answer, Sam grabbed his shirt and pulled his face close. "Did you know, Dean!" Sam yelled.
"I didn't even think about it until I dropped you off that night." Dean said slowly. "Why the hell do you think I ran in there in time to pull you out?"
"Oh my God…" Sam whimpered and let go of his brother.
"Why do you think my eyes bled that night, Sam?"
"Because of Timothy Walker…" Sam whispered. Dean shook his head slowly, his face hard with grief. Sam shook his head too, his eyes watery, his eyes pleading with Dean. Don't say it. Just don't…
"I'm the reason Jessica is dead, Sam. It's my fault because I panicked and I didn't know how to protect you except to take you away. And I didn't think about her, honestly, I was just so goddamn happy to have my brother back for a while, I didn't think about your girlfriend."
"Shut up, Dean." Sam whispered. "Just stop." Sam tore the covers off and stood up, heading for the door, slipping on his shoes.
"Where the hell are you going?" Dean asked, getting to his feet.
"I really, really, need to go for a walk. I can't even think straight right now. I don't know if I should hate you… or what… If I don't get out of this room I'm going to explode." Sam explained calmly. Dean nodded, knowing he had no other option.
"Keep close and keep your phone on, we need to figure out our game plan when you come back." Dean explained. Sam nodded and walked out the door.
- - -
Sam did a mental recap.
So, my mother died over my crib, christening me into this dark organization that considers me the chosen one. Hmm, great. Question: Why me?
After my mother's strange death, my father took it upon himself to figure this information out. He kept it a secret, and protected me from the demon when he it returned each year on the anniversary of my mother's death. Oh God… should I be this calm about it? Is it weird that I'm calm?
My brother found their book. How that psycho does anything he does, I'll never know. So, the leader is this unstoppable demon, the same demon that killed my mother and tried to take over my brother to kill my father and get to me. And Meg works for him. Serena worked for him. Question: Why did I dream about Serena and how the hell does this man fit into it all?
Jessica's death may or may not be Dean's fault. He's been lying to me for the past eleven months and took me directly into lion's den, so to speak, knowing full well that he's more than likely going to get his ass killed. He said himself that it was unstoppable… correction, except for one night. Question: How does Dean think we're going to kill it? Better Question: Is Dean insane?
Sam sighed heavily and rubbed his face, inhaling the coastal air deeply. He honestly wished he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up and be in motel bed, the smell of coffee filling his nostrils.
All he had to do was wake up and it would be better. If he could just wake up, all this would go away.
Just wake up Sam and it will all be gone.
Just wake up and none of it will be real.
But he was all ready awake.
And it was all very real.
- - -
Dean wanted to break something. Or someone. Yeah. Break that demon. God, if he could get his hands on it. Watch out. He'd swing it against the wall, stomp on its face, torture it and completely ravage it.
The thought made him smile.
If demons felt pain, he'd cause it more pain than it'd ever felt before.
If demons could beg, he'd make it beg for its worthless life and then kill it slowly and painfully.
If demons could cry, he'd make it cry like a baby and then blow its goddamn head off and stick it on the wall.
What a lovely little prize.
"You're going insane, Dean." He whispered to himself and hung his head in his hands. "And now you're talking to yourself… nice." He sighed heavily and got to feet. He remembered seeing his father pacing a lot after Sam had left.
Did it help you, Dad? Did it make you worry less? Because I'm worried. And scared. Scared out my mind. And my head hurts. Did you worry yourself into headaches, Dad? Did your stomach hurt like this too when you worried about Sam? Did you sweat like this?
Dean started pacing.
How long ago had Sam left? Three minutes? Three hours? Damn it. He didn't know. Was it last night? This night?
Where am I?
What is the date?
Where the hell is Sam?
Dean felt his legs move from underneath him, and he wondered where they had gone to when his head met the ground painfully.
Before the darkness wrapped him in its cold blanket Dean's last thought was; "I shouldn't have let Sam go outside without his coat, he was running a fever."
- - -
Sam had no way of knowing how long he'd been outside. But he was shivering and so he figured it was long enough.
His head was still cloudier than downtown Seattle during the winter, but that damn headache wasn't as bad anymore.
He walked back to the motel room, dreading seeing Dean sitting on the bed the same way he'd been when Sam left. Part of him felt he needed to apologize, the other part felt that he deserved an apology.
But when he opened the door and saw Dean sprawled out on the ground, who owed who an apology didn't matter anymore.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, throwing the door shut and running to his brother's side. He lifted Dean's head, not liking the damp feeling he got when he touched the back of his brother's head. "Hey buddy, come on, wake up…"
"Two for one deal, huh?" Someone whispered. Sam froze and turned around slowly. It was the bitch lady, as Dean referred to her.
The cranky-Impala hating bitch lady.
Only now her hair was down in long waves and the scarf was gone to reveal a very wrinkled neck and her gloves were gone to reveal her old hands. He noticed her hair for the first time… it was speckled with gray. She'd hadn't seemed that old yesterday. She took off her sunglasses and Sam gasped. Her face was as young as he had imagined, but her eyes were an impossible blue color… her entire eyes.
"What did you do to him?" Sam yelled. She smiled.
"Just made him go to sleep." She explained. "You'll be joining him soon."
Sam wanted to get up, to run at her, but his legs failed him and he fell back, landing on his back. He struggled to get up, but failed miserably.
She laughed at his efforts.
"What… are you… going to do…?" Sam struggled to get the words out. Speak. Breath. Keep your eyes open. Listen. Think. Too much… Too tired…
"I'm the nightmare demon, Sammy. You should know that." She said softly. "I feed off pain, keeps me young… you two are just overflowing with pain. I smelt it a mile away." She inhaled through her nose. "Lovely."
"The murders… internal bleeding…"
"Not me." She explained. "Well, okay, one was, just the first one. The others are copycats. I opened the door for something much bigger, Sammy." She smiled. "But they're pleased with my work, they want me to continue." She looked at Dean. "I was just supposed to take him, not kill him of course, just make him a pile of worthless blubbering… but you're both so ripe… I might have to taste you both." She straddled Dean's waist and put her hands on either side of Dean's head. "And I'll let you watch, since it will just add to your flavor."
With a flick of her wrist, Sam was pinned against the wall, forced to watch.
"You'll love this, I promise." She whispered to him and then focused on Dean. She pouted her lips. "What a pretty brother you have." She cocked her head to the side. "I didn't realize how gorgeous he was, yesterday." She looked at Sam. "I mean, you're lovely, but Dean… wow." She ran her fingers over his lips and touched his eyelashes. "Such lovely features wasted… what a shame." She put her hands back on either side of his head and then tilted her own head back, whispering dark Latin phrases under her breath.
Dean's face twisted in agony, his body arched and his head tipped back, the muscles in his neck tightening and growing larger. His feet flexed and un-flexed, his fists clenched and unclenched.
Sam fought against his invisible restraints. But in the end he was doomed to watch his brother's mental war from the outside. Unable to help, unable to be the sidekick, unable to comfort.
But definitely able to cry.
And Sam did just that.
And he cried proudly. Each tear resonating in his determination. Each tear that fell was another reason to fight this. To fight it all.
Each tear that fell from his Dean's eyes was another reason to win. Another reason to beat it all.
- - -
A/N: I just have to say something real quick, this story is a complete accident. Its totally winged and yet, I keep making all these accidental connects… so if you find something that is like, an amazing connection, please, point it out because I can almost guarantee that it was done completely by accident and I probably don't even know its there. : )
Review and I will love you forever.