Chapter Eight- It's A Cold And It's a Broken Hallelujah
Disclaimer- I do not own supernatural
Sam awoke from unconsciousness, someone was carrying him. His head was nestled on his father's shoulder and he sighed, relaxing back. But then he noticed how sick he felt. His whole body ached, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Sweat soaked through his clothes. Sam raised his head, his brow scrunched.
"What happened?" Sam moaned, shutting his eyes tightly against the headache.
"Well… you are sick for one thing. And ghosts are hunting hunters. We're back at Bobby's." John said, but Sam didn't recognize the room they were in. He slid from John's grasp and looked around the circular room, a giant Devil's Trap over the top, creating a shadow on the ground. Great iron walls rose up, salt rubbed into it.
"Bobby's house?" Sam inquired, turning in a circle. Dean was at his side, grabbing his arm when he stumbled. Sweat was pouring off of Sam, he pulled at his shirt, panting.
"It's his Panic Room. He built it while we were gone." Dean told him, pulling him to a nearby chair.
"Got it!" Bobby announced, sending a zap of pain through Sam's skull. John and Dean rushed to him, peering at the book he held.
"What is it?" Sam asked, struggling to his feet.
"The Rising of the Witnesses. It's a sign." Bobby's voice was grim.
"A sign to what?" John demanded.
"The Apocalypse." Bobby stated, his voice flat.
"You're kidding." Dean groaned. Bobby shook his head and sighed heavily.
"There is a spell to put them back to rest but we need an open fire and all the supplies aren't in here. Ya ready to fight boys?" Bobby asked, getting to his feet.
Sam followed the men out of the room. They hadn't even got to the stairs before they noticed the ghost. Her hair was long and blonde, her lips pulled up into a grim smirk.
"Sam and Dean Winchester. Long time no see…" she trailed off.
"Meg." Dean greeted.
"Yup… Megan Masters… taken by some demon slut." Her eyes lit with a fire, she spat at them. "And you all like to think that some demons can be good… news flash, they CAN'T!"
She swept at Sam, screaming, "Demon!" The ghost vanished as Bobby unloaded salt round into her. "Don't let em talk to ya." He scolded.
"Let's go! Hurry!" John urged.
/SW/
The fight had been intense, guns blasting, screaming, shouting, and chanting causing Sam's head to pound. He had screwed up… because amongst all the ghosts was one that he was completely unprepared for. Mary Winchester stood before him, she smiled softly. Blonde hair fell around her face and her pure white gown hugged her figure. Sam had never seen such a beautiful woman. Sam never got to see but a few old pictures of his mom, so he lowered his weapon, his eyes feasting on the woman who gave him life. He could hear the others shouting. Dean shouted something at Sam, but mom… she stepped closer but suddenly another ghost, Brady, was there, throwing Sam back. That wouldn't have been too bad of a thing if Sam hadn't crashed straight back into the roaring fireplace just as Bobby finished the incantation.
"Sam!" the cries echoed around the house. Sam was frozen. He was so cold. Bobby was suddenly in his vision, yanking him from the lapping flames. Dean was stripping him of his clothes. Sam's head hurt, he must have hit it. John was in front of him, his mouth moving rapidly. Sam shivered, his blood pulsed in his skull. The pain built in his skull and spread down. Then he felt it. His back was burning. He hissed, then tilted his head back, a wolf like howl leaving his lips. His vision dimmed but he didn't black out. He wished he had. Because he was back in Hell. He was surrounded by demons, the stench of burning flesh and blood in his nose. Where his father and Bobby once stood were grotesque demons, gnashing giant fangs at him. He snarled back, his own fangs piercing his lips.
"Sam!" that was Dean. He needed to find Dean. He was in Hell because of Sam. As the pain escalated, a song reached his ears. The haunting melody made his roars and cries stop. A wave of ice cold air drifted over Sam. His eyes opened and he was in Enver's home. Enver was still in his pristine suit but he was "wearing" Dean.
"Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. Baby, I've been here before I know this room, I walked this floor, I use to feel alone before I knew you.I've seen your flag on the Marble archLove is not a victory march.It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."
Sam watched him sing, he knew it wasn't Dean. He didn't sound like Dean. Dean never sounded so gentle. And Dean never looked at him like that. Too chick-flick. The blue eyes gazing at him as he sang. As Enver sang, Sam felt a cool breeze over his aching body. Enver reached out, and touched his hips, white emanating from his hands. Then all of Sam's pain was gone. His hunger, gone. His pain, gone. Enver shifted then, and Jessica was there. Sam felt at peace then. He let the voice drift over him, it didn't sound either male or female. But the words healed him. Sam shut his eyes, the song faded out and he could hear his families anxious voices above him, around him. Sam opened his eyes to find Dean right in front of him, green eyes searching his face. Dean's face scrunched in confusion.
"How did you do that?" Dean's voice trembled.
"Do what?" Sam asked.
/Sw/
Sam just STOOD there. He lowered His weapon and Dean wouldn't get there in time. Sam's glazed, red-rimmed eyes were locked on something only he could see. Then Brady was there, a sneer on his lips. Before Dean could do more than yell, Sammy's body was flying back into the fireplace. His head hit the back of the brick, blood splattering out. Bobby was there, yanking Sam out, but it was too late, Sam was on fire! Sam's body was shuddering in indescribable pain. Dean hissed, his hands burning as he yanked clothes off Sam's body. Sam's pants were burning to his skin, John was wrestling with them, and Sam was howling. Dean felt a sob break free of him, pulling Sam's several shirts off him. Small embers landed on Dean, the fire burning his jeans. With his shorts gone, Dean rushed to put out Sam's long brown locks, matted with blood and coal. Everyone was shouting, Dean knew he was as well.
"CASTIEL!" Dean cried out, but no angel appeared. Sam gave a shuttering gasp and went limp, his burnt, black and bleeding back slumping into Dean. "SAM!"
"Sammy!" John cried. Then a light flickered to life under Sam's skin. The white light bled out, of Sam's wounds and before their eyes, Sam's skin sealed over. Dean watched Sam's back become smooth and tan. Dean resisted withdrawing his hands as the light met his hands.
"Dean?" John asked hesitantly as the light crept up Dean's hands and healed Dean. Like crawling caterpillars, the light crawled along the floor then they were all healed. Sam was suddenly smiling, his eyes shut, a rumbling drew their attention. Sam was humming. Dean turned Sam till Sam was facing him and Dean watched astonished as Sam's whole body glowed a soft gold.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered, Sam opened his eyes. Soft baby blue eyes stared back at Dean but with a blink they were gone. Hazel eyes blinked into existence and Sam smiled widely.
"How did you do that?" Dean cursed his shaking voice.
"Do what?" Sam asked, his lips curled around small pointed canines. The vial in Dean's pocket seemed heavier, all of a sudden.
Authors note! hi guys i have a story bouncing around in my head and want to see what yall think about it! WARNING- SPOILERS FOR SEASON 14 FINALE!Sam opened his eyes. The sky above him was dark blue, almost twilight, a perfect sunset threw brilliant colors around. Stars were peering down, galaxies flickered in time to their own songs. Small fluffy clouds dotted the sky, the ground under him was warm but the air was perfect. The cool clean air filled his lungs and he let the air trail out between his lips. He sat up slowly, and nothing hurt. That was odd considering his body belonged to a hunter, it was common for hunters to ache often. Especially Sam Winchester, how long had it been since he didn't ache, burn, throb, or sting somewhere? He pulled himself to his feet, looking at his surroundings. He was on a stretch of road, the long winding dirt road was surrounded by sparse trees. He picked a direction and started walking. Sam's brain wasn't working right. He couldn't think of what he was supposed to be doing. Was he looking for someone? As he approached the end of the road after what felt like forever, he found himself looking at a Roadhouse. The wood structure reflected the neon lights. Harvelle's Roadhouse His brow furrowed at the image, he needed to go inside. Cars lined the parking lot, no where near parked neatly. A large black truck caught his attention. It was parked next to a bright yellow 1976 Gremlin, which seemed out of place here. He should be freaking out, he thinks, but all he feels is peace. As he approached the door, he hears an engine purring up the driveway. Sam turned, curious. "Yeah! You better wait for me! If you had waited back there then you wouldn't have had to walk." The driver of the sleek black car shouted out the window, whipping into a parking spot. Sam's face broke into a wide grin, as Dean pulled himself out of the Impala. "Dean. Where were you?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged. "Just because you were in a hurry, didn't mean I was." Sam was once again confused by this but turned back to the door. The door swung open and a grinning broad shouldered man held it open. "You boys going to sit out here all night?" the voice was right but the face was decades younger. But now that Sam thought about it… Dean's face had not a trace of age to it. "Dad." Dean smiled, rushing at their father. The man grasped Dean tightly, looking over his shoulder at Sam. John wiped his eyes, giving Sam such a look of pride that Sam's heart swelled and his eyes stung. "Dad." Sam's voice was a soft whisper, carrying with the wind. John pulled Sam close to him, the music and smells washing over Sam; Bon Jovi, familiar voices and the whisper of the trees, his brother babbling, his father's heartbeat, then the smell of beer, pine, car exhaust, leather, the sweet scent of perfume, sizzling food. Home. But something just felt wrong. As they stepped into the Roadhouse, Sam felt a sharp pain in his chest. He gasped out loud, the Roadhouse going silent as he dropped to his knees. Dean was holding his shoulders, bracing him as Sam began to cough. Blinding white sparks escaped his mouth. A flurry of activity around him drew his attention. He raised his head and took in the Roadhouse. It was glorious. Everything was how he remembered it. But the people….the people… they peered at him with concern. Some were on their knees around him. Others stood nearby. Jessica Moore was on his right, Dean behind him, Mary to his left. Kevin, Ash, Ellen, and Jo, Bobby, and Rufus. So many people. And he had loved them all. He didn't understand the pain he was going through but he now knew… he was in heaven. The thought crossed his mind only seconds before he was seeing it in his mind.The fight hadn't gone well. How could it? It was dark… it was always dark these days… the plants were dying off, and the animals were going extinct. Hell had risen on Chuck's command. Purgatory was blown open. The earth was overrun with the worse of the monsters. Sam and Dean had no choice but to fight. The four of them, Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack had fought with everything they had. With the help of Rowena, Billie and Donatello, Team Free Will closed all the gates. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and the Empty. Simultaneously, they had begun the trials of each, and they shut it all down. Sam took Hell, Dean took Purgatory, Cas took Heaven and Jack took the Empty. Each Gate called for their deaths at the end but of course… it was already the end, what did they have to lose? Sam and Dean had done the trails side-by-side, watching the other get sick from the strain. It had been hard. They were supposed to take care of each other, not watch the other waste away. Jack and Castiel weren't much better off, the angel and Nephilim probably died as well. As Sam delved deeper into his memories, he could see the reaper that had come to collect him. Billie had come, she had shook her head at his soul, the flayed, crumbling thing. She had turned with him in her hand, pulling Dean from his body as well. The bright soul of Heaven's chosen one, reached for Sam's mutilated one. Sam could see his body and Dean's, holding onto each other, entwined just as their souls were, the light of their souls throwing grim shadows along their cold corpses. Sam blinked, looking around, the Roadhouse. No time had passed, so it seemed. "I'm dead?" Dean cocked his head, a habit he picked up from Cas. "Yeah." Sam looked down at the tendrils of light that covered his hands. It was heavier and hotter than blood, in fact it was getting heavier. "What is this?" Dean reached to touch the substance, it got heavier the closer that Dean. Sam went to roll it off his hands, the liquid light sliding down his hand. "WAIT!" Sam jumped violently, clenching his hands. The owner of the voice threw the door of the Roadhouse open.