Huge squishy hugs to Gredelina1 for the beta job and SandraEngstrom2 for helping me get the ideas down.
A word of warning: The End.
I outlined the rest of the story Wednesday and now I know exactly where I am going. It's not to a sunshine and unicorns place. I have what I believe is a happy ending planned, but it might not seem that way for everyone. If you're looking for a comfortable, traditional HEA, it's not going to be found here. Sorry. I thought it was better to warn you ahead so you don't get more invested in something that'll disappoint. Note 08/02/2016 — Ending has been changed. Maybe not sunshine and unicorns at first, but it'll have a HEA
Chapter Nine
Dean suspected Sam could have gone a few more rounds on the Amara discussion, but when it drew to a close he seemed to sag, exhausted where he sat. His eyes were distant, and Dean had to say his name twice before he could get his attention.
"What?" Sam asked blearily.
"We've got to get food in you before you crash," Dean said. "Okay?"
Sam nodded and rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah. I know. I just…"
"You're still exhausted," Dean said. "You will be. You're healing." Physically from a couple dozen slashes front and back. Mentally from twenty years of Lucifer and the Cage. Yeah, Sam needed rest. "I'll go get us some food and then you can crash again."
As much as Dean wanted to get him back to the bunker where he could rest and heal in peace, he thought Castiel should have another attempt at clearing up the wounds before then. A two day drive wasn't fun at the best of times, but sore and itchy would make it Hell. Again.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked.
"Whatever," Sam said vaguely.
Dean frowned. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Dean could tell he was lying because he knew his brother, but he figured he was just sucking it up and getting on with it when what he really wanted was sleep and a few years peace to get over what had happened. Dean couldn't deliver the years of peace, but he could feed him and let him sleep.
"Want anything, Cas?" Dean asked.
"No, thank you."
"Molecules, right, Cas?" Sam said with a smile.
Dean frowned then shrugged it off, figuring it was some weird-ass science joke he wouldn't find funny even if he did get it. He pulled on his jacket and with a wave of the hand exited the motel.
It felt wrong as soon as the door closed behind him. As if he'd left something vital behind in that room. A voice whispered in his mind, his own, worried, voice, "Are you seriously going to leave him alone?"
He shook his head briskly. Sam would be fine. Castiel was with him. Nothing was going to happen. Last time was different. Sam wasn't going to leave the room in the short amount of time Dean would be gone, he wasn't going to do anything more strenuous than sit his ass down on that bed and talk to Castiel. Dean put one foot in front of the other and kept moving away from the motel.
While Sam was in the bathroom and they'd been talking about their next step, Castiel had told him there was a diner near the drug store he'd visited, so he directed his path in that direction. It was early evening again, a full day since Amara had found him by the lake. People were walking home from work, and when he found the diner, it was busy.
Dean went in and made for the counter. There was a tri-fold plastic menu that he picked up and perused. Sam had said whatever, and that usually meant some form of whatever rabbit food was on offer, but Dean thought maybe they should go a little easy on his stomach. It had been two decades between snacks after all.
"Can I help you?" a voice asked.
Dean looked up. There was a woman waiting patiently for his order with a notepad in hand. She looked to be a few years younger than Dean, blonde hair and full lips, and she was wearing a cute pink uniform. On any other day Dean would have made it a mission to talk, flirt, make a move even, but it wasn't any other day.
"Can I get a bacon-cheeseburger and fries, and a chicken noodle soup to go, please?"
She beamed at him. "Sure." She handed a sheet of her pad through the service window and came back to stand in front of him. "Chicken noodle soup and a cheeseburger? That's an interesting combination."
"It's for my brother," Dean said. "He's been sick."
"Poor guy. Nothing serious, I hope."
"It was," Dean said honestly. "But he's turned a corner. He'll be fine now."
She smiled. "I'm glad."
A man in a grey business suit came to the counter and the waitress left Dean to serve him. Dean looked around the diner, no different to any of the countless ones he had been in over the course of his life, and wondered why this one felt different. Was it just the fact he wanted to be back at the motel with Sam already, or were his hunter senses picking up something else? He couldn't be sure, and he waited impatiently for his order so he could get out of there to work it out.
After what seemed like an inordinately long time, his order arrived. He paid and carried it out, relieved to be in motion again.
He got a hundred yards from the diner when he felt it: a hum in the air like distant music. He looked up and down the street for a sign of her. He couldn't see her, but he was sure she was there.
"Amara?" he said.
"Hello, Dean."
He spun on his heel. She was standing behind him, though she hadn't been there a second ago, not visibly at least.
"You follow me around often?" he asked.
"You know I don't. You would feel me if I did. You and I are—"
"Connected, yeah," Dean said briskly. "I remember. Do you need something?" The idea occurred to him that she could be there to collect as Sam seemed so certain she would.
She frowned. "How fast you change. You were very pleased to see me before. And before that"—she leaned in close—"you were more than happy to be with me."
"I'm sorry," Dean said automatically. "I just want to get back to Sam."
"Yes. Family," she said in a musing voice. "That is why I sought you out. I was curious about him."
"He's fine," Dean said. "He'll be fine."
"I'm glad," she said smoothly.
Dean cleared his throat. "Thank you, Amara, for helping us, for getting him out."
She smiled widely, seeming genuinely pleased at his thanks. "I will always help you."
"Uh, thanks," Dean said again awkwardly. "Look, I really have got to get back to him. He's okay, but he needs food."
She nodded and leaned in close. For a moment, Dean thought she was going to kiss him again, and he was trying to decide how he'd react to that, but then she whispered. "I will see you soon, Dean."
Dean blinked. "Yeah… Sure…" She was already gone.
They set out for home the next morning. Castiel had another attempt at healing Sam before they left, this time managing to turn the smaller cuts to red scars and to shrink the larger ones down.
Sam and Castiel took turns in the back seat, swapping when Sam wanted to stretch out and sleep a while, and Dean drove. He was usually happy when behind the wheel of his baby, eating up the miles, and Sam's return should have made him delirious, but he wasn't. He was discomfited by what he was hiding from his brother and his friend—Amara's visit. He knew it was a bad idea to keep it a secret, and the longer he did the worse the reaction was going to be when he came clean, but things were going well now; Sam seemed happy considering what he had been through and Castiel was as he usually was as far as happiness went. He just wanted to enjoy it a bit longer before it all went to hell again. He wanted just a little more peace.
The opportunity for something good came up at the end of their first day on the road. They were on the Indiana border and Sam was asleep in the back seat when they came to a forested spot.
"Hey, Sam," Dean said gently.
Sam stirred. "Yeah?"
"Starry night."
He glanced into the rear-view mirror in time to see Sam's smile. "Yeah. It is."
"What do you think, Cas?" Dean asked.
Castiel peered out of the windshield. "I think it is a starry night."
Sam laughed. "Let's do it."
Ignoring the confused angel at his side, Dean took a turn off onto a dirt track. They drove a mile or so before coming to a clearing about the size of a baseball diamond. It was perfect. There was no artificial light and no couples parking—that happened more often than Dean wished.
Dean was out of the car and at the trunk to get the cooler before Sam had even got his door open. He made his way over to the front of the car and leaned against the hood. Looking like he'd finally caught up, Castiel moved to stand beside him.
Dean handed Sam a beer and offered one to Castiel who refused with a wry smile. Dean took his own and stood the other side of Sam. Without a word, Sam and Dean raised their eyes to the sky, and each let out a soft sigh. It was magnificent. The stars were strewn as far as they could see, creating a perfect blanket of light.
Castiel glanced up too and said. "It is very beautiful."
"This is usually quiet time, Cas," Dean said pointedly.
"Yes," Castiel said, looking around. "I guess it is very quiet to you both."
Sam huffed a laugh at the look of frustration on Dean's face. "I guess it isn't to you, though," he said, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. "You've got to hear everything, angelic hearing and all."
"Yes," Castiel said. "Though angel radio is quieter now, there is still so much noise in the world."
Dean sighed. This was not going to be the quiet night of contemplation it usually was when it was just him and Sam there.
Sam nodded thoughtfully, then his eyes became distant and he frowned. "I missed this, you know."
"Yeah, it's been a while," Dean said.
"No, I mean all of it. Air that doesn't stink like sulfur. Feeling the temperature change instead of just being freezing all the time. Seeing something apart from him."
It was the most Sam had spoken about his experiences of Hell since his sleepless ramblings what felt like a lifetime ago. Dean had asked both the soulless version of his brother and the true version if they wanted to talk back then, and neither had wanted to. There had been nothing to say. Sam was talking now though, and Dean listened.
"You forget after a while what things are like. You remember the big things, like people that matter, but little stuff like the way things feel outside of pain, that slips away. You start to slip away."
Dean nodded and swallowed hard. He remembered fearing he would lose Sam to Hell, despite the fact he was determined to get him back, by his soul becoming too damaged. The mention of slipping away was frightening.
"Then you're back," Sam went on. "And everything's overwhelming and real again, and it's the most…"
Terrifying and wonderful thing, Dean thought. He remembered that feeling, too.
"It's good," Sam said lamely. "Better. It's just, sometimes, to wrap your mind around it… it takes a lot." He smiled. "I will though."
"You will," Dean said, bumping his shoulder.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I will. This helps. It's real." He drew a breath and stared up at the sky again.
Sam still had moments of unreality when he woke up. He didn't always immediately know where he was. It only lasted a moment, a thrill of fear before the sound of the Impala rumbling beneath him or Dean's voice helped him snap out of his panic into the present. He supposed it would take a while for him to get used to being out and free again.
The morning after they arrived back at the bunker, Sam woke to see Dean standing in the doorway to his room. "Hey," Dean said easily, obviously unaware of Sam's moment of panic. "You hungry? We've got bacon."
Sam's stomach growled in response. "Yeah," he sounded surprised, "actually, I am."
Dean grinned. "Then get your ass up and dressed."
"Be right there."
Dean's footsteps disappeared along the hall and Sam climbed out of bed. He grabbed clean clothes and wandered into the bathroom. There was a large mirror over the basin and he glanced into it automatically as he splashed water over his face. He wished he hadn't. The wounds left by Lucifer were almost healed now, but they had scarred deeply in their swirling and twisting patterns. His skin was a canvas of Lucifer's art.
"I wish I could do more," a voice said regretfully from the door. "I cannot remove the scarring."
Sam turned. Castiel was standing there, his brow creased and his eyes sad.
"It's okay, Cas," Sam said quickly. "It's hardly like they're the only scars I've got."
"They're different though?"
"Yeah," Sam admitted. "I guess they are." He frowned. "I'm not complaining, it's okay, you know, but why can't you heal them? It's never been a problem before."
"Because they are Lucifer's wounds made by Lucifer's grace. The blade he used was a manifestation of his grace, and that's why I am struggling to heal them. It's been hard to do as much as I have."
"Then stop," Sam said quickly. "It's not like they're really a problem now." They didn't hurt exactly; they were more annoying and upsetting to look at than anything.
Castiel shook his head. "I cannot. They will not heal alone, Sam. Only an angel's grace can heal wounds made by another's like that. Lucifer's is naturally more potent than mine, so it will take time, but I will heal all your wounds eventually, if not the scars."
"Thanks, Cas. I owe you."
"No," Castiel argued. "There is no debt between us."
Sam smiled. "Thank you"
"I will leave you to finish," Castiel said and turned to leave, but Sam called after him. "Yes?" he said, forming the word as a question.
"I need to ask you something," Sam said. "And I don't want to sound like a dick, but I need you to be honest with me, even if it means betraying Dean."
Castiel frowned, but didn't speak so Sam went on.
"Amara. You said Dean didn't make a deal to get me out. I need to know that's the truth and not Dean hiding stuff from me for my 'own good'."
Castiel looked relieved. "No, Sam. I can tell you without betraying anyone anything that as much as I know, Dean didn't make a deal. Amara seemed to ask for nothing in return. She seemed almost… happy to help. The fact she didn't kill me on sight lends credence to that belief."
"Why would she kill you? What did you do?" Sam asked.
"Me, nothing, but my brothers and sisters have earned her ire by attempting to smite her."
Sam's eyebrows rose. "Wow. I guess there's a lot I missed."
"Yes," Castiel said. "There is."
Sam's heart seemed to sink. It wasn't like he'd been expecting to come out of the cage into a world populated with bunnies and unicorns, but he'd hoped that at least there would be a little chance to rest. He should have known better.
"Okay," he said bracingly. "Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll be up so we can talk."
Castiel turned and left. Sam waited until he was sure he was out of earshot then he fixed his eyes on his face in the mirror. "You can do this," he said forcefully.
In response there was laughter in his mind.
His reflected face drained of all color.
"No," Sam said firmly. "This is not happening." It couldn't be. He couldn't do this again. He was out, dammit! He had not dragged that bastard with him.
"Oh, really?" Lucifer's amused voice said.
Sam clasped his hands and pressed down hard on the scar on his palm.
Lucifer laughed again. "Not a hallucination, Sammy. I am in your grapefruit. For real. I'm here. Isn't it nice? Haven't you missed me?"
Sam squeezed his eyes closed. He was not going to engage. He wouldn't encourage.
"I think this conversation would go a little better face to face."
Sam felt a pain in his temple, as if he was being speared by something dull but powerful, and then he was there, In the cage. The air was cold. The smell of sulfur was intense in his nose. And Lucifer was standing close to him, looking into his eyes.
"No! No, no, no!" Sam shouted. "I'm out! I got out!"
"Yes," Lucifer said patiently. "Once again, Saint Dean came to the rescue with an ill-advised deal and saved you. Good for him. Lucky for me, he didn't close the door right on the way out. Actually couldn't. Either way, I still have this juicy method of communication with you."
Sam stepped back until he was pressed against the bars. "Let me go."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? Let you go? Sam, this is the most fun I've had in the longest time. This is even better than having you in here with me. You get to live your crappy life, never knowing when I am going to yank you in here for a chat. I am going to break you."
When was he going to be done being punished? It wasn't fair. He'd got through Hell for the second time intact, or so he'd thought. He hadn't broken and faded out the way every cell of him had yearned to. Why did he have to suffer this slow, painful fate again?
He felt a surge of anger sweep through him. This was wrong. It wasn't fair. "Fuck you!" he snarled, stepping away from the bars and walking toward Lucifer.
"What did you say to me?"
"Fuck you! I am done with this crap." The anger buoyed him, strengthened him, and he knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and spoke through his teeth. "I am not staying here."
"You think you can just click your heels together three times and be home?" Lucifer scoffed. "Fine, I'll let you go, but you're coming back, Sammy. Just as soon as…"
The air warmed and the smell of sulfur disappeared. Sam opened his eyes to the bathroom. He was facing the mirror still, and his reflection stared back at him, tears drying on his cheeks.
He couldn't this again; he couldn't spend a life questioning what was real and what wasn't. He couldn't suffer through until he was in a locked ward again and preparing to die. He couldn't do that to Dean. He knew what he had to do.
He splashed water on his face and went back into the bedroom. He had to act fast, or Dean was going to know something was up and stop him. He grabbed his duffel from the dresser and dumped it on the bed, snatching clothes from drawers and stuffing them inside it. He would go to Rufus' cabin maybe, regroup and then set out on the road. He could find somewhere alone where he wouldn't know anyone. No one he loved would see him descending into madness and death. He would… make the same mistake he'd been making for years; he would lie to Dean.
He stopped dead with a pair of jeans in one hand and a shirt in the other. The thought came out of nowhere, but it was right. He'd said it himself. Back in that hospital, when Dean had been arguing for shooting their way out, Sam had said they had to change to stop all their crap repeating. They had to change their thinking as well.
It was as if a fog had cleared in his mind. This was what Lucifer would want—Sam alone without anyone to ground him in reality. How fast would he slip without someone there reminding him of what was real and what was false? And Dean… What would he do when he found Sam gone? Chalk it up to Sam's choice and leave it? Of course not. He would do whatever it took to find him, whatever it took.
Sam was stupid. How could he have even thought this was a possibility?
He dropped his duffel down onto the bed and walked out of the room without a backward glance. He strode along the halls as fast as he could, wanting to act before the stupid idea started to make sense again.
The smell of bacon reached him at the same time as Dean's voice, "I'll give him another minute and then go check. Last thing Sammy needs is to feel like an invalid right now. Believe me."
Sam walked into the kitchen and Dean looked up, his smile fading as he got a good look at him. "Hey, Sammy. What took you… What happened?" His tone became intense.
Sam sat down heavily in a chair beside Castiel and looked Dean in the eye. "We need to talk."
So… Luci is back! *happy dances*
Until next time… (hopefully)
Clowns or Midgets xxx