Howdy campers ! This site hates me, it's now five days I've been trying to update ! Ok that aside, firstly want to say a big thank you to those who did review. You guys keep me going with this little story of mine. You can all breathe a sigh of relief, the little rollercoaster is coming to an end soon, so you can all disembark :o)
Can't say much about this chapter other than I hope you all enjoy it.
Thanks again for sticking by me and my lame updates, you guys are my inspiration.
Chapter 17- One Last Time
Dean's eyes flickered open slowly, and as the small gap in the curtains allowed the sun light to slip through, the elder brother groaned in annoyance.
It was morning already.
Rolling over with a wide yawn, Dean ignored the sledge hammer that was at work in his head, that freaking headache that had been there last night was once again present, in fact lately, this headache felt ever present, omnipresent if at all possible.
Glancing over at the bedside table, two things surprised Dean.
The fact that the alarm clock wasn't showing the time was first thing that made Dean's nose wrinkle, which was then swiftly followed by a tired hand picking up half of an apple, which had proceeded to turn brown from air exposure. Dean studied the limp green leaf sitting in the middle and made a face.
Placing the apple back down on the bedside table, his eyes automatically moved to his wrist, and this time he sat up straight in the bed. His watch had been removed from his wrist.
Shoving the covers off, Dean swung his legs off the bed and suddenly looked down at the combats and t-shirt he'd obviously slept in; he always changed before he went to bed, even when pissed out his head, he still managed to change his clothes. Fair go, it wasn't always the best items of clothing he chose to wear, remembering the time where he'd put on a shirt and tie and clambered into bed with his bottom half naked.
Dean grinned as he stood up, the look on Sam's face that morning when he'd finally staggered from bed. That boy's face had been priceless. In fact, Dean remembered quite a few times he'd end up wearing some of Sam's clothes, which again always led to one of Sam's infamous deadpan looks which he'd seemed to master by the age of three.
Standing up, Dean looked down at the salt that sat around his bed, stepping over the line, his eyes grew a little wide as he spotted two pink candles sitting at the foot of the bed, on closer inspection, Dean discovered two more at the top of the bed, and a couple more weird mouldy apple and limp green leaf combinations around the room.
This had to be Sam's doing.
Heading towards the entrance of his bedroom and ignoring again the salt line and mouldy apple leaf combo, Dean padded into the living room and was surprised to find that he now was the owner of a veranda door, with glass and everything.
Dean scratched his head in confusion.
" Exactly how long was I asleep for..?" Dean muttered as he walked around the living room heading for the veranda's sliding door to inspect the handy work.
It was then his eyes fell on the clock on the wall and his mouth dropped open.
" Holy freaking crap...!" Dean gasped.
It was almost 3pm, even after a heavy night of alcohol and women he'd never stayed in bed this long.
" Hey..?" Sam said his poking around the kitchen, making Dean jump.
" Dude, you scared me, stop sneaking around..!" Dean said sitting down on the sofa, " And exactly what did you do to me, so I didn't even hear the handy man come in here to fix the glass..?"
" Nothing.." Sam said managing a tired smile for Dean, " How are you anyway..?"
" Fine..." Dean said with a funny look on his face, " Shouldn't I be..?"
" No, no of course not, I'm just a little worried that's all.." Sam admitted, " I'm making some lunch, why don't you grab a shower and stuff..."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he studied his overly tall little brother. Dean didn't like worried Sam, or nervous Sam, both reminded him over an over active hen, that was in desperate need to cluck, and Sam loved to cluck over Dean. Dean hated clucking, therefore hated worried and nervous Sam.
" Ok, so how much...?" Dean ventured as he crossed the living room and headed for the small kitchen, which Sam had quietly retreated into.
" How much for food, not a lot.." Sam admitted, " I think it's best if we stay in as much as possible from now on, at least until I can figure out exactly what's going on, it'll be safer..."
" Dude..?" Dean demanded as he finally managed to catch Sam's eyes, " A little help here people..?"
" I just think it'll be safer..." Sam said with a sigh, " You look better, more rested..."
" Man, stop this...!" Dean said slapping Sam in the chest as he stomped around the tiny kitchen, " You sound crazy Sam, who will be safer...?"
Dean paused and suddenly turned on his heel and looked at Sam, " The salt and mouldy apples, and the girly candles..?" Dean questioned, " I get the salt, spirits can't cross it.."
" The apples and the candles were for protection..." Sam explained, " It was quickest thing I could think of..."
" Protection from what..?" Dean demanded, " Sammy what the heck is going on..?"
Sam's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms across his chest.
" What do you remember about last night..?" Sam asked slowly, " And think, and I mean really, really think before you answer..."
Dean opened his mouth to retaliate at Sam but he then paused and saw the clucking look of worry in Sam's face.
" Have a shower and think about it..." Sam said abruptly as he turned back to the salad he was making, " We'll have lunch and then we'll talk about everything.."
Dean nodded numbly and headed back into his room, being careful about where he was treading. He stood there, his hand on his draw and slowly took in the all the salt lines, the still burning candles and the mouldy apple leaf thing.
The amount of protection Sam had used suddenly frightened him.
And it took a lot to frighten Dean...
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Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror, his toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth, his lips white with toothpaste.
Sighing, he closed the toilet seat and sat down on it, slowly closing his eyes.
Something had rattled his clucking younger brother out there, and the combination of the nervous clucking and the major set of protection mojo that had encircled him as he slept; indicated that something pretty major must have gone down last night.
...What on earth has happened, I mean Sam's totally wired, making some girly salad, giving me those worried eyes and making some serious clucking noises out there...Maybe I've hit my head and I've forgotten what went down last night...
On that idea, Dean begun to search his head for new bumps, and lumps. His head felt fine, well as fine as any Winchester head could feel considering there profession.
Sam was looking at him differently, nervously, worriedly, almost as if he didn't want to talk about something, but was obviously desperate for Dean to work it out himself.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.
Dean jumped off the toilet seat and went towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle. Yet he froze, he couldn't open it, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten he'd told Sam.
Dean spat the toothpaste out his mouth and rinsed, he turned the shower on, drowning the bathroom in noise, but the elder Winchester sat down again on the toilet.
He couldn't remember everything, just the fact that Sam knew. Sam knew about the lies, about dad and about...
Dean suddenly sat up straight on the seat.
Where did the protection stuff come into play with his confession of being a lying, scumbag..? Dean didn't need protection, what Dean needed was a damn good kicking.
Sitting silently on the toilet, Dean suddenly felt scared, embarrassed and actually felt worried about what Sam was thinking. He couldn't remember all of Sam's reaction last night, but if it was half of what he had imagined it would have been like, it was probably pretty bad.
Maybe Sam was out there not making them lunch but actually poisoning his food, so Sam could watch him die slowly and painfully; the way Dean deserved to die.
Peeling off his clothes, Dean stepped into the shower, the hot water welcoming on his body. He stood under the shower head allowing the water to beat down on his skin, the pulse of the water massaging his aching body.
Sam was supposed to be angry, very angry.
That's what Dean had expected when Sam had found out. He'd expected a pissed off Sam; after all, Sam had every right to be pissed off.
But he wasn't.
Sam wasn't pissed off.
Dean reached for the shower gel and poured some into his hand and stood watching the water as it hit his palm.
Sam was making lunch outside, had seemed concerned about Dean's welfare, his state of mind this morning. Sam had encircled him in protection mojo last night.
Dean knew Sam.
Sam would be pissed at him, very pissed.
Not outside making a salad and telling him to take a shower and think about everything.
Dean watched as the last of the shower gel washed out the palm of his hand.
Dean Winchester was slowly coming to a conclusion that he didn't like one little bit.
That thing out there making lunch.
That wasn't his little brother...
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Sam smiled warmly as he watched as Dean padded out the bathroom quickly and disappear into his bedroom closing the door.
Sam made a face at the door and after a second or so of waiting, headed straight for the closed door.
" Dean..?" Sam called knocking lightly on the door, " You ok..?"
" Sure Sam..." Dean called out, " Out in a second, just changing..."
Sam shrugged, walked away from the door and headed back into the kitchen where he'd been making a salad to go with the fajitas he'd already made.
Opening the fridge, he pulled out the litre bottle of ice-tea that had been cooling and poured into the plastic blue pitcher, which had already been filled with ice and slices of lemon and lime.
This was going to be a nice lunch.
Just two brothers, enjoying something to eat, on a vacation in the sunshine state.
No mention of lies, betrayal, nothing like that.
After all, as Sam had been chanting to himself all morning, this wasn't Dean's fault.
This wasn't Dean's fault.
None of this was Dean's fault.
Something had managed to get into Dean's mind; something was messing with Dean's perception, playing on Dean's most vulnerable weaknesses.
That something was that freaking red eyed spirit thing that Sam had spotted staring at him through the mirror several days ago. He should have trusted his instincts then and there, and not listened to Dean. He shouldn't have gone to the friggin circus which had only managed to reinforce how much he hated clowns; he should have stayed and done the research, started looking into what this spirit was about.
Sam shook his head in annoyance, he should have figured out that something was wrong the moment Dean had decided not to believe him over the attack by the evil looking Dean.
Sam made a face as he balanced two glasses on the tray, he still hadn't quite figured out how he'd seen Dean attack him, but he knew it was connected to whatever was controlling Dean's thinking process, and whatever had been behind him feeling so damn crap the last few days.
No, not crap. Helpless, useless, unable to think clearly, hearing awful thoughts, thoughts he usually just buried to the back of his mind.
Then there was the fever and the stab wound.
In his shock over the confession last night, Sam hadn't found the time to tell Dean what he'd discovered. Not only had his fever vanished, but so had his slash wound.
He'd stood in the shower that very morning and examined where the wound should have been, and there wasn't even a scratch there, let alone a tell tale scar.
It had all vanished.
Conveniently vanished.
Nothing that easy happened to the Winchesters, there was a reason behind everything and by God, with his mind now thinking clearly in the first time in weeks, Sam was damn sure he was gonna figure it out.
Every last friggin piece of the puzzle.
Sam watched as Dean quietly trotted out the bedroom and begun to walk towards him.
First things first.
Protect Dean.
Then kill the evil red eyed spirit...
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Dean felt the knife he'd placed in his jeans pocket cold against his skin. He felt ashamed to actually have a knife on his body for protection against his own brother.
Sam would never hurt him.
But as Dean forced a smile to his face, he was beginning to believe more and more that this wasn't Sam standing in front of him.
He knew Sam, he knew Sam better than he knew himself.
Sam would be spitting mad at him for lying, would have thrown a massive tantrum and be giving him the cold shoulder for at least the next week or so. Then the nit-picking would follow, causing an argument between them every five minutes, and then maybe after a week or so of putting Dean through hell, things would die down and they'd be ok.
That's how Dean knew Sam.
He'd been with Sam from the moment he'd been born, and while he'd wondered off for a few years to Stanford, it was still the same stubborn assed Sam.
That's why Dean knew that this, thing, standing in the kitchen making some cliché salad, sending him unrealistic reassuring smiles, wasn't his baby brother.
It was Sam in every form, the smile, the eyes, the shaggy brown hair, but Dean was convinced that inwardly Sam was probably fighting for his life, trapped inside with this evil spirit.
Dean snuck a look over at Sam who was rooting around in the fridge. He wondered how long the spirit had been inside of Sam, if his little brother was still alive or not.
No his Sam had to be alive.
The question was how to get the spirit out of Sam, without hurting his little brother in the process. Dean knew Sam was still fragile from everything that had taken place in the last few days; but had that all been an act..?
The whole slice and dice with the evil Dean, the fever and the remarkable recovery that had followed. Being led to a hospital that oh so conveniently happened to have Dr. Wallis waiting in the wings.
It just a little too coincidental for Dean.
Dean needed answers, he needed solutions and most importantly he needed help. He felt his stomach churn inside, man, did he wish his father was here instead of half way to wherever the hell it was his old man was going.
He needed John now more than anything.
It was bad enough that he'd been led a merry dance by this spirit, that he'd been manipulated, but now Sam was in grave danger, and Dean didn't know how to save him.
That was a first.
Not knowing what they were up against, not knowing what the lore was to kill the thing, not knowing how strong it was and what it could do, but worst of the lot, not knowing what the hell it was.
There was always a first time for everything; it was sods friggin law that, this, would happen to be one of those friggin firsts.
Dean watched as Sam sent him yet another nervous smile, and hurried past him carrying the tray with drinks and glasses. Watching as Sam shuffled past and disappeared onto the deck, Dean's mouth dropped open.
Sam was walking perfectly fine, not hunched over, or cradling his injured side like he should have done.
Dean hurried outside and he saw Sam look up him at him, clearly startled.
" Dean you shouldn't come out here yet..." Sam insisted, " It's not safe.."
" Well what were you gonna do, leave the door open and I eat on the other side..?" Dean teased forcing a smile to his face.
" That's exactly what I was planning to do..." Sam said pointing back to the inside of the apartment, " Now go wait inside there, while I move the table around..."
" You're gonna need help moving it Sam..." Dean said pointedly as he stood in the hot sunshine, his body aching for the sun light and warmth.
" Dean it's plastic furniture, it's not like it's heavy.." Sam said with a grin, " Now stop stalling, and go and wait inside.."
" It's still heavy, considering you've been stabbed..." Dean said pointedly, as he considered Sam's reaction.
" It's funny you should mention that..." Sam said shielding his eyes from the sun as he raised up to his full height and looked at Dean, " It looks like it's not only the fever I caught a break from, the wounds totally gone..."
" Gone..?" Dean said unable to hide his shock, " As in it's totally healed itself..?"
" No, as in there's not even a scratch, like, well.." Sam whispered as he looked apprehensively at Dean, " It's like it's just been removed..."
" Removed huh..?" Dean said with a dry chuckle, " Sounds, a bit, convenient…"
" That's what I was thinking…" Sam said with an enthusiastic nod, " Anyway, why look a gift horse in the mouth, lets eat…"
Dean watched as Sam begun dragging the table towards the sliding door.
He knew he had to act quick.
" Dude, you don't expect us to drink ice-tea do you..?" Dean said with a snort, " Do I look like I'm cracking forty plus here...?"
Sam paused with the table half turned, he sent his brother a crooked smile, " Weren't you the one who bought it..?"
Dean looked truly horrified, " Don't be stupid Sam, next thing you're gonna tell me is that men and women can be just friends..."
Sam opened his mouth to reply and then shut it back. There was just no point baiting a response from Dean.
" Good, I'll get us some real drinks..." Dean said picking up the pitchers and holding it at arms length like a foul smelling object, Dean disappeared from Sam's sight.
Sam watched as Dean disappeared, his brother's odd behaviour baffling him.
Sometimes, Sam just didn't get his big brother...
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Dean Winchester quickly tossed a nervous look behind him, making sure that Sam hadn't followed him in.
Hurriedly, he dumped the contents of the ice tea down the sink and opened the fridge and stood staring at the contents. He looked at the bottles of beer.
As much as he could have done with one, Dean decided against it.
The elder Winchester made a face at his own thought process; things must be getting desperate if he was passing up the opportunity to have a bottle of beer.
But saving Sam, that always came above everything else; beer included.
Grabbing a bottle of soda from the fridge, Dean quickly glanced over towards the open deck, checking to make sure that Sam wasn't coming.
" Sorry Sammy..." Dean whispered as he poured out two glasses of soda. Grabbing the bottle he shoved it back in the fridge and once again he glanced around to make sure Sam was still not inside the apartment.
Silently he opened the cupboard door above his head and took out a tablet container. He stared at the tablets. He knew inwardly that they were doing something to Sam, just what he didn't know.
Sometimes he was convinced that the tablets were saving Sam.
Other times, when the voices stopped talking, he realised that there was a possibility that these were the very things that were making Sam ill.
But he'd lost track of his thinking process days ago.
All Dean Winchester knew was that his little brother should be hating him and he wasn't.
Sam was being kind and understanding and being, well, a great little brother.
That's why Dean knew that Sam wasn't himself that something was messing with them.
Evil had got to Sam.
Dean had failed his little brother.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut as the voice thundered through his head.
" You stood back and watched Sam being taken over by evil. You dropped your guard, and allowed him to be taken. He'll die because of you..."
" I have to fix this..." Dean whispered as he scrubbed his tired face with his hands, his eyes staring at the container that sat beside the drinks.
" There is a chance to save him though, you can get the spirit out of him, there's a ritual Dean, all you have to do is find it in the book..."
Dean raised his head up.
That wasn't a bad plan.
If he could get rid of the thing inside of Sam then Sam would be ok, well he should be, if we wasn't dead that is. But how on earth would he trick that Sam out there to cooperate with him on a freaking exorcism..?
" You know exactly how to do it Dean..."
Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. He hated what he was doing god, he hated it. He was betraying Sam again, after everything he had told him last night, promised his little brother, here he was again, betraying him.
Dean's head suddenly snapped up as he stood straight, realisation sending a cold shiver down his spine.
That wasn't Sam he'd been talking to last night. That had to be the evil Sam. That wasn't even his Sam, just an evil, wicked version that had allowed him to pour his heart out, and the person who had needed to hear what was being said wasn't even listening.
Dean's anger grew instantaneously.
He wanted this thing dead.
Now.
Without flinching, Dean glanced around one final time to make sure Sam wasn't coming. Slipping two capsules out of the container, Dean studied them in his palm. Usually he only put one in Sam's stuff and it would knock the kid out for several hours. But if he was going to get this exorcism going, he would need as much time as possible.
Without a second thought, Dean pinched the capsules apart and tapped the white powder into Sam's soda. As always, he tossed the empty capsules down the sink and ran the tap, watching the remnants disappear down the sink hole.
Dean closed his eyes as he took a tea spoon and stirred Sam's soda.
It was done.
Everything was in place...
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Sam Winchester's mouth dropped open wide.
He could barely believe what he'd just seen.
He'd knew that Dean was behaving weird, the crack about the ice-tea being for forty year olds, was weak, even for Dean.
Sam sunk into one of the chairs, his head resting in his shaking hands, his breathing sporadic, his heart threatening to hammer out of his chest.
It wasn't the spirit who had been making him sick the whole time.
It had been Dean.
Dean had been the one who'd been poisoning him the whole time...
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Just when you think things were looking up for the boys eh..? Hope you're all still enjoying it. If you get a chance please drop me a line….