One-shot (Part 2)
Bang!
And there goes Dean, with his head, flying across the room. His head (again) and the opposite wall certainly exchanged greetings. Ouch, he thought; his brain was throbbing endlessly against the skin of his temples.
"Bet you liked hitting me, Dean… bet it felt all cool and natural to you. Oh wait a minute, what was it I said before you hit me?" Sam was closing in on Dean fast, and Dean really didn't like it. Feeling the threat, Dean was trying to cower back in defence rather than offence. "I said that you were always the best so long as you're fighting behind a machine…" hissed Sam, now kicking Dean, who wasn't fast enough in his escape, in the genitals.
Dean wailed in agony, forgetting his previously insane migraine for another, more torturous wound. Dean pleaded, "I'm sorry Sammy, really, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to… Augh! Sammy stop, please, dude this isn't right… Ugh! We shouldn't be beating up each other… Augh! WATCH it man! We gotta look out for each other since Dad ain't coming back!"
At this, Sam stopped, and for a moment, seemed to hesitate… Dean used the opportunity to run out to the back yard and hide behind a tree, since it sure ain't a good idea to stay in the house, and a worse one to face the outside world with mish-mashed sperm.
Sam stood there a little, contemplating on the phrase "Dad ain't coming back".
Samuel, the Daddy he's talking about isn't worth all the confusion you're getting now… he was responsible for all the feelings. He was responsible for all the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the ugly visions. He was responsible for the void between you and Dean, he was responsible for your incapability of facing the outside world.
He was responsible for you being introvert and private. He was responsible for you being just as you are right now: a walking broken heart, confused, pained and looking for a cure to start the healing process. But that's just it Sam – he "was"… and he isn't there any more. But you know that his death isn't enough; he and Dean both have to pay for what they did…
Sam headed out to the back yard. He did make sure he had a knife in his hand, though – come one, some weapon is always necessary in interrogations. Especially when the interogat-ee, your brother, is a damn good fighter when he has something in his hands. And you know the back yard is full of things.
Dean hasn't quite gotten over the throbbing soreness which lies just above his knees and just below his waist. Quick, look for something, he's heading here… he thought. He grabbed a sharp, thick bark which lay on the ground below him. For the first time since his mother died, he started praying, Oh God, if you're there, stop this, and he continued glaring at the dark and heavy night-sky above him.
Sam was now in front of him…
"Auuugghh!" Dean howled in torment. There was now a large, and extending, gash in his right leg. Blood, enraged and infuriated, flew out of the gash in quick, heavy spurts. Sam twisted the knife ruthlessly in its resting place, and Dean growled out further.
"Oh look, the moon indeed doesn't lie – you're blood is purple," smiled Sam as his voice sing-songed the phrase, "but I bet you feel real bad…and I bet you wish you could DIE"… Sam started sobbing heavily, but that didn't deter his hand from twisting the knife in Dean's leg.
"I'll sure drag you down with me…", hissed Dean back in livid shakiness.
"But why? Why did you and Dad do what you did? Why didn't you include me, why did you leave me out in the dark?" Fuelled by his anguish now, Sam dug the knife deeper, much to Dean's torture. "Why did she have to die?" Sam was sobbing uncontrollably, so much so that his words were rather incoherent… "Why wasn't he there?"
"Dude… really, I don't know what you're talking about…" Dean appealed. Sam, getting an answer he wasn't looking for, wrenched the knife out suddenly.
"AUUUUGGGHHH!" Dean cried. "Alright… uhhhh… Ok." Seeing that Sam was ready to stab him again, Dean intensified his implorations, "is it Jesse? Is that who you're talking 'bout? Jessica, right?" Sam smirked a little, and then snorted, then laughed manically…. "Jessica, huh? So another person has to die 'coz of your foolishness… you and Dad both."
Ready to pierce his brother's flesh again, Sam raised the knife high so that it formed a silhouette against the moon's bright face. Whilst descending downward, Dean's sharp bark met Sam's arm halfway, and pushed the arm away slightly.
The tip of the bark met Sam's shirt and forced a large diagonal tear above Sam's chest, from the top centre-right to the bottom-left, the region where his heart was stored.
There, on top of the heart, lay a large pentagram symbol, burnt and charred against his white skin.
Sam, a little puzzled, stared at Dean, who in turn, was staring alarmingly at Sam's pentagram.
Samuel, your brother is corrupt, and corrupt ones do not want to receive truth. They would rather hide it, cover it and mask it than unleash it. Because the truth pains them so. Samuel, you will protect your friend, won't you? Your epitome of truth? Envelop me so that your brother may not stare at me so, for I see hatred in his eyes.
"…are you in me?" Sam shivered. "What are you doing to me? What do you want from me…?" Sam being to panic, and his shivering now became quite a serious seizure.
Dean dropped alongside Sam on the grassy ground, his blood carelessly spewing out. "Sigil of Baphomet," whispered Dean, "the symbol used by the Satanist Church… Sam, what have you gotten yourself into bro…? You're… possessed by a devil?" Dean was now crying wildly. "I don't even know how to kick that one out of you, it was never in the books…". He started fingering the symbol. "Sam… I'm gonna get it outta there, I swear to God, I WILL get it outta there if it means taking my life…"
Dean thought to himself a little… how the hell is he supposed to get a devil out of his brother's body? Demons are different things… so salt won't work.
Sam's seizures intensified, and he was talking to himself a little more… ok a lot more. The symbol seemed to be shining in the moonlight.
"The bstrd is loving his time in there," cursed Dean, "leave him alone, you son of a bitch! Get outta there… does it even have the manners to reply back?".
Dean had an idea. Satan is evil… evil doesn't like holy water. But there's different types of holy water depending on the scriptures you recite into the holy water. If you use the New Testament from the Bible, that helps grandly with Vampires. If you use the Old Testament, that would help tackle Demons. What helps exorcise a Devil? He must use a different Scripture. It seems that the pattern is… the older the scripture, the older the enemies it destroys are… and devils are OLD! Which is good enough, because the next oldest thing in the house is a torn part of the old Jewish Torah.
Dean left the convulsing Sam and headed, in a limp, to the house. He came back with a few torn pages, and with great struggle, recited the words out loud.
In answer, Sam's convulsions became worse.
Dean rubbed his right hand in the wound, deep. Ahhhh, he thought, but never mind – blood was plentiful.
He massaged his bloody hand on top of the Sam's heart, where the pentagram lay. Sam was now having multiple fits and spasms. Frantically.
"Leave him be," a hoarse voice hissed out of Sam's lips, "he's mine. You brought him nothing but pain and now I am freeing him… look!"
Sam's voice returned immediately, "Mother, you idiot, it was mother I was talking about. Dad was happily watching the TV downstairs… why wasn't he with her? Did he think she could handle everything by herself? Could he not see a shadow passing over the house that night….?" He began to sob heavily, "well I was there. I watched mother's chest open, it's contents spill to the floor… I watched as her skin crawled away to reveal her flesh. I watched him drag her to the ceiling and freeze her there… giving me the time to watch her lifeless eyes glaring at me…
And all this time where was he? He came right at the last minute, when she was already a shell, when she couldn't breathe or smile. Her blood dripped on me, you idiot! Where were you guys when my mother, MY MOTHER, was being ripped apart?"
Sam was wailing, "Where were you and Dad? She gave me everything, from life to love, from happiness to home… don't you get it? I needed her, Dean… and I needed her and I needed her…" Sam was whispering in between his sobs,
"And I need her now… and I will need her tomorrow, and whenever after. One could sure do without a father when they're young, but one will always have a default if mother ain't there. I yearned for her the first time I walked, I yearned for her when all the parents took their kids from kindergarten, I yearned for her when the stupid school bully punched me, and I certainly longed for her presence beside me when Jesse died…" Sam was beside himself in tears and emotion.
Dean didn't perceive that long, smooth and cold tears were welling in his eyes and dropping greatly on the back of his bloody hand, on top of the pentagram.
"I needed her too bro… I need her too…" he replied, unsure of the situation, never having experienced this before.
Sam's voice now changed to the Devil's, "and he wants change, fast. He wants payback. He wants you and John to admit you felt it too, to admit it killed you and your father too… to admit he isn't the only one who feels".
"Well, he ain't the only one…" recoiled Dean in resistance.
"He wants to be free from emotion, free from guilt, free from responsibility and sensitivity."
"You retarded bitch!" retorted Dean, "that's who he is, asshole, he can't and he won't change it. He carries all our hearts in his, he carries all our feelings, and he carries all our desires… he's Sammy, for God's sake! He's meant to do that… that's what makes him a THOUSAND times more important and more special than me, you freak…" he screamed at the glowing pentagram, "it's Sammy… my Sammy, my little brother…"
Dean began to rock back and forth in pain… all of this was the truth.
"Don't you think I wanted to have done something, Sam? Don't you think I felt pain too? Don't you think I had nightmares, and mostly couldn't even sleep? Sammy…" he replaced his hand on top of the Pentagram again, "I LOVE YOU, MAN! I love you, you big softie… I love you", he left the last three words trailing off in a whimper…
A gasp, a rush of breath, an answered prayer…
The pentagram slowly dissolved into Sam's flesh, leaving behind a naturally white skin… and his obviously pink nipple.
Dean began to laugh in ecstasy, in delight, in elation…. He laughed uncontrollable and was rocking Sam back and forth…
"Wake up, small guy, and carry me home… after all I'm sure God made you taller for a reason…" he joked.
Sam scratched his chocolate, rich hair and got up from the ground. He looked up at the sky… dawn was around the corner. He looked down at Dean and regarded him for a few minutes…
"Dude, your leg is bleeding… and your face is a little blue…. And it looks like you have a serious problem on your head… and Oh, shit! Hehehe… you got a worse problem with your dick…" Sam chuckled, "it's all twisted and droopy… hehehe" Sam continued grinning, "Looks like you ain't gonna be leaving your little Deanies in any girl's panties for a looooooooong time." Sam guffawed.
"Shut up and pick me up already, and carry me home, stupido" snapped Dean back…although he started laughing too after his anger withered away.
"Did you think it was that simple?" hissed the voice above them, "did you think you would all get what you wanted easily and I would be cast aside equally easily?"
"Leave us alone, you bitch!" Retorted Dean, holding onto his bleeding leg, "what the HELL do you want from us?"
"Nothing from you, naturally, I assure you… however little Samuel here isn't staying with you long." She started laughing hysterically, "he has a meeting with my… what do you call it now… my boss" she continued laughing…
"Errr… Dean, could you maybe explain to me what's going on?" asked Sam, puzzled.
"Sure thing, Sam, just later…" answered Dean, both of them trying to retreat back into the house.
"See? That's exactly what I don't like… this thing here wants me and you decide conveniently that I don't need to get involved…" Sam was arguing, slightly, with a hint of pleading.
"Fine, Sam… have it your way" Dean muttered the last four, "devil-girl, here, possessed you and made you a little naughty. You smashed the house down a little and now she's outta you and she wants in again… that enough for ya?" Dean said it all in one breath, which wasn't exactly good since he was low on oxygen and blood already.
"Who do you work for?" screamed Sam at the blue sky, at something he couldn't quite see. He felt his pretend-game was rather unnecessary, "what does he want from me?" he asked in defiance.
"So you DO know your highest bidder, Samuel" she hissed back, "my, my, now I know why they ALL want a piece of you, Samuel. You have foresight without having visions, you have visions without need of translation, and you make translations without confusion…"
"I'm flattered, for his sake, really," replied Dean, "but I really don't wanna waste ma time, so just kindly tell me how to kill or banish you, whatever, and I'll give you a doll or two of your own to possess…" he finished, smiling faintly. He wasn't able to continue. He felt his brain exploding out of his skull, though not literally, and his body swooning slightly…
Sam began to look around him, at the house, at the trees, at the shed… as though feeling her encircling him…
"Of course, you will always end up going to the highest bidder…" she hissed quietly in his ears, ignoring Dean's earlier comments, "the-one-who-mustn't-be-mentioned…" she joked, and laughed at her joke, "the one who has always been after you…?"
"Hasn't he had enough already?" Yelled Sam, "what does he NEED from me?"
"Oh, come on, stop lying, please," she hissed back angrily, "do not lie to me, Samuel… I am now beginning to understand why my like are going to Hell, which is primarily to do with lying, but honestly… I've been with you longer than you think…"
She began, "I have been the one who gave you those dreams, the ones from which you woke up sweating and gasping, the ones you made sure no one else saw except you…" she continued, "the ones you pretended never happened and you abandoned to the back of your head…
It's your destiny Samuel, you were chosen and were meant to be at his side, his companion, his partner… between you, you shall own the worlds, and between you, you will be kings and leaders…"
"…I'm not going to meet him," Sam panicked, hesitating slightly, not denying that he had thought about it for a few seconds, "I am NOT going to meet him, and you can gladly go and tell him that!"
"Not part of the deal, Samuel," she answered, "He said what you dreamed of, again and again. And in any case, I was to bring you to him fully at the mansion of"
At this point, the Devil suddenly combusted internally into a whirlwind of flames. There were ear-piercing cries, at which Samuel covered his ears and fell on his knees to the ground. He shivered slightly, and then all was over.
Sam looked around for Dean, and saw him lying there on the perch of the house, his head rather drained of blood, pale and blue, resting on a large rock, and his right hand trying to hold the blood into his leg. He has been bleeding unstoppably for more than six hours. There was a long blood trial from the central tree in the garden up to the house, and more still on Dean's clothes.
Sam took of his shirt and strapped it tightly around his brother's right leg.
At this, Dean awoke faintly with a moan, "Auuuuhh! Take it easy dude, it's not like I even feel the pain any more" he whispered sarcastically.
Sam, whipping off his tears, replied, "Did, did, uuhh, did… I do this to you?"
Dean looked at him and then his eyes rotated back, resting his head on the rock again. "Dean, talk to me boy, come on! Dean, Dean… DEAN!" Sam was shouting.
"Shut up, already, I'm here dude, not in Timbuktu" replied Dean in a hoarse whisper… "Now stop being a girl and take me to the hospital".
Whilst Sam carried him to the house to get dressed, Dean muttered, "at least that invisible bitch is gone…"
However, Sam couldn't help neglect the feeling that someone had stopped her from speaking… or saying what she shouldn't have.
"Hey, Sammy," whispered Dean dimly, "stop thinking about it… it's gone… now we better face tomorrow with clear heads, ok?"
"Sure thing, Dean," replied Sam, with Dean still in his arms, "yeah… will do…. By the way when did you faint?"
"I DID NOT faint, silly," snapped Dean, "I did not… don't want her lot hearing about it anyhow…"
And after Sam's persistent stare, "after she threw you praises, I guess… reckon what would really kill me off is you being admired…" he joked, lightly ruffling Sam's hair with his left hand, letting his flaky blood, which solidified during the night, rest amongst Sam's hair.
"GOOD!" chuckle Sam… thank God Dean didn't hear a thing of importance.
"Dude, you have some serious anger management problems…" grinned Dean, on their way to the hospital, letting Sam drive for one of the few countable-on-your-right-hand times in their entire lives, "all I wanted to do yesterday was to get coke from the fridge…" Both the brothers laughed.
A/N
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