Your Latest Trick
Note: This is the fourth story in the "Demon Blood" 'verse. Read "Purpose", "Demon Blood" and "Supernatural vs Evil" first, please.
"I swear, Sam," Dean said as they pulled up to the graveyard, "you are way too sentimental for your own good. It's just a grave marker."
"Doesn't matter," Sam said, and Dean could see the dog tags that had belonged to their father clutched in one hand. "Now are you comin' or not?"
Dean shook his head, but he didn't wait long before climbing out of the Impala, just to make sure he could still see his little brother as he approached the headstone erected by Mary Winchester's uncle, a man neither boy had ever met. After all, it wasn't like there had been a body left behind after that fire all those years ago.
"Mary Campbell, the daughter of Hunter Samuel Campbell."
For the first time, Dean wondered how much John had really known about their mom or her family. Was this uncle a Hunter, too? Had he known what had really happened the night Azazel had killed their mom just for interrupting his one-on-one time with Sam? And that thought led, as always, to the still startling revelation that Sam had demon blood in his veins. The poor kid had also recovered from a forced addiction to the stuff just three weeks earlier. I wish you weren't Azazel's favorite, Dean thought dully, turning away and readjusting his jacket.
That's when he spotted the circle of dead grass that included a very dead tree in its embrace. And of course Sam wouldn't think anything strange of it, well, not until Dean proved the dead grass marked the existence of a zombie once named Angela Mason. And then he promptly went and blamed the girl's father, which was, admittedly, a mistake, but the way Sam looked at him after made him want to just abandon the kid by the side of the road before he could say anything.
"Dean, you can't keep this up!"
"Keep what up?" Dean asked, keeping his voice level as he walked away from Dr. Mason's house.
"This 'take on the world on my own' bullshit!" Sam exclaimed. "You're erratic and totally on edge unless you're Hunting, and then you're downright terrifying! You're tail-spinning, man, and you refuse to talk about it or let me help —"
"I can take care of myself, thanks," Dean snapped.
"No, Dean, you can't." Sam stared at him hard. "You seem to think you have to, but you don't! Why the hell do you think you have to? Because of Dad?"
"We're not talking about Dad, Sam," Dean ground out, staring up at his little brother and clenching his fists. It was really starting to piss him off that Sam constantly assumed that Dean's latest "issues" were because of their dead father. It didn't matter that this wasn't far off from the truth, but it also didn't change the fact that Dean was angry at John for what he did and what he said, nor did it change the fact that he could not and would not talk about John and the pile of shit he'd dumped onto his shoulders. Sam didn't need to know that their own father thought he needed saving or a gunshot to the head.
"Why not?" Sam replied sharply. "You know, the way you've been acting, you'd think it was only you who lost Dad! This is hurting me, too, or do you not care because I never made peace with the man until after I got kidnapped, addicted, learned I had demons controlling my entire life, and then failed to get us out of that warehouse before he could commit to that deal? Is it me you're angry with, because I can always leave —"
That was when Dean realized the amount of guilt Sam had piled on himself. "I'm the one who tripped, Sam," he cut in quietly. "It's my fault you lost concentration and Dad ended up —" He broke off and turned away. "And I don't want you to leave," he added, battling the rising emotions that threatened to sweep him away. He didn't want to do this, he couldn't do this, not right now when his emotions regarding Sam and his dad were all fucked up. No matter how you cut it, Sam was a freak of nature and John had been an over-obsessed revenge-seeker who was too secretive and had left behind a massive burden that Dean just wasn't sure he could carry much further.
"I'm sorry Dad's dead," Sam whispered after a long moment. "It feels like it didn't matter what I did, because he ended up dead, anyway." He laughed in that way that told Dean he was trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. "If I'd shot him, he'd be dead. If Azazel hadn't taken me, then we might've ended being hurt by some other demon and then he'd probably still make a Deal to save either one of us."
"Hey," Dean said, finally turning around and taking in Sam's watery eyes, "I don't blame you at all, Sammy, and I wish we could get him back more than anything, but I would never do it if it meant losing you in the process."
"I feel like I'm already losing you, Dean," Sam said, dropping his head and hiding his all-to-expressive eyes from Dean's sight. "I mean, we lost Mom and Dad, and I lost Jess…"
"No," Dean said firmly, finally moving forward and putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. "You're not gonna lose me, and I don't care about demonic influence or what Azazel told you," he added before Sam could so much as open his mouth, "because it won't happen. I know I'm being an ass, and I'm sorry, but we should get outta here before the cops show."
Sam gave a shaky sigh and nodded. Dean pulled away, noticing the faint tremors that still affected Sam's left hand. It seemed his body was never completely going to get over the demon blood addiction he had suffered, and it pained Dean in ways he never wanted to admit to his little brother. None of this was fair.
Dean waited silently as Sam researched zombie lore on his laptop, his left hand clenched in his lap as he scrolled down the current webpage he was on. "This sucks," Sam finally proclaimed, leaning back and running his right hand through his hair. "There's way too much lore on ways to kill them."
"That's great," Dean sighed. "Are there any ways that are repeated more than others?"
"Uh, there's a couple that mention silver," Sam replied after a moment's thought.
"Okay, I guess we're breakin' out the bullets," said Dean.
Which sort of worked, they found. "It affected her, I could tell that much," Dean said as he returned to Sam and Lindsey's side. Lindsey was Angela's roommate, and she had also cheated on Angela with her boyfriend Matt. So, zombified Angela decided she was going to get her revenge. Matt was dead, and Lindsey had almost suffered the same fate. "We've gotta find something else."
This led to the idea of stabbing Angela into her coffin with a long, silver spear. A not-so-carefully laid trap then led to Sam being bait. Dean was waiting, watching as Sam ran from zombie-girl, tensing as she tackled him to the ground, presumably to try and kill him.
"No, stop!" Sam shouted as they hit the ground, and then something unexpected happened: Angela stopped. She stared down at Sam, blinking in confusion, and Dean couldn't see Sam's face, but he imagined his little brother must be surprised by Angela's sudden compliance.
"Uh… Get off me?" Sam tried, and Angela laughed.
"Why the hell would I do that?" she asked, and started to raise one hand in a threatening way.
"Get in your grave," Sam snapped a moment later, and Dean felt his mouth drop open as Angela stiffened before doing exactly as Sam said. She dropped into her grave, and Dean remembered his part at the last second, quickly running over to the grave, sliding in with his silver spear and slamming it into Angela's chest.
"NO!" she screamed, and now she tried to fight back, but it was too late. Dean pushed the spear through Angela and into her coffin with a sickening squelch, and then she stopped moving for good.
Dean climbed out of the grave, staring down at Angela in confusion before looking over at Sam, surprised to find him still on the ground. "Sam?"
Sam sat up quickly. "What?" he asked, and there was an unexpected note of fear in his voice.
"Um…" Dean was confused by Sam's sudden inability to meet his eye, as well as the tone of voice he had spoken in. "Dude, what happened?"
Sam slowly stood and brushed himself off, clearly taking his time as he tried to think of what to say. "Uh, what d'you mean?"
Dean raised his eyebrows. Sam would try for denial. "What the hell do you think I mean, Sam? She obeyed you, man!"
Sam continued to avert his eyes. "Yeah," he finally said. "I know."
"Okay," Dean said slowly, "so what was that all about?"
The way Sam's posture slumped in shame had Dean beyond worried, now. "Sammy?" he asked, lowering his voice and carefully stepping forward. "Why did she obey you like you were Luke Skywalker?"
Sam's left hand was shaking again, and at a closer distance, Dean could now see that he was blinking as though he had a major headache. "You did pull a Jedi mind trick on her," he stated, and after a long moment, Sam nodded.
So that made for visions, telekinesis, Hulk-strength, and now mind control. What other things could his little brother be capable of now? The visions and single bout of telekinesis had been more than Dean thought he could handle, but this?
"You told me the blood only affected the exorcism thing, right?" He asked the question as carefully as he could, but Sam still tensed up before nodding.
"The original… feeding," Sam said, "it only unlocks one power for each of us."
"The six-month-old thing," Dean clarified, and Sam nodded again.
"After that, once you get your ability, you can't do the others unless you sorta…" Sam took a deep breath and continued to look anywhere but at Dean. "You have to either accept it or force it out," he finished. "I forced it, and now it won't stop and I can't always control it." He finally met Dean's eyes, and Dean was unsurprised to see the gathering tears in those hazel eyes. "I don't know what else I'm capable of now," he said shakily. "I've got the telekinesis and strength down pretty pat, but I still don't know when a vision'll hit, and this new thing?"
"The Jedi mind force thing," Dean supplied helpfully, and Sam snorted in laughter.
"I guess I could try to master it," he said, "not that I wanna go using it on you or anything."
Dean paused as he considered this newest development. Sam was clearly scared of himself and what he could do, and while Dean didn't want to willingly subject himself to torture (a.k.a. pranks of doom), Sam needed someone willing to work on controlling this latest power. They didn't need it happening at an inopportune moment.
"I think I'm your best option, Sammy," he said, putting as much confidence as possible into his voice. "Just — nothing embarrassing, okay?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah," Dean said.
Sam smiled, and even though it wasn't the full-on white teeth and dimples he preferred to see, Dean knew he had accomplished his goal of making Sam a little less afraid of his own abilities. "All right," he said, clapping his hands together and turning back to Angela's grave, "we need to finish up with zombie girl and then I wanna get the hell outta this place."
"Yeah, okay," Sam said, moving to where they had hidden their shovels, and then they got to work, burying Angela Mason once and for all. They finished just as the sun was rising, and as they left, Dean glanced over at Mary's headstone. Dad never gets one, he thought. But somehow, that was fine.
Then Sam came to a halt, a frown crossing his face before he turned away from Dean to stare out across the grounds. "Sam?" Dean asked. "What're you doin'?"
After a long moment, Sam turned back to him, a confused look on his face. "I thought — never mind," he said, shaking his head.
"What?" Dean asked.
Sam gave him another small smile. "I think I'm just paranoid, is all," was all he said before heading towards the car. Dean stared after him, still feeling confused. Was there something else going on with Sam? Or was the poor kid just paranoid after everything he'd been through? Dean decided that, for now, he'd just let this slide unless more strange things started happening, and headed after his brother.
As they climbed into the Impala, something else Sam had said earlier rang in his ears again. "You'd think it was only you who lost Dad!"
"Sam," said Dean.
"Yeah?"
"Uh… You know I'm not into chick-flick's right?" This was coming out all wrong. Sam frowned in confusion. "Look," Dean tried again, "I'm not the only person here who lost his father, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way. He gave up everything for the both of us, and I've..." He sighed and looked away. "You made your peace with Dad, and I do know that. So, I'm sorry."
Sam's eyes were watering again, but he only smiled and nodded, and so Dean took that as his cue to put on Black Sabbath and drive away into the sunrise. Now was not the time or the place to divulge his great secret, let alone the anger and fear he felt for and toward John Winchester for putting this burden on his shoulders. He didn't want this burden, and part of him wished he had gone to Hell instead of John. The man obviously knew a great deal about what was coming in the months ahead, and he had refused to tell them a damn thing!
"Sam needs you more than he's ever needed me." Those words still stung, even though Dean knew they were true. John had never been there for Sam when he'd needed him the most. The fact of the matter was that Sam had come to rely on Dean instead of their father because the man just hadn't been there, too obsessed with the Hunt and his fucking revenge. Dean now understood that John had realized this, as well, but he and Sam still needed their father.
He thought back to the painful confession he had made to John weeks ago when Sam had been missing. "I don't think even I can cope with it, and I know he knows it, too." But that no longer meant just the God-awful nightmares Sam still suffered. Dean didn't think he could cope with any of this, from the powers to their father's deal to Azazel's "grand plans" for his little brother. Why couldn't John have understood that? Why did he have to make the burden he carried that much heavier?
"Sam needs you more than he needs John. Not that he doesn't need you both, but you matter more to him." Despite the fact that demons were lying bastards, Dean knew Rachel Nave had hit the bull's eye dead on. And that was reason enough to place aside his anger and pain over John's decisions and final orders in favor of watching over his still too skinny younger brother. He couldn't tell Sam this secret, but he could still swear to the heavens that he would save Sam, no matter what it took.
"Dean? You all right?"
Dean glanced back over at Sam. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Just thinking about stuff." That was code for "I was thinking about Dad and no, I do not want to talk about it", and Dean knew Sam got it when he nodded and looked out the passenger window. Dean reached forward and turned up the volume, allowing the music to wash away the last few hours from his mind. Shame it won't last, he thought, and then he stepped on the gas.
... And that was the next one-shot in the Demon Blood 'verse. Parts of the dialogue were taken from 2.04 "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things". The next story in this 'verse is called "Obi Wan'd". Thank you for reading!
-Yami Faerie