Chapter 30 - Finding Peace

Sam watched with mild horror as Aaron and his cronies exited the room, slamming the door behind them. His attention immediately turned to Dean.

'Dean?'

'Sam?' Dean replied weakly and breathlessly.

'Hey man…everything's gunna be ok,' Sam assured him.

'Is that right psychic boy?' snapped Dean, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 'The last time I looked I was standing on my tip toes on the edge of a chair, a noose around my neck, after I've been beaten senseless and I'm at a risk of passing out and hanging myself. But yeah, everything'll be ok.'

'It will be Dean,' Sam said defiantly, hurt by his brother's tone. 'I had a vision…'

Silence fell between them, before Dean muttered: 'I'm sorry Sam. I…I didn't mean to hurt you. Things just aren't looking great right now.'

'It's ok Dean,' Sam replied uncomfortably. 'My vision wasn't exactly promising anyway.'

'Let me guess: We're gunna die?'

Sam was a little taken aback at his brother's bluntness, but after all they had been through, it didn't really surprise him that Dean longed for an end; for a better place. After all, they'd been to hell and back on more than one occasion.

'Yeah,' Sam said, gasping slightly and clutching at his stomach; suppressing a moan from how sick he felt. His vision went fuzzy, and he blinked furiously a few times to try and clear it, but it just got worse. 'And um…' His mouth went dry, and he licked his cracked lips uncomfortably. 'You got stabbed. And I just...died. I dunno how I died…it's like I just keeled over and that was it.'

His insides were set alight, the heat spreading like a wildfire through his body. What was wrong with him? Dean had noticed the unsteadiness in Sam's voice, and though it puzzled him, he pushed it aside; Sam would tell him if something was wrong. Wouldn't he? If he had been able to see though, he would've been instantly concerned by Sam's ghostly pale face, and by the sweat that poured by the bucket load off his face.

'They poisoned you,' Dean said softly. 'And um…I don't really wanna tell you this, but time's running out. But it's ok; I have a plan.'

Total silence met him.

'Sam? Sam!'

But he was too late; Sam's head had already dropped into unconsciousness, his body slumping against the tight ropes that held him. And that was the moment. The moment Dean longed for his brother more than ever; he desperately wanted to see his brother; his only family, who he raised on his own.

It hit him then why they had blindfolded him. Aaron had known Sam wouldn't stay awake long; he had dumped the weight of not knowing what was happening onto Dean's shoulders. Hearing Sam was good…but Dean longed to see him, more than he ever thought he would. It just wasn't the same.

He was still groggy from his beating, and standing on the edge of his feet was beginning to take its toll. He was wobbling more consistently, hanging on by a bare thread. But Sam said he wouldn't die this way. So he'd be damned if he gave up now. Plus, he had a plan. It wasn't a guarantee to work, but it was worth a shot. It could be what saved their asses.
Hour by hour passed; Sam didn't wake up, and Dean grew weaker. His sanity was slowly slipping away from the constant darkness and not knowing if Sam was ok, and he seriously contemplated just letting go and ending it all.

He'd never considered himself suicidal; funny how your perspective can change. But it was the thought of Sam that always made him more determined, to not let go, to go that extra hour, to see this through. And give them more chance of survival.
So he balanced for another hour, maybe two. As if he'd count how long this torment went for. As he was right on the brink of exhaustion, on the last strengths of this aching, stressed feet, he heard the door being opened, a slight wave of relief flowing through him. And god he hoped they would let him down.

His prayers were answered as he felt a jerk around his already tender neck as the rope was hacked through, and he teetered off the chair, landing with a thud on the stone floor, which was actually a relief to his weary feet, and he appreciated the coolness that now seeped through him. His blindfold was jerked off; his eyes immediately scanning the bare room for Sam; but he wasn't there.

'As if we'd actually let you see your brother,' scorned Aaron, noticing Dean's glance around the room. 'What fun would that be?'

He pulled Dean back onto his sore feet via a clump of hair, delighted with Dean's wince of pain.

'Surely after what you've been through, a little hair pulling can't hurt.'
Dean opened his mouth to retort back to Aaron, but a hand was roughly clapped over his mouth, warning him.

'Not a word,' said Aaron in a hushed voice. 'You'll have your say right before I kill you…in about…oh, let's say…4 hours? Then I can watch your worthless brother die seconds later.'

He still held onto the white cloth that had barred Dean's sight all that time, and after motioning to his man that still had his hand clapped firmly on Dean's face to let go, proceeded to tie the cloth as it had been before; shoved between his teeth and knotted harshly behind his head.

'Not a word from you,' taunted The Demon. 'And thank god for that, because whatever you say pierces my ears and gives me a stunning headache.'

Dean's face was frozen into a defiant glare, his eyes never breaking contact with Aaron's. But that just delighted the Demon more.

'I've got a few things that I feel the need to tell you Dean,' began Aaron, resting his hands on Dean's bare shoulders. Dean shrugged him off. 'Some people say I can read minds. And right now, I bet you're wondering if I really am the bastard who killed your mother…since you killed a demon like me not so long ago. But that demon was a copy-cat; a fake, and you wasted the one thing that could kill me on him.'

Aaron laughed inhumanely. 'It's great isn't it? You've screwed up royally Dean. You've doomed the one remaining person in your family…he probably only has a bit over 3 hours left. But that's not important.'

Aaron's eyes wandered over Dean's wounded body, as if admiring the suffering he had caused.

'Is that all sir?' asked Marc.

'Yes, I suppose so,' dismissed Aaron. 'Get him out of my sight. He makes me sick…I don't want to see him until it's time.'

His men nodded their affirmation and began leading Dean away, who was too stunned to do anything but meekly follow behind.

'Oh Dean,' called out Aaron. 'When I escorted young Samuel back to his cell, he started mumbling about his ribs being broken again.' Aaron shrugged. 'He must've re-damaged them when I accidentally kicked him.'

He waited for Dean to explode like he wanted him to do. He wanted his face to go red, for his body to tremble, for him begin to thrash and kick to get away; but it never came. Instead, Dean sent Aaron an almost sympathetic gaze as he was shoved from the room, leaving The Demon was slightly confused, but in awe. Dean Winchester was entirely unpredictable.

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Waking up to someone's foot in your gut wasn't exactly the way Sam had imagined it, but the blow-by-blow hit his exhausted body until he finally managed to open his eyelids. He immediately shut his tired lids from the bright lights that shone without mercy into his eyes. As boot hit bone, Sam felt sharp cracks as his ribs were snapped once more, forcing them to begin their healing process all over. He felt someone grasp his arm again and drag him along the rough stone ground, before he found himself in the familiar cell he had occupied earlier that day.

As the door was locked with an echoing clang of metal, he crawled weakly over to the bed, tenderly supporting his ribs, and heaved himself up onto the mattress. It wasn't very soft, but it was better than the solid floor. It was here that he lost consciousness once more, his mind drifting away, the peace of sleep empowering him. It didn't last long. The peace turned into a nightmare, the images of his previous dream flashing before him, as if reminding him of the darkened scenes that would occur; haunting him again.

Dean. Blood. Knife. Dead.

But he didn't wake up gasping like before; instead, he remained in unconsciousness, the images flashing again and again, repeating over and over. Sam was too weak to open his eyes, to fight the pain, and soon the force of the images plunged him deep into the black abyss. It was there he found a quiet corner, and all his worries simply floated away.

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They'd made his last couple of hours as uncomfortable as possible. Tied to a wooden post, in a pitch black room, his mouth still silenced by the thick white cloth. All he could do was vacantly gaze into the vast nothingness, and let his thoughts run wild. It's not like he was bored; he was too busy worrying about Sam. Sam. Even thinking the name made him cringe. What had he done to his brother? Sam would be traumatised for the rest of his life…if they got out alive.

Right now that was a very big 'if'. And it was his fault. Dean didn't normally believe in blaming a single person; he was more set on 'accidents happen' and 'things go wrong'…but not this time. He had dumped the entire ordeal on himself. It hurt like hell, but it felt so right. And with this burden, he leaned back, resting his head on the post, and endured each hour fading away before him.

Footsteps outside confirmed his destiny was coming; if he didn't get time to do his plan, they were done for. He'd spent the last few hours in the dark going over the plan, again and again, and hoping he would be provided with an opportunity. He didn't try anything stupid as he was cut loose from the post and as Jacob tightened his hands behind him once more. He walked tenderly alongside the burly man, matching his stride, and trying to ignore the shooting pain that went through his legs.

But those 20 oversized steps down the hallway were the most agonizing compared to everything else; just standing outside the door made Dean feel ill. He was afraid of what was inside. His life, and his brothers, was destined to finish in that room. A thought he didn't want to contemplate. Jacob pushed the door open; it seemed like an eternity had passed before it was wide open, inviting him in, to his doom.

Dean's breath hitched in his throat as he finally laid his eyes on Sam, but the sight was too much for him to handle. The pale, weakened man before him looked nothing like his brother…and to make the situation worse, he wasn't moving. He looked dead. Dean licked his dry lips as the gag was removed, and he turned slightly to look at Jacob.

'He's not…' he said hoarsely, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

'Unfortunately, not quite,' was the harsh reply. 'He's just unconscious…but so deep in he won't be coming out anytime soon. Unless Master gives him the antidote, which I doubt.'

'Antidote?' Dean's hopes grew.

Jacob realised his stupid slip up and smacked Dean hard across the head.

'Shut up.'

Dean went quiet anyway, staring at his brother, who looked so peaceful. He was still deep in thought when Aaron and his gang filed in; so deep he didn't even notice their arrival.

'Something on your mind Dean?' asked Aaron, snapping the eldest Winchester back into reality.

'Just thinking about how I'm gunna destroy the asshole who did this too my brother,' was the croaky reply.

'Sorry Dean, did you say something?' mocked Aaron. He laughed. 'I just want this over with. Times up Dean.'

He drew a dagger from his sheath and admired its sharpness.

'Here's how this works,' drawled Aaron. 'You stand there, I stab you, you die. Simple.'

'Please…' whispered Dean, struggling to get the words out of his dry, cracked throat. 'Just let me say goodbye to him.'

'What does it matter…he'll just join you in hell. Tell him there.' Aaron advanced.

'PLEASE,' Dean's voice cracked as he used everything he had left to get his point across.

'Ugh,' scorned Aaron. 'Fine. Hurry up.'

Dean jerked his bound arms away from Jacob, and crouched down beside his brother's head.

'Sam…c'mon Sam. Wake up…please.'

Aaron watched, bored, as Dean continued to coax Sam awake. From his position he couldn't hear what was being said, but quite frankly, he didn't care.

Dean let his breath out in a big whoosh as Sam's eyes cracked open slightly.

'Hey Sammy,' he whispered. 'You can close your eyes…I just wanted to make sure you're ok. Don't worry…I have a plan. But if it doesn't work…I want you to know that…' he paused, unable to say it. 'You know what I mean. But don't worry…I'm sure it won't matter. This will work, I promise.'

Aaron began tapping his foot impatiently as Dean continued whispering something into Sam's ear – he had appeared to have fallen into unconscious again.

'That's enough Winchester. Time's up. For real this time,' said Aaron, yanking Dean and turning him around, so he faced him directly. He frowned, confused at the twinkle that had appeared in Dean's eyes, and the smile that flooded onto his face as he spoke the final words of the Incantation he had found on the net.

Aaron's face fell as he recognized the words; his breath hitched in his throat, choking him. His heart stopped, and his insides were wrenched apart. The world spun as the dagger slipped from his fingers, and the only sound in the room was the clatter of the knife as it came to a rest on the ground. As he clutched at his heart, he lost the strength in his legs, and he dropped to his knees in front of Dean, shocked at what was happening.

'Burn in hell bitch.' Those were the last words he heard as he burst into flames, suffering the torment and death he had set onto other innocents in the past.

Dean's face was dark and unreadable as he watched his life's mission being sent to the depths of hell forever. A black mist arose from the burning remains of an innocent victim who had unfortunately been caught in the middle of terror and violence, and mid-air it exploded spectacularly into millions of pieces, and evaporated into thin air.

Dean snapped out of his trance when he spotted a few purple mists out of the corner of his eye. They were returning to their rightful owners of Jacob, Marc, Joel, Anthony and Jane.

Then it hit him – Sam!

'Sam!' he exclaimed excitedly, turning to his brother. 'We did it! It's really-'

His voice died off. Sam's eyes were slowly closing. He had a content smile on his face, and as he pleaded with his eyes for Dean to let him go, he slowly he slipped away, his soul free, his worries disappearing. And it was here, that moment, that he rejoined his mum and Jess, finding a serene place amongst the clouds.

Sam Winchester found peace.

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One more to go. Thankyou for your kind reviews; much appreciated :)

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Nikki