Ha ha! I'm back after that evil cliffie and job hunting! So, how's Sammy gonna take the news?

Chapter 5

I Dare You To Move

He could hear Dean pacing, crossing the floor, waiting for him to come to terms with everything. But that was impossible. How could he possibly digest all of that? Not only had he hopped forward nearly twenty years when he was shooting to go back three or four, but his brother had broken himself out of Hell, and- oh yeah- here was the kicker: Sammy Winchester, Demon Hunter Extraordinaire, had taken over the world with an army of demons he'd let out of Hell. Just like ole Yeddy always wanted.

"That's impossible," he muttered for what had to be the hundredth time since meeting up with his brother again.

"You know, you keep saying that," Dean said, pulling back the tattered curtains and peering out the window, "but it doesn't change anything."

"I couldn't have done that."

Dean turned to him and frowned, and for an instant, Sam could see his brother shining through the stolen meat suit, could see the man that he'd lost. "If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't your fault. If I hadn't left-"

"You would have wound up in Hell anyway, Dean. That's what happens when people kill themselves."

The older man smirked. "Look who's the mind reader now."

Sam shook his head. "How could I let this happen?"

"I told you, it wasn't your fault." The demon crossed the room and sat back down on the bed, placing a cautious hand on his brother's shoulder. "Nobody saw this coming. Nobody could have. But it's all right. Not your fault. We're thinking it's fixable."

"I unleashed the armies of Hell onto Earth. How is that fixable?"

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. He cocked his head to one side, as if listening. Without saying a word, he stood and stalked back to the window, brushing the curtains aside enough to see out of them. "Dammit."

"What?"

The older man turned back to him. "Look, I know you're freaking out about all this, and you have a right to, but we need to have this talk later."

"Why?"

"Because they found us."

Sam stood up. "Who found us?"

"Demons. We need to go." He reached under the table and pulled out a battered backpack.

"If they're demons, couldn't I just-?"

"They can't know you're here," Dean said, grabbing his brother's arm and pulling him away from the door. "Come on."

"I thought you could pass for one of them."

"Let's just say a select few have this handsome mug committed to memory." They walked into the run-down bathroom, where Dean knocked out what remained of the glass on the small window. "Think you can fit?"

Sam eyed the window and nodded. They both slid through unharmed and emerged into a back alleyway. "Where are we going?"

"We need to find a manhole," the demon replied as he started off through the darkened alley.

"Any reason?"

Dean smiled. "Now that we've gotten the past twenty years established, I figure it's time for you to meet the troops."

"The troops live in a sewer?"

The older man glared at him, pushing a finger to his stolen lips as they neared the end of the alley. He peeked out onto the desolate landscape, his eyes roving over the barren earth, searching for whatever he'd seen and heard back in the room. He looked back at Sam and nodded, giving the all-clear.

Slowly, they moved from their hiding place. As Sam stepped out of the sheltered alley and back into what the world had become since Dean had died, he shuddered. This was what he was going to do, this was his destiny, set in stone since his infancy. This was all he could aspire to.

He followed Dean down a cracked sidewalk, watching the older man walk, the familiar swagger that seemed so out-of-place on the young boy his brother was inhabiting. Dean had once told him that destiny was a load of bull, that a man could choose his own fate. Sam hoped he was right. If he was, then Sam could fix it, could fix everything.

He smiled to himself. Yeah. He could fix it. He had found his brother, and together, they would fix everything. They could save the world.

And then he heard the angry shout, turned to see a woman standing on the sidewalk behind them. A man joined her, and he recognized them as the couple he'd seen walking with the hellhound. The couple was running after them in an instant, racing down the sidewalk.

Dean reached back and grabbed his brother's arm, moving his open palm in an arc toward the advancing demons as he turned. To both brothers' surprise, their attackers promptly stopped running and flew backward through the air, landing hard on the uneven cement.

Sam and Dean met each other's eyes for a brief moment before taking off back down the sidewalk, running as fast as they could.

Old shoes pounded against crumbling pavement as the boys ran, eyes scanning the streets for signs of entrance into the sewer systems. Finally, Dean caught sight of a manhole and rushed into the middle of the road. He dropped to his knees as Sam stopped beside him. Together, they hefted the heavy cover from the hole, revealing a rusting ladder that led to the depths of the earth.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder to see that the demons were long gone before dropping down into the hole. He looked back up and grinned at Sam. "Come on in, Sammy. The water's fine."

Rolling is eyes at the remark, the likes of which he'd missed over the years, Sam lowered himself into the sewer. His shoes splashed down in shallow, brown water and he cringed. "This is disgusting."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, all the Extreme World Make-Over crap you pulled up top, you'd think you could have tidied up down here, too."

Sam glared at him. "That isn't funny. Why didn't you stop me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You could have killed me, Dean. You could have stopped me."

Dean shook his head and started off through the sewer, kicking up stinking water as he went. "Come on, Sammy. You know me. I couldn't do that."

"You have to do something. You could have at least tried.

"And I did," Dean said, whirling around to face the taller man. "I had a plan."

"Yeah? And what was that?"

"I was gonna get up inside you."

Sam blinked. "Eew."

"I figured that you were still in there somewhere, that I could get through. I thought if I hopped in, I could remind you of who you were. I thought I could make you remember."

"Why didn't you?"

Dean sighed, stepping toward his brother and grabbing the collar of the younger man's shirt. He yanked the fabric down far enough to expose the tattooed pentagram that stood out stark against Sam's tanned skin. "That's why. I'd need to break the Trap, but I can't get close enough to you to do it." He let go of Sam's shirt and stepped away, turning back to gaze down the dark sewer tunnel. "Sorry."

Sam glanced down at his stretched out shirt before looking back at Dean and following the older man through the tunnel. "So, where are we going?"

"To rally the troops."

"My troops?"

"No, dumbass. The two lovebirds we just met were yours. I'm talking about ours."

"Ours?"

Dean turned and grinned. "You didn't really think we'd let you get away with all this without a fight, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, although he had a pretty good idea. He smiled. If someone was fighting, it meant that there was hope, and hope meant that he could fight it, take destiny head-on and win.

And he realized for the first time since waking up that he was different. Different than he'd been earlier that day, when he'd killed Bela, stabbed her in the back in a sick imitation of the action that had damned himself and his brother. He was different now, better, human. He liked the feeling.

He followed Dean through the tunnels, followed him through the darkness, followed him blindly, just as he always had, and now always would.