Sorry for the long, long delay; first my Dad visited, then hunting season started...I work in a taxidermy shop in the evenings (after my real job), so you can see where my time would be otherwise occupied. And, of course, Season 2 came out on dvd a couple weeks ago... Hopefully you will like the final product of this chapter. I had to rewrite it a couple of times to get it where I liked it.
Just in case you care, this chapter would probably be rated R if in theater. There is nudity, gross Hell torture scene, and language, but NO SLASH (eww.).
Thanks to reviewers GotTheShining, imissmymind, hardyboyfansrock, RedDragen, Heather, Marthienessx3, ReecesPieces, pandora jazz, Julie, Dark Angels Vengeance, Elliesmeow, fairyofmusic, JHNNangel13, lekelly, XxCrash.And.BurnXx, Alienmom, teal-lover, yasmine32068, Poaetpainter, chat-noir-91, ukfan101, St0pSmackinMe07, and pinkphoenix1985 for your helpful insights and praise.
Disclaimer: see Chp 1.
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Dean smiled tiredly, blinked a couple of times, and drifted back to sleep; a relaxed, happy grin on his face.
A tear of joy rolled down Sam's cheek as he pulled Dean into a hug, holding him tightly for several minutes. When he finally released his hold on Dean, he looked up to see that Bobby and Ellen had been silently wrapping up the business at hand. The gate was closed now, and all their equipment, except Sam's sword, had been packed away on Bobby's truck.
Sam and Bobby worked out that Sam would take Dean in the truck, and Bobby and Ellen would follow on Sam's bike.
"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said; rising from his kneeling position he shook Bobby's hand and pulled him into a hug. "Really. Thank you both." He released Bobby and hugged Ellen.
"Well," she said, still holding Sam tightly. "I would say 'don't mention it', but...well." She pulled back and gave Sam a crooked smile.
Sam chortled. He knew he would owe both Ellen and Bobby until his dying days for what they had done this night. "If you'll help me get him into the truck, I just want to get him into town and check into a motel."
Bobby, Ellen, and Sam all lifted Dean from the ground, and gently put him into the passenger side of Bobby's old blue tow truck, lowering him to the horizontal position and tucking his long, too skinny legs into the floorboard. Sam stood there for a moment looking at his big brother's battered and malnourished body. He couldn't imagine what Dean had gone through over the last five years, but if the condition they found him in were any indication, Sam knew every second of it had been sheer torture.
Sam blinked away new tears at that thought, and turned to the older hunters. "When we get back into town, could I talk you guys into goin' to get the Impala?"
Ellen smiled, pulled the Impala keys from the pocket of her jacket, and nodded. "I figured you'd want these back once you were done playing the hero. I'm up for goin' ta get it. Bobby? Are you in?"
"Of course. Dean's gonna want her back, and after what he's been through, I think the sooner he gets her, the better." Bobby clapped Sam on the back.
Wamsutter, WY was tiny, and did not provide acceptable accomodations for the night, so the Winchester brothers were forced to move on to Rawlins, about 35 miles east along I-80.
As the sun broke the horizon over the eastern mountains, they pulled up to a small motel that was off the main drag of the town called King Courts. Sam left Dean asleep in the truck to secure a room, pausing as he closed the door to look at his unconscious brother again, still unable to fully believe the events that had just taken place, or that this was really Dean, alive.
The pretty brunette clerk, who couldn't have been out of high school yet, flirted briefly, and unsuccessfully, with Sam, then asked if he wanted a room with a king or two queens. Sam had to choke back his words and answer for two queens, as a broad smile graced his scarred face.
Bobby and Ellen pulled into the hotel on Sam's bike as he was exiting the office, and again helped to move Dean, this time into the welcoming hotel room and under the warm covers of a well-worn, but extremely soft, bed.
The two older hunters decided to get some rest before heading back to Beatrice, NE for the Impala, so rented the rooms on either side of Sam and Dean's.
Sam pulled the heavy curtains to the room closed to keep out the bright sun of the new day and plopped down on the empty bed nearest the door. He had chosen to place himself between Dean and the door, silently fearing that this all might be a dream, too good to be true, and that the minions of Hell would burst through the door at any second to reclaim the wayward soul. He pulled the sword from his duffle bag and removed the sheath, then laid the naked blade gently on the bed and began removing his shoes.
Man, I could really use a shower, he thought, as he tucked his head slightly to get a whiff of the stench issuing from his armpits; he scrunched his face involuntarily at the foul smell. He looked at where Dean was sleeping solidly on the bed next to his and sighed heavily, wavering between playing guard dog and getting clean. Dean hadn't moved or made a noise since they had loaded him into the truck back at the cemetary, which worried Sam a bit, causing him to check Dean's pulse and breathing periodically. Dean seemed to be fine, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was try to wake him from what seemed to be restful, recuperative sleep. Noting the small ray of sunshine that still managed to slip in under the closed curtains, Sam guessed that if the Forces of Evil were planning something untoward, they probably wouldn't do it in broad daylight, so he stripped off his shirt and headed for the bathroom.
He placed one hand on the wall at shoulder height and leaned against it as he let the sound of the water completely fill his ears. The water covered his face and began to wash the remants of Hell off his battered body. He took note of several small gashes that he had acquired on the journey, but none of them enough to require stitches, and the Holy Water he had ingested seemingly negated any poison that may have been on the offending talons. He sighed deeply, and fell to his knees in the cascading stream from the showerhead, weeping quietly and closing his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks to God.
"No!!" Dean's cry filled Sam's ears. "No!! NOOO!!" In an instant, he jumped up, threw back the cheap plastic showercurtain and leaped out of the shower. Grabbing the sawn-off shotgun loaded with rock-salt rounds that he had strategically placed inside the bathroom door, Sam pulled the door open forcefully, practically pulling it off the hinges.
"Dean!" he yelled, running toward his brother. Sam took a quick inventory of the small room. There was nothing out of place, nothing jumping out to attack him, no minions of Hell come to kidnap his brother. Just Dean, tossing and turning in a sleep that could now most definitely be described as un-restful, and Sam doubted it was recuperative. "Dean! Wake up!"
Sam let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding. He put down the shotgun, reached down and retrieved the boxer shorts he had been wearing the night before and put them back, practically falling over because he was trying to do it so quickly. Once the task had been accomplished, he knelt beside Dean's bed and shook Dean.
"No! You're not Sam!! Leave me alone you evil son of a bitch!" Dean shouted in his sleep, struggling physically to get away from Sam's touch.
The younger brother stared, mouth ajar, in mortification at his writhing older sibling. "Dean..." He tried shaking him again.
"Sam?!" there was a pounding on the door. It was Bobby. "You okay in there? I heard screaming."
Sam looked back and forth between the door and Dean. As Bobby pounded on the door again threatening to bust it open, Sam slowly got up and made his way over to unlock it. There stood Bobby, in his trucker cap and boxer shorts with his shotgun at the ready. As he walked through the now open door, Ellen came running from her own room, her makeshift sword in hand.
"Yeah, Bobby, we're okay...I think." Sam frowned and motioned over to Dean, who was still suffering through the nighmare. "I think he's having a nightmare."
(Dream sequence, words NOT in italics are Dean's thoughts)
Dean looked around, he was back in the pit where he had been forced to fight Choronzons gladiator-style time and time again. No matter how hard he fought, or how he altered his strategy, he always lost. They always knew where his next punch would land, or which way he would swerve, which usually ended in him being torn painfully limb from limb. He looked around the walls and shivered. He was sure he could still see traces of his own blood speckling the rock. He was dazed, he couldn't fathom how he'd gotten back here...he could have sworn he had just seen Sam, who promised him they were going home.
"No!!" Dean screamed in frustration. I can't be back here, God damn it!! "No!! NOO!!" He fell to his knees and pounded the sandy ground, heartbroken.
"Dean!" He looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Sam, but it wasn't. He was perfect, but ...different. "Dean, let me help you up." The mimick stuck out it's hand.
"No! You're not Sam!! Leave me alone you evil son of a bitch!" Dean rolled onto his butt and crawled away backward.
The mimick turn his head and looked at Dean disapprovingly. "Now, Dean... Let me help you. We'll get out of here, go back to life..." it said, advancing slowly, with a sadistic grin on it's face.
Dean's hand touched the wall behind him, preventing him from retreating further. He used the wall to pull himself to the standing position. "Get back!" he shouted.
"Wake up, Dean." the doppelganger laughed. "This is Hell, there's no getting away from your demons. Face it, you left me. You abandonned me. Yoooou lied to me. Said you 'weren't going anywhere'. Well you did! For FIVE years!"
"Fuck you!" Dean spat. "You're NOT SAM. You don't have the right to lay a guilt-trip on me! FUCK YOU!" Dean looked around for something to defend himself with, but knew all too well that the pit would provide nothing but pain and suffering.
"You're right. Here's what I can do."
As if on cue, two Choronzon appeared from the shadows, one on either side of him. Dean looked down at his shirtless torso, it had spontaneously begun to bleed from a multitude of past injuries. He looked up as the monster on his left lunged at him, he felt his neck loosen. Dean knew this feeling, it was the harbinger of greater pain than anyone should be required to endure. He grabbed his neck with both hands, as if to hold his head on straight.
"You won't break me!" he shouted at the mimick as the beast on his right caught his leg in it's talons. "You'll never win!" With that, Dean turned to the monster holding him and was tossed like a rag doll to the other creature. As it caught him, the Choronzon pulled Dean's arms away from his neck forcefully.
Dean struggled to fight back, but he was nowhere near strong enough, and hadn't been for quite some time. He would have won this fight when he first went to Hell. Two Choronzon were nothing, childsplay. But not after five years...
The monster held Dean up by his arms and the other creature advanced. Dean let out a blood curdling scream, unsuited for any adult male, as the second creature separated his head from his torso.
As the scream echoed through the chamber, the creature with Sam's visage smirked and said "Won't win, eh? I already have..."
Dean had been screaming non-stop for several minutes. Sam, Bobby, and Ellen had tried everything they knew of to wake him, but nothing had worked.
"Maybe hold his nose and suffocate him a little?" Ellen suggested. Sam and Bobby looked at her, astounded. "What? It worked on Joanna Beth when she was little."
Bobby shrugged. "I guess it's worth a shot. If we don't shut him up the cops are gonna be here in no time."
Sam nodded solemnly and moved toward Dean, but before he laid a hand on him, Dean stopped screaming and fell limp. Sam looked at Dean shocked, and was answered by confused looks when he turned back to the two older hunters. He leaned forward to check for a pulse as a polite knock at the door broke the silence.
Bobby opened the door just a crack to find the petite brunette from the front desk wringing her hands in front of her. "Is everything okay?" she asked meekly. She looked terrified of the answer and must have been asking herself what she was thinking, going to a screaming guest's room unescorted, unprotected.
"Yeah," Bobby said, and opened the door to show her Dean lying on the bed. "He just got back from Afghanistan last week. He went through Hell over there, lost a lot of guys in his unit. Has really bad nightmares. This never-ending fucking war..."
Her eyes grew wide. "Wow," was all she managed to say.
"We'll try to keep him quiet," Ellen said as she maneuvered the girl back out the door and closed it tight behind her.
"Nice cover, Bobby," Sam said quietly. He had found a pulse and could see that Dean was breathing regularly again. "Why don't you guys go try to get some sleep. He seems to be okay for now--"
"We'll sit here with him for a while." Ellen cut him off. "Why don't you go finish your shower."
Sam had never had a mother, but if he had, he assumed losing an argument to her would have gone much like this. He nodded and headed back for the bathroom where the shower was still running.
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Author's Note:
Wow, you know, I'm a lot better at torturing the characters than I am at writing about candy canes and lollypops. And you thought it was going to be all downhill now that they got out of Hell...
Sorry, no spell check this chapter.
Yay! Only a week and a half before we all get real Supernatural stories again and can (temporarily) stop making up our own!!!!
PLEASE REVIEW!!! THANK YOU!!!