We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 5 by asesina
Standard disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It's the property of Kripke & Co.
A/n: Thanks for the feedback. I hope that you like this chapter! We'll learn a bit more about the post-apocalyptic journey of Sam and Dean.
"Out of the blue and into the black
They give you this but you pay for that
And once you're gone
You can never come back
When you're out of the blue
And into the black"
-Neil Young, "Hey Hey, My My"
Dean stared in horror as the ghost boy pierced Sam's forehead with a spindly finger.
"Sam!" he shouted.
"Get away, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean screamed as he tried desperately to dispel the ghost by slicing the kitchen knife through its grey, semi-transparent body.
His attempts were futile. Dean remembered Castiel's words and grimaced as he wiped his hand over his bloody forearm.
"This better work," he muttered as he thrust a bloody hand through the ghost boy's head.
The ghost boy turned to looked at Dean with a flash of annoyance.
"Leave us alone, you bastard," the boy hissed. He pressed all of his fingers to Sam's face and Dean was reminded of the Vulcan mind-meld.
"Get away from my brother! What are you doing to him?" Dean cried as he tried to get between the ghost and Sam yet again.
"Didn't I warn you?" the boy whispered in an ominous tone. He threw Dean to the ground with a simple motion of his hand.
"Stay," he commanded.
Dean tried in vain to move his limbs, but he was completely paralyzed.
He strained to see Sam's face, but the table obscured his vision of his brother.
He could see Sam's legs from under the table, but he didn't appear to be moving at all.
Was Sam in a fucking trance?
This was just great.
Dean could hear the boy whispering to Sam in a cold, sibilant voice. He shuddered as the boy began to chant a repetitive, almost sing-song mantra as he drew Sam further and further away from reality.
"You killed me. You killed me. You killed me," the boy repeated, eyes blazing with fury as he curled his fingers around Sam's neck.
"Can you fell it, hell spawn?" the boy hissed as he throttled Sam.
Dean heard a Sam emit a strangled cry as the ghost boy deprived him of air.
"Sammy!" he shouted.
"How the hell am I supposed to use my blood?" he screamed, trying to distract the ghost and pull Sam from his trance.
"Foolish bastard. Your blood is useless. I've already got a hold of your demon spawn brother," the ghost laughed.
He turned his attention back to Sam as he slipped his cold hands around Sam's neck yet again.
"This is what it felt like when you murdered my brother!" the boy yelled.
Sam let out another pained scream. Dean winced as he heard the boy continue to berate his helpless brother.
"This is what it felt like when you cut off my head!" he shouted.
Sam felt a white-hot pain shoot through his neck. It almost jolted him from his trance, but he was still captive to the ghost boy's torture.
"This is what it felt like when you killed my baby brother, you piece of filth!" cried the ghost boy. Dean could've sworn that the spirit was sobbing, but that was the least of his worries. He had to get to Sam.
Sam was visibly shaking now. Even though Dean couldn't see his brother's face, he could see Sam's body trembling as the ghost shook him repeatedly.
"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted.
"I can't!" the ghost replied in a choked voice.
"Haven't you gotten your revenge?" Dean asked. He felt his own heart beating out his chest as he imagined Sam's physical and mental anguish.
"I- I-," the ghost trailed off. He let his hands fall from Sam's neck as he quietly floated backwards.
"I did get my revenge. I searched for Lucifer's vessel for so long, and now I've defeated him," the boy whispered as his smoky outline glowed and his human form began to dissipate.
"I'm coming, mommy," the boy said as he disappeared with a flash of white light.
Dean was mobile in an instant. He flew to Sam's side and frantically felt for a pulse as he put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Sammy, can you hear me?" Dean asked worriedly. He was relieved when he finally felt a faint pulse in Sam's neck.
"D-Dean?" Sam asked weakly. His eyelids fluttered open and he blinked blearily as he looked around the dimly-lit room.
"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked worriedly as he searched for a light switch in the dark kitchen.
He finally found one behind Sam and he promptly flicked it on.
"I- I think I'm fine, Dean. I just don't know what the hell just happened," Sam said as he attempted to sit up. He was promptly stopped with Dean's firm grip on his shoulder, and Sam gladly sat back down.
"Seems like freaky ghost kids and scary spirit bitches are after you," Dean said. Sam shrugged his shoulders and winced at the pain in his neck.
"Sammy, you shouldn't move," Dean said with concern. Sam nodded.
"I think that I killed that kid, too," Sam said quietly.
"Sam, I know that it wasn't you who killed all those people. It was Lucifer," Dean said in a weak attempt to comfort his brother.
"Yeah, but I gave in. I destroyed the world," Sam said as he slumped his shoulders and leaned further back into the wooden chair.
"Yeah, and we can clean up the mess together. Look at you- you're in pretty damn good shape for having been the freakin' devil a few days ago," Dean said with a smile.
Sam didn't return the grin, but he smiled inwardly with appreciation.
Dean could always make things seem like less of a big deal, even if they were the apocalypse.
"Dean?" Sam asked timidly.
"What's up, Sam?" Dean asked. He pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down next to his brother.
"I felt their deaths, Dean," Sam said softly.
"What do you mean?" Dean countered in a curious tone.
"Well, I felt this kind of searing pain when the ghost showed me how I had decapitated him and his family. It felt like I was dying, like I couldn't breathe," Sam said softly.
"Yeah, and we're gonna make sure that it won't happen again," Dean said reassuringly.
"No, I don't think I can avoid it," Sam replied.
"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean asked worriedly.
"Well, my angel—," Sam began.
"Your angel? This heavenly broad got a name?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Lydia," Sam answered quietly.
"Sounds like an old cat lady," Dean said with a smirk.
"No, she wasn't. Dean, just listen. She said that I would have to suffer the pain of everyone that I killed while I was Lucifer's vessel. I can't avoid it, Dean. I have to make up for everything," Sam said with resignation.
"Sammy, I didn't know," Dean said quietly.
"There's nothing we can do about it, Dean," Sam replied.
"You're going to let some angel tell you what to do? Haven't we been controlled long enough by heaven and hell?" Dean asked angrily. Something inside of him snapped. There was no way that he was going to let his brother get tortured for an eternity.
It didn't matter what he had done. He was still Dean's little brother.
"Dean, it has to be this way," Sam said with downcast eyes.
"No way, Sam. You're going to teach me how to use my blood to ward off these apocalyptic spirits," he said with a warning glare.
Sam shook his head.
"Dean, I don't know if it'll work. I can't keep using your blood to make up for my wrongdoings," Sam said.
"I thought we were done with the blood foreplay after Ruby, but I guess we'll have to use Michael's blood to get us out of this mess," Dean mused.
"By the way, Sam… I did try to use my blood before," Dean admitted.
"What did you do?" Sam asked in a small voice.
"I cut myself, Sam. I tried to touch the spirit directly, but it didn't work. He was already trying to choke you to death," Dean admitted.
Sam's eyes widened in surprise. Dean thought that he saw the glint of a tear in the corner of Sam's eye, but it was probably just the light.
"Dean, you didn't have to do that," Sam said quietly.
"Sammy, that thing was about to kill you," Dean replied matter-of-factly.
He stood up and headed towards the fridge.
"You want anything? A Guinness would hit the spot right about now," Dean said as he pulled open the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer.
"Sure," Sam said.
Dean came back to the table and placed a bottle down in front of Sam. He twisted off the cap and took a long drink from the bottle as he leaned back and put his feet on the chair across from him.
"Sam, you've gotta show me how to ward these things off. I won't let 'em come after you anymore," Dean said suddenly. He stared directly into Sam's eyes, but Sam was avoiding his gaze.
"No, Dean. I won't let you do this again," he said softly.
"Do what?" Dean asked in surprise.
"Sacrifice everything for me! You don't have to injure yourself just so I can avoid punishment that I deserve," Sam replied angrily.
"Sammy, we're in this together. If I have the ability to set these spirits free without forcing you to suffer like that, I'm all for it. It's just a flesh wound," he said with a grin as he glanced down at the gash on his arm.
"Dean, that doesn't look good," Sam said with concern.
"It's fine, Sam," Dean replied. He took another sip of Guinness before turning back to look at Sam again.
"Now tell me how you got rid of that first spirit that attacked us here," Dean prodded, examining Sam's expression as his brother looked away uncomfortably.
"I just took some of your blood and rushed at the spirit. I had to use this Latin incantation, too," Sam added.
"Where'd you learn it?" Dean asked with curiosity.
"Well, Lydia told me that I should say something like requiscas in pace aeterna. Volas, phasma phasmatis when I encounter a spirit that I have wronged in the past," Sam answered.
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. Sam frowned for a moment as he tried to think of a suitable translation.
"It basically means 'rest in eternal peace. Fly home, spirit'," Sam replied.
"That's it?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Yeah, Dean. It seems simple enough. I just knew that I had to do something at that moment or you would've—," he paused, thinking about the terrible possibilities.
"Yeah, and I didn't, thanks to you," Dean said with a smile.
"Let's hope we never have to do that again," Sam said. He opened his Guinness and took a drink, surprised to find that the beer was cold and relatively fresh.
"So, where do we go from here, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.
"Wherever we want," Dean answered with a grin.
"It isn't that easy, Dean. I can't just pack up and move on from town to town like you can. I have to spend years hunting down the spirits of the people I wronged. I have to experience each death until they're all free. That could take an eternity, Dean," Sam said softly.
"You don't have to do anything, Sam. You've been listening to too many angels," Dean scoffed.
"Yeah, and maybe you've been listening to too many humans, Dean. Free will isn't all it's cracked up to be. You've bought into the notion that you can escape any fate and do whatever you want. I'm trapped, Dean!" Sam shouted, bringing a hand to his temple to ward off an impending headache.
"OK, Sammy, so you've accepted your fate. That's perfectly fine if you want to suffer for an eternity before you can find any peace. I just wanted to let you know that you're not alone on this road, man. I can help you out," Dean said. He stood up and went to clean out his wound in the sink.
Sam followed suit and stretched out his arms. He put down the Guinness bottle and walked over to Dean.
"I'm leaving, Dean. I don't have time to waste. The sooner I find all of those damn spirits, the better. You don't have to waste your blood, Dean. Find another way to save the world," Sam said quietly.
He turned away from his brother and headed for the front door.
"Sam, don't you walk out that door!" Dean called.
He heard the front door slam and he quickly finished washing the blood off his arm.
"Come on, Sammy," he muttered as he made sure that he had his gun and Guinness with him.
Dean bolted down the hallway and stopped when he saw Sam walking down the sidewalk towards the main road.
"Sam!" he called.
Sam didn't acknowledge him.
Dean ran up to the Impala and jumped into the driver's seat. He fumbled around for his keys and jammed them into the ignition.
He impatiently waited for the engine to turn over as he pulled away from the curb and sped up to follow Sam.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled. He pulled the car up next to Sam and motioned for him to get in the car.
"Dean, I already told you. The answer is no," Sam said through gritted teeth.
"At least let me give you a ride," Dean said in an annoyed voice. Sam resigned and climbed in the car. Dean sped away from their house and headed straight for I-70.
He never looked back.
Sam folded his arms and looked out the passenger window.
"We're almost at the highway, you know," Sam said quietly.
"Yep, and you're stayin' in the car," Dean said firmly.
"Where the hell are we going, Dean?" Sam demanded.
"I don't know, Sam, but I do know one thing- we're getting the hell out of Lawrence," Dean said as he turned onto I-70 and braced himself for any invisible barriers that might still be trapping them in their hometown.
Dean was pleased to find a distinct lack of glass walls as he sped down the deserted highway into the dark, boundless night.
TBC…
A/n: Let me know what you thought!