We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter Six by asesina
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke.
A/N: Sorry for the delay! I've been a little busy lately . I hope that y'all like this chapter- thanks for the feedback and reviews. I also wanted to preface the upcoming chapters by noting that I attempted to find accurate info online about salting & burning corpses on Supernatural. I just started watching the show a few months ago and I've only seen some of the episodes, but my exposure to the series is far from complete. Let me know if there are any fact checking issues with the supernatural stuff. Thanks!
Enjoy!
"The whole world's broke and it ain't worth fixing
It's time to start all over, make a new beginning
There's too much fighting, too little understanding
It's time to stop and start all over
Make a new beginning"
-Tracy Chapman, "New Beginning"
Dean noted that I-70 wasn't completely desolate as he swerved into the left lane to avoid an 18-wheeler that was drifting towards him.
"Fucking truck drivers," Dean muttered as he flipped off the driver and pulled back into the middle lane.
He glanced over at Sam and noticed that his brother's head was leaning on the window. Sam's posture was lax and his eyes were most likely shut, but Dean didn't have enough time to study his brother's sleeping habits.
Dean turned his eyes back to the road and squinted into the darkness of the night. It had to be past 7 by now, he thought. Dean stifled a yawn and shook his head to chase away the heavy hands of tiredness that pulled at his consciousness.
It was going to be a long night.
Dean didn't know where the hell he was driving, but he knew that he had to get as far away from Lawrence as possible. That creepy city was one big pile of mangled memories and post-apocalyptic drama that he would prefer to avoid at the moment.
Dean couldn't help but let his thoughts drift back to Castiel's words.
"I'm supposed to save the world again? How the hell am I supposed to clean up the mess that Lucifer and Michael made?" Dean asked himself. He let the thought pass over him as he pressed down hard on the accelerator and sped up to 90 mph.
He looked over at Sam again and felt a pang of regret when he watched his little brother stir in his sleep.
Dean hadn't told Sam that he could remember more and more of that fateful week when the Winchester brothers said yes to Lucifer and Michael and subsequently destroyed the world.
He could feel Michael's angelic blood coursing through his veins, and he winced as he recalled the righteous anger that burned his heart when the archangel in his body first laid eyes on Lucifer.
Dean knew that he was a separate being, but he truly understood Michael's rage. He wanted to avenge all of the fallen angels and countless human lives that Lucifer had destroyed in centuries past.
Dean remembered willingly offering his body to Michael without even blinking an eye when the archangel turned to Sam and brandished his sword.
He didn't turn away as Michael destroyed Lucifer and vanquished the evil that they had feared for so long. Dean didn't see his little brother get stabbed by Michael's heavenly weapon. He saw Lucifer's demise instead, although the king of hell and his brother were interchangeable by that point.
Dean saw a final, glorious image as the archangel raised his sword to the sky and bowed his head in the setting sun. The world was awash with golden light, and Dean knew that the apocalypse was ending with the dying of that long, fateful day.
Dean was forcefully pulled from his reverie when he heard a quiet, panicked cry come from Sam's direction.
"Sam?" Dean called. He glanced over worriedly and noticed that Sam's brow was furrowed. He had broken out in a sweat, and his forehead glistened when they passed under a street light.
"No," Sam said softly.
Dean looked for a place to pull over, but there wasn't enough room on the shoulder on that strip of highway.
"Damn it," Dean muttered as he tried desperately to keep his eyes on the road, flicking his eyes to the right every once in a while to check on Sam.
"I won't do it!" Sam yelled. Dean's heart jumped and he almost swerved into the left lane again.
"Sammy! Wake up, man," Dean yelled, giving Sam a quick shove to his left shoulder.
Sam's head fell forward and he took in a sharp breath as his eyes flew open at last.
"Leave me alone!" Sam screamed. He glanced over at Dean and slowly realized that he was still in the Impala. Sam breathed heavily as he leaned back into his seat and blinked bewilderedly a few times.
"Sam, what the hell happened?" Dean asked with concern.
Sam opened his mouth to answer Dean, but he paused for a moment.
"Dean, where are we going?" Sam demanded.
"Hey, hey, I asked the first question," Dean said with a frown. Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead as he exhaled and tried to hide the pain in his voice.
"Well, I- I just remembered something, I guess," Sam began.
Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, throwing Sam a knowing glare as he increased the car's speed to a steady 95 mph.
"Remembered what?" Dean prodded. Sam frowned nervously and looked down at the floor.
"Um, when I was Lucifer," Sam answered in a small voice. Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He certainly didn't expect Sam to admit that so soon.
"Sammy, if you don't want to talk about it, forget it," Dean said in a softer voice. He felt for the radio dial and turned on the classic rock station.
"Stairway to Heaven" was on.
Dean turned up the volume, but Sam quickly shut it off.
"Dean, I remember why I did it, or at least some of the reasons," Sam continued. Dean continued to focus on the road, but Sam could sense the tension in the Impala.
"I want to tell you, Dean. That wasn't me back there. I can say sorry until my face turns blue, but it won't do us any good. I think that you have to know the reason why I—," Sam said with conviction.
Dean gave Sam a short nod. He knew that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear, but he knew that it would make Sam feel better.
"Dean, I- man, I don't know where to begin. I just felt like I was beyond all fixing," Sam said.
"I just gave in to the inevitability of it. I heard Lucifer's whispers and lies, and they were obviously untrue at first. After a while, they started to make sense," Sam continued.
"Sam, Lucifer should be glad he's dead. If I knew what he had been doing this whole time, I wouldn't have needed Michael to kick his sorry ass," Dean said in a dangerous voice.
Sam's eyes shone with appreciative tears, but he quickly blinked them away.
"Dean, there was nothing you could've done. We were both pushing each other away, and we thought that separation would be better for us," Sam continued.
"I know about that part, Sam. Why were you yelling a little while ago?" Dean asked with curiosity.
"I thought I still had time to say no to Lucifer," Sam said quietly.
Dean regretted asking Sam about his nightmare, but he motioned for Sam to continue.
"Lucifer told me plenty of things about you, Dean. He said that you didn't trust me and that you had already given up on me. He said that if the one person who used to trust me no longer did, I was completely corrupt," Sam said softly.
Dean felt his fist clench as he took a shuddering breath and chewed on his lip.
"Sam, you should've told me that Lucifer was making up all this evil pillow talk," Dean said. His voice was low and intense, and Sam was almost afraid when he heard his brother speak.
"Dean, I thought that I was too far gone. Lucifer also threatened to kill you and everyone else around me if I didn't give in to my true nature," Sam admitted.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Dean longed to end the awkward silence with some more Led Zeppelin or AC/DC, but he knew that Sam still needed this.
"Listen, Sam," Dean began.
Sam's eyes were transfixed on his brother as he awaited Dean's words like they were from heaven itself.
"We've got to stop for the night," Dean said gruffly. Sam's face fell when he realized that Dean wasn't quite ready to talk about their experiences as meat puppets quite yet.
"There's gotta be a place in Lincoln where we can stop for the night," Dean said.
He turned onto US-75 and looked for signs for Lincoln as they sped down the highway.
Dean cracked open his window an inch and breathed in the sweet, cool November air. There was something distinctly refreshing about the sharp, cold autumn air that blew in the window and curled around the previously warm car.
"Dean, shut the window," Sam groaned. He huddled deeper into his jacket and folded his arms to trap in the remaining warmth that his coat could provide.
Dean grumbled as he rolled up the window and turned up the heat until the Impala felt like an oven.
Sam had always liked the warmth.
When they arrived in Lincoln, Nebraska, it was nearly 10:30 pm.
Dean dragged in two duffel bags full of clothes and supplies, and he also managed to half-drag Sam down the hallway to their tiny motel room.
Sam collapsed onto the bed and was out like a light.
Dean wasn't so lucky.
He quickly set out salt lines across the door and windows, and he tucked a glock under his pillow for safe measure.
Dean spent the next several hours pacing the room and turning his weapon on every shadow and cockroach that dared cross his path.
By 2 am, Dean was too exhausted to stand guard anymore.
He silently prayed for protection from any wandering spirits that might be trailing Sam in hopes of getting revenge.
Dean fell asleep at 2:30, and he could've sworn that he heard the rustle of angel wings outside their door as his eyes closed.
Sam woke up at 7 am feeling surprisingly refreshed and awake. He looked over at Dean and frowned at the sunken cheekbones and dark circles under his brother's eyes.
Why hadn't he noticed them before?
Sam slipped out of the bedroom and went downstairs to grab a bagel and some water. He brought up some extra donuts for Dean and laid them on the table by the bed.
He took a quick shower and put on an old hoodie and a faded pair of blue jeans that he found in one of the duffel bags.
Sam sighed as he took a bite of the bagel and glanced over at Dean again.
He didn't know what Dean had planned, but he was sure that it wasn't a scenic tour of the Midwest.
Dean was roused from his slumber by the sound of Sam talking quietly to someone.
Dean's eyes flew open and he saw that Sam wasn't on his cell phone.
He had his hand on the window and was staring absentmindedly into the early morning light.
"I'll do it, Lydia," Sam said quietly.
Dean raised an eyebrow as he strained to hear Sam's conversation.
"I'll send them all home," Sam added quietly.
He turned around and was surprised to see that Dean was already awake.
"Dean! What are you doing up, man?" Sam asked cautiously.
Dean blinked for a moment and pursed his lips.
"Yeah, I couldn't really sleep," he mumbled as he stretched and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Dean, why don't you clean up and have some of those donuts? You look like crap," Sam added with a hint of concern.
Dean frowned at Sam's comment as he shuffled towards the bathroom and blinked his eyes tiredly.
What the hell was Sam up to now?
Dean got ready and emerged from the bathroom 10 minutes later. He dropped into a chair and ate half of a donut before feeling around for his cell phone.
"What are you looking for?" Sam asked.
"My phone," Dean said as he pulled open drawers and rifled through his duffel bag.
"Are you in a rush to go somewhere?" Sam prodded as Dean stood up and continued searching.
"Yeah, actually. We're going to Cheyenne," Dean said with a quick grin as he finally found his phone on the bed.
"Wait- what?" Sam asked quickly.
"We're going to Cheyenne, Sam. Simple as that. We've got a lot of work to do, and I'd bet that Cheyenne is crawling with spirits if we had our big showdown there," Dean replied.
"We can't treat this like a regular salt and burn, Dean. This is the apocalypse! I killed all of those people," Sam added softly.
"Doesn't matter. We're torching those corpses before the spirits can cause any mayhem freak out any of the locals," Dean said.
"Wait, Dean. What part of my redemption story didn't you understand? I have to banish those spirits with physical contact, not by getting rid of their bodies," Sam said, hearing a hint of anger rising into his voice.
"And what, you want to let all of them give you some kind of freaky vision and phantom scarring? Forget it, Sam," Dean said firmly.
"This is my only chance, Dean," Sam said bitterly.
"What the hell do you mean, Sammy?" Dean demanded.
"I gave in before, Dean. I thought it was inevitable that I was going to become evil, to be Lucifer's vessel. I was, but—we both survived. It was a miracle, Dean. Aren't you thankful for second chances?" Sam said. His voice shook slightly with emotion, but Dean stared him directly in the eyes and shook his head.
"Sam, you did give in. You did screw up. Maybe I did too. I just know that you're back with me and I'm not gonna lose you to some destiny-fulfilling bullshit again. You're destroying yourself, Sam! You don't have to be a martyr," Dean said with force.
Sam looked away for a moment.
When he turned back to Dean, a few tears were visible in the corners of his hazel eyes.
"Oh, yeah? Then how am I supposed to be good enough? How will I get into heaven or the elysian fields or whatever else is up there, Dean? Lydia told me that I have to wander the earth, Dean. I have to experience pain. I have to be restless. I won't be good enough until I have set them all free," Sam said, letting his voice fall to just above a whisper.
"Sam, you're giving in! Don't listen to that shit, man. We can work together to set these souls free, but we can't do it if you're going to lie back and let these angels and spirits walk all over you!" Dean shouted, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder as he stared his brother directly in the eyes.
"Dean, maybe reuniting wasn't such a good idea. I can't disobey the angel," Sam said quietly.
Dean's mouth fell open but no words escaped.
He heaved a sigh and turned away from Sam as he began to pack up their things.
"Sam, I'm going to ask you to come with me one last time. If you want to help restore peace to this earth, just come with me and try this out. If it doesn't work, you can travel the world for an eternity and whip yourself every time you remember one of your sins," Dean said firmly.
Sam did not speak for the rest of the morning, but he reluctantly climbed into the Impala as he and Dean began the 6 ½ hour journey to Cheyenne.
Sam tried his best to ignore the nagging voice in his head that seemed to scream,
"You're doing it the wrong way, Sam! You'll pay for this!"
TBC…
A/n: let me know what you think!