A/N: If you gross out easily, just be forewarned there's blood in this chapter.
Reply to Insert Name Here's questions: First, thanks for the input. It's a lot more fun writing with reviews. And yes, I know, awful cliffhangers. I've had an awful lot of fun with the twists in this one. lol I don't know how long this will be exactly, but my doc on my computer full of planning and scene fragments is already at 30,000 words, with plenty more plot left to fill out. And I'm playing with the idea of a sequel to this, too. Yes, Sam's very cold to Dean in this, since he's extremely frustrated with his behavior (trying to kill the Doctor and Canton, just for being annoying!) and willing to do whatever he believes it will take to bring him back. He does love his brother and wants what's best, which in his experience is not being a demon, for starters. Except...Dean has other ideas. (If you haven't guessed, I loved Demon!Dean and wanted to write something with him in it.) This chapter also marks quite a turning point in the story. I hope you enjoy.
...
The Doctor caught Sam as he fell, grabbing him by the shoulders to lower him gently to the floor.
The Time Lord probed Sam's neck frantically for a pulse. Not finding one, he pulled out the sonic and began scanning him up and down, mind racing to figure out what was happening as the readings warbled and blipped out in front of him.
"No, no….no, that can't be right. That's impossible," he muttered, giving the screwdriver a whack with his hand. "Alive, dead, alive, dead... Pick one! This is impossible…." He studied it a bit more. "No, no, not impossible. Only in my universe. Different universe, different rules. Augh! I'm thick, much too thick for this… different rules…. Why don't the different universes come with a manual?!"
He looked up when he heard a noise, a cough from the chair Dean sat.
"Oh, good, good, at least you're still with us," The Doctor murmured, scratching his head as he put the sonic away. "Good, alive Dean…or…Demon Dean….Bad?..."
"Damnit, Sammy," Dean muttered weakly, his eyes peeling open slowly as his fit ended to see his brother lying on the floor. "Goddamnit."
"I'm so, so sorry—" The Doctor began, looking from Dean to Sam where he lay crumpled on the floor.
"Cut to the chase." Dean interrupted bitterly, spitting a frothy mixture of saliva and blood over his shoulder from the convulsions, stretching away the spasming of his jaw as he spoke. "He's dying. Because of me."
"That's a bit of a harsh way of putting it, but—"
"Yeah, no. He's dying, and he's gonna be completely gone in a couple minutes, let alone if you try to finish curing me, which you are NOT going to do, do you understand me—"
"No, I wasn't going to suggest that," The Doctor said softly, his voice earnest.
"Oh, so what's your big plan, huh?" Dean snarked, heavy lines forming around his nose as he frowned.
"I was truly hoping he'd listen to reason, although that seems to have failed—"
"No shit," Dean replied, "But what then? Huh? You're gonna let him lie there and die and keep me chained up here, for what, exactly?"
"No, no, I have to think. I get so thick sometimes… You're his brother, he's dying from trying to cure you with his blood like the book said, and I probably shouldn't trust you since you're a demon—"
"Yeah, Doc, I'm a wild card, alright," Dean made a face that was as much a grimace as a grin. "But if you let me out of here, I can promise you, I'll do my damnedest to save him. And you can go back to your own little universe, OK? Coz between the two of us, I'm damn sure I'm the one that's closest to knowing what to do."
"Is that so?" The Doctor asked solemnly. "Because per my understanding, demons aren't the most trustworthy—"
"Damnit, let me out!" Dean snapped, his voice turning into a ragged yell. "It's easy. Just use your sonic thing on the cuffs. The bullet's out already, and more importantly, he's dying! You can try calling Cas, but he ain't coming—Hey, Castiel!" Dean shouted. "Got your ears on, you feathered freak? Now would be a helluva time for you to show up!"
The Doctor and Dean looked up for a few moments before Dean scoffed.
"See? He's not coming. It's just you and me now, Time Lord. And there ain't a damned thing you can do. This isn't your universe, doesn't work by your rules, but I know them. And out of anybody here, I'm the one who has a clue how to save him. So let me out!"
"I only hope I don't regret this," The Doctor breathed, casting a glance at Sam as he pulled his Sonic from his jacket pocket, Dean's shackles falling open under its warbling blue pulse.
"You won't." Dean muttered, standing from the chair he had been chained to. "Get the syringe ready," he commanded, which the Doctor obliged, lifting it from the table where Sam had set it, a worried look on his face.
"What are you—" He inquired, but was cut off by Dean's brusque response.
"No time for that! Now, shut up, I've gotta find the artery—" Dean muttered as he stripped off his belt, cinching it around his upper arm to hold it tight in his teeth. "Syringe. Gimme," he muttered past the belt.
The Doctor handed it to him reluctantly, watching as Dean stabbed the needle into his own arm, pulling the plunger to reveal whorls of dark red fluid that gushed to fill it.
"OK, hold that," he told the Doctor, who complied wordlessly, holding the syringe in place in Dean's arm, his eyes betraying the doubt he didn't verbalize.
Dean grabbed the stopper in the syringe, eying the Doctor "Now, hold it tight—" as he yanked it until it came out the back, along with it the trickling stream of Dean's blood as it flowed from his arm.
"Dean—" The Doctor exclaimed, stepping back.
"Shut up, ET," he snapped as he frowned, kneeling over Sam as he held the syringe in his arm with one hand, ineffectually trying to aim the drip of his blood at at his brother's face.
"Shit," Dean muttered. "Get his mouth open!"
"What? Are you sure—"
"Do it!"
The Doctor relented, stooping down, to hold Sam's head so that his mouth was open enough for Dean to direct the trickle of blood into it.
They sat likewise for a moment, the Doctor looking between the two brothers with a concerned gaze.
"What exactly is this supposed to do to him, might I ask?" The Doctor inquired, his voice cautious.
"Don't worry about it," Dean said gruffly, focusing on Sam, who remained pale and motionless in the Doctor's grasp.
"Damn it, Sammy! Come on!" He pleaded, his voice rasping bitterly as he
The noise of a phone ringing from Sam's shirt pocket broke the quiet.
"I'll get that I suppose," The Doctor said as he reached into Sam's pocket with one hand, removing the phone while keeping his head supported with the other arm.
"Hello, this is Sam's phone." The Doctor blurted.
"What? Who is this?" Castiel asked on the other end.
"Ah, Castiel, is it? That's what the caller ID said. Anyways, I'm The Doctor, and he's unavailable. Can I take a message?"
"Doctor? Is Sam with you?" Cas asked.
"Yes, but he's rather unwell at the moment." The Doctor made a face as he spoke, biting his lip.
"What's going on?" Alarm filled Castiel's voice.
"I'm not entirely certain you'd approve," The Doctor said earnestly, shrugging at Dean, who gave him a harsh look.
"Let me speak to Sam," The angel demanded.
"I'm terribly sorry, but he really can't speak, you see-" The Doctor replied, frowning at Dean who shook his head, making an exasperated face.
"Screw this. Put him on speaker with me," Dean snapped.
"Wait, Dean? What's going on—" Cas protested as The Doctor switched it to speaker.
"Sam tried to cure me, no thanks to you for not trying to stop him, you feathered jackass. And now, what do you think? It's completing the trials, and it's killing him," Dean's reply was low, bitter.
"Dean? What are you trying to do?" The angel asked gravely.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm saving him the one way I know how." He replied, his voice raw.
"But the trials, they're irreversible—"
"They're not done yet. They've been taking the 'impurity' out of him and that was killing him. But screw that. I'm not gonna sit back and let him die. I'm putting it back in."
"You mean you're—"
"Yes. Yes, I am. He's getting plenty of demon blood, from me, right now. And I don't give a damn what you think, or what you think you're gonna do, because he is my brother. And he is not dying, not again, not on account of me."
"Dean—"
"Shut up, you son of a bitch. I'm not done. If you try to stop me, I swear, I will kill you—"
"Dean—"
"What, Cas?!" He blurted, face twisting with grief.
"I was calling to tell him," Cas broke off, momentarily, coughing.
"Tell him what?!" Dean shouted.
"That I need his help," Cas choked out.
"You… what?" Dean sputtered.
"I'm dying, Dean."
"Cas—"
"I wish I'd been there, I wish I'd done more. I wish…so many things, Dean, but none of that matters anymore. I wasn't there in time to stop you, or to stop Sam, or…end things if you couldn't be cured. I—I just hope you understand, really, the consequences of what you're doing."
"Well, excuse me for saving my brother's life."
"You are undoing everything we ever fought for. W-What would Bobby, or—or-your father say?"
"Really? You're bringing them into this?" Dean laughed bitterly. "They're not here. They're taking it easy somewhere in that dump your crowd calls a heaven. While I'm down here, trying to deal with this crap fest they left us behind in. So don't you dare tell me what we've fought for. Guess what? I'm still fighting. So what are you going to do about it, if you're so opposed to it? Just lay down and die?"
"I don't have a choice, Dean." Cas said weakly.
"Who do you think you're kidding? There's always a choice. And if I cared anymore, I'd tell say you were making the wrong one. But y'know what? I don't. I don't give a rat's ass what happens to you, Castiel. I truly hope you have a shitty afterlife." Dean spouted derisively into the phone.
"I'm sorry you feel that way." Cas said hoarsely.
"Yeah, sure you are, you douche," Dean snarked.
"Goodbye, Dean." Castiel's voice was hollow, empty. With that, the line clicked off.
"Are you certain this was a wise decision?" The Doctor finally spoke, his voice shifting uneasily as he turned the phone off, replacing it in Sam's pocket with one hand. Dean didn't reply, staring grimly at his dying brother's face instead for a few long moments before looking up at the Time Lord, letting his eyes turn black for shock value, although he was somewhat disappointed to see it lacked the desired effect on the Doctor, who didn't seem to register it at all.
"Shut up, ET. Now here's what's gonna happen," Dean began.
"What makes you so certain I'll be cooperating with you," The Doctor asked. "Clearly even your friends don't condone your actions, and I myself am more than doubtful of your motives—"
"Don't do it for me, then." Dean said gruffly. "Do it for him." Dean nodded at Sam. "Up the stairs, in the closet at the end of the hallway, there's a medical kit. This isn't up for discussion. Put his head in my lap, keeping his mouth open, and go get it."
The Doctor nodded silently, his expression betraying the unease he felt as he did as directed.
"Good. You get it. OK, medical kit, go!" Dean yelled.
The Doctor was back in a minute or so, the kit in hand.
"Open it, get out the needles and the tubing," Dean instructed.
"Why do you have IV tubing? This isn't a hospital—" The Doctor began, but Dean shushed him.
"Fewer questions, more working," he reprimanded. The Doctor did as directed, handing him the needle and tubing.