Chapter 3

During the first hour of the drive back to the bunker, the brother's barely spoke to each other; their brief sentences lacking in substance. Sam sat in the driver's seat and steered the steering wheel with white knuckles, trying to avoid looking over at Dean.

Previously, Sam had woken up on his motel room bed after being decked out from his brother's fist; a purple fist-shaped bruise was decorated on his left jaw. Upon seeing Dean, his anger had risen again and the Mark began to burn brightly. Dean had sat at the table that sat between the front door and their beds watching Sam pensively as he observed the slight physical changes of his brother; Sam's eyes shifting from blue to glowing orange (almost like flames) and the Mark that began to glow through his white long-sleeved shirt. Sam moved quick, rushing his brother, almost knocking over the pizza boxes and beer bottles that littered the table in the process and went on the attack, punching him whenever Dean couldn't deflect. After a minute Sam suddenly just stopped, his fist held in mid-punch, staring into nothing.

"Sam?" Dean called through a split lip.

Sam remained unresponsive. "Sam?" Dean watched as Sam's fist loosened and dropped to his side slowly, still not mentally in the room. Dean's breathing picked up. "Sammy!"

Sam blinked slowly, then shook his head side to side with a small frown and gasped. It was like he was seeing his brother's beaten face for the first time. He realised he was the culprit, the one that had inflicted the beatings upon his brother. Sam took a few steps away from him with glassy eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I-I just blacked out. I don't even remember doing this to you!"

"It's okay, Sam."

Sam brows creased together. "No! No it's not!" He replied adamantly.

'Talk about give someone whiplash!' Dean had thought at the time, totally sore in the face and mid section. Sam wouldn't look at him after that.

Dean had given the car keys to Sam, who had taken them with apprehension. He thought it would be good for his brother to be mentally occupied so he'd have fewer things to worry about other than just getting them home safely. Dean tried to relax himself after taking a couple of pain relievers in the passenger seat thinking about his time possessed by the Mark. He realised that Sam seemed to fold under the Mark's power much quicker and easier than he had done. This wasn't good. He needed to train his brother otherwise he'd sink further into its corruption and murder everyone in his sight.

Dean cleared his throat and took a quick look at his brother's face. "Hey, Sam?"

Sam kept his eyes on the road as he answered. "Yeah?"

"I was thinking... when I first had the Mark, it didn't affect me as much as it does you."

"I know." Sam continued to keep his gaze on the road.

"I don't know why, all I know is that it's dangerous. For you, me and others – we gotta find a way for you to reign it in somehow 'cause you seem to go off at the drop of a hat!" Dean chuckled nervously.

Sam frowned and took a quick glance at Dean. "How?

Dean sighed. "See, I can tell you're already annoyed."

Sam breathed deeply. "Look, I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. It was uncalled for. I shouldn't have wailed on you like that when you were just trying to help me."

"So you remember?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam replied. "Just snippets here and there of feelings; betrayal is what I felt the most and anger fuelled it." Dean nodded knowingly. "I remember you knocking me out when I was freaking out on you, so I more or less put two and two together." Sam took his eyes away from the road to look at Dean with honest eyes. "I'm sorry."

Dean huffed loudly without sarcasm, but with sadness. "Yeah, you've already said that. All's forgiven okay." Sam nodded small and his jaw jerked from side to side with emotion. Dean looked at Sam. "Earlier, when you wailed out on me, you just… stopped like someone turned off a switch. You blanked out on me." Dean frowned. "Where'd you go?"

Dean watched as his brother's shoulders tensed. "What do you mean?"

Dean could see him clamming up. "Don't Sammy, you know what I mean. Your eyes – you looked like you were gone."

"I –."

Dean sat up straighter in the passenger seat, waiting for his brother's explanation.

"It was Lucifer. He stopped me."

"What?" Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut again, his surprised voice coming out as a whoosh.

Sam sniffed dryly. "Lucifer knows how to help me with it."

Dean was dumbfounded. "Oh. So now you're taking advice from the Prince of friggin' Darkness?" Dean almost shouted. This was absolutely over him.

"It's not like that Dean!"

"Then how is it Sam? Enlighten me!" Dean's heart was pounding. He knew he shouldn't be angry but old habits die hard; that was how he dealt with bad news.

"There's a lot you don't know. Too much for me to explain to you right now." Sam sighed. "The Devil doesn't lie Dean; when he says he's trying to help me - he means it. He has way more knowledge than I do about this, even more than you and Cain put together. I can't let it become a burden for you Dean."

"And so Lucifer is your go-to guy now? Give me a break Sam. You should know better than anyone else he's full of it." Dean was fully twisted round in his seat his full attention on his brother. "He's trying to get into your head Sammy, trying to convince you that all you have is him and it's working!"

Sam took the first car-park that he could see; a closed SuperMart with the lights on for morning cleaners and workers, their cars all parked in a row, the front doors to the store shut with a "not open" sign stuck upon the glass for morning customers with a seat place before it. A middle aged couple stood outside waiting, the guy staring at his watch; probably watching the seconds tick by.

Turning off the ignition Sam took deep steady breaths to calm his anger as he rubbed at the Mark.

"I've told you already, he can already get into my head. And besides I didn't ask for him to help me Dean, he just does. I don't have a choice in this."

Dean blew out air from his mouth loudly and shook his head. "Shit I'm sorry Sam. I'm just worried okay. I know you don't have any control of what he does."

Sam watched as the front doors to the SuperMart opened and a uniformed man dressed in the store's bold red colour came out to remove the seat. The couple quickly walked inside.

Dean looked out through the windshield unseeingly. He thought about how his brother's eye colour had changed that night. "Lucifer has done something else to you, I'm sure of it."

Sam head turned to the right to look at Dean. "What do you mean?"

"Your eyes, they changed colour, Sam. That only happened to me when I died and came back a Demon." Dean's throat clogged up as he saw the flicker of fear in his brother's eyes.

"No, God… Damn-it no!" Sam punched the steering wheel. This was going from very bad to worse. The brothers sat there breathing loudly. Other cars began to pull into the parking lot; the occupants walking away from their vehicles and disappearing behind the store front doors.

Sam broke the silence. "I'm tired Dean." Dean turned to look at his brother. His eyes were full and his lips were pressed together. "Tired of my life revolving around what others want me to become. Hell… Heaven. And the worst part is I don't see an end to it." Sam blew a weary sigh.

Dean didn't know what to say to that. Instead he placed a strong comforting hand upon his shoulder blades and remained silent.

...

Sam sat at his bedroom desk, reading downloaded scripture on his laptop. His door stood slightly ajar, enough for Dean to see him working at his desk. Dean knocked thrice and could just about see Sam's head swivel towards the sound. "Come in." Sam called.

Dean pushed the door further open and walked inside.

A small encouraging smile played at the corner of Dean's lips as he treaded towards his brother with manly swagger. Sam felt a sudden pang of irritation; a sudden dark urge struck him to go up to Dean and rip the stupid smile off of his face. The images of that scene played out before his eyes and Dean's deep voice interrupted them and brought him back to reality. 'Shit! What the hell?'

"The Devil may have his ways, but I've got mine." Sam frowned and looked at a few sheets of print paper held in his brother's hand. Dean placed them before him on top of his laptop keyboard.

"What's this?" Sam asked curiously staring at his brother's scrawl in blue ink.

"This, my brother, is a "How to and not to do" list on how I dealt with the Mark. Also this," Dean pulled a piece of paper behind the first and placed it under Sam's nose. "is a list of the things that you may go through. From nightmares, to mental strain, anything I could remember from what Iwent through to help you figure it out for yourself."

Sam looked at his brother in surprise. "Wow. Thanks Dean." He could still imagine the image of ripping his brother's face off. He blinked a few more to times to get rid of it.

Dean stared at the paper. "It's my pleasure." Sam looked down at his lap.

"I know this must be difficult for you. It wasn't that long ago you had to deal with this curse and now you have to watch me turn into—."

Dean shook his head. "Don't. We're gonna do whatever it takes to not let it go down that road. We can't let that happen, understand me?" Dean pressed staring unwaveringly into his brothers eyes. Sam nodded.

Dean took a step back, satisfied. "Good." He walked away and closed the door behind him.

...

Sam stayed up 'till the early hours of the morning reading and contemplating what his brother had written for him. Dean had put a lot of effort and detail into his experience with the Mark; it was almost like Sam had written it himself. Dean knew how his mind worked and was grateful for his brother effort.

That evening he noticed a restlessness as though he was on a constant high on caffeine. He could feel it coursing in his veins. The bruise that Dean had given him many hours earlier was completely healed as though it was never there to begin with. Dean had written down in note form that the Mark was good at healing. Sam analysed every emotion to each thought that popped into his head. It was exhausting but yet he was wired and compared them to the notes, typing up his own in a Word document labelled "The Mark".

Sam pushed himself from out of his seat and stretched, stepped away from his desk and laid out on his back on his bed. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he tried to empty his mind and calm his body. The buzz didn't lesson. In fact noticing it made its feeling grow evermore nagging.

Sam sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Tugging on the strands he contemplated resorting to the family doctor – alcohol. He gave in. Going into one of his drawers, he found his safe keeping whisky and began pouring himself four neat shots of loose handed whiskey using the glass he always kept with it. He knocked each one back and then slumped back onto his bed and concentrated on his breathing again. He could feel its heat burning down his oesophagus. His body finally relaxed as the alcohol began to take effect.

Afterwards, he nodded off, his head resting in the crook of his arm as he slept deeply on his bed.

.

Lucifer stood over The Darkness, his magnificent true form glowing bright, his shine pushing her Darkness down into the Earth itself. All around was loud, like thunder but much louder, the air full of static electricity. Michael, Gabriel and many other Angels from other garrisons stood behind in their true forms, their fierce Grace helping their brother defeat the Darkness. She was strong; Lucifer could feel it with every pulse of his Grace he sent forth. In his hand he held a sword, made from the Grace of his Father, his own and with a piece of the Universe. It was the most brilliant thing to look at. Holding out his sword, with one final pulse, Lucifer held the sword with both "hands" by the handle tight and struck her straight through the heart. Instantly he could feel her pain of betrayal as he was connected to her; the Mark imprinted onto his Grace. But for his Father to complete his Creation, he had to do what needed to be done. He loved his Father most.

As the sword struck her in her she screamed loud, louder than anything to be ever heard. It vibrated throughout the Angels and struck them to their core. After all, she was a part of God as he was a part of Her. The loudness quietened but the electrical buzz remained.

She disappeared before them. Lucifer wilted. Michael rushed over to hold onto his brother, trying to heal him even though he was exhausted himself. Lucifer cried, screaming a feral scream.

Dean's brain woke him up at an ungodly hour of the morning from its buzzing stress from daily thoughts that invaded his dreams about the things he had done when he had the Mark; the worry about how to deal with the problem of Amara and their "connection" and the obvious one; that his brother would have to deal with the same corruption that he had gone through but with the real Lucifer whispering in his ear. How was he going to protect him from this this time? Dean was mentally exhausted; it was a wonder how he hadn't blown his own brains out – maybe if he had years ago after Sam's (first) death, none of this mess would have happened.

It had been a while since he had the Mark, but he could remember how each moment felt; how difficult is was to compartmentalise every emotion - how they all slowly seemed to diminish until all that was left was deep seated hatred for himself, his brother and the world. He also almost murdered Sam twice and beat Castiel to an inch of his life. They were the most despicable things he had ever done throughout that time. He couldn't forgive himself and he didn't want forgiveness.

It was Lunchtime and the brother's decided (Dean instigated) to go out for lunch instead. Stepping into a pizza restaurant, Sam and Dean took the large cubical seats by the window. A young female waitress named "Amber" (her name written on sticker and placed upon her clothes upon her breast) handed them each a menu,which Dean instantly buried his nose into. They ordered garlic bread and chilli wedges, a medium Vegetarian pizza for Sam and a large Meat Lover's Pizza with cheese filled crusts for Dean (which Sam turned his nose in disgust) with a litre bottle of water and beer for Dean.

Sam's leg bounced up and down frantically under the table and after waiting ten minutes for their starters on a grumbling stomach, in his annoyance, Dean kicked him in the shin.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Dean looked at him flatly, placing his empty beer bottle on the table after finishing it off. Dean couldn't believe that Sam had the nerve to be angry.

"If you need to go to the toilet, go already!" Dean whispered angrily.

Sam frowned. "I don't need to go to the toilet Dean."

Dean huffed angrily. "Then what's with the nee?"

Amber the waitress arrived with their garlic bread and wedges and placed them on the table. Dean ordered another beer.

"I'm just restless. Didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Well try to stop. You're bugging me out here." Dean stuffed placed a few wedges on a slice of garlic bread and rolled its edges, trying to eat it like mini sandwich.

Dean's voice deepened from as he spoke with his mouth full. "What did you dream about last night?"

Sam turned his head to the side then looked around the restaurant. A trio of two young women and a male sat afar munching on their meals, the sound of their voices a hum. Sam imagined suffocating them by pressing their faces into their food until they stopped thrashing. Sam bit at his fingers.

"Sam?"

Sam stood up and walked away towards the restroom.

.

Sam paced back and forth in front of the empty male cubicles with both hands shaking. He felt like he could explode any which way. He stopped to wash his hands in scolding water, paper towelled them and began pacing again. It was reminiscent to when he drank Demon blood, but he didn't have the urge only the feeling of needing to release built up tension and energy. He had too much energy, more than he knew to deal with. He tried to steady his fast ragged breathing but his mind wasn't able to concentrate. Trying to stand still wasn't working. He needed to… get out! 'No, Dean would worry'. Instead he washed his hands and dried them again and forced his legs to do what he wanted, steering him towards his seat towards Dean. He could see his Veggie Pizza already placed at the table waiting for him and Dean munching on his own third slice. A family table which was empty earlier was occupied by three young children (two boys and a girl) a women that looked to be their mother and an older lady, which Sam had assumed to be the Grandmother to the children.

Sitting down in a huff before his pizza, Sam watched with little amusement as Deans cheeks where filled beyond their healthy capacity. With one big gulp and a glug of his beer, Dean wiped his fingers on a napkin and stared at Sam who although was eating he was still buzzed with energy.

"You okay? You're shaking."

Sam could barely concentrate. It took all of his effort not to run out of the pizzeria and do something-anything other than sitting and eating. Sam forced his head to nod, filling his mouth with pizza as an excuse not to speak. He remembered last evening reading his brother's notes and the things Dean had written that helped him get through. Sam had tried a few that he could remember; keeping focused on the present, paying attention to his emotions and rationalisation. He remembered how pent up he was that evening and how alcohol took the edge off. Dean had also written to stay clear of alcohol.

Dean smiled and leaned back in his seat.

"This pizza is awesome! I bet'cha Death would love it too." Dean chuckled and leaned forward. Sam smiled tightly.

"Next time we need a favour from Death we'll come here for his grub."

Sam couldn't take another second like this. He could hear the children from the family table playing as they went from giggling to whining at each other louder than what was thought natural; the light coming in through the window were the brother's sat was beaming much too brightly. The food he chewed on was loud in his own ears. He needed a drink.

Sam waved Amber to come over as she picked up a desert bowl from the trio as they continued to converse and she headed towards him. Standing before him he thought she was quite cute. She was slim, average height; her face was covered in freckles, blue eyed, strawberry-blond hair with a messy bun. Her lips were full and they smiled nice. Any other time he thought he would enjoy her company under the sheets, but right then he had a single incentive and that was to gain some semblance of self control. Dean noticed how her cheeks pinked a little as Sam stared a little too long.

"How can I help you sir?" She asked.

Sam pointed towards Dean's beer bottle and asked for the same. She nodded and walked off.

"So you gonna ask her for her number?" Dean asked all curious with a sly grin.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Just saying she was diggin' you man. Why not?"

Sam huffed. "I'm not interested."

"Well I think you should be. Might give a good night's sleep for once."

The children at the table began giggling loudly and two of them ran around tables and chairs as though they were at home. The "mother" would call for them to sit and calm down but the children ignored them and so she carried on chatting with "Grandmother" allowing them to continue behaving like puppies. Sam felt a sudden pang of irritation.

Amber came back with Sam's ordered beverage and Sam finished it in one right in front of her and ordered for more. Dean watched, finishing off his pizza and the last of the chilli wedges, unnerved by his brother's behaviour. He remembered the last couple of nights hearing the sound of his brother in the middle of a nightmare; the last he had was the worst. He had screamed and the Mark was burning fierce as he tried his best to wake his brother up. It was obvious to Dean that Sam had no recollection of it.

The children ran past, one of them almost tripping over a seat leg and falling face first. Dean caught him in time. Sam pushed his plate aside, half of his meal left uneaten and continued to drink his 7th beer, releasing oxygen from his lungs letting out the tension from his shoulders as slowly felt the numb calm.

Dean held both the children's hands and guided them over to their table, the mother watching in awe as he managed to get all three of them to settle down and behave. The Grandmother thanked him, smiling and Dean sauntered away from them and back to his seat.

"You see that brother?" Dean asked with a smug look.

"What?" Sam replied, staring his table.

"What do ya mean what? I totally cracked the whip on those kids man."

"Wasn't really listening." Sam said, disinterested.

Dean looked at the leftovers.

"You gonna finish that?" Dean asked Sam pointing at his pizza. Sam shook his head. "Alright, I'm gona go pay the bill and have it boxed up to go. Can't be wasting good food." Dean made to stand up.

"Those kids over there…" Sam looked up to look at Dean. "They were aggravating."

Dean smiled. "Well it's a good thing I handled it then. Do I get a thanks?" He joked.

"That family and their inconsideration…" Sam carried on. "I imagined going over there and slaughtering every last one of them." Sam ran a hand through his hair slowly, his eyes were distant. "I can still see it now. I think I actually would have done it if you hadn't intervened Dean."

Dean hid his dread. "Well… thank God for that." He replied and walked off to pay the bill.

"I think you being flat-out honest is our best bet." Dean said, seated in the driver's seat. "You start feeling like you're gonna blow off the handle and go psycho—you tell me."

Dean stopped the car at a zebra crossing to let someone pass and then continued on driving. "You wanting to kill an innocent family is messed up. So God knows what would have happened if it hadn't gone down the way it did."

"I get it Dean, I read the notes. Some things I relate to you on but, I don't know. There's this nagging feeling I have and it's not just the rage, it's… the only way I can describe it is, it's like Power."

Dean frowned. "Power?" he questioned.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but it's like I have too much of it and it leaves me shaky. Alcohol takes off the edge."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. I think it's something to do with what Lucifer…" Sam stopped himself from speaking further.

Dean turned a quick eye at his brother questioning. "What did Lucifer say Sam?" Dean pressed.

"I." Sam clasped his hands together and stared at them. He could feel the car slowing down and moving to the left side as Dean made to park on lay-by on the highway. A few cars drove past.

All was heard was the sound of their breathing as Dean waited for his brother to continue. The alcohol hummed in the back of his head but it did nothing to settle his nerves for what he was about to tell his brother.

"Lucifer said that I have his Grace—."

Dean's eyes widened. "What!"

"Well only some of it. And um, that the Demon blood has been awakened from it, so I have my powers back. But they're tenfold. He wants to help me with it."

"How the hell did you get his Grace Sam?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"It was given to me through the Mark. It's all part of the plan."

"What plan?" Dean shook his head. He was mad. "You better start explaining Sam! God, this is worse than I thought, especially with you keeping this from me!"

"Well I didn't know how to tell you! I wasn't even sure of it myself at the time!"

"You could have just said!"

"Well you know now, Dean!"

The brothers huffed angrily staring each other down.

"What else should I know that I don't Sam?"

Sam looked away and rocked his jaw. Dean watched as he began rubbing at the Mark. His lips parted to speak. "There's a sword. It's Lucifer's – he used it to defeat Amara and he told me I'm the only one except for him that can use it. I'm trying to find it, but I haven't had much luck so far. It's partly why he gave me the Mark and a part of his Grace."

"And you've been doing this right under my nose?" It wasn't a question, more of an accusation.

"Yeah." Sam replied defeated.

Dean sighed and dragged a hand down his face. 'I shouldn't be angry'. "You're right, I know now. Now all we gotta figure out is how to deal with this."

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