Author:Mirrordance

Title: Home Road

Summary:The brothers were so different sometimes.Dean after Sam died was lethal silence and a sense of suicide-Let the world end.Leave me alone.That loudly unspoken I wish I was dead.Sam was different.He had murder in his eyes.Post-3.16 and Sam finds a way.

" " "

Home Road

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6

" " "

Hell

" " "

The visions literally assaulted him, catching him whenever they wanted to. He supposed Sam's had been like this too. One minute he's walking toward the mouth of their icky little cave and the next, he's back in a hospital in the middle of nowhere watching his father die again.

Ruby's face had faded from his sight, and he was in that room again.

Time of death: 10:41...

And then the vision would unceremoniously dump him back to hell. The sad thing about it all was that being back in hell was a relief. He landed back in his body, on his knees on the ground, a hand to the amulet around his neck as he struggled to catch his breath.

"You back?" she asked.

He licked his lips, wrenched his eyes closed against the pounding ache in his head, but nodded. "Yeah," he rasped, "Say, there wouldn't be any water around here, would there?"

"No food, no water," she said, "Hunger and thirst, forever. First thing I did when I got out was to eat."

"Fuck," he muttered, peering at her from lidded, weary eyes, "Say... why aren't you getting any?"

"Any what?" she asked.

"Any of the grindhouse classics in your head," Dean replied, "Why's it just me?"

"I told you they'd get easier," she answered, "That they'd show you so much that it would eventually hurt less. Turn you numb and cold. Turn you dark. I've turned long, long ago, so there's no need for them anymore. Admittedly though, even in my first few years here I never got as much shit as you're getting right now. I think I know why. When I came here, I was long-tainted. You on the other hand...you don't belong here, Dean. That's why you literally gotta get dragged by a hellhound. That's why they gotta change you with these visions. They change you, so that they deserve to keep you."

"Keep me?"

"If you become a demon," she replied, "You're hellbound for real. You step back on Earth, and it's not gonna be bye-bye and walking into white light, like your dad did after he walked outta here. If you become like us, Dean, if you let them turn you, this is it. The best you can hope for is walking the Earth in a borrowed meatsuit. No heaven."

"Heaven," Dean snorted, "Right."

Her brows raised. "You don't believe in heaven?"

He shrugged, noncommittally.

"You're so screwed up," Ruby commented, amused, "You don't think you deserve to go, or you don't think there is one?"

"If there is one, no," he said, changing the topic, "How much further is it to this guy we're seeing, anyway?"

"Does it matter?" she snapped.

"You're right, it doesn't," he said, as he kept walking.

" " "

Indiana

" " "

He sat on the back of the ambulance with his brother and the doctor, as Bobby and Roger Wallis took over the front seats.

"Ellen's with Jo and Missouri," Bobby reported to Sam after putting down his phone, "They'll be coming with Alex and the kid to that house of yers."

Sam grunted in semi-acknowledgment. He was busy rifling through Dean's bagged and bloodied shit (the doctor had called it personal effects and that just sounded macabre, like it was owned by some dead guy so Sam stalwartly refused to call it that). It was just an ugly mass of ruined clothes and knick-knacks.

"Something's missing," he muttered, digging in deeper.

God, blood stank.

"It's all there," Brennan guaranteed.

"No, no," Sam insisted, pulling his hand out of the bag, reaching out to his brother's neck. The aggressively searching hands turned immediately gentle, as he probed at Dean's collarbone.

"Something's missing."

"Sam, what?" Bobby asked.

"He never took it off," Sam said, quietly, searching the bag again, "He'd be pissed as hell if he woke to find we lost it."

"The necklace," Bobby realized.

"Maybe, maybe it fell at the house," Sam said, "No one would have taken it. The leather was old and wrecked and there was just blood everywhere. Wallis, is this the same ambulance you used?" he started looking under the seats and at the corners.

"I clean it up right after I bring people in," Roger replied, "Sorry, man, I didn't see no necklace or anything."

"He'll be so pissed," Sam sighed, looking up when he felt Bobby watching him from the rearview mirror.

"Take it easy, Sam," the older hunter said, faux mildly, because his eyes were worried about the youngest Winchester's frame of mind, "It'll turn up."

" " "

The sun was high in the sky in mid-morning by the time they settled down in another ironic suburbia.

Ellen and Jo Harvelle stood apart, an irate Missouri between them. The sleepy-looking teenager and the wary EMT stood huddled together, and all five women watched the weary new-arrivals.

Ellen went straight for Sam, the moment he stepped out of the ambulance. She was going to hug him, she really was, up until she saw the grim determination etched on his face, and the very clear and pointed warning that he wasn't going to be having anything like that right about now.

For all of his kid-brother tendencies, no one wore menace quite like the youngest Winchester, oh no... and so she just nodded at him, and let her eyes drift to the stretcher bearing the man-of-the-hour. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Dean, and she glanced unhappily at her anxiously shifting daughter.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said in a low voice, "I never even knew about his deal. Don't know what I could have done if I did, but... well..."

"Well you're here now," Sam said, glancing at Jo too, "And Jo. We appreciate the help, Ellen, we really do."

She nodded, as the group began filing into the house.

" " "

They settled Dean down in the family room right off the living and dining rooms. The arrangement of this house – not atypical of most suburban developments - felt too much like the one Dean had died in in the first place that it was making Sam grimace at the unwelcome memories.

The doctor and his daughter were given their own room, and the two EMT's shared another. They were all new to this life, and Sam wondered if they would be getting any real sleep at all, after the things they now knew. But he was in no mood to coddle them. He watched them trudge up those stairs, bodies weary and nerves stretched taut, leaving him and Dean with no one but the remnants of their makeshift family; Ellen and Jo standing loosely side by side, and Bobby and Missouri.

"You should get some rest, Sam," Bobby said, "We've done all we could for now."

"Maybe later," Sam murmured, distractedly turning to Missouri, "Missouri...Is he here at all? Any part at all...?"

"You already know the answer to that, Sam," she told him with kind, lonely, regretful eyes.

He set his jaws and nodded, jerkily.

"You think the four of them are okay up there?" Jo asked, "We won't be having any problems with them calling the cops on us or anything?"

"Brennan came on his own," Bobby said, "The daughter's fool enough to join in if we just asked. Wallis and the girl have seen what they needed to see. I don't even think we could get rid of them if we asked 'em to leave. Can't say as I blame 'em. Nothing makes sense, and the only ones who more or less look like they know what they're doing is us."

It was just one problem off their laundry fucking list, Sam thought miserably, glancing at his brother's still form. Dean's body safe, check. Doctors to take care of him, check. They're willingly helping, a surprise check. Now for the hard part: getting Dean's soul back.

Getting Dean back was at the very top of Sam's list of priorities. Everything else around that was purely incidental. The world was just lucky Lilith had Dean's soul because otherwise, Sam wouldn't give as much crap about trying to stop her.

" " "

Hell

" " "

It was rough terrain, just simply unforgiving. Jutting rocks, massive boulders, twisted, leaf-less trees, and just dead, dry soil. The air was hot, and thick with dust and ash. The ground beneath their feet was hot too, jagged and irregular and hard and sharp. One tended to fall a lot, grapple, and bleed.

"Where's everybody?" Dean asked, looking around the arid land.

"We're at the outskirts," Ruby replied, "That hell's gate opening a year ago is still pretty fresh in people's minds here. That's where most would be. Besides, you should be relieved, not complaining."

"Fair enough," Dean grunted, as he walked alongside her. "When you said we had to hide, what exactly are we hiding from?"

"Everybody," she replied, "Lilith and her people, for one, they're sure hunting you down now. Any demon down here that may know you. Or any demon that doesn't know you, for that matter, and are just looking for something to break. Then there are Lilith's enemies. You already know the chain of command's messed up after you wasted Azazel and Sam refused to step up. Lilith's one of the biggest guns, but she's not the only one."

"Is there anyone who isn't looking for me," Dean muttered.

"The aimless and the hopeless," she replied, "Who have no care about leaving here. There's more than you think. Then there are others, like the guy we're looking up."

"So this guy," Dean asked, "This, this Watcher guy. Why does he know so many things?"

"He's been here as long as anyone can remember," she replied, "Think of him as your local old one. There's one everywhere."

"Why the hell would he answer our questions?" Dean asked.

She looked at him sidelong, thoughtful. "He never gives anything freely, so he'll answer our questions if he gets something in return."

"Exactly," Dean pointed out, "We don't have anything to give. No one here has anything to give."

"He always finds something that he can want from you," Ruby said, "There's always something to trade for. I guess you should be scared, but what else can you do?"

" " "

They walked on. Someone could have told him he's been walking for years and Dean would've believed it. He was tired, but his mind was alert. He was thirsty and hungry and deeply, deeply weary. He felt ill. But hell being hell, there was no relief, not in unconsciousness, not in sleep, not in death. You just... went on, like a shell, like a faded version of yourself.

As he walked, he macabrely imagined what kind of demon he would make, after a minor eternity of this shit. Would he be like the vicious, relentless ones, like Lilith and most of the assholes he's come across? Or would he be like one of those shell-people, the mindless ones walking around with their puppet strings cut? He wasn't even sure what was worse.

He could, he supposed, be a bit like Ruby, couldn't he? Black heart, black soul, incidentally decent purpose? Like Blade from Blade, you know, who's half-fang or something but was doing good stuff? Or Hellboy--

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is….they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam - he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

Vision.

No more John dead on the floor. This was him standing in front of the other-occupied body of his father, pinned by an invisible force against a wall, venomous words that belonged to a dark space in his heart being hurled on his face. Spat out, like simple, trifling bits of acid. He knew his father wouldn't say that. But it was a doubt so long-home in his mind that it didn't matter. The words stung and they went deep, hurting more than the wrenching pain in his gut when unseen hands held and clenched at his insides, until they drew blood through his skin. He screamed. He didn't like screaming. Sam was screaming too. He was being torn apart. He begged. He liked begging less.

"Dad, please..."

He knew how that story was supposed to end. John saying stop, the sudden release, the collapse to the ground. But in this dream, the hands clenched tighter. And he could do nothing but scream louder. And beg harder--

"Hey, hey."

He jerked aware, back into his other hell. He was on the ground on his back, breathless, eyes and nose running as if he had been sobbing, and Ruby was bent over him. He blinked at her as he gathered his bearings. He realized that her hand was pressed against his hand, folding his fingers around the amulet on his neck. Her eyes caught his realization, and she backed off.

"You have a weird habit," she said, after a moment.

"What?"

"Anytime you fall into one of those things," she said, "Your hand reaches for that thing on your neck."

His hand tightened around the amulet, by sheer reflex.

"What the hell is that?" she asked.

"Gift from Sam," he answered, voice soft enough to come just short of an exhausted whisper.

"It pulls you out, doesn't it?"

He closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. If it did, he didn't notice until now.

"Hide it," she said.

"Why?"

"There are only a few things you could bring with you down here from up there," she said, "Trinkets usually don't get to come with. It might be important."

Dean did as suggested, frowning in thought as he slipped the necklace to beneath his tattered shirt. Taking a shuddering breath, he heaved himself up and the two of them, again, as if for eternity, just kept walking.

" " "

Indiana

" " "

"You sure got a crack team on your hands, big brother," Sam told Dean softly, with a small, awkward smile on his face.

"Let's see," Sam said, his tone quite insanely conversational. He wondered briefly if he has lost his mind at last, it being that he knew as well as Missouri guaranteed that Dean was nowhere near. But he found the need to speak to his brother as if he was just around the corner. Made him feel like he could get him back more.

"You got a small-town doctor," Sam enumerated, "A thirteen-year-old teeny-bopper, a bartender, a barmaid, a junk man, a psychic, and a college drop-out. We're gonna be getting you back. Imagine that.

"Well stranger things have happened, right?" Sam asked, "Crazy's everyday of our lives, all that? So just hang on, okay? I'm getting you out. For real this time."

Sam turned his head at the sound of indiscreet footsteps that stopped just outside the door. It was Jo, bearing a tray of food and drink. He knew she could be very subtle, but hadn't wanted to startle him.

"Sam?" she asked, "Thought you might be hungry."

He glanced at the food and winced. A light sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of ginger ale. Uncomplicated foods, really, but he lost his appetite long ago and he wasn't sure he was ever gonna get it back.

"Nah, I'm good."

"You're no good to Dean going on like this," she pointed out, "You can't help him half-dead."

He reached for the apple and took a tentative bite, leaving everything else.

"Bobby said to spike the drink," she told him with a small light in her eyes, making a gentle, unobtrusive effort to make him feel marginally better.

"You didn't listen, did you?" he asked, a beat too late, as if he's already forgotten how to find things funny.

Jo shook her head, and let her eyes drift away from him to settle on Dean. "Kinda weird, huh? Last time the three of us were stuck in a room together, he didn't come out so pretty either."

Sam winced. "Listen, Jo--"

"It wasn't you," she told him, quickly, "I know that, Dean knew - knows- that too. He knows that better than you. I was patching him up, and he said he just knew it couldn't have been you, like it was so simple. He believes in you, Sam. I don't know how, or how long it's gonna take you, but I'm a betting gal, and I'd bet my life on you saving him. I'd bet on a Winchester. I have before."

It meant more than he could say, coming from the daughter of the man who had died betting his life on their father. Sam nodded at her gravely, in thanks.

" " "

Hell

" " "

"Should I have listened to you?" Dean asked, voice hoarse and pensive as they walked side by side, "When you were telling Sam what he could do?"

Ruby threw him an odd look, but kept walking. It might have taken her a day to answer, maybe longer. "Yes. But to be fair, I wouldn't have trusted me either, if it was the other way around. I'm a demon, Dean. It makes sense not to trust me, I get that. I'm hardly in a position to be offended."

"Ain't that a bitch," Dean murmured, "And here I am, working with you anyway, when I could've saved myself the hell-trip." He bit his lip in thought, "I'm trying to figure out... how I'd feel about all this if it ends with you screwing me over."

"It wouldn't be the first time you worked with someone who fucked you in the ass," Ruby pointed out, "Bela Talbot, Gordon Walker... and we all know how they both ended up, huh?"

Dean shrugged, "Yeah so you'd better be nice to me."

"That's too strong a word," she said, "How about settling with just me bringing you whatever I promised, even if I have to be bitchy about it?"

"Fair," he nodded, still looking deep in thought.

"What?" she asked, impatiently.

"Are you gonne screw me over?" he asked back.

"Not today," she sighed, "Though you sure as hell deserve it."

" " "

He fell into another vision.

It was an odd one, he felt like a parrot perched on his father's shoulder. All he could see of John was the back of his shoulder and the back of his dark head. He viewed things almost as John would see them, but disconcertingly not-quite.

He sat through his father dealing with yellow-eyes, turning over the Colt. Saying Okay like nothing, you know, Okay? Okay? Who says that?!

And then they – he and his father, left John's body crashing to the ground. They just left it, like the two of them were getting sucked away. The hospital and the body on the floor tunneled out to darkness and pain, and then fire. And just like that, they were in hell.

Dean jerked awake, found himself on his back, on the floor. He blinked up at the external, sick-orange-dim skies. His hand was on his amulet again. Ruby was right, it was a weird habit...

Ruby?, he found himself wondering where she was, because she wasn't standing over or near him, with those clouded, cold / worried eyes of hers, like she wasn't sure what to make of him.

Did she leave?

Am I alone?!

"Ruby?" he called out, pushing himself up to his elbows.

He jerked awake again.

What the hell--?

This time, her face hovered over his indeed, and those eyes looked at him like he expected them to.

Vision within a vision, he realized, after a beat.

At least they're changing it up a little bit, he thought, inanely, Getting a little bit more creative...

"You back?" she asked.

"Are you?" he murmured, unable to help himself.

"You've lost your mind," she said, flatly.

I have to agree.

" " "

They moved again, like it was nothing.

They kept on moving, sporadically and jerkily stopping anytime Dean was assaulted by his nightmares. Sometimes he'd return to himself on his back, other times, on his knees, other times he blinks his eyes closed, sees the visions, opens them back up again, like it was nothing, and he just kept walking.

They varied in length, in perspective, in color. He lost count of how many times he had seen his father die. But the memory was just so fresh and accessible, down here. He could practically taste the coffee on the floor.

But Ruby was right; it was getting easier. He knew it, just as much as he hated it. And yet more and more he just dusted himself off and kept walking. Blinked his eyes and kept walking.

It was a creeping, cold, helpless feeling.

Inexplicably comforting...

Until they broke out a new reel. No more dying John Winchester on a hospital floor.

When Dean watched his father writhing and screaming in hell, he started screaming too.

He was still screaming when he woke, on his ass on the rough ground, his upper body being braced by a being he had once sworn was his enemy. Ruby had an arm around him to keep him steady, and one hand clamped over his mouth.

"Knock it down a peg, Winchester," he felt her breath against his ear, "Someone's coming."

" " "

Indiana

" " "

Sam watched the playing light gleaming off of the pigsticker as he twisted it in his hands. It was such a simple, elegant weapon, not at all unlike the ancient Colt.

He needed to think. The laptop he put down on the nightstand had its screen frozen, probably overheated or overburdened (likely both). He let it stay that way for awhile, let his mind similarly gather itself. He sat next to his brother's bed, staring at the knife.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that. All he knew was he was aware one moment and the next... Brennan was shuffling quietly around the room, checking on his brother, and Bobby was manning his laptop on the couch.

"Back to sleep, Sam," the older hunter said, not even looking up from the computer, "You haven't been away two hours."

"Maybe later," Sam said, stretching his hands wearily over his head, as he watched the doctor, "Any change?"

"You shouldn't expect any," Brennan told him, "I told you he's 'stable,' but that's because he's technically dead and it can't get any worse."

Sam stared at him disapprovingly. This line of conversation was unwelcome.

"So Lilith's got the gun all this time, right?" Bobby asked, breaking up the tension and looking up from what he was reading, "What I don't get is why the hell isn't she using it to open the Gate yet?"

"What happened to the gate?" Sam asked after a long, quiet moment, "After we closed the door last year?"

"I had some old buddies of mine re-seal the broken iron lines," said Bobby, "And a few hunters would go by there regular-like, every few days just to see no one's trying anything funny. That worked out fine 'til that bitch Bela stole the Colt. Had to have them checking more. No demonic activity whatsoever, nothing like we saw last year."

"With the Colt in her hands," Sam said, thoughtfully, "She could open that gate anytime she wants."

"So what's she waiting for?" Bobby asked, "What's she planning?"

"We need answers," Sam said, rubbing his face, "But none of her damn followers are gonna give us information. Believe me, Dean and I tried, before... before the deal came through. Like that bitch at the hospital said, they're more scared of her than me. I need... I need them to be more scared of me, Bobby."

"What are you thinking, kid?" Bobby asked, glancing at the doctor, before settling troubled eyes back to Sam.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, softly, though of course, he had some idea. The only thing these demons would fear was someone stronger than Lilith. They would fear Azazel's heir.

"There's something inside me," Sam said, "Something she's afraid of."

Something I'm afraid of...

"Maybe it's worth looking into--"

"No," Bobby said, quickly, in Sam's anguished heart, unknowingly echoing Dean, "Just... no--"

"I don't see any other option, Bobby," Sam pointed out.

"This is just... just some distorted version of you selling your soul, Sam," Bobby said, "How's your brother gonna feel when he finds out what it cost you to get him back, huh?"

"I'm gonna go," Brennan muttered, shuffling out of the room, not as if either of the two men inside cared or even noticed.

"Sam," Bobby said, glancing at Dean, "I'm gonna say it 'cos it needs saying. We're all thinking it, somewhere inside you, so are you. Even if you get him back... this body's broken, Sam. You get his soul back and the likelihood is that its just gonna be sleeping inside, right 'til it finally, really dies. You get half a brother back at the cost of your soul. It isn't gonna save him. It's only gonna kill you."

Sam chuckled mirthlessly at Bobby. God, he's had this conversation before, hadn't he? Damn Dean's ghost, stifling this room, his will bleeding from the mouths of other people.

"I'm not gonna let him rot in hell, Bobby," Sam said, coldly, "I'm gonna do this. Watch me. Better, work with me. Or else, just get out."

"Sam..." Bobby said, helplessly, "One of the biggest mistakes I ever made in my life, was when I left your brother after you died. I felt like the world was ending. And all he wanted was to get you back. I had to go. He couldn't. I turned my back, and now here we are. And I'm sorry. I know how you feel--"

Sam was gonna snap at him, he really was, except, he couldn't deny him that understanding. No one in their line of work could ever say to the other You don't know what I'm going through. You've never lost anyone. They've all lost. They've all paid. It was just his stinking turn today. What he didn't understand was why that roulette always pointed the Winchester's way.

"But this..." Bobby shook his head, "I'm not going anywhere, Sam. Get that in your thick head. I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but anytime I think you're messing around with yourself, or, or with how this war's gonna turn all just 'cos of Dean, you gotta know I'm gonna stop you. I owe your brother that much, god knows he's paid a lot just because I walked away. And because I got rights to."

"I know," Sam said, softly, feeling oddly relieved that there was going to be someone around who can tell him right from wrong, the lines he can and cannot cross. Because right now, to get Dean back, he was ready to burn everything down.

"I'm gonna see how far I can take this," Sam said, nodding decisively, "Right now, I need a demon."

"Summon one?" Bobby asked.

"We usually need them by name," Sam said, "I'll try Ruby but Lilith said she got rid of her. I don't know anyone else, obviously. We can ask a Crossroads Demon but that setup's their turf. We want them on our ground."

"What do you want to do?"

"I've been thinking about it," Sam said, rising from his seat and picking up the laptop in Bobby's hands, "They have an ear out for us, out there. We want them to come to us, right?"

He typed a few keys, and then turned the screen toward Bobby. The older hunter's eyes widened at the sight of the Ghostfacers website.

"Bait."

"Sam..." Bobby hesitated, "They're just a bunch of reckless kids... We dump this on them and it can go all sorts of wrong."

"No one's ever prepared for this kind of life, Bobby," Sam reasoned, "They've willingly shoved their sheltered suburban heads in hunting so they're more prepared for this than anybody. More prepared than you or I ever were when we got into this. Besides, we'll cover them."

To Be Continued...