A/N: I know, I know...it's an update! I can hear the gasps of shock from here! LOL I can't really explain why this chapter was so damn hard for me to write? I know the content, while cathartic? Is also confronting for me...cause I'm still dealing with the loss of my mother. And I know I have a LOT of issues with RoboSam this season which made it hard for me to hear "Normal" Sam's voice as I write...but still, this was a bitch to write, plain and simple. I hope it doesn't come through too much, cause I'm really hoping I've given you guys something worthy of the wait.
HUGE thanks as always to LovinJackson, lovinandrew and Manda for their help, support and whip cracking. You've kept me sane...I think? lol
Please leave some love...feedback helps kill writer's block. True story!
xXx
I grieve for you
You leave me
'so hard to move on
Still loving what's gone
They say life carries on
~ Peter Gabriel - I Grieve
"Something's wrong..." Skye muttered softly to herself as she paced back and forth, up and down the hallway. Her eyes were locked on the front door and beyond, out to the yard where she was waiting for the familiar dark shape of the Impala to reappear. The boys should have been back by now and the fact that Bobby had gone out, followed by John leaving a little while later without a word? Only added to her worry.
Ethan was nestled in her arms, sleeping soundly, rocked by the steady rhythm of Skye's pacing back and forth.
"Do you want me to take him for a while?" Elise asked, slipping out of the living room with Connor two steps behind her. "We can have some cuddle time while I put on a movie for Connor?"
Skye hesitated only for a moment, before she nodded and let Elise gather Ethan up gently in her arms.
"It's probably just a flat tyre, mate. You know how it is with these blokes. We spend so much time worrying about them, that we don't know when to turn it off. Right?" Elise offered Skye a reassuring smile. "They'll be back any time now, you'll see. Come on, Connor. You pick whatever movie you want to watch, okay?"
"Nemo, Nemo!" Connor was chanting as he ran for the other room with Elise in tow.
Skye watched them go, grateful to Elise for her help. She felt all coiled up inside like a mouse trap, just waiting to snap. It was silly, because Elise was right. It was probably nothing. The boys could have a flat tyre...or maybe Dean had taken longer in town cause something had caught his eye. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened. She rubbed her arms and took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension bleed away after a moment.
A deep throaty rumble changed all that in an instant. Skye's heart starting thumping wildly in her chest as she stepped out onto the front porch and saw Bobby's Chevelle pulling up outside with Sam in the passenger seat.
"Oh, let me guess? You guys broke down and Dean's not leaving the Impala until she can be towed, right? That's so damn typ-..." Skye's shaky, nervous sentence froze in her throat as Sam stepped out of the car with a hollow look in his eyes and blood on his hands. Skye didn't even realise she was backing up until she collided with the wall behind her and slid down, shaking her head. "No...no, no, no...this isn't funny. Where's Dean? I...I need to see him. I need to see him now."
"Skye..." Bobby managed to find his voice as he approached cautiously.
"Don't!" Skye scrambled to her feet, pressed back against the wall still, shaking her head in denial as her vision became a blur of tears. "Don't. Don't you say it...don't you dare! Please, Bobby, no." The words didn't need to be said. Skye could already see it in their eyes and if she actually heard them say it out loud, her whole world would shatter into a million pieces.
Sam remained near the Chevelle, trembling, gutted, his face as blank as his eyes.
"You were meant to keep him safe, Sam. You were meant to keep him safe!" Skye launched herself across the porch at Sam, lashing out and punching him in the jaw. Pummelling him with blows across the chest, forcing Sam backwards until a set of strong arms wrapped around Skye and hauled her clear.
"Skye! Stop it!" Bobby growled in her ear.
"Let go of me!" Skye struggled, trying to break his hold on her, her knees giving way as they both went to the ground.
Bobby kept his arms wrapped as tightly as he could around Skye, refusing to let her go. "I got you. I got you. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.."
Anger, pain, disbelief...all welled up inside Skye and unleashed itself in a series of agonised screams as she continued to kick and lash out, battering Bobby until gradually the fight bled away and became sobbing...
"Stop. Stop it..." Dean pleaded as his vision slowly began to clear at last. His chest was heaving, his lungs aching from hyperventilating in a desperate attempt to breathe through the pain he'd been experiencing. Blood dripped from his lips as he sagged in the chains, barely even conscious now of the pull of the hooks through his flesh. The physical pain was nothing compared to seeing what his death was doing to his family. How long had it been? Was this real? Was it happening now? Or was this the past? Dean had no concept of time any more. Just pain and suffering...and now it seemed that he'd brought Hell to the people he loved.
"Stop? I was just thinking I needed to start popping some corn, maybe invite a few friends over for the show. What do you think, Dean? We could be onto a box office winner here..." The demon sneered, it's rotting putrid lips drawing away from long sharp teeth.
"F-...fuck you." The word slid from Dean's lips in a bloody whisper as his eyes fluttered closed, his body succumbing to the pain and shutting down on him.
"Honestly...no stamina these days..." The demon slid over and ran a nail across Dean's stomach, slitting open the skin before it slid it's hand in and took hold of his insides, squeezing tightly until Dean gasped in agony and reared upwards in his restraints as if he could pull away from the contact, the searing hot pain that was filling his insides. "That's more like it. We wouldn't want you to miss the second act now..."
Dean could hear the hissing, slithering approach of other demons now. Gathering around him to feed off his pain and misery like an all you can eat buffet. That's all he was now to them. Entertainment. The resident dog boy to kick and torment whenever they felt bored...and in Hell? That was often, because Hell wasn't pleasant, even for the demons that resided here. It made sense now for Dean why so many of them had wanted to get upstairs into the world...where he wanted to be. All he wanted was to see Skye again and feel her arms around him. He just wanted to close his eyes and hear her voice taking away all his pain, making him feel safe and loved again.
With a horrible, wet ripping sound, Dean felt his insides tearing free. Instinctively, he tried to reach down to grip the gaping hole in his gut and save himself, but the hooks through his hands and shoulders pulled tight and prevented him. Blood gushed up his throat to choke Dean as a bloody hand gripped his chin tightly.
"Now...it's showtime."
Everything seemed to shift and dissolve suddenly and there it was again...front row seat to the pain and sadness that he had caused.
"I want to sit with him..." Skye asked, her voice betraying her and breaking as she spoke. Her hand hovered over Dean's head for a moment, trembling wildly before she finally brought it down in a gentle, tender gesture of stroking his hair back from his forehead. It was hard not to focus on the bruising and cuts that marred his face now.
They had laid him out on a cot bed in the panic room downstairs, to shield Connor from seeing him. Skye didn't want his last memories of Dean to be tainted by the sight of his injuries and broken neck.
"Do you mind if I stay?" John asked quietly, even though he wasn't about to go anywhere. He knew he didn't have to put it into words why he had to sit there. How this was a chance for him to say goodbye that had been stolen from him with Mary.
Skye shook her head softly, looking at Dean still as her tears fell. There was blood in Dean's hair, specks and small scarlet tracks of it on his face and neck mixed with dirt. It seemed so out of place, so horrible and Skye couldn't bear it. She got up quietly, retreating from the panic room to fetch a bowl of warm water and some cloths.
John was still sat quietly near Dean's feet when she returned. His wings were folded up and quietly tucked behind his back, a picture of utter heartache and stillness. As though life itself had stopped.
Without a word, Skye sat down quietly, dipping a cloth into the water and squeezing out some of the excess before she started to carefully clean the blood and dirt from Dean's face. Her touch so soft, so careful as though she could somehow hurt him still. After a moment, Skye managed to swallow around the lump in her throat that seemed to want to choke her and found her voice again. "Bring him back..."
"I can't."
Skye paused and turned slowly to look at John, meeting his watery gaze with hers. "Bullshit. You did it once before. You gave him back to me. You can do it again."
"I can't, Skye. It was a one shot deal. He's gone."
"No. No, you give him back to me." Skye got to her feet, her voice becoming shakier and choked with emotion with every word. "Give him back! Bring him back!"
"I already told you. I can't." The words were ground out now, John sitting up more, his wings shifting behind him as he braced himself before Skye's anger. His own grief was locked away for now. John held it down deep and used it to try and stay strong. If he didn't, his own pain would overwhelm him.
"Then what fucking good are you? Sitting there with your wings and your demon blood pumping through you still. What fucking good does that do me or my boys right now?" She struck without warning, slapping John hard across the cheek.
John snatched her hand out of the air as Skye moved to strike him again, pulling her close as he stood up, holding her close as her anger was washed away seconds later. Skye sagged in his embrace, crying hysterically as John rubbed her back and tried to calm her again. Her words had stung, but they were only words. Driven by grief.
His face was wet with tears, his voice thick and hitching as he spoke. "You think I don't want him back? I'd give anything, Skye. Anything. I'd give up what's left of my humanity if I thought it would save him. But it won't...he's gone."
Those words gutted John deeply. He held Skye close, let her grieve, listened to her broken apologies to him over and over again...knowing that this was something he couldn't fix.
"Such pain...so damn delicious, Dean..." The demon laughed, licking it's long rancid tongue across Dean's chest before it stooped down to take a bite from his stomach. Other demons shifted and howled in anticipation then, before they all fought each other to get to Dean, wanting to taste his pain and loss. Wanting to feast on his misery like it was the finest meal they'd ever known. Dean threw back his head and screamed as they began to devour him, bite by bite, piece by piece.
XxX
Somewhere on the road, South Dakota.
"Where the hell are we going?"
"Relax, Sam. You said you wanted me to teach you, right? Well...I'm taking you out somewhere nice and quiet where you can practice using those handy little abilities of yours.." Ruby threw him a wink and a smirk, settling down even deeper into the driver's seat of her Mustang.
"I hate how you make it sound like I'm some sort of superhero or something." Sam muttered, his knee bouncing slightly as he continued to stare out of the passenger window, watching the night rush past in a blur of shadow. What was he even doing in this car? Why was he letting himself listen to a demon?
"We could get you a cape. Paint an 'S' on your chest or something?"
"Don't."
"Huh?" Ruby blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in Sam's voice suddenly.
"Don't say that. Just...just leave it alone." Sam gaze flashed briefly over to Ruby before it went back to looking out the window. Dean used to joke about that sort of thing all the time and Sam couldn't bear to have that memory cheapened by hearing it from a demon's lips. He wasn't a hero. He never would be. His brother was the hero, sacrificing everything for others, even his own life. All Sam had ever done was bring pain to his family. Dean would be alive right now if it wasn't for him bringing the Yellow Eyed demon into their lives...
Now it was up to Sam to fix this.
His hands were curled into fists, the nails biting into the flesh of his palms as his knees kept jittering and bouncing lightly. Sam felt so pent up since they had left the bar, as though there was something inside him just baying to be let loose and run wild. All he wanted to do was get out of this car and just...do something, anything. It was like an electric current charging through him right now. His heart was pounding stronger than ever, the blood rushing in his ears...and all Sam wanted to do was run. Run and run until he found Hell and brought his brother back.
Ruby glanced over at Sam, then shifted her gaze back to the road before he picked up on it.
There was so much untouched potential inside the boy beside her. Just begging to be unleashed and controlled. Sam had no idea how much power was dormant inside him. What he was truly capable of if he allowed himself to tap into it all. The rage and anger that he had unleashed in the wake of his brother's death at Azazel's hands was nothing compared to what he could do if he had full control of it.
But rather than hone those abilities, Sam had let them fade and weaken. Let his humanity take hold of him again. Rapid City had been one bright shining moment when Sam had shown a glimmer of his full potential...and for what? To rescue some girl? Some pale little meatsack that was holding Sam back from all he could be? Ruby would laugh if it wasn't all so damn pathetic really.
It was only a matter of time now, though. Dean was gone for real this time, John Winchester was running himself in circles trying to save a son who was already a corpse and Sam's precious little fiancee wasn't going to be able to keep Sam from his destiny too much longer.
Everything was slowly falling into place at last.
Ruby wasn't stupid. Azazel had blown it. He'd created the ultimate weapon...then tried to shut Sam down when he couldn't control him. Andras might have succeeded too, if he hadn't underestimated his target.
Ruby wasn't about to make the same mistake. When she was done with Sam? He would be begging her to help him. Completely dependant on what she could supply...
It was a perfect plan. Sam was so weak, so broken inside. Flailing and floundering for solid ground again. Barely little more than a week ago, Ruby had found him slumped at a bar. He had been so lost, drowning in hurt with no direction or idea of how to save his brother or himself. It had been all too easy to use that against him...
"I know you're hurting, Sam. A freaking blind man could see it. I can help you. I can help you get your brother out of Hell." Ruby sat patiently, studying the wreck of a human next to her with what she hoped looked like compassion.
"Yeah? And why the hell would a demon want to help me? What angle are you trying to play?" Sam looked at her through bleary, whiskey soaked eyes, swaying gently on his stool. His elbows were aching from digging into the bar as Sam tried to hold himself up. "I already tried selling my soul...and now you're going to sit there pretending to be my friend? How stupid do you think I am?"
"Not stupid...determined. Desperate. I know how that feels, Sam. I just want to help you."
"Why?" Sam asked again, confusion evident in his glazed eyes that were close to tears. He was so drunk, so emotional and so easily manipulated if Ruby played her cards right. It all came down to knowing what buttons to push and where Sam's Achilles Heel lay...
Reaching into her pocket, Ruby pulled out a small folded photograph, opening it out to show a beaming picture of herself with another girl. The pair had their arms around each other, laughing when the shot was taken, the younger girl with Ruby dressed in highschool graduation robes. "My sister, Liz. I was so proud of her that day. We thought she was going to go on and do something with her life..."
Sam blinked at the photo, reaching out to take it in his hand so he could see it better. "What happened?"
"Suicide." Ruby spat out bitterly, snatching the photo back and returning it to her pocket. "Turns out college was a little tougher than any of us realised."
"What's...what's that got to do with me? With Dean?" Sam asked, his mind struggling to put everything together in it's alcohol soaked state.
"You think the church is the only one who frowns on suicide, Sam? Where do you think that thinking came from in the first place? My sister's in Hell because she killed herself...it's not right! She was a good kid! She doesn't deserve to be there...and neither does your brother. That's why we should be working together. I scratch your back – you scratch mine...we both get what we want."
Sam stared blearily at Ruby, trying to read her eyes before he shrugged ever so slightly, his shoulders barely lifting at all. "What do you want me to do?"
Ruby smiled, clapping a hand to Sam's back. "First of all? Have a drink...then we'll see what happens from there."
Now as she saw the change slowly crawling through Sam's veins again, she fought the urge to smile. It had begun and by the time Sam was even aware of the truth, it would be too late.
He would be her perfect weapon...
XxX
Lawrence, Kansas.
"John Winchester, I oughta knock the holy hell out of you!"
Standing before the fury of Missouri Mosely, John Winchester couldn't help but feel like a scolded schoolboy somehow and he wondered why he had bothered coming back to Lawrence at all?
The streets were clean, the air fresh with the distant bark of dogs or the occasional siren echoing through the darkness; but this wasn't the city John Winchester had once called home. This was a hollowed out shell that was still climbing back from the darkness that had engulfed it and left nothing but blood in it's wake. Life was returning to the city, but it was slow and cautious now. Streets were still shrouded in darkness, people careful about venturing out at night unless they had to. There were too many demons still stalking the night, mixing with whatever other creatures now felt this world was theirs. Humans kept slipping further and further down the food chain while they tried to turn a blind eye to it all, refusing to accept that their world was no longer the one they had known.
John had been surprised to find that Missouri had moved back to Lawrence. Her house had been burnt down...her life as she had known it was gone. But the psychic was made of tougher stuff than a lot of people John had met in his life and if she had to start again? It was going to be on her terms. If that meant a new house in a new neighbourhood? Then so be it. Lawrence was still home as far as she was concerned and no damn demon was going to chase her out of her home.
" I didn't come here to argue, Missouri. Can you help me or not?" John folded his arms, his wings twitching from time to time in irritation. Every other lead had been a bust lately, he had nothing to lose by calling on his old friend before leaving Lawrence. He'd found out a few months back from Bobby that Missouri had left the hunter safe haven and moved back here. It seemed that while most hunters had gone to ground, Missouri had decided she was done with running.
"And why the hell would I want to do that?" Missouri demanded, pushing past John and making her way to one of the old armchairs that decorated the small living room. "You come on in here, asking questions – just expecting me to drop everything and act like some damn information booth for you! Sometimes things need to be left well enough alone, John!"
"You're talking about leaving Dean in Hell, Missouri."
"I know what it means! I'm not saying I like it! I love that boy like he was one of my own! But I also know that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed, John Winchester and you are playing with fire!"
"I can handle myself -" John began to object, thinking of his half demon side now and the harsh lessons he had learned in Hell.
"It ain't you I'm worried about! There's nothing much left of you that Hell hasn't had it's claws in at some point."
John felt he'd been slapped for a moment, before a small wry smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Missouri had never been one for mincing her words and he realised how much he'd actually missed this fiery little psychic over the past year. She had the ability to be a cool voice of reason when it was needed...even if he had no intention of listening.
" But that boy of yours? He's in deep, John...you're losing him more every damn day and you don't even see it." Missouri sank down into the armchair, looking tired suddenly. A headache was building behind her eyes, throbbing and aching it's way towards a migraine rapidly.
"Wait...losing him? What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Sam!" Missouri corrected with a tone that indicated she was in no mood for suffering fools. "That boy is getting himself in deeper and deeper without even realising what's happening to him. If you're not careful, John, you're going to lose both boys. You need to stop this nonsense and see to Sam before it's too late."
John watched Missouri for a moment, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw as he thought about how Sam had looked the last time he'd seen his son. The boy was exhausted, drinking...growing desperate. But how desperate? Just what had Missouri seen? "Sam won't leave Dean in Hell...and neither will I."
"John, please." Missouri pleaded, getting up from her chair and walking to him. Her hand was gentle as she laid it on his arm and tried to make him listen to reason. "You'd do anything for your boy. I get that. I do. But there are times when you have to accept what's happened. You have let go. For everyone's sake. Please..."
"No." The word was final, carved in stone.
"John..."
"Can you tell me where to find Crowley or not?"
"No." Missouri said quietly. "Even if did know, I wouldn't tell you, John. It's not right. I can't be a part of what you and Sam want to do. I'm sorry."
"So am I." John stepped back, his eyes dark with hurt and regret that his old friend wasn't going to back him up this time. There was no room for logic with what he wanted now. This wasn't about what should be done, but what had to be done. John wasn't going to give up now. "Take care of yourself, Missouri." John threw quietly over his shoulder as he walked towards the front door.
"John Winchester, don't you dare go walking out that door and break my heart!" Missouri growled, looking ready to slug him. "I'm thinking of everyone involved in this, dammit! Skye, Elise, those little boys! You have no idea what you're doing!"
"The hell I don't!" John roared, rounding on her furiously. "No one knows what it's like down there, Missouri. What they do to you, the pain, the torment you're put through. There are no damn words for what it's like...But I know! I was there and I've been through it all and it's tearing me apart to think of Dean knowing even a second of it. It's killing me to think what it's doing to him...and no one has the right to tell me to leave him there."
"John, what you bring back won't even be human any more! How can it be? His body is ashes! There's nothing for him to come back to! You'll be releasing nothing more than a tormented, tortured soul!" Missouri pointed out desperately. She'd always known that John was a stubborn ass, but she didn't think he would so downright reckless. Ever since she had first laid eyes on him again after his return from Hell, John had slowly proven to her that he wasn't the monster they had suspected. But this? Was this the father or the demon side of him that was being so stubborn now? No good could ever come from the path that John and Sam were headed down. Dean's death had taken so much from them already...Missouri couldn't bear to lose Sam and John too. "Will you use that so called brain of yours and think about this for five damn minutes? You could be bringing back something dangerous, John! You could be putting Skye...those babies...all of us in danger! Have you considered that?"
"Of course I have." John countered instantly, his voice low and rough. He held Missouri's gaze for a moment longer, before he turned again, walking to the door. His wings were hanging lower on his back now, his steps a little slower as though he was carrying a weight on his shoulders. "I'm not leaving him there, Missouri...but I won't let anyone else get hurt either. I'll handle it."
Missouri watched the dark shape of John Winchester step up to the front door and grasp the handle as he opened the door. The overwhelming sensation of danger slammed into Missouri, almost stealing her breath before she managed to bark out, "John!"
The warning came too late though as a rifle butt slammed into John's face, rocking his head back before his knees buckled and he collapsed backwards, unconscious with his wings splayed out beneath him, the door slamming open hard enough to punch a hole in the dry wall with the doorknob.
A large man wearing a leather jacket with a fur lining stepped over the threshold, his rifle now aimed casually at Missouri while behind him, she could see several shadowed figures moving onto the porch. "You make a move? And the only thing you'll be predicting is how long it'll take you to bleed out..."
XxX
Philip, South Dakota.
"You're kidding me, right?"
"Yeah, Sam, I'm kidding you. That's exactly it. This has all been one big fucking joke and this is the punchline." Ruby drawled as she stepped out of her car and took in the building before them.
Sam followed suite, staring at the small whitewashed building with it's quaint little spire and picket fence on either side. It was like something out of a Thomas Kincaide painting. Benign looking to the point of being laughable. "This is a church, Ruby."
"Was a church, Sam. Hey, look...you needed a place to try out those nifty little abilities of yours and I provided. Take a look for yourself...but don't be seen..." Ruby waved a hand in the direction of the church as she leaned back against the hood of her car.
Sam threw Ruby a puzzled look. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How the hell was a church meant to help him and why would a demon, of all things, bring him here? As he slipped through the shadows towards the building, Sam had suddenly never felt so alone and exposed. He'd had given anything in that moment to have Dean at his back, or even his father. Someone he could trust rather than some demon bitch with an agenda Sam wasn't entirely sure he believed.
"What the hell am I doing, Dean?" Sam whispered to himself, an ache settling inside him as he realised the biting reply he was waiting for wouldn't be coming. There was nothing to do but rely on himself now. Sam crept closer, listening to the soft sounds of hymns carrying on the night air towards him. Through the windows on the side, Sam was able to see what appeared to be several families all gathered to pray in the small chapel.
But something felt very wrong about all this. His gut instincts were screaming at him to get out of there. As Sam slipped close enough to pick up the voices better, a chill ran down his spine.
The words were twisted and disgusting versions of their original forms. Blasphemous mockeries of the songs he was expecting to hear. Creeping forward to gain a better view inside, Sam's eyes widened in horror as he saw the reality of the inside of this little chapel. Blood coated the altar at the front, spilling from the body of an elderly priest. The parishioners were all still engrossed in song, heads bowed over their books and clearly undisturbed by the horrific image before them.
A small boy with dark hair shaped in a severe bowl cut and a suit that was obviously getting too small for him to wear much longer, was sat on a pew near the window with his family. Sam estimated he couldn't have been any more than seven or eight years old. Ever so slowly, his head turned to stare at Sam through the glass before his eyes slid over black and a cold, wicked smile curled his cherubic lips. He lifted a hand to his throat and drew one finger across as though it was a blade, his smile growing by the minute.
Sam stumbled back from the window, almost losing his balance. Was this a trap? Was that why Ruby had brought him here? Before he had time to move, a meaty arm locked around his throat and hauled Sam backwards. It was rookie mistake, allowing someone to get the drop on him and one that should have never happened. Sam could almost hear Dean's voice in his head, berating him for getting so damn soft.
What the hell, dude? You let yourself get jumped like that? I taught you better than that, Sammy. You gotta suck it up and fight this! I don't want you keeping me company downstairs. You hear me? Come on!
The arm tightened around his throat, choking off any chance of Sam calling out for help or even taking a breath as a voice spat in his ear, "You're not welcome here, Winchester..."
Sam tried to swallow, shift his weight and use his size to his advantage, but the arm seemed to only tighten around his throat more. His feet slid in the soft grass, fighting for purchase and finding none as the pressure built with every desperate gasp Sam made for air. He was like a fish out of water, lungs straining, his mouth opening and closing frantically but without success. Spots were starting to swim before his eyes, the blood pounding in his head like a drum and sounding his death knell.
The arm tensed again, sensing the fight starting to leave Sam as the seconds ticked by. His legs were beginning to buckle, his eyes rolling up in his head as everything slowly faded out to be replaced by nothing by the erratic drumming of his heart as it struggled to keep pace.
And then the world came back to him in a rush of sound, colour and pain as the arm vanished. Sam crashed to the dirt on his back, coughing harshly as his crushed throat struggled to feed his starving lungs. He blinked and shook his head to clear his vision as a gurgling sound came from beside him before the demon hit the dirt, face down.
Ruby wiped the blood from her knife blade and grinned at Sam as she stepped back. "Maybe I was a little premature with that whole cape deal."
Sam pushed himself to his knees as the church doors opened and more than a dozen demons rushed out, running towards them.
"Shit! Sam? Now might be a good time to get that thumb of your ass and do something here..." Ruby was eyeing the group anxiously, ready to bail in a heartbeat. "Seriously..."
The group was almost on top of them now. Men, Women and even a few children, including the boy that Sam had spied through the window. What the hell was he meant to do here? Kill them all? Tear them apart like he had with the National guardsmen? With the demons in that church when he's been protecting Dean and Dad? Part of Sam was screaming at him, YES! That was exactly what he should do. And why not? How many of these demons had escaped from Hell? How many of them were killing and destroying lives while Dean was trapped down there, suffering?
The rage began to bubble within Sam, building rapidly and rushing through his veins as the darkness that had been dormant for so long, suddenly found it's voice again. It sang to Sam now, caressing his mind and telling him to just let go...
Lifting his hand to the demon crowd, Sam pushed with his mind and watched as several of them stopped as though they had hit a wall, locked in place and unable to move. But not all of them. Some were still free and picking up speed as they saw the danger now. Charging at Sam with murder on their minds.
Sam pushed again, his hand trembling, his face creasing up with pain as the strain of what he was doing became evident. Blood split from his nose, a white hot fire starting to burn within his mind. His chin trembled, his teeth locked together in a snarl as Sam shuddered and pushed even further. The remaining demons began to falter, slowing as though they were wading through molasses. With a growl of pain, Sam lashed out with his mind and sent the crowd sprawling backwards, crashing in a tangle of limbs and bodies as they were all blown backwards.
It cost Sam dearly and he fell forward, throwing his hands out to stop himself from face planting. Sharp, hot pain was throbbing through his skull, like liquid fire almost. His stomach rolled and rebelled, emptying his earlier drinking binge across the ground. Sam's whole body was quivering as he felt Ruby's hand on his shoulder, before she gently tugged at one arm. "We have to go, Sam. Now."
Stumbling to his feet, Sam allowed Ruby to drag him towards her car. He opened the passenger door and all but fell inside it, his head lolling back against the headrest. Why did he feel so washed out, yet so alive all at once?
Ruby planted her foot and Sam was pushed back in his seat as the car shot out of the church parking lot and into the night. She glanced over at Sam, then grinned. "Well, well, well...you did good back there, Hotshot."
"You set me up."
"Well, duh...we needed a real show of what you can do. This is the big leagues your entering here, Sam. I don't have time to mollycoddle you through this. It's sink or swim...and you passed with flying colours." Ruby's smile turned up another notch.
"My head feels like it's on fire." Sam groaned, dragging a hand over his face. His fingers came away bloody from his nose and he reached down, taking the bottom of his shirt and lifting it to wipe his face clean.
"You're rusty, Sam. That's all. The pain won't last long and the more you use your abilities again? The stronger you'll get. It'll all start coming back to you. You're a natural at this and soon it won't hurt at all. Trust me." Ruby leaned back behind her with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel. She fumbled around in the back for a cooler, knocking the lid off and pulling out a cold bottle of beer before hand it to Sam. "Here, you look like you could use this."
Sam took the beer, twisting the cap off with a shaky hand before he slammed it back hard. He coughed a moment later, sitting forward slightly as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing. "It tastes weird..."
Ruby shrugged and cracked her own bottle as she nestled it between her legs. "What? My beer's not good enough for you now?" She arched an eyebrow at him with a teasing grin.
Sam let his tongue slide around his mouth for a moment before he licked his lips. The strange bitter, almost metallic after taste seemed to be fading now along with his headache. His fatigue was slowly sliding away as Sam thought about the close call they'd had. Another mouthful of beer and it seemed to slide down his throat a lot easier. It wasn't the sort of beer he could recall having drank before, but it was cold, refreshing and he'd earned it, right? Instead of screwing up, Sam had come through and shown that he had what it took still to save his brother.
Shifting slightly in his seat, Sam regarded Ruby with a curious eye. "That knife you used...I've seen one before. My Dad has one."
Ruby glanced over at Sam, then reached into her jacket and retrieved the blade, handing it over to him. She could see Sam turning the blade over in his hands, examining the markings on it, the ivory handle. "It's one of the blades of Solomon."
"As in Key of? King Solomon?" Sam's eyes widened and he looked closer at the blade, noting the intricate carvings on the blade itself.
"The one and the same." Ruby nodded, keeping her eyes on the road as she spoke. "There's a story that Solomon had a mighty sword once that was broken in battle. The blade was shattered. He had his servants gather up the broken shards and remake them into six blades. They became lost in time, scattered across the globe. Your Dad must have hunted high and low for his." Of course, Ruby knew all about John Winchester having one of the blades. It made him dangerous and she would be careful not to cross his path any time soon...if at all until she had Sam where she wanted him. Then no one would stop her. Not Daddy, not anyone.
"And it kills demons?" Sam asked, looking more animated now, the colour back in his cheeks.
"Yup. Best protection a girl like me can carry...I'm not exactly going to be high on any demon Christmas lists after what I did back there."
Sam looked down at the blade as he took another drink of beer. His headache was long gone now, his whole body starting to almost hum again. Warm and pleasant. Like he could do anything, be anyone. Take on the whole world if he needed to.
And maybe he would. Whatever it would take to bring Dean back...
XxX
Kyle, South Dakota.
The house was eerily quiet when Skye finally surfaced from her room. A headache had built up behind her eyes, tight and pulsating. Her eyes felt hot and puffy from crying and all in all, Skye felt like she had been through an emotional ringer. It had been so hard to sit there and stare at Dean's face and hear his voice, that soft chuckle of his. He'd looked so alive, so real that Skye had caught herself reaching out to the screen time and time again to brush her finger tips over his image.
But that had been hours ago now. Skye had watched the tape several times over, trying to tell herself that Dean wasn't really gone, clinging to her denial like it was the edge of a cliff. Now Skye simply felt bone weary. She needed some air, needed to check on her children. Dean had asked Skye to watch over the boys for him and to watch over his family too. He knew how badly the people he loved would be hurting in the wake of his loss. Skye couldn't just curl up and wallow in her grief. There was work to be done, people to care for. Dean had died knowing that Skye wasn't alone and he'd reminded her of that fact and what it meant.
The slightest squeak was the only sound the door made as Skye poked her head inside the nursery to check on her sons. Ethan was lying peacefully in his crib, sucking on his fist as he dreamt of things that Skye could only imagine. She hoped his dreams were more pleasant than anything she'd had lately.
Tip-toeing across the room, Skye could see Connor's small form curled up on his bed, one arm draped over the puppy he had yet to name. Behind him was the much loved and slightly tattered looking Mr Woobie, keeping his ever silent vigil over her son as he had done since Connor was a baby.
Skye carefully pulled the covers over her son, pausing long enough to run her hand over the pup's head as it awoke with a little yawn and watched her. Despite her earlier reservations about letting this pup into their lives, Skye found herself smiling. Maybe Bobby was right? Skye couldn't keep Connor wrapped in cotton wool and after her behaviour earlier that night she wasn't about to win any awards for Mom Of The Year either.
Leaning down, Skye pressed her lips softly to Connor's temple before she turned to leave the room. Half way to the door, her son's sleepy voice froze her in her tracks.
"Sorry, Mommy..."
Skye's head sank towards her chest as her stomach knotted into a ball of icy guilt. She turned back slowly and crossed the floor in a few quiet steps, keeping her voice low so Ethan wouldn't be disturbed. Crouching down beside Connor's bed, Skye let her fingers drift gently through his soft blonde fringe as she smiled at him. "Hey, I didn't mean to wake you, Sweetie. Every thing's okay. I'm sorry for yelling before, okay? I'm really sorry."
"It's okay, Mommy." Connor said sleepily, watching her with tired eyes.
"Yeah? Forgiven already huh?" Skye's voice cracked slightly, betraying her as she felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Well I'm still sorry. You go back to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning." She kissed Connor softly on the forehead then stood up again, ignoring the gentle crack that her knees made in protest. " I love you. Now...sleep..."
Connor smiled briefly before he wriggled deeper under the covers and closed his eyes again, dragging his pup a little closer against him.
Skye remained there, watching for a heartbeat longer than she needed to, a solitary tear escaping to rush down one cheek. The last person in the world she should have snapped at earlier was her little boy. But by the morning it would all be forgiven and forgotten. Skye wished things could be so easily pushed aside when you were an adult. Another moment ticked by before Skye quietly slipped from the room and headed downstairs.
A light was still shining from the Den, where the soft buzz of Bobby snoring could be heard. Skye peered around the doorway and found him sound asleep in his chair, head tipped back, feet up on the desk. A book was perched precariously in his lap as he let rip with another buzz saw snore. Burning the candle at both ends only worked while you still had candle left to burn and Bobby had been sitting up like this for days now, trying to find the answers they needed.
Snatching up a blanket from a chair in the corner, Skye quietly crossed over to the desk and reached out for the book on Bobby's lap. Her fingers had barely closed around it when the sharp click of a gun cocking stopped her cold.
"Skye?" Bobby demanded, the sleep rapidly clearing from his eyes as he lowered the revolver in his hand. One quick pull of the trigger and he'd have taken her head off. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What the hell am I doing? Jesus, Bobby!" Skye exclaimed, clutching at her chest. "You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!"
"You should know better than to sneak up on me.." Bobby grumbled, laying his gun down on the desk.
"Sneak up? I was trying to make you comfortable." Skye snapped, still trying to work out where Bobby had stashed that gun? Did he always sleep with one? Or was he worried about something and keeping it to himself? "Next time I'll poke you with a broom first."
"I'm fine...I just closed my eyes a little too long, I guess." Bobby growled without any real fire in his words as he closed the book on his lap and placed it on the desk beside his gun. "I didn't think we'd see you again this side of sunrise..."
"I just wanted to check on the boys before I went to bed...maybe check the salt lines too."
"I checked 'em earlier, they're fine." Bobby leaned back in his chair as he narrowed his eyes at Skye. "I know how to protect my damn house."
"No, I wasn't-...I didn't mean..." Skye stammered briefly before she clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes for a moment, swearing under her breath. "I didn't mean it like that, Bobby..."
Maybe it would be better if Skye just left things alone until morning? Things would better then, right? Wasn't that how it was supposed to work? But if that was the case? Why did people say it was bad to go to bed angry? The more Skye thought about it, the more she felt her headache growing. She reached up and massaged the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Lifting her head, Skye looked at Bobby at last. "Look, what I said earlier tonight..."
"I ain't looking for an apology." Bobby leaned back in his chair, lifting a hand to cut Skye off as she opened her mouth to speak again. "Grief's a funny thing. Makes us say things we regret and lash out at the wrong people. I ain't saying it's right...I'm just saying what it is. It happened, it's over now and you need to let it go."
"But -"
"What do you want to hear? That you're forgiven? Fine, you're forgiven."
"Bobby..."
"Dammit, Skye!" Bobby stood up now, his chair skittering back across the floor behind him as he leaned on his hands over the desk, throwing her a cutting look. " I get it, okay? We all get it. But you ain't the only one hurting here. I can't be damn well holding your hand cause you feel bad. I don't have enough for you and Connor and everyone else around here! I'm watching Sam coming apart at the seams and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do for the boy. So just Let. It. Go."
Skye was lost for words in the face of Bobby's admission. They'd all been leaning on him these past few weeks, needing answers or a shoulder to cry on. Skye hadn't stopped to consider what it was doing to Bobby. "I...God, I didn't think, Bobby."
"Just forget it..." Bobby muttered bitterly, pushing off his desk and brushing past Skye as he headed for the door. He was gone before Skye had the chance to stop him and a few minutes later there was the dull thud of his bedroom door closing upstairs.
Tears welled up in Skye's eyes as she dug her nails into her palms and squeezed her eyes shut. Dean had asked her to look out for everyone. Well, wasn't she just doing a bang up job of that so far?
With a quiet sigh, Skye gently smudged away the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed some air and a chance to think right now. Clean out the cobwebs in her head. Skye closed the doors to the den behind her and walked up the hallway towards the front door, pushing open the screen door and breathing in the night air as she stepped outside.
Elise was curled up in one of the old chairs Bobby had sitting on his porch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she sat watching the yard.
"Sam not home yet?" Skye ventured quietly in Elise's direction.
"Nope." The reply was slightly muffled. Elise didn't even look in Skye's direction.
"Do you want some company?"
"Too scared to go back inside just yet?" Elise's face appeared over the edge of the blanket, a small smile on her lips.
"No! I just..." Skye paused mid sentence and chuckled softly. "Alright, you got me. I kinda screwed up in there, before."
"Relax, mate...Bobby's a big boy. You two will have it sorted out tomorrow." Elise assured her before she nodded to an old cane chair sitting on the other side of her. "Pull up a pew...I could definitely do with the company."
"I thought I might have upset you too with what happened at dinner and all that?" Skye took a seat, wishing she'd brought a blanket herself. The night wasn't chilly yet, but it would be before dawn.
"Dinner was a bad idea to begin with." Elise shrugged, the move more of a slight roll of the shoulders than anything else. "I should have just ordered pizza.."
"I am sorry, you know..." Skye offered quietly.
"Shut up, will you? You keep bottling things in all the time and you're gonna blow...plain and simple. No one took it personally, so shut it. Okay? I'm not sitting here with you apologising every five minutes."
Skye chuckled again and nodded. "Okay, okay. But...I am...sorry, that is."
Elise growled lightly and grabbed a cushion from behind her, throwing it at Skye with a laugh. "Shut up!"
Silence fell over the girls for a moment, both of them staring out at the yard. Elise's gaze was fixed on the gate in the distance, waiting for Sam to appear in the Chevelle. Skye's attention was fixed closer to the house, her gaze settled on the Impala sitting out in the lot, gathering dust.
"He'll be home soon, Elise."
"Yeah...I know." Elise sighed softly, settling into her blanket to wait.
xXx
A/N#2: Big things are brewing, guys...we're just getting started ;) Hope you enjoyed!