A/N: You guys rock and I am so glad you're enjoying this story. Thanks for the wonderful support and reviews. Just remember, my car is still for sale. It's gotta go. We're asking $9,000 US. I can explain why if you're interested.
Chapter 4
I get in the car and Dean closes the door as the leather cushion beneath me molds to fit me like a glove, like I never left. I feel a smile play with the corners of my lips and I look at Dean, face finally breaking at the happiness mirrored on my brother's face. I reach for the radio, hesitating briefly until he nods my way. I flip the dial and turn it up, not loud but enough to be nice. What else is playing but something that I didn't realize until now that I missed, that is really the perfect music for our lives. He smiles again when my hands run over the painted dash, and I look all around the car, eyes fastening for a second to the back passenger door panel, and the little bit of green that stuck out of the ashtray that wouldn't quite close. You always have watched our six, haven't you, soldier? Thanks for that. Thanks for helping me be strong enough to stop Lucifer from beating Dean to death with my hands. I swivel my head back around and the rumble of the engine and the feel of home settles over me and I rest my head against the back of the seat like I've done more times than I can count. I feel my brother glancing at me while trying to keep his eyes on the road. I sleep.
*Supernatural*
Dean flipped the visor down as the sunset cast red streaks against the windshield and threatened to make the road invisible through the glare. Shadows cast across his eyes made him realize that he was getting tired. The soft music playing in the background, now Guns-N-Roses' Patience, and the soft sound of his brother's relaxed breathing, the curves and straights of the road and the hum of the engine all filtered through his blood, seeped into his pores to make him more relaxed than he'd been in years. Everything felt right and somehow he knew he would do anything to hold onto this feeling.
He pulled back into the motel parking lot, easing the car straight into the space in front of their door. Bobby's tri-color Chevelle, the gray primer/rust/faded white SS striping letting him know that his old friend, his father figure, had made it to Cicero. The old tracker wasn't sitting in the car so Dean figured he was scouting the motel. Sam stirred on the seat, sitting up straight as he stretched his long limbs. He wiped at his eyes and looked out the windshield. "How long was I out?" he asked, his voice coarse from sleep.
"Little over five hours. Ya needed it."
"I think it was the first time in a long time that the nightmares haven't tried to tear me apart." Sam said quietly.
"We'll beat this, Sammy." Dean moved to open the door but Sam's reaching arm on his jacket sleeve, tightly clenched fingers in the material stopped him. His face was pale and he swallowed hard. "Sammy?"
"What I did to him…what if he hates me?"
"He doesn't hate ya Sammy. He's not capable of hating you."
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"You kiddin' me?" A gruff voice rang out from Sam's side of the car, not even muffled by the fact that the window was tightly wound up. Sam jumped, gripping Dean's jacket tighter.
"It's okay Sammy." Dean whispered just loud enough for Sam to hear. He nodded and reached for the door handle, watching as Bobby stepped out of the wide swinging path of the door. Sam stood and the hunter rounded the black panel and pulled Sam into his arms.
"O'course I wanna see ya! Damn, boy! Good t'have ya back!" Bobby squeezed Sam hard, huffing and breathing hard. He sniffed and stepped back, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes before he laid it back on the top of Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently.
"Hey Bobby." Sam said, skin still nearly transparent, but a smile on his face. "Good to see you too." Sam choked off when Bobby hauled him tight again.
"Let's get inside, huh?" Dean said, clapping both hunters on the arms. Bobby grabbed his pack that contained a salt gun, as Dean led the way to the door, using the key from his pocket to open it. He let Sam and Bobby through then shut it, locking it securely.
"Lemme lookatcha." Bobby said, dropping his pack. Spinning Sam around, hands on his arms and standing back, he looked Sam up and down, making him squirm. Bobby smiled and pulled Sam into his arms again. "Never thought I'd lay eyes on ya again." Bobby said, choking off abruptly.
"Bobby." Dean said, stepping up beside the hunter. "We need to talk, man." Bobby released Sam and they moved to the beds, sitting down. Sam sat slowly, stiffly, and both Bobby and Dean eyed him before Dean explained. "You remember that hand print I got?"
"Yeah."
"Sammy's got scars too. Worse." Dean motioned to Bobby to come around and he lifted Sam's shirt.
"Damn."
"Yeah."
Sam moaned, leaning forward. Dean dropped Sam's shirt tail and moved around. "Sammy?"
"Guh. D-Dean."
"What is it?" Dean watched as Sam's hand shot to his temple, the butt of his palm wedged tight and the pressure making the skin there turn white. "Sammy!"
Dean heard the buzz of the lights and saw the shadows in the room change, the lights getting brighter, static crackling filling the room audibly.
"It's….s'here. Aagh!" Bobby reached for the salt gun when the lights popped in the room, abruptly plunging them into the dimness that accompanied that time just after dusk when it's dark, but not pitch. He panned the gun around the room, stepping between Sam and whatever. Dean grabbed the demon killing knife and kept an arm draped around Sam's shoulders as his brother groaned in pain, rocking slightly.
Dean's eyes narrowed when white light appeared in the corner of the room, blinding him. The light blossomed and Bobby cried out, shielding his eyes with one hand and blindly firing with the other. The light seemed to waver. It flung out an arc of white hot light, seeming to grasp the older hunter. The light burgeoned in the room and Bobby was pushed backwards, flipping over the bed to the right of Dean, hitting the floor on the other side hard. He grunted and was still.
Dean stood, placing himself between the white light and Sam, his eyes streaming in the brightness. He raised the knife. "Come get it you sonuvabitch. I ain't lettin' you get him!"
The light moved forward, blinding in the confines of the room. It looked like something slightly more solid was looming over them in the middle of the light, taller than Sam would be if he were standing. Several inches taller than Dean at least. The light was brighter, more substantial in the middle, the glare somehow whiter. Dean flipped the knife in his hand quickly, throwing it dead center into the light. It stopped midair about a foot from the thing before it fell to the carpet, the superheated metal glowing white and melting the fibers of the synthetic rug with a sizzle. Sam stood, backing quickly away from the thing, his rapid breathing and pale features letting Dean know how distressed his brother was.
"Stay away from me!" Sam cried, the terrified sound assaulting Dean's ears and making him determined to stop this thing. Dean rushed the light, throwing punches. The form wavered as if it was receiving them, even though Dean felt his hand pass harmlessly through the light, leaving him off balance and having to compensate. The thing threw out a blinding arm and Dean felt himself flying.
"Ungh!" the cry was ripped from Dean's lips when his head and lower back impacted the bathroom door frame. His vision went black before he even hit the hard tile of the bathroom, laying half in, half out of the room.
"Dean! No!" Sam cried, starting for his brother when the light advanced on him, seeming to move in a blink and cut him off from his sibling. "NO! Don't touch me!" Sam's eyes widened, his pupils pinpricks in the blinding glow. Sam backed away raising his hands, and the figure rushed him. Sam felt agony.
*Supernatural*
I feel terror streak through my veins as I watch the knife I threw stop dead a foot before the mark I knew I should be able to hit. I watch the metal glow white hot and fall to the carpet, sinking slightly as it melted a hard spot in the poly fibers. The smell of burning nylon seeped into my nostrils and rage filtered through me when I heard my brother whimper in fear and pain. Not gonna let that thing hurt him! I rush it, punching. It's the only thing I know to try. Shotguns don't work, knives don't work. I feel the thing stagger, then feel myself stagger as my fist passes through it, skin scorching and stinging like I touched a hot stove. I feel myself get picked up and thrown away like a piece of trash. I feel my back hit the wall painfully, then my head. Then…nothing but the sense that I failed Sammy horribly, and black.
*Supernatural*
Oh god no! "Stay away from me!" I feel my heart hammering. The crackle of light filaments is filling my ears, seeping into my brain. It sounds like something is talking to me. Sinister whispers threatening to drive me insane and I'm so scared. God, help me I'm scared. It gets louder as it gets closer to me and I wanna rip my ears off. I back away, I can't help it. I wasn't as scared- out of control- of Lucifer, of Michael as I am this thing and I have no idea what it even is. All I know is I'm about ready to shit myself and I can't calm down. I watch, heart ready to burst from it's cage when the thing throws m'brother, the only thing that's keeping me from running is the fact he's unconscious, out cold and helpless. I start towards him, crying out his name when I notice blood rolling in fat droplets down the side of his neck from somewhere at the base of his skull. It steps in front of me and thick, blinding white arms reach out. Hands that I can't distinguish touch me, lift me from the floor, and white hot fire rips through my soul.
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