Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Erik Kripke.
A/N: I know it's a little bit later than some of my other updates, but here it is at last. I can say with perfect honesty that it was a real treat to return a certain character in the second half of this fic. What a joy to write her. Oh, and by the way, SAMMY POV AT LAST! Don't worry, though. There will be more in the future!
Special thanks: To Merisha for betaing (and helping me work out some character developments for someone you will meet soon), Kaorukamiya307 for keeping me motivated without letting me spoil any (well, maybe a little) of the story. And, of course, to everyone who reviewed! Merisha, Kaorukamiya307, Stargazer86, Mandy543, Shinaria, and Lilithakaducky! Ya'll rock so hard! And to everyone who didn't review... I know you wanted to. *winkwinknudgenudge* But in all seriousness, thank you EVERYONE so much for reading!
Bonus treat: Okay. So I haven't exactly had any requests for this... but I've decided to start posting some youtube videos that have really helped me with the writing.
This one has really been the themesong of this whole story, so it's the first one I'm going to give to you. Really, every time I hear it I want to write more, it's so well done.
youtube. com /watch?v=spFPyWT7pcY
And just for yucks, this one consistently makes me smile: youtube. com/watch?v=M56NvAs547s (cause let's face it. He IS that sexy)
(btw, I might change the story summary... again. Just cause I don't really like it.)
Chapter 5:
Dean jerked awake, eyes wide as he struggled to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. The harsh, sporadic flashes had been replaced by a dim, consistent light, ragged screams transforming into the calls of songbirds as the blood on his hand became cold sweat. The world was at peace for the moment, but all too soon it would give way to the burning horror of hell.
"Sorry to wake you," Bobby apologized. "But it's about time you and Sam headed to the bus station."
"Huh? Oh, yeah," Dean grunted as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "Is Sam up?"
"Naw, I was just about to go wake him. You wash up a bit, get some food in you. Take some along for Sam to eat on the way."
Dean nodded numbly as Bobby stood and headed down into the basement, then set about doing as he'd been told. There was something comforting about taking an order, even if it hadn't been given in the form of an order. Took his mind off of thinking for himself for just a little while. He splashed water on his face and the back of his neck, dimly aware of the red that ran from his fingers. Huh. Still had some of Ruby's blood on him.
He skipped a shave, deciding that if it was worth doing he'd do it later, and headed to the pantry. By the time he'd choked down an aged power bar, Bobby resurfaced with a hunched, haggard Sam in tow. The younger Winchester kept his head bowed, shaggy hair covering his eyes, which remained focused on the ground. Shame didn't suit Sam all that well. Even when he was wrong, he treated his admission of it as a battle won. It was that sort of attitude that had shaped every moment of his life. Without it, Sam didn't really seem like Sam.
Dean swallowed and averted his eyes.
"Come on," he instructed, tossing Sam a power bar and heading out the door. It was better to focus on the task at hand, not on the big picture. Wait until they had Jimmy and reinforced the perimeter of Bobby's house. Then he'd have the luxury to angst about everything that had happened.
It helped, seeing the Impala again. After all that had happened, what he really needed was to drive in his own car, no dead girls in the trunk or crappy country music.
He dropped into his seat, sighing as the familiar leather creaked under his weight. Sam slipped into the passenger's seat a moment later, arms crossed, pressed tightly up against the door. Probably wished he was smaller, so he could squeeze into that tiny space a little better.
Dean pulled out of Bobby's lot, clenching his jaw tightly. The engine purred, the trees whizzing by, but that was it. The sense of camraderie was gone. It had been easy to ignore its absense in the mustang, but here in the impala, their home on wheels, it should have been there, so thick and familiar he could taste it each time he breathed.
It was the lies, the secrets, chipping away at our trust until there was nothing left.
The silence was starting to get to him. Dean cleared his throat; Sam flinched. Not the best way to start off a conversation.
"So, ah, I guess you're wondering why Bobby wanted you to come along, right?" He made an effort to keep his voice calm, downright gentle. It seemed to coax Sam out of his shell.
Sam's eyes flicked to Dean, then back out the window, his arms stiffening momentarily as he muttered, "I guess".
"I figure this is Bobby's way of trying to get us to kiss and make up. Now, I don't know if you got my message or not, but... I meant what I said."
Sam went rigid at that, his face twisting in undisguised pain. Dean's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, heart pounding as he waited for Sam to find his voice. Half of him wanted this conversation to smooth over all that had happened. The other half wanted to pull over and fight.
"I thought so," Sam rasped. He licked his lips, eyes dropping to his lap, then glancing forward, and out the window again, fighting the unshed tears that shone in his eyes. "What are you going to do with me?"
Dean fought the sneer of disgust that tried to worm its way onto his face. Was this what their lives had been reduced to? Really? Cause this had never been what he'd intended.
"I guess we do what we did before. Dry you out, see what happens next."
"Even after what I did?" Sam finally turned to face him, the tears finally escaping and leaving bright tracks down his face.
"I meant what I said, Sammy," Dean assured him, in spite of the squirming in his stomach. "You're my brother, no matter what. We'll get through this."
Sam let out a disbelieving huff, shaking his head slightly.
"Brother? You said it yourself, Dean. I'm a vampire. I don't even know if I can go back."
"I never said that!" Dean snapped so suddenly he lost control, hurriedly jerking the wheel before they drove into the woods. Sam gripped the edges of his seat, eyes wide with pain and confusion.
"Yes you did," he accused in a quiet voice. "In your message. And you were right."
"Bullshit," Dean grunted. "I told you I was pissed, but I apologized, Sam."
Sam opened his mouth to protest when something occurred to him. Exhaling sharply, he shut his eyes and slumped his shoulders.
"Ruby," he ground out.
Dean had to grip the wheel even tighter, his knuckles turning white now as he contemplated just what Sam might have heard.
"Damn, I wish we could go back and kill that bitch again," he mused. "I think if I got a second chance, I wouldn't end it so quickly."
Well, Dean had thought it was funny, but Sam didn't seem to hear. He still sat hunched over, lacing his shaky fingers together, tears slipping down his face as he took deep, angry breaths.
"Hey," Dean barked, reaching out and giving his little brother a shove. "Eat your power bar."
Sam flinched away from the physical contact, but he did straighten, leaning against the window once again. The power bar wrapper crinkled as he played with it, but he never opened it.
"What are we gonna do now, Dean?" he whispered, gazing dully out the window.
What we always do, Sam. Screw up and stumble around, letting inhuman sons-of-bitches play us like violins. We'll deal with the fact that you might not be human anymore. We'll pretend to have a choice before heaven throws me to the lions and expects me to fix their problems. We'll fight and fight and die a little more every time and, if we're really lucky, we'll stop feeling every damn thing this world has to throw at us.
Sam didn't look at him, but Dean could see it in his face. He wanted to know that everything was going to be okay, and he needed to hear it from his big brother.
I'm sorry, Sammy. It's not going to be okay. I can't comfort you anymore when I'm just desperate to hold on.
"I don't know," Dean confessed guiltily, glaring at the road ahead.
They lapsed into a stifling silence that lasted until Dean pulled into the bus station and the brothers piled out of the car. It was quiet. Not that it was the sort of station that would be bustling with life, but even a station this small should have had... something. Still, it was early. Maybe that was all.
They walked together out of the parking lot, the crunching of gravel and grass under their boots the only sound in the cool morning air.
"Something scared off the birds," Sam murmured.
Yeah, no dip, Sherlock.
The porch lights had shattered, littering the wooden surface with tiny shards of glass. Dean's heart throbbed as his hopes for a peaceful pick-up were dashed away. Whatever was here, it was bound to be nasty. Seemed only the real badasses didn't bother avoiding a mess.
With sweating palms, he pushed the door open, the ching! of the doorchime cutting sharply through the air. His heart just about stopped.
Six people were unconscious around the room. Four, including the man behind the desk, had blood seeping from their ears. Instantly, their years of training kicked in. On alert, the brothers pulled their guns and knelt next to each victim, checking for a pulse and air flow, prepared to render aid if necessary. Dean couldn't help narrowing his eyes at his brother. Sam wasn't in as hot water as he'd been earlier, but... best to take that gun away later. For precaution. Shaking the unwelcome thoughts from his head, he turned his attention back to the unconscious victims.
"They're all fine over here," Dean called, sighing as he pulled away from a middle-aged woman who had managed to escape an ear-bleed.
"Yeah, here, too," Sam replied, walking over and kneeling next to his brother.
"You notice anything about these victims?" Dean asked, folding his hands together.
Sam frowned. The thought had already occured to him, then.
"None of them is Jimmy Novak."
"You call 911," Dean instructed, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm gonna check the perimeter. If he's not here, means he got lost somewhere between here and the last station.
"Right."
Sam stood, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as Dean headed out.
o-o-o
"Yes. At least four of them have punctured eardrums... No, I arrived after-"
The soft squeak of rubber-soled sneakers dragged Sam's attention away from the operator. Heart hammering in his chest, he turned slowly around.
A girl stood, hand propped up on her waist, smirking at him like he was some kind of very funny joke. She quirked one caramel-colored brow, tilting her head to the side, short hair falling into her face as she bit her lip, the smirk turning into a full-on grin.
Sam's breath caught in his throat as he slammed the cell phone shut, turning to give his full attention to the girl.
"I'd say it's good to see you again, Sam," she mewed "But what's the fun in lying if we both know it's a lie?"
It was a demon. Every instinct, including the ones he didn't even know he had, told him as much. But it was more. This demon was familiar.
"I'm sure I'd recognize you, but you look a little different," he growled.
The demon let of a short, sweet bark of laughter, taking a step toward him. He stepped back.
"Oh, this? Used to be a pretty little choir girl. I just love those sorts, you know. And, anyway, you seem to do better talking to girly meat suits, don't you?"
His heart fluttered as he recalled the feeling of violation, black smoke forcing itself down his throat. Flashes of memory; killing a man he didn't know, stringing Dean along, tying Jo up, saying things to her that would ensure that he could never speak to her again...
"Meg," he spat, fingers clenching around his gun. If only he had the colt. It had felt good shooting the crossroads demon right between the eyes. It'd probably feel fantastic to kill this bitch.
The demon rolled her eyes.
"You people. I haven't been Meg for a long time, but if that's what you want to call me, go ahead."
"What are you doing here?" Sam snarled. "Did you cause this?"
Meg licked her teeth, raising her eyes to the ceiling. She shoved her thumbs in her jean pockets and took a few steps to the side, and Sam countered her.
"I've got a lot of firepower, Sam. But this is a little more than I can manage. I'm just here to pass on a message."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She halted, tilting her head to the side. The grin dissolved into a pinched look of irritation. Still playful, still amused, but in the way a kid couldn't help being amused by a worm wriggling across his toe. "I'm supposed to tell you that your part's not over. There's still a place for you with us. Lead our armies, fulfill your destiny, yadda yadda blah blah blah. Personally, I think you ought to go screw yourself but, wait..." The grin returned. "You already did that, didn't you?"
"Get the hell out of here," Sam growled, his knuckles shining white as he gripped the gun.
"Or what? You'll shoot me like you shot my father? Last I checked, you didn't have your gun anymore. Or maybe..." she took a step toward him. He stepped back. She licked her lips and stepped again, all but giggling when Sam countered her. "Maybe you'll exorcise me again. Or kill me? Like you killed Lillith? But then, good boys don't play with fire, do they? You've become such a bad boy, Sam."
"Shut up," Sam spat, but Meg went on.
"I'm proud of you. Now don't get me wrong. I'd love to reach into your chest and rip out your still-beating heart, but I gotta say I like how you turned out. That sweet little boy I met on the side of the road? He's gone. I don't know when it started. When Dean dragged you back from wherever, or when he left you alone. But you became quite the little fighter, way tougher than I remember you being when I was in your head. If I'd known then that this is how you would have turned out, I don't think I'd have tried to hard to get Dean to shoot you. Not that I'd even have to try now. One sneeze and he'd have you on your back, begging for mercy."
Sam felt his back press up against the bus station wall, with Meg still advancing.
"The things he could do to you, Sam. Now, he never got the chance to work me over. I'd served my punishment before he showed, but... I liked to watch. The way he'd rip them apart. I'd just love to see what he could do with his own flesh-and-blood brother, what he'd say to you, how he'd make you break."
Sam's heart lurched and, suddenly, he grabbed Meg by her shoulders, spinning her around and shoving her against the wall. Shock and fury painted her face for a fraction of a second, before being replaced by a thrill of excitement.
"Hit a nerve, didn't I? You have so many nerves to hit."
"I thought you were just here to deliver a message," Sam hissed.
"You can't rob me the chance to have a little fun, can you Sam?"
He flinched, suddenly wanting nothing more than to reach out and rip her spirit to shreds, twist it around until she screamed... but even if he could still do that, he didn't want to risk it. He'd done enough damage.
"Consider your message delivered," he snapped. "Now you go and tell the others that I say no."
"Fine with me," Meg sneered. "Just let me down, and I'll go."
Sam struggled with that for a moment. He didn't want to. He wanted so badly to kill her, to make her pay for everything that had happened to him. But if he tried and he failed, she would get away, only to possess some other poor body, and she'd come back again and again.
Scowling, he pried his fingers loose one by one, she fell to the floor. He stepped back, watching as she straightened and tugged at her tank top, smoothing the wrinkles he had created by shoving her against the wall.
"Sam!"
Sam started, head whirling around to the glass door. Dean had already taken off, racing across the wide, dead field that stretched behind the station.
"See you later, Sam," Meg mewed before turning to saunter out the front. Sam had half a mind to follow her, still itching to kill her. But he was here for a reason.
Smothering the impulse, Sam turned and ran out the door, sprinting to catch up with his brother.
o-o-o
R&R