CHAPTER 18

…there was a distinct knocking coming from the other side of the closed and marked storage room door.

Someone was in there. Someone brought here from hell.

"Dean!" Tasha cried and rushed towards the door, yanking the metal handle and pulling it open.

"Tasha wait!" Sam yelled in alarm. He wasn't sure why but he had a really bad feeling about this. He wanted that knock to be his brother more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life but somehow he knew it wasn't going to be Dean. Nothing came that easy, not in his experience.

He was right. When Tasha threw the door open, it wasn't his brother standing there. Instead the brunette was greeted by a seven foot snarling beast with yellow fangs and glowing amber eyes. It was vaguely human-looking and was fast, fast enough that it swiped a clawed hand out at Tasha and sent her skidding violently across the floor.

"Tash!" Sam cried in horror as he watched her slam brutally into the far wall. He was already rushing forward towards the beast but Ruby got there first. The agile demon slashed at the giant newcomer with a knife and succeeded in opening a six-inch slice across its cheek before it batted her away. She grunted as she smacked into the doorframe so hard that the impact ripped the metal door off its top hinge.

Sizing up the monster, Sam decided a weapon would be prudent, preferably a large one, so he grabbed a piece of steel pipe from the floor and swung it as the beast charged into the room. He dealt a swing worthy of Mark McGwire but if its effect was any indication, it definitely wouldn't be classified as a home run. More like a foul ball or a flat-out strike. The beast yanked the pipe out of his hands and lashed out at him. He leaned back but it still managed to cuff him on the shoulder and knock him down. He threw his arm up to defend against the next blow but Ruby diverted it by lunging at the beast.

As Ruby was grappling with the creature that was more than twice her size, Sam got to his feet and noticed that Succorbenoth was slowly creeping towards the exit. "Stay right where you are!" he barked, stopping the demon in its tracks. He turned to check on Tasha to see her pushing herself to her feet, her face twisted in obvious pain. Hurt but clearly alive.

"What is this thing?" he hissed at Ruby, jumping back in the fight as she took a nasty hit on the shoulder.

"An Olag-Hinau," she wheezed. "A Hell troll!"

Sam turned to Tasha. "Wooden stakes!" he cried. "Get the wooden stakes!" He watched long enough to be sure she understood his meaning before jumping back into the fray to help Ruby. Tasha didn't look pleased but she obediently turned and ran towards the door. Trolls could only be killed with a wooden stake to the heart, though Hollywood had since falsely claimed this as the method of wasting a vampire. The stakes were in the Impala and there wasn't a suitable replacement handy in the room.

The troll wrapped its clawed hands around Ruby and lifted her up with an enraged snarl before slamming her down on the floor so hard Sam could hear bones cracking. He winced at the sickening sound and grabbed his shotgun from the duffle on the floor, firing repeatedly at the beast to draw its attention away from the demon. The rock-salt rounds obviously hurt it but didn't seem to be having any lasting effect and Sam was soon knocked sideways by a thick, greenish arm that slammed into his chest. He struggled to get back up but ended up having to scurry clumsily away from the furious troll.

He glared up at Succorbenoth as finally he got to his feet. The demon still stood where Sam had ordered him stay, his arms folded over his chest as he laughed loudly at the beating his captors were taking. Sam heard Tasha running back in the door and got to his feet just in time to catch the wooden stake she tossed in his direction. He lunged quickly at the troll but his forceful jab missed its mark and sank into the beast's meaty shoulder.

The troll roared loudly and grabbed the hunter by the throat, lifting him in the air and trudging forward to slam him against the wall. Sam was sure his trachea was going to be mush any second and his hands instinctively tugged at the clawed fingers wrapped around his neck. He kicked out desperately but, although his knees were hitting solid mass, his efforts were futile. He saw Ruby finally managing to get to her feet in his peripheral but it was Tasha who reached the troll first.

He heard her wooden stake squelch into the troll's back and the iron grip on his throat released immediately. The beast wobbled a few steps backwards, flailing his arms behind him in an attempt to remove the deadly wooden spike that had clearly not penetrated deeply enough to pierce the beast's heart. As Sam sucked in a gulp of much-needed air, he saw Ruby step up and slam her palm into the protruding stake, driving it so far into the troll that he could see it poking out of its chest.

The troll lurched and released a strangled howl, thrashing wildly in every direction before toppling heavily to the floor, smothering several candles from the binding alter and sending Dean's amulet skittering across the floor.

"Shit!" cried Sam, his voice hoarse from the punishment his throat had just been dealt. He jerked his head towards Succorbenoth, his heart skipping a beat. "Stay there!" he shouted but his order had no effect. The altar's power had been broken. The demon lifted his hand towards all three of them and Tasha went flying backwards, pinned to the wall with his demon mojo. Sam knew it would have no effect on him but was mildly surprised to see that Ruby was also immune. Could demons not fling other demons?

The hunter's previous toying with the now-released gate demon was now coming back to bite him on his ass. Succorbenoth could have tried to make a run for it but was clearly not going to let his humiliation go unpunished for he charged the two left standing. Before Sam could focus on throwing any mojo at Succky, the freed demon knocked Ruby away as if he was swatting a fly and barreled straight at him. He barely flinched at the fist Sam landed in his borrowed face and returned the favor with a loud snarl. Sam went down hard, his vision blurring at the impact. The demon jumped on him and started punching him viciously, clearly determined to kill the hunter the old-fashioned way.

He heard Tasha screaming his name from where she was pinned, her voice laced with fear, but couldn't see past the blows being rained down on him. He was still struggling to roll out of harm's way when the attack suddenly stopped. He lowered his defensive arm to see lights flashing behind Succorbenoth's cheeks and eyes and the demon collapsed down on top of him with a gargling exhale.

He shoved the heavy body off to see Tasha drop from where she had been pressed to the wall and Ruby hovering over him with her demon-killing knife in her hand, dripping with fresh blood.

"No!" Tasha cried, sinking to her knees and rolling the dead man Succorbenoth had been possessing over, feeling desperately for a pulse. Sam pulled himself off the floor and threw Ruby a sharp look.

"Damnit!" he cursed. "We needed him!"

Ruby glowered at both of them. "We need you too, Sam," she fired back. "It was you or him!"

"Are you sure he's dead?" Tasha asked frantically, pulling the dead guy's eyelids open and peering down into their empty depths. "The demon, I mean; not the old dude."

"He's gone," Sam breathed, swallowing hard in his effort to contain his bitter disappointment. That had been his last chance at saving his brother.

"Can we resurrect him?" Tasha wasn't giving up.

"He's a hundred percent dead," Ruby explained, holding up the demon-killing knife. "Not exorcized, not in Hell…dead."

Tasha jumped to her feet and ran to the storage closet, leaning over the twisted, broken door and looking wildly into the dark room. "Can we re-open the door without him?" she asked in a strained tone. "It brought the troll over, maybe it's still open."

"Tash," Sam said softly, his voice heavy with emotion but she didn't seem to hear him. "Tash," he repeated a little louder. "It's over."

Tasha shook her head. "No," she said heatedly. "No. We can open it again…we can…we can go through ourselves and get him…we can…we can…" She let the sentence trail off, her last words coming out shaky and desperate as she rested her pleading eyes on Sam.

Sam tore his gaze away from her, still grappling with his own feelings and not wanting to give in to the pain and anguish he was feeling, a feat he was sure he wouldn't be able to accomplish if he kept watching Tasha's heartbreaking reaction to their failure. Instead he got to his feet and started to gather their weapons, avoiding eye contact with her altogether. He reached for the anger and rage he could feel boiling deep within himself and pulled them to the surface, deciding they were easier to deal with than the hurt. "We gotta go," he said brusquely. "Let's get these bodies salt-and-burned and buried."

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The drive back to the motel was quiet, the only sound being the purr of the Impala's engine. Sam couldn't help but notice the classic beauty didn't sound as smooth as she used to under Dean's loving care but he had no guilt to spare for her. Every ounce he had was once again tied up in thoughts of his brother and how he had failed him yet again. Yesterday, he had almost accepted that he wouldn't be saving Dean and had instead shifted his focus to Lilith. Then this night had offered renewed hope and an incredible, unexpected last chance but in the end had just served to remind him how much he still missed his brother.

Tasha sat in the back seat and remained silent the whole trip, staring blankly out the window into the Illinois night. It occurred to Sam that this was all new to her; that she had only found out about Dean's deal a couple of days ago and was still working her way through the early stages of grief. To have a chance to bring the man she loved back then have the opportunity ripped away again must be unbearable for her also. He remembered the all-encompassing despair he had suffered the first few weeks after Dean had died and didn't envy her now for he had no doubts she still loved Dean. Despite only having known him for two months and despite him ending it with her a full three months ago, she still loved him. That much was clear.

They arrived back at the motel at four o'clock in the morning, the sun's first rays still a couple of hours away. Ruby said she had somewhere to be and disappeared in her own car and Tasha simply hauled her boots off and curled up on the bed without saying a word. Sam removed his own shoes and lay down next to her, his arms folded under his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

The barely perceptible hum of the air conditioner was almost deafening in the utter silence and Sam felt a brief feeling of dread when he realized he was alone with his thoughts. He hated these moments when he had too much time to think. He would prefer to be out hunting something or killing something – anything that would take his mind off Dean and the pain his memory caused him. He had been avoiding moments like this for two months and had become pretty adept at replacing the wallowing misery with danger and action. Normally he would be calling Ruby right now and demanding she find some random demon he could gank but this time that wasn't an option. He glanced over at Tasha, who was lying still with her back to him. He couldn't leave her alone right now.

It was Tasha who broke the silence, though she didn't turn around as she spoke. "He's not coming back, is he?" she asked him softly.

Sam swallowed. He had come to the same conclusion the moment he had seen Ruby pulling her blade from Succorbenoth's back.

"No," he answered simply, his heart filling with compassion and pity, emotions that seemed strangely foreign to him by this point. "No, he's not."

She rolled over to face him and Sam wasn't surprised to see tears welling in her lower lids. She was close to him, close enough that he could feel her breath and her head was now resting on the pillow just beneath his elbow. He lowered his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder and she immediately snuggled up to him, laying her cheek on his chest.

"What do you think it's like down there?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Sam replied honestly. "I don't want to know."

Her hand slid up to his neck and she gently pulled the amulet out from under his t-shirt. She wrapped her fingers around it and rested her closed hand on his chest. "He was good," she said finally. "He was one of the good guys…a hero. He didn't deserve to go to Hell."

Sam realized that this was the first time she had spoken of Dean in the past tense. "I'm sorry," he said in a throaty voice. "He wouldn't be in Hell if it weren't for me. If I'd stayed dead, he'd be fine."

"No he wouldn't," Tasha rebutted quickly. "If you were dead, he'd have been destroyed." She glanced up at him. "You HAD to know that, Sam."

Sam let his breath out slowly. Yes, he knew that. Growing up he had found Dean's brotherly devotion suffocating and had seen it as a sign of weakness. But during the last three years they had been back on the road together, he had come to appreciate and eventually return the unconditional love Dean had for him and had developed a sincere and deep respect for the man that Dean was. The irony wasn't lost on Sam that he had finally come to understand Dean right before he had lost him.

"It still should have been me," he breathed.

"Don't say that," she whispered back. "It shouldn't have been either of you."

Sam didn't answer, instead staring silently at the ceiling and liking the sound of her words. Usually when he expressed his guilt over Dean's fate the response was assurances from Ruby that he would have his chance for revenge. Reminders that it was the white-eyed bitch who had dragged Dean to the pit and that if Sam practiced his powers he would eventually be able to destroy her. Tasha's less vengeful response blossomed some almost-forgotten sentiments inside him. Something other than anger.

He found he liked the feelings he was experiencing. Grief and sorrow hurt but he was enjoying the break from the coldness of the constant rage and stony determination he bore of late. It was for that reason that Tasha's next words struck an uncomfortable chord inside him and gave him a feeling of dissappointment and worry.

"It was Lillith's doing," she said, a sharp edge in her voice. "We should go after her. She deserves to die."

Sam wasn't completely oblivious to what was happening to him – how his need for revenge and hatred for Lillith was changing him. He knew somewhere in the far corners of his mind that drinking the drops of demon-blood was affecting him also and that he was starting to justify his actions with less and less opposition from his conscience. Hearing Tasha speak of going after Lillith, however, scared him. The thought of her turning into what he was becoming made him nauseous and was wrong on so many levels. She was good and loving and beautiful and he didn't want to see all that destroyed. He didn't want her to change. He didn't want this for her. Dean wouldn't want this for her.

He rolled toward her and placed his other arm on her shoulder, gripping it hard enough that she swept her brown eyes upwards and gave him a questioning look.

"Lillith will get her due," he said confidently. "But right now she's way too powerful and Dean wouldn't want you to get yourself killed chasing after her."

"Yeah well, Dean's gone," she argued, though her voice hitched at the mention of Dean's name. "And I can't not do anything," she added, pulling away from him and sitting up on her knees. "I need to do something now."

Sam pulled himself up so he was sitting also, his face level with hers. "Hey," he soothed. "I know how you feel. You're angry. I'm angry too but…"

"I'm angry, sure," she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "But that's not it. I just need to be doing something." She gave him a look that Sam could only describe as one of fear and desperation before continuing. "I can't just lie here and think about him, Sam," she told him, her hand tapping her heart a couple of times to demonstrate why.

Sam understood. He sighed in genuine sympathy. He knew exactly what she was feeling and he knew exactly where trying to avoid that pain would lead her. He cupped her face with his hands and offered her his most sincere 'Sammy-feels-your-pain' look, the one his brother had always made fun of him for when they were interviewing grieving relatives.

"It won't work," he told her. 'Believe me, I know. You can keep busy hunting anything and everything or chasing Lillith or ganking as many demons as you can find but trust me, it doesn't take the pain away." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently against hers. "It still hurts like hell every second of the day," he whispered.

She leaned into him and closed her eyes but didn't say anything.

"Nothing works," Sam continued. "I spent weeks trying to keep busy to keep my mind off Dean," he admitted. "When I wasn't almost getting myself killed trying to get him back I was keeping myself so drunk I could barely think."

He paused and felt her start to quiver, her arms sliding forward to grip his sleeves. "I have this hole inside too, Tasha, and it's not going away," he rasped. He hadn't expected to share that bit of truth about himself as he had become so adept at keeping it all inside but he felt an unusual bond with this girl, one he couldn't quite explain, and the words had just tumbled out.

She slid her arms around him and hugged him close, smothering small sobs into his neck. He held her tightly and closed his eyes, breathing deep, slow breaths. At this moment, he felt the closest to his brother that he had since the day Dean had died. That connection, he realized, was because he felt the most like his old self that he had since that horrible day, the difference being that he was actually feeling. Caring about something, someone, had become nothing but a distant memory.

She wept in his arms for what seemed like a long time and Sam held her patiently, fighting back his own wave of emotion that was threatening to surface. Eventually her sobs subsided and she pulled away, giving him an apologetic look before lying back down. Sam lay down also and he held his arm out as an offer to cuddle. She wriggled closer, again laying her head on his chest and draping an arm over him. Sam was surprised at how relaxed and casual the intimacy was but couldn't deny it felt nice and, a bit unexpectedly, it didn't feel wrong.

"Sam?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?"

"I've been alone a long time," she began, sucking in a deep breath of air as if preparing for a speech. "And I was okay with it for years," she continued, "Until I met Dean and traveled with you two for a while. Those two months with you guys were the best months of my life." She turned her face up towards his. "And not just because your brother was a fantastic lay," she added with a hint of a smile.

Sam's chest heaved in silent laughter and his nose wrinkled in distaste. "TMI, Tash," he grinned.

"Still a prude, I see," she chuckled in return before her smile faded and she carried on. "Those three months after you guys went your own way were the loneliest I've ever felt," she told him, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look down into his eyes. "So I was thinking…maybe we could stick together for a while? Go on some hunts? Watch each other's backs?" she suggested with a pleading look. "As friends, you know," she added quickly.

Sam was aware she was holding her breath and staring at him waiting for his reply. His mind spun with all the implications and consequences of allowing her to stick with him and he struggled for an answer. He had to admit, he had been glad to have her show back up in his life and remind him of his old self. She had a friendly nature and he had enjoyed her company even in the months while Dean was alive. She was a decent hunter and he liked the thought of working with her again and especially the thought of looking out for her and watching her back.

But most of all, he realized, he liked himself better when she was around. He didn't like who he was becoming and sometimes it scared him how cold and callous he could be, especially with a bit of demon blood in his system. He knew he should stop and was suddenly aware that he didn't care enough about himself to even try. But he did care about Tasha. The truth was, she could help him far more than he could help her. She could be his conscience, his reason for letting go of the all-consuming hatred he felt for Lillith, for adhering to his brother's dying wish that he keep hunting the way their father had taught them. Maybe he wasn't beyond saving after all.

He met her gaze and smiled. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I guess you can stick around."

She rolled her eyes but gave him a genuine smile as she lay back down next to him. "You guess so?" she teased. "Gee, don't sound enthusiastic or anything."

"I would love for you to stick around," he told her sincerely.

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A/N: Hi there! Hope you enjoyed this chapter - I wanted to demonstrate where Sam and Tash were emotionally before all the excitement starts up next chapter :-)