Legalities: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW Network. I am not making any money from this. I am simply playing in the amazing sandbox that is the Supernatural Universe.
Warnings: This is my take on what would have been bad enough to send Sam into a confessional as a child. Taken from a comment made by Sam in the season 8 finale "Sacrifice".
It's unabashed hurt Winchester. Dean suffers because of a choice that Sam makes in a moment of selfish anger. Will he get the chance to make things right before Dean is destroyed forever? Can their father put aside his own obsessive anger and his need to hunt long enough to track down both Sam and Dean? Or will his obsession destroy his sons.
If you do not like the violence, then DO NOT read this story. It revolves around the brothers and their relationship and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. So here is my take on the one and only time Sam confessed his greatest sins.
Rating: T with possible upgrade to MA at a later point if it takes a really dark turn.
NO SLASH/ BROTHERLY LOVE AND FAMILY ANGST ONLY
Please Review if you want to see this one continue. Okay, so there is a problem with this posting, so I am going to reload it. I'm sorry if you get multiple notifications. Apologies.
Chapter Thirteen
Changing Memories
Bobby stared out the window to the setting sun. The colors were beautiful, reds mixed with orange and even some purples. But it didn't reflect his mood at all. Inside he felt black. His concern for the boy fighting for his life a few rooms over was overwhelming his ability to put this job into focus. John and his sons had taken a place in his heart that had remained vacant after the death of Bobby's wife. He'd sworn that he wouldn't allow anyone to get that close again…ever.
And then the Winchesters had entered his life. John had shown up holding Sam tightly against his chest and Dean had been clutching his father's jeans. His luminous green eyes reflecting a pain so deep that Bobby had felt it, even in the child's silence. It had taken weeks before Dean would leave either his father or Sammy's sides. Eventually, he'd started following Bobby around the old salvage yard. The boy still refused to speak, but he learned faster than any child Bobby had ever been around. The little boy had an affinity for engines and he was soon pointing out the different parts that made the old ford run. Bobby had been fixing it for a friend of his and it had been nice to have someone else with him…he hadn't realized that he'd gotten so lonely over the years.
John had spent much of that time combing through Bobby's books. The man had been obsessed with learning as much about the supernatural as possible…to the exclusion of everything else…including his tortured middle son. It had been hard to watch, but what did a person say to someone that had just learned that all the horrors they thought were fake…were real? It was dicey proposition to be sure…so Bobby had stayed silent. But he'd made it his mission to keep the little blonde haired boy engaged. The only thing that he'd noticed about the kid was an unusual connection to the baby.
Dean hadn't wanted to get too far or stay gone too long without running back into the big old house and checking on Sam. At first it had confused Bobby a bit…right up until John had explained what had happened and why Dean seemed so concerned about the six-month-old.
Bobby heaved a sigh and pulled his cap off his head, slapping it against his thigh in agitation. These boys had suffered so much at their young ages and he hated it. He considered what they were up against now and it was like waiting for the proverbial 'other' shoe to drop. It wasn't going to be pretty.
He stepped away from the window and trudged back to the coffee maker on the counter in the waiting room. John had wanted to get Dean out of the hospital as quickly as possible. Not because he wanted to short-change the lads care…but because if the hospital looked too deeply into the insurance, they would find that Dean was in fact not a twenty-nine year old Japanese man.
Bobby had argued against that for the time being. They didn't know enough about Dean's condition to move him and risk the after-effects of the drugs. They'd both seen his body seize up and the confused glaze to his eyes before he'd been taken down. It was a problem…Bobby pulled his phone out and checked for missed calls. Nothing. Come on guys…help us out here. He thought silently. He replaced his ball cap and headed back toward the boys room.
The screaming whine of the monitors had him running the last few steps and he froze in the doorway as the nurses and on call doctors shocked Dean's still body.
"Clear!" The doctor called before sending the electricity arcing through the sixteen-year-olds body. Dean's back arched up and his head lolled to the side.
Sam's hands were covering his mouth in alarm. His eyes were wide and flashing back and forth between Dean and their father. John was leaned against the wall at the end of Dean's bed. The distress clearly evident in his own gaze. He knew what the medical men did not…that they weren't just battling a drug…they were battling something concocted by demons.
The monitor continued to whine in a steady beep. "Everyone clear, up the voltage to three hundred and push the epinephrine." The doctor roared out orders and John moved to Sam's bed when a whimper escaped the young man's throat.
Bobby shifted his weight and stepped out of the room. His fingers were flying over the buttons on his phone as he called Pastor Jim.
"Hey Jim. Yeah, yeah…no…he ain't doing too good. You find anything?" Bobby's free hand was scrubbing down his face in apprehension.
"The only thing I've been able to work out is that you need a vial with the original drug mixture. If we can find that, then we work backwards and figure out what we're dealing with here." Jim's voice was even, but Bobby could hear the unease resonating beneath it.
"Something you ain't telling me?" He pushed.
Jim took a deep breath. "Never could get one over on you…if we can't find that, this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better."
Bobby closed his eyes slowly when he heard the heart rate monitors slip into the steady beat of a normal rhythm. "So one of needs to go back to the warehouse and track that down." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.
"That about sums it up…" Jim answered quickly.
"Okay then." Bobby answered immediately. He peeked around the corner and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he saw Dean again back with the land of the living. "I'll get right on that."
XXXX
Sometimes dreams are so much worse than reality. And Dean was floating inside the dreams brought on by withdrawals. He had nothing to compare them to, having never been addicted to anything…but they were tearing him apart on a fundamental level. A very small part of him was aware of this and unable to do anything about it.
Dean leaned against the wall as the shape-shifter stalked toward him. It was wearing his father's face, but Dean knew deep down that this wasn't John Winchester. Sam was bound and kneeling in a corner of the old house. The walls were falling in and the wood was splintered with spikes protruding from the old studs. The place smelled like rotted garbage and the fading light of the afternoon sun wasn't leaving much for either Winchester to see by.
"It's going to be okay, Sammy." He called. His little brother's confused gaze lifted to meet his and he simply nodded. Sam didn't understand what was happening here…but Dean did.
They had thought that it was their father picking them up from school. But the shifter had made a fatal error when it had allowed Dean and Sam to pick the music. It had set off that alarms inside of Dean and he'd gulped his alarm down. He hadn't come up with the rules of the car…their father had. 'Driver picks the music…shotgun shuts his cakehole'. That's the way things had been for as long as Dean could remember…and the breach in protocol had triggered Dean's distress.
He didn't know where their father was and small very scared part of him prayed that he wasn't dead. Dean was fifteen and Sammy was only eleven…they couldn't survive without their father…and he knew it.
"So you're the one, huh?" The shifter said as John's normally blue eyes shifted to almost white when Dean's light hit it in the eyes. The flare was about the only way to tell a shifter from the person they were impersonating.
"The one?" Dean questioned as his gaze flashed to Sam again and then back to the thing talking to him. He'd never felt hate pulse through him as strongly as it did when the bastard walked over to Sam and kicked him in the side.
Sam 'oomphed' in pain but kept quiet otherwise.
"You do that again and I swear to God that I'll peel the skin from your bones." He breathed in a low steady voice. If ice could have dripped from the words…it would have.
Shifter-John smiled and stepped forward. "Well, then I suppose I better show what's behind door number two." He moved and Dean's gun followed him as he shoved a door open. There on the floor, bound and gagged…and unconscious was their father. A bloody wound that gaped across the front of his head.
"Dad…" Dean said quietly. The barrel of his gun dipped slightly. "Is he…" He couldn't bring himself to say 'dead'.
The shifter chuckled. "Dead?" it supplied quickly. "No…but that could change."
Dean's green gaze flickered back up to the shifter's stolen eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I find I get bored easily…so what I want from you is for you to choose." He reached down and hauled Sam's body closer to their unconscious father.
Sam's body tightened in pain and he stared at Dean before turning to look at their father. They could both see the rise and fall of John's chest as breathed.
It only took a moment for Dean to understand what the son of a bitch was saying. It wanted him to choose between his little brother…the kid he'd sworn to protect ever since the day he'd carried him from the nursery…and their father. The man that Dean was so loyal to that he almost couldn't separate his wants and needs from his fathers. It was an impossible choice.
"No." He said breathily. "I can't."
The shifted lifted an eyebrow and stepped behind Sam and John. Dean heard the hammer of its gun cock back and his heart froze in his chest. The barrel shifted back and forth between his father and his brother in some messed up game that he didn't want to play. "I can choose for you? Either way, one of them dies…just how I do things." It smiled, and John's normally jovial face lit up malevolently. "You know that he'd choose Sam, right?"
Dean's eyes dropped to the ground. He didn't want this bastard knowing that 'yes' he knew that. As much as he loved their father and the man loved him…they would both 'always' put Sammy first…it was an unspoken agreement between them.
When it read the truth in Dean's eyes it snorted. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Dean refused to give it the satisfaction of an answer. His eyes connected with Sam's and he wanted to cry when he saw the huge tears start to roll down his face. "It'll be okay, Sammy." He whispered.
"Choose!" The shifter cried and again shifted the gun from John to Sam.
"No!" Dean ran forward and threw his body in front of Sam, between the gun and his baby brother.
"Dean…what about dad?" Sam said in whisper.
"What about dad indeed!" The shifter said as sound of pistol firing resounded through the room…and Dean's heart stopped.
XXXX
Sam leaned against the pillows and watched as the doctors, once again, desperately tried to save his brother's life. The guilt over this whole mess was over-whelming and he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. His body sagged and he looked over at their father. John Winchester's eyes were wide and he was so silent that it actually scared the youngest Winchester. Their father wasn't every this silent. Within moments the doctors got Dean stabilized. They debated on removing him from the shared room, but John had argued that Dean would be a mess if he woke up without knowing where his little brother was.
The lie he'd told them that the boys had been on a wilderness trip and then stumbled upon some backwoods crazies had made the doctors more sympathetic to the boy's plight.
"He's going to be okay, Sam." John said as he patted the boy on the shoulder. He was careful of Sam's injuries, but wanting to comfort him just the same. The doctor's left the room and Sam and John were staring at the still form in concern.
"This is my fault, dad." Sam whispered, his voice breaking on his father's name.
"Sammy…he doesn't blame you…he would never do that." John had seen what Dean was willing to sacrifice for his little brother and he'd used that on occasion. It wasn't something that he was necessarily proud of, but it was a necessary evil when hunting the supernatural.
Tears leaked from the corners of Sam's almond shaped eyes as he turned the large kicked-puppy-look on his father. "But I do…" He whimpered…his lower lip trembling as emotion boiled up from the depths of his soul.
John furrowed his eyebrows and sank onto the bed near Sam's legs. "Sammy, Dean loves you. He knows that you were just upset…and so do I." He pulled his youngest son into a hug. "But right now we need to focus on Dean. He's going to need all of us to fix what the son of a bitch did to him." Sam wrapped his arms around his father and allowed himself to be held. He hadn't done that since he was eleven and they'd been tracking a shape-shifter. He and Dean had been tacking hostage and their father had come after them…and what he'd done to that shifter had been like something out of a horror movie. If Sam had ever doubted how much their father loved them, that would have set him straight. The damn thing had tried to make John choose between his sons and he'd refused…saying that he could never pick one of them over the other.
"How do I fix this?" Sam asked with a hiccup. Dean's monitor a steady sound in the background of the room.
John pulled in a deep breath and leaned away from his slightly. "I don't know…maybe try asking for it?"
"Ask who? Dean's still unconscious."
"Tell you what, Sam. You think about that and let me know what you decide." John stood up and ran his fingers through Sam's long hair. "We gotta get this cut soon, kiddo."
Sam turned glassy eyes on his father and then narrowed them at the suggestion. "I like it longer." He said with a slight smile. Sam knew that the long hair bothered not only his father, but also his brother…which was an excellent reason to keep it long.
"Hmmm." John answered before walking from the room in search of Bobby.
Sam's gaze drifted back to Dean and he blinked in surprise when he saw the jade-green eyes staring back at him in silence. "Dean?"
Dean blinked but he didn't answer as he drifted back off into the drug induced sleep.
"I'm going to make this right, Dean…I promise." Sam said to the sleeping form of his older brother.
XXXX
"So that's plan? Go back and try to find some of that demon-drug-concoction?" John asked as he leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "What's the alternative?"
Bobby sighed. "You don't want to find out."
"What?!" John shot back in alarm.
"It's bad…so let's find that drug and fix that kid."
"What do you mean by bad?" John pressed.
Bobby sighed loudly and shook his head. "It could rewrite his memories…he won't be the Dean we know anymore…and it's not fixable."
"Jesus…" John groaned.
TBC…
Author's Note: So yeah, there's definitely going to be a sequel since I want to explore the drugged part of this storyline now. Sam is still working up to the confession and John and Bobby are dealing with the after-effects. And Dean is waking up in the next chapter…so there's that.
Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter! And I hope that everyone has a great New Year's Eve! Thank you: BranchSuper, shadowdancer33996, babyreaper, kracken96, mb64, HpDork Freakazoid, need2no, janiekm, Sylvie-winchester, Idreamofivan, Beakers47, dandy44, Nina Ferraro, 1hotpepper, ncsupnatfan, reannablue, and shaxpersis.
PLEASE REVIEW: It makes a great New Year's gift for the writer…namely me.