Chapter Twenty
THEN
Dean hurried to the cot, crouching in front of him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Sammy, what is it? What do ya see?"
Sam stared up at the hallucination with wide, shocked eyes. "It's Mom."
NOW
"Mom?" asked Dean in shock.
Sam nodded, too stunned to say anything else.
"What's she saying?" asked Dean.
Sam paused for a moment to listen. "She's telling me to go back out there and finish the job, that Cas is lying."
Dean stared at him. "Okay, you know that's the demon blood talking, right?"
Sam nodded. "I know."
Dean waited for a while as Sam listened to the hallucination. Even though it wasn't real, it was still their mother. Dean knew Sam would want any part of her that he could get.
"What's she saying?" asked Dean.
Sam looked up at him with a dejected look. "She's telling me to sacrifice myself…to make her death mean something."
Dean knelt next to the cot, staring up at Sam. "Sammy, whatever…" he hesitated, unable to bring himself to call this demon blood hallucination "her," "it…is telling you, it's not true. The demon blood is just trying to get you to give in. Just ignore it. Don't listen to it."
Sam began to smile a little at him before his gaze flew up behind Dean, and his eyes widened. "No!" He pushed himself off the cot, in an apparent attempt to protect his brother from something.
Dean watched in shock as Sam was suddenly thrown across the room, hitting the wall of the basement and hanging there with his feet off the floor. At first, Dean began to look for an attacker until he saw Sam's face begin to redden as his eyes rolled in their sockets.
The demon blood… he realized. Detox victims will seize uncontrollably, but for a demon blood-psychic detox…
As Dean crouched next to the cot in frozen panic, Sam suddenly spun along the wall, knocking shelves and tables to the floor. Dean jumped to his feet as Sam slammed to a stop in front of the stairs, bringing his arms up to fight off whatever he was seeing.
Dean rushed over to Sam, grabbing hold of Sam's arms. "Buffy!"
Just as he pried Sam off of the wall, an invisible force pushed Dean, sending him flying across the room. Dean landed on the stairs and fell down them, landing on the floor. He raised his head to see Sam near him on the floor, convulsing.
Sammy…
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
"Dean, what…Oh, my God…" breathed Buffy.
Dean watched in horror as Sam was suddenly lifted from the floor, spinning around before being pinned to the ceiling.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, springing to his feet.
Sam lay pinned to the ceiling with a look of terror on his face. He appeared to be silently screaming, as though he were in pain.
The fire… thought Dean. He's hallucinating dying like Mom and Jessica.
"Help me!" Dean yelled, jumping as high as he could and grabbing hold of Sam's arm.
Buffy followed suit, and together they managed to pry Sam off of the ceiling. They pushed Sam to the floor as he seized, pinning his arms to his chest.
"We gotta tie him down for his own safety," said Dean. "Where are the cuffs?"
"Under the stairs," said Buffy.
"Alright, let's get him to the cot before he has another fit," said Dean, lifting Sam by the arms as Buffy grabbed his legs.
Dean moved carefully, keeping Sam's head as safe as possible as he continued to convulse. They eased Sam down on the cot, and Dean held Sam's torso down as he seized, blood running out of the corner of his mouth and eyes rolled up in his head.
Aw, Sammy…Hang in there, bro.
********************************************SPN/BT VS************************************************ *******************
Dean sat on the living room couch, head in his hands.
"You okay?" asked Buffy.
"Can I answer that after Lucifer kills us all?" mumbled Dean.
There was silence, so Dean lifted his head to see Buffy watching him sadly from the archway into the foyer.
"Cas says there's less than ten seals left," Dean told her. "There may be only five by now. It's all ending so fast…I don't know how to stop it."
"Well, from what I hear, the Winchesters are pretty much kings of the impossible," said Buffy. "However it's supposed to be fixed, you'll figure it out. I mean, you got Castiel looking for Ruby. If anybody can find a demon, it's an angel."
The lights all over the house flickered, and they looked around at the lamps and fixtures as they blinked. The trees in front of the window fluttered in the growing breeze as Dean slowly rose to his feet.
"Oh, crap…" Dean muttered.
"Ghost or demon?" asked Buffy, tensing for the fight.
The house began to shake a little as the front window blew in, black smoke flying in as Dean dove out of the way and rolled to a crouch next to Buffy.
"Demon," said Dean, jumping up and rushing to the other side of the room.
The demon smoke spun around the room as they waited for it to materialize. After it flew around the room for a moment, it suddenly soared back out the broken window.
"Uh…" said Buffy, shrugging, "we win?"
"No, no, this isn't right…" Dean mumbled.
"It's not?" asked Buffy.
"I have never known a demon to back off a fight," said Dean, his face growing suspicious. "Something's wrong."
"Well…what?" said Buffy. "It was distracting us?"
Dean's eyes widened in alarm. "Sam." He bolted for the basement door, tearing down the stairs to find a woman standing over his unconscious brother with a bleeding hand. "Hey!"
The demon glared up at him with black eyes, giving a wicked smile as she covered Sam's mouth with her hand. Dean charged her, yanking her away from the cot. As Dean threw her towards the stairs, Buffy hurried over to Sam, wiping the demon blood off of his mouth. Dean laid into the demon, but she hit back, getting the upper hand.
Buffy quickly joined in, beating the demon back. As Buffy kicked her, Dean pulled the demon knife out of his jacket, rushing towards her. The demon waved her hand, sending Dean flying across the room as he dropped the knife. He landed next to the cot and got to his feet, turning to see the demon on the floor. Buffy was standing over it faced away from Dean.
"You killed her?" said Dean. "Nice work, Buff—"
Buffy shuddered, hunching over a little. Dean frowned as he sensed something wrong about her.
"Buffy?" asked Dean.
Buffy turned a little, wrapping her arms around her middle. She was grimacing in pain as she faced him. Dean tensed a little as Buffy groaned and fell to her knees.
"Buffy, what's wrong?" asked Dean.
Buffy's eyes flew open, pitch black. "Dean…"
Dean began to rush towards her to fight the demon until Buffy yelled in pain. When she looked back up at Dean, her eyes were clear.
"Dean…the knife…" Buffy groaned, holding her hand out.
Dean eyed the demon knife on the floor between them, trying to figure out if he could trust her. Something was different…
Buffy moaned in pain as her eyes flashed from black to normal over and over. "Hurry!"
Dean grabbed the knife, wondering if he was signing his own death sentence, and tossed it to Buffy. Buffy caught the knife, grimacing in pain once more before finally opening her mouth and letting out a scream. As she screamed, the black smoke flew out of her mouth, flying back into the girl on the floor. The second the smoke was in the girl, Buffy raised the knife and plunged it into her. As the demon died, Buffy collapsed back onto the floor, breathing heavily.
Dean stared at the dead demon. "Well, that was new."
Buffy frowned up at him. "I thought possessing demons were supposed to…you know, possess."
"They do," said Dean. "I don't know what the hell just happened. It was like it was—"
"Struggling," finished Buffy. "I could feel her trying to take her over, but the more I fought, the harder time she had doing it. Has that ever happened before?"
"I've seen people fight back sometimes for, like, a second, but I've never seen someone push a demon out of their own body," said Dean. "Maybe because you're the Slayer, it gives you more strength to fight."
"Maybe," said Buffy. "I'll ask Giles about it later. Is Sam okay?"
Dean glanced back at him; he was still unconscious. "For now."
********************************************SPN/BT VS************************************************ **************
Sam groggily opened his eyes, looking up at the blurry, spinning ceiling. He lifted his hands—or, tried to—to find them cuffed to the cot, his feet similarly cuffed. The last thing he remembered was his mother standing over Dean and charging at him in rage as he convinced Sam to ignore the hallucination. Sam had jumped up to stop her, even though she wasn't really there, and then incredible pain had burst through him as the convulsions hit.
Sam wished Dean had never been down there for that. He had never wanted Dean to see the thing he had turned into. He knew Dean was accepting him—or, at least, trying to—but he couldn't help this feeling in the back of his mind that there was something wrong with him. For all of Ruby's talk of how they were going to save the world, Sam was finding it harder and harder to hang on to that noble cause. Part of him was really starting to wonder if he had drunk that blood just for the heck of it.
The door to the basement opened, and Sam craned his head to look up at Dean heading down the stairs. Dean leaned against the railing when he got to the bottom, watching him.
"You okay?" asked Dean.
Sam shrugged a little, his hands catching on the cuffs.
"We had to," said Dean. "The demon blood was flinging you all over the room."
And I thought the aches were the withdrawal, thought Sam, pulling himself up to sit on the cot.
"Tell me something, Sam," said Dean. "Why did you do this to yourself?"
Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, confused. After all, he had come clean to him at the beginning six months ago. Dean was completely in the know.
"You know why," said Sam.
"Right," nodded Dean. "Kill Lillith. The big excuse."
Sam's frown deepened, totally confused by Dean's behavior. If Sam didn't know any better, he would say Dean was pissed. But Dean had been understanding this whole time, trying to see things Sam's way.
"But why?" asked Dean. "What, revenge?"
"Of course," Sam told him.
"Revenge for what?" said Dean. "For sending me to hell? Did you happen to notice I'm back? Alive and kicking! So, what's the point?"
"The point?" muttered Sam. "I thought I was stopping the damn apocalypse."
"My gig!" said Dean. "Not yours! The angels said so, remember? God picked me, man. He even gave me these Slayer powers to do it. So, you got any other fantastic excuses? Hmm?"
Sam shook his head, not comprehending why Dean was talking to him like he was still out there doing it. "Excuses? Dean, I stopped. We found out the real deal, and I stopped."
"Stopped what?" said Dean, narrowing his eyes at him. "Drinking demon blood?" He shook his head frustratingly, turning a hand down his face. "You know, it's like I'm still stuck in hell. My baby brother willingly allowed a demon to feed him its blood." He chuckled bitterly. "That's like my worst nightmare." His narrowed eyes quickly grew into a glare. "And you just let it happen."
"Dean, we've already talked about this," said Sam. "I was just—"
"Of course, I get it," said Dean, pushing away from the stairs and slowly pacing towards the cot. "I understand. I know why you really drink that blood, Sam."
"Just…just leave me alone," Sam pleaded, not wanting to argue about it anymore if Dean was gonna be so stubborn. And, honestly, Dean's words were starting to stab him right in the heart, and he didn't know how much more he could listen to.
"Makes you feel strong…invincible," said Dean. "Big bad wolf in a world of little pigs."
"No, you're wrong, Dean," said Sam, staring down at his legs.
"It's more than that, isn't it?" said Dean. "It's because your whole life, you've felt different, am I right?"
Okay, now, that was going too far, Sam thought.
He didn't understand why Dean was all of a sudden laying into him about this. He had been nothing but supportive this whole time. Maybe he just finally couldn't take it anymore. He had seen in the last few days what Sam had really done to himself, and was finally punishing him for it. Whatever the reason, that last comment had stung.
"Stop," Sam forced out past clenched teeth.
Dean stopped his pacing in the middle of the room. "Hit a little close to home, huh? Not different 'cause you were some lonely kid or because of your weirdo family."
"Stop it," Sam begged, not liking where Dean's implications were heading.
He wouldn't say it, would he? he thought.
No matter what Sam did, Dean would never resort to calling him a monster.
Dean leaned over next to him, glaring at him as though knowing what he was thinking. "Because you're a monster."
There it was: the one word Sam had thought Dean would never call him.
"Shut up!" snapped Sam. "Just shut the hell up!"
"You were always a monster," Dean interrupted him. "And you only feel right when you're sucking down more poison and more evil!"
"No, Dean, that's not true," Sam told him, but he had to wonder…who was he really trying to convince?
"Monster, Sam!" Dean repeated. "You're a monster!"
"Dean, no," Sam pleaded, tears forming in his eyes.
"And I tried so hard to pretend we were brothers," said Dean.
He leaned forward into Sam's face, the amulet hanging from his neck that Sam had given him all those years ago mocking the whole scene.
"That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt," growled Dean. "We aren't even the same species. You're nothing to me!"
"Sam?"
Sam's gaze snapped up to the stairs, where another Dean was standing there, staring at him with a concerned look. "Dean?"
The Dean by the cot frowned, drawing Sam's gaze. "You're seeing another hallucination, aren't you? Brought on by all that demon blood pumping through your veins."
The other Dean came the rest of the way down the stairs, watching him closely. "You okay?"
Sam glanced from one Dean to the other, trying to figure out what was going on. Was one of them real, or were they both in his head?
"Dean…" stuttered Sam, breathing faster, "I…I can't…"
"He isn't real, Sam," the Dean next to the cot told him like he was an idiot. "I am."
Sam frowned up at him and his angry glare.
"Another hallucination?" asked the Dean by the stairs, stepping towards him.
Sam jolted away from the two of them, cuffs pulling on the frame of the cot. The Dean by the stairs stopped, holding his hands up in front of him to placate Sam as the Dean by the cot smirked.
"Whoa, whoa, okay," said the Dean in the middle of the room. "It's okay. Sammy, talk to me, man. You're scaring me."
"Let me guess," said the Dean by the cot. "He's being all sensitive and concerned." He tilted his head at Sam. "Does that really sound like me?"
Sam looked back at that Dean. He did have a point. Dean was never one for the sharing and caring. Did that mean this Dean was the real one?
"Look, Sam, whoever it is, whatever it's saying, it's not real," the Dean in the middle of the room told him.
"Can't you see this is a hallucination brought on by your desire to have me not hate you?" the Dean by the cot practically shouted at him.
There it was again: proof of Dean's hatred towards him. Nothing else could make him say these things. Of course, Sam shouldn't really be surprised. It was really him that had brought this all on. His behavior had pushed Dean away.
Sam looked up at the Dean at the cot, tears welling up and falling down his face. "Dean, no…"
"Sam, it's lying!" said the other Dean after a moment.
Sam glanced over at him to see a wide-eyed look of alarm on his face.
"That's not me!" he said. "I'm your real brother!"
"I mean, think about it, Sam," said the Dean by the cot. "Have you ever known me to let something so stupid and reckless as what you've been doing the last six months just slide?"
Sam looked back over at him, conceding that it was true. Dean never let him get away with anything.
The Dean in the middle of the room suddenly closed the gap and grabbed hold of his arms. "Sam, that is not me! The Dean you've been with the past six months is me! The one acting the opposite of that is the hallucination!"
Sam looked back over at the Dean at the foot of the cot, trying to figure it all out. It was true; Dean's behavior had suddenly flipped and wasn't tracking with the way he's been since he got back from hell at all. Then again, the craziness and stress of the past few days with Sam was enough to make anyone see things in a whole new light.
"No, I don't, I—" Sam looked back and forth between the two Deans. "I can't know that for sure."
The Dean at the cot shook his head in frustration.
"Sam…"
Sam looked back at the Dean who had hold of him. His face had shifted in realization, sad and worried.
"I could never hate you," Dean told him. "I sold my soul for you! You could be the devil himself and I would still love you."
Hope beginning to stir slightly, Sam's gaze fell down to the amulet hanging from his neck. The token of familial bond roused something in Sam's memory, and he quickly looked over at the Dean by the end of the cot. Sometime during the heated discussion, the amulet had vanished from his neck.
I'm the real Dean, Sam…
"Believe in that!" said Dean, gripping Sam's arms tighter. "You gotta believe me."
Sam looked back at him, all the dread and anxiety that had built up in the last few minutes vanishing. "Dean…"
Dean let out a relieved sigh, the tension disappearing from his face. "Oh, thank God. You okay, Sammy?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," said the hallucination. "He loves you now. Just wait till the apocalypse starts. You were the one that helped Ruby get closer to killing Lillith. He is gonna hate you."
Sam looked up at the Dean hallucination, giving it a hard glare. "No. He won't."
The hallucination glared at him before he was suddenly gone. Sam looked around the room for him before gazing back at Dean.
"It's gone," Sam told him.
Dean smiled at him. "See? Big brother's always watching over you."
Sam stared blankly at him for a moment. "That sounded a lot creepier than you meant it."
"Yeah, I just realized that," frowned Dean.
At the head of the stairs, Buffy turned back towards the living room with a shake of her head. "Men."