Shadows From the Dim Hereafter

By: CoffeeManiac

Not Slash. Rated T for some mature content.

Warnings: Violence. Hints at sensitive subject matter. Lots of HurtSam. Some HurtDean.

This is it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or made this story a favorite. I hope you're satisfied with the ending.

Part 8-Conclusion

Dean stretched with a groan. A few new bruises pulled at his limbs and torso as he rolled on to his side. Something felt different and then he realized that his head didn't hurt. Other than the general aches and pains from being in a fight, he felt good.

He looked over towards Sam guessing that their father must have gone out. Dean hoped he'd bring back breakfast. Just before the fight that led them to June's house, Dean had hustled some significant cash from playing pool so he knew they had money. Paying with cash rather than fake credit cards usually meant pancakes and sausage instead of cheap burritos.

Sam blinked awake with the dull glaze of a drug induced hangover. He moaned softly as he rolled on to his back then hissed in pain and rolled back.

Dean winced in sympathy. "No comfortable position, huh?"

"No," he admitted.

"Dad's probably getting breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"God, yes. Ghouls do not know anything about fattening up their meals."

Dean cringed inwardly. "Yeah, well, all your food ends up in your legs anyway."

"That's going to pay off when I'm taller than you."

"Not going to happen, pal. You're as tall as you're getting."

"I'm fifteen, Dean, I have a good three years of growth coming. I am going to be a giant compared to you."

"Keep dreaming, kiddo."

Sam laughed but he winced a moment later then fell quiet. Dean scooted out of bed. He put his hand over Sam's forehead and found his skin warm but maybe just bed warm, not fever warm. Sam jerked away from him and Dean padded into the bathroom.

When he returned to the main room, the bedside lamp was on and he found Sam sitting up with his back against the headboard and one hand wrapped around his chest. Since the previous night, green and yellow had joined the color scheme of his bruises and his face was bloated with swelling.

"Jesus, Sammy, you look awful."

Sam pulled back slightly at the comment. "I think my other eye is open."

"Which just looks creepier. Like a marble rolling around in a corpse."

"Nice image. Thanks for that."

Dean smiled at the comment. "Can you see?"

"Depends on whether you and the room are featureless blobs or not."

Dean flipped open the cooler and pulled out a plastic bag filled with water. He brought it over and put it in Sam's hand. "Here, put that on your face. It's not ice anymore but it's plenty cold."

Sam closed his eyes as he pressed the baggie to his cheek. "I feel like crap."

"Yeah, well, you should've stayed laying down. Moving around…that's a good way to puncture something. You don't need any more holes in you."

"Couldn't lie there like that all day."

"You want anything? Water, maybe?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that'd be good."

Dean twisted the lid off a plastic bottle and gave it to Sam. He sat down on the opposite bed and leaned forward to rest his arms on his legs.

"When'd you realize they weren't them anymore?" He asked.

"It kind of hit me when I was in the cellar. But, I didn't know for sure until I saw Derek eating the dead girl upstairs."

Cringing again, Dean let his brother talk.

"I didn't know what they were at first. They made up some story about trying to keep monsters from becoming monsters. I don't know. It didn't make any sense when they said it. They were just trying to keep me from figuring them out."

"Why bother? I mean, why didn't they just kill you?"

"Didn't want to get caught. They knew you and Dad were coming back. Obviously they knew we were hunters. They wanted to keep their gravy train going."

"You want to tell me the whole thing?"

Sam shrugged then spent the next several minutes explaining about the first girl who died, the one that June said was a shapeshifter. He admitted to having doubts but he wasn't sure. Then there was the girl in the laundry room. Sam didn't believe their story of her being a witch in the making but by then he was tied up and trying to stay alive.

Dean's anger grew as he listened to each new layer of Sam's experience.

"At first, they were pretty sure Dad would believe them over me because Dad told Derek I was a screw up."

"Dad never said that," Dean interrupted.

"How do you know? You were in the kitchen with me."

"Because we talked about it. He told Derek that you were going through some stuff and he'd appreciate it if they'd be patient."

"That's not what Derek, or rather, Ghoul-Derek said."

"He was lying, Sam."

"He said a lot of stuff like that. He kept needling me about Dad and how disappointed he is in me."

"You know better than that. Or you should."

Sam shifted and pulled his arm in tighter. "How is he? Still pissed at me?"

"He's not pissed. He's worried. After what you said last night, I think he's really worried."

"What do you mean? What'd I say?"

"You know, about him hurting you on purpose when we were fixing you up."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember?"

"I don't remember much of anything after the basement. But, Dean, I wouldn't have said something like that. I know Dad would never…"

"You did say it, Sammy."

"Crap."

"I told him you didn't mean it."

"Of course I didn't. Crap, crap, crap."

Sam closed his eyes again and moved the baggie to the other side of his face. Dean almost wished he hadn't told him about the comment to Dad but he knew the two of them had to talk it out.

Dean grabbed the ice bucket and headed out to the machine. As the motor rumbled and ice crunched and plinked into the bin, he heard the Impala's engine. He turned around to watch his father pull into the nearest parking space then climb out of the car. His father didn't notice Dean as he grabbed a clear, plastic bag filled with Styrofoam containers out of the passenger seat and walked into the motel room.

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Sam opened his eyes when he heard the click of the room door. He had heard the distinctive rumble of the car and knew it would be his father. His stomach tightened at the thought of the confrontation he knew they had to have.

Dad set the bag on the table before he stopped to look at Sam. When he did, Sam recognized the tight anger in his face.

"Christ, Sammy, I'm sorry."

Dean walked in, looked between the two of them and sat down at the cheap desk in the corner without speaking.

Sam cleared his throat intending to tell his father that it wasn't his fault.

"I should've seen it," Dad said. "I never should've left you there."

"I kind of asked for it," Sam said. "Not the ghoul thing but, uh, getting left behind. I mean, I kind of…I pushed too hard and I know you needed to get rid of me for a while. I know why."

"Wait, Sam, just wait, all right?" Dad stopped, seeming to realize that he was starting to yell. He scrubbed his face, letting a long exhale escape his lips.

Speaking softer, he said, "I wasn't getting rid of you. I just needed a couple days to get myself back under control. I didn't want to risk a repeat of what happened."

Sam studied his hands for a moment. When he spoke, he heard the desperation in his voice and it surprised him. "Its okay, Dad, really. I know I'm a pain in the ass. I know you don't understand why I'm so miserable all the time. I don't even know."

"Sam, you're growing up. You're a teenager, that's all. Everyone is a little off balance at your age."

"Yeah, but…"

"No, son, listen to me, if I hadn't been so tired and so frustrated after that last hunt, we would've argued. God knows, we always argue, but I wouldn't have hit you."

"You told me to back off and I didn't."

"No, you didn't." Dad rubbed his eyes. "But, that doesn't give me a pass."

Sam glanced towards Dean who was staring at him. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped on his knees.

"Here's the thing, Sam," Dad continued. "I don't ever want that to happen again. But, now, I…I need to know if I'm going to be defined by that one moment. I need to know if you're going to get past it because I…I'm your father, Sam. I have to know."

The tears burning in Sam's eyes wouldn't come. Maybe it was because of the swelling or maybe it was just stubborn pride but he felt them sizzling. His throat filled so he coughed feeling a rock lodged there.

"It's over, Dad." When his father's expression turned from hopeful to stricken, Sam hurried on. "The fight doesn't matter anymore. We both just have to be smarter from now on. But, I…I trust you. I do."

"Last night you said…"

"Doesn't count. I was drugged and it was…I don't know, gallows humor. I don't even remember it. Dad, I mean it, it's over, we don't have to talk about this anymore."

Worry lines faded as Dad nodded and rubbed his eyes again. He turned towards Dean and cleared his throat. Sam couldn't see his face anymore but as his father stood taller, as his shoulders straightened, some of the tension dissipated.

"Let's eat before everything's cold," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"Good idea," Dad agreed. "Sammy needs to eat something before he takes any more meds."

Sam bit back the "no argument" comment that almost spilled out. He didn't think they were ready to joke yet.

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Dean sat beside Sam on one of the beds. His brother drifted in a light sleep. After their intense conversation, breakfast had passed quietly and then Dad gave Sam some painkillers and an anti-inflammatory. Once Sam was settled, Dad went out, telling Dean to stay with his brother.

Dean heard the engine of the Impala rev up and then drive away. He didn't know if his father had errands to run or just needed some time alone.

Bored and restless, Dean emptied the weapons bag and spent the next few hours cleaning handguns while Sam slept. He put the TV on, glad when he found reruns of the original Star Trek playing. It was some kind of marathon because he watched four episodes before Sam woke and asked for water. The kid had ravenously eaten his pancakes and sausage then passed out almost immediately after taking the drugs. Dean gave him a bottle of water but Sam was still drowsy and uncoordinated so he took it back then helped him drink.

Sam was lying on his side and propped up on one arm when he asked, "Did you know June wanted to, you know…" He made a swirling motion with his free hand. "…with me?"

The gesture was meaningless to Dean but he understood from the shy way Sam asked the question.

"June-June or Ghoul-June?" Dean asked, feeling cold creep into his belly.

"No. June…the real June."

"She wanted to boink…"

"Me. Yeah. I guess. That's what Ghoul-June said. She said she was doing what June wanted."

"Wait, hold on, Sam. What do you mean she was doing what June wanted?"

"You know." Sam made the weird swirling motion again.

"Did you and the ghoul…did you have sex with it?"

Sam put his head on the pillow.

"No. But, she wanted to. Kept touching me all the time. Beat the crap out of me when I told her to back off."

Dean could see the distress in the taut lines of his brother's face as he spoke in a slow, drug-addled voice.

"I couldn't block cuz my hands were trapped in that, whatever it was, and she just pummeled my face. Probably should've gone along. Didn't know she was a ghoul then, but I couldn't, Dean. I hated having her on me like that."

Dean sighed, relieved that his brother had fought her off but disturbed that the possibility had been there. "You did the right thing, Sammy."

Dean spoke softly for a couple of minutes, reassuring him and encouraging him to go back to sleep. He settled weakly on the floor between the beds when Sam's breathing evened out and his body relaxed again.

Dean left him alone to go outside. He breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs as it cleared his emotions. He wished the ghouls were still alive so he could kill them again. He wished June and Derek were alive too. They had been good people, friends. They hadn't deserved to be killed and then have their personalities twisted and corrupted.

Dean looked up at the sound of the engine and waited until his father parked the car. Late afternoon brought a frigid wind and the threat of rain.

Dad walked up to him, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

"It's a little cold to be standing out here, isn't it?"

"When ghouls take over a body…"

"They don't. They transform into whomever they eat."

Dean scoffed, not wanting to debate semantics. "Yeah, I know. So, when they do that, how much of the person stays?"

"Ghouls take the memories. Whatever their victim knows, the ghoul knows."

"But, Derek still looked like Derek. Why didn't he look like one of the girls he killed?"

"I'm not sure about that. It's a question. Maybe they can pick and choose the transformation, maybe they have to do something specific to make it happen."

"The ghoul that took June…it told Sam that June wanted to screw him. Was it telling the truth or…"

His father's eyes widened and he stepped back. "What?"

Hearing the anger in his own voice, Dean pushed on. "Could it be true or was it lying to mess with Sam?"

"Did he? Did it?"

"He says no. Said it tried but he wouldn't go along. Dad, could June have been, I don't know, lusting after him when she was alive?"

Sounding frustrated, Dad said, "I don't know, Dean. How would I know something like that?"

Dean threw up his hands and stomped a few steps away. "Goddamnit."

"What difference does it make now? She's dead. Why does it matter if she…"

Dean spun back around. "Because they used it against him, Dad. They told him you thought he was a screw up and they told him that our good friend, June, was after him. That's why it matters. They used it against him."

Cheeks reddening as he filled his lungs, Dad reached in his pocket and turned away. He paced his way back to the Impala's trunk. Taking the key out, he shoved it into the lock, opened it and took Sam's duffle out. He walked back around and set the bad down as he leaned against the hood.

"You went back to the house?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. There's police tape all over it and there was a squad car on the street. I had to sneak in through the backyard and climb in through a window. I saw his bag upstairs when we were there last night."

Dean leaned against the hood next to his father. He folded his arms.

"We can't split up again, Dad. We're it, the three of us, we're family and we have to stay together no matter what."

In a voice so quiet, it was almost not there, he said, "I know."

Dad picked up the duffle and carried it inside the room. Dean scrubbed a hand over his head and sighed.

He followed a few moments later and found his father putting the weapons away. Dean sat down on the bed next to Sam then scooted up to lean against the headboard and watch TV. Sam lay on his side, not really asleep but not quite awake either. After Dad finished putting the weapons away he settled into the other bed.

The three of them stayed that way until dinner time when Dean took the Impala to go retrieve burgers and beer. As he checked his fake ID before starting the Impala's engine, Dean sighed in relief that the three of them were safe and back together.

A/N: The term "cougar" as it applies to older women did not come into usage until around 2000 or 2001 so while Dean has used it on the show, it was not used in this story.
A/N: The bit about ghouls needing to eat the heart and brain in order to become the body came from some research I did into the subject. The show never talked about it so its not canon based.