Chapter 9
"In all those stories about people who sold their souls to the devil, I never quite understood why the devil was the bad guy, or why it was okay to screw him out of his soul. They got what they wanted: fame, money, love, whatever—though usually it turned out not to be what they really wanted or expected. Was that the devil's fault? I never thought so. Like John Wayne said, "Life's tough. It's even tougher when you're stupid."
― James Anderson, The Never-Open Desert Diner
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Real world
After Castiel left, Sam stared silently at the empty room, worried sick about his brother, yet determined to fix what he had caused. Once he finished taking the quick and needed bath that his tense muscles were screaming for, he got dressed, picked the car's keys and got ready to leave the motel. He knew where Crowley was, or at least knew the main place he liked to call his home. Looking up, he noticed that the sky above him was now cloudy, showing a mix of black, light pink and violet tones, preparing the helpless human beings for what would happen soon enough. The smell of rain filled his nostrils, making him feel some sort of weird but needed feeling of satisfaction.
Sam didn't remember the last time it had rained, or the last time he had stopped everything he was doing to allow himself enjoy the moment. At least since Dean had died, and he had to deal with the dangerous feelings of grieve and loneliness, only feeling better when Ruby was around. She had been the key to fill the emptiness within him, and now that feeling was back. Dean didn't want to know anything about him, but he had to save his ass from the fire before considering his next move.
Moments later, and maybe a little unexpectedly to his blurry mind, rain started to fall on his clothes, and his hair. Forcing himself to run towards the Impala, noticed the dirt on the hood of the car. The windows were dirty too, probably because Dean hadn't noticed it to clean it either. His big brother had been too busy dealing with him to pay attention to his baby.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to let you down too" Sam apologized quietly, carefully petting the car's hood. The rain would wash away most of the dirt though. If he were lucky, baby would be clean for Dean. He would be happy to see her again, since she was the only one that never let him down. John had let him down when he decided that hunting was more important than being with his sons, or when he left him on his own on October 29, 2005. Little did he know, a few nights later, his brother was going to show up and the life he knew would be over.
Jessica…Lucifer, or both of them maybe, were right. Jess had died when he met her. He knew that he didn't fit in Stanford, but he could never guess the fatal consequences of his selfish actions. Getting people killed seemed to be his best talent yet.
Turning the Impala's engine on, he directed the car towards the road ahead. Thunders could be heard in the silent and lonely road, as he tried to hide the feeling of exhaustion from his bones. Even thinking hurt like hell, but if he knew something characteristic about himself, was that his mind sometimes seemed to work separately. He was always thinking, reminding himself about his failures, his best memories, or even the chores he had piled over the days. He was begging for the pain to stop, mainly talking about the mental pain. Now he knew why depression could take a life. He had to earn the right to live, because without it, without a purpose, he was a dead man walking and breathing contaminated air.
The silence started to affect him, so he turned on the music, smiling bitterly when the Metallica cassette that his brother forgot on, started playing. This time, he could not fight the tears coming. He knew that the cause of all the problems somehow ended up on his shoulders. Apparently, he did not know how to difference the light from the darkness. He could not be good, no matter how hard he tried it. Invisible blood covered his body, and it would keep covering it. He had doubted the light that he was given since he was a little boy, that way, bending and giving himself up to the darkness within his blood.
Sam decided to stop the track of those thoughts, focusing on the road and the rain falling on the car's roof. With a shy smile, he remembered that Dean loved to sleep on his car when it rained, sometimes skipping the crappy motels, to sleep deeply relaxed and delighted on his beloved "girl". Sam never complained about Dean's guilty pleasures, even when he got too big and had to make his large body fit in the backseat of the Impala.
He still remembered some of the nights he slept on the car, giving Dean a pissed glance as his big brother teased him about being too big to sleep on the backseat anymore.
"If you narrow the car's backseat, I am going to kick your ass, you hear me little brother?" said Dean with a smile on his face.
He missed those good old days. Eating on the road, stopping in the middle of nowhere, almost reaching for the night sky to see the stars, bonding again through the endless clues to find their father. He didn't know that he would want to relive those moments. He remember feeling lost, torn apart and exhausted over nothing. Jessica's death was still pretty recent, and the nightmares were awful. He would sell his soul if he were given the chance to change his destiny. He would save Dean from hell, kill Jacob if he had to, just to have his brother back.
Hours later and feeling even worse, he was received by one of Crowley's bodyguards. The vessel was a man that was taller and stronger than him.
He could bet that with a simple handshake, the man could break his fingers. Let alone a fist to his stomach or a hand pressing his throat.
The man guided him forcefully through the hallways, stopping his march when they were in front of a fancy wooden door. It had to be Crowley's office. He was a powerful man, and an office was the right place to make a deal.
He was not aware when the door was opened, so the demon pushed him forward, practically forcing him to rest the weight of his tired body on his knees in front of the petite figure of Crowley.
"Hello, Samuel. I was not expecting a visit from your part, but I am willing to talk to you anyway. You're lucky, I must say. If I were in a bad mood, I would have sent you to the basement and told my bodyguards to teach you a lesson. Next time, call or you'll feel the consequences of breaking into my house without asking for permission" threated the demon.
Sam did not reply, but stared at the him, surrendering under his power. Crowley was his only shot.
"Now, get up and let me offer you something to drink" said Crowley, turning around, walking its way towards a glass table with whisky. It seemed expensive, and untouched if he was not going crazy after staying awake for so many days.
He stood up and winced, thinking how he didn't notice the, now, excruciating pain coming from both knees and back.
"I-I need to ask you a favor, Crowley. I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgently necessary" said Sam, seeing Crowley's pleased smile before looking away, feeling pathetic, powerless and weak.
"I'm listening, Samuel" reassured the demon with a grin that was disturbing.
Sam explained Crowley what was happening to Dean, trying to hold the broken pieces of his heart and soul together. Talking aloud about it was not something he really wanted to do. It would be worth it, or so he wanted to believe to keep himself sane.
"I understand, Sam. The little detail that you're forgetting here is that I do not do things for free. Everything has a price, and the dagger that you're looking for is not easy to get" explained the demon
"I will do whatever you want. I promise you that. Just… please, help me save my brother and I will accept the terms of the deal" said Sam, practically begging. Why didn't he think about that twist before? He was too tired to function properly, forgetting the demon he was bargaining with.
Crowley stood up from his chair and walked towards the big window of the room, showing the big park that was part the house. It was a fancy home, probably stolen from one of his "clients". He could not have gotten it any other way.
"So this is the deal Samuel… I will bring the dagger to you, but you will have to clean some… people… off the map for me"
"What?" asked Sam, confused. If Crowley wanted to kill somebody, he could make his men do it. Why him?
"Let's just say that you have powers to send some demons to hell and make them suffer in the process… I've heard of it, and I am amused! Matthias, the man standing behind you, will handle you the… juice that you need to do so. While I'm gone, I want you to eliminate these demons" said Crowley, handing him a list with, at least ten or fifteen names on it.
"No… I can't-I can't drink that again! I'll do anything but that. Please, don't make me do this"
Don't wanna be a monster again. Don't wanna let Dean down again.
"I am sorry, Samuel. That's the price to pay if you want my help. According to what you told me, Dean is dying, so I would hurry up and decide what to do if I were in those shoes of yours" remarked Crowley.
Sam had no choice but to give in, even if the price to pay was to drink demon blood again. Bobby and Dean would be disappointed, however, he had let them down once. One more time drinking it would not make him a drug addict or a monster again, right? He had to agree.
"Okay. I'll do it" said Sam, looking down to the red rug laying on the clean floor. He was so screwed…
TBC…
Author's Note: Hey y'all! Sorry for the long time without updating this fic. I have been really busy lately…
So, here's another chapter for you guys. Please, if you have a minute, leave me a review to let me know what you think about it, and if you want me to keep on writing this fic! We're not far from the end, so this will be really intense! Poor Sammy! Will he be able to save his brother in time?
KW.-
