Demon Blood

Chapter Twelve: The Deal

"Do you know," Azazel said after allowing the Winchesters and Mr. Singer to come to terms with their current predicament, "that Sam fought me every day? He had to be physically restrained for every dose of blood that he received, and he had to be forced to use his powers multiple times. Of course, you already knew about that last one," he added with a grin. "Enjoy the video and witnesses we sent you?"

Dean made an angry-sounding growl, his eyes constantly flickering between Azazel and Sam. "I thought so."

Crouching down next to Sam, Azazel looked back over at the three Hunters. "Detoxing has been a very painful experience for Sammy," he told them. "I watched him suffer through four hallucinations in addition to the other, more classic symptoms of withdrawal." He pulled a small knife from his sleeve. "Would you like to see how being denied demon blood for four days makes him react now?"

"You sonuvabitch," Bobby whispered, shaking his head. "Leave him alone!"

Azazel shrugged. "Can't do that," he said before drawing the knife across the palm of his hand. "Sammy," he called out softly, "can you smell it? Smell my blood?"

Sam slowly raised his head, panting harshly as his glassy eyes slowly focused on the blood welling from the self-inflicted cut. The boy was shaking, clearly fighting his desire to lunge at Azazel's hand, but he could tell Sam was losing the battle against the addiction in his veins as his nostrils flared and he opened his mouth, leaning almost desperately toward the proffered palm that was just out of reach. He whimpered pathetically.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, and Azazel glanced back to see John and Bobby restraining the young man with sorrow etched on their haggard faces. "You bastard, let him go or I swear to God I'll kill you myself!"

"God ain't listening, kid," Azazel told Dean before moving his hand close enough for Sam to reach. "Bottoms up, Sammy," he said, watching as Sam lunged forward, sucking greedily at the blood and breathing harshly through his nose.

"NO!" Dean was practically screaming. "Let him go! Sammy!"

"Just drink, son," Azazel said softly, ignoring Dean's pleas. "That's it."

After about ten seconds, Azazel released him and stepped back, watching as Sam sagged in Derrick and Buck's hands, whimpering once more and gasping for more blood. "Let him go," he told them, and Sam all but collapsed on one side, too weak to hold himself up properly. When his eyes opened, Azazel saw they were clearer and more focused.

"Don't try anything, Sam," Azazel warned firmly, "that wasn't enough to give you back those exorcism powers of yours, just enough to make you focus on the here and now."

"Sam!" Dean shouted again. "Sammy, you all right, man?"

Azazel watched as Sam met Dean's eyes with his own very wide ones. "You came," he whispered and then the realization that his family had witnessed how addicted he was to the blood caught up with him. "Oh, God, no no no no no no —" He jerked away from Dean's gaze and met Azazel's eyes. "Why?" he whispered brokenly, and Azazel couldn't help but take a moment to delight in the blood smeared over Sam's chin and mouth.

"You knew they were going to do whatever it took to find you," he told Sam dispassionately. "Besides, it's not like they hadn't heard about your addiction. And actually, this brings us to the way we're going to get out of this impasse." Azazel turned and stared directly at John. "I name the price, and one of you three pays up."

"Price?" John asked, his eyes hard as he slowly released his hold on Dean. "What price is that?"

Azazel grinned. "You wanna tell them, Sammy, or should I?" he asked, glancing back at the youngest Winchester.

Sam's wide eyes met his and he shook his head frantically. "No, please don't, you can't do this!"

"As I told you before," Azazel said calmly, "I can, Sammy. I can, and trust me, I will."

"What is your price?" John asked again, drawing Azazel's attention once more.

"One soul," he finally answered. "One soul, in Hell, in exchange for Sam's safe release. That is my price."

Sam dropped his head and clenched his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to start falling. He remembered that day, when Azazel had told him what he had planned for his family.

Sam's vision is beginning to swim, and he flinches when Azazel leans closer to whisper in his ear.

"I'm gonna take your daddy's soul straight to Hell in exchange for your ticket outta this joint," he says softly, "and then I'm gonna make sure Dean ends up in the Pit for trying to save you, too."

When he pulls away, it takes Sam a second to understand what the demon had just told him. "No," he whispers, "no, you can't."

"Oh, I can, Sammy," Azazel chuckles, standing up. "I can, and trust me, I will."

Choking back a sob, Sam forced himself to open his eyes and look up again. "Don't do it," he pleaded aloud, "I'm not worth it, please don't…"

And then he met his father's eyes. John looked so sad, but there was a spark of determination that Sam knew all too well. "Dad, you can't!"

Dean turned to face John. "Dad, you're not seriously thinking of doing this, are you?"

John sighed and looked at Dean. "We have no other options, son," he said, and Sam felt another sob well up in his throat.

And then he felt anger.

Sam knew full well that he couldn't exorcize Azazel, let alone Derrick or Buck, but maybe if he could cause enough distraction to get the four of them out of this place… It took some effort, but he managed to sit up and stay vertical, all the while listening to Dean argue with their father.

"No other options?" Dean echoed. "Dad, selling your fucking soul is not an option, either!"

"We've got nothing else, Dean!" John shouted. "Look at us! We're surrounded by a dozen demons and there is no way to stop them all. And Sammy, he…" Sam caught the anguish in John's eyes and felt his heart freeze at his father's next words. "Sam needs you more than he's ever needed me."

John was right, but that didn't mean Sam had to accept it. He closed his eyes and concentrated on what he wanted to do, because he was not letting his father go to Hell for him. And then he pushed.

Sam opened his eyes just in time to see every demon go flying off their feet, Azazel included. John, Dean and Bobby were clearly startled, but Sam didn't have time for that.

You don't just turn on family.

He focused on keeping all the demons out of the way as he staggered to his feet. "Dean," he gasped out, and his older brother instantly snapped into action, running forward and tugging one of Sam's arms over his shoulder while wrapping his own around Sam's waist.

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean said, "but how —?"

"Blood only affects the exorcism thing," Sam managed to explain. "The rest is all me now, but I can't keep it up forever, 'm too weak…"

"Good enough for me," Dean said with a cocky grin and then they were moving. "You've lost weight, dude."

"Jerk," Sam sighed as John looped his other arm over his shoulder and their small group picked up speed.

"Bitch," Dean replied automatically.

My vision is not coming true, Sam thought with determination. They were going to make it out of this in one piece, they had to.

And then Dean tripped and Sam's concentration slipped.

He could feel Azazel's anger as the four men were ripped apart from each other. Sam slammed into the ground near Azazel's feet, while John, Bobby and Dean were forced against the nearest wall.

"That was rude, Samuel," Azazel said coldly, and then Sam was screaming as his insides churned unnaturally. He writhed on the ground, barely aware of the yells coming from his family. When the pain abruptly ended, he collapsed against the concrete floor, gasping for breath and unable to move.

And then Dean screamed.

It was just like being back in that damn cabin all those weeks ago, only he realized it wasn't Azazel torturing his brother. It was Tara, but it looked like she was trying to do even more damage than Azazel had done that night so long ago. "NO!" Sam shouted, bucking in the invisible restraints. "DEAN!"

"Hold for a moment, Tara," Azazel called out casually after a long period of watching Tara torture Dean. Tara sighed, but complied and dropped her hand, watching glumly as Dean sagged in his bonds, barely conscious and choking in breaths. "Have you learned your lesson yet, Sammy? You can't save everyone, I already told you."

"Fuck you," Sam ground out, staring up at his tormentor, but then pain assailed his senses again and he lost track of his surroundings once more as his nerve endings fried, as his guts squirmed and spasmed against his will. His chest ached, burned with pain so intense he could sense the edges of blackness trying to steal him away from the world of the conscious. After an eternity, the pain finally ebbed away and Sam couldn't stop the sobs from escaping his throat.

"It all comes down to this, John," Azazel said calmly. "Make the Deal or I kill them both here and now. It sure would be a shame to lose Sammy here, but I've still got others out there I can choose from, so it's not the biggest loss ever."

"No," Sam whispered (this is my vision, no no no nonono), "no, please no, don't do it, please —"

There was a long moment of silence as Sam met his father's eyes. He knew the pain and anguish in their depths, and he knew exactly what John was going to say, even though he didn't want to hear it.

"I got no choice," John said softly. "Fine, Azazel. I'll make your Deal. Just give me time enough to get my boys home and make sure they're recovering."

Sam was suddenly able to move again, but he sagged back to the ground and stared up at the pleased grin on Azazel's face.

"Three days exactly," he said. "Three days, John Winchester, and then you're mine."

Suddenly, every demon vanished and Dean slumped bonelessly to the ground, unconscious. Sam struggled to sit up, but the little bit of demon blood he had ingested wasn't enough to keep up his strength or clarity and he could already feel himself sinking back into the oblivion of withdrawal. "Dean," he cried weakly as John and Bobby rushed to his brother's aid. "Dean, 'm so sorry…" He managed to curl up on one side, his aching muscles protesting as the shakes settled in once again. "So sorry…"

Bobby had never felt so helpless in his life, not since the night so many years ago when his wife had been possessed by a demon. Watching as John agreed to Azazel's Deal was, by far, one of the worst things he had ever witnessed. He almost couldn't contain his tears as he rushed to Dean's side and immediately checked for a pulse.

"He's still breathing," John whispered.

"His pulse is too weak for my liking," Bobby sighed, "but it's stable for now." And then he felt like smacking himself in the head as soft sobs reached his ears. "Sam?"

John was instantly on his feet again, skidding to halt next to Sam, who was now curled up on his side, tears streaming down his face as he muttered "sorry" over and over again, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"He's shaking real bad," John announced, pulling a hand down one side of his face. "That little bit of demon blood didn't help him very much."

"He never should have had the damn stuff forced on him in the first place," Bobby muttered as he looked down at Dean again. "They both need a hospital, John."

"No."

Bobby turned back to John and felt his face twist in anger. "And why not? Cause you only got three days to live, ya idjt?"

"Don't start this now, Bobby," John snapped. "Dean'll make it, and so will Sam. We just need to keep them together, and that surely won't happen if we take them to a hospital." He straightened up, and Bobby saw the ex-Marine in John come to life in full force. "We're going back to Sioux Falls, and we're leaving just as soon as we get the boys in the Impala." With that, he bent down to lift Sam into his arms, and Bobby watched as Sam struggled weakly for all of two seconds before going limp.

"Dean's right," John said softly, "Sammy's lost a lot of weight, an' fast, too."

"I'll wait here with Dean," Bobby offered. "You think you can make it all the way with Sam?"

John was already nodding. "I'll bring the car closer so we can both get Dean."

Bobby nodded and watched as John walked away, cradling Sam in his arms like he probably hadn't done since before Mary died.

The drive back to Sioux Falls was arduous. John and Bobby switched off driving every eight hours so the other could try to get some sleep. During that time, Sam suffered two hallucinations, babbling away to, John thought, Azazel and John himself.

"I'm sorry Dad, sorry I wasn't strong enough…"

"Leave me alone, I'll never lead your fucking army…"

Dean was in and out it the entire time, and when he was aware of his surroundings, his only focus was his little brother, and not the trauma his body had suffered.

"Shh, Sammy, it's okay, it's not real, I'm here, little brother…"

The litany of comforting words all but broke John's heart again. Dean had nearly driven himself crazy over worry for Sam, barely paying attention to his own needs unless reminded for the first two weeks Sam was gone. Now he was back at square one and it both pained and awed John how his oldest put aside his own pain in favor of watching over Sam.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can!"

Dean had taken full responsibility for Sam after that night.

"Lock the doors and window, close the shades, and most important —"

"Watch out for Sammy," Dean cuts in, looking over at his younger brother, who's watching TV. "I know."

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean whispered as Sam shivered in the backseat, his head cradled on Dean's lap. Dean was gently running a hand through Sam's unruly locks, and the scene was so tender John had to look away before thoughts of Mary could overtake him again.

"How you feeling, Dean?" he asked gruffly.

"Fine, sir," Dean replied without looking away from Sam.

"You lost a lot of blood, son," Bobby commented from the driver's seat. "You really should be getting some rest right now."

"I'm fine," Dean repeated. "I'm not the one goin' through withdrawal."

Sam suddenly flinched and actually tried to pull away from Dean.

"Dammit!" Dean exclaimed. "Sam, relax, I didn't mean it like that!"

"'M not a druggie," Sam slurred, and John was relieved to see his eyes were clearer, more focused.

"Of course not," Dean said in that soothing tone that only Sam ever got to have directed at him. "Druggies aren't usually forced to take drugs in the first place, Sammy."

"Never wanted it," Sam said, and John was fascinated by how his eyes focused on Dean, and Dean alone. "I didn' want all that blood down my throat, I didn'…"

"I know," Dean said softly, running his hand through Sam's hair. "He said they had to force you every time."

"Not the last one," Sam whispered, and the torment in his voice tore at John's heart.

"You were going through fucking withdrawal, Sam, like it or not," Dean said, his voice suddenly sharper. "Four days without any blood… I got no idea how long it's gonna take for you to detox, but I've seen druggies going through withdrawal jump at any opportunity to get their hands on their next hit." He smiled sadly. "I hate makin' the parallels, dude, but you weren't thinking clearly. All you could see was the one thing that could make you feel better, right?"

Sam closed his eyes and whispered, "I smelled it, Dean. I could barely focus on anything else but that smell."

John was disturbed by the revelation, but if Dean was, too, he didn't show it in his face or his eyes. "We adding super-smell to the list now?"

Sam actually snorted and looked away, meeting John's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered before yawning. "I tried to stop him from —"

"Shh," John cut in at once, "it's okay, Sammy, I know. You rest now, alright, son?"

Sam nodded and soon dropped off into real sleep for the first time, curled up in the backseat with one hand clutching at Dean's jacket. It reminded John of a three-year-old Sam after a nightmare. He'd always gone to Dean for comfort.

"You should try to get some rest, too, son," John told Dean quietly. "We should be there in about six hours."

Dean sighed, but nodded and made himself as comfortable as he could with Sam still attached to him. John waited until he had dropped off before saying anything else.

"You've gotta keep an eye on them after I'm gone, Bobby," he said, glancing at his friend.

"As if I'd do anything else," Bobby said with a roll of his eyes. "You lot are family, John, no matter what's happened between you an' me. When are you telling Dean?"

John sighed and looked out the passenger window. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Soon, though."

"I wish it hadn't come to this," Bobby said.

"I know," John said with another sigh. "I do, too."

TBC...