A little late, but this chapter was awesome to write. And the next chapter will be a wee bit more revealing. In a big faerie way. You fight those faeries!
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Bobby threw another bag of garbage onto the pile; cleaning out the panic room had turned into a bigger job than he had first thought. Damn near everything in the room was destroyed. He turned and headed back into the house.
Walking down the hallway, he didn't break stride at the sight of someone sitting at his desk. He kept right on walking, grabbing the rock salt packed shotgun from atop the bookcase before rounding back into the room.
Crowley smirked as Bobby walked into the room and lowered his gun. "I've come for my scroll."
Bobby motioned to it on the desk. "Get out."
Crowley tipped forward in the chair and plucked it off the stack of books. "I also heard that Dean Winchester is dead."
Bobby felt his chest tighten in anger. "Guess you got it all now, you piece of crap! Dean in the pit. A payment full of Teinds and a Fay to boot. Get the hell out!"
Crowley paused for a second, biting back a reply. He hadn't actually heard any news of a Winchester in the pit. Someone had let him slip in without passing a memo. Bureaucratic heads would roll.
"I'll have to thank my lucky stars, won't I," he muttered as he unraveled the scroll in his hands, Alice's red pen markings coming into view. "What the bloody hell happened to this?"
"Hope," Bobby mumbled as he headed back toward the cellar. "Our last damn hope."
Delano, Tennessee
Sam's head bounced off the seat as the car shimmied over the washboard road, causing the ache in his head to turn into fire. "Alice…stop…"
Up in the front seat, Alice ignored him. He had been in and out of consciousness with rambling threats that occasionally fell out of his mouth like sudden explosions.
"I have to get a few things," Alice said loudly as she climbed out of the car. "Stay put."
She left the car and quickly headed up the steps into her trashed house. The broken glass crunched under her boots as she headed to the wall safe in her room. She pulled a small box out and stuffed it into her pocket before heading to the bookshelf. She scanned the shelf before pulling out a few books, carefully stacking them in a wooden crate. She grabbed a hammer and nail from the box under the stairs, pulling an envelope from her pocket. One firm swing secured the envelope to the door. Abraham, her neighbor, would find it in a few days when he came by.
She didn't look back at the house as she dropped the crate in the trunk. Climbing back into the car she leaned over the seat and looked at Sam. She had removed the blindfold, only because she was certain he was too far gone to gather himself into a dangerous state. He looked awful; his skin was pale with dark circles around his closed eyes. She eyed the bag of medication on the seat next to her. She had medicated a lot of hunters over the years, but that was different. Those people had very obvious injuries and needs, with prescription instructions to follow. This was different. Bobby had called both Dr. Fisher and Jim Walsh who had tried their best to come up with a dosage everyone could agree on. So far, it was holding Sam in a dazed state. She watched as his eyes slowly opened.
He frowned as he tried to focus. "Al…Alice?"
"We're at my house, Sam. We'll be back on the road in a minute. How you feeling?"
He didn't answer as he tried to sit up; his hands were still zip tied together. "Listen to me…Dean…," he gagged as his stomach turned over. He slowly eased himself back down onto the seat, wincing as he did. "Dean—"
"Sam, we're not talking. You can tell me how you feel or if you're hungry or whatever. We are not talking about Dean or the seven bodies you left in your wake."
Sam felt the car rumble to life; the world was moving again. Bright sunlight filtered into the car, blinding him. He remembered this feeling; the ache in his bones and the hunger in his gut. He was getting low.
"Where's my flask," he slurred as he tried to pat his pockets.
"Stop Sam," Alice called out from the front seat. "Just stop."
Sam tried to breathe through the pain and the waves of nausea that tormented him. He tried to count each breath but couldn't. His brain couldn't seem to keep one foot in front of the other. There was something important he needed to remember. Something he needed to hold onto.
"Dean."
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Bobby tossed the phone down and sank into his chair. Sam had been caught. He knew he should feel relieved by it but he knew the road ahead was going to be tough. Sam could die from detoxing; last time Sam had burned out everything simply by killing Lilith. This time it wasn't going to be so easy; Sam going cold turkey was risky.
With a deep scowl Bobby picked the phone back up and thumbed through his notebook. He hadn't worked with Jenn in a long time, not since she had taken to civilian life to raise her kids. Now she only hunted once or twice a year and only things that rarely left behind fatalities. Or things she was excellent at hunting. Like vamps. He hated to call her, even if it was only for information.
He chuckled at her ringtone, Carry on My Wayward Son, and frowned when he got her voicemail.
"Jenn, this is Bobby Singer…I know you're out, but I could use some help. Call me back."
He tossed the phone back on the desk. Somewhere, there had to be a way to keep Sam alive. He couldn't possibly have been the only one to fall into drinking demon blood.
Halfway down the cellar stairs, one of the phones started ringing. He hustled back to the lineup of phones and grabbed the far left one. It was the line most rarely used, the number only known to a few out there.
"Yeah," he barked into the phone.
"It's Jenn. What's the problem?"
Bobby leaned on the table and huffed. "I got a hunter in trouble and I need some help."
"Winchester trouble again, huh? Bobby, those two need a goddamn babysitter."
"They're not the only ones out there causing trouble," Bobby quipped back.
"You're right, okay, so who is it this time," Jenn asked, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.
Bobby adjusted his cap and cleared his throat before muttering, "Sam Winchester."
"I knew it," she howled into the phone. "So, what do you need from me?"
"First off, this is not to get out, you understand me? Sam's been on a demon blood drinking binge and I've got to detox him off of it."
"Shit…Bobby, how the hell are you going to do that?"
"With your help."
"Well… Bobby, that's kinda…not my thing."
"I know, but you've helped a few others out. Right now, he's enroute to me. I'm worried that him going cold turkey is going to kill him."
"Bobby, it's not the same thing! I caught a few hunters who had lost their shit and dropped their sorry asses off at rehab. This is very different!"
Silence filled the phone.
"Jenn, you're the only hunter I know who can keep this quiet while getting it done."
She sighed into the phone. "So what, you want me to drain a demon dry, get it to Sam so you can wean him off of it, and keep any talk down, is that right?"
"No, unless that's the only option. I want you to look for a way to detox him. You've got a few connections that might help us out, right?"
Jenn cocked her head and closed her eyes, shaking her head silently. This was crazy. Bobby had asked for some weird shit in the past but this took the cake. She was going to have to call in some extra help.
"I'm going to need Eleanor Dearhart to help with this," Jenn said firmly. "She's a chemist and may have a good idea about how to pull this off."
"Fine," Bobby grunted into the phone. "As long as you keep her from talking."
"I can't make any promises about a cure. And you are going to owe me big for this, Singer. And I don't mean bail money either."
"What do you want," Bobby asked hesitantly. Last time Jenn had come through for him, he had lost a Chevelle.
"I've got a week of hunting a revenant coming up and you, mister, are on kid duty."
"I don't babysit!" Bobby sputtered into the phone. The last kids he had been stuck with were Sam and Dean.
"You do now," Jenn snapped into the phone. "Who's transporting Sam?"
"Alice Hilty," Bobby said. "She hunted him down in North Carolina."
"Why wasn't Dean hunting him?"
"He's dead."
Jenn felt her heart skip a beat. "Bobby…shit…I'm sorry."
He grunted into the phone. He wasn't looking forward to having this same conversation a hundred times over with every hunter he had to call.
"So…Alice Hilty, huh? Bet Sam is loving that."
"She'll keep him in line," Bobby mumbled into the phone. "Call when you have something."
Hell
Crowley sank into the soft leather chair, the frail scrollwork in his hands making him frown. He unrolled it a little further and sighed at all the red handwriting that filled the margin. "Damn woman. This is pure sacrilege!"
He turned the scroll to try and read some of the writing. He chuckled at the handiwork. She had written a few notes exclusively to him; near the top of the scroll there was something about a monk, a priest, and an atheist at the pearly gates. He unrolled more the scrollwork, curiously drawn in by a line of arrows that led to the bottom of the scroll. He felt himself flush with rage. "This is scroll is older than Hell itself and she drew—Jesus Christ!—she drew phallic graffiti all over Lucifer's signature!"
Hearing the door open at the far end of the room, he quickly rolled up the scrollwork. He watched as a lower level demon scurried towards him, stopping on the other side of the large desk.
Crowley cleared his throat and tossed down the scroll. "Did you find him?"
The well-dressed man nervously shook his head from side to side. "No. Not a trace of him anywhere."
"Where the hell is he," Crowley mused.
"Maybe if you could elaborate on why I'm searching the pit for Dean Winchester I could further assist in locating him," the black eyed man said, his head bowed. "There has been some talk…"
Crowley stared at the man. He knew Mo wanted a promotion, something in the crossroad deal division, anything that would get him away from the screaming pit. "And for this bit of gossip… you'd like something in trade."
Mo's eyes flicked up and met Crowley's. "Yes."
"Yes…what?"
"Yes, my king," Mo hissed.
"Tell me."
"There's a rumor about Sam Winchester. That he's been slaughtering crossroad demons—"
"That part is true, "Crowley stated firmly as he leaned back into the chair. "Tell me that is not all the information you have."
Mo straightened as Crowley confirmed his story. "The talk is that when Sam Winchester tried to make deals…he's been asking for Dean Winchester's soul."
Crowley leaned forward and looked at Mo, disbelief on his face. "He thinks Dean's soul is here. That I have it."
"Apparently so."
Crowley frowned. "Interesting. Now to just find the bloody thing."
Baltimore, Maryland
"Keep it down," Jenn yelled across the house as she tried to rifle through her journal. Wrangling kids while trying to engineer a cure for demon blood was turning out to be tougher than she thought. She considered sending them to down to her panic room for a game of hide and go seek while she made a few phone calls.
She pulled a few notes loose and glanced through them. Over the years, she and Eleanor had spent time working on some unusual cures for paranormal maladies but curing a demon blood addiction was unheard of. Primarily because no one was stupid enough to drink it. Except a damn Winchester.
After hefting the large hex box onto her dining room table she pried the nailed lid off before pulling on latex gloves and carefully lifting a large medieval era book from inside. The parchment was rough and spewed dust into the air as she flipped pages, looking for anything that could help her.
Her phone burst into song, causing her to search under piles of papers until she found it. "Eleanor, you find anything useful yet?"
"Maybe if I knew a little more about whom we're dealing with, I could find something sooner," Eleanor quipped over the phone. "Details. I need details!"
Jenn sighed and brushed a hand through her rainbow colored hair. "Look, I can't give you a name. It's a hunter with a demon blood addiction. I need a way to keep him alive."
"Well…you could just let him keep drinking it."
"Dumbass. The blood will kill him eventually."
"So it sounds more like if he keeps drinking it, he dies. If he stops drinking it, he dies. So…what if we just kill him before the demon blood can do it?
"Smartass. That is not quite what we're looking for," Jenn mumbled as she continued to flip through the pages. "Hey, what about that drug we looked into awhile back? Narcan, maybe?"
"Yeah, but that's used for narcotic overdoses, not anything demonic. Someone who's overdosed gets Narcan, it neutralizes the narcotics in their body but it also makes it impossible to medicate them with anything else. You can't wean them off, or give them anything for pain. It's a drastic measure… sometimes the sudden withdrawal caused by the Narcan can send them into shock."
"Yeah, I remembered there was something not cool about it. But hey, if we could engineer a paranormal version of that for demon blood, that would be pretty damn awesome. What do you think?"
"Well, ummm…hmmmm…well, that we might can do. I'll call you back," Eleanor said. "Give me an hour."
Kentucky Interstate
Sam's brain sloshed around in his head as the drugs coursed through his veins. He knew this feeling, he had been here before. But this time it was worse because it was layered on top of the awful feeling of his addiction. His body ached and his bones were on fire. He tried to call out to Alice, if she was still there. He knew he deserved it, to be left for dead. He had tried to kill Alice by sheer force of will, if she had been anyone else he may have succeeded.
"You know she's got it out for you." Dean's voice cut through the fog that covered his brain. Sam groaned. He was a harbinger; Dean always appeared when his addiction demanded to be fed.
"Go away Dean," Sam slurred, wincing at the sound of his own voice. It cut through the fog in his brain and caused wave after wave of pain behind his eyes.
"She hates you because you let me die," Dean said in a singsong voice.
"Shut up, you're lying," Sam argued aloud.
He watched as Dean leaned over the backseat, his eyes suddenly black. "I took up the knife again. I'll be ready when you get here."
Sam choked back a sob as he stared into Dean's soulless eyes, a cruel smile stretching its way across Dean's face, contorting into a gruesome smirk. "I'll be waiting for you, Sammy."
In the front seat Alice gripped the steering wheel tighter and glanced in the rearview mirror. She knew Sam and she were the only ones in the car but dammit if Sam wasn't freaking her out a little. Delusions, hallucination, whatever you wanted to call them, she had dealt with them in the past. They could be cruel; they came armed with everything they needed to destroy a person's sanity. It was cruel listening to Sam carry on a conversation with a Dean who wasn't there.
"Sam, he's not real," Alice called out. "Dean is not here."
"Sure I am," Dean yelled, making Sam wince at the sharp noise. "I'm your own personal demon, Sammy!"
"No. No! No no no," Sam cried out, trying to scoot away from Dean. His back hit the door, stopping him.
"It's back to the pit, Sammy boy."
"NO!"
"Sam, calm down, Dean is not here," Alice said loudly as she desperately scanned the roadway for a place to pull off.
Sam watched in horror as Dean appeared in the back seat, a few inches away from him, his twisted smile and empty eyes filling Sam's vision. "She's heading for a crossroad's demon; she's going to toss you in the pit for fun."
"She wouldn't do that!"
"She's not even human anymore, Sammy. You should have hunted her down before she came for you," Dean hissed into his ear.
"STOP!"
Alice pulled onto the off ramp and swerved for the shoulder, hitting the brakes. The car skid on the loose gravel, sending Sam to the floor; she climbed out of the car and yanked open the backdoor. Sam was curled up on the floor. His eyes were screwed shut. Tremors worked their way across his body as the withdrawal continued to wreak havoc.
Alice laid a hand on his skin; he winced at her touch and whimpered painfully. He was feverish and coated in sweat. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed in frustration. "Hang on Sam. I'm going to call Bobby and sort something out."
Bobby answered on the first ring. "What?"
"Don't grump at me, Bobby Singer. Sam has about lost his mind and I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to do for him."
"What happened?"
Alice stared down at Sam. "He's delusional. He's got a fever and is covered in sweat. He's shaking uncontrollably. How bad does this get?"
"Pretty bad. Last time, back when he was in the panic room, he was being flung around the room. You seen anything like that yet?"
"Jesus, Bobby…and you didn't think that might have been relevant information to have BEFORE I offered to drive him cross country? What the hell am I going to do with him if that happens?!"
"It might not happen again…"
"But you can't say for sure."
"No," Bobby admitted. "I can't guarantee anything at this point, even that he'll survive."
Alice turned away from Sam. "What do you mean?"
"Last time we tried to detox Sam, we never actually cured him ourselves. He went into the panic room, sure. But he got out, that demon Ruby helped him, and he ended up blowing all his demonic powers killing Lilith."
"So what happened to the whole cold turkey thing?"
"Dean and I argued about it; debating whether or not he'd survive withdrawal. We didn't know what would happen, but we knew for damn sure if he kept drinking it, he'd end up dead."
Alice shook her head and frustration. "I am going to kill you! I can't believe I've got a ticking time bomb in the car!"
"I've got Jenn and Eleanor Dearhart working on a cure. In the meantime, Dr. Fisher and Jim Walsh think the sedatives and restraints are the only way to move him."
"What about weaning him off the demon blood, a little at a time," Alice asked. "I know it's not the route we want to take, but do we really have a choice?"
Bobby sighed into the phone. He didn't want to be the one to make that decision. "Alice…if you give him demon blood, you chance making him stronger."
"But if I don't give him demon blood, he won't even be alive when you find a cure."
"Alice, listen to me! At his full demon blood potential, Sam killed Lilith without even touching her. You really want to see that kind of power for yourself? Do you want to risk that?"
Alice sighed. "I might have to."
"Alice, don't—"
Alice dropped the call and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. Sam continued to whimper in the backseat; his eyes following someone who wasn't there.
"What the hell am I doing," Alice muttered as she popped the trunk and began digging through Sam's duffel bag.
Baltimore, Maryland
Jenn had been through every book at her disposal. There were mentions of bleeding out possessed people in an attempt to remove the demon. There were also some mentions of possessed people cannibalizing others, but there wasn't a single mention of demon blood addiction that she could find.
Sliding the hex box back into her safe, she grabbed another book and called Eleanor Dearhart.
"Find anything?"
"I can help with the withdrawal effects and maybe even slow down his addiction so it wouldn't kill him for a while, but as for a cure…no."
Jenn listened to Eleanor list off ingredients, guess at side effects, and rant about the addictive properties of the narcotics that they were currently keeping Sam sedated with. As she flipped through the pages, she paused and flipped back a page. The text was faded but she knew the symbol's history. It was a longshot.
"Eleanor, you've been looking for a physical cure for a paranormal problem, right? What if we try something a little different?"
"Different how," Eleanor asked, her voice curious but hesitant. Jenn's unconventional approach paired with her own chemist background had made them the center of some controversial treatments. Successful, but controversial.
"Different enough to get me a week's worth of babysitting from Bobby Singer! We're going to need someone who can weld or tattoo."
"Jenn, that doesn't sound like a cure," Eleanor warned.
"Trust me, once you hear me out, you're going to love it," Jenn said. "I'll be over later. We're also going to need some sort of antiseptic."
Eleanor laughed. "Undoubtedly."
51° 24′ 20″ N, 30° 3′ 25″ E
Crowley turned and scanned the landscape. There was no sign of Castiel anywhere. In fact, there wasn't anyone anywhere. He had picked a wonderful meeting spot, no prying eyes, no ears reporting to Heaven or Hell. In fact, the landscape was so desolate no one even bothered to keep this place on the books. It was a moot destination. No souls to reap, no souls to trade.
Castiel stepped into view. "What do you need?"
"I need a favor," Crowley stated. "I need you to search Heaven for Dean Winchester."
"Why would I search Heaven for Dean Winchester?"
"Because I asked you too and we're business partners. This is how we do things; I scratch your back, you scratch mine."
Castiel looked confused. "Why would I be scratching—"
"Nevermind! Forget it…just see if Dean is up there."
"I will be back momentarily," Castiel said before disappearing.
"What do I bother—"Crowley muttered as he straightened his jacket.
Castiel reappeared next to Crowley. "He is nowhere in Heaven."
"There, that wasn't so hard," Crowley said as he stepped away from Castiel. He paused when he felt Castiel grab his shoulder.
"Why are you looking for Dean," Castiel growled.
"Business," Crowley said innocently.
Castiel disappeared again and returned momentarily in a whirl of smoke; the stench of singed feathers filled the air. "He's not in Hell either. Or anywhere else I can see."
"I could have told you that," Crowley snapped. "And in the future, keep your nose out of my territory."
Castiel frowned and let Crowley go. "If I find that you have him, I will destroy you."
"Better men have tried," Crowley mused as he looked at the nearby Ferris wheel. "And you have more important things to worry about than Dean Winchester. Like winning the war in Heaven, aye?"
Castiel disappeared in a flash, leaving Crowley by himself. He smiled to himself. His Teind payment was nearly ready to be delivered. He needed Castiel busy elsewhere so he could begin molding his first Fay into a productive little demon. Finding Dean could wait. Wherever he was, no one, not even Heaven or Hell could find him.
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Bobby reached for the phone a second before it rang; she always called right on time. "You find something that's going to work?"
"Maybe," Jenn said. "It's worth a try. Eleanor and I agree it's probably not any more deadly than letting him drink demon blood every day."
"So it could kill him?"
"Bobby, really, at this point…there isn't a cure. Okay? If there is one, no one knows what it is."
"So what exactly did you found," Bobby asked as he continued to scan through the large book in front of him.
"It's not going to be nice. If it even works—"
"Jenn!" Bobby barked into the phone. "Just tell me what you found."
"You know about alchemy, right?"
Bobby sighed. "That's a big question. Skip to the relevant part."
"I found an old alchemy manuscript with the different processes they used. One goal of alchemy was to find eternal health. Now, in their work they needed only very pure ingredients and some of those ingredients were rather hard to purify. What they used…well…okay, so it's going to sound like I'm saying cursed object, but I'm not quite saying that, okay?"
"What the hell are you talking about? Have you and Eleanor been into the Kush again—"
"Bobby, that was ONE time—"
"Jenn—," Bobby warned.
"Anyhow, alchemists carved or molded or inlaid a specific sigil into the vessels which contained the ingredients. The vessel, being cursed or enchanted depending on how you look at it, would remove impurities from whatever it held."
"Interesting. So I need to make a giant hex box to stuff Sam inside of?"
Jenn was silent over the line. "I hadn't actually thought of putting Sam inside of a vessel. I was planning on embedding the sigil in his skin. Maybe a brand, a tattoo, or a something like that."
"I know you prefer the hands on approach," Bobby said with a chuckle. "I'll build a box, you get me the specifics on how to curse the damn thing."
"And?" Jenn asked brashly.
"And I'll pencil you on the calendar for kid duty," Bobby grumbled. "But only if this works!"
Missouri Interstate
Alice watched Sam in the rearview mirror, her eyes constantly flicking from his face to the highway. She was torn between finding a motel for the night or driving straight to Bobby's. Sam had been talking almost non-stop for the last hour; sometimes Latin exorcisms, sometimes to Dean, and once or twice to someone named Jess.
"There's got to be a way to stop these damn hallucinations," Alice muttered to herself as she spotted a motel sign. She desperately needed a break from the car. Sam had rambled on most of the drive to some version of Dean only he could see. And it didn't sound like a version she would like.
The ringing phone made her miss the exit ramp. "Dammit," she muttered as she grabbed the phone from the dash. "What?"
"We've got something that may work for Sam. How quick can you be here?"
Alice glanced back at Sam. She had managed to sit him up the backseat, using the seatbelt to secure him. "Not quick enough."
"You give him any demon blood," Bobby asked. He didn't like thinking of her doing it, but then again he wasn't the one with a dying Winchester in the backseat.
"No. I'm trying not to but if I decide he needs it, you'll have to live with it," Alice stated firmly. "He's still talking to that damn hallucination. I hate listening to him."
"He still fevered?"
"Yeah, I think it's worse."
"Like last time. Just keep an eye on him."
"I'm thinking of pulling off for a few hours. He's barely conscious and I need a break. I don't know how Sam and Dean spent their whole life in this car. My ass is numb," she grumbled.
Bobby chuckled. "Just keep him restrained. He's a smooth talker, that one. Unconscious or not, don't let him free."
"I got this," Alice said as she pulled onto an exit ramp. "I'll just shoot him if he pulls anything."
Bobby groaned. "Just get him here alive."
"Will do," she said as she tossed the phone back down on the seat. The dimly lit motel sign promised clean rooms for 35$ a night; a sure bet the shower would leak and the television didn't work. She didn't care. It was the sort of place that wouldn't pay any attention to her dragging Sam into a room or emptying the ice machine. She paid for the room farthest from the office and parked crookedly by the room.
Sam didn't react when she pulled the door open. "Get up Sam. Can you walk?"
His eyes slid open and tried to focus on the figure next to him. He could see an open motel door a few yards away, but the light from the room was blinding him. He rolled his head away from the light and felt the world turn under him. His stomach rolled as Alice did her best to yank him from the car.
"Sam, rise and shine. Time to get out of the car."
"Mmm...Alice—give me a second," he mumbled as he fought against the nausea that assailed him.
"Sam, look at me," Alice said as she tipped his head back. Her mothering skills kicked; she laid her hand on his forehead before she could stop herself. "You're really fevered."
"Yeah," Sam muttered tiredly. "Why are we stopped?"
"I need a break from the car," Alice said with a shrug. "We'll take an hour or two and get back on the road."
Sam wobbled into the room and collapsed on the bed. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs, the fever, or his withdrawal that had stolen his strength. He could barely keep his eyes open; tremors seemed to ripple through him. His hands were still tightly bound as he tried to roll on his side. The sound of something hitting the floor made him wince.
"It's okay Sam," Alice said as she kicked the duffel bag out of her way. "It's just me."
She slipped two Tylenol between his teeth and drew salt lines in the room. "I'll be back in two minutes. You move off that bed, you'll be riding in the trunk for the rest of the trip," she said as she headed toward the shower.
Sam listened to the water and tried to quell the pounding in his head.
"Did you miss me?"
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as though he could dislodge the voice in his head. "You're not real."
"Keep telling yourself that," Dean snapped as he sat down next to Sam.
"Go away Dean."
"Sam, talking to your delusions makes them more real," Alice said as she walked back into the room, toweling her hair dry. "Don't engage whatever it is you're seeing. You know better."
Dean scoffed and turned back to Sam. "What if I'm the real deal, Sam? What if she's the hallucination?"
Sam rolled his head to the side, glancing from Dean to Alice. Sweat burned his eyes as he squinted up at Dean.
"Not sure, are you?" Dean smiled cruelly and patted Sam's shoulder.
Alice half closed the bathroom door and left the light on before hopping on the bed closest the door. "Get some sleep."
The darkness made everything worse. He could hear the air conditioner in the window but the air seemed stifling, smothering him. Sam laid on the bed listening to Alice's breathing from across the room. She wasn't asleep.
"Alice, I need my flask," Sam begged as another wave of nausea overcame him. He could feel the tension in his chest, in his whole body; he could barely get a word out.
"Sam, I'm not giving you the flask," she mumbled from her bed. "Get some rest."
Sam whimpered as muscle spasms tore through his arms and legs. He knew this part. It was going to get worse. "Please Alice," he begged through gritted teeth.
"Sam, detox isn't easy. Trust me, if you had picked something normal, like booze or drugs, I'd have signed you into a nice rehab facility. But you picked goddamn demon blood. There ain't no way to soften it. You're going to go through hell. I can give you some pain meds or sedate you."
He choked back another request for his flask. He knew she wasn't going to give in. She and Dean had been cut from the same cloth. Sam took another shaky breath and let it out slowly. He was going to have to breathe through the pain. He also knew nothing was going to take the edge off except for more blood.
He listened as Alice's breathing slowed down until she had fallen asleep. He watched through tear filled eyes as Dean paced the room, occasionally leaning down to whisper something terrifying into his ear. He fought the exhaustion that threatened to pull him into restless slumber; he knew only nightmares awaited him. He took one shaky breath after another, trying to ignore Dean as he fought to stay awake.
Sam woke with a start. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. He looked around the room, trying to figure out what had woken him up. In the dim light, Sam could see Alice on the other bed, still asleep. He flinched as a shadow crossed the room. He rolled onto his side and came face to face with Dean. "Ready for some fun, Sammy?"
Hours later, Alice woke to a peculiar sound. She frowned as she scanned the dimly lit room. "Sam?"
In the faint light, she could see Sam wasn't on the other bed anymore. She flipped on the lamp and gasped. Sam was pinned to the ceiling. His face was frozen in terror as he met her eyes. Sweat dripped from his fevered skin onto the bed below. He tried to call out but he couldn't.
"SAM!"
At the sound of her voice, he fell like a stone and hit the bed below. Alice grabbed at him as he was suddenly thrown toward the far wall, unable to stop himself as he slipped into the more violent stage of withdrawal. He didn't remember this from last time, but he had heard Dean and Bobby talk about it once or twice.
Alice grabbed at him again, this time shoving him violently to the floor and kneeling on his chest in efforts to pin him down. Their eyes met for a second before Sam was violent pulled from her grip and flung across the room again. Alice fell to the floor and came to rest next to her duffel bag. She hesitated only a second before grabbing it and rifling through the contents.
"I hope we live to regret this," she yelled as her pulled the flask from the bag. It was surprisingly hot in her hand. She eyed Sam, this time pinned to the bathroom door. As quickly as she could, she spun the cap loose and headed for him. His jaw was tight and his eyes were fear-filled as she did her best to pin him to the door while she forced the flask between his lips.
His eyes opened wide in surprise at the taste. He caught a glimpse of the scowl on Alice's face but he was relieved; anything to make the withdrawal stop. The tremors, the fever, the delusions, being tossed around like a demonic rag doll: it was too much for him.
She pulled the flask away; he fought to keep it, his mouth trying to follow it as it left. "Sam, that's enough!"
Sam tried to step after her, yanking her back toward him by her arm. "I need it."
"That's enough," she growled as she landed a sharp slap across his face.
Startled, he slowly slid down the wall and onto the floor as tremors coursed through him. He could still feel the desire, the need, but he could also feel the twinge of relief. It had been enough to take the edge off, but he wasn't going to bounce back soon.
Alice knelt in front of him and caught his eye. "Is that enough to keep you off the ceiling?"
He shrugged tiredly. "I don't know…"
She sighed in frustration and laid a hand on his forehead before frowning again. "Your fever has gone up again."
He didn't answer her. It wasn't a question. They both knew it. He felt like a fire had been lit under his skin; he was burning up from the inside out. He rolled his head toward her and tried to look at her through the sweat that was pouring out of him. "Tub?"
"Yeah, you're going in the tub."
He laid on the floor and listened to the water filling the tub.
"Looks like a good time to make a break for it," Dean whispered to him.
Sam's eyes slid open. Alice had gone for ice. He could leave. Find a demon. Quell his thirst.
"I thought you were going to save me," Dean snapped from across the room as he opened the motel room door. Sam shivered at the burst of cold air that filled the room. He couldn't stop shivering. "Look at you now. You're hopeless. I'm better off on my own!"
Sam struggled to climb to his feet. "Dean, wait—"
"No, Sam. I'm done waiting for you. I'm burning down there and you're just sitting on your ass," Dean said as he stepped out the door.
"Come back Dean! Come back!"
"SAM! Stop! Look at me," someone yelled into his ear.
Sam jumped as he felt something shake him. "Open your eyes!" Sam fought against hands that grabbed at him, pushing them away. He opened his eyes and suddenly Dean was gone. The room was gone. He was in the tub, ice and water covering him. "Look at me!"
He looked up, shivering uncontrollably, and locked eyes with Alice. Her hands tightly held his wrists as she tried to keep him still. Even with the water and ice, he could still feel the heat of the fever that ate at him.
"Are you with me," Alice asked firmly.
He glanced beyond her, looking for Dean. He was gone. Sam let out a shaky sigh of relief as he tried to shake off Dean's words.
"Yeah…I'm with you."
She leaned against the wall and slid down into a kneeling position. "You sure? Because you passed out on the floor out there. I had to drag your ass in here."
Sam tried to speak through chattering teeth. "Sorry—"
"Don't be sorry Sam," she said as she pulled the flask from her pocket. He eyed it as she set it on the edge of the tub between them. "It's empty now."
He felt his heart skip a beat. It was the last he had. And now it was gone. Even if Alice wasn't there to stop him, there was no way he could catch a demon and drain it. He was to far gone.
"That's it then," he said, fighting his chattering teeth.
She nodded. "Yeah."
"You think I'm going to die?" he asked as he tried to shift under the weight of the ice.
She looked at him and tried to keep her face neutral. He looked awful.
"I don't know Sam."
They sat there for a long time, not talking; each lost in their own thoughts. The room was silent except for the occasional sound of the ice shifting in the bathtub. Sam's eyes burned and itched until he closed them. "Where do you think Dean is?"
Alice slowly pulled herself out of her own thoughts and looked at him. "I don't know."
"Do you think demons lie?"
"I don't know that either Sam."
He rolled his head on the tiled wall and squinted at her through his blurred vision. "A demon told me Dean isn't in Hell."
She frowned at his words and leaned forward. "Say that again."
Sam fought to keep his eyes open as darkness crept into his vision. "A demon told me that Dean's not in the pit."
Alice put a hand on his forehead, he was still burning hot. He was delusional, but that didn't mean he was lying.
"Alice…where is he?"
"I don't know Sam. But I'm going to find out," she said as she pulled herself from the floor. She didn't want to go down this road but Sam wasn't going to survive if she didn't. She picked up the flask and turned to him, but didn't look at him. "But first, maybe we should see about keeping you alive."
Sam frowned through the haze that had settled over him, he wasn't even shivering anymore. "You said it's empty."
"It is. But we can fix that."
Okay, so I know there was a lot of bouncing around from place to place, character to character, but seriously people, I'm trying to align the pieces on the board for a grand finish. Bear with me.
And thanks to all of you who have reviewed! I'll be continuing to use reviewer names to finish up one shot characters. Thanks!