Save Me From Myself

Chapter Three: We're Back

Turns out, Dean and Lacey Winchester didn't get that miracle they needed.

They didn't stay together, they didn't make it out or fight together—Dean had been right. The end of that day in hell had come and, like he had predicted all along, Lacey had been ripped right out of that room in the blink of an eye. Within seconds a new soul had been placed in front of him, crying and desperate and pleading.

But Dean hadn't heard it. For a long time he didn't hear anything. Dean became numb.

Somehow, things became even darker. Knowing that his sister was down there, knowing every time he picked up a blade and tore it through skin, the same thing was happening to her somewhere, it made it unbearable. More so. How was he supposed to carry on? Often, he found himself pondering the possibility of suicide in hell. But then he realised, that was the stage they wanted him at. Hell was supposed to be hell. And he had found it. He had found his true hell the day she had found him.

From the moment Lacey had disappeared, things had been different. Dean no longer cared. He tried to get through them faster, just praying for her to be placed back on his rack, because then, for at least one day, the two of them could escape torture.

And then, another few years passed by, all one horrific blur, and Dean opened his eyes to a blackness completely new to him. It was dark, stuffy, surprisingly heated—confining in a way that sent a wave of panic directly to the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, he reached out a hand in front of him, looking for something familiar he could take hold of, only to be met with a hardness. And that was when he realised, he was lying in a coffin.

That had been two hours ago, and how he drove down some lonely dirt road, the window open in some futile attempt to cool down the excruciating temperature of the stolen car he drove, or the impact of the sun glaring down through the window, burning the skin of his face and arms.

Somehow debating whether or not he was really back, Dean narrowed his eyes down the empty stretch of road ahead. He hadn't seen a single human being yet, nothing. He hadn't spoken to anyone, he hadn't had any contact with anyone or anything. And he was starting to get a little apprehensive, wondering where the hell he was.

But it was at that thought he noticed something else. There was another car driving towards him. Black, or maybe dark blue, he wasn't sure. Whoever it was, they were driving fast, with purpose. Deciding it had to be nothing, Dean ignored them, focusing on his own side of the road. And that thought held, up until the other car made a sudden jolt and came screeching to a halt across the middle of the road, blocking his path entirely. He had to slam down on the breaks to narrowly avoid crashing right into it.

Dean was ready to get out and yell, punch whoever the idiot who had nearly cost him his life square in the face. But the breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell to the girl who climbed out of the driver's side. She wore a white vest and black jeans, both covered in dirt the same way that his clothes were.

And then there was a grin on his face, because he hadn't expected to see her again. But it wasn't something that she returned. There was no happiness in her eyes. It was all fear and anger, everything he never thought he would see in the face of his sister as she looked to him. And that was when he was hit with the blinding sunlight reflected from the blade in her hand as she approached him.

"Lacey—" he began, ready to tell her that she didn't need to be scared, that it was really him, but he didn't get the chance to say more before she made a swing at him. He ducked back and narrowly avoided the attack but she just kept coming. She brought the knife down towards him again but he caught a firm grip of her wrist and pulled the knife from her with his other hand. Stepping back he held up his hands in surrender. Reluctantly, he brought the blade up to his arm and made a quick cut, enough to draw blood. "I'm not a shifter, I'm me." he told her, but she didn't look to be convinced. "Don't suppose you have any holy water on you?"

Lacey shook her head. "You?"

"Nothing." he muttered. "So, how about we just assume we're us until we find some?"

She watched him closely, it was too much of a coincidence them getting out of hell on the same day for it not to be him. He was covered in dirt, the same as she was, which probably meant that he, too, had climbed from his grave. Somewhere, she could just feel that it was her brother. And there looked no doubt in Dean's eyes that he was standing before his sister.

Slowly, she managed a nod. "Fine." she mumbled, but he wasn't sure she was convinced. Either that, or she didn't want to be convinced.

"Come on," he pressed, gesturing to the car she had left parked in the middle of the road. "Let's get out of here. I promise, we'll sort it out when we get..." He paused, because he didn't honestly know where they could go. He didn't even know where they were. "Somewhere."

Lacey gave another short nod and headed around to the passenger side of the car, as if on instinct expecting him to drive, and he didn't argue with her. He slipped behind the wheel and started the car, never uttering a word to her. He didn't know what to say. There was too much to say. He wanted to ask her the million questions that were swarming around in his head but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. And he had a feeling, neither could she.

Things were different than they usually were. It was like she was keeping as much distance from him as she could. She was pressed up against the side, either subconsciously or on purpose, he wasn't sure. But he wouldn't blame her. She cast occasional glances at him out of the corner of her eye as he started the car and continued on the way he had been driving before she had cut him off.

Nothing was said for a long moment before he cleared his throat. "Where were you heading, anyway?" he asked. It was too much of a coincidence for them to just crash into each other like that. Out of every road in every town in every state, they were both on that one. She had to be heading somewhere.

"Your grave." she muttered. "I crawled out of mine...I had to see if..." she trailed off, her voice shaky, gravelly as though she was loosing her voice. He closed his eyes for a moment, she had woken up in a coffin, the same as him, he hated to think about it.

But Dean said nothing to her. He couldn't. They drove in silence for a few miles, neither being brave enough to break it. Being honest, it wasn't the reunion he had expected. There had been no hugging, no tears, nothing. They were just sitting in silence, and he had a feeling that was because she wasn't completely sure it was him. She didn't want to throw herself into his arms in case he turned out to be something else. That was the smart move. But he really did believe he had his sister beside him. He couldn't think anything else, he wouldn't let himself think anything else. But she was wary, and he didn't blame her for that.

Another few miles passed by, still neither of them spoke. And, while Dean thought it was Lacey who didn't want to speak to him, Lacey thought the same thing about Dean. There was something comforting about his presence that just made her more and more confident that it was really him, that she had found her brother again, but she wasn't sure he believed that it was her. Something was holding him back. Maybe he just didn't want to trust her, not until they were both sure of what was going on. Or maybe it was something more. She didn't know. She didn't like to think.

But, as they finally found a highway, when Dean turned onto it and made some futile attempt to recognise it, he found his voice again. There was something that had been burning in the back of his mind since he had seen her that night in hell. And he was done wondering. "What happened to you?" he asked, glancing over at her for a moment, for the first time since he had started the car. "How'd you end up in hell?"

Lacey cleared her throat and looked down at her lap, she knew he wasn't going to like it. "Demon hunt went wrong." she shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Demon hunt?" he repeated, eyebrows raised. "And Sam? Is he...?" He didn't even want to say it, he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't be. He had to be alright.

"I don't know." she muttered, looking out of the side window, refusing to face him. "I haven't seen him since the night you went to hell, Dean. He bailed."

Dean's eyes went wide at that. "What?" That couldn't be right. He had told them to stick together, why would he bail on her? Why would he leave her alone like that? Why wasn't he watching her back? Why had she been taking demon hunts alone?

"I looked everywhere for him, I really did. So did Bobby." she sighed. "But he doesn't wanna be found. I'm sorry, Dean."

But that wasn't what was bothering him. Was she apologising because she thought he was mad at her for not finding him? Did she blame herself for not looking harder? Maybe she did. More than likely. But Dean knew, if Sam didn't want tracking down, it would be damn near impossible for anyone to find him.

"He bailed on you?" he asked her, it hadn't sunk in. He couldn't comprehend him doing that to his own sister. That didn't sound like Sam.

"Things were rough." Lacey reasoned, she didn't sound mad, just upset. "For all of us."

That was a conversation that he didn't want to get into. Not yet. Honestly, he just wanted to forget the entire thing. He wanted it all to go away. He wanted to forget.

As though she could read his mind, Lacey looked up at him, a softness in her eyes. "Do you, I mean..." She paused, as though unsure she wanted to ask. "Do you remember it? Hell?" Dean glanced over at her, and she could tell he was about to deny it, but he caught the look in her eyes, and he knew that she did. She remembered the torture she had been subjected to. She remembered how they had ripped her apart without mercy. He couldn't make her face those memories alone.

Slowly, Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I remember."

Lacey shook her head. She had hoped he had been the lucky one, that maybe he would have been able to block everything out. She knew his memories had to be so much worse. He had been down there longer, and he had not only been tortured, he had been the one doing the torturing. She wasn't sure that there was anything worse than that to think about. It had to be tearing him up inside. In fact, she could see it tearing him up inside. She could see the pain behind his eyes as he thought back to the horrors of the pit. But there was something more. There was something other than hell praying on his mind. And she couldn't tell what.

Maybe she had done something. Maybe he was pissed that she had been down there in the first place. He always seemed to get mad when she got herself into trouble. She risked her life on a hunt and she knew she would go back to the motel to be yelled at by Dean for being reckless. He had always been the same. When she or Sam got in danger, he got mad. But she wasn't sure, because why hadn't he yelled? Why hadn't he told her he was angry? He hadn't even looked at her, not since they had left the side of the road almost two hours ago. He hadn't really spoken. Something was going on.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, looking at him warily. There was definitely something on his mind, she could tell from a mile away. But Dean didn't speak, he didn't even look away from the road. "Dean, you've barely even looked at me since we got in the car, what's the problem? Are you pissed at me or something?"

Dean huffed a laugh at the thought, always trying to blame herself, always assuming it was her who was in the wrong. She didn't get it. She didn't know. She didn't understand. How was he supposed to tell her? She would never look at him the same again, he knew that. She wouldn't forgive him. She wouldn't be able to stand his presence, and he wouldn't blame her. But he needed to tell her, she needed to know who he was. She needed to understand what he had become.

With a sigh he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He couldn't predict how she was going to react to what he was about to say, but he didn't imagine it would be good. And driving at the same time as making a confession like that was just pure suicide.

He climbed out of the car, closely followed by Lacey, and made his way around to lean against the hood, hands in the pockets of his jeans. She stood in front of him, her eyes narrowed slightly to see him through the harsh sunlight that shone down over them. There was a look in his eyes that she didn't like, it made her nervous.

"Lacey," he sighed, shaking his head at himself. "There was a minute back there...in hell...just the tiniest second..." He looked down at the ground between them, he couldn't tell her. He just couldn't.

"Dean." she pressed, stepping forwards slightly until she was right in front of him. Her eyes were fixed on his, understanding and kind, comforting. If only she knew. "Come on, it can't be that bad, right? Just, tell me what's wrong."

Dean sighed, defeated. "I wanted to do it, Lacey." he told her simply, guilt written all over his face. He could barely look her in the eyes. "I wanted to hurt you. Call it bloodlust or whatever you want...but that isn't who I am. I'm not here anymore. I'm not me."

Lacey stared at him for a long moment, watching him intently. She didn't know what to say. Her brother was telling her that he had wanted to torture her. How was she supposed to take that? She had been terrified of him, she had seen the danger in his eyes before he had realised who she was. He had been ready to hurt her, and a part of her had known that. But even after he had realised it was her, he had still wanted to do it. Was she supposed to hold that against him? She knew Dean. She knew the real Dean, the one who was standing there with tears in his eyes, as though he was waiting for her to turn and walk away from him. The Dean who had been down there in hell, the Dean who had been twisted enough that he had tortured, that wasn't her brother.

That Dean didn't matter to her anymore, because, as far as she were concerned, he had been left behind in hell. Until the moment Dean started tying down innocent people on earth and torturing them to death, that Dean was gone. He was in the pit, and he wasn't coming back. They were away from that whole nightmare. They had to put it behind them. For both of their sakes.

"Dean," she spoke softly. "It's okay." she whispered. They had to stick together, because they needed each other. Now more than ever before. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters." he snapped, and she knew the only person he was angry at now was himself. It wasn't her. "Lacey, I'm sorry." The unshed tears in his eyes shimmered with the reflected sunlight as he struggled to hold them back. "I'm so sorry. I—"

But before he could say anything else, Lacey stepped forwards, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. Somehow, that made Dean feel even worse. He didn't want her kindness, or her forgiveness, he didn't deserve it. He didn't understand it. But he didn't refuse it. His arms wrapped around her middle and his head rested to her shoulder as the tears slipped from his eyes. He could feel her body shaking slightly, and he realised, that was the first time either of them had hugged anyone since that night they had met in hell, that night that seemed to be so many years ago.

Everything was spoken in that one action that neither of them could say. There was an unspoken knowledge that everything was still okay, that they were still the same as they had been before everything had gone wrong and Dean had gone to hell. Nothing that had happened in that time mattered anymore, because they were out, and they were free. They had survived it all and made it out the other side. They were back. Everything else they could work out later. For now, they had each other.

"We'll be alright, Dean." she whispered, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. "Everything's gonna be fine. We're out. We're not going back."

Dean pulled back to look at her and nodded, finding a small smile on his face. "I know." he said softly. "I know." He allowed his hands to slip from her shoulders down to her wrists and stopped for a moment, thinking back to that night in hell when they had been strapped down, holding her to that table in front of him, when he had raised that knife to her. But he shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn't face them, not there. Not yet. "Come on," He pushed himself up from the hood of the Impala and forced a wider smile. "We'll head to Bobby's, find Sammy. We're gonna be fine. I know it."

With that, he rested an arm around her shoulders, tightly holding her against his side, and she didn't protest. There was a considerably smaller space between them as they climbed back into the stolen car, and they smiled at each other as he started the engine.

They were okay.

They had made it.

Things were okay again.

Okay, I think that's it, anything that comes after this would pretty much just be the beginning of season four.

So thank you so much for reading and for your reviews/favourites/follows!

Hope you enjoyed! :)