Surviving Is Just Step One
Author: Cheryl W.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.
Author's note: Little heads up that the Purgatory scenes are a little harsh because no one's having any fun there but the ghouls.
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Chapter 19: Everybody Loses
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Rule # 19: Sooner or later, everybody loses but being alive long enough to reap the unholy consequences of defeat, that's the fate of the wretched.
SNSNSNSN~ Present ~ SNSNSNSNS
Dean violently jerks awake, can still hear the echo of his shouted "No!" reverberating in the room over his heaving breaths, feels the dampness in his sweat soaked hair and the pounding of his heart in his chest. Takes a moment to come back to the here and now, to remember he's not in Purgatory, that it's not trees rimming his perimeter but walls and medical equipment. And there is no Cas and Benny. On a bright note, there are no ghouls either.
Cursing, he raises a trembling hand to cover his eyes. Doesn't know when this will stop…if it will stop. If this is what crazy feels like. To be caught up between the memories of the past and reality of the present, to not know which is real.
'They both are,' he viciously reminds himself, can't shove everything that happened in Purgatory under the rug, pretend it wasn't real, that the harm his actions inflicted on his friends wasn't real. It was real, all too real.
He had backed them into that corner, his actions, his inactions, his stupidity had put them there. His dogged need to get back to Sam, his anticipation of that reunion had been the stumbling block….not only to him but to Cas, to Benny. 'Just like it's to Sam.' Because Sam, he suffered bitter consequences for Dean's "devotion," to him.
If Dean had only stayed away, could only just stay away from Sam…where would his little brother's life be right now?! Dean can't help but think of the Djinn's world, Sam with Jessica, so happy, so….safe. And if it that weren't meant to be, there were a thousand other happily-ever-afters Sam had had…and let slip through his fingers. For him, because he never left Sam on his own, because he couldn't bear to be alone, because it didn't seem much of a life without his brother.
But he had let Benny go, had broken ties with the vampire. For Benny's own good. Because he valued Benny's life. 'How can I do any less for Sam, my own friggin brother?!' Because Sam's life with him….it was only going to get Sam killed…again. Especially now, with his melon screwed up, with him slipping off to let's-remember-when-monsters-roamed- the-earth at any given moment. And if that wasn't bad enough, he knew he wasn't just a physical danger to Sam. No, he was heaping more sins on his brother's soul, driving Sam to stain his hands further with innocent blood…like Mac, Ivan and Vicki's. Three people, albeit crazy as a loon and callous as a politician, that his brother had let die, for him, to save him.
He startles as knuckles wrap on a door, drops his hand to see a nurse standing there. "Ok, if I come in to check your vitals?" the sixty-something, grey haired woman asks with a tender, almost sympathetic smile.
"Yeah," Dean replies, embarrassed at how husky his voice comes out and suspicious that the nurse hadn't just arrived there, had been there to see him jerk awake.
Her hands are cold on his sweat soaked skin as she checks the IV site on his hand. He watches as she looks up to the monitor beside his bed and he can't tell if she likes the findings or not. Hating the silence, he breaks it with a flirty, "So, how am I doing? How soon can I get back to my world tour and adoring fans?"
The woman who is old enough to be his grandmother gives him an encouraging smile she probably bestows on her ten year old grandson when he tells her he is going to be a pro ball player. "You'll be up and about before you know it. And something tells me your fans will wait for you."
Dean can't help snorting at the woman's placating methods but he finds himself smirking. "You're good," he praises, enjoys the talents of a fellow con artist.
With a twinkle in her eyes, she retorts, "I know."
Then they both turn as a noise comes from the vacant visitor's chair in the room, the one Sam had made his home.
Turning, the nurse scoops the ringing cell phone up. "Here's one of your fans now," she teases as she helpfully clicks to accept the call before it goes to voice mail and hands it off to Dean. Then with a wave, she's out of the room, leaving Dean there, holding a phone that's not his. Is Sam's.
Not sure what to do, knowing it could be Sam, checking up on him because he had been MIA…well, Dean honestly doesn't know how long his brother's been gone. So he answers with a vague, "Yeah."
He doesn't immediately recognize the woman's voice that begins to ramble in his ear.
"I know we agreed that if we didn't both go to the motel, it was over and I said we couldn't keep changing our minds and I'm into stalker territory here but…" Only then does she seem to take a breath. "…I can't stop wanting to go back to what we had."
Amelia. Dean suddenly feels cold all over. Amelia was offering Sam a second chance. To be with her. To leave him. Knows he should announce that he's not Sam or simply hang up but he doesn't want her thinking Sam had hung up on her, had refused her offer. 'Because he might not. Maybe shouldn't.' Because if the roles were reversed, if Lisa had given him a second chance after the whole vampire thing had passed….
His throat so closed off that it feels like a hand's crushing it, Dean struggles for nonchalance as he finally speaks. "Ah, sorry. Sam's not around right now."
For a beat, only silence comes back to him. And then Amelia's words are again flowing in a breathless wave. "Oh my gosh, you must think … Wait. Who are you? Why do you have Sam's phone?" Worry and indignation making her last two questions sharp.
Not wanting to counter what Sam had told her about him, especially the part about him being dead, Dean goes with a non-committal, "I'm a friend of Sam's. He's out running an errand and forgot to take his phone with him."
"So he's not there…isn't just avoiding my call?" she suspiciously asks before she quickly commands, "Don't answer that. You must think I'm stalking him or…You know what, why am I justifying my actions to you? If you were any kind of friend of Sam's, you would have been there for him after his brother died. But Sam never got any calls, never went out for drinks with anyone. What did you say your name was?" Amelia poses like a grade A interrogator.
Trying to avoid putting another lie out there, Dean doesn't respond to her inquisition, says instead, "Sam will be back soon. And I won't say you called but….he'll want to hear what you have to say, needs to hear it. So…call him back later, say what you just said."
Surprise and hope vibrates though Amelia's reply, "You really think he'll want to talk to me?" Hope that she could hear Sam's voice again, even if it is Sam denying her what she wants. And Dean can't blame her for that, for knowing what a gift it is to have Sam in her life, in their lives. A gift he repaid with nothing good, with all heartbreak and no joy.
And it's almost the hardest thing he's ever had to choke out but he does it anyways, because Sam deserves the choice, the chance for safety, maybe even happiness. "He'll want to talk to you, Amelia."
"Ok, I'm…I'll call back. Thanks," she replies with an echo of gratitude.
Then their first and probably last conversation is over and Dean's hand closes tightly around the phone, threatens to crush it. Inhaling a sharp breath, he forces his fingers to unclench as he begins to contemplate the future, the one without Sam in it. The one without even Benny or Cas in it. The one with him all alone.
SNSNSNSN ~ Present ~ SNSNSNSN
When Sam makes his reappearance, Dean's waiting for him, barely lets him cross the room's threshold before he says, "Thought you left."
Trying not to read accusation into his brother's greeting, Sam calmly counters with a convenient half-truth that's easier than confessing he's scared spitless that this won't last, them together, that he'll say or do something wrong. "Just had to go to the motel, grab my laptop."
"Checking to see if your college application's been accepted?" Dean challenges, no sign of teasing in his pale expression or the eyes that pin Sam where he stands stalled, midway between the door and his brother's hospital bed.
And for all that Sam knows he deserves that, it doesn't stop him from flinching.
Embarrassed at his sneer, Dean drops his eyes from Sam's, knows it's not fair to taunt Sam, not when all Sam wants to do is be safe. 'Which he'll never be around me. Just ask Cas and Benny…or Mom, Dad, Bobby, Rufus, Jo, Ellen, Pam, Ben, Lisa. The list could probably trace back to the kid I kicked a ball around with in grade school, probably managed to screw his life up somehow too.' Because it was a proven fact: there's nothing but pain in store for anyone crazy enough to tie themselves to him.
Once, years ago, he had known the right thing to do: Let Sam go. Let Sam walk out the door and go to Stanford. 'It shouldn't be this hard to do that again.' To be that selfless, for Sam, because Sam's safety, it is the thing that Dean cares about most, would always care about.
Picking Sam's cellphone off his lap, he manages a weak, but on target toss to Sam, who deftly catches it. "Forgot your phone. That why you came back?"
And for the life of him, Sam doesn't know what happened in the forty five minutes he's been gone. Because, he could have sworn, when he left, Dean actually liked him, wasn't contemplating fratricide. And now, that's practically a foregone conclusion if he leaves the next few moments up to Dean's planning.
Since sometimes bluntness is the only way through Dean's steel walls, Sam demands, "What's wrong with you? I leave for a while and now you're pissed at me." But at the jump in Dean's jaw, he sighs, knows it isn't fair, getting angry at Dean when it's evident his brother's in pain, is frustrated by his weakness, not to mention he just had to deal with Zeke's emotional fallout over his friends' deaths. That knowledge, coupled with what the nurse had told him on his way back to Dean's room, has him chastising himself for nearly losing his temper. Exhaling, empathy returning to the forefront of his emotions, his next words come out soft, "The nurse said you had another episode."
"Episode," Dean indignantly repeats, feeling a little betrayed by the nurse ratting him out to Sam. "Is that what we're calling it now?! It wasn't an episode, or a temper tantrum or a psychotic break, it was a bad dream, Sam. That's. All."
"Dream or memory?" Sam quietly inquires, forcing himself to not shy away from Dean's startled then hurt gaze. Because if he doesn't start making inroads to Dean opening up to him, he fears the way will become impassable to him, maybe even to Dean, who has a fantastic track record of entombing himself, with all his pain locked right in there with him.
Dean feels caught out in the open with Sam's perceptiveness. And though there is absolutely no judgment in Sam's eyes, what's there twists his gut: understanding. Worry. But even more so, there's a desire to protect him. And that's worse than all the rest, leads, not to just a bad turn of events, but to death and destruction. Condemnation. Just ask his Dad or Jo…oh wait, you can't. Because they had died trying to protect him, save him.
Sam could ask Benny and Cas. They could attest to how things went down when they put their lives on the line for him. Could…if he hadn't given Benny his walking paper and Cas hadn't flown off to parts unknown after Alfie's death. And it hadn't escaped his notice that neither spent any time protesting leaving him this time, had both showcased more sense than they did in Purgatory. So who said a human couldn't teach an angel and a vampire common sense?!
He doesn't realize he's zoned out until he blinks, sees Sam's transported to his side, has a hand on his shoulder, is repeating his question, this time amped with discernible worry. "Dean, hey, was it a dream or memories? Maybe if you tell me about…."
"I'm fine," Dean bluntly cuts across his brother's too soft tone and drops his shoulder under Sam's hand as if he's trying to skitter out from the physical contact.
Dean's denial, Dean's sudden aversion to his touch, it sparks a well of anger in Sam. "Yeah, you're just great," he darkly drawls, his sarcasm sharp enough to draw blood. But it's desperation that chokes his next entreaty. "Dean, why don't you just…talk to me, man. Why do you have to wait until you're at your breaking point before you talk to me?!"
But Dean's whiplash retort is anything but yielding. "A lecture about opening up from the guy who didn't tell me about his visions way back when, his blood addition, or his hell hallucinations?! No, Sam, you don't get to tell me to open up when you're crap at doing it." Which is followed by a twisted hostile smile. "But then again, it's not like you trust me."
For a moment, Sam's lost track of the argument because, seriously, isn't it Dean's trust in him that's in question. He makes his comeback in a squawk of surprise, "What?! I trust you."
Dean's eyebrow arches in objection. "Really? Because you're still keeping secrets from me."
"No, I'm not," Sam fervently swears even before he understands the origin of Dean's accusation. Then it hits him: Zeke's survival. Stepping closer to Dean, he denies, "No, no, Dean I had no clue Zeke wasn't dead. None."
"I'm talking about the distress signal, something you never mentioned to me," Dean stonily corrects Sam's conjecture, waits to see Sam's reaction. But Sam's poker face stays in play, leaves him still in the dark. Frustrated, his next words ring with even greater accusation. "And, oh yeah, I saw an interesting text message from a week ago on your phone. You're having Garth try and track down Benny?! What part of, Benny's my friend, don't you get, Sam?! And come on, Garth?! Benny could take Garth out in his sleep."
Sam is torn between justifying his actions and apologizing for them. He had made that call to Garth when he was still in Texas. He had been reeling at the news that Martin was dead by Benny's hand and had just let Dean walk out on him. Then he spent the next hour pacing in the motel room, hurt, fury and worry coursing through him before his worry won out. Well, enough for him to put someone on Benny to make sure he knew if…when the vampire's path intersected again with Dean's. Had never quite figured out what he would do when that became the case.
But now, after the past week, after coming to see, not only how much Dean valued Benny, but some reasons why, his actions seem induced more from childish jealousy than protective instincts.
Sam's silence, it only angers Dean more. "For a guy who didn't give a crap for a solid year about the supernatural, didn't lose a wink of sleep if a nest of vamps chowed down on a whole town, you sure care a lot about one vampire's diet," Dean snidely observes.
That has Sam going rigid with fury. "Yeah, you know why that is, Dean?! Because I didn't want you to be on his menu." At Dean's look of angry denial, he speaks before Dean can. "That's why it was my idea to handcuff you to the radiator after Martin knocked you out." Though Dean's face contorts in outrage, Sam is the first one to point an accusing finger at his brother. "You refused to be objective! You were going to protect Benny, even if he did kill those people. You left me no choice, Dean!" Silently he qualifies, 'Not if I wanted to keep you safe, not if I didn't want to just let Benny steal my own brother away from me.'
Dean nods sagely but there's raw condemnation in his words. "No choice. Like you had no choice but to write me off, put me in your rearview mirror and start your happily ever after." Giving a bitter snort, he shakes his head. "I wish I had your ability to easily turn my back on people, would save me a lot of heartache." But more importantly, he knows that trait would have saved so many lives. If he had just walked away, had done what Sam had, gotten out, gone away, walked as far away as he could because, Sam might have had the tainted blood, but he was the one cursed.
Sam is wholly unprepared to be under attack again for his actions, not when Dean had given him absolution. 'In the forest…when he was dying and delirious,' he clarifies, suddenlyrecognizing the extenuating circumstances in which Dean's forgiveness had been granted.'Idiot, it was a dying man making peace, wasn't something Dean expected to have to live up to, to actually look at you every day after and just pretend what you did no longer mattered, hadn't hurt him, soul deep. But it did and you have to make that right somehow. If Dean lets you.' Sam starts out with a stammering, "Dean I …."
But Dean's apparently heard it all before.
"Yeah, the girl, the dog, the life you always wanted," Dean ticks off, as if it's an idiotic and boring tally of wishes, pretends that he doesn't understand Sam's attachment to all of it.
And grimly, Sam realizes that is all Dean's going to see. The idyllic life he had taunted Dean with since his brother's return. The never subtle declarations about that being the life he wanted to get back to, seemingly valued a whole lot more than he did the one he shared with Dean. Lies, all of them. He didn't even tell Dean about Amelia's husband, that his happily ever after, it was a sham on all fronts. Was over even before he knew Dean was alive, back. Had bragged about going back to a life that wasn't even on the table for him to reclaim…not until Dean sent him on that wild goose chase back to Amelia, not until she offered him another chance to have that future together.
But he didn't choose her. He chose Dean.
So why couldn't Dean accept that?! Why couldn't Dean see that nothing mattered more to him than he did. That he had been terrified of losing him all over again, had done everything he could, everything he had to, in order to keep him alive, with him. But if Dean couldn't get over the past, couldn't grasp what even strangers could, that he treasured his brother, where did that leave him, them? "If you're not going to forgive me, let me tell my side…" he hoarsely begins, is meet with Dean's unblinking stare. He shifts on his feet before he croaks out the rest. "I mean, if you're not even going to talk to me about Purgatory, why did you even ask me to stay with you, Dean?!"
"I didn't," Dean coldly corrects, forcing himself to not flinch, to not give one hint of just how hard this is for him. "I told you to go be with Amelia, Sam. I told you to go and don't ever look back."
At Dean's unvarnished retelling, Sam's breath catches, but he doesn't notice. Not when his world is crumbling around him. "You…you didn't mean it, not really." Because this isn't how he saw things going, not after the past few days, not after fighting, pleading, begging in that forest to not lose Dean all over again and being granted his wish.
"Didn't I?" Dean unemotionally challenges. He can't be weak, not now. Not when he's a liability to everyone around him. Sam had committed near murder to save him, proof enough that, if he stays with Sam, he will only further taint Sam's soul. No, he's no good for anyone. Cas was right, to seek penance, to exact his own punishment on himself. And this is to be his: To be alone. To make sure no one else gets hurt trying to save him. Enough people had already paid that price too often, Sam more than once.
Sam's face screws up into anguished pain. "No, Dean, I know you…."
"I don't think you do, Sam!" he harshly contradicts because Gordon was right about him, Mac too. Just under the surface, there was something evil vying to be let loose. That part of him that enjoyed inflicting pain, taking lives.
But Sam's not getting the point, is still standing there, features tight with zealous denial, looking unlikely to leave.
So Dean makes a silent vow to make him leave.
"I called Benny to come pick me up," he lies outright, does it because it is for the best. "You probably don't want to be around when he gets here."
And it's wrong that anger isn't the prominent emotion pouring off of Sam, that grief and pain are, that his brother's eyes are welling. So he jerks his head toward the door, commands, "Just go Sam."
That at last evokes anger in his brother. Unleashing a venomous curse, Sam violently strikes out and flips the sterile tray over before he stalks out the door, leaves him alone.
Just like he wants, right?!
But Dean's not that delusional, knows it's the last thing he wants, to be alone, to have Sam gone. Nevertheless, he's not going to call Sam back to his side, will just endure the loneliness. And it's cold comfort to know he's doing the right thing, is ensuring that no one else he cares about will be in danger because of his crappy luck. That what happened in Purgatory won't have a repeat.
SNSNSNSNSN ~ Purgatory ~ SNSNSNSNSN
Considering Cas no longer a threat to his clan, the paternal ghoul left his wounded prey to the tender mercies of his children and did a lazy bold stride to the prize of all prizes. It didn't escape his notice that the human made no move to scamper away, in fact, did not move, at all, not a leg, not a finger. Coming to a stop, he looked down at the human at his feet, found that defiance blazed in the green eyes boring into his.
When the ghoul's eyes raked down the length of his body, Dean wasn't sure if he was being measured for leftovers or if the ghoul was simply inspecting his prize. "Find something you like?" he bit out, because his first instinct when vulnerable was always to goad, to show his opponent that he wasn't going to beg. At least not for his own life.
"Oh yes," the ghoul drawled with merry anticipation with a flash of his filthy, blood stained teeth again. Then he sank to a crouch at Dean's side and ran his fingers down Dean's face. His carcass generated a threat in the man's eyes but absolutely no physical retaliation. "Can't move, huh?" he smirked, knew some of the inhabitants, even here, didn't have the stomach for taking a kill savagely, liked to paralyze their victim so they didn't struggle when they ended their life.
He, on the other hand, was disappointed. He loved a fighting, terrified meal, made the meat all the move savory, to know he took what was so not willingly offered. Slipping his hand off the human's face, he knew he didn't want to rush this, wanted to enjoy every moment, every morsel because who knew if this delicacy would ever come his way again.
Waiting for the eating to begin, Dean tracked the ghoul's every move, tried to interpret his expression, wasn't prepared when the ghoul sank his knife, not into him, but into the ground beside him, within his reach…if he could move. The ghoul's cruel chuckle told him that the monster enjoyed taunting him with hope, false as it was.
"Can't reach it, huh?" the ghoul jeered as he removed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, planned on getting elbow deep in his meal at some point. Then he retrieved the knife from the ground and pressed it under the human's chin. The man couldn't stiffen in fear but his eyes spoke volumes…but fear wasn't the best seller – hatred was. But he could work with that. "My last meal on earth was a coroner and his memories have taught me to appreciate the simplicity of the Y incision of an autopsy," he shared as he slowly trailed the knife down the human's neck to the top of his sternum.
"Yeah? Well, do one on yourself and I'll critique you," Dean glibly suggested even as he fought down an internal shiver of fear. Funny that, for all the times he had died, he had never made it to the morgue, never had the pleasure of a Y incision…until now.
The ghoul laughed in spike of himself. "A meal with a sense of humor. Nice." Then he leaned closer and Dean choked on his putrid breath. "But I really am more of a horror fan than a comedy person, prefer screams renting the air."
Afraid the ghoul's words were the preamble to a killing blow to Dean, Cas struggled to regain his feet amid his agony but even as he was victorious, two ghouls seized onto him, arresting his progress to Dean. "Leave him alone!" he commanded with his angelic hell-and-brimstone timbre.
But Dean and his ghoul didn't even acknowledge the angel's outrage.
"That's a bit morbid but I guess you really are what you eat," Dean volleyed back, didn't blink but held the ghoul's gaze unflinchingly because screw him.
Something akin to eagerness sparked in the ghoul's eyes. "Yes, and soon I'll be you." Then with sick gentleness, he opened Dean's jacket up and slid Dean's shirts up to expose the human's chest. "We'll start slow, so we can both enjoy it," he reassured right before he skillfully cut into the first layer of skin, drew blood from Dean's shoulder across to his breastbone.
"NO!" Benny shouted in fury as he shoved away the ghouls pinning him to the ground and staggered to his feet. But he had gone only three steps toward Dean before he was tackled to the ground. He let out a surprised cry of pain as a knife blade pierced his back of his shoulder.
Cas' attempts to reach Dean, to prevent his friend from suffering more pain were similarly put down with brute strength. But even as the ghouls rested a knife at his throat, he furiously growled to the ghoul torturing Dean. "Let him go!" Silently vowing to bring all the wrath bottled up inside him to bear on the ghoul if he took Dean's life. Would resurrect himself if he had to, so he could see vengeance done.
Without looking up from his work, Dean's ghoul cautioned, "Tell your friends to keep it down. I'ld hate for the knife to slip." Apparently thought an example was in order because he put greater pressure on the knife as he drew it across Dean's other shoulder.
Burning pain trailed along the knife's path across Dean's chest and Dean fought back an agonized cry. Hated that he was nearly panting when the knife was withdrawn, watched in sick dread as the ghoul licked his blood off the knife. Found himself wishing that there was enough caterpillar venom still cursing through his veins to infect the ghoul but he didn't hold out much hold.
"I almost forgot how good that is," the ghoul said with pleased awe. Sampling more of the human's blood, he groaned in pleasure like Dean would after the first bite of pie.
There was no way to smother his fear, not when Dean knew what was to come. Sure, it wouldn't be as bad as Hell because he wouldn't be put back together again only for the torture to start all over again. Would die…but not anytime soon, thanks to the ghoul's lexicon of medical know how. But his fear wasn't all about his life ending, was about what might come before that: Cas and Benny dying. And maybe him breaking. Because, let's face it, it wasn't unprecedented.
Closing his eyes as the ghoul started where his first two cuts crisscrossed and drew the blade down his chest, Dean could almost hear Alistair's mocking voice.
"Oh, don't worry. If I haven't scratched that itch, I will. I have all of eternity to find it."
Then he could hear his own scream echoing, carrying half way across Hell.
Eyes flying open, breath heaving, Dean prayed that he didn't give the ghoul the satisfaction of getting a scream out of him. There was no echo of it, no rawness in his throat but there was shouting. Benny and Cas' voices were renting the air, heaping threats on the ghouls as they helplessly watched the blood welling on Dean's chest now down to his navel.
Shooting a look over his shoulder at the human's incensed friends, the ghoul turned his bloody lips up into a smile. "Don't worry. Just light surface cuts so afar. I need to see if he's tender or tough."
"I'm better with salt," Dean helpfully supplied, earning him the ghoul's full attention again. "I'll wait here while you go grab some."
The ghoul chuckled. "Again that fearlessness. Seems like there's little hope you'll beg for mercy. That's a shame because that's my favorite dinner conversation."
"Guess it's true what they say, that dinner conversations aren't what they used to be," Dean retorted, more resolved than ever to not give the ghoul what he wanted.
For a moment, the ghoul simply looked down at Dean, contemplating but then a sure smug smile emerged. "Maybe we need to engage our other guests into the conversation. I'm not all that hard to please. If you won't beg for your own life…maybe you'll beg for your friends' lives. Well, or at least their quick deaths."
And Dean could hear scuffling out of his limited line of vision, could envision the ghouls holding Cas and Benny preparing to go in for the kill. And though his fear spiked into the red haze of terror, Dean fought to keep himself locked down, knew it would do Cas and Benny no good if he faltered under the threat. So he gave the ghoul a condescending smirk, "Maybe you missed the sign at the town limits. This is Purgatory, not high school. Nobody has friends here. So go ahead, have your way with them. And I hope you do it slow. Means more time for me to regain movement, take your knife away from you and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Stunned by the human's callousness, the leader almost changed his plans, useless as they seemed now. Until he realized that, even if the human wasn't affected by his companion's agony, he himself still wanted to witness it. They had had little chance to actually prep their food of late and he missed the finesse of entertainment before a meal.
"Bring them here," he commanded even as his gaze remained locked on the human's, hoping to detect a flickering of worry for his companions. But none showed, instead the human's eyes grew darker, eclipsed whatever meager light he thought he had detected before.
Benny and Cas didn't struggle as they were pulled to their feet and prodded forward. At least they were heading in the right direction, toward Dean. Then they were forced to their knees side by side. The good news was they were nearly close enough to touch Dean. The bad news, well more bad news was, the head ghoul was still kneeling at Dean's side, bloody knife in hand, effectively blocking their way to their friend.
As foolish as it was, Dean couldn't help but let his eyes stray to his best friends. Could sell that heartless lie to the Ghoul Master but didn't want Cas and Benny to believe it for a second, not when it might be the last thing shared between them. Needed them to know how friggin' sorry he was for what was about to happen to them.
Benny understood Dean's ploy, would have even played along with it, if Dean didn't level that broken look at him. Like he thought this was on him, them being invited to this BBQ. Unconcerned about what their present company would think, he smirked at the man he loved like a brother. "We had a good run, brother. Don't regret any of it." Hated that his words didn't ease Dean's guilt but only added pain to his friend's too expressive gaze. As if suspecting that his weakness was visible to one and all, Dean closed his eyes, shut himself off and him out.
"Dean," Cas called out, prompting Dean's eyes to open and meet his own. But then words failed the angel, like they usually did when it came to expressing his emotions.
But, like so many times before, Dean didn't need Cas to use words to convey his sentiments. With one solid sad but affectionate look, the angel gave Dean utter absolution and heaped guilt on his own shoulders for their predicament. Hated that he had failed Dean again. That this time, there seemed little hope for a resurrection, for either of them.
And though it was the angel and vampire's throats that knives were pressed to, Dean felt his own throat constrict in pain. Knew that, it would do no good to beg for his friends' lives, that Benny and Cas were going to die anyway. That their's was probably as easy a death as Purgatory ever bestowed on its inhabitants, one deft slice of a knife and their pain would be over. That didn't stop him from wanting to do everything in heaven and hell to save them.
But they weren't in heaven where grace was granted and they weren't in hell where deals were made.
No, they were in Purgatory, where only the strong survived to see another day.
When Dean's eyes widen in revelation, Cas, no matter his dire situation, found himself hopeful that his friend had not conceded to defeat just yet, for any of them. But Dean's words were not the encouraging ones he expected.
"Cas, this is all on you," Dean indicted, nearly winced at the flinch that coursed through Cas at his accusation. "Never could keep your big mouth shut. If you'd done less talking and more action, we would have been long gone from here. But no, you're always Mr. Doom and Gloom, predicting we wouldn't make it, like the friggin' sky was gonna fall in on us at any movement."
Cas' head tilted in confusion. Yes, he did hesitate to leave Dean's side to go to Benny and his delay had cost them the element of surprise. And it was true, he hadn't ever estimated their chances for survival very highly but to bring that up now seemed futile. "Dean, I am sorry if my pessimistic attitude in any way led to this."
It took a moment but Benny figured out Dean's new play and it was a crazy one. But he had come to appreciate the man's knack for making crazy work for him. But Cas? Benny nearly sighed at the angel's ignorance at Dean's over the top hints. Shouldn't the angel be able to follow Dean logic? I mean he'd been his guardian angel for years, couldn't he predict a do or die move coming from Dean a mile away.
Knowing he had to spell it out better for the angel, Dean growled, "Just stop with the angel crap, Cas! Stop shielding. Just, for once, say what you mean. You're pissed at me because you know this is all my fault. Not just you about to be a ghoul meal but you being in Purgatory. You shoulda sided with Dick and his friends." Then he leveled a meaningful look to Cas and commanded, "You should maybe do that now."
And it was lunacy, what Cas perceived Dean was asking him to do. To drop his shielding, to let the Leviathans know where he was, to come, not only to kill him but Dean and Benny, who were both unable to defend themselves. It would mean all of their deaths.
But Dean's look was imploring, was asking him to trust him, one last time.
And Cas remembered every death he had died, that each one had come about because he sought to save the human soul that he had pulled from hell. Risked everything because that soul was worthy of his sacrifice, because the man was his friend, because Dean deserved his loyalty. None of that had changed.
"They are coming," Cas somberly announced, eyes holding Dean's, marveling at the misplaced relief in his human friend's gaze.
Beside him, Benny cursed and muttered under his breath, "I like ring side seats but this ain't gonna be pretty."
Then six Leviathans were raining down from the sky.
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TBC
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Thanks for reading. And love to all my wonderfully supportive reviewers! You guys make my day!
Have a great day!
Cheryl W.
