Author's Note:
Thank you all for your support!
Thanks to Rose0, aliengirlguy, SPN Mum, and ToxicTenshi for their reviews of chapter 3!
Chapter 4 - You Aren't Alone
Every time Sam tried something new, his nightmares got worse. At first, he had hoped that the increased intensity of Lucifer's torments were in response to the fact that Sam had almost succeeded, but he had let go of that dream pretty quickly. Lucifer was manipulative, smart, and cruel, and used every trick he had to make Sam suffer for even thinking of depriving him of his vessel.
Sam had been on his own for a week, and had tried two different methods of killing himself. The first time, he had used a potion he had invented himself. The recipe was an amalgamation of four different death spells and two eternal sleep curses that he hoped would at least keep him under, even if it didn't kill him. He was only gone for two hours.
The second time, which had been the day before, he had spent most of the morning enchanting an arrowhead and etching various sigils into the surface. He'd then dipped in what remained of his death potion from the last try, and stabbed it directly into his heart. He'd been out for closer to four hours that time, but he'd still come back. The box with Bobby's address on it had been packed and unpacked twice now, and he was no closer to a solution.
It was the previous night, after his attempt with the arrowhead, when Lucifer had been really angry. He had been furious before, but his anger seemed to escalate daily. He was angry that Sam was hurting himself, whether through the cutting or his suicide attempts, and angry that Sam dared attempt to take himself out of the picture. Ultimately, he was angry that Sam wouldn't just tell Lucifer where he was and get it over with. The night before, however, was when it had finally seemed to click that all of his manipulation and threats to Sam himself weren't doing anything he wanted.
So, Lucifer went back to a trick he'd only used once so far. He became the people Sam had let down. The worst part was that he wasn't making anything up. He'd whisper words in Sam's ear that Sam had heard directly from Bobby, Dean, and even Castiel.
"You lose my number, boy." Bobby's gruff voice snarled the words, conveying with every syllable that he wouldn't stand to be in Sam's presence a second longer.
"You're a monster, Sam, a vampire." Dean's low tones filled with such venom that had he been a snake, his words would have been deadly.
"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood." Castiel's air of judgement, knowing from their first meeting that Sam was nothing more than an abomination to Heaven.
Any words Lucifer tried to get to him with from Bobby were easier to overcome. The most hurtful thing Bobby had ever said to him had been their conversation after he'd freed Lucifer, and the older hunter had been possessed, so it wasn't really him. Sam knew that, but he still had to remind himself.
There was a wealth of material Lucifer could sift through from the last year and a half of Sam's relationship with Dean, and even earlier if he was crafty enough. The voicemail Dean had left him when he was enroute to the convent was Lucifer's favorite, but he also liked their fight right before that and the fact that Dean had refused to take him back when he'd first found out he was Lucifer's vessel.
Somehow though, the worst was when he used Castiel's words. Sam was trying his hardest to make it up to Dean and Bobby. He knew he'd screwed up those relationships, and he was going to make it right. Castiel, however, was another matter entirely. Castiel was an angel, and Sam had committed what had to be the ultimate sin. Surely his soul was already impossible black. He had dreamed of angels and the reality of Heaven his whole life, praying for the salvation and guidance that might come in the form of the Heavenly Host. The reality had been much harsher. Sam did not dispute that Dean should be Heaven's chosen, but he hated the fact that he had corrupted himself so fully. Even if he made it up to Dean and Bobby and earned back those relationships, there was nothing Sam could do to redeem himself before Heaven. Of that he was sure. Castiel, being the only angel Sam knew who could so much as stand to be in the same room with him, was one of the most forceful voices Lucifer could use to make him weep from condemnation.
At least, if nothing else, Sam could be thankful for the continued usefulness of his sleep medication. It didn't keep Lucifer away, but it let him wake up rested, so that was something. Sam was also thankful that he'd chosen to keep the e-mail. Bobby insisted on regular communication, and through that Sam learned that he'd been right and Dean's hunt had been witches. The hunt had been successful and Dean was apparently enroute to a suspected mass haunting with another hunter Bobby had in the area. Sam also learned that Castiel was still avidly hunting for him, but Bobby still didn't know what exactly the angel wanted.
That day, however, when Sam booted up the laptop to begin his research again, he had an e-mail from a new address.
"Every time a bell rings at gmail dot com?" Sam muttered to himself, half raising an eyebrow at the e-mail and half amused at the reference. He also had an e-mail from Bobby, so he checked that one first.
To: Sam Winchester
From: Robert Singer
Subject: Feathers
Sam,
Look out for an e-mail from Castiel. I set it up for him and showed him how it works, but who knows if he'll actually figure it out enough to send you anything. I told him that if he wanted to get a hold of you, he should at least try you this way first, rather than going through me, since you ain't telling me squat. So, yeah. Angel's got an e-mail. That's a punchline for something.
Stay safe.
- Bobby
Sam actually chuckled now, knowing how the e-mail address came to be. Curious to find out what was causing Castiel to search for him so urgently, he clicked on the new message.
To: Sam Winchester
From: Castiel Feathers
Subject: Urgent
Sam,
Bobby informed me that I may be able to contact you with this method. He seemed skeptical that I could learn how to operate a computer well enough to send you a message, but I assumed that if I could learn how to use a mobile phone, surely electronic messaging was not a dramatic leap upwards. Also, I am unsure why the system insists on giving me a surname such as Feathers. I assume Bobby has done this, but I do not have a surname, so I am unclear as to its purpose.
Ultimately, my goal is to ascertain where you are. I am concerned for you. I am concerned for both of you, actually, but Dean is a remarkably stubborn individual, and I have found myself increasingly worried ever since you both parted ways. Bobby seems to think you are performing research. I am hesitant to ask what you might be researching, because I am fearful of the answer. I do not believe you or Dean should be alone, but I also believe that you need the support. I do not mean that I expect you to fail, if that is what you might interpret. I mean that you have a heavy burden that you do not deserve, and I am concerned that you have been forced to shoulder it alone. Compartmentalizing who is handling what aspect of the apocalypse is not wise. You should not have to deal with Lucifer's assault alone, and Dean cannot stop the entire apocalypse unaided. Please, Sam, understand me when I say that you are not alone, if only because I will do everything I can to aid you.
The message stopped there, presumably because Castiel didn't know that a sign off of some sort was customary. Sam stared at his screen for a while, not entirely sure how to respond. The fact that all of Castiel's urgent concern communicated through Bobby over the past week had been because he was worried about Sam being alone was a surprise. Even more so because Castiel didn't seem to be worried about Sam falling off the demon blood wagon or saying yes, but rather him fighting off Lucifer without help.
Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled up a reply e-mail to answer, staring at the blinking cursor for a moment before beginning.
To: Castiel Feathers
From: Sam Winchester
Subject: Thanks
Cas,
First, don't worry about the surname. Anybody you might need to e-mail knows you aren't called Castiel Feathers. The program probably required a surname, and Bobby thought it would be funny. Your e-mail address itself is a reference to an old movie about an angel. You should ask him about it sometime.
I'm not going to tell you where I am, because I don't want any interference with what I'm working on. Thank you, though, for trying. It means a lot that some part of Heaven can be worried for me instead of about me. I didn't know that was possible.
Trust me, I know Dean's stubborn. Please keep an eye on him, and don't let him do anything stupid or excessively reckless. He needs to be the one to end the apocalypse, and I know he won't do it alone. He's got Bobby and you, people he still has faith in. He doesn't have faith in me anymore, and I was only distracting him from the endgame. It's better for us to be separate right now. He can focus on saving the world like he's supposed to, and I'm going to make sure Lucifer can't get his hands on his true vessel. Without me, he's weaker. This is how I can help Dean.
Cas, again, thank you for being worried. Take care of yourself, and of Dean. I have faith in you both to stop the end of the world.
- Sam
Sam scanned the e-mail for a moment before clicking send. It was sufficiently vague enough to not set off alarm bells that would cause mass panic among the people he cared for, and clearly conveyed his gratitude to Castiel. That would have to be enough for now.
He opened a new window and went back to a search he'd been doing into mythology, using his free hand to play with the razor blade he now kept out on the table next to the laptop. He was finding it necessary to use at least once a day now, where before it had only been a few times a week. At least that meant Lucifer was getting desperate. If he was desperate, then Sam was doing something right. A link for enchanted poisons of Chinese culture caught his eye, and he clicked it.
It took him an hour to read through the whole website, but as he scanned his notes he thought he might have found his next attempt. The only issue was the ingredients. It would require a drive to find some of the stuff he needed, but it wasn't like he had anything else going on. This particular method would require him to create the poison, then cast a spell with black magic over it. Some of the spell work was more intensive than anything Sam had done before, but he was confident that he could figure it out. It looked like the victims of the poison in the past had it delivered by their captors via long cuts on their arms. Sam glanced at his scarred arms and snorted wryly. At least he had some practice on that front.
Shutting down the computer, heading outside, and locking up the front door, Sam pulled the bike he'd acquired when he came into town out from behind the house and climbed on, double checking to make sure he had his wallet and everything. He'd need to go into town to be able to get a ride to a place where he could find his ingredients. He set off down the drive towards the main road, hoping someone was headed down the highway willing to take along a six foot four inch stranger.