A/N: Imagine Danneel Harris-Ackles plays Michelle. Also a big thank you to all the readers and reviewers! I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying the story :) Author out!
Chapter 13: My Brother, My Stranger
It was a two-storey motel situated inconspicuously off Interstate fifteen in Utah. It was the only building for miles, apart from a Laundromat, gas station and a small line of overpriced shops. The balconies of the Motel Magnificence were empty and still and the whole building seemed to be holding its breath. The night was close and tight, the heavy clouds so low they seemed determined to touch the aerials and satellites atop the structure, reaching for the heavens. Electrical storms had left the atmosphere charged, on the precipice of action. Waiting. Silent.
Far too silent.
Sam swung off the road and into the parking lot about an hour after night had truly fallen. There were three other cars in the lot, but each was covered in a fine layer of dust. The VACANCY sign flashed dully by the roadside as if any moment it would flicker out for good.
The air was heavy with malicious intent and Sam thought he could probably have found this place computer or not. Evil was here as plainly as were the clouds and concrete.
He pulled open the trunk of the Camaro, revealing his small arsenal to the waiting night. He double-checked that the shotgun was fully loaded and crammed a few more salt-filled shells into his pockets. His handgun was stocked with Devil's Trap bullets, and a spare magazine waited in a small holster he'd fashioned on his belt. Finally he took out Ruby's knife and held it firmly in hand. He rubbed a hand nervously over his breast as though reassuring himself that his new anti-possession tattoo was still there. Huffing a great breath out of his mouth, he slammed the trunk lid down and headed for a side entrance of the motel, the shotgun slung across his torso with a sturdy strap, the knife in his left hand resting beneath the heel of his right, which firmly gripped the silver pistol.
He picked the padlock in record time and gently slid the thick chain off the wire mesh gate, setting it down as quietly as possible on the hard ground. He could hear the faint hum of someone speaking loudly just beyond the narrow alley between two sections of the motel. He couldn't make out the words, but the voice was sure and confident.
The motel had been built in a square so that the inner courtyard and swimming pool were sheltered from the busy road and bustling life of the Interstate. Several of the Motel Magnificence's signs claimed to offer a sanctuary from the hectic life on the road, boasting too-colourful cartoonist pictures of impossibly thin and tanned women sunbathing by a giant pool while overweight businessmen enjoyed exotic cocktails.
As Sam crept forward in a stealthy crouch, the speaker's voice became clearer. He missed a step as he recognized it.
"... for all of us!" Dean declared just out of sight.
Taking a deep breath, Sam peeked around the final corner to the courtyard.
It was packed with people. If the motel had been full to capacity there wouldn't have been so many men and women here, even including the staff. There must have been about a hundred of them – and children too, Sam realised as he glimpsed a young girl with pigtails of frizzy black hair through the nearest bodies. She couldn't be more than seven years old.
They were all standing in complete silence, listening docilely to the trio atop a makeshift stage on the far side of the courtyard. The neglected swimming pool lay in the centre of the cobblestones, the water stagnant and littered with the debris of uncaring drifters.
Dean stood tall and proud on the stage, walking along its length as he gave his address to the gathered masses. Two others stood near the middle of the stage: a man and woman, who fixed the crowd with rapture gazes, as though daring any one of them to interrupt their leader.
The man was broad and muscular, thickset and intimidating. His black hair was slicked back with oil that glistened in the soft light. The woman had deep auburn hair that hung in gentle waves past her shoulders and wore a smile brimming with the confidence of the invincible. Both watched the scene through black eyes.
"I brought you here," Dean continued in a carrying voice that seemed to pass right through Sam's heart with the force of a hurricane. God, he'd missed that voice. "So that we could start again, better, and stronger than we ever have been! Join me and experience true power!"
What the hell was he talking about? Did he expect these people to follow him, just like that? They didn't even seem scared. The crowd just stood there, silently listening.
Sam swallowed, thinking fast. He had to get these people out of here, now. They acted as though they were under some sort of spell, standing so still and listening to a demon outline a bright new world for all who chose to follow him. Or else they were just plain terrified. He had to break their concentration somehow, but how?
The answer bumped against his shoulder as he slid along the wall. A fire alarm. Perfect. He slid two fingers over the small lever and pulled hard. The alarm tore through the night, shattering the silence with a violent siren. He slunk quickly into the crowd, keeping his knees bent to avoid being seen by the demons on the stage. The people he now stood among neither flinched at the sudden blaring of the alarm nor acknowledged his sudden armed appearance in their midst.
"Well, that's kinda rude," Dean said over the pulsing of the alarm. He raised a hand lazily and the alarm was cut off with an odd squeak, almost like a whimper. "I'm talking here."
Sam held his breath, afraid to make a sound. Some plan that was.
Dean seemed to sniff the air, his features twisting into a smile that was more like a sneer.
"Why don't you stand up, Sam, so we can see you?" Dean called through the silence, coming to rest in the middle of the stage. "Come and meet my friends."
As one, every face turned to look at Sam. Men, women, children, all of various race and size and age regarded him through cold, black eyes.
For a moment, fear froze his muscles solid. Every one of them. All demons. All looking directly at him.
Swallowing his fear, Sam stood to his full height as the demons around him shuffled silently aside, making a narrow path for him to the stage. He took a few wary steps forward, gripping the knife and gun more securely in his sweating hands.
"C'mon, Sam," Dean said exasperatedly. "Don't be such a wuss. Lucius and Michelle here won't hurt you!" He mumbled something else Sam couldn't make out and the demons tittered. "We haven't seen each other in, like, two months. Come give big brother a hug!" He held his arms wide in invitation while the two demons behind him chuckled.
"Dean." His voice was far steadier than he'd expected it to be. "It's okay. I'm – I'm going to fix you, okay? Just – just come with me and we'll fix this."
Dean stared at him and for a second hope flared in Sam's chest, but then Dean threw his head back and roared with laughter. He turned to the man behind him – Lucius – and whispered something in his ear. Lucius's head snapped back as the demon billowed out of the body, disappearing into the black clouds.
Sam gulped.
"Fix it?" Dean called back, stepping forward and jumping lightly down off the stage. "Sam, Sam, Sam. Haven't I already told you?" He strolled towards him, speaking as casually as if nothing had changed between them and they were simply discussing what to get for dinner.
The swimming pool lay between them, the only other break in the tightly packed bodies. Dean stepped forward over the edge of the pool without a second's hesitation. Sam expected him to fall into the green-tinged water like some cartoon character, but, amazingly, the surface held his weight. Ripples like tiny shockwaves expanded from one boot, then the other as he sauntered casually over water, as though he did this every day.
As he came closer, Sam battled the rising irrational fear that was building inside his chest. It was just Dean, just his brother. He didn't have to be afraid. To distract himself, he looked more closely at his brother's changed appearance. His hair was longer than it'd been in years, his bangs hanging in graceful spikes over his eyebrows. He wore a black jacket and trousers with a faded AC/DC t-shirt visible between the jacket's silver zips. The First Blade hung in a holster on his right thigh, secured with two thick straps around his leg. Sam knew he could bring the knife to hand in seconds if he needed to. His eyes were the familiar green, but were alight with an energy that seemed other-worldly to Sam. He looked ... well, he looked like Dean, just in slightly darker clothes and in need of a haircut and a shave, and yet Sam had to suppress a shiver. There was something about him, something almost manic about the look in his eyes that made the figure striding towards him seem ... alien.
"There isn't anything to fix," he continued when he stood just a few feet from Sam, his voice low and silky and dangerous.
Sam stared into his brother's green eyes and saw a stranger looking back at him.
"Dean," he whispered, frowning. "It's me, it's Sam. I can help you. I know you don't want to be like this."
Dean's smile turned to a snarl. "And what would you know about it?" he snapped. "You've never felt this, Sam. Never. You can't begin to imagine how it feels, this power, this, this ..." He struggled to find the right word. "This life!"
"No, I know you don't mean that, Dean, I know –"
"Oh, yes, little brother," he sneered, "I really, really do."
Michelle appeared suddenly behind Dean's left shoulder, her lips parting to show perfect white teeth as she smiled, savouring the scene before her. Beside her, another body blinked suddenly into existence, and Sam flinched in surprise. It was a clown.
A freaking clown. Complete with rainbow hair and too-big shoes and –
Black eyes.
"Ah, Lucius. Good work," Dean drawled, half-glancing behind him at the newcomer. "Have you met my brother, Sam? He loooves clowns. I think you two'd get on just great."
"Oh come on," Sam groaned as the clown-demon lunged forward and suddenly the anticipation that had charged the air since he had arrived broke and the courtyard exploded into activity. Demons attacked from all sides and Sam sliced, shot and kicked in all directions, just managing to keep a tiny bubble of space around himself, giving him room to fight.
Demons roared in delight at the sport, tearing in at him from all sides, their numbers overwhelming him. Fists made contact with his torso and he gasped for breath, slicing the offending arms before they could be drawn back to safety. Invisible forces tore at him and he cried out in pain as his insides seemed to be torn apart, but when he spared a second to glance down at his body, there was no sign of any blood. He fought with a ferocity he'd rarely felt, desperate to get away, trying to break through the endless bodies that stood between him and his only chance of escape.
Dean and the woman had vanished at some point during the fray, and Sam caught a glimpse of them back on the stage, watching him fight for his life as they laughed, arms around each other as though pausing to watch a street performer while on a date.
Knowing this was a battle he couldn't hope to win alone, he sucked in a great breath and roared, "CAS!"
A boot to his abdomen forced him to stagger back, trying to suck in more air and finish the prayer as he parried blow after blow, his pistol spitting bullets with small bursts of fiery light.
He was losing. There was too many of them. He was alone. Dean wasn't helping. Cas was too far away to get here with no wings. He was alone.
He was going to die.
His strikes became slower as his energy failed, sucked dry by the pace of the battle and the pain sparking through him.
The demons were toying with him, he knew. Any one of them probably could have killed him with a snap of their fingers, but instead they used their hands and tiny ropes of invisible magic pulling at his insides. Pummelling him with their meat suits, overwhelming him, beating him down –
The air shimmered in a silent concussion and Sam was thrown to the hard ground. Another wave of power pulsed through the night and the demons around him fell back with cries of surprise and pain. The force had come from right behind Sam and for one glorious moment he knew as he turned he'd see his brother finally come to save him, or maybe Cas, whole and strong once more, but not –
"Crowley?" he yelled over the cries and shrieks of the demons.
Crowley stood hunched over beside Sam, his dark suit in tatters and his face bloody. Something thin hung around his neck, like a pendant.
"SAM!" he bellowed, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "We gotta go!"
Before he could begin to protest, the air shifted again. The last thing Sam saw was a fleeting glance of his brother. His face was contorted in terrible rage and he seemed caught in a freeze-frame, locked in a motionless battle stance, his hand on the Blade's hilt, eyes black and mouth open in a bellow of fury.
Then the air punched right through Sam, and he seemed to collapse into the blackness of his brother's eyes.