Warnings: Here be hell PTSD, torture, language, and the ever present angst.
"We've come too far to have to give it all up now."
Brand New – 'Untitled 2'
Chapter 9
Dean herds Sam into the bathroom. They're both filthy, covered in substances that have too many memories attached to them, but Dean wants Sam to take the first shower. Sam plops down on the toilet seat while Dean turns the knob on the water faucet.
Dean glances at him as he sticks his hand under the running water, "You gonna be ok?"
A crease appears between Sam's eyebrows as he frowns. He thinks the sentence over, trying to decide if Dean's asking if he's going to pass out in the shower, or if he's going to have some sort of break down any time soon.
"Yeah," Sam answers, figuring it's a suitable response for both scenarios.
Dean nods, "You can borrow some stuff until we re-stock. We'll hit Wal-Mart tomorrow or something. You still have clothes at Bobby's, right?"
It's Sam's turn to nod.
"Good. Ok," Dean replies, sounding relieved now that he has some sort of grasp on the situation, a plan, no matter how small it is, "Yell if you need anything."
"I burned all my IDs," Sam says softly before Dean can leave.
Dean turns back around and watches him for a moment. He can't decide if Sam's just stating a piece of information or if he's apologizing for torching that part of his life. Not that it would matter, because Dean was already aware that Sam was taking himself out of hunting, there's no reason for Sam to say sorry for it.
Dean finally shrugs, "S'ok, we'll make you new ones."
Sam nods and then stands from the toilet seat.
"I'm just gonna grab some stuff from the car," Dean comments as he makes his exit, "Don't use up all the hot water."
The door shuts, leaving Sam in the bathroom with the water running.
-0-
When Sam gets out of the shower, Dean gathers up the dirty, bloody clothes from the bathroom floor, and shoves them into a trash bag. Then, once Dean's showered too, he adds his clothes to the bunch. He then ties the bag up and shoves it into a corner of the room with a disgusted look.
"Next deserted place we find we're burnin' that crap," Dean growls as he glares at the glossy, black bag, "Might add some salt too. Last thing we need is one of those assholes coming back as a spook and gunnin' for us. And you know it would happen too, with our luck…"
Dean trails off as he realizes that Sam is out cold, sleeping on top of the covers in the sweats he's borrowing from Dean. The pants are just on this side of too short and the tee shirt is too tight, but he's clean, and that's all that either of them really cares about.
Sam's soft puffs of air disturb some hair that's fallen in his face. Dean smiles fondly, feeling another wave of pure relief and gratitude spiral through him. Six hours ago, he'd thought that Sam was gone forever, and now he's watching his kid brother sleep, like none of it had ever happened. And if Dean has anything to say about, it's never going to happen again. Not ever. Sam's going to die old and happy, and after Dean does. That is, if they manage to stop the apocalypse, which isn't looking very promising right now.
A sudden, semi-familiar weight clamps down on his shoulder. Dean immediately spins, his right arm up in defense while his left hand grabs the wrist of whoever's hand is on his shoulder. Once Dean sees who got the drop on him, he relaxes and glowers.
"Damnit, Cas, I've told you…"
Dean pauses, glancing back at his sleeping sibling. He pushes past Castiel and heads for the motel door, knowing that the angel will follow. Once they are outside, Dean starts again.
"I've told you not to do that. Make some fricken noise or something."
Castiel tilts his head slightly, "My apologies. Next time I'll…make some noise."
"Good," Dean says and then rubs his hand down the back of his neck, "So, uh, what's with the late night visit? It's not doomsday stuff, right? Cause I gotta tell you, your timing really sucks."
"No, it's not doomsday stuff," Castiel responds.
Dean looks at him expectantly, "So, it's what?"
"How is Sam?"
Dean blinks and his look softens as he glances at the door to their motel room, "Ok, I think. He hasn't said much. I think he's still workin' through a lot of it. I'm not sure how much he remembers."
"How much did you remember?" Castiel asks, leaving the question hanging.
"All of it," Dean says and then shrugs, "At first it was just the big picture. But it didn't take long for it all to come back. I'm just glad Sam wasn't there long enough to get the full tour."
"He was fortunate," Castiel agrees.
"Hey, Cas? What you said to Lucifer, about Sam being taken from judgment…what's that about?"
Castiel sighs and sits on a bench that's near the vending machine, "Before souls go to heaven or hell they go through judgment. Every religion has some version of it but it's all the same thing. In judgment, the fates decide if the soul is worthy of heaven or if it should be condemned it hell."
Dean frowns and shifts his eyes, "I've died a few times, why don't I remember doing this?"
"No one remembers it, it's over in microseconds," Castiel replies, "But everyone goes through it."
"And Lucifer didn't let Sam get judged? He just nabbed him and tossed him in the pit? How is that even possible?" Dean demands, feeling new anger wash over him as he thinks of Lucifer purposefully putting his brother in hell, just for kicks.
"Archangels have the power to override judgment if that is their orders. It's rare but it happens."
Dean resists the urge to punch the vending machine in rage, "I can't wait to gank that son of a bitch."
Castiel stares at him, calculating, like he's searching for something.
"What?" Dean demands as he shifts uncomfortably.
"You killed those men."
Dean swallows but doesn't back down, just stares right back, "I did."
"You'll go back to hell."
A shrug, "Maybe."
Castiel squints, "You don't care?"
Oh Dean cares, he cares a lot. Hell is the last place he ever wants to revisit, but, he cares about Sam more. Always has, always will.
"Who knows, maybe another geek angel in a trench coat will yank me back out."
"It's not likely," Castiel replies.
Dean snorts, "Would it kill you to lie every once in a while?"
From inside the motel room, there's a short shout and then a series of thumps. Dean's moving before his brain can even finish sending the message, "Sam!"
-0-
The light in hell is not really light at all, it's more like a candle glow, just enough to reflect off of the torture devices. Sam can't make out much in the near darkness, just general shapes and angles. He thinks that makes it worse. He's drenched in sweat but he's not sure if it's from the tacky heat of hell or the agony that's thrumming through his body like a deep drum. The pain never leaves, not ever. Not when Nix stops to taunt him, not even when his body magically sews itself up and seals all the wounds. Something always hurts.
Nix laughs low in his throat, sending a Pavlov shiver down Sam's spine, "Let's start this again, shall we Sammy?"
Sam tenses up immediately, mentally begging for it all to stop, for it all to go away. Out loud, Sam says nothing. He won't give Nix the satisfaction until he has absolutely no choice.
"All you Winchesters are the same in the pit," Nix says as he twirls the slim blade in his hand, "All bravado and insults but when the fun starts, you all scream like the rest of them."
Nix does this a lot; brings up his family, especially Dean. It hurts as much as the physical pain and Nix knows it.
"Particularly Dean," Nix says with a perverse grin, "He screamed loud, louder than you."
Sam doesn't see it coming, isn't paying attention to the way the light glints on the blade as it swiftly enters his abdomen. The weapon twists; he can feel it tear at his skin, igniting his frayed nerves. The shout that erupts from his chest is unstoppable as he feels his life force spill from the wound and pool under the small of his back.
Nix hums appreciatively, "Definitely louder than you."
The blade slides free but the pain doesn't dissipate.
"The only difference is, both of them sacrificed themselves to be here," Nix continues as he circles the rack, eying Sam as he searches for the next spot to bury the razor, "But not you. You earned your stripes, Kiddo, made it to hell all on your own."
Sam's eyes burn with tears but none fall, he doesn't even think it's possible to cry in hell. He hasn't yet.
Nix puts a bracing hand on Sam's chest and drags the sharp edge right down his sternum. Sam wriggles, unconsciously trying to get away from the red hot feeling in his chest. All it does is dig the razor deeper; Sam can feel it hit bone. Nix pulls away and Sam's chest heaves as pain explodes over his torso.
Nix shrugs, "Doesn't matter how you got here though, does it? What matters is that you're never getting out. Not unless you say yes."
A dark grin spreads over Nix's face, "Just say yes, Sam. You'll get out of the pit, be able to see big brother again."
Nix places the razor in the groove under Sam's eye. His throat bobs with terror as he realizes what's about to happen.
"I bet that Dean will even forgive you if you get topside again, for all the things you did with Ruby, for springing Lucifer. He'll be so happy to see you he won't even care. All you have to do is say yes."
He wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to see Dean, wants the chance to fix everything, to kill Lucifer, to save the world. He wants out of hell. But he won't do that to himself, won't do that to Dean. They're in this together and as long as Dean keeps saying "no," then so will Sam.
"Go screw yourself."
The razor moves and Sam screams, but he still says no. He's always going to say no.
-0-
Sam wakes just before the razor can dig too close to his eye. The room's too dark and too hot, and he can still smell the sulfur, can still hear the screaming and the metallic sounds of razors and nails. Sweat coats him as if he had just stepped outside into a misting rain. He twists on the bed, pulling at the restraining clothes, feeling his heart pound as the darkness closes in. He can practically feel the splintered wood underneath him, rubbing his skin raw as he struggles under Nix's razorblade. He can feel it like Nix is right there and he just needs to get away.
Sam rolls, tumbles from the bed and then scrambles to the bathroom. He falls against the bathroom door, slamming it shut. Even with the bright florescent light he can still smell it, all the blood and the heat, the sulfur. Nix's voice echoes around him, saying that he deserves to be in hell for all he did, that it was his destiny to be in the dark with the demons. Sam wrenches his tee shirt over his head so hard that his shoulders hurt, and then he yanks off his sweatpants, and hurdles them both into the bathtub. Even with nothing on but his boxers, he still feels too constricted, too hot, and the stench of hell is still clinging to him. Without a second thought, Sam turns on the shower, making sure the temperature is ice cold. He steps into the spray and jumps when the extreme cold hits his hot skin, but he stays there, trying to erase hell from his body.
But no amount of motel soap and scrubbing is making the smell fade. He can smell it in his pores, saturating his hair. Sulfur, smoke, and blood.
That's when he spots Dean's electric razor.
-0-
"Son of a bitch!" Dean growls as he tugs on the doorknob, "Can't believe this shit. Of all the times to forget the damn room key…"
Dean shuffles back, preparing to kick in the door, not even caring about the possible cops or the extra money involved in doing so. He just cares about the fact that Sam's locked inside and he's outside.
Before his foot can make contact, Castiel grabs his shoulder, and the next thing he knows, they're in the motel room.
"Thanks," Dean breathes as he stares wide-eyed at Sam's empty bed. His gaze immediately goes to the bathroom and he relaxes a fraction when he sees the light on under the door. Then he frowns as he hears the telltale buzz of his razor.
"Sam?" Dean asks as he steps up to the door, knocking on it, "Sam, you ok in there?"
Besides the buzzing, there's silence.
"I swear to God I will bust down this door if you don't answer me. Sam!" Dean barks, feeling unease creep into his gut.
His hand grips the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. With a deep inhale, Dean pushes the door open slowly, giving Sam a chance to react. He finds no resistance, and when the room comes into complete view, Dean freezes.
"Sammy..."