A/N Sorry, again, for the long delay. Life sucks, let me leave it at that. Picking up on the rest of AHBL Prt 2, and it's aftermath
Yes, there are some pieces of dialog picked up directly from the episode; what can I say? Good writing is good writing.
Hang with me through it. New between-episodes stuff at the end. It does move up part of the last scene in s3e01, the Magnificent Seven. Again, good writing is good writing :)
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Bobby's house
Singer Salvage
Sioux Falls, SD
May 2, 2007
9:15 a.m.
"Sam?"
Bobby stood in the open doorway, staring at his boys, drinking in the sight of Sam standing strong and straight and alive in front of him like it were water after a week in the desert; looking past him to Dean, slightly hunched with a vaguely hopeful, somewhat apologetic smile.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam said, dryly. "Surprise."
They all just stood there for a moment before Sam gave him a half-smile, full of affection and amusement. "Can we come in?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," Bobby nodded, still standing there, blocking the door. "I'm just — wasn't expecting to see you up and around, so, so soon, boy."
Sam huffed a laugh, "I bet," he agreed, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his brother. "Thank this self-destructive asshole," he added and took a step forward, forcing Bobby to give way to grant them entry. "Where's the holy water?" he added, once he and Dean were inside.
"The…" Bobby stammered.
Sam shrugged. "Might as well get the preliminaries out of the way," he said as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the distinctive, hand carved, solid silver butterfly knife John had given him when he graduated high school. He lightly dragged it across his arm, then handed it to Dean who did the same.
Bobby handed them a flask and watched as they both drank, then stepped aside to let them move beyond the circle of the Devil's Trap painted on the ceiling.
"Ellen and Ash here?" Sam wondered, looking around.
"Library," Bobby told him.
Sam just nodded and went to see his friends.
Dean moved to follow him, but stopped at the hand on his arm, lifting his gaze to look into Bobby's somewhat shell shocked eyes.
"Dean?" Bobby said softly. "What did Sam mean?"
"He's just, you know. Pissy and sore, it's…"
"Don't shine me, boy," Bobby said coldly. "What did you do?"
Dean looked down and shook his head.
"You made a deal for Sam. You sold your soul," Bobby whispered. "You stupid ass!"
Dean let out a tiny laugh. "Now you sound like Sammy."
"How long d'you get?" Bobby wondered, his voice breaking.
"A year."
Bobby took a deep breath and locked his knees to keep from falling to the floor. He couldn't...
Losing Sam had been a blow like no other, almost as bad as having to kill his own wife. Seeing him walking, talking, fucking alive, after having watched over him through rigor and all the other horrible signs that screamed that he was just gone, had been a miracle and he'd have sworn his broken heart actually started to truly beat again when he'd opened the door.
And Dean stopped it again with his pronouncement.
These were his boys. He'd loved them from the moment John had dragged in a thin, silent five-year-old who held his infant brother in his tiny arms, expressive green eyes — too big, too old for such a little face — daring anyone to try to take his Sammy away, even as the clearly traumatized boy startled at every sudden noise, at every hint of fire (John had left the boys with him about a month into their first stay, dead of winter, and once John was gone, and Dean had felt safe enough to show any kind of emotion, it hadn't taken Bobby long to figure out that starting a fire in his fireplace, or even lighting a match, was enough to freak the older boy out. It had been a damn cold winter).
And sure, when they'd come to stay with him after the short (and mercifully uncontested) custody case in Asheville, it had been Dean who had custody of his brother, not Bobby. But they'd still been his, even Dean, who'd been almost a grown-ass man, as he liked to remind Bobby at every possible occasion.
God dammit, he'd just gotten Sam back and now, in a year he'd lose Dean? Would have to watch, again, as one Winchester Brother left the other behind, and the survivor fell apart?
"Damn it, Dean!"
"Which is why we have to find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him, Bobby. I'm gonna kill him myself. I got nothing left to lose, right?"
Bobby didn't often show his not-inconsiderable temper to his boys — they'd had enough of that from their Daddy — but this time, he couldn't help himself and grabbed Dean by the collar of his coat. "I could throttle you!"
"What?" Dean gave him a lopsided, entirely fake, grin. "Send me downstairs ahead of schedule?"
"You stupid son of a bitch," Bobby shook his head, letting Dean go.
"That seems to be the consensus," Dean nodded.
"I imagine Sam ain't happy."
"No," Dean admitted. "But what could I do, Bobby?" he asked, his voice cracking. "He's my baby brother. I couldn't let him die. And, man, I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, Dad saving me will do some good. My life'll mean something."
"Because it didn't already? All those people you saved were nothing? Do you really have that low an opinion of yourself? Are you that screwed in the head?"
Dean shook his head and didn't even fight the tears. "He's my responsibility, man. He has been since Mom handed him to me, the day they came home from the hospital. I gotta keep him safe. He's my kid, Bobby," he whispered. "You ain't supposed to outlive your kids. It's not natural."
Bobby relented and pulled Dean into his arms, dropping a kiss on the bowed head. "I know it, boy. But you're my kid, Dean. Now I gotta outlive you?"
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered.
After a few long seconds, Bobby set Dean away from him, wiping first his tears, then Dean's. "No, you ain't," Bobby sighed. "But thanks for saying it."
A brief noise from the direction of the library caught their attention, and Ellen appeared in the archway. "Hey," she said. "Good to see you, Dean, thanks for the heads up."
"Thank Sammy," Dean advised.
"Already did. But you two should come into the library. Ash and Sam have found something big…."
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Colt Cemetery
Southern Wyoming
May 3, 2007
12:05 a.m.
"Hey, Lady," Jake sneared, "do me a favor. Put that gun to your head."
Ellen's hand began to rise, shaking and Sam stepped forward.
"NO," Sam said and reached a hand out towards Ellen, stopping her hand half-way up, tilting the gun towards the ground.
"All right," Jake nodded. "Then, you, old man."
Bobby's hand rose slowly and Sam took a step towards him and Ellen, and Bobby's arm, too, stopped.
"Guess that just leaves you," Jake shrugged and glared at Dean.
A choked sob broke from Sam's throat as he reached his other hand toward his brother. "No," he said softly, through clenched jaw and gritted teeth. "No."
"Think you can hold them all, Sam?" Jake challenged. "You that strong?"
"I'm…stronger…than you," Sam ground out as his arms started to shake and tiny tremors ran up and down his body.
"Maybe," Jake laughed. "Maybe. But can you hold all three of them, keep 'em all from blowin' they brains out, and stop me, too?"
Sam ignored the taunt and its implication, concentrating on thwarting Jake's demonic control, on keeping his family safe, struggling to keep all three of their arms still, even as his own arms felt like they'd fly off from all their shaking, and his whole body shook.
Jake pulled the Colt from his pocket and ran towards the crypt, slotted the gun into the center hole and turned it.
The pressure on Sam's mind was suddenly gone and he collapsed to the ground, still shaking head to toe, as Ellen, Bobby and Dean dropped their arms.
"SAM!" Dean ran to his brother's side, picking him up off the ground to cradle his shaking kid in his arms. "Sam," he whispered, brushing the hair out the familiar Witch Blue eyes, wiping the blood off the lower half of Sammy's face with his sleeve,
"Okay," Sam breathed, "I'm okay. Help me up."
"You are not okay, Sammy!" Dean protested. "Jesus, you look like you're have a fucking seizure, dude."
"Help me up!" Sam insisted as he started to push himself off the ground.
Together the brothers staggered to their feet.
Jake turned away from the tomb, and smiled. "Where were we?" he wondered, and turned his attention to Bobby, whose gun arm started to rise.
"Stop it, Jake," Sam panted. "Stop this."
"What are you going to do?" Jake laughed. "You're wasted, Sam. Worn out. And me, I'm fresh as a daisy."
"Last warning," Sam told him coldly.
"Our friend still only wants one of us. Only way to keep my family safe. So, I think I'll just make your friend kill ya for me," Jake decided, and Bobby's gun swung to point at Sam, who raised a hand and twisted his wrist…
A sudden sharp crack filled the air, and Jake fell to the ground, his head twisted grotesquely to the side.
Bobby's gun fell back to his side and he just stared at Sam, who stumbled, panting, to stand over Jake, looking into his lifeless eyes.
"Don't fuck with my family," he said quietly, and turned away to face Bobby…who took a small, involuntary step backwards. "Bobby?" Sam whispered, a world of hurt in his voice and eyes.
Before his surrogate father could respond, the engravings in the crypt door started to spin.
Dean sprinted over and tried to turn the Colt back to its original position, succeeding only in pulling the gun free.
The dials stopped turning, lining up perfectly.
"Take cover!" Bobby yelled, and dragged Ellen behind the biggest tombstone he could find, while Sam and Dean sprinted to take cover behind their own grave stones a few yards away.
"Bobby, what the fuck?" Dean demanded as the crypt doors flew open, spewing black smoke into the air.
"It's a Devil's Gate!" Ellen yelled. "A damn door to Hell!"
"We have to close it!" Sam yelled, and vaulted over the tombstone, too quickly for Dean to stop him, stretching his arms out in front of him, palms facing forward. He set his feet, concentrated and pushed…
The doors started to close, as Bobby and Ellen both ran to the tomb and threw all their weight at the doors which closed a little faster, with a metallic groan.
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw a movement, and heard Dean's sudden cry as he was thrown across the cemetery, headfirst into a gravestone.
"DEAN!" Sam started to run to his brother, stopping short when the Yellow-Eyed Demon stepped into his path.
"I'll get to you in a minute, champ," the Demon smirked and flicked a wrist at Sam, who staggered back a small step.
"What's the matter?" Sam taunted. "Having a little trouble performing?"
The Demon smirked. "I can perform well enough to hold you still, and kill your brother."
The Colt flew from Dean's hand to the Demon's and the creature took aim…
A figure Sam saw as often in his nightmares as in his dreams took shape behind Yellow-eyes and wrapped his arms around it, pulling the thick, black smoke that was the Demon's true form, free.
For a long moment, John Winchester grappled with the Demon. It looked like he finally had the upper hand, but where would they go from there?
Sam had a flash of intuition — John was going to pull the Demon back to hell. And condemn himself back to the pit.
Over my dead body.
Again.
"Dad!" Sam yelled as demon smoke whipped passed him and ghosts and spirits shot by in the rising howl of the Gate. John met his gaze. "Let him go!"
John's eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with disgust.
"Dean said you wanted us to be a family again," Sam challenged, raising his voice over the infernal wind that screamed around them. "If that was ever true…Trust your Son!"
For a moment, the Winchesters were all still, then John nodded and opened his arms.
The smoke made a beeline toward the gate out of the cemetery.
Sam flung out a shaky arm, made a tight fist and slowly pulled his arm back, dragging the demon back to its meat suit, unmindful of the blood pouring out of his nose.
"I got him, Dean," Sam promised, even as the meat suit stumbled to its feet.
It opened its mouth to flee its body, only to suddenly jerk, eyes wide as the Colt's bullet hit him between the eyes. Bright light lit the creature from within as the body jerked, once, twice, three times — then fell to the ground and lay still.
Sam spun back to face Bobby and Ellen, threw his hands forward again, lending his dwindling power to their efforts and the Devil's Gate swung closed with a clang and the face plates spun, locking it all up again.
Sam stumbled forward, barely keeping to his feet as he looked across the cemetery, watching as his father laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. For a moment, John's eyes met his youngest son's and a familiar voice echoed in Sam's head.
Tell Dean I'm proud of you. Both of you, Sammy. You be good, now.
Sam nodded and watched as their father faded and raced into the clouds. He smiled at his brother as his knees gave way.
Dean's yelled Sam! was the last thing he heard for quite a while.
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Singer Salvage
Sioux Falls, SD
May 5, 2007
12:18 pm
"Son of a…FUCK!"
Dean walked slowly towards the isolated corner of the junkyard where Sammy liked to practice his powers in private.
"Sam?" he called out before rounding the corner to the cleared out square between piles of cars that his brother had created when they'd first arrived from Asheville. (He'd learned, very much the hard way, that it was never a good idea to sneak up on his brother when Sammy was practicing his telekinesis. Sammy might be perfectly able and willing to fix a broken arm, but that didn't stop it from hurting like a bitch before he did.)
He needn't have worried. When he came upon his brother, Sammy was sitting on the ground with his back against a pile of rusted out hulks, idly pulling tufts of grass out with his hand and swearing softly.
"Heya, Sammy," he said quietly as he settled himself to sit next to his kid.
"Dean."
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
Dean nodded. "Good, good." He waited another few seconds to see if Sammy would correct the lie. "So," he finally said, "what'd the grass do that pissed you off so bad? Little too green, maybe? Stained your favorite sneakers?"
Sam huffed what could have been a laugh, but probably wasn't, and stopped pulling the grass out. "It's.. I just…Aw, fuck," he finished and leaned his head back against the stack of cars behind him.
"Oh, okay," Dean nodded. "That clears everything up, nicely, thank you."
"Dean…" Sam whined.
"Look, dude, you've been sulking around since we got back from Wyoming. I mean, yeah, the gate getting opened sucked, all right? But we killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon, man! That's a win, Sammy, one that's been all our lives coming. Dad's probably out of hell, the Big Bad is ganked, and you're acting like somebody drowned a bag of kittens. What gives?"
"I can't do anything," Sam sighed.
"Yeah, well, waiting blows, I get it. I'd much rather be out hunting all the demons that escaped, too, but until we get a lead…"
"No!" Sam interrupted. "I can't do anything, Dean!"
Dean frowned and Sam jumped to his feet.
"Look!" He threw his arm forward, toward the pile of cars opposite them, set his feet, concentrated….
And nothing happened. Not only didn't the pile of cars float (one of Sam's favorite telekinetic workout tricks), it didn't even shift.
"Oh," Dean said and watched his brother plop back down next to him. The kid's shoulders sagged, and he stared at the ground, the very picture of teenage dejection. It would've made Dean smile, if he didn't think Sammy would hit him for it. "Well, that's…I mean…so you burned yourself out again," Dean shrugged. "That's not a big deal."
"Yeah, but last time, it was…it was just the healing, man," Sam said softly. "This is, this everything. Everything, Dean! The telekinesis, the healing, the, the—" he sighed and rolled his eyes, "the Force. Dean, I can't even start a fire, and that was the first spell I ever mastered!"
"Sammy…"
"No, Dean, look!" he demanded, and pointed at a little pile of dead twigs and grass he'd collected before his brother had arrived. "Ignis intus in vitam erumpens, tuam conde flammam," he intoned the familiar words, and waited. "See? Nothing! No flame, no spark, not the smallest bit of smoke! It's gone, Dean!"
"Well, that's… Okay," Dean said, and put an arm over Sammy's shoulder, pulling him close again. "So, you don't have your powers. Like you said, Sammy, you ain't helpless without 'em. You're the second-best hunter on the planet, Sam," he continued, ignoring the predictable scoff and rolled eyes. "I mean, obviously, I'm the best," he grinned and thought score! when Sammy laughed, "but after me…Dude, there's nobody I'd rather have at my back, powers or no. Hasn't been for years. Not Bobby, not even Dad. Just you. You 'n' me. That's all I've ever needed on a hunt, Sammy, my geek boy sidekick. And your freaky-deaky shit never had anything to do with it."
"Freaky-deaky?"
Dean shrugged. "I mean, is it good to have? Sure! But it's like a grenade launcher, you know? Not much you can't take out with a good grenade launcher, and they're wicked cool! But not necessary to get the job done, know what I mean?"
Sammy huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "A grenade launcher. Dude…"
"I mean, okay, maybe overkill, and they're a little hard to hide in a coat, but… Someday, Sammy," Dean predicted. "Someday. But!" he continued. "You get what I'm saying."
"Yeah," Sam nodded. "But…the Yellow-Eyed Demon, man. We got him. Finally. And…my powers had something to do with that."
"Had a lot to do with it," Dean agreed. "But Sammy…Dad crawled the fuck out of Hell to help us out. I mean, I don't know what would've happened, if you hadn't put him back in his meat suit, hadn't held him there, but…man, I gotta believe we'd've gotten him anyway. Did you make it fuck tons easier? Hell, yes! But we'd've gotten him. If not at the cemetery, then some other place, some other time."
Sam scoffed. "Right. You mean, the way Dad got him, for 24 years?"
"Dad ain't us."
Sam turned to face his brother, his shock obvious. "Dean…"
"No, I mean it, man. John Winchester was the best damn hunter in the world. No denying. Strategy, weapons, focus, research, he could do it all. But he couldn't work as a team. When it came down to it, he never really trusted anybody. Not Bobby, not Pastor Jim, not even me. Not really. I mean, to have his back, sure. To give real, solid input? To listen to other opinions? To let somebody else take the lead, really follow somebody else? Hell, he even double checked Bobby's research, half the time, much less yours or mine! Really believing in somebody else, anybody else?" He shook his head. "Wasn't capable of it, not really, not deep down. And that, that was his weakness. Man, think about it, Sammy," Dean challenged. "If he'd really believed in us — his own kids! If he hadn't been so fucking focused on, on all the evil shit in the world, so ready to believe that even his own son was evil, instead of seeing the way you really are, the way you've always been — so fucking smart. So, so brave, and, and just…good. Man, if he'd seen you, when you were ten? You could've told us about what happened in Erie, and maybe? Maybe he'd've figured out then it was the same thing that killed Mom, and you…and, and we…If he'd listened, Sammy, can you imagine it? We could've maybe ended this shit fourteen years ago.
"And he'd still be here."
"Yeah," Sam breathed. "Maybe."
"But even if it hadn't happened that way, even if everything still led us to Dad…to Wyoming, and the bastard got away? We'd get him, Sammy," Dean nodded. "We would. You and me. Cause even if we were still two and three, 'stead of one and two? That's still better than just one alone. You and me, Sammy? There ain't nothing we couldn't take on. I believe that."
Sam shook his head. "Do you?"
"I do, yeah."
"Then why don't you believe we can get you out of your deal?" Sammy challenged.
"That's different."
"How."
Dean smiled, sadly. "Because only one of us walks out of it alive, Sammy. And it's gonna be you."
"Because you say so."
"That's right."
"I thought you believed in us."
"I do, Sammy," Dean vowed. "But…this is just the way it's gotta be."
"No," Sam pulled away, shifted onto his knees, facing his brother. "No, I'm gonna save you."
"No, Sam, you're not. Look, if you mess with the deal, try to welch out of it in any way, deal's off and you die. Again. So. No."
"If I'm dead, at least I got a shot at Heaven."
"You're still dead," Dean responded, flatly. "So, no."
"So, I'm just supposed to let you go to Hell?" Sam's voice caught.
"That's the idea."
"Well, the idea sucks, Dean!" Sam yelled and scrambled to his feet.
Dean sighed and stood slowly to face him. "Sam…"
"No, Dean. No. You lasted two fucking days with me dead! How do expect me to last the rest of my fucking life when you're in HELL?!"
Dean put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, held on and slipped it around to the back of his brother's neck when Sammy tried to shake him off. "You're stronger than me, Sammy," he admitted. "You always have been," he continued, ignoring the way Sam shook his head. "I mean, the shit Dad did to you, alone! Crap would've broken me, Sam. Not just the beatings, the things he used to say to you? He'd've broke me, man," he admitted quietly, his voice cracking. "But not you. Not my baby brother. He never broke you, Sammy. Never. I don't know how you did that."
"You don't…For fuck's sake, Dean!" Sam looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "How stupid are you?!"
"Wha…"
"It was because of you, dumbass!" Sam yelled. "I didn't break because I had you."
Dean stared as his strong, unbreakable baby brother broke before his eyes.
"And you're taking it away from me, man," Sam sobbed. "The only thing…what the fuck do I have without you?"
"You…you got…" Dean floundered for half a second. "Bobby! You got Bobby. And, and Rick. And Ellen and Jo and Ash. You got California, Sammy. You got Stanford. Go back, man, just like we talked about! You go back, and you finish senior year, and you get that law degree and, and you get out of this, get out of Hunting and you…"
Sam stepped back, breaking contact. "I don't want it," he said quietly. "Without you? That was the point, Dean. We were going to get out. TOGETHER. I don't want…" he looked at the ground, running his hands nervously over his jeans before looking up into his big brother's tear filled eyes. "I don't want anything without you, Dean. If you're dead, I might as well just…"
There was no way to know who was more shocked by the slap, Dean who gave it, or Sam who took it.
But then Dean was pulling Sammy into his arms, cradling his little brother close, one hand tangled in Sammy's hair, the other clutching at his coat as Sam held on tight, a mirror to his brother's hold, and buried himself into Dean's neck. And it didn't matter anyway.
"Don't you say that, Sammy. Don't you ever say that. Don't do it. Don't you do that. You can't…" Dean shifted using both hands to pull Sammy's hand up and stare into the broken, tri-colored eyes. "You gotta promise me, Sammy. You can't do that. You gotta give me that, man. You got to."
In that broken moment, Sam couldn't have denied Dean a thing. "I won't," he promised. "I won't, I swear."
Dean nodded and pulled Sam down again. "Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you. I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm so fucking sorry."
This time Sam pulled away, cradling Dean's face in his huge Sasquatch hands. "No, you're not," he half-laughed. "You're not sorry at all, you selfish bastard, and I hate you for it."
"I know," Dean nodded and put his hands over Sammy's. "I know you do."
"If you…if you die," Sammy nodded, "I'll live without you, Dean. I don't know how. But I will. But, I gotta try, Dean. I have to try to save you. If you…If I gotta keep going, I…I gotta try. If you want me to keep…If you want…I gotta try, man. I have to know I tried. I got to."
"Okay, okay," Dean nodded. "I get it. I get it. But you gotta promise me, man. If you…if you can find someway, without breaking the Deal, without triggering the failsafe. I'm all for that, man. BELIEVE me. But if it's you or me, if it comes to you," he said and thumped a fist over Sammy's pounding heart, "or me. You gotta stand down, man. You gotta swear to me, Sammy. You can't die on me. You gotta swear."
One huge hand engulfed his fist and Sam nodded. "Okay," he breathed, and leaned his forehead against his brother's. "Okay."
There was no way to know how long they stood that way, leaning against each other, breathing each other's breaths while they still could.
Slowly, slowly, their tears stopped and they pulled away, drying their eyes and not looking at each other.
"Man, we are so fucked up," Sam laughed. "I bet Rick would 'bout throw a party if one of his brothers…"
"Maybe," Dean nodded. "They all sure fight enough."
"It's why he stayed in Cali," Sam laughed, "to get a little space from his older assholes. I don't think we're normal, Dean," he admitted.
"No," Dean agreed, "I'm sure we're not."
"I blame Dad," Sam decided and Dean laughed with him.
"Yeah. I mean, it's not like we had a choice, is it?" Dean took a steadying breath and looked at his little brother — his fucking life — again. "It was just us. Always just us."
Sam nodded. "Couldn't count on the old man. I could only ever count on you."
"You still can."
"I know. For a year," Sam groused. "And so can you."
"I know." Dean took a deep breath. "A lot of demons got out of that damn gate, Sammy."
"They did," Sam nodded. "And one way or another, that's on us."
Dean nodded. "I know it. But we'll get 'em. All of them black eyed bastards, Sammy. We'll get 'em."
"One and two," Sam grinned.
"Damn straight."
Sam nodded. "Okay. Let's go see what Bobby and Ash've got," and started walking back down the twisted junkyard paths.
Dean grinned and caught up, throwing an arm over Sammy's broad shoulders. "And in the meantime, if they don't have anything yet, let's go to Reno."
"Reno?"
"You'd rather Vegas?"
"Dean…"
"Look," Dean stopped him and turned Sam to face him. "I know what I did to you was shitty. Hypocritical, fuckin' mean, anyway you want to spin it. But the truth…truth is, Sammy, after everything we been through, our whole fuckin' lives. I'm tired, dude. And now? Feels like there's a light at the end of this tunnel."
"It's hellfire, Dean."
"Whatever. You're alive, I feel good, for the first time in a long time, man. I got a year to live, Sammy. I'd like to make the most of it, so what do you say, we kill some evils sons of bitches and raise a little hell?" he grinned and started up the path, leaving Sam staring after him.
"You're unbelievable."
Dean paused, and turned around, walking backwards and grinning. "Very true," he grinned and started laughing as he continued toward the house, Sam trailing behind.
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A/N So, yeah. Another thing I always had an issue with was, the Yellow-Eyed Demon escaped John's grasp and went right back to its meat suit. I mean, he knew the Winchester's had the Colt, knew it still had bullets left. What did he have to gain by going back to the meat suit and not just hightailing out of there with the rest of the demons that came out of the gate? He had to have known that Sammy wasn't going to agree to lead his army, especially not with Bobby and Dean right there. The logical thing to do would've been to run, so that's what I had him do.
The spell Sam uses to try to start a fire is, as always, Latin translated by Air Apps Translate Now, the original English was Fire within, burst to life, create your flame.
