SUPERWHO - PART FIVE.
Part Five
Sam’s beer sat on the table, in front of him, untouched. Condensation had ran tracks down the frosty mist that had covered the bottle when Dean had initially put it down for him. Sam had mumbled a quiet “Thanks,” but hadn’t spoken apart from that. Not since The Doctor had left to take him...younger him, back home. He was sat on the worn couch, feet together, knees apart, face resting in his hands. Miserable. He was reliving it, from his own perspective - what he’d done after watching the TARDIS disappear into oblivion.
He remembered standing there, in a cold, stunned, painful silence for the first few minutes - hoping that perhaps, just maybe, he would come back. Even if it had been years for The Doctor, he could come back, mapping his arrival for just seconds after leaving Sam, and they could pick up where they left off. Maybe Sam would eventually stop being so awkward about how he felt, and...
But he didn’t come back. Sam stood there, alone, the Californian sunshine doing nothing to ease his chill - the cold seemed to reach his bones. As that realisation sunk in - that The Doctor was never coming back for him - sank in, he’d turned on his heels and vomited behind a bush.
Shaking, he’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Swallowed back the tears. Refused to cry - he wouldn’t do it. Not there. Not then. That would come later. Instead, he’d taken a few deep breaths, to calm himself. He’d straightened his shoulders, and gone to find somewhere to stay. He couldn’t go back to his Dad, didn’t want to hear the I told you so he knew he was owed. Couldn’t handle that.
A couple of weeks later, Dean had found him - or rather, Sam had found Dean, skulking around his dark apartment in the middle of the night. Dad was missing. And so it began. Two brothers, on the road, and only in the most silent, darkest of nights, long after Dean had drank himself to sleep did Sam allow himself to think about the Doctor. He’s been doing so well - with everything happening with the end of the world, Jo and Ellen dying...he hadn’t thought about The Doctor for a few weeks. A fortnight. Well. A week. Almost. But he was doing better than he had been, until that fez-topped, grinning, happy-go-lucky face had appeared at the door, reminding Sam of all the pain, all the anguish, and worst of all, the bitter sting of rejection.
*
Dean had stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded, his shoulder supporting his weight against the wooden frame. His brows were furrowed, and he had been watching Sam. Not even necessarily waiting for anything, but for...anything. Eventually, when it became clear his brother wasn’t moving, Dean shook his head, and moved back into the kitchen, pushing the door behind him. His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Bobby’s voice sounded from over near the refrigerator.
“Give him time, Dean. Kid’s just come face to face with someone from his past he didn’t think he was ever gonna see again. You gotta understand how that goes.”
“That’s why I try and never visit the same bar in the same town on different visits...” Dean replied, but the humour failed to penetrate the atmosphere of the room. He sighed, heavily, and rounded on Castiel. “This plan to take down Lucifer...you think we got a snowball’s chance?”
Castiel tilted his head, regarding Dean with his serious eyes. “This plan to trap Lucifer is insane. You would be crazy, not to mention suicidal, to even attempt it.”
“Let me rephrase.” Dean said. “Is it even possible? To lock him in another dimension?”
There was a tense silence.
“Theoretically, yes.” Castiel admitted, finally, voice tense, posture stiff. “Although interfering with something as vast as-”
“If it’s possible, that’s all I gotta hear to give it a pop.” Dean interrupted. “I mean, we got nothing to lose now, right?”
Bobby tried to exchange glances with Catiel, but the gesture was lost on the angel. In truth, they might not have had much left to lose, but there was still a little. The remaining family. all four of them. He didn’t get a chance to answer, though - the unearthly call of the blue police call box was sounding from his yard. He rolled over towards the window, and looked out just as The Doctor opened the ship door, stepping out into the grey sun of South Dakota.
“Oh, great.” he said, sarcastically. “He’s wearing the fez again.”
*
Sat on the threadbare couch, beer untouched, Sam didn’t expect the Doctor to come back again.
When he heard the TARDIS echoing as she came in to land with the parking brake still on, he assumed he was imagining it, at first. He had done enough times, over the past five years. Only when the Doctor walked into the room, clapped his hands, fez back on his head, beaming widely and saying “Alright! Time to save the world...again! Very important question, first, though...” he paused for dramatic effect. “Do you have any Jammie Dodgers?”
Sam frowned, confused. “Uh, no, we...wait. What’s a-?”
“Never mind!” The Doctor interrupted, and his excited manner made Sam think dramatic music should have been playing in the background. “Well, get up, then!! What’s this you’re drinking?” he picked up the untouched bottle, and sniffed the contents, pulling a face of disgust.
“Beer? At a time like this? You need your wits about you, Sammy boy! We’re going to fight...the devil!”
The exciting effect was slightly damaged by Dean giving a slow clap from the door frame, having returned when he’d heard the voices.
“Very good, Doctor.” he said. “But we’re still no closer to knowing how we can get this done.”
The Doctor stared at Dean, and then shifted his stare to Sam. “You mean...you didn’t tell him?”
Dean’s heart sank at the guilty expression on Sam’s face. He should have known there was something - his brother and the alien had spent days in the TARDIS together, and Dean should have known they’d come up with something. Something that, from the way Sam was avoiding his questioning glare, he wasn’t going to like.
“Sam?”
Sam sighed, and rubbed his arm, awkwardly. “...to force Lucifer into the time vortex...” he started, looking to the Doctor for help. The Doctor gave him none, so he was forced to continue, Dean’s cold, stony glare making him wish he could crawl away and hide. The Doctor and Sam had a plan - one they’d constructed inside the TARDIS - the only place on Earth that Lucifer definitely could not eavesdrop on them.
“Go on?” Dean prompted.
“...he’s not just gonna jump in because we ask him to, Dean. Someone...has gotta make him do it.”
The words hung in the air, unpleasant and unwanted. Dean’s stare was horrified, hurt, and incredulous.
“And you think this is gonna work?” he demanded. “You’re going to say yes?”
Sam didn’t get a chance to answer. He opened his mouth, but Dean’s rant continued. “No. No way. Not a chance, you hear me? NO.”
He rounded on the Doctor, who was, rather wisely, staying silent.
“And you’re okay with this? Well, of course you are. You don’t care about him - you broke his heart.”
A wave of confusion passed over the Doctor’s face. He looked to Sam, for an explanation. When Sam said nothing, his eyes on the ground, The Doctor seemed to understand. “Sammy, I-” but Dean cut him off.
“There has to be another way.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Well then. I don’t care what the hell it is, but you do it. My brother is not sacrificing himself for this cause. No way.” He glared around the room, challenging anyone to argue. After a few seconds, the Doctor cleared his throat.
“Actually, there is another way. A Delta Wave. Sam wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself. It would kill Lucifer. Kill Michael.”
“Then why are we even considering the alternative?” Dean asked, exasperated, throwing his hands into the air. Sam gave a slow, rueful smile.
“Because this time, I get to be Bruce Willis.”
“...what?”
“Harry Stamper.” Sam replied, quietly. “A Delta Wave...would destroy everything. All life, all after-life...pretty much anything that moves. Gone. It wouldn’t distinguish between human, angel or demon. We all die. So it’s me...or everyone.”
“Well shit.” Dean groaned. “They mean it literally when they call it Armageddon.”
Silence.
“I still say no.”
*
Dean had spent the past week sulking, refusing to even entertain the idea of Sam saying yes to Lucifer. The way he saw it was if Sam had to go down, the rest of the world went with him. There was no way he was going to let his brother do that; he wouldn’t be braving that particular blow. Dean was all for the idea of going down swinging, but...that was him. Not Sam.
They’d argued about it all week, bottles had been smashed, a punch or two had been thrown. The past two days had consisted of a frosty silence, Dean drinking more than usual, Sam spending his time reading. Making small-talk with the Doctor.
Dean saw the way they whispered together, and it hurt. Sam had been feeling less and less like the kid brother he knew lately. He didn’t know when the change happened - maybe when Dad died, when Dean went to Hell, when he came back...or maybe Sam had always been this guy, and was a better actor than Dean gave him credit for.
Still. He watched Sam out of the window, talking to the Doctor by the TARDIS. The Doctor said something, Sam nodded, the Doctor went back into the TARDIS. Sam instantly dropped his facade - shoulders drooping, forced smile fading. He looked smaller than usual, and lonely. Pained.
“Oh, for the love of--” Dean sighed, pushing himself up from his chair. Sammy had grew up, whether Dean liked it or not. He walked out to the yard.
Sam heard Dean’s approach, turned to face him, eye still a little bruised from where Dean’s left hook had landed a few days previous.
Neither brother spoke for a moment, just meeting the gaze of the other.
“...I’m in.” Dean said, after breaking eye contact, hands in his pockets. Sam just raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like it, but I’m in. If that’s what you wanna do...fine. You can go all We Win Gracie on the devil, and everybody else lives.”
Sam didn’t reply. He stepped towards Dean, and lifted his arms a little, almost as if he was going to hug his brother, but thought the better of it, and stood down. He nodded, throat tight.
He wouldn’t admit it, but Dean knew anyway.
Sam was afraid. He would go through with this; of course he would - the stakes were too high not to. But fear coursed through him every time he thought about the road that lay ahead. He was going to fall, unprotected, through the heart of the Time Vortex itself. Lucifer would survive that. Sam didn’t know if he, personally, would. Perhaps it would be better not to - because at the end of his fall awaited an empty Universe, one with such a bloody history, it had burned itself out, died a long time ago. It would be empty. Just him and Lucifer, for all eternity. Existing together, but only together, only them. Because how else could you exist in an empty dimension?
“...c’mon.” Dean said, voice low, tight. “We gotta, uh, plan this out properly. We get one shot. No screw-ups, no do-over. We do this, we do it smart.”
“Yeah.” Sam replied, voice just as hoarse. “...yeah.”
Dean didn’t know what else to say. He nodded, stiffly, and turned, shoulders squared, and marched back into the house. Sam watched him go, before going to get the Doctor. Things were about to get complicated. Time to start taking notes.
*
Dean’s time with his little brother was limited. He knew that. If Dean had his way, they’d be drinking beer, eating junk food, watching a movie...just spending time together. While they still could. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans, striding out into the yard. He was unsure about whether or not Sam would be strong enough to throw off Lucifer’s control. He wanted to ask how they were going to get around it. He wanted to say...goodbye. He was distracted, however, by a pulsing white light coming from the open doors of the TARDIS.
“SAM!” he yelled, running forwards.
Inside the blue box was huge. A lot bigger than Dean had thought. He stopped dead, stared around for a second, but then ran at Sam.
“Dean, wait!” The Doctor protested. “Don’t interrupt it.”
It was Sam, orange light feeding into his eyes, from the centre of the TARDIS, where there was some weird kind of...control panel.
“What are you doing to him?!” Dean demanded, still trying to get to Sam.
“It’s the heart of the TARDIS. The time vortex.” The Doctor explained. “In a very diluted form. Undiluted, it would kill him. I’ve seen it before. But this...it’s charging Sam up. Getting him ready.”
“And you didn’t think to ask me about this?” Dean asked, outraged, then adding a “SAMMY!” as Sam fell free from the orange beam, to his knees, head bowed. Dean rushed over, grabbing Sam’s shoulder, and shaking it. “Sammy? SAM! C’mon, man. Talk to me.”
Sam slowly raised his head to look at Dean, and Dean recoiled in shock. Sam’s eyes weren’t black, like he’d just downed gallons of demon blood. They weren’t yellow, or red. They were glowing a fire-hued orange. Sparkling, almost, with flecks of gold. The light stayed, until Sam blinked, and it slowly faded. His eyes remained brighter than they’d been, though.
He took a deep gasp of air, as if he hadn’t been breathing the entire time, tightly gripped Dean’s arm almost as if for support, like the ground was moving.
“Dean.” he forced out, lungs aching.
“It’s okay, Sammy. I got you.” Dean assured him. “C’mon...can you stand? No, don’t stand. Stay still.”
He threw a dirty glare over his shoulder to the Doctor, who was looking uncomfortable.
“It was perfectly safe! I rigged it!” the Doctor muttered, scuffing his foot against the floor.
“Yeah, he looks perfectly fine.” Dean replied, snappy and sarcastic.
“I am fine, Dean.” Sam declared, standing up, suddenly. “Never felt better.”
He looked it. His posture was straight, shoulders squared...even his hair looked great. His skin had a glow to it. He looked...ready to take on the devil.
“Let’s do this.”
Sam was about to stride out of the TARDIS.
“Sam...” Dean called after him. Sam turned, saw his brother standing there, looking small compared to him, looking...grey. Haggard. Miserable. Scared. “I..”
All of Dean’s words stuck. He didn’t know where to start. An apology? Sharing his love?
Sam saved him the trouble.
“I know, Dean.” he said, voice soft. Dean’s face relaxed. Sam gave him a brief smile, before turning to the Doctor.
“Take the shields down. Let the sonofabitch know where we are. Let him in. I’m ready.”
The Doctor stood perfectly still for a moment, before leaping to his control console, flipping switched, turning dials, typing on a touch-screen keyboard. The lights flashed, the TARDIS rocked and there was a sound like earth shifting; like an earthquake.
“COME ON.” Sam yelled, arms in the air. “I’M RIGHT HERE. YOU WANTED ME? COME AND TAKE ME.”
Dean thought the ground was going to split below them, that they were going to die before it even started, when suddenly; silence fell. The shaking stopped. All the lights went out. His eyes were wide, trying to see, looking around to no avail.
He was about to call out, when there was a bone-chilling laugh.
The emergency low-level lighting came on.
And there he was. Lucifer. Rotting. Horrible. And stood, turning their triangle positioning into a square.
“You’ve done an awful lot of running, Sam.” he said, voice slick, smug, knowing. “Finally too tired to continue?”
“You bet.” Sam replied, eyes fierce.
Lucifer tutted, shaking his head, folding his arms. “You’re lying. Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Dean and the Doctor exchanged glances. This wasn’t the plan. Sam, however, shrugged.
“So we’ve lost the element of surprise.” he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to win.”
Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Eventually, he stopped, rubbing his stomach, still chuckling.
“Yes, yes, we’ll see. I’m much older than your Timelord friend. Anyway.I believe you lifted your shields for a reason?”
Sam smirked. “Yes.”
“...yes?”
“Yes.”
“...as in...yes?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “What’re you, deaf as well as stupid? Yes. No more running. I say...yes.”
This time, it was Lucifer’s turn to smirk. Terrified something was going to go wrong, not feeling right at all, Dean watched as a burning white light filled the ship - he had to shield his eyes. A piercing wail echoed in his ears, they were going to burst, his brain was going to bleed, he--
It stopped. And Sam was stood there, breathing hard. Dean turned to the Doctor.
“Open the...time thing!” he exclaimed. “Move this ship, I’ll get the door-” the plan was for Sam to jump out, half way through the movement.
“Quick!” Sam groaned, muscles tensing. The Doctor was just starting the TARDIS, they began to move, when Sam began to laugh. It hit Dean like a bunch to the gut.
“Diluted the vortex a little too much, Doc.” he grinned. Or rather, Lucifer grinned. “Your past with Miss Tyler made you a little...over-cautious.”
“Who the hell is Miss Tyler?!” Dean asked. “Get out of my brother, you sonofabitch, or I swear, I’ll-”
“Nuh-huh, Dean.” Lucifer shook a finger at Dean, disapprovingly. “Fair’s fair. Sam said yes. He’s mine now.”
The TARDIS was still moving. Dean glanced to the door, wondering if he could push Lucifer out...
“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Lucifer-Sam warned, and raised a hand. “Ta-ta.”
And he was gone. Lucifer, and Sam, were gone. The TARDIS was leaving Bobby’s, and Dean was screaming, not that he could hear it. Screaming. That was the last thing he remembered before the black-out.
PART SIX
Sam’s beer sat on the table, in front of him, untouched. Condensation had ran tracks down the frosty mist that had covered the bottle when Dean had initially put it down for him. Sam had mumbled a quiet “Thanks,” but hadn’t spoken apart from that. Not since The Doctor had left to take him...younger him, back home. He was sat on the worn couch, feet together, knees apart, face resting in his hands. Miserable. He was reliving it, from his own perspective - what he’d done after watching the TARDIS disappear into oblivion.
He remembered standing there, in a cold, stunned, painful silence for the first few minutes - hoping that perhaps, just maybe, he would come back. Even if it had been years for The Doctor, he could come back, mapping his arrival for just seconds after leaving Sam, and they could pick up where they left off. Maybe Sam would eventually stop being so awkward about how he felt, and...
But he didn’t come back. Sam stood there, alone, the Californian sunshine doing nothing to ease his chill - the cold seemed to reach his bones. As that realisation sunk in - that The Doctor was never coming back for him - sank in, he’d turned on his heels and vomited behind a bush.
Shaking, he’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Swallowed back the tears. Refused to cry - he wouldn’t do it. Not there. Not then. That would come later. Instead, he’d taken a few deep breaths, to calm himself. He’d straightened his shoulders, and gone to find somewhere to stay. He couldn’t go back to his Dad, didn’t want to hear the I told you so he knew he was owed. Couldn’t handle that.
A couple of weeks later, Dean had found him - or rather, Sam had found Dean, skulking around his dark apartment in the middle of the night. Dad was missing. And so it began. Two brothers, on the road, and only in the most silent, darkest of nights, long after Dean had drank himself to sleep did Sam allow himself to think about the Doctor. He’s been doing so well - with everything happening with the end of the world, Jo and Ellen dying...he hadn’t thought about The Doctor for a few weeks. A fortnight. Well. A week. Almost. But he was doing better than he had been, until that fez-topped, grinning, happy-go-lucky face had appeared at the door, reminding Sam of all the pain, all the anguish, and worst of all, the bitter sting of rejection.
*
Dean had stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded, his shoulder supporting his weight against the wooden frame. His brows were furrowed, and he had been watching Sam. Not even necessarily waiting for anything, but for...anything. Eventually, when it became clear his brother wasn’t moving, Dean shook his head, and moved back into the kitchen, pushing the door behind him. His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Bobby’s voice sounded from over near the refrigerator.
“Give him time, Dean. Kid’s just come face to face with someone from his past he didn’t think he was ever gonna see again. You gotta understand how that goes.”
“That’s why I try and never visit the same bar in the same town on different visits...” Dean replied, but the humour failed to penetrate the atmosphere of the room. He sighed, heavily, and rounded on Castiel. “This plan to take down Lucifer...you think we got a snowball’s chance?”
Castiel tilted his head, regarding Dean with his serious eyes. “This plan to trap Lucifer is insane. You would be crazy, not to mention suicidal, to even attempt it.”
“Let me rephrase.” Dean said. “Is it even possible? To lock him in another dimension?”
There was a tense silence.
“Theoretically, yes.” Castiel admitted, finally, voice tense, posture stiff. “Although interfering with something as vast as-”
“If it’s possible, that’s all I gotta hear to give it a pop.” Dean interrupted. “I mean, we got nothing to lose now, right?”
Bobby tried to exchange glances with Catiel, but the gesture was lost on the angel. In truth, they might not have had much left to lose, but there was still a little. The remaining family. all four of them. He didn’t get a chance to answer, though - the unearthly call of the blue police call box was sounding from his yard. He rolled over towards the window, and looked out just as The Doctor opened the ship door, stepping out into the grey sun of South Dakota.
“Oh, great.” he said, sarcastically. “He’s wearing the fez again.”
*
Sat on the threadbare couch, beer untouched, Sam didn’t expect the Doctor to come back again.
When he heard the TARDIS echoing as she came in to land with the parking brake still on, he assumed he was imagining it, at first. He had done enough times, over the past five years. Only when the Doctor walked into the room, clapped his hands, fez back on his head, beaming widely and saying “Alright! Time to save the world...again! Very important question, first, though...” he paused for dramatic effect. “Do you have any Jammie Dodgers?”
Sam frowned, confused. “Uh, no, we...wait. What’s a-?”
“Never mind!” The Doctor interrupted, and his excited manner made Sam think dramatic music should have been playing in the background. “Well, get up, then!! What’s this you’re drinking?” he picked up the untouched bottle, and sniffed the contents, pulling a face of disgust.
“Beer? At a time like this? You need your wits about you, Sammy boy! We’re going to fight...the devil!”
The exciting effect was slightly damaged by Dean giving a slow clap from the door frame, having returned when he’d heard the voices.
“Very good, Doctor.” he said. “But we’re still no closer to knowing how we can get this done.”
The Doctor stared at Dean, and then shifted his stare to Sam. “You mean...you didn’t tell him?”
Dean’s heart sank at the guilty expression on Sam’s face. He should have known there was something - his brother and the alien had spent days in the TARDIS together, and Dean should have known they’d come up with something. Something that, from the way Sam was avoiding his questioning glare, he wasn’t going to like.
“Sam?”
Sam sighed, and rubbed his arm, awkwardly. “...to force Lucifer into the time vortex...” he started, looking to the Doctor for help. The Doctor gave him none, so he was forced to continue, Dean’s cold, stony glare making him wish he could crawl away and hide. The Doctor and Sam had a plan - one they’d constructed inside the TARDIS - the only place on Earth that Lucifer definitely could not eavesdrop on them.
“Go on?” Dean prompted.
“...he’s not just gonna jump in because we ask him to, Dean. Someone...has gotta make him do it.”
The words hung in the air, unpleasant and unwanted. Dean’s stare was horrified, hurt, and incredulous.
“And you think this is gonna work?” he demanded. “You’re going to say yes?”
Sam didn’t get a chance to answer. He opened his mouth, but Dean’s rant continued. “No. No way. Not a chance, you hear me? NO.”
He rounded on the Doctor, who was, rather wisely, staying silent.
“And you’re okay with this? Well, of course you are. You don’t care about him - you broke his heart.”
A wave of confusion passed over the Doctor’s face. He looked to Sam, for an explanation. When Sam said nothing, his eyes on the ground, The Doctor seemed to understand. “Sammy, I-” but Dean cut him off.
“There has to be another way.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Well then. I don’t care what the hell it is, but you do it. My brother is not sacrificing himself for this cause. No way.” He glared around the room, challenging anyone to argue. After a few seconds, the Doctor cleared his throat.
“Actually, there is another way. A Delta Wave. Sam wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself. It would kill Lucifer. Kill Michael.”
“Then why are we even considering the alternative?” Dean asked, exasperated, throwing his hands into the air. Sam gave a slow, rueful smile.
“Because this time, I get to be Bruce Willis.”
“...what?”
“Harry Stamper.” Sam replied, quietly. “A Delta Wave...would destroy everything. All life, all after-life...pretty much anything that moves. Gone. It wouldn’t distinguish between human, angel or demon. We all die. So it’s me...or everyone.”
“Well shit.” Dean groaned. “They mean it literally when they call it Armageddon.”
Silence.
“I still say no.”
*
Dean had spent the past week sulking, refusing to even entertain the idea of Sam saying yes to Lucifer. The way he saw it was if Sam had to go down, the rest of the world went with him. There was no way he was going to let his brother do that; he wouldn’t be braving that particular blow. Dean was all for the idea of going down swinging, but...that was him. Not Sam.
They’d argued about it all week, bottles had been smashed, a punch or two had been thrown. The past two days had consisted of a frosty silence, Dean drinking more than usual, Sam spending his time reading. Making small-talk with the Doctor.
Dean saw the way they whispered together, and it hurt. Sam had been feeling less and less like the kid brother he knew lately. He didn’t know when the change happened - maybe when Dad died, when Dean went to Hell, when he came back...or maybe Sam had always been this guy, and was a better actor than Dean gave him credit for.
Still. He watched Sam out of the window, talking to the Doctor by the TARDIS. The Doctor said something, Sam nodded, the Doctor went back into the TARDIS. Sam instantly dropped his facade - shoulders drooping, forced smile fading. He looked smaller than usual, and lonely. Pained.
“Oh, for the love of--” Dean sighed, pushing himself up from his chair. Sammy had grew up, whether Dean liked it or not. He walked out to the yard.
Sam heard Dean’s approach, turned to face him, eye still a little bruised from where Dean’s left hook had landed a few days previous.
Neither brother spoke for a moment, just meeting the gaze of the other.
“...I’m in.” Dean said, after breaking eye contact, hands in his pockets. Sam just raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like it, but I’m in. If that’s what you wanna do...fine. You can go all We Win Gracie on the devil, and everybody else lives.”
Sam didn’t reply. He stepped towards Dean, and lifted his arms a little, almost as if he was going to hug his brother, but thought the better of it, and stood down. He nodded, throat tight.
He wouldn’t admit it, but Dean knew anyway.
Sam was afraid. He would go through with this; of course he would - the stakes were too high not to. But fear coursed through him every time he thought about the road that lay ahead. He was going to fall, unprotected, through the heart of the Time Vortex itself. Lucifer would survive that. Sam didn’t know if he, personally, would. Perhaps it would be better not to - because at the end of his fall awaited an empty Universe, one with such a bloody history, it had burned itself out, died a long time ago. It would be empty. Just him and Lucifer, for all eternity. Existing together, but only together, only them. Because how else could you exist in an empty dimension?
“...c’mon.” Dean said, voice low, tight. “We gotta, uh, plan this out properly. We get one shot. No screw-ups, no do-over. We do this, we do it smart.”
“Yeah.” Sam replied, voice just as hoarse. “...yeah.”
Dean didn’t know what else to say. He nodded, stiffly, and turned, shoulders squared, and marched back into the house. Sam watched him go, before going to get the Doctor. Things were about to get complicated. Time to start taking notes.
*
Dean’s time with his little brother was limited. He knew that. If Dean had his way, they’d be drinking beer, eating junk food, watching a movie...just spending time together. While they still could. He wiped his clammy palms on his jeans, striding out into the yard. He was unsure about whether or not Sam would be strong enough to throw off Lucifer’s control. He wanted to ask how they were going to get around it. He wanted to say...goodbye. He was distracted, however, by a pulsing white light coming from the open doors of the TARDIS.
“SAM!” he yelled, running forwards.
Inside the blue box was huge. A lot bigger than Dean had thought. He stopped dead, stared around for a second, but then ran at Sam.
“Dean, wait!” The Doctor protested. “Don’t interrupt it.”
It was Sam, orange light feeding into his eyes, from the centre of the TARDIS, where there was some weird kind of...control panel.
“What are you doing to him?!” Dean demanded, still trying to get to Sam.
“It’s the heart of the TARDIS. The time vortex.” The Doctor explained. “In a very diluted form. Undiluted, it would kill him. I’ve seen it before. But this...it’s charging Sam up. Getting him ready.”
“And you didn’t think to ask me about this?” Dean asked, outraged, then adding a “SAMMY!” as Sam fell free from the orange beam, to his knees, head bowed. Dean rushed over, grabbing Sam’s shoulder, and shaking it. “Sammy? SAM! C’mon, man. Talk to me.”
Sam slowly raised his head to look at Dean, and Dean recoiled in shock. Sam’s eyes weren’t black, like he’d just downed gallons of demon blood. They weren’t yellow, or red. They were glowing a fire-hued orange. Sparkling, almost, with flecks of gold. The light stayed, until Sam blinked, and it slowly faded. His eyes remained brighter than they’d been, though.
He took a deep gasp of air, as if he hadn’t been breathing the entire time, tightly gripped Dean’s arm almost as if for support, like the ground was moving.
“Dean.” he forced out, lungs aching.
“It’s okay, Sammy. I got you.” Dean assured him. “C’mon...can you stand? No, don’t stand. Stay still.”
He threw a dirty glare over his shoulder to the Doctor, who was looking uncomfortable.
“It was perfectly safe! I rigged it!” the Doctor muttered, scuffing his foot against the floor.
“Yeah, he looks perfectly fine.” Dean replied, snappy and sarcastic.
“I am fine, Dean.” Sam declared, standing up, suddenly. “Never felt better.”
He looked it. His posture was straight, shoulders squared...even his hair looked great. His skin had a glow to it. He looked...ready to take on the devil.
“Let’s do this.”
Sam was about to stride out of the TARDIS.
“Sam...” Dean called after him. Sam turned, saw his brother standing there, looking small compared to him, looking...grey. Haggard. Miserable. Scared. “I..”
All of Dean’s words stuck. He didn’t know where to start. An apology? Sharing his love?
Sam saved him the trouble.
“I know, Dean.” he said, voice soft. Dean’s face relaxed. Sam gave him a brief smile, before turning to the Doctor.
“Take the shields down. Let the sonofabitch know where we are. Let him in. I’m ready.”
The Doctor stood perfectly still for a moment, before leaping to his control console, flipping switched, turning dials, typing on a touch-screen keyboard. The lights flashed, the TARDIS rocked and there was a sound like earth shifting; like an earthquake.
“COME ON.” Sam yelled, arms in the air. “I’M RIGHT HERE. YOU WANTED ME? COME AND TAKE ME.”
Dean thought the ground was going to split below them, that they were going to die before it even started, when suddenly; silence fell. The shaking stopped. All the lights went out. His eyes were wide, trying to see, looking around to no avail.
He was about to call out, when there was a bone-chilling laugh.
The emergency low-level lighting came on.
And there he was. Lucifer. Rotting. Horrible. And stood, turning their triangle positioning into a square.
“You’ve done an awful lot of running, Sam.” he said, voice slick, smug, knowing. “Finally too tired to continue?”
“You bet.” Sam replied, eyes fierce.
Lucifer tutted, shaking his head, folding his arms. “You’re lying. Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Dean and the Doctor exchanged glances. This wasn’t the plan. Sam, however, shrugged.
“So we’ve lost the element of surprise.” he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still going to win.”
Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Eventually, he stopped, rubbing his stomach, still chuckling.
“Yes, yes, we’ll see. I’m much older than your Timelord friend. Anyway.I believe you lifted your shields for a reason?”
Sam smirked. “Yes.”
“...yes?”
“Yes.”
“...as in...yes?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “What’re you, deaf as well as stupid? Yes. No more running. I say...yes.”
This time, it was Lucifer’s turn to smirk. Terrified something was going to go wrong, not feeling right at all, Dean watched as a burning white light filled the ship - he had to shield his eyes. A piercing wail echoed in his ears, they were going to burst, his brain was going to bleed, he--
It stopped. And Sam was stood there, breathing hard. Dean turned to the Doctor.
“Open the...time thing!” he exclaimed. “Move this ship, I’ll get the door-” the plan was for Sam to jump out, half way through the movement.
“Quick!” Sam groaned, muscles tensing. The Doctor was just starting the TARDIS, they began to move, when Sam began to laugh. It hit Dean like a bunch to the gut.
“Diluted the vortex a little too much, Doc.” he grinned. Or rather, Lucifer grinned. “Your past with Miss Tyler made you a little...over-cautious.”
“Who the hell is Miss Tyler?!” Dean asked. “Get out of my brother, you sonofabitch, or I swear, I’ll-”
“Nuh-huh, Dean.” Lucifer shook a finger at Dean, disapprovingly. “Fair’s fair. Sam said yes. He’s mine now.”
The TARDIS was still moving. Dean glanced to the door, wondering if he could push Lucifer out...
“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Lucifer-Sam warned, and raised a hand. “Ta-ta.”
And he was gone. Lucifer, and Sam, were gone. The TARDIS was leaving Bobby’s, and Dean was screaming, not that he could hear it. Screaming. That was the last thing he remembered before the black-out.
PART SIX