R | You Arrested My Mind | SPN Gen
Title: You Arrested My Mind
Words: 2,000ish
Rating: Light R - one curse word
Warning: References things up to Ep 5.04
Summary: Sam sees himself in 2014.
Notes: Title and cut text from Gavin DeGraw’s “Belief,” which was on repeat through most of this.
Sam goes to bed in a dark hotel room outside of Cleveland, but when he wakes up, it’s on a ratty mattress in the attic of a shack. His stomach turns at the sour smells coursing the air and he blinks against the strange surroundings. There’s light coming through the broken windows but suddenly he’s seeing black and clouds and when it clears all he sees is himself, slicked hair, white suit, standing over Dean. Foot to his neck. Slimy smirk on his face. With one little turn of his ankle, his brother’s neck cracks and his eyes are flat, the body still.
The breathing is heavy and loud and the tears fall. Sam has no earthly idea what this is, what dream he’s having, but it hurts so hard and deep in his stomach he wants to vomit. He stumbles off the mattress, down the stairs, out the front door. He hurries down the abandoned streets, passing buildings crumbling to the ground without a soul in sight. And that scares Sam just as much as his dream.
“Hello, Sam.”
He stops, breathing hard, shoulders rising with each push of his chest. When he turns, he’s staring down himself, the one in the dream, in the white suit.
This other him just watches, interested look in his eyes, a settled smile on his face.
Sam nearly whimpers. “What is this?”
“It’s you.” The smile never breaks, but his head tips to the side as a palm presses to his chest. “This is us.”
Shaking his head, Sam’s eyes water and he takes a deep, hard, burning breath with the realization. “No. This can’t … I wouldn’t.”
“But you did.”
There are so many words swimming in his head, making him dizzy. Yet, he can’t manage any of them or even his sanity because staring at himself is more than unnerving. But at the same time, the facial expressions and the voice is so unknown that it feels like he’s staring at a complete stranger.
None of this makes sense and he’s digging finger nails into palms with tight fists, and praying the pain wakes him from this nightmare.
That’s when he spots the graffiti across the courtyard. Croatoan. He remembers the last time he saw that word, the last time he experienced its powers. And it all slips into place.
“I’m sorry if this is alarming. I hadn’t planned to see you like this. For you to see us like this.”
Sam shakes his head, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “No. Impossible.”
Lucifer steps closer and Sam’s frozen in place, his feet buried in cement. He almost looks sad. Nearly sounds it when he says, “It’s okay, Sam.”
“No, no, it’s not,” he says strongly as he takes a few steps away, shakes his head. His dream flashes before him. “Where’s Dean?”
A compassionate frown courses this other face of his. “He didn’t make it.”
“You killed him.”
“He … got in the way. There are plans here, Sam. Our plans, and he wasn’t part of them.”
Sam’s eyebrows crinkle as he stares hard and works even harder at stopping himself from more tears, to keep all emotion off his face. “I’m not part of this.”
“But you are,” he says, walking close again and then circling Sam. “You always were. From the very beginning. With Azazel and Lilith and Ruby. You were chosen for a reason.”
He can’t seem to stop shaking his head, as if the motion will keep all of Lucifer’s words from making their way inside.
A hand, soft and tender, lands on Sam’s shoulder, squeezes just enough to make its presence known. “You are the one who makes it possible. To return to the grace we want.”
“There is no we.”
The hand drifts away, and presses into the chest again. He watches Sam with caring eyes, trying so hard to convince him. “Sam. There is me, in here, with you. We’re doing this together.”
“This?!” he shouts, suddenly finding the best way to expel the terror from inside. His arms shoot out, motioning around them. “You’ve ruined this place! You’ve ruined this world.”
Lucifer’s head tips and he watches Sam for a few quiet moments before he easily goes on. “No, I haven’t. I’m putting it all back. To the beginning. Before people ruined it. Before they came and spoiled all the luscious fields and the sky and all that my father built. That our father built.”
Sam works his mouth into a fine line, wanting to say so much but fearing the depth of his emotions getting the better of him. “Stop saying that.”
“Sam, I’m sorry that you’re struggling.” He bends over, plucking a lone white daisy from the dirty earth. Its color is pure and bright in this moment, in this place. Lucifer stands and eyes it, twirling it between his fingers before he looks at Sam. “I can’t imagine how hard this is on you. But I want you to see what I’m doing. That this is for the better.” He extends his arm, the flower just before Sam’s face. “This is the first piece to grow. It took long years, but it’s here now.”
Shaking his head again, he ignores the offered flower. “There is no way that killing all these people is worth that.”
Lucifer shakes his head and frowns as he, again, walks around Sam. “No, you’re right. There is no price on the world I’m rebuilding. And yes, many, many people have died for it.”
“For it?” Sam scoffs.
“They’ve died for a better world. For a better future.”
Sam shoots back, “One they won’t ever see.”
He nods slowly, that same hesitant frown on his face. “Yes, you’re right. They won’t. But they also wouldn’t see the world they had been creating. The one with hatred and war and genocide.”
His emotions, the ones that make him want to cry with the thought that this is him somewhere in the future, build into hostility and they’re evident in his voice. “Sounds a lot like what you’ve done.”
“No, Sam. They did it. They did it to themselves. All while God … while our father was gone.”
“What about the disease? What about Croatoan? You did that.”
Lucifer gives a thoughtful pause then a smile. “Yes, well, that was just speeding up the process. To get back to the Go.”
His mind turns back to that day he and Dean spent in Oregon and all the people who were infected. He thinks of the mother Dean had shot, of the nurse who cut him, and how Dean wouldn’t fire on him. His brother had effectively set up camp right next to him, waiting it out until nothing happened.
His eyes burn at the memory, at the thought that Dean doesn’t make it through this war and he’s to blame. Because not only did he release Lucifer from hell, but he gave him a vessel and walked the Earth to get them to this point. With so little life and so much damage.
It wasn’t like he had ever considered saying yes to Lucifer, but this just confirms it, and he stands tall, eyes boring down on Lucifer.
Sam holds a bitter smiles as he spits out, “You think this would actually convince me? Seeing all that you’ve done.”
“No, I didn’t. But I wanted you to know all the good that will come of it.” He still has that flower in his hand, and he stares down on it again with a small, caring smile. “There is good here, Sam.”
“Hard to really see that.”
“You couldn’t see the real darkness before. When our father abandoned us. Left us with a cursed world. I’m just trying to do what he couldn’t. What he wouldn’t. To clean it up.”
“Right.”
“The future is brighter than you can imagine.”
Sam’s mouth twitches but he remains quiet.
“I loved our father, trusted him to take care of man, the ones that he put before us. Before the angels. But he didn’t.”
“And you think you can?”
“I’m doing this for him. Righting his wrongs. We’ll do this together.”
Sam takes a deep breath and blinks against all of this. The anger and the pain and the confusion of this world he’s standing in. He shakes his head resolutely. “No, we won’t. I won’t say yes.”
Lucifer frowns and nods. “Yes, you will, Sam.”
“I will kill myself first. Dean will kill me.”
He shakes his head. “No. He won’t.”
Sam’s lips tighten against each other and his eyes widen. Even if this is Lucifer saying it, hearing the words is harder than anything he’s had to consider. Dean won’t stop him.
“That’s how we’re here now. He doesn’t. He won’t.”
“No.” Then Sam’s voice gets harder even while he’s struggling with tears. “No, that’s not true.”
“Sam, the sooner you accept this, the easier it will be. For all parties involved.”
His head tips up, defiant and steady. And his tone is much the same. “I will never.”
*
When next he wakes, it’s back in the hotel room in Cleveland with the sun just starting to rise and streaming through the cheap curtains. Seconds later, his phone rings and he jumps at the caller ID. He accepts the call and huffs out, “Dean?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies awkwardly. And there’s a long pause between them until Dean can finally manage more words. But they’re still hesitant. “Hey, look … I need to talk to you.”
Sam breathes deeply, thankful that he can hear his brother’s voice. Grateful that Dean still needs him, even after telling him they couldn’t be around each other anymore. “Yeah, sure. What’s wrong?”
“We should meet. Where are you?”
His lungs stop for a moment, worried for Dean and what he needs, what he wants that can’t be discussed over the phone.
They meet in the middle of Indiana, flat field just beyond a highway overpass. Dean gives him the knife, and it feels heavy in his hands. Like he never understood the weight of it, like he doesn’t know what it really means or what it’s done before. But he focuses more on the man before him, on Dean letting him return.
The notion brings sweet relief, to be back with his brother. But he’s reminded of Lucifer’s words, and he has to ask Dean. Though it takes a lot to come out, and he fumbles with the knife in his hands as he does it. His face presses into hard lines as he fights the pain of Dean saying no. “Can you promise me something?”
Dean carefully asks, “What’s that?”
His mouth works and he can’t look at his brother when he says it. He eyes the opening of Dean’s jacket, the space on his chest where the amulet used to rest. Even that memory, when Dean handed it over to Castiel, burns. But not as much as this moment. “If it comes down to the end, if Lucifer comes for me - ”
He interrupts, “No. It won’t. We won’t let that happen.”
“Dean,” he says with meaning. Finally looking at him, tipping his head to the side. “If he does, you have to - ”
He cuts in again, shaking his head with hard eyes. “No, Sammy, don’t. Don’t ask me that.”
“Please. Dean.”
Dean shakes his head, short and fast. “No. I won’t. I didn’t before and I won’t now.”
Sam’s mouth presses closed and the moisture breaks around his eyes.
With one solid nod, Dean’s face steels itself and he stands tall. His eyes keep tight with Sam’s. “It won’t happen, and I won’t have to. So forget askin’.”
He looks down to the knife in his hands, thinks about Lucifer in his body and he wonders if Dean would say yes to Michael to stop it all.
Dean steps forward, hand gripping Sam’s neck tight to get his attention. “Hey. We’re gonna do this. We’re gonna go after that son of a bitch and we’re gonna do it right.”
His mouth moves from the flat line into a frown and then he forces it into a tiny smile. Just for Dean. But he knows it’s not strong enough, and he knows Dean doesn’t believe in it. Even if it looks like he’s trying to buy it.
Sam nods anyway. Because all he can do is listen to his brother and try to believe in him, too.
Words: 2,000ish
Rating: Light R - one curse word
Warning: References things up to Ep 5.04
Summary: Sam sees himself in 2014.
Notes: Title and cut text from Gavin DeGraw’s “Belief,” which was on repeat through most of this.
Sam goes to bed in a dark hotel room outside of Cleveland, but when he wakes up, it’s on a ratty mattress in the attic of a shack. His stomach turns at the sour smells coursing the air and he blinks against the strange surroundings. There’s light coming through the broken windows but suddenly he’s seeing black and clouds and when it clears all he sees is himself, slicked hair, white suit, standing over Dean. Foot to his neck. Slimy smirk on his face. With one little turn of his ankle, his brother’s neck cracks and his eyes are flat, the body still.
The breathing is heavy and loud and the tears fall. Sam has no earthly idea what this is, what dream he’s having, but it hurts so hard and deep in his stomach he wants to vomit. He stumbles off the mattress, down the stairs, out the front door. He hurries down the abandoned streets, passing buildings crumbling to the ground without a soul in sight. And that scares Sam just as much as his dream.
“Hello, Sam.”
He stops, breathing hard, shoulders rising with each push of his chest. When he turns, he’s staring down himself, the one in the dream, in the white suit.
This other him just watches, interested look in his eyes, a settled smile on his face.
Sam nearly whimpers. “What is this?”
“It’s you.” The smile never breaks, but his head tips to the side as a palm presses to his chest. “This is us.”
Shaking his head, Sam’s eyes water and he takes a deep, hard, burning breath with the realization. “No. This can’t … I wouldn’t.”
“But you did.”
There are so many words swimming in his head, making him dizzy. Yet, he can’t manage any of them or even his sanity because staring at himself is more than unnerving. But at the same time, the facial expressions and the voice is so unknown that it feels like he’s staring at a complete stranger.
None of this makes sense and he’s digging finger nails into palms with tight fists, and praying the pain wakes him from this nightmare.
That’s when he spots the graffiti across the courtyard. Croatoan. He remembers the last time he saw that word, the last time he experienced its powers. And it all slips into place.
“I’m sorry if this is alarming. I hadn’t planned to see you like this. For you to see us like this.”
Sam shakes his head, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “No. Impossible.”
Lucifer steps closer and Sam’s frozen in place, his feet buried in cement. He almost looks sad. Nearly sounds it when he says, “It’s okay, Sam.”
“No, no, it’s not,” he says strongly as he takes a few steps away, shakes his head. His dream flashes before him. “Where’s Dean?”
A compassionate frown courses this other face of his. “He didn’t make it.”
“You killed him.”
“He … got in the way. There are plans here, Sam. Our plans, and he wasn’t part of them.”
Sam’s eyebrows crinkle as he stares hard and works even harder at stopping himself from more tears, to keep all emotion off his face. “I’m not part of this.”
“But you are,” he says, walking close again and then circling Sam. “You always were. From the very beginning. With Azazel and Lilith and Ruby. You were chosen for a reason.”
He can’t seem to stop shaking his head, as if the motion will keep all of Lucifer’s words from making their way inside.
A hand, soft and tender, lands on Sam’s shoulder, squeezes just enough to make its presence known. “You are the one who makes it possible. To return to the grace we want.”
“There is no we.”
The hand drifts away, and presses into the chest again. He watches Sam with caring eyes, trying so hard to convince him. “Sam. There is me, in here, with you. We’re doing this together.”
“This?!” he shouts, suddenly finding the best way to expel the terror from inside. His arms shoot out, motioning around them. “You’ve ruined this place! You’ve ruined this world.”
Lucifer’s head tips and he watches Sam for a few quiet moments before he easily goes on. “No, I haven’t. I’m putting it all back. To the beginning. Before people ruined it. Before they came and spoiled all the luscious fields and the sky and all that my father built. That our father built.”
Sam works his mouth into a fine line, wanting to say so much but fearing the depth of his emotions getting the better of him. “Stop saying that.”
“Sam, I’m sorry that you’re struggling.” He bends over, plucking a lone white daisy from the dirty earth. Its color is pure and bright in this moment, in this place. Lucifer stands and eyes it, twirling it between his fingers before he looks at Sam. “I can’t imagine how hard this is on you. But I want you to see what I’m doing. That this is for the better.” He extends his arm, the flower just before Sam’s face. “This is the first piece to grow. It took long years, but it’s here now.”
Shaking his head again, he ignores the offered flower. “There is no way that killing all these people is worth that.”
Lucifer shakes his head and frowns as he, again, walks around Sam. “No, you’re right. There is no price on the world I’m rebuilding. And yes, many, many people have died for it.”
“For it?” Sam scoffs.
“They’ve died for a better world. For a better future.”
Sam shoots back, “One they won’t ever see.”
He nods slowly, that same hesitant frown on his face. “Yes, you’re right. They won’t. But they also wouldn’t see the world they had been creating. The one with hatred and war and genocide.”
His emotions, the ones that make him want to cry with the thought that this is him somewhere in the future, build into hostility and they’re evident in his voice. “Sounds a lot like what you’ve done.”
“No, Sam. They did it. They did it to themselves. All while God … while our father was gone.”
“What about the disease? What about Croatoan? You did that.”
Lucifer gives a thoughtful pause then a smile. “Yes, well, that was just speeding up the process. To get back to the Go.”
His mind turns back to that day he and Dean spent in Oregon and all the people who were infected. He thinks of the mother Dean had shot, of the nurse who cut him, and how Dean wouldn’t fire on him. His brother had effectively set up camp right next to him, waiting it out until nothing happened.
His eyes burn at the memory, at the thought that Dean doesn’t make it through this war and he’s to blame. Because not only did he release Lucifer from hell, but he gave him a vessel and walked the Earth to get them to this point. With so little life and so much damage.
It wasn’t like he had ever considered saying yes to Lucifer, but this just confirms it, and he stands tall, eyes boring down on Lucifer.
Sam holds a bitter smiles as he spits out, “You think this would actually convince me? Seeing all that you’ve done.”
“No, I didn’t. But I wanted you to know all the good that will come of it.” He still has that flower in his hand, and he stares down on it again with a small, caring smile. “There is good here, Sam.”
“Hard to really see that.”
“You couldn’t see the real darkness before. When our father abandoned us. Left us with a cursed world. I’m just trying to do what he couldn’t. What he wouldn’t. To clean it up.”
“Right.”
“The future is brighter than you can imagine.”
Sam’s mouth twitches but he remains quiet.
“I loved our father, trusted him to take care of man, the ones that he put before us. Before the angels. But he didn’t.”
“And you think you can?”
“I’m doing this for him. Righting his wrongs. We’ll do this together.”
Sam takes a deep breath and blinks against all of this. The anger and the pain and the confusion of this world he’s standing in. He shakes his head resolutely. “No, we won’t. I won’t say yes.”
Lucifer frowns and nods. “Yes, you will, Sam.”
“I will kill myself first. Dean will kill me.”
He shakes his head. “No. He won’t.”
Sam’s lips tighten against each other and his eyes widen. Even if this is Lucifer saying it, hearing the words is harder than anything he’s had to consider. Dean won’t stop him.
“That’s how we’re here now. He doesn’t. He won’t.”
“No.” Then Sam’s voice gets harder even while he’s struggling with tears. “No, that’s not true.”
“Sam, the sooner you accept this, the easier it will be. For all parties involved.”
His head tips up, defiant and steady. And his tone is much the same. “I will never.”
*
When next he wakes, it’s back in the hotel room in Cleveland with the sun just starting to rise and streaming through the cheap curtains. Seconds later, his phone rings and he jumps at the caller ID. He accepts the call and huffs out, “Dean?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies awkwardly. And there’s a long pause between them until Dean can finally manage more words. But they’re still hesitant. “Hey, look … I need to talk to you.”
Sam breathes deeply, thankful that he can hear his brother’s voice. Grateful that Dean still needs him, even after telling him they couldn’t be around each other anymore. “Yeah, sure. What’s wrong?”
“We should meet. Where are you?”
His lungs stop for a moment, worried for Dean and what he needs, what he wants that can’t be discussed over the phone.
They meet in the middle of Indiana, flat field just beyond a highway overpass. Dean gives him the knife, and it feels heavy in his hands. Like he never understood the weight of it, like he doesn’t know what it really means or what it’s done before. But he focuses more on the man before him, on Dean letting him return.
The notion brings sweet relief, to be back with his brother. But he’s reminded of Lucifer’s words, and he has to ask Dean. Though it takes a lot to come out, and he fumbles with the knife in his hands as he does it. His face presses into hard lines as he fights the pain of Dean saying no. “Can you promise me something?”
Dean carefully asks, “What’s that?”
His mouth works and he can’t look at his brother when he says it. He eyes the opening of Dean’s jacket, the space on his chest where the amulet used to rest. Even that memory, when Dean handed it over to Castiel, burns. But not as much as this moment. “If it comes down to the end, if Lucifer comes for me - ”
He interrupts, “No. It won’t. We won’t let that happen.”
“Dean,” he says with meaning. Finally looking at him, tipping his head to the side. “If he does, you have to - ”
He cuts in again, shaking his head with hard eyes. “No, Sammy, don’t. Don’t ask me that.”
“Please. Dean.”
Dean shakes his head, short and fast. “No. I won’t. I didn’t before and I won’t now.”
Sam’s mouth presses closed and the moisture breaks around his eyes.
With one solid nod, Dean’s face steels itself and he stands tall. His eyes keep tight with Sam’s. “It won’t happen, and I won’t have to. So forget askin’.”
He looks down to the knife in his hands, thinks about Lucifer in his body and he wonders if Dean would say yes to Michael to stop it all.
Dean steps forward, hand gripping Sam’s neck tight to get his attention. “Hey. We’re gonna do this. We’re gonna go after that son of a bitch and we’re gonna do it right.”
His mouth moves from the flat line into a frown and then he forces it into a tiny smile. Just for Dean. But he knows it’s not strong enough, and he knows Dean doesn’t believe in it. Even if it looks like he’s trying to buy it.
Sam nods anyway. Because all he can do is listen to his brother and try to believe in him, too.