Psych 101 - Chapter 3
Dean slams his way through the door and out into the cool evening air. He finally feels like he can breath. No one’s asking him about his feelings, no one’s trying to get him to talk about shit he’s trying to bury and forget about. Fucking Sam and his insistence that they see a shrink, talk about their feelings. As if that lady can help them. She might as well be a civilian, no matter what she thinks she knows.
“Dean…” Sam’s still trying to talk to him but Dean is done.
“Not doing it Sam.”
“Dean we need to…”
“No Sam. We don’t. Ya know what we need to do? We need to do our job and we’re going to do it. We’re not gonna sit around talking about our feelings.” Never mind that it was their inability to do their job that got them here.
After their encounter with Meg and Sam’s reaction to the demon blood things had gone from bad to worse. They’re out of sync; the unspoken connection they depend on to save their lives is gone. Dean’s finding it more and more difficult to swallow his anger as hunt after hunt goes wrong and Sam grows more sullen and withdrawn.
It’s so bad that even a simple salt-and-burn had gone to shit. Dean too busy being annoyed about digging up the dead body and Sam too preoccupied with making sure his research had them at the right grave they’d both missed the spirit of the murdered cheerleader arrive and start throwing things around. Dean had taken a shovel to the head before Sam was able to pour the gas and kerosene so Dean could burn the bitch.
After Dean’s head is throbbing, hands blistered and dirty he can’t stop from snapping at Sam for not paying attention, for not having his back…not that he should be surprise. Things dissolved into another shouting match after that, Sam trying to defend himself, promise he’s learned his lesson and Dean not believing him. They end up in the Impala giving each other the silent treatment.
They speak only when necessary, Sam hiding in his research, Dean obsessively washing the Impala just so he doesn’t have to be in the same room as Sam; neither sleeping, both stubbornly listening to the other toss and turn till they pass out from exhaustion for a few precious hours.
Each hunt gets worse then the last. They’re both sloppy and Dean’s getting reckless and they’re both going back to the motels battered and bruised, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Finally Sam couldn’t take it anymore and had demanded they go see Dr. Melanie Sharma.
Dean had bitched and moaned the entire drive but secretly he’d been desperate enough to try. Because Sam was still his brother and despite his anger, every fight, every day they ignored each other was killing him.
But after sitting there, listening to Sam give the most watered down version of what got them here, listening to him talking about Ruby and the blood and his betrayal and guilt Dean just can’t do it.
He can’t. And he won’t. They’ll just have to find another way to make things work between them. Maybe if they ignore it long enough…maybe if Dean forces it down far enough he’ll get over it somehow.
He just has to try harder.
Glancing over at Sam Dean feels his anger flair up again. Sam’s pissed at him for storming out. He’s still pissed at Sam for everything…yeah, things are gonna suck for a while.
Dean takes sanctuary in the Impala before Sam can start bitching again. They seem to have reached some kind of unspoken agreement that they’re not going to fight in the car. At least not the fights they need to have. Disagreement about a case, bickering over music…fine; knock down drag out fights about why they’re pissed at each other: no.
Sam joins him a few minutes later, the frustration radiating off of him easy to ignore. Dean pops in Metallica turns it up extra loud and speeds out of the parking lot, leaving the shrink behind.
Dean has no idea where they’re going, just that they’re driving away from Melanie Sharma and her Wellness Center.
They’re about fifteen minutes out, their anger simmering and stifling, when Dean’s phone rings, Bobby’s name flashing on the screen.
Sam turns the music off as Dean pulls out his phone. “Yeah Bobby.”
Dean can hear rustling and banging in the background and Bobby’s voice is rushed. “Got a call from Rufus. Needs our help in some town in Colorado and he needs it pronto. I’m leaving now. Meet you boys there?”
“Course Bobby. Send us the coordinates, we’ll meet you there.” A minute later Bobby text them the coordinates and Sam pulls out their map.
“River Pass, Colorado.” Dean nods, pulls onto the highway and heads towards Colorado.
XXXX
The first sign that something big is going down at River Pass is the small two-lane bridge leading into town has been blown out. Loading their bags with almost every weapon they have Dean and Sam slowly make their way into town, guns at the ready.
The town is deserted and it’s obvious something happened, cars litter the street, store windows shattered, doors left open, there’s even a empty baby stroller just sitting in the middle of the street.
And there’s blood. No bodies but plenty of blood pooling in the street and smeared across the sidewalks.
They parked the Impala next to Bobby’s beat up Torus but there’s no sign of the man. Or Rufus. Or anyone else. It eerie and Dean doesn’t like it. He glances over at Sam who looks just as confused and unnerved, head turning side to side, eyes scanning.
There’s music blasting from a car radio, clogging the silence, preventing them from hearing anything and Dean ducks in to turn the car off. When he stands it’s to find Sam with his arms raised, gun tucked away looking at Ellen expectantly.
“Hey, wow, Ellen. No need for that.” Dean mirrors his brother, arms raised, gun hanging off his trigger finger. She looks as strong and tough as ever, beautiful in the way strong, capable women are. Dean realizes he’s missed her.
“Boys.” She’s still got her gun trained on them. “A Pater Noster if you don’t mind.”
Voice overlapping with Sam’s Dean rattles off the beginning of the prayer. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis: sanctificetur Nomen Tuum…we’re not demons Ellen.”
Ellen keeps the gun trained on them for another second before dropping it down and finally giving them a small but real smile. “Good to see ya boys.”
She gives them each a hug and it’s the first affection that Dean’s had in far too long and ends too soon. They follow as she starts walking back the way she came.
“What’s going on here Ellen?”
“Not too sure. Jo and I got a call from Rufus, talking about demonic omens and asking us to meet him here. By the time we get here the whole town was a mess.” The further they get into town the worse it looks, bullet holes, broken windows, and blood.
“Demons?”
“That’s what we thought. Looked like the town was overrun with them but…well, now we’re not so sure.” She leads them into the town’s church were they find Rufus and Bobby and two civilians: a pregnant woman who’s crying into the shoulder of a priest.
“Were is everyone?” Dean looks around, trying to find more people.
“This is everyone.” Rufus nods at the civilians sitting in the pew. Despite how much blood painted the town Dean never imagined the town’s entire population would be dead. Small town or no, that’s a lot of people.
“That’s it? Where’s Jo?” Everyone goes quiet at Sam’s question; Rufus and Bobby cast quick glances over at Ellen who, for just a minute, looks like she might cry. No one says anything for such a long time that Dean starts to fear the worst when Jo’s voice breaks the silence.
“I’m right here.” Jo slowly pulls herself up from the pew she’s been lying on. She looks terrible, ice pack held over one eye, the other swollen and bruised, she’s got a cut lip and there’s blood matting one side of her head, blond hair stained red.
Sam hisses when he sees Jo’s face and Dean can’t help grimacing. It’s obvious she took a good beating.
“Ellen said there were demons?” Dean hates not knowing what’s going on. He looks over to Rufus, since he’s the reason they’re all here.
“Thought so. Least that’s what the omens were leaning towards. Bridge was already blown out by the time we got here, river polluted. Half the town walking around with black eyes looking possessed, everyone ready to kill each other. Ellen and Jo had a disagreement over which one of them was possessed hence the…” Rufus motions to Jo’s face.
“It was then we figured out something wasn’t right. Jo kept shouting for a demon to get out of Ellen while Ellen was trying to exercise a demon out of Jo. But only Jo had black eyes. Tried to organize the civilians but…well, they’re civilians, wouldn’t believe a word we said. Went out and the whole town ended up killing each other. Only turns out, no one was actually possessed.”
“So wait, no one was possessed?” It doesn’t make any sense. Dean’s never heard of someone having black eyes that wasn’t possessed.
“Looks like it. Salt, holy water, exorcisms…nothing worked.
“So what was it?” Sam asks.
“Hell if I know. Everything pointed to demons: polluted river, black eyes, indiscriminate killings…but damned if I could find a single real demon among them. And we checked the bodies after.”
“Any chance someone slipped out during the fighting? Anyone missing from the dead who was here when it started?” Dean lets Sam ask the questions while he wanders over to help Bobby break down the guns. There’s an entire arsenal spread out on a folding table.
He listens as the Priest tells that only one person is missing. “Roger. He was with us and then he was gone. I didn’t see him when I was sanctifying the dead. Perhaps he did just walk out of town.”
“Yeah. I doubt it.” Dean whispers it, not wanting the Priest to hear. Besides him Bobby snorts his agreement.
They spend the next few days in River Pass. During the day they salt and burn the bodies of the dead, at night they try to figure out exactly what happened. Bible quotes and omens and first hand accounts aside, it takes three days to finally figure it out when Bobby yet again asks the Priest and pregnant lady if there was anything unusual or random that they saw in the days before the chaos.
“I mean, there was shooting star the night before it happened. I only saw it because I was in the backyard; couldn’t sleep with the baby kicking so hard. It was big and bright and seemed so close. It was pretty amazing.”
Dean has to stop himself from yelling at the poor woman, asking her why she waited this long to tell them about the strange random shoot star she saw the night before the town went to hell. Especially when they’ve been asking her and the Priest for anything weird and random for the past three days. Instead he just grinds his teeth while Sam and Bobby flip through their small stack of books.
It’s Bobby who finds something. “And there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a torch…And the name of the star is called Wormwood:…and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.”
“Father, didn’t you say you saw Roger hanging out by a red Mustang just before everything started?” Sam’s got that look in his eye like he’s about to solve a puzzle.
“Yes. I did. Why?” The priest just looks confused.
“A red mustang, a falling star, polluted water, people killing each other…sound like anything to you?”
Sam and Bobby have a silent conversation, each of them checking and double checking what they know until finally Bobby tosses the Bible he’s been reading onto the table and leans back in his chair. “It’s the Apocalypse, it makes sense.”
Sam just nods so Dean asks for the rest of them. “What makes sense?”
“It was War. One of the Horsemen, bringing death and destruction. There were no demons, just War making people see what he wanted them to see.” Sam sounds resigned.
“Wait. Wait it’s the Apocalypse?” The priest sounds confused and stunned at the same time. Sam, Dean and Bobby share a look. Bobby’s the only other person who knows how the Apocalypse came about and Dean really wants to keep it that way.
“Welcome to the party Padre. If I were you, I’d pray extra.” The priest wanders off as Dean’s words sink in.
They drive out of River Pass the next day and Dean’s happy to see the end of the place. All they got was a whole new set of troubles out of the place.
XXXX
They drive aimlessly for a while, picking up easy hunts when they stumble across them. Their first hunt after River Pass is a simple salt and burn and Dean breathes a sign of relief when it goes off without a hitch.
There’s been no more omen about the Four Horsemen, no major up-tick in demon activity, the Angels have miraculously left them alone…things are surprisingly quiet. Which is exactly why Dean’s anxious. Things never stay quiet for long and they are in the middle of the Apocalypse.
Things seem to have settled between them a bit. There’s still anger simmering under the surface, things Dean wants to say that he swallows down. He can see Sam doing the same, can tell that he wants to bring up therapy again, watches his brother open and close his mouth to get the words out but he never does. Probably because every time Sam opens his mouth to say something Dean gives him a scathing look. Going back to therapy is the last thing he wants to talk about.
He’s having trouble sleeping, keeps waking up more tired than when he went to sleep. There are dark circles under his eyes and he’s got no patients. Sam isn’t much better, eyes red and puffy, checks sharper, shoulders dropping. He never says anything but Dean thinks he’s having dreams even if he never says anything about them.
They’re in another no name motel the first time Dean actually remembers one of his dreams. He wakes with a jolt, heart pounding, breath choppy, knife at the ready. Once he realizes it was a dream that woke him Dean drops back on the thin pillow, working to get his breathing under control as bits and pieces of the dream come back to him.
There was a man but he can’t remember what he looked like or who he was; he was talking but Dean couldn’t hear him. Everything’s jumbled and it leaves Dean feeling anxious, twitchy, like he’s suppose to know who the man is and what he said but he just doesn’t remember, the knowledge so close and yet completely unattainable.
In the bed next to his Sam is tossing and turning, pained moans escaping, legs thrashing. It’s obvious he’s caught in a nightmare. Dean lies in bed for another minute, torn between wanting to wake his brother and his own exhaustion. He may be mad at Sam but he still can’t stand to see his brother in pain.
Dean’s about to drag himself out of bed and wake Sam when he jolts awake on his own. He’s gasping for breath, practically hyperventilating and that gets Dean to sit up.
“Breath Sam. Deep breathes. In…Out” It takes a minute but Sam starts taking full deep breathes, following Dean till he can breath on his own.
They lay in silence for a long time before Dean asks if Sam wants to talk about his dream. Dean may not want to talk about his feelings but Sam’s nightmares have a tendency to be more than the usual dream.
“Can’t remember.” Dean’s not sure he actually believes Sam, tries to remind himself that he hasn’t been able to remember his dreams either but the thought that Sam’s lying won’t leave him alone so instead he does what he’s been doing for months now and swallows it down along with everything else.
Neither of them goes back to sleep, instead they just lie there, quiet and unmoving, both trying to ignore their dreams while they wait for the sun to rise.
XXXX
Bobby sends them on a possible Horseman sighting but when they arrive at the coordinates he gave them they’re too late. They end up at the local diner to find it full of dead bodies, bloated and grotesque, having died in ways Dean’s never seen before.
The local police are baffled as well, happily sharing information the minute Sam and Dean flash their FBI badges, granting them an all access pass to the crime scene. There are bodies everywhere, collapsed in the booths, fallen off stools, behind the counter and in the kitchen. It’s like a scene from a satirical cult movie, people scattered all over the place, somehow having killed themselves.
In the kitchen they find one of the line cooks, his hands and mouth burned down to the bone, French fries still smashed in his hands mingling with his melted flesh. Dean squats down next to him.
“Well something happened here. I mean people don’t just stick their hands in a vat of burning oil so they can eat themselves to death. They were clearly possessed by something. Poor bastard.” Dean glances down at the cook again.
“I think I know which Horseman it was.” Sam looks a little pale, his brow scrunched like when he gets his headaches.
“What’dya got?”
“Ever since we arrived I’ve been craving demon blood. I always crave it on some level but it’s worse since we arrived and there aren’t any demons currently in town so whichever horseman was here, whatever aura they put out, is triggering my craving.”
“Jesus, it’s like you make it sound like you’re an addict.”
“I am an addict Dean.” Sam gives him those soulful eyes of his, wanting Dean to understand but Dean just looks away, not wanting to deal with that particular issue right now. Sam gives him the out.
“So, which horseman deals with cravings? Deals with your most base needs.”
“Well it sure ain’t Death. Doesn’t sound like Pestilence either so, that leaves Famine.” Sam nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking on his feet. He’s getting antsy which means they should probably get out of town and away from whatever leftover mojo is affecting Sam.
“Alright well, we can do anything now. They’re all dead and Famine’s long gone so, lets get out of here.”
They’re almost to the Impala when Sam stops walking. It takes Dean another step to realize his brother’s not next to him. He looks back. “What?”
Sam takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I’ve been thinking and you’re not gonna like it but…I wanna try to get my abilities back.”
“What?” Dean’s honestly not sure he heard what Sam said. And if he did he doesn’t want to.
“Dean…” Sam’s giving him that look again, that ‘please understand look’ and Dean knows he heard Sam correctly.
“You’re serious?” Sam may be serious about this but so is Dean. “No. Absolutely not. There is no fucking way I am letting you…”
“Dean would you just listen…”
“After everything that happened you wanna go and…” They’re shouting, voices over lapping. Dean can’t even hear what Sam’s saying which is fine because he has no interest in hearing it.
“You can’t stop me Dean.”
“You wanna bet Sam? Just try it.” Because Dean really will kill his brother before he lets Sam open that door again.
“Please, Dean, just listen to me. I never needed the demon blood, that was just a way for Ruby to control me. These powers are a part of me whether we like it or not. I’ve had them since I was a baby and I’m gonna have them till I die. I wanna be able to control it Dean. So that I’m responsible for them, not some demon or the blood…me. I can control them. And if I can control them we can use them to stop Lucifer.”
“No.” Dean’s not budging on this. He is absolutely not dealing with this again.
But of course Sam is just too damn stubborn. “I’m doing this Dean. No matter what you say. I’m doing this.”
XXXX
“Will you talk some sense into him?” Dean knows he shouting as he paces around Bobby’s kitchen but he’d driven them to Bobby’s for support and so far Bobby’s being far too problematic for his liking.
“I’m not saying it’s one of Sam’s better ideas but…maybe it is better if he knows how to control them.” Bobby’s not exactly agreeing with Sam but he’s not exactly disagreeing with him either and trying to get him to stop with this insane plan to use his powers.
It’s an incredibly frustrating and incredibly terrifying conversation. Dean’s resisted Sam’s powers from the moment he got them, begged Sam to try and stop them, to never use them, not once believing there was anything good about them; even back when they were just uncontrollable visions.
Things deteriorate with Sam and Dean yelling at each other till finally Bobby gets sick of it and throws then out.
“HEY! If you boys are gonna fight you take it outside. I ain’t your mother and I ain’t your therapist and I ain’t listening to you two bicker like a couple of old ladies.”
Dean leaves Sam and Bobby at the kitchen table, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on his way outside. Let them sit and dissect the best way for Sam to control his powers. With the kind of luck Dean’s been having they’ll figure out a way for Sam to start a second apocalypse.
XXXX
Dean falls into bed that night drunk and exhausted, asleep before he hits the pillow, falling straight into another dream. Just like every night for the past few months.
Except Dean’s starting to think it’s not a dream he’s been having every night for the past few months. They’re too real and when he wakes the next morning it feels like he never slept.
He only remember bits and pieces, a voice, a hand, a piece of furniture, never enough to really remember but every morning it felt like he was forgetting something he knew, something he’d always known. It was getting more and more frustrating.
It’s also unnerving. Sam’s the one with the psychic mojo. Not him.
But after tonight, when he wakes in the morning, well rested and free of hangover, Dean remembers.
There’s a figure at the end of his bed, bright light surrounding him, so bright Dean can’t look, raising his hand to try and block the light. It fades slowly and Dean’s able to make out a figure in some kind of armor - wrist guards and shoulder protector, helmet and leg covers, a sword hanging from his waist - before the figure morphs into the image of his father.
“Dad?” Dean slips out of bed, standing next to it.
“No. I merely use this image because I know it’s a comfort to you.” The voice is deeper than his father’s; echoing slightly as if it doesn’t fit inside the image it’s chosen.
“So then you’re…”
“I am Michael, the first of God’s archangels. I stand at my Father’s right hand and wield his sword.” His voice rises with each pronouncement till it echoes off the walls and rings in Dean’s ears.
“An archangel huh? Funny, you look like my Dad.” Dean’s not ashamed to admit he’s a little freaked out. But there’s no way he’s showing it.
“I can be any visage. Who I appear as is unimportant. We must speak Dean Winchester. I would come to you but my little brother has hidden you from me.” He glances down at Dean’s chest, seems to look through Dean to the symbols Castiel etched into his and Sam’s ribs.
“Yeah you have any idea where Cas is? He hasn’t been returning my calls.” It’s unnerving to have someone look right through you, into you, and Dean really wishes he had some kind of weapon, anything so he didn’t feel so vulnerable.
“Castiel must remain in Heaven. He becomes to fond of humans and he begins to question our Father’s plan.”
“Awesome.” At least now Dean can stop trying to call Castiel. The likelihood of him getting any of Sam or Dean’s messages or coming to help seems pretty slim. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“The Apocalypse has begun. Lucifer walks the earth. It is time for me to take my vessel and meet my brother on the chosen field of battle.”
“Uh yeah, Sam and I are gonna find a way to send Lucifer back to Hell so you don’t have to worry about the whole, end of the world thing.”
“There is no other way. I must fight my brother. And I must kill him. I need my vessel.”
Dean’s starting to get a bad feeling about this. “And who’s the lucky bastard you get to wear around?”
“You are my vessel Dean Winchester. It is your destiny. Written before when the stars were young.”
Dean can’t help laugh. The idea that he’s a vessel is ridiculous. The idea that he would let Michael use him to bring on the end of the world is even more ridiculous. “Uh no. You’re an angel so you need my permission right? And I say no.”
“It is your destiny Dean Winchester. You are a servant of the Lord and my vessel.”
“Screw destiny. I’m not letting you wear me like a cheap suite so you can end the world. Never going to happen.”
Suddenly Michael is in front of Dean, looming over him, so much bigger than his father ever was, his anger at Dean’s refusal obvious. His body is glowing, its edges wavering, as if Michael’s true form is about to burst out. Dean looks up into eyes that see into eternity, overwhelming in their power and knowledge. It’s a terrifying sight to behold.
“You’re brother will not refuse Lucifer when he comes to claim him. And you will not refuse me.”
Dean feels like he’s falling into Michael’s eyes and drowning in his voice and then he’s awake. Lying in bed gasping for breath, body trembling, heart pounding, the memory of his dream overwhelming.
A hiccupping noise pulls him out of his own head, a gasping wet shuddering that Dean knows so well. Sam’s curled up in his bed, clutching the blanked, tears streaking down his face. He looks devastated. Worse than when he realized he’d released Lucifer from his cage and started the apocalypse.
It doesn’t take a genius to know what Sam dreamed about.
They look at each other for a long time. Finally Sam breaks the silence, his voice cracked and wet. “I won’t do it. I won’t. I’ll kill myself first.”
And for the first time in a long time Dean actually believes him.
“Me neither. We’ll find another way.”
Which means they have to solve their problems, talk about their issues, find a way to deal with their anger. It means, much to Dean’s annoyance that they should probably try that therapist again.
Awesome.
Chapter 4