(no subject)
Title: God Save the Martyrs (2/2)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC, Ruby, Becky (Rebecca), Zack
Notes: Oh, my god, it got so big it wouldn't fit in one post. Dammit!
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, just writing crap that comes to mind and probably butchering these characters badly. Rock on, babes.
* * * * *
October 2008
"A purification ritual?" Sam asks disbelievingly, "That won't bring my brother back."
"But it'll save your brother's soul from hell," Lee says earnestly, but squirms guiltily at the look Sam gives her. "Alright," she mumbles, "It's not what you wanted, I know, I'm sorry."
Sam sighs, disappointed. "No," he says, "It's good. I won't get him back, but... I don't deserve him. I never have. At least this way I can sleep at night knowing he's in a better place." The words feel hollow in his throat and sound even emptier out in the air.
Lee is silent for a moment, just looking at him before she says, "I don't think you get to choose whether you deserve anything."
He blinks at her. "Huh?"
"The world isn't fair. You take what you can get and you know better than I do that Dean gave everything for you, to you," Lee says seriously. "He never regretted it."
"Of course I know that," Sam tries to say, but she cuts him off.
"It's not fair to want more from him, Sam," Lee says lowly. "Be grateful for what you have, for what he's given you... and then you have to let him go. There's a better place for him than Earth."
Sam says nothing, just pretends he doesn't hear her and looks stubbornly away from her.
Lee sighs. "I'm going to go find Becky and see if she has time to pick up the materials we need," she tells him. "We can probably get everything together early November." He's ignoring her blatantly now, staring down darkly at the words in his textbook, though if anyone asks he wouldn't be able to tell them what it says.
"Fine, whatever," she mutters and Sam is starting to really hate that word. "I'll see you later, sunshine." Lee stands up and walks through the table and a wall to leave the building.
"She's probably right, you know," Ruby says thoughtfully, appearing suddenly at his side and startling him for the second time that day. "You should let him go." She smirks when Sam glares at her. "Now, now," she says, her tone somehow both mocking and soothing, "No need to get upset; I only said she was right, not that you have to agree with her."
"Go away, Ruby," Sam snaps irritably.
"Oh, Sam," she gasps, too exaggerated to be anything but insincere. "I'm hurt."
He flips her off, but Ruby just smirks back at him and slides into the seat across from him, the seat Lee had just vacated. "Besides," she says, sounding pleased with herself, "like spirit-girl said, life's not fair." She beckons him closer with a finger and reluctantly curious, he leans forward to hear what she has to say. "And like any respectable demon," Ruby whispers conspiratorially into his ear, "it's my job to make sure it's not."
Sam pulls back to look at her, wide eyed. "You mean-"
"Oh, yes," she says gleefully, "I do mean. Just leave it to me, Sammy boy, and you will have your brother back; living, breathing, thinking, eating - Dean Winchester will be alive in every way that counts."
"Yeah? What are the consequences? And how do I even know what you're planning will even work?" Sam asks skeptically.
Ruby chuckles mirthlessly. "You'll just have to find out, won't you?" she says cryptically. "Are you willing to take the risk?"
"Yes," he says without hesitation. "What do I have to do?"
"Nothing," she answers promptly. Her eyes gleam with dark humor when Sam frowns, looking back at her mistrustfully. Ruby pouts at him. "Don't you trust me?"
"No," he says truthfully.
She shrugs. "Fair enough," Ruby says, "But too bad. You're going to have to." She gets out of her seat and graciously offers it to a little old lady who is searching for somewhere to sit to rest her legs. The old woman smiles and thanks Ruby and the demon smiles guilelessly and assures her it's no problem.
"That was nice of you," Sam murmurs to her.
The smile that Ruby gives him is full of wicked humor. "If you say so," she says and something about the way she says it gives him chills. "Just go along with spirit-girl for now and I'll take care of the rest," Ruby whispers to him and leaves him to his studying.
The rest of his stay in the library is uneventful. He's not sure if he's relieved about that or not.
* * *
February 2008
They are politely directed to a nearby hotel and given a brochure of all things. At the hotel they're given a free room at Lee's family's expense, and they wave as Eric is led in a different direction from them. The concierge gives them a room with one king-sized bed and when they have to go back to correct him, the manager apologizes profusely and promptly sets them up in a luxury suite.
It's awesome. The bathroom is huge, the tub is big enough for even Sam to stretch out his freakishly long legs and still have room to spare. The minute they figure this out though Dean is kicked out of the bathroom so Sam can have some 'private time to himself,' which Dean is still snickering about.
Someone knocks on the door and Dean drags himself out of the soft bed to open the door and finds himself blinking down at Lee. She blinks back at him.
"Uh, hi," Lee says awkwardly and waves a check at him like a peace offering. "I'm here to give you the money you were promised - um, you'll need to write down your last name there for me-" She holds it out to him. "-here, take it."
He stares at her blankly for a second. "No," Dean says firmly.
"Oh, okay," she says, looking bemused. "You can always change your mind later, though, I'll have to make sure the family knows so they don't think you're playing them-"
"Why were you talking about dying?" Dean asks, interrupting her.
Lee definitely looks uncomfortable now and she shifts her weight from foot to foot, glancing around nervously. "I can't say-"
"Bullshit," Dean says plainly and pulls her into the room by the arm and shuts the door when she's inside.
She yanks her arm back, frowning. "What was that for?"
"Tell me what's going on," Dean demands and asks again, "Why were you talking about dying? I already know that you're planning on dying instead of your sister and I get the sentiment, believe me, but tell me this; why does anyone have to die at all?"
Lee bites her lip and looks away from him. "It's," she hesitates, "complicated."
Dean crosses his arms, unimpressed by her method of stalling. "So make it uncomplicated for me."
"I can't," Lee says reluctantly, "I really can't, it's my family's business, I can't just go around sharing this information."
Dean plucks the check out of her hand and she doesn't try to grab it back. She doesn't even flinch or look surprised at the slightest. He whistles under his breath when he reads the amount scribbled on the line. "Twenty thousand dollars?"
"Ten thousand for each of you," Lee says. She looks relieved at the subject change, but Dean's not about to drop the matter that quickly.
"That's no small amount," Dean muses thoughtfully and looks at her questioningly. "Hey, if you have this kind of money to throw around, why do you guys live in that little condo?"
"All this is coming from my dad's side of the family," she explains, "and they really don't like my mom so they don't send her any money and all the money they give me was locked up in a bank account I wasn't allowed to touch until I'm eighteen."
Dean's eyebrows go up. "'Was'?" he repeats, "'Wasn't'?"
She shrugs. "I requested that all that money get transferred to Cathy's account."
"Right," Dean says, "Because you're about to die." She presses her lips together and looks away. He sighs. "Look, I figure that if your family's willing to pay all this money, there's some risk involved." Lee chews her bottom lip and Dean's eyebrows reach his hairline. "There's a lot of risk involved in this, isn't there?"
"I can't tell you," Lee says weakly, her voice small.
Dean grabs her by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. "Listen to me," he says lowly, "Sammy's my little brother; I want to protect him. You understand this, don't you? I know you do." Lee's determinedly staring down at the floor, but Dean just keeps talking. "But I can't protect him if you don't tell me what's going on. And you have to tell me everything."
"Why don't you just leave?" Lee asks him mournfully, so quietly that he almost can't hear her, "You could protect him that way. Just go far away. Forget about this."
Dean laughs, but regrets it when she flinches. "How could I?" he asks, throwing her words back at her and watches her eyes widen almost comically. "How would I live with myself?"
"You just would," Sam says, startling him. Dean hadn't seen him come out of the bathroom - how did he get dressed without Dean noticing? His brother's eyes are hooded and shadowed and his body curls in on itself, like Sam's trying to protect his own heart. "You just would," Sam repeats. "You'd survive, because that's what you have to do and then eventually you'd start to forget and you'd learn to let go and live again." He looks away, looking so unhappy that Dean's heart aches.
"No, I wouldn't," Dean disagrees, frowning at his brother. "I wouldn't ever forget, Sam. The rest of my life would have been full of 'what if's and 'maybe's and guilt. I would destroy myself thinking about it - but this, this... You're my little brother, Sammy, and I'm never going to regret the decision I made. Never." The vehemence in that last word startles him almost as much as it seems to startle Sam.
Silence falls in the room, thick and strong enough so Dean thinks he's going to choke on it.
"Prophecy," Lee whispers.
Dean blinks. "What?" He's still reeling from the moment and for a second he doesn't connect the dots.
"My family was cursed, a really, really long time ago," she says louder now. "They were big believers of the ritual sacrifice and groups even to the size of fifty or more might be sacrificed in a single week. It was supposed to make the ancestors happy and keep the family prosperous and healthy. Mostly slaves, servants, criminals, outsiders that offended the family; sometimes the local people."
"Then?" Sam prompts her.
She takes a deep, calming breath. "One day, they sacrificed the local witch doctor for conspiracy. For what, I don't know, but she wasn't guilty. Before her death she declared, 'I will die now for your health and your prosperity,'" Lee quotes, "'but should anymore blood spilled be blamed upon your hands, your family will suffer until death will be merciful. Yet, you will find no mercy, not until the lifeless head of one of your innocent girls repents me for mine.'"
Dean is horrified, but Sam just frowns. "Did they stop afterwards?" Sam asks, detachedly professional as always.
Lee snorts. "No," she says derisively, "but after six people died mysteriously, they sacrificed one of the daughters of a lesser branch and it stopped happening. Our family's been very good since then. Long after that, part of the family migrated to Taiwan after China became communist, mostly the younger folk. Without the elders around to spread the lore, knowledge of the curse wasn't passed on to the new generations."
"Someone reactivated it without knowing," Dean says, looking at Lee for confirmation.
She nods. "My uncle," Lee says, "He shot and killed the man who broke into his home and raped his only daughter. The curse was reactivated and the elders came here to try to stop the curse."
Dean frowns. "Why you, then?" he asks, curiously, "If you have female cousins?"
Lee coughs and turns bright red. "Um," she says, "Innocent. Like... virgin. And most of my family in China is male and the rest, um, don't really fit the bill. Me and my sister are the only options left now."
"Oh," Dean says, then, "Why do you need hunters?"
"'Mysterious' deaths," she repeats, making air quotes with her fingers. She sighs when they stare at her blankly. "Oh, come on," she mutters. "You're hunters - what do you hunt?" Lee smiles grimly as comprehension dawns on their faces. "We become magnets for the malicious supernatural. It's not fun for us, but as far as we can see, it's fun for them. They've wrecked the last few times the elders tried to have the ritual. Then my parents found out what I was doing and freaked, so it got delayed, again."
"You didn't tell them?" Sam asks, surprised and there's something in his tone that Dean tries to ignore.
She shrugs. "No," Lee says. "I didn't want them to worry." She smiles wryly. "Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
"And you're willing to die for them?" Sam sounds genuinely curious.
"They're my family," Lee says and shrugs awkwardly. "Maybe they're a little flawed, but what else can I do? Besides, it's not like the things that are coming after my family are only coming after us; sometimes they go after the people around us, too, like our friends and loved ones. And-" She hesitates.
"What?" Sam asks gently.
"I don't know," she says thoughtfully, "I think... I think maybe I hope that after I die there will be something better for me." Lee smiles a little brokenly and it makes Dean want to hit something - or someone.
"There must be a way to stop this," Dean says, "We can delay the ritual until we figure out a way-"
"No, you can't!" Lee cries and flushes when they both look at her curiously. "I need to do this," Lee says firmly. "You have to let me do this. If I can't save my own family... what am I good for?"
Dean looks at Sam; Sam just stares back, doesn't say anything, just waits.
The word struggles past the lump in his throat and pushes past his lips. "Okay," Dean says finally, "okay." Lee smiles thankfully at him and the pit in Dean's stomach turns to ice.
Sam looks away.
* * *
December 2008
Lee had wanted to have the ritual done as soon as they had all the materials and Sam was all for that; it's Ruby who convinces them to wait until after Sam finishes his last quarter of school, finally getting all the credits he needs to graduate.
It turns out that this is a good plan. The ritual is supposed to conducted entirely in Chinese. There are long soliloquies of odes to the ancestors, prayers, recitations, hymns that make up the entirety of the ceremony, all to be said in a language that feels strange and fumbling on Sam's tongue.
Lee looked honestly baffled at his dismay when he found out. "It's not that bad," she'd said, "Of course I'm going to help you and I'll be there, giving you prompts. It's not really that different from reciting Latin."
"At least I can read Latin," Sam had retorted. "There's no phonetic way of reading these characters!" Except, apparently there is, but they're just meaningless squiggles to Sam and Lee reluctantly agreed to put off the ritual until afterwards so Sam can have time to memorize the words.
So Sam goes back to concentrating on school, ignoring the gnawing feeling of uselessness that comes from the thought of Dean in hell while he's writing term papers and learning Chinese of all things. Still he's thankful for having something else to concentrate on. Even Lee has something productive to do in the meantime - she and Ruby work on transcribing an English phonetic reading manuscript for Sam to study off of.
Chinese is unreasonably difficult for Sam to wrap his mind around. The different inflections of a single sound hold no meaning for him and more often than not, his inability to hear the variance between them makes the words stumble on his tongue. Lee is strangely patient with him; of course, at times she has trouble with the language as well. Chinese was her first language, but she'd grown up in America, in an English dominated world and she'd long since succumbed to the pressure of conformity. Sometimes Lee will spend hours checking and rechecking herself on a single sentence or phrase to make sure it's right and still not be entirely sure when she tries to teach it to him.
Still they manage well enough together, and the ritual also involves a lot of repetition. The quarter ends in the middle of December and Sam passes, getting the remaining credit he needs to graduate; he doesn't know how he managed that though, those months are just a blur to him. By then, Sam can repeat the words of the ritual by heart passably, although he still has no idea what any of it means. However, neither of them really understand the concept of the Perfect Yang Vital Breath, but they do a lot of research on it and Lee guesses that it's just a sort of meditation and visualization.
Suddenly Ruby is pushy, pushy, harassing them about getting on with the ritual - "How much longer do you want your dear brother to suffer in hell?" she asks coolly.
Sam calls Becky and she graciously allows them to use the backyard behind her parent's home. It's spacious and secluded enough for the location to be ideal.
"We're going to do this outside?" Lee asks curiously when he tells her.
Sam blinks. "Well, yeah," he says. "We're going to be burning stuff, remember? We don't want to light Becky's house on fire."
Lee shrugs. "Okay," she says dubiously, "I'm just saying. I mean, it's not going to affect me, but won't you be kind of cold?"
He stares at her with complete incomprehension before Sam remembers that it's December and Lee grew up in Michigan. He snorts in laughter. Lee looks somewhat affronted. "Dude," Sam says, finding himself having to fight the urge to laugh until he cries, "In this part of California, the weather won't be anything a light jacket and maybe a sweater won't fix."
"Oh," she mumbles sheepishly, "Right."
They decide to conduct the ritual the next night, spurred by Ruby's incessant nagging. Ruby hovers at the edges of the yard, watching as Sam sets up. "Just in case something happens," Ruby says, but there's a gleam in her eye when she looks at Sam that makes his stomach roil.
Sam starts off the ritual by offering incense to the spirits and kneels in front of the chair placed in the middle of the yard to humble himself. The now familiar, but still strange foreign words roll off his tongue as he places the talisman in his pocket on top of the incense and lights them on fire. As they burn Lee steps forward and solemnly locks gazes with him before sitting down in the chair, assuming her post as High Priest.
Long eulogies that sound sacred, beautiful in a way that Sam can't understand, spill from her lips and Sam realizes that Lee has been spending her time doing memorizing her part. He knows that she's had difficulty with the language too, but one wouldn't be able to tell from the way it seems to flawlessly leave her lips. Lee's voice soars, calling, and Sam starts when Becky's yard flickers in his sight and then is replaced by the interior of a Taoist temple.
The area is glowing and suddenly ghostly figures of great men surround him, their empty white eyes surveying them detachedly. They are the heavenly generals and officials; Sam feels his heart quicken and leap into his throat. He nearly looks one in the eyes by accident, but Lee gives him a warning look and Sam quickly directs his eyes down to the floor.
His skin is crawling and goosebumps rise on his arms. Lee is still reciting, but Sam feels rather than sees one of the officials raise an arm and she pauses.
... hello little guardian spirit ...
The words echo within Sam's head and he understands them, though he gets a distinct feeling that they are not spoken in any language he knows. Lee's eyes widen in surprise and she ducks her head, bowing the best she can as she sits in her seat. Her lips move, but Sam hears nothing.
... we know why you are here child ... The voice sounds almost amused. ... do not forget who were are ... we wonder only at your motivation ... this boy ... he is not your family ... is he not beyond your duties? ... we see your mind and his ... your soul is pure ... yet his soul is not ...
Sam inhales sharply.
... ah ... we believe he knows it as well ...
Lee's mouth works furiously again. Sam can't read her lips and guesses she's speaking in Chinese.
... you speak the truth ... we do not judge the living ...
Sam shivers unwittingly and then Lee's hands are on his temples. He spares a moment to be surprised that she can touch him and then he's overwhelmed with memories. Dean saving him - her - them - "I can't just leave innocent people to die, Sammy, not when I can stop it" - Dean taking down a vengeful spirit - wendigo - shtriga - werewolf - zombies - "Take your brother outside as fast as you can; don't look back! Now, Dean, go!" - running out of the burning house, holding his baby brother (Sam), eyes wide and frightened, the beginning of a life that revolves around the advice his father gave when he was just a toddler -
... his brother ... he was a soldier? ... his life was spent for a worthy cause indeed ... saving people ... killing monsters ... protecting his family ... you believe we should intervene to save his soul ... we agree ... the heavens will welcome him with open arms ...
Lee begins to recite again as if there was never any pause and then Dean appears, curled up and shivering. He's dirty and frightened with a wide-eyed kind of terror, his hands flying up to shield his eyes from the light from the spirits; manacles around his wrists clank together, the sudden noise jarring. Sam's mouth goes dry. It's Dean, his mind babbles at him incoherently, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean-
... we absolve you of your sins and your 'contract' ... we invite you to join us, warrior ... come ...
Lee stands up and to Sam's surprise, tears are streaming down her cheeks. Something within him aches to see the tentative smile Dean gives her in response to her bright, relieved smile. Sam watches helplessly as Lee walks to Dean and reaches for his hands, glowing with light; the heavenly officials watch impassively.
It feels like a stab to the gut to watch wonder fill Dean's face as Lee helps him stand up, the manacles dissipating into thin air. Something horrifyingly like peace begins to creep across Dean's face as he begins to glow as well, his eyes slipping shut and Lee only grows ever brighter.
This is her final salvation, Sam realizes. She'd saved her family and she'd saved her friends, and with this last validation of deliverance, there was nothing left for her to do but leave for that better place - taking Dean with her.
'No,' Sam thinks vehemently, 'No, no, no, no.' He struggles to get to his feet, cry out, something, anything - his voice sticks frustratingly in his throat, despair filling him - 'Don't leave me, Dean - don't leave me all alone.'
"This is just too tacky for me. All this glowing and the enlightenment? I think I'm going to be sick."
Ruby? She's suddenly standing right in front of Sam, balancing a medium sized bowl in each hand. Dean and Lee stop glowing; Sam exhales slowly, sick with relief.
... demon ... you are not welcome in this place ... This time, the tone behind the voice is warning, dangerous. Ruby only smirks in response.
"You know," she says conversationally, "I don't know why people think demons are so bad. I mean, you're almost as bloodthirsty as we are."
... you dare compare us to your kind? ...
"I do," she nearly chirps and places both bowls right in front of Sam. He gags in horror when he sees that in each, a heart sits in a pool of blood - both still have blood leaking out of it's vessels, like they were just cut out. "Life blood of the ram, a heart for a soul," she pronounces, "Life blood of a human, a heart for a body."
... what is this, demon? ...
A smile curves Ruby's lips up in a terrible smile. "I want to trade," she says, "I want Dean Winchester to live. In exchange, these are yours - their hearts. Their souls. Yours."
... why would you think we would want such a thing? ...
"The human heart was one of a sinner," Ruby says coolly, "She was to suffer in hell. You save her soul before it's even been lost."
... and what of the heart of the innocent lamb? ...
"Just in case," she says grimly.
Hesitation. ... it is not our decision to make ... little guardian-spirit ... as the ritual master and conduit ... the choice is yours ...
Sam struggles to speak. It feels like there is an invisible lump in his throat that won't let him speak. "Dean," he croaks, pleads. His brother looks at him and on Dean's face, he can see the inner turmoil. Lee touches Dean's arm cautiously.
Dean looks away and somehow Sam knows that once again, his brother has chosen him over everything else. Lee's face crumples and her eyes water, but she turns to Sam resolutely and walks over. She kneels before him so that they are eye level for once, and Lee mouths at him, 'Okay.' She slowly reaches a hand in each bowl, wrapping a hand around each heart. Lee closes her eyes.
Sam stumbles back in horror when her eyes snap back open and Lee screams. Her body - spirit? - erupts in fire and she screams, and she screams and then Dean is screaming and Sam is screaming and it burns, hurts, hurts...
...and it all fades to darkness.
* * *
February 2008
The weather is clear the night Lee dies. There are fifteen other hunters there on the family's payroll and a ring of salt encircles the area around Lee and her grandmother and the young man chosen to wield the yueh axe that will end her life tonight. Outside the circle only one person bears witness to the ceremony; Lee's mother, who shakes with the effort of holding in her sobs.
It should go smoothly.
It doesn't.
Of all things it is a gunshot that murders the young man holding the axe. The demon who shoots him smirks with the mouth of Eric's borrowed body and drawls, "Well, you humans so nicely create these weapons for us to use - far be it for us to waste such useful tools." The young man falls back and his dead body smears and breaks the circle.
The battle becomes a blur in Sam's mind after that - banshees, Black Dogs, zombies converge upon them and it's overwhelming. Lee's grandmother finishes her prayers screaming as a werewolf tears her throat out. The last thing he remembers is Lee sobbing and begging Dean to just do it, he has to, there's no choice. Sam thinks that maybe Dean had been sobbing too, then blood, everywhere, and her head falling uselessly to the floor.
Light explodes and Sam nearly shoots another hunter through the head when in the next second, every demon, werewolf, whatever, disappears.
Afterwards, Dean throws up everything he'd eaten in the past two or three days and just gags on empty air when his stomach runs out of things to eject.
They stay for the funeral which is held three days later. It's held in a huge church. Every pew is filled and every person has the same dry-eyed, regretful expression on their faces. Sam wonders if they know she died for them.
It goes on for hours as person after person talks about the Lee-sized hole in their life now, express their disbelief, shock, horror, regret at her death. In the middle of the proceedings a little girl begins to wail.
"Shh, Cathy," the man Sam recognizes as Lee's father whispers, "Shh..."
Dean drags him out of the church as soon as he can.
* * *
"I loved them," Lee says sadly, "All of them."
"Was it worth it?" Sam asks her.
Lee shrugs. "I don't know," she admits and turns to look him in the face. "I loved them, though," she says, "I loved them enough to die for them. I don't regret it."
"Why?" Sam can't understand it. It makes no sense to him. He doesn't think any of those people had cared half as much about her as she had them.
"To give my life meaning," she answers without hesitation now.
"By dying?"
Her smile is wry. "I like being useful," Lee says. She pats his cheek. "I tried to give you what you wanted," she tells him quietly, "and when you fell short, you turned elsewhere. I don't fault you for that."
"I'm sorry," Sam says.
Lee shakes her head. "Don't," she scolds him without heat, "I already told you I forgive you. I just hope what you get is worth it."
"It's worth it. I just wanted Dean," he says, "And that's what I got, right?"
She gives him a sympathetic look. "Yes," she agrees, "you did."
* * *
December 2008
Sam wakes up in the hospital, jerking awake with the creeping feeling of being watched. Sorrowful brown eyes meet his and for a second he doesn't recognize the girl in the hospital gown sitting next to his bed.
"Lee?" he rasps, voice hoarse from disuse or maybe too much use.
She gazes at him silently. She looks strangely tiny, her shoulders hunched over protectively, her cheeks sallow and it looks like she's lost weight she couldn't afford to have lost. All of her hair is gone and for some reason her bald head makes him think of bad kung fu movies. Inappropriate, slightly hysterical laughter bubbles up in his throat, but he holds it back. Sam wants to ask why she looks so terrible, what happened, why is she alive?
"Where's Dean?" is what he says, though.
She blinks once at him and then disappears. Sam gapes in confusion.
There is suddenly a huge commotion outside his room and, curious, Sam climbs out of bed. He sneaks out of the room, trailing after a harried looking doctor who keeps glancing at his beeping pager. The doctor turns into a room only about five doors away from Sam's, but it's the next room that catches his attention.
"She should have died," a man is saying to a cop outside the room, "I saw the wounds on her, and man, I haven't seen anything that bad since 'nam."
Sam slips into the room. On the hospital bed lays a body almost entirely encased in cast, the few areas not covered in bruises and scars and half-healed wounds. Sam can't really distinguish any of the person's facial features, their face is so swollen, but he knows for certain that it's not Dean.
A hand rests itself on Sam's arm and he jerks in surprise, turning to see a nurse. "Young man, you need to leave the room," she says kindly to Sam, smiling patiently, the crows feet at the corners of her eyes crinkling. It's strangely comforting.
"Uh," he says, "I'm looking for my brother, I think he might be here..." Actually, Sam has no idea where Dean might be, but this is as good a place to start as any. The nurse continues to smile at him politely and he's about to try to describe Dean to her, when the bedsheets become a separate lump and shift on their own, and the patient whimpers in pain. "What happened?" Sam asks instead, wondering if maybe this is a job, and hey, once he finds Dean, maybe they can jump right in.
The older woman frowns. "I can't disclose that kind of information," she says and looks incredibly offended when Sam ignores her and picks up the clipboard attached at the end of the bed. "Hey," she protests, "You're aren't authorized to look at that."
Sam's eyes flicker over the pages. His stomach sinks terribly at the first thing his eyes see. Young Asian female, he reads, Teenager, estimated age 16 - 17, badly beaten and tortured, barely conscious; found in company of man identified to be suspected serial murderer Dean Winchester. Tried to separate the two, but every try ended with Winchester in a catatonic state. No obvious change in female's condition, but to be safe, left Winchester in contact with female. Special monitoring requested.
Sam looks up when the bedsheets sit up and a hand emerges from underneath the sheets and pulls the blankets off to reveal his brother. The nurse voices her disapproval loudly when Sam drops the clipboard and goes to envelop his brother in a hug, Dean's hang up about PDA be damned.
To his surprise, Dean doesn't struggle. Sam lets go and holds his brother at an arms length to inspect him. "Are you okay?" Sam demands.
Dean stares at him blankly.
"Young man," the nurse says firmly, but Sam ignores her in favor of worrying about his brother.
"Dean," he says insistently, shaking his brother slightly, "Dean, answer me. Tell me you're okay." Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Dean clutch at a frighteningly pale, fragile-looking hand. It's missing a few fingernails. Sam thinks he's going to be sick; he hopes and doesn't hope that the girl is Lee, and wonders what he might have inflicted on her.
But, first things first. He needs to make sure Dean is okay. "Dean? You're beginning to scare me. It's me. Sam. Sammy. Your brother." Not even a flicker of recognition in the green eyes, just plain curiosity. Sam's worry quickly morphs into panic.
"Dean Winchester has not spoken since coming to the hospital three days ago," a dispassionate voice says from the doorway. Sam turns to look at Agent Henrickson, who stares back apathetically. "And," the other man continues, pursing his lips, "as far as I can see, Dean Winchester does not remember ever being Dean Winchester."
Sam doesn't realize how hard he's clenching his jaw together until the nurse's eyebrows draw together in concern and says, "Are you okay, sir?" Sam ignores her again and lets go of Dean, taking a step back. Then another.
The indifferent, puzzled look Dean gives him as he backs away hurts more than Sam ever could have imagined. Sam turns sharply on his heel and stumbles over his own feet as he pushes past Henrickson and the nurse, blindly running away from the room.
'Was it worth it?' his voice echoes in memory.
Sam runs harder.
* * * * *
~ end ~
previous
Author's Note HERE.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC, Ruby, Becky (Rebecca), Zack
Notes: Oh, my god, it got so big it wouldn't fit in one post. Dammit!
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, just writing crap that comes to mind and probably butchering these characters badly. Rock on, babes.
* * * * *
October 2008
"A purification ritual?" Sam asks disbelievingly, "That won't bring my brother back."
"But it'll save your brother's soul from hell," Lee says earnestly, but squirms guiltily at the look Sam gives her. "Alright," she mumbles, "It's not what you wanted, I know, I'm sorry."
Sam sighs, disappointed. "No," he says, "It's good. I won't get him back, but... I don't deserve him. I never have. At least this way I can sleep at night knowing he's in a better place." The words feel hollow in his throat and sound even emptier out in the air.
Lee is silent for a moment, just looking at him before she says, "I don't think you get to choose whether you deserve anything."
He blinks at her. "Huh?"
"The world isn't fair. You take what you can get and you know better than I do that Dean gave everything for you, to you," Lee says seriously. "He never regretted it."
"Of course I know that," Sam tries to say, but she cuts him off.
"It's not fair to want more from him, Sam," Lee says lowly. "Be grateful for what you have, for what he's given you... and then you have to let him go. There's a better place for him than Earth."
Sam says nothing, just pretends he doesn't hear her and looks stubbornly away from her.
Lee sighs. "I'm going to go find Becky and see if she has time to pick up the materials we need," she tells him. "We can probably get everything together early November." He's ignoring her blatantly now, staring down darkly at the words in his textbook, though if anyone asks he wouldn't be able to tell them what it says.
"Fine, whatever," she mutters and Sam is starting to really hate that word. "I'll see you later, sunshine." Lee stands up and walks through the table and a wall to leave the building.
"She's probably right, you know," Ruby says thoughtfully, appearing suddenly at his side and startling him for the second time that day. "You should let him go." She smirks when Sam glares at her. "Now, now," she says, her tone somehow both mocking and soothing, "No need to get upset; I only said she was right, not that you have to agree with her."
"Go away, Ruby," Sam snaps irritably.
"Oh, Sam," she gasps, too exaggerated to be anything but insincere. "I'm hurt."
He flips her off, but Ruby just smirks back at him and slides into the seat across from him, the seat Lee had just vacated. "Besides," she says, sounding pleased with herself, "like spirit-girl said, life's not fair." She beckons him closer with a finger and reluctantly curious, he leans forward to hear what she has to say. "And like any respectable demon," Ruby whispers conspiratorially into his ear, "it's my job to make sure it's not."
Sam pulls back to look at her, wide eyed. "You mean-"
"Oh, yes," she says gleefully, "I do mean. Just leave it to me, Sammy boy, and you will have your brother back; living, breathing, thinking, eating - Dean Winchester will be alive in every way that counts."
"Yeah? What are the consequences? And how do I even know what you're planning will even work?" Sam asks skeptically.
Ruby chuckles mirthlessly. "You'll just have to find out, won't you?" she says cryptically. "Are you willing to take the risk?"
"Yes," he says without hesitation. "What do I have to do?"
"Nothing," she answers promptly. Her eyes gleam with dark humor when Sam frowns, looking back at her mistrustfully. Ruby pouts at him. "Don't you trust me?"
"No," he says truthfully.
She shrugs. "Fair enough," Ruby says, "But too bad. You're going to have to." She gets out of her seat and graciously offers it to a little old lady who is searching for somewhere to sit to rest her legs. The old woman smiles and thanks Ruby and the demon smiles guilelessly and assures her it's no problem.
"That was nice of you," Sam murmurs to her.
The smile that Ruby gives him is full of wicked humor. "If you say so," she says and something about the way she says it gives him chills. "Just go along with spirit-girl for now and I'll take care of the rest," Ruby whispers to him and leaves him to his studying.
The rest of his stay in the library is uneventful. He's not sure if he's relieved about that or not.
* * *
February 2008
They are politely directed to a nearby hotel and given a brochure of all things. At the hotel they're given a free room at Lee's family's expense, and they wave as Eric is led in a different direction from them. The concierge gives them a room with one king-sized bed and when they have to go back to correct him, the manager apologizes profusely and promptly sets them up in a luxury suite.
It's awesome. The bathroom is huge, the tub is big enough for even Sam to stretch out his freakishly long legs and still have room to spare. The minute they figure this out though Dean is kicked out of the bathroom so Sam can have some 'private time to himself,' which Dean is still snickering about.
Someone knocks on the door and Dean drags himself out of the soft bed to open the door and finds himself blinking down at Lee. She blinks back at him.
"Uh, hi," Lee says awkwardly and waves a check at him like a peace offering. "I'm here to give you the money you were promised - um, you'll need to write down your last name there for me-" She holds it out to him. "-here, take it."
He stares at her blankly for a second. "No," Dean says firmly.
"Oh, okay," she says, looking bemused. "You can always change your mind later, though, I'll have to make sure the family knows so they don't think you're playing them-"
"Why were you talking about dying?" Dean asks, interrupting her.
Lee definitely looks uncomfortable now and she shifts her weight from foot to foot, glancing around nervously. "I can't say-"
"Bullshit," Dean says plainly and pulls her into the room by the arm and shuts the door when she's inside.
She yanks her arm back, frowning. "What was that for?"
"Tell me what's going on," Dean demands and asks again, "Why were you talking about dying? I already know that you're planning on dying instead of your sister and I get the sentiment, believe me, but tell me this; why does anyone have to die at all?"
Lee bites her lip and looks away from him. "It's," she hesitates, "complicated."
Dean crosses his arms, unimpressed by her method of stalling. "So make it uncomplicated for me."
"I can't," Lee says reluctantly, "I really can't, it's my family's business, I can't just go around sharing this information."
Dean plucks the check out of her hand and she doesn't try to grab it back. She doesn't even flinch or look surprised at the slightest. He whistles under his breath when he reads the amount scribbled on the line. "Twenty thousand dollars?"
"Ten thousand for each of you," Lee says. She looks relieved at the subject change, but Dean's not about to drop the matter that quickly.
"That's no small amount," Dean muses thoughtfully and looks at her questioningly. "Hey, if you have this kind of money to throw around, why do you guys live in that little condo?"
"All this is coming from my dad's side of the family," she explains, "and they really don't like my mom so they don't send her any money and all the money they give me was locked up in a bank account I wasn't allowed to touch until I'm eighteen."
Dean's eyebrows go up. "'Was'?" he repeats, "'Wasn't'?"
She shrugs. "I requested that all that money get transferred to Cathy's account."
"Right," Dean says, "Because you're about to die." She presses her lips together and looks away. He sighs. "Look, I figure that if your family's willing to pay all this money, there's some risk involved." Lee chews her bottom lip and Dean's eyebrows reach his hairline. "There's a lot of risk involved in this, isn't there?"
"I can't tell you," Lee says weakly, her voice small.
Dean grabs her by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. "Listen to me," he says lowly, "Sammy's my little brother; I want to protect him. You understand this, don't you? I know you do." Lee's determinedly staring down at the floor, but Dean just keeps talking. "But I can't protect him if you don't tell me what's going on. And you have to tell me everything."
"Why don't you just leave?" Lee asks him mournfully, so quietly that he almost can't hear her, "You could protect him that way. Just go far away. Forget about this."
Dean laughs, but regrets it when she flinches. "How could I?" he asks, throwing her words back at her and watches her eyes widen almost comically. "How would I live with myself?"
"You just would," Sam says, startling him. Dean hadn't seen him come out of the bathroom - how did he get dressed without Dean noticing? His brother's eyes are hooded and shadowed and his body curls in on itself, like Sam's trying to protect his own heart. "You just would," Sam repeats. "You'd survive, because that's what you have to do and then eventually you'd start to forget and you'd learn to let go and live again." He looks away, looking so unhappy that Dean's heart aches.
"No, I wouldn't," Dean disagrees, frowning at his brother. "I wouldn't ever forget, Sam. The rest of my life would have been full of 'what if's and 'maybe's and guilt. I would destroy myself thinking about it - but this, this... You're my little brother, Sammy, and I'm never going to regret the decision I made. Never." The vehemence in that last word startles him almost as much as it seems to startle Sam.
Silence falls in the room, thick and strong enough so Dean thinks he's going to choke on it.
"Prophecy," Lee whispers.
Dean blinks. "What?" He's still reeling from the moment and for a second he doesn't connect the dots.
"My family was cursed, a really, really long time ago," she says louder now. "They were big believers of the ritual sacrifice and groups even to the size of fifty or more might be sacrificed in a single week. It was supposed to make the ancestors happy and keep the family prosperous and healthy. Mostly slaves, servants, criminals, outsiders that offended the family; sometimes the local people."
"Then?" Sam prompts her.
She takes a deep, calming breath. "One day, they sacrificed the local witch doctor for conspiracy. For what, I don't know, but she wasn't guilty. Before her death she declared, 'I will die now for your health and your prosperity,'" Lee quotes, "'but should anymore blood spilled be blamed upon your hands, your family will suffer until death will be merciful. Yet, you will find no mercy, not until the lifeless head of one of your innocent girls repents me for mine.'"
Dean is horrified, but Sam just frowns. "Did they stop afterwards?" Sam asks, detachedly professional as always.
Lee snorts. "No," she says derisively, "but after six people died mysteriously, they sacrificed one of the daughters of a lesser branch and it stopped happening. Our family's been very good since then. Long after that, part of the family migrated to Taiwan after China became communist, mostly the younger folk. Without the elders around to spread the lore, knowledge of the curse wasn't passed on to the new generations."
"Someone reactivated it without knowing," Dean says, looking at Lee for confirmation.
She nods. "My uncle," Lee says, "He shot and killed the man who broke into his home and raped his only daughter. The curse was reactivated and the elders came here to try to stop the curse."
Dean frowns. "Why you, then?" he asks, curiously, "If you have female cousins?"
Lee coughs and turns bright red. "Um," she says, "Innocent. Like... virgin. And most of my family in China is male and the rest, um, don't really fit the bill. Me and my sister are the only options left now."
"Oh," Dean says, then, "Why do you need hunters?"
"'Mysterious' deaths," she repeats, making air quotes with her fingers. She sighs when they stare at her blankly. "Oh, come on," she mutters. "You're hunters - what do you hunt?" Lee smiles grimly as comprehension dawns on their faces. "We become magnets for the malicious supernatural. It's not fun for us, but as far as we can see, it's fun for them. They've wrecked the last few times the elders tried to have the ritual. Then my parents found out what I was doing and freaked, so it got delayed, again."
"You didn't tell them?" Sam asks, surprised and there's something in his tone that Dean tries to ignore.
She shrugs. "No," Lee says. "I didn't want them to worry." She smiles wryly. "Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
"And you're willing to die for them?" Sam sounds genuinely curious.
"They're my family," Lee says and shrugs awkwardly. "Maybe they're a little flawed, but what else can I do? Besides, it's not like the things that are coming after my family are only coming after us; sometimes they go after the people around us, too, like our friends and loved ones. And-" She hesitates.
"What?" Sam asks gently.
"I don't know," she says thoughtfully, "I think... I think maybe I hope that after I die there will be something better for me." Lee smiles a little brokenly and it makes Dean want to hit something - or someone.
"There must be a way to stop this," Dean says, "We can delay the ritual until we figure out a way-"
"No, you can't!" Lee cries and flushes when they both look at her curiously. "I need to do this," Lee says firmly. "You have to let me do this. If I can't save my own family... what am I good for?"
Dean looks at Sam; Sam just stares back, doesn't say anything, just waits.
The word struggles past the lump in his throat and pushes past his lips. "Okay," Dean says finally, "okay." Lee smiles thankfully at him and the pit in Dean's stomach turns to ice.
Sam looks away.
* * *
December 2008
Lee had wanted to have the ritual done as soon as they had all the materials and Sam was all for that; it's Ruby who convinces them to wait until after Sam finishes his last quarter of school, finally getting all the credits he needs to graduate.
It turns out that this is a good plan. The ritual is supposed to conducted entirely in Chinese. There are long soliloquies of odes to the ancestors, prayers, recitations, hymns that make up the entirety of the ceremony, all to be said in a language that feels strange and fumbling on Sam's tongue.
Lee looked honestly baffled at his dismay when he found out. "It's not that bad," she'd said, "Of course I'm going to help you and I'll be there, giving you prompts. It's not really that different from reciting Latin."
"At least I can read Latin," Sam had retorted. "There's no phonetic way of reading these characters!" Except, apparently there is, but they're just meaningless squiggles to Sam and Lee reluctantly agreed to put off the ritual until afterwards so Sam can have time to memorize the words.
So Sam goes back to concentrating on school, ignoring the gnawing feeling of uselessness that comes from the thought of Dean in hell while he's writing term papers and learning Chinese of all things. Still he's thankful for having something else to concentrate on. Even Lee has something productive to do in the meantime - she and Ruby work on transcribing an English phonetic reading manuscript for Sam to study off of.
Chinese is unreasonably difficult for Sam to wrap his mind around. The different inflections of a single sound hold no meaning for him and more often than not, his inability to hear the variance between them makes the words stumble on his tongue. Lee is strangely patient with him; of course, at times she has trouble with the language as well. Chinese was her first language, but she'd grown up in America, in an English dominated world and she'd long since succumbed to the pressure of conformity. Sometimes Lee will spend hours checking and rechecking herself on a single sentence or phrase to make sure it's right and still not be entirely sure when she tries to teach it to him.
Still they manage well enough together, and the ritual also involves a lot of repetition. The quarter ends in the middle of December and Sam passes, getting the remaining credit he needs to graduate; he doesn't know how he managed that though, those months are just a blur to him. By then, Sam can repeat the words of the ritual by heart passably, although he still has no idea what any of it means. However, neither of them really understand the concept of the Perfect Yang Vital Breath, but they do a lot of research on it and Lee guesses that it's just a sort of meditation and visualization.
Suddenly Ruby is pushy, pushy, harassing them about getting on with the ritual - "How much longer do you want your dear brother to suffer in hell?" she asks coolly.
Sam calls Becky and she graciously allows them to use the backyard behind her parent's home. It's spacious and secluded enough for the location to be ideal.
"We're going to do this outside?" Lee asks curiously when he tells her.
Sam blinks. "Well, yeah," he says. "We're going to be burning stuff, remember? We don't want to light Becky's house on fire."
Lee shrugs. "Okay," she says dubiously, "I'm just saying. I mean, it's not going to affect me, but won't you be kind of cold?"
He stares at her with complete incomprehension before Sam remembers that it's December and Lee grew up in Michigan. He snorts in laughter. Lee looks somewhat affronted. "Dude," Sam says, finding himself having to fight the urge to laugh until he cries, "In this part of California, the weather won't be anything a light jacket and maybe a sweater won't fix."
"Oh," she mumbles sheepishly, "Right."
They decide to conduct the ritual the next night, spurred by Ruby's incessant nagging. Ruby hovers at the edges of the yard, watching as Sam sets up. "Just in case something happens," Ruby says, but there's a gleam in her eye when she looks at Sam that makes his stomach roil.
Sam starts off the ritual by offering incense to the spirits and kneels in front of the chair placed in the middle of the yard to humble himself. The now familiar, but still strange foreign words roll off his tongue as he places the talisman in his pocket on top of the incense and lights them on fire. As they burn Lee steps forward and solemnly locks gazes with him before sitting down in the chair, assuming her post as High Priest.
Long eulogies that sound sacred, beautiful in a way that Sam can't understand, spill from her lips and Sam realizes that Lee has been spending her time doing memorizing her part. He knows that she's had difficulty with the language too, but one wouldn't be able to tell from the way it seems to flawlessly leave her lips. Lee's voice soars, calling, and Sam starts when Becky's yard flickers in his sight and then is replaced by the interior of a Taoist temple.
The area is glowing and suddenly ghostly figures of great men surround him, their empty white eyes surveying them detachedly. They are the heavenly generals and officials; Sam feels his heart quicken and leap into his throat. He nearly looks one in the eyes by accident, but Lee gives him a warning look and Sam quickly directs his eyes down to the floor.
His skin is crawling and goosebumps rise on his arms. Lee is still reciting, but Sam feels rather than sees one of the officials raise an arm and she pauses.
... hello little guardian spirit ...
The words echo within Sam's head and he understands them, though he gets a distinct feeling that they are not spoken in any language he knows. Lee's eyes widen in surprise and she ducks her head, bowing the best she can as she sits in her seat. Her lips move, but Sam hears nothing.
... we know why you are here child ... The voice sounds almost amused. ... do not forget who were are ... we wonder only at your motivation ... this boy ... he is not your family ... is he not beyond your duties? ... we see your mind and his ... your soul is pure ... yet his soul is not ...
Sam inhales sharply.
... ah ... we believe he knows it as well ...
Lee's mouth works furiously again. Sam can't read her lips and guesses she's speaking in Chinese.
... you speak the truth ... we do not judge the living ...
Sam shivers unwittingly and then Lee's hands are on his temples. He spares a moment to be surprised that she can touch him and then he's overwhelmed with memories. Dean saving him - her - them - "I can't just leave innocent people to die, Sammy, not when I can stop it" - Dean taking down a vengeful spirit - wendigo - shtriga - werewolf - zombies - "Take your brother outside as fast as you can; don't look back! Now, Dean, go!" - running out of the burning house, holding his baby brother (Sam), eyes wide and frightened, the beginning of a life that revolves around the advice his father gave when he was just a toddler -
... his brother ... he was a soldier? ... his life was spent for a worthy cause indeed ... saving people ... killing monsters ... protecting his family ... you believe we should intervene to save his soul ... we agree ... the heavens will welcome him with open arms ...
Lee begins to recite again as if there was never any pause and then Dean appears, curled up and shivering. He's dirty and frightened with a wide-eyed kind of terror, his hands flying up to shield his eyes from the light from the spirits; manacles around his wrists clank together, the sudden noise jarring. Sam's mouth goes dry. It's Dean, his mind babbles at him incoherently, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean-
... we absolve you of your sins and your 'contract' ... we invite you to join us, warrior ... come ...
Lee stands up and to Sam's surprise, tears are streaming down her cheeks. Something within him aches to see the tentative smile Dean gives her in response to her bright, relieved smile. Sam watches helplessly as Lee walks to Dean and reaches for his hands, glowing with light; the heavenly officials watch impassively.
It feels like a stab to the gut to watch wonder fill Dean's face as Lee helps him stand up, the manacles dissipating into thin air. Something horrifyingly like peace begins to creep across Dean's face as he begins to glow as well, his eyes slipping shut and Lee only grows ever brighter.
This is her final salvation, Sam realizes. She'd saved her family and she'd saved her friends, and with this last validation of deliverance, there was nothing left for her to do but leave for that better place - taking Dean with her.
'No,' Sam thinks vehemently, 'No, no, no, no.' He struggles to get to his feet, cry out, something, anything - his voice sticks frustratingly in his throat, despair filling him - 'Don't leave me, Dean - don't leave me all alone.'
"This is just too tacky for me. All this glowing and the enlightenment? I think I'm going to be sick."
Ruby? She's suddenly standing right in front of Sam, balancing a medium sized bowl in each hand. Dean and Lee stop glowing; Sam exhales slowly, sick with relief.
... demon ... you are not welcome in this place ... This time, the tone behind the voice is warning, dangerous. Ruby only smirks in response.
"You know," she says conversationally, "I don't know why people think demons are so bad. I mean, you're almost as bloodthirsty as we are."
... you dare compare us to your kind? ...
"I do," she nearly chirps and places both bowls right in front of Sam. He gags in horror when he sees that in each, a heart sits in a pool of blood - both still have blood leaking out of it's vessels, like they were just cut out. "Life blood of the ram, a heart for a soul," she pronounces, "Life blood of a human, a heart for a body."
... what is this, demon? ...
A smile curves Ruby's lips up in a terrible smile. "I want to trade," she says, "I want Dean Winchester to live. In exchange, these are yours - their hearts. Their souls. Yours."
... why would you think we would want such a thing? ...
"The human heart was one of a sinner," Ruby says coolly, "She was to suffer in hell. You save her soul before it's even been lost."
... and what of the heart of the innocent lamb? ...
"Just in case," she says grimly.
Hesitation. ... it is not our decision to make ... little guardian-spirit ... as the ritual master and conduit ... the choice is yours ...
Sam struggles to speak. It feels like there is an invisible lump in his throat that won't let him speak. "Dean," he croaks, pleads. His brother looks at him and on Dean's face, he can see the inner turmoil. Lee touches Dean's arm cautiously.
Dean looks away and somehow Sam knows that once again, his brother has chosen him over everything else. Lee's face crumples and her eyes water, but she turns to Sam resolutely and walks over. She kneels before him so that they are eye level for once, and Lee mouths at him, 'Okay.' She slowly reaches a hand in each bowl, wrapping a hand around each heart. Lee closes her eyes.
Sam stumbles back in horror when her eyes snap back open and Lee screams. Her body - spirit? - erupts in fire and she screams, and she screams and then Dean is screaming and Sam is screaming and it burns, hurts, hurts...
...and it all fades to darkness.
* * *
February 2008
The weather is clear the night Lee dies. There are fifteen other hunters there on the family's payroll and a ring of salt encircles the area around Lee and her grandmother and the young man chosen to wield the yueh axe that will end her life tonight. Outside the circle only one person bears witness to the ceremony; Lee's mother, who shakes with the effort of holding in her sobs.
It should go smoothly.
It doesn't.
Of all things it is a gunshot that murders the young man holding the axe. The demon who shoots him smirks with the mouth of Eric's borrowed body and drawls, "Well, you humans so nicely create these weapons for us to use - far be it for us to waste such useful tools." The young man falls back and his dead body smears and breaks the circle.
The battle becomes a blur in Sam's mind after that - banshees, Black Dogs, zombies converge upon them and it's overwhelming. Lee's grandmother finishes her prayers screaming as a werewolf tears her throat out. The last thing he remembers is Lee sobbing and begging Dean to just do it, he has to, there's no choice. Sam thinks that maybe Dean had been sobbing too, then blood, everywhere, and her head falling uselessly to the floor.
Light explodes and Sam nearly shoots another hunter through the head when in the next second, every demon, werewolf, whatever, disappears.
Afterwards, Dean throws up everything he'd eaten in the past two or three days and just gags on empty air when his stomach runs out of things to eject.
They stay for the funeral which is held three days later. It's held in a huge church. Every pew is filled and every person has the same dry-eyed, regretful expression on their faces. Sam wonders if they know she died for them.
It goes on for hours as person after person talks about the Lee-sized hole in their life now, express their disbelief, shock, horror, regret at her death. In the middle of the proceedings a little girl begins to wail.
"Shh, Cathy," the man Sam recognizes as Lee's father whispers, "Shh..."
Dean drags him out of the church as soon as he can.
* * *
"I loved them," Lee says sadly, "All of them."
"Was it worth it?" Sam asks her.
Lee shrugs. "I don't know," she admits and turns to look him in the face. "I loved them, though," she says, "I loved them enough to die for them. I don't regret it."
"Why?" Sam can't understand it. It makes no sense to him. He doesn't think any of those people had cared half as much about her as she had them.
"To give my life meaning," she answers without hesitation now.
"By dying?"
Her smile is wry. "I like being useful," Lee says. She pats his cheek. "I tried to give you what you wanted," she tells him quietly, "and when you fell short, you turned elsewhere. I don't fault you for that."
"I'm sorry," Sam says.
Lee shakes her head. "Don't," she scolds him without heat, "I already told you I forgive you. I just hope what you get is worth it."
"It's worth it. I just wanted Dean," he says, "And that's what I got, right?"
She gives him a sympathetic look. "Yes," she agrees, "you did."
* * *
December 2008
Sam wakes up in the hospital, jerking awake with the creeping feeling of being watched. Sorrowful brown eyes meet his and for a second he doesn't recognize the girl in the hospital gown sitting next to his bed.
"Lee?" he rasps, voice hoarse from disuse or maybe too much use.
She gazes at him silently. She looks strangely tiny, her shoulders hunched over protectively, her cheeks sallow and it looks like she's lost weight she couldn't afford to have lost. All of her hair is gone and for some reason her bald head makes him think of bad kung fu movies. Inappropriate, slightly hysterical laughter bubbles up in his throat, but he holds it back. Sam wants to ask why she looks so terrible, what happened, why is she alive?
"Where's Dean?" is what he says, though.
She blinks once at him and then disappears. Sam gapes in confusion.
There is suddenly a huge commotion outside his room and, curious, Sam climbs out of bed. He sneaks out of the room, trailing after a harried looking doctor who keeps glancing at his beeping pager. The doctor turns into a room only about five doors away from Sam's, but it's the next room that catches his attention.
"She should have died," a man is saying to a cop outside the room, "I saw the wounds on her, and man, I haven't seen anything that bad since 'nam."
Sam slips into the room. On the hospital bed lays a body almost entirely encased in cast, the few areas not covered in bruises and scars and half-healed wounds. Sam can't really distinguish any of the person's facial features, their face is so swollen, but he knows for certain that it's not Dean.
A hand rests itself on Sam's arm and he jerks in surprise, turning to see a nurse. "Young man, you need to leave the room," she says kindly to Sam, smiling patiently, the crows feet at the corners of her eyes crinkling. It's strangely comforting.
"Uh," he says, "I'm looking for my brother, I think he might be here..." Actually, Sam has no idea where Dean might be, but this is as good a place to start as any. The nurse continues to smile at him politely and he's about to try to describe Dean to her, when the bedsheets become a separate lump and shift on their own, and the patient whimpers in pain. "What happened?" Sam asks instead, wondering if maybe this is a job, and hey, once he finds Dean, maybe they can jump right in.
The older woman frowns. "I can't disclose that kind of information," she says and looks incredibly offended when Sam ignores her and picks up the clipboard attached at the end of the bed. "Hey," she protests, "You're aren't authorized to look at that."
Sam's eyes flicker over the pages. His stomach sinks terribly at the first thing his eyes see. Young Asian female, he reads, Teenager, estimated age 16 - 17, badly beaten and tortured, barely conscious; found in company of man identified to be suspected serial murderer Dean Winchester. Tried to separate the two, but every try ended with Winchester in a catatonic state. No obvious change in female's condition, but to be safe, left Winchester in contact with female. Special monitoring requested.
Sam looks up when the bedsheets sit up and a hand emerges from underneath the sheets and pulls the blankets off to reveal his brother. The nurse voices her disapproval loudly when Sam drops the clipboard and goes to envelop his brother in a hug, Dean's hang up about PDA be damned.
To his surprise, Dean doesn't struggle. Sam lets go and holds his brother at an arms length to inspect him. "Are you okay?" Sam demands.
Dean stares at him blankly.
"Young man," the nurse says firmly, but Sam ignores her in favor of worrying about his brother.
"Dean," he says insistently, shaking his brother slightly, "Dean, answer me. Tell me you're okay." Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Dean clutch at a frighteningly pale, fragile-looking hand. It's missing a few fingernails. Sam thinks he's going to be sick; he hopes and doesn't hope that the girl is Lee, and wonders what he might have inflicted on her.
But, first things first. He needs to make sure Dean is okay. "Dean? You're beginning to scare me. It's me. Sam. Sammy. Your brother." Not even a flicker of recognition in the green eyes, just plain curiosity. Sam's worry quickly morphs into panic.
"Dean Winchester has not spoken since coming to the hospital three days ago," a dispassionate voice says from the doorway. Sam turns to look at Agent Henrickson, who stares back apathetically. "And," the other man continues, pursing his lips, "as far as I can see, Dean Winchester does not remember ever being Dean Winchester."
Sam doesn't realize how hard he's clenching his jaw together until the nurse's eyebrows draw together in concern and says, "Are you okay, sir?" Sam ignores her again and lets go of Dean, taking a step back. Then another.
The indifferent, puzzled look Dean gives him as he backs away hurts more than Sam ever could have imagined. Sam turns sharply on his heel and stumbles over his own feet as he pushes past Henrickson and the nurse, blindly running away from the room.
'Was it worth it?' his voice echoes in memory.
Sam runs harder.
* * * * *
~ end ~
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Author's Note HERE.