Questhaven 11/12
Previous Chapters:
Questhaven 1/12, Questhaven 2/12, Questhaven 3/12, Questhaven 4/12, Questhaven 5/12, Questhaven 6/12, Questhaven 7/12, Questhaven 8/12, Questhaven 9a/12, Questhaven 9b/12, Questhaven 10/12
Chapter 11
February 2008
He smelled smoke.
A woman was screaming, a high pitched wail that was just slightly louder than the crackling of the fire.
He was being lifted, briefly, and then laid back down on the moist earth. Two sets of hands frantically grabbed at him and lifted.
Time skipped and jumped ahead. Sam couldn’t seem to grab on to any one moment and stay with it for very long. The moments faded in and out, consciousness coming and going as it pleased.
He was upright, more or less. The person supporting his right side was limping and cursing under his breath. The person on his left wasn’t faring much better. He was being carried forward, the tops of his shoes bouncing along the rough terrain. Sam tried to get his feet under him, tried to get them to cooperate and move properly, but his mind couldn’t seem to tell his feet to do anything.
“Dean?” His voice slurred. His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth.
“Yeah, Sam. We’re almost to the car. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Hurt…”
“I know you’re hurt, but we’ll-“
No, you idiot, Sam wanted to say. Instead, all he managed was, “No… you hurt?”
Dean’s laugh was strangled and sounded more like an amused sigh. “No, Sam. I’m not hurt.”
“I shot you?”
He felt Dean’s arm stiffen around his waist. “No, that bitch Rebecca shot me. Just rock salt. No big deal.”
“There’s the cars, Dean.” Sam heard Bobby say, but his voice was far off and echoing, like through a tunnel-
Time jumped.
Sam sees Dean running through the forest, panicked. Dean glances back as his pursuers close in on him and Sam hears the howling of the Hellhounds…
Sam’s seated in the passenger seat of the Impala, his head leaning against the cool glass of the window.
He opened his eyes and watched as the trees flew by, keeping to himself the thought that Dean was driving way too fast on these winding roads. Sam turned his head and glanced at his brother. Dean’s right arm was wrapped across his chest and his left hand was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. There’s multiple small cuts across his neck and face that Sam thinks must be from the rock salt.
Dean caught Sam watching him.
“You okay?”
Sam frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Were there just Hellhounds?”
“Sam, we don’t have enough on our plate right now? You want to talk Hellhounds, too?”
“No, I just… never mind…” His head began to ache and he reached a hand up-
“Sam? Sammy-“
Sam is tied to a table and flat on his back. His eyes are held open with surgical tape. He looks around the room wildly. A man, or someone who was once a man and now looked more like Frankenstein, walks up to the table and leans down. He begins to scoop out Sam’s eye-
Sam grabbed at his face, feeling both eyes for reassurance, and blinking rapidly.
“What the hell was that?” asked Dean, anger tinged with worry.
Sam jerked his head toward his brother. “Huh?” he asked, confused.
“Are you blacking out?”
“No… Dean I think I’m still having visions. They’re very, very vivid-“
They’re behind bars, sitting on a cot in a cell. Leg irons and handcuffs. Henriksen is there, taunting them. “Take a good look at Sam. You two will never see each other again.”
“-it’s like I’m in the visions. Experiencing them. Feeling them.”
“Sam? Did you hear me?”
“What? No…” Sam looked out the car window. They were stopped at a red light and he recognized the intersection as being close to their motel room. That was fast… “Dean, I thought we killed the spirit? Why am I still having visions?”
Dean was quiet. Confusion and worry lined his face. The light turned green and the car jerked forward.
“Dean?” He looked over at his brother-
A young girl walks into the police station, holding tight to her mother’s hand. “What’s your name?” “Lilith,” she says, raising her hand up, palm out. The twenty-something woman behind the desk backs up from the girl, horror on her face as she grabs for the cross on her necklace. A blinding white light and -
“Lilith.”
“Who’s Lilith, Sam?” Dean asked.
Sam was on the motel bed now, propped up on pillows. He opened his eyes and saw Dean sitting in the chair by the bed. His shirt was off and his chest was wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through the white cloth near some of the larger cuts. He’d already cleaned out the rock salt wounds and wrapped them- how long had Sam been out?
“How’s your head feel?”
Sam reached up to his temple, the constant ache there growing steadily worse. “It hurts-“
They have a demon tied to a chair. He’s taunting them both, refusing to give information. The demon looks directly at Dean. “Go ahead. Send me back to hell,” he says. “Because when you get there, I’ll be waiting for you with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester.”
Sam opened his eyes but Dean was out of the chair now and kneeled at the side of the bed. His head was resting on Sam’s forearm. Sam tried to speak, but the next vision began too quickly-
They’re driving in the car and Dean is on the phone. He glances at Sam and says, “Lilith? Why should I believe you?” A pause and then “This can’t help you Bela. Not now. Why are you telling me this?” Dean’s face hardens. “I’ll see you in hell,” he says and Sam’s chest tightens at the sound of those words, the finality of them coming from Dean’s mouth. Dean closes his phone and turns to Sam. “Lilith holds my contract, Sam.”
And the visions kept coming, reality mixing with the future until Sam couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
He watches as Bela is thrown to the ground, her clothes, body, face being ripped apart by an invisible force. She writhes and screams on the ground for only moments before bleeding out-
“Only Sam’s not waking up, Bobby,” Dean says. “Killing Rebecca’s spirit was supposed to end all of this!”
Sam is in a basement with Ruby. “Look. Call me a bitch, hate me all you want, but I have never lied to you Sam. Not ever. And I'm telling you. You can save your brother, and I can show you how.”
They’re in the car, Dean’s hand resting on Sam’s shoulder. “We’re taking you somewhere for help, okay Sam?” Sam opens his eyes. “Is this real, Dean?” Dean’s face falls, and Sam thinks the emotion in Dean’s eyes looks a lot like despair. “Yes, Sam. This is real.”
They’re driving, singing along to… Bon Jovi?
They’re in the living room of a nice suburban home. Ruby, Sam and Dean. “You had your chance. You can’t just flip a switch. We needed time,” Ruby says. But Sam is desperate: “There’s gotta be something. There’s gotta be some way, whatever it is, I’ll do it!” Dean pulls at Sam’s arm, but Sam jerks away. “Don’t Dean. I’m not gonna let you go to Hell, Dean!” “Yes you are,” Dean yells back. Not angry. Resigned. “Yes you are.”
They’re in a different room now. Dean yells, “That’s not Ruby!” and Sam is suddenly thrown against the wall while Dean is pinned against a piano and Ruby’s eyes roll back to reveal the white eyes of Lilith.
“This is Pamela. Best damn psychic around,” Bobby says. A female voice, unfamiliar: “Let’s get him into the bedroom and I’ll see what’s what, alright?”
Dean is thrown to the ground while Hellhounds that Sam can’t see attack. Sam yells for Lilith to stop, screams as he watches his brother get torn up by the invisible claws. They tear at his clothes and flesh and Sam can’t watch anymore. He turns his head and closes his eyes as he cries.
Sam holds Dean’s body in his arms. He cries, sobs, Dean’s name. “No…no. Dean…”
Lightning flashes. Screams echo. Dean is screaming. Calling out for Sam. Giant hooks in Dean’s skin hold him, suspended over nothing, an eternal abyss below and above. He screams out again for Sam, desperate and afraid. His face is covered in blood, his eyes are terrified.
In the distance, Sam hears his name being called. Over and over. He can only stare as the scenes unfold around him, as he wonders how he managed to fail his brother. He tries to figure out where reality begins and this nightmare ends, but he can’t seem to separate them…
…and the next scene unfolds.
…and the next…
***
February 2008
Rancho Sante Fe, CA -
Motel just outside of Elfin Forest
“So all of those jars in the cabin. Each one held a heart?” Dean asked, arranging his brother’s long limbs out on the motel bed and then collapsing into the chair beside him.
“As soon as Rebecca’s spirit started collecting her energy, I could see the jars in the kitchen, hidden behind a false wall. I smashed as many as I could, to weaken her, shot her with the iron rounds and set fire to the kitchen to destroy the rest.” Bobby sat on the other bed and rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “It was Sam’s idea. He figured out that the two girls, Rebecca and Elizabeth, didn’t die the same way the other coven members did. They were all ruled suicides, but the other members were missing their hearts when they were found. Removed post-mortem. Sam wondered if maybe Rebecca was using the hearts of the whole coven as her energy source, that possibly she had staged the whole suicide in order to keep the group’s power for herself.”
“Makes sense. Except add in Rebecca’s sister Elizabeth and you’ll have the whole story. In fact, five years ago I was down here and I burned Elizabeth Barnett’s corpse. You remember that, Bobby? I was in the hospital a city over from here, lost memory and all beat to hell? Sam came and got me? That was Rebecca, only I never remembered until now. Rebecca messed with my head that day so I wouldn’t come back and gank her before she could rebuild her power.” Dean shook his head and opened up the first aid kit. “Then Sam and I show up in the same freaking forest and she decides to take some revenge.
“I take it that it was Sam’s dumbass idea to come charging in and give Rebecca exactly what she wanted?”
“Sam knew Rebecca’s spirit was in his head; she could feel him coming. So I did all the sneaking around, poured the salt around the house and snuck in the back way. I told him you wouldn’t like it, for what it’s worth. It was the only way to vanquish that spirit and get both of you out alive, Dean.”
Dean pulled his shirt over his head in one quick motion, hissing as bits of dried blood tore open the rock salt wounds. He began to pull out some of the embedded pieces, cleaning and taping them up as he talked. “Only Sam’s not okay, Bobby. Killing Rebecca’s spirit was supposed to end all of this! He was lucid for a few minutes on the way here, but he would black out in the middle of a conversation and then seem confused when he woke back up.”
Bobby was silent for a minute. “Well, the spirit is gone, I’m sure of that. The hearts are destroyed, and we saw her and the cabin burn. Sam’s not having fevers or seizures anymore. Dean, he might need a hospital. He’s had his head messed with for days now. The fevers and seizures could have caused some kind of damage.”
Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t know, Bobby. He said he was still having visions. Besides, we can’t go to the hospital. We’re both wanted by the FBI in several states for, among other things, murder. Henriksen and his goons would be on us so fast-“
Sam grabbed his head with both hands, another vision hitting him. His eyes were shut tight, obviously in pain, but it didn’t look like he’d even regained consciousness. Blood poured out from Sam’s nose and ears almost instantly this time and he began to moan and babble incoherently.
“Sam, c’mon man. Shhhh. You need to wake up, now, dammit,” Dean said, grabbing Sam’s arm and pleading through clenched teeth.
Sam’s eyes opened. “Lilith.”
“Who’s Lilith, Sam?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair. Sam turned his unfocused gaze on Dean and didn’t answer. Dean wondered if Sam even saw him. “How’s your head feel?”
Sam reached up to his temple, his face contorting into a grimace. “It hurts…” was all he managed before lapsing into unconsciousness again.
Dean dropped his head onto Sam’s sweat-slicked forearm, took a deep breath and reached for the rag on the nightstand. He wiped away the blood from his brother’s nose and ears, noticing for the first time the tears that leaked out from the corners of Sam’s closed eyes. Dean pressed his fingers to his lips, the cool steel of his ring running along Dean’s jaw and the days of stubble there. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t watch this happen to his brother. He sighed heavily, and rubbed at his eyes.
“You’re right. We have to do something.” Dean ran his hand through his hair and considered his options. “Maybe…” He blew out a breath. Dean stood and grabbed for his cell phone, turning to face Bobby. “I can get in touch with Henriksen somehow. Turn myself in, ya know. Get some kind of immunity for Sam. I’m the one wanted for the murders. I can tell them I’ll confess to all of it if they give Sammy immunity and let him be treated…”
“Dean-“
“I only got a couple of months left anyway, Bobby. Hellhounds can whisk my ass off to Hell from prison just as well as anywhere, right?”
“That might work. Might not. Big problem is your brother will kill you himself if you do that. He’ll kill me, too for lettin’ you.”
Dean’s voice rose in answer. “Well, he’d have to be awake and alive to do either of those, which means I would have made the right choice!”
Bobby put up placating hands and backed up one step. He’d seen that look in Dean’s eyes before, not too long ago (Well then let it end), and Bobby was no fool. But just because he’d put a bit of distance between himself and Dean, didn’t mean he was going to back down.
“It might come to that, Son. I got one more trick up my sleeve, though. If you want to hear it?” At Dean’s hesitant nod, Bobby continued. “I got this friend, a psychic. She’s real good, too.”
“A psychic?”
“She’d be able to at least confirm whether this was medical or supernatural. We load up on caffeine and drive all night we could make good time.”
Dean didn’t need to hear any more. They had a plan and that was all he needed. He began to pack up the few remaining items in the motel room.
“Save up your strength there, boy. It’s gonna take the both of us to get your brother’s gigantic, unconscious ass back into the car, ya know.”
End Chapter 11
Next Chapter Here: Questhaven 12/12
Questhaven 1/12, Questhaven 2/12, Questhaven 3/12, Questhaven 4/12, Questhaven 5/12, Questhaven 6/12, Questhaven 7/12, Questhaven 8/12, Questhaven 9a/12, Questhaven 9b/12, Questhaven 10/12
Chapter 11
February 2008
He smelled smoke.
A woman was screaming, a high pitched wail that was just slightly louder than the crackling of the fire.
He was being lifted, briefly, and then laid back down on the moist earth. Two sets of hands frantically grabbed at him and lifted.
Time skipped and jumped ahead. Sam couldn’t seem to grab on to any one moment and stay with it for very long. The moments faded in and out, consciousness coming and going as it pleased.
He was upright, more or less. The person supporting his right side was limping and cursing under his breath. The person on his left wasn’t faring much better. He was being carried forward, the tops of his shoes bouncing along the rough terrain. Sam tried to get his feet under him, tried to get them to cooperate and move properly, but his mind couldn’t seem to tell his feet to do anything.
“Dean?” His voice slurred. His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth.
“Yeah, Sam. We’re almost to the car. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Hurt…”
“I know you’re hurt, but we’ll-“
No, you idiot, Sam wanted to say. Instead, all he managed was, “No… you hurt?”
Dean’s laugh was strangled and sounded more like an amused sigh. “No, Sam. I’m not hurt.”
“I shot you?”
He felt Dean’s arm stiffen around his waist. “No, that bitch Rebecca shot me. Just rock salt. No big deal.”
“There’s the cars, Dean.” Sam heard Bobby say, but his voice was far off and echoing, like through a tunnel-
Time jumped.
Sam sees Dean running through the forest, panicked. Dean glances back as his pursuers close in on him and Sam hears the howling of the Hellhounds…
Sam’s seated in the passenger seat of the Impala, his head leaning against the cool glass of the window.
He opened his eyes and watched as the trees flew by, keeping to himself the thought that Dean was driving way too fast on these winding roads. Sam turned his head and glanced at his brother. Dean’s right arm was wrapped across his chest and his left hand was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. There’s multiple small cuts across his neck and face that Sam thinks must be from the rock salt.
Dean caught Sam watching him.
“You okay?”
Sam frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Were there just Hellhounds?”
“Sam, we don’t have enough on our plate right now? You want to talk Hellhounds, too?”
“No, I just… never mind…” His head began to ache and he reached a hand up-
“Sam? Sammy-“
Sam is tied to a table and flat on his back. His eyes are held open with surgical tape. He looks around the room wildly. A man, or someone who was once a man and now looked more like Frankenstein, walks up to the table and leans down. He begins to scoop out Sam’s eye-
Sam grabbed at his face, feeling both eyes for reassurance, and blinking rapidly.
“What the hell was that?” asked Dean, anger tinged with worry.
Sam jerked his head toward his brother. “Huh?” he asked, confused.
“Are you blacking out?”
“No… Dean I think I’m still having visions. They’re very, very vivid-“
They’re behind bars, sitting on a cot in a cell. Leg irons and handcuffs. Henriksen is there, taunting them. “Take a good look at Sam. You two will never see each other again.”
“-it’s like I’m in the visions. Experiencing them. Feeling them.”
“Sam? Did you hear me?”
“What? No…” Sam looked out the car window. They were stopped at a red light and he recognized the intersection as being close to their motel room. That was fast… “Dean, I thought we killed the spirit? Why am I still having visions?”
Dean was quiet. Confusion and worry lined his face. The light turned green and the car jerked forward.
“Dean?” He looked over at his brother-
A young girl walks into the police station, holding tight to her mother’s hand. “What’s your name?” “Lilith,” she says, raising her hand up, palm out. The twenty-something woman behind the desk backs up from the girl, horror on her face as she grabs for the cross on her necklace. A blinding white light and -
“Lilith.”
“Who’s Lilith, Sam?” Dean asked.
Sam was on the motel bed now, propped up on pillows. He opened his eyes and saw Dean sitting in the chair by the bed. His shirt was off and his chest was wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through the white cloth near some of the larger cuts. He’d already cleaned out the rock salt wounds and wrapped them- how long had Sam been out?
“How’s your head feel?”
Sam reached up to his temple, the constant ache there growing steadily worse. “It hurts-“
They have a demon tied to a chair. He’s taunting them both, refusing to give information. The demon looks directly at Dean. “Go ahead. Send me back to hell,” he says. “Because when you get there, I’ll be waiting for you with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester.”
Sam opened his eyes but Dean was out of the chair now and kneeled at the side of the bed. His head was resting on Sam’s forearm. Sam tried to speak, but the next vision began too quickly-
They’re driving in the car and Dean is on the phone. He glances at Sam and says, “Lilith? Why should I believe you?” A pause and then “This can’t help you Bela. Not now. Why are you telling me this?” Dean’s face hardens. “I’ll see you in hell,” he says and Sam’s chest tightens at the sound of those words, the finality of them coming from Dean’s mouth. Dean closes his phone and turns to Sam. “Lilith holds my contract, Sam.”
And the visions kept coming, reality mixing with the future until Sam couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
He watches as Bela is thrown to the ground, her clothes, body, face being ripped apart by an invisible force. She writhes and screams on the ground for only moments before bleeding out-
“Only Sam’s not waking up, Bobby,” Dean says. “Killing Rebecca’s spirit was supposed to end all of this!”
Sam is in a basement with Ruby. “Look. Call me a bitch, hate me all you want, but I have never lied to you Sam. Not ever. And I'm telling you. You can save your brother, and I can show you how.”
They’re in the car, Dean’s hand resting on Sam’s shoulder. “We’re taking you somewhere for help, okay Sam?” Sam opens his eyes. “Is this real, Dean?” Dean’s face falls, and Sam thinks the emotion in Dean’s eyes looks a lot like despair. “Yes, Sam. This is real.”
They’re driving, singing along to… Bon Jovi?
They’re in the living room of a nice suburban home. Ruby, Sam and Dean. “You had your chance. You can’t just flip a switch. We needed time,” Ruby says. But Sam is desperate: “There’s gotta be something. There’s gotta be some way, whatever it is, I’ll do it!” Dean pulls at Sam’s arm, but Sam jerks away. “Don’t Dean. I’m not gonna let you go to Hell, Dean!” “Yes you are,” Dean yells back. Not angry. Resigned. “Yes you are.”
They’re in a different room now. Dean yells, “That’s not Ruby!” and Sam is suddenly thrown against the wall while Dean is pinned against a piano and Ruby’s eyes roll back to reveal the white eyes of Lilith.
“This is Pamela. Best damn psychic around,” Bobby says. A female voice, unfamiliar: “Let’s get him into the bedroom and I’ll see what’s what, alright?”
Dean is thrown to the ground while Hellhounds that Sam can’t see attack. Sam yells for Lilith to stop, screams as he watches his brother get torn up by the invisible claws. They tear at his clothes and flesh and Sam can’t watch anymore. He turns his head and closes his eyes as he cries.
Sam holds Dean’s body in his arms. He cries, sobs, Dean’s name. “No…no. Dean…”
Lightning flashes. Screams echo. Dean is screaming. Calling out for Sam. Giant hooks in Dean’s skin hold him, suspended over nothing, an eternal abyss below and above. He screams out again for Sam, desperate and afraid. His face is covered in blood, his eyes are terrified.
In the distance, Sam hears his name being called. Over and over. He can only stare as the scenes unfold around him, as he wonders how he managed to fail his brother. He tries to figure out where reality begins and this nightmare ends, but he can’t seem to separate them…
…and the next scene unfolds.
…and the next…
***
February 2008
Rancho Sante Fe, CA -
Motel just outside of Elfin Forest
“So all of those jars in the cabin. Each one held a heart?” Dean asked, arranging his brother’s long limbs out on the motel bed and then collapsing into the chair beside him.
“As soon as Rebecca’s spirit started collecting her energy, I could see the jars in the kitchen, hidden behind a false wall. I smashed as many as I could, to weaken her, shot her with the iron rounds and set fire to the kitchen to destroy the rest.” Bobby sat on the other bed and rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “It was Sam’s idea. He figured out that the two girls, Rebecca and Elizabeth, didn’t die the same way the other coven members did. They were all ruled suicides, but the other members were missing their hearts when they were found. Removed post-mortem. Sam wondered if maybe Rebecca was using the hearts of the whole coven as her energy source, that possibly she had staged the whole suicide in order to keep the group’s power for herself.”
“Makes sense. Except add in Rebecca’s sister Elizabeth and you’ll have the whole story. In fact, five years ago I was down here and I burned Elizabeth Barnett’s corpse. You remember that, Bobby? I was in the hospital a city over from here, lost memory and all beat to hell? Sam came and got me? That was Rebecca, only I never remembered until now. Rebecca messed with my head that day so I wouldn’t come back and gank her before she could rebuild her power.” Dean shook his head and opened up the first aid kit. “Then Sam and I show up in the same freaking forest and she decides to take some revenge.
“I take it that it was Sam’s dumbass idea to come charging in and give Rebecca exactly what she wanted?”
“Sam knew Rebecca’s spirit was in his head; she could feel him coming. So I did all the sneaking around, poured the salt around the house and snuck in the back way. I told him you wouldn’t like it, for what it’s worth. It was the only way to vanquish that spirit and get both of you out alive, Dean.”
Dean pulled his shirt over his head in one quick motion, hissing as bits of dried blood tore open the rock salt wounds. He began to pull out some of the embedded pieces, cleaning and taping them up as he talked. “Only Sam’s not okay, Bobby. Killing Rebecca’s spirit was supposed to end all of this! He was lucid for a few minutes on the way here, but he would black out in the middle of a conversation and then seem confused when he woke back up.”
Bobby was silent for a minute. “Well, the spirit is gone, I’m sure of that. The hearts are destroyed, and we saw her and the cabin burn. Sam’s not having fevers or seizures anymore. Dean, he might need a hospital. He’s had his head messed with for days now. The fevers and seizures could have caused some kind of damage.”
Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t know, Bobby. He said he was still having visions. Besides, we can’t go to the hospital. We’re both wanted by the FBI in several states for, among other things, murder. Henriksen and his goons would be on us so fast-“
Sam grabbed his head with both hands, another vision hitting him. His eyes were shut tight, obviously in pain, but it didn’t look like he’d even regained consciousness. Blood poured out from Sam’s nose and ears almost instantly this time and he began to moan and babble incoherently.
“Sam, c’mon man. Shhhh. You need to wake up, now, dammit,” Dean said, grabbing Sam’s arm and pleading through clenched teeth.
Sam’s eyes opened. “Lilith.”
“Who’s Lilith, Sam?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair. Sam turned his unfocused gaze on Dean and didn’t answer. Dean wondered if Sam even saw him. “How’s your head feel?”
Sam reached up to his temple, his face contorting into a grimace. “It hurts…” was all he managed before lapsing into unconsciousness again.
Dean dropped his head onto Sam’s sweat-slicked forearm, took a deep breath and reached for the rag on the nightstand. He wiped away the blood from his brother’s nose and ears, noticing for the first time the tears that leaked out from the corners of Sam’s closed eyes. Dean pressed his fingers to his lips, the cool steel of his ring running along Dean’s jaw and the days of stubble there. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t watch this happen to his brother. He sighed heavily, and rubbed at his eyes.
“You’re right. We have to do something.” Dean ran his hand through his hair and considered his options. “Maybe…” He blew out a breath. Dean stood and grabbed for his cell phone, turning to face Bobby. “I can get in touch with Henriksen somehow. Turn myself in, ya know. Get some kind of immunity for Sam. I’m the one wanted for the murders. I can tell them I’ll confess to all of it if they give Sammy immunity and let him be treated…”
“Dean-“
“I only got a couple of months left anyway, Bobby. Hellhounds can whisk my ass off to Hell from prison just as well as anywhere, right?”
“That might work. Might not. Big problem is your brother will kill you himself if you do that. He’ll kill me, too for lettin’ you.”
Dean’s voice rose in answer. “Well, he’d have to be awake and alive to do either of those, which means I would have made the right choice!”
Bobby put up placating hands and backed up one step. He’d seen that look in Dean’s eyes before, not too long ago (Well then let it end), and Bobby was no fool. But just because he’d put a bit of distance between himself and Dean, didn’t mean he was going to back down.
“It might come to that, Son. I got one more trick up my sleeve, though. If you want to hear it?” At Dean’s hesitant nod, Bobby continued. “I got this friend, a psychic. She’s real good, too.”
“A psychic?”
“She’d be able to at least confirm whether this was medical or supernatural. We load up on caffeine and drive all night we could make good time.”
Dean didn’t need to hear any more. They had a plan and that was all he needed. He began to pack up the few remaining items in the motel room.
“Save up your strength there, boy. It’s gonna take the both of us to get your brother’s gigantic, unconscious ass back into the car, ya know.”
End Chapter 11
Next Chapter Here: Questhaven 12/12