Chapter eight
Chapter Eight
Sam and his demons descended on the town of Salvation like locusts. They arrived just as the sun went down, the black smoke of their advance blotting out the rising night stars. Quietly they filtered through the town, taking possession of the inhabitants of every house.
Every house but one.
A freshly mowed lawn stretched out beneath Sam’s feet, leading to a dark, quiet all-American house. It had been two years since he’d visited this place. Faint memories, all but buried and fading fast, crossed his conscious mind. Nobody’s dying tonight. Except that demon. That sonnuvabitch ain’t getting any older than tonight, you hear me?” Dean Winchester’s voice in his thoughts. Sam’s protector. It was like a mantra; constant and forceful. Distracting.
He swept the interior with his senses, searching for the child he had come to destroy. It was unlikely that Charlie and Monica had become fully aware of little Rosie’s powers. They had no reason to be afraid; no reason to think that their precious two-year old was in any further danger.
So it was a mild surprise that no one seemed to be home. He ground his teeth in frustration. No one seemed to be home. He knew better.
“Stay back,” he commanded. “I’ll handle this on my own.”
He didn’t bother to disguise the sound of his steps. The weapons of man were crude things, and none were built to stop him. Quickly he climbed the steps to the nursery, and Sam Winchester’s memories guided him to where he needed to go. He could still sense the echoes of Azazel’s presence; it imprinted the house in a way that plaster and new paint could never cover. He stepped into the nursery, white eyes sweeping the empty bed disdainfully.
“They aren’t here, Sam.”
Sam turned towards the voice in the shadows. There was no mistaking it. “Dean. I thought I warned you to stay away.”
Dean leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his jacket pockets as he regarded his brother steadily. “Yeah, well. You know me better than that.”
Sam growled, teeth clenched in fury at Dean’s interference. “Where are they?” he said.
Dean pushed off of the door frame with his shoulder and moved to stand firmly in between Sam and the nursery exit. “Somewhere safe.” He replied. Dean locked eyes with the creature for the first time.
There was no creature inhabiting Sam, simply sharing his space. The being in front of him was Sam. Only … different. Stronger, more powerful. Beautiful. Only those hated white eyes gave Samael’s presence away.
Dean shook his head. He wasn’t here to banter with this monster. He had come to talk to his brother. “You called me, Sammy. Don’t tell me you didn’t want me here.”
Sam’s eyes widened slightly, betraying the slightest hint of shock. “You’re lying.”
Dean stepped forward then, reaching his hand out slowly towards his brother in a gesture of trust. “How do you think I found you?” he asked. “Look for yourself. You can read my mind, right? I’ll prove it to you.” Dean’s skin crawled, every inch of him protesting as the devil drew nearer to him, looming over him, using his brother’s height to his fullest advantage. He felt the electric hum of the power coursing around him. He knew Sam could sense he’d come alone. Alone, and unarmed.
Sam smiled. “Yeah, I can read your mind, Dean. Know what you’re thinking right now?” Dean smiled weakly. Yeah, he knew.
“Oh, shit?” He fired back. No point in lying.
Sam laughed, but it didn’t quite reach those empty white eyes of his. Cold, dead eyes. “Damn straight.” he whispered. He moved until he was almost touching Dean. His gaze flowed smoothly over Dean’s face, and it landed briefly on Dean’s neck, and Dean felt the muscles there tighten under an invisible grip. “You don’t want me in your mind, Dean. It’ll tear you apart. Make you crazy.” He said, and for a moment he almost sounded worried.
Dean held his ground. He knew this could be his one chance, his one opportunity to stop Sam before the devil grew too strong for him; before he did something he’d never forgive himself for - if they lived through this. “I trust you.” He said, and he meant it from the deepest part of his captive soul.
Sam’s uncertainty vanished. “You trust me? You’re a fool, Dean.” he hissed.
Dean smiled. So they tell me. “Yeah yeah, sticks and stones. You wanna get this over with already? You say you’re still my brother, and I trust my brother. And I have proof he called me here. This is your last chance, take it or leave it.” Dean was feeling the pressure around his throat. He wasn’t entirely sure Sam would let him leave, but it was so far, so good on the open hostility front.
Samael, Dean decided, did a decent impression of Sam’s annoyed little bastard face. “Fine,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Pressure clouded Dean’s mind, pushing inward slowly. His temples throbbed in protest, and his constricted throat burned as he gasped for air. Sam’s power leeched into his mind, sifting his thoughts like flour. His stomach lurched painfully as the images began to flow rapidly across his field of vision. It didn’t take long for Sam to find what he was looking for, and as Dean relived the vision, the indifferent, searching feel of the invasive power took on an angry edge.
“When did you see this?” the devil demanded. When Dean couldn’t respond, he shook him roughly, rattling his nerves. “When?”
“Last night!” Dean gasped. The pressure withdrew from Dean’s throat and he drew in great swallows of air, hands resting on his knees, before looking up into his brother’s eyes. “What can I say,” he coughed, “Sam’s visions are never wrong. Looks like you lost yourself a kill.”
The monster howled in rage, released Dean from the grip of the power, and reached to grab him physically instead. He fisted the front of Dean’s shirt and lifted him easily, slamming him into the wall.
This time when the power breached his mind, there was nothing slow about it. It ripped into his consciousness, searing heat flashing through his skull. Sam was going to take it all. “You feel like you have to cheat, Sammy?” Dean ground out. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Real bullets’ll work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. As the memories played across his mind, he felt the sting of betrayal all over again. I think you’re gonna die, Dean - you and every hunter I can find. Dean felt the bullet pierce his skin, gasped as water entered his lungs.
“Remember that, Dean? Trust me now?” Sam turned his face away, shoulders dropping so slightly that Dean thought he was imagining things. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away? Why can’t you just …” He trailed off, and Dean felt the power wane, and he was in control again.
Dean winced at the tone in his baby brother’s voice. Because it was Sam’s voice, even if it wasn’t Sam, even if it wasn’t Sam’s soul. “C’mon, Sammy, you know I can’t.” he whispered. “Come on. Come with me. It’s not too late. We can still fix this.” He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t want to tip the balance between the two beings in front of him. He had to draw Sam out somehow. Sam’s face turned to stare at him, and Dean locked eyes with him firmly, offering no resistance.
He tried to project his deepest thoughts, the core of who he really was. “Look at me, man. I believe in you.” When Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn’t save you. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you. Sam’s familiar features could have been carved from marble, he stood so still, head cocked to the side, listening to Dean’s thoughts.
“Sharing and caring, Dean? That’s not much like you.” He said, and his tone implied indifference, but he made no move to leave, either.
And Dean could still feel the power. Feather light touches filtered through his mind, not searching, just grabbing what he offered. Keep your gutter soul, it’s too tarnished anyway. Their connection strengthened as his brother focused on the memories, and to Dean’s surprise, latent memories of Sam’s began to cross the gap. Let Dean out of his deal. Right. Now. Dean flinched at the sound of the Colt firing, the sight of an innocent girl falling to the ground. Because I couldn’t live with you dead. He fired back. I just need you to drop the act and be my brother again. Sam stepped one step closer, almost as if he was listening harder.
Dean unlocked that final door, the one he sometimes thought he didn’t even have a key for, and sank inward, drowning in the emotion of his final moments, reliving what he’d felt that night the hellhounds had come for him. I couldn't live without you, alright? I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough. I lived my whole life for you and if I had to do it again to bring you back I would, do you hear me?.
His ultimate sacrifice - guided by love so strong that it had kept him moving towards the tree line, away from safety, away from life itself. I'm sorry about the deal and everything that it put you through. But I'm not sorry that I did it. I'm glad it panned out, believe me I'm glad about that, but listen - you're my brother, and I love you. And I'm never, ever going to leave you again. That's a promise.
The man who wasn’t Sam flinched roughly, as though Dean had wounded him. Unguarded, Dean lost his breath in the onslaught of feelings that came back; despair, helplessness so deep and wide that it threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly he was looming over Dean, almost close enough to touch with a flick of the wrist, and the power frantically dove deeper, reaching past Dean’s conscious thought to the painful, suppressed memories below.
Dean choked back a startled yell as he felt the layers peel away. The presence of Samael was everywhere, alien and familiar all at once, surrounding him, invading him, drowning him in the fiery liquid flow of power. “Show me,” Dean heard Sam’s voice say, but he didn’t know what he was looking for, he didn’t know how to help him find it.
“I … I, don’t - I, ah, I can’t, Sam, stop,” he pleaded, panicking. His sanity was fraying, his brother had warned him, and God, he’d actually asked for this.
It became all too clear what his brother was after soon enough. The first scent of smoke in his nostrils turned the contents of his stomach to acid. His eyes swam as the room grew dark; blackness so complete he’d thought he’d never see again filled his field of vision. And the fire. Fire tasting him, devouring him - screaming, he heard screaming, no, he was screaming and -
“I’m sorry,” came Sam’s voice, and it pulled him from the Pit as the power dropped him like a stone, and he fell weakly to the nursery floor, dizzy and covered in sweat, fine tremors running through his muscles. “Fuck, Dean. I’m sorry.” Dean focused his swimming eyes enough to see that Sam was trembling too, but it was hard to name the cause of it. “You never should have …” He turned away from Dean, clenching his fists deliberately. “Don’t you understand?” He whispered. “This is the only way I can keep you safe. I won’t let you go back there, Dean. I won’t.”
Dean scoffed at that. “You really are amazing, you know that?” He stood slowly, bracing himself against the nursery wall for support. “You think I care? You think that’s what this is about? Look around you, Sam! You’re leading an army of demons, for God’s sake! You think this is your destiny? Screw that, alright!? Either be him, or be you, but you can’t have it both ways!”
Dean shook his head sadly, feeling more betrayed than ever. “Besides. My brother would never hook up with the whore that owns my soul.” He said.
Sam’s shoulders tensed instantly. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Dean’s chest gave a satisfied lurch at the sight of the fine tremors running through the muscles of his brother’s clenched fists. Sam was just standing there, staring. For a moment, Dean felt like he was seeing double as his brother’s features blurred, for just a fraction of a second, and Dean thought he saw the slightest glimpse of hazel behind those wide white eyes.
And there it was, just like that. Now you're Samael's greatest weakness, too. And more important than that, you are Sam's greatest power. It was true. Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It meant there was hope. It meant he still had a chance.
The devil turned then, giving Dean one last long look before stalking steadily to the door. Just before leaving, he said, “I’d suggest you stay here until we’ve all left.” His tone was even and low, and, devil or not, Dean knew what it meant. Sam was angry. Someone was going to pay.
Almost as an afterthought, he added, “And Dean? There’s no point in hiding them. I know where they are. I can sense them, you know - the other children, like me.” His voice took on a cold tone that chilled Dean to the bone. “Next time, don’t interfere.”
And with that he was gone, and Dean sank slowly back into the floorboards of Rosie’s nursery, buried his head in his shaking hands, and fought valiantly to hold on to his sanity for one more day.
~*~
Dean waited as long as he thought he could stand it before climbing to his feet and exiting the house. It felt like forever, and he was eager to call Bobby. He desperately wanted someone to talk to - anything to get his mind off of the memories that Sam’s power had stirred up.
Plus, he had a family to warn. They’d barely gotten them out in time as it was - they wouldn’t have gotten far. Bobby had fought like hell against the idea of Dean staying behind alone, but there’d been nothing for it. Once Dean had pointed out that Charlie and Monica would need someone with them to help keep Rosie safe, the older man had grudgingly conceded.
He reached the dark garage and hit the button. He winced at the noise the door made as it rose, but he didn’t see any movement in the driveway or the field across the street. He reached for his jacket pocket, palmed the Impala’s keys, and froze. Knew this was too easy.
Dean felt rather than heard the footsteps behind him, accompanied by a chill and a shudder than ran all the way down his spine.
“What are you doing here, Dean?” came the thick, honeyed voice that haunted his nightmares.
Dean raised his hands to his shoulders, cautiously turning to face Lilith. He tried to keep his voice steady and his expression calm. He tried not to feel the dizzying surge of rage that came every time he so much as thought about her.
“Came to see my brother.”
“I told you, he’s not your brother anymore.” She cocked her head to the side, a familiar gesture that Dean took to mean she was trying to listen to his thoughts. She shook her head slowly in wonder. “Dean. You can’t honestly believe that you can save him from me, can you? After all the things he’s done?”
“That’s not Sam.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, you stubborn, arrogant -“
“Oh, bite me.”
Dean hit the wall as hard as he ever had before. Pain shot up his back and into his head in sharp spikes, and he had to fight hard just to stay conscious.
But he had to fight even harder not to roll his eyes. “Wow, original.” he taunted. Lilith came into view with a satisfied smile curling on her lips.
“Well, I was the first, Dean. Original in every way there is.” Dean’s mouth dropped open, ready to fire off a witty rejoinder, but Lilith’s power wrapped around his arms and legs and spread him wide against the wall.
She trailed her hand across his chest, and he felt heat from her fingertips as her touch seared through his undershirt, laying his chest bare. She smiled low and dangerous, leaning in close. “Ever heard of original sin?” She whispered.
He was vulnerable, exposed. He tried to block the feel of her hands on his skin, her power rubbing up around him like an overheated electric blanket. “Get your filthy hands off me,” he growled. She only laughed at him. The sound reminded him of spiders weaving deadly silken webs in the dark. “Why is it you demons always gotta touch the merchandise? I mean, give a guy his privacy!”
“Oh, Dean. You really are something … special, do you know that?” She shook her head, her full red lips turning to a thoughtful pout. “Of course you don’t.” she added. He seethed at the pitying tone in her voice. She reached into thin air, and from the shadows she drew out the Book. She tucked her body into his, bringing them cheek to cheek as she held the Book high so that he could see.
“Look, see?” She sounded as though she was speaking to a child. Dean struggled to move, fighting down the urge to be sick at the closeness of her. Her long finger lovingly traced the edges of the ancient tome as she flipped to the page she was searching for. “Ah, there you are,” she crooned with delight.
Dean’s eyes were drawn to the page immediately. His chest clenched in fearful anticipation as he searched the columns. In the third column, about halfway down the page, he found it.
Dean Winchester. May second, two thousand and eight.
It scrolled across the black page in bright crimson, and for some reason it cemented his situation that much more firmly in Dean’s mind. Even when he’d been in Hell, he’d never felt as damned as this. Lilith’s voice filtered slowly through his tunnel vision. “See?”
Dean forced a short, barking laugh. “Hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but that’s not my Hancock.”
“No,” she said, “but that’s your blood.” She moved then, lifting from the wall and coming to stare right in his face. “We get it when you check in downstairs.” Dean’s stomach turned at her bored expression as she flicked her delicate wrists and sent the Book away.
“Fine, I’m in your little bedtime story, what now? Gonna take it all back?” His eyes narrowed. Was that a flinch? An idea was forming deep inside, underneath all the pain and desperation. Maybe there was a way to get out of this after all - maybe there was a way to get them both out.
He planned his words carefully, dropping them like stones, gauging every detail of her response. “After all, I skipped out on you. Messed up your plan.” She had grown quiet, and the idea was getting stronger. “See, us humans, we can break the rules and screw the consequences. You demons - not so much, am I right?”
Angry heat rolled from Lilith, and the pressure holding him to the wall increased painfully. “Shut up.” She hissed.
Dean wanted to laugh. “Hey, I’m worried for you is all. This puts you in an awkward position.” He felt a smug, satisfied grin spread slowly across his face. “So? What’s the plan, Lil? Send me back to Hell, and Sam’ll feed you your intestines nice and slow.”
From the way her face paled, he guessed he wasn’t far off the mark on that. He didn’t want to believe Sam capable of such a calculated murder, demon or no demon, but there wasn’t time to worry about things like that right now.
“Stick to the contract, and Sam dies.” he pushed. “Huh. Bet that really puts a kink in your take-over-the-world plan, doesn’t it?”
She started violently then, and her palm began to glow brightly at her side. “I said shutup,” she hissed. Her fist clenched tightly over the pulse of power, and her arm shook as she tried to hold it in. “I own you, and what I do with you is my choice, no one else’s!”
Dean grinned brightly through clenched teeth as sweat began to bead on his forehead. For one blissful moment, he didn’t care what more she did to him. He just wanted to see her lose control.
“So do somethin’, bitch.”
She hissed in incoherent rage and raised her glowing palm, extending her arm towards Dean.
“I wouldn’t.”
Sam’s voice was pitched low and it reverberated smooth as silk off the darkened walls. Dean wasn’t sure if he should be relived or terrified at the way Sam was holding himself; loose and easy, relaxed. The average person may mistake the stance as non-threatening. Dean knew different.
Lilith froze in mid-reach, her white eyes wide and her skin growing even paler as she wilted underneath Sam’s dark gaze. Sam was staring at her with great interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into a somewhat bemused grin.
His eyes flicked to Dean for less time than the beat of a hummingbird’s wing, and the power holding Dean vanished instantly, dropping him heavily to the ground. Dean opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment, but thought the better of it when he looked at the pair of them.
It was like being a kitten in between two circling pit bulls.
Sam broke the silence first. “There you are,” he crooned, his voice sultry and sweet but his expression staying just the same. “I was looking for you.” There was no mistaking the threat being offered, at least not for Dean, but Lilith seemed to relax and dropped her glowing palm - light quickly fading - to her side. “You shouldn’t run off like that,” he murmured, “in your condition.”
She took a breath and settled herself. It reminded Dean of a bird ruffling its mussed feathers back into place. She smiled coyly, holding out her hand to Sam. “Dean and I were just discussing some personal business,” she said. “Why don’t you join us?” Her blood red lips pursed into a pout.
Dean groaned inwardly. Lying skank.
Sam never took his eyes off of Lilith, but his lips gave a small jerk and his dimples showed for a brief instant. All of the moisture in Dean’s mouth dried up. If Sam was still listening to his thoughts, then he was screwed beyond belief.
Sam held out his hand. Lilith moved to take it in her own, but before she could, Sam gestured slightly and the Book appeared in his broad palm. She froze instantly.
“Doing some reading? I love books,” Sam offered.
Dean suppressed the urge to snicker. Lilith took a step backwards.
Sam matched her step for step, following until she was backed up against the same wall she had been holding Dean captive against. “Is there anything in this book I should know about?” he asked.
She began to tremble then, and she shook her head a fraction of an inch. Sam’s eyes narrowed.
Suddenly the air around Dean took on an electric charge. Gravity was bending around him, crushing his chest. The air in the garage darkened, and the acid reef of sulfur assaulted his senses. He closed his eyes against the stinging sensation.
“Dean?” It was a command and a request at once, but Dean knew what it meant.
“Yeah, Sammy.” He choked out. Please man, just come with me, don’t do whatever this is, we can still fix this.
If Sam heard him, he didn’t respond. Dark power began to flow from Sam, filling the empty spaces around them until Dean couldn’t breathe. Lilith’s face grew defiant. Dean knew instinctively that if he stayed for this little lovers spat, he would be incinerated.
“Leave.” Sam growled.
Against all his better judgment, Dean left.
Chapter nine