fic: i believe in nothing but the beating of our hearts (1/2)
Title: I Believe In Nothing But The Beating of Our Hearts
Rating: PG-13/ Gen
Word Count: 11,535
Disclaimer: Kripke's world, my imagination. Fic title comes from the the 30 Seconds To Mars song 100 Suns
Summary: Dean couldn't believe this was happening, that he could be, finally getting his Sammy back.
Warnings: Swearing, general spoilers for season 6, lots and lots of brotherly schmoop (that's really more of an enticement, really)
A/N: I started writing this months ago, before Winter Hellatus, back in about October. So it's a bit of an AU certain characters are still alive in my fic. Long story short, a good chunk of my fic got Kripke'd. Whatevs.
Sam had been out of hell for 18 months.
He had been with Dean for 7 of those months, give or take.
Dean hasn’t seen his brother, his Sammy in almost two years.
It was like Stanford all over again but only worse because now, he couldn’t just get drunk and forget about having a brother for a night because Sam was always there. On the laptop, in the passenger seat, next to him while working a case. Sam was just…there.
Sam was there. But Sammy wasn’t.
Add that to losing the one bit of normality he ever had and being a demon’s bitch boy, and Dean was just fucking tired.
Dean had just finished cleaning the guns and slipped into his bed when Crowley had decided that he wanted “his grunts out on the field” again, popping into their room in Madison, Minnesota at 6 am with a newspaper clipping and a story about a man slaughtering his family (read: ripped them to shreds and ate them for dinner and saved some for desert).
“Werewolf attack. His name’s Andrew James, he’s still on the loose not too far from here, up in Odessa. Up and at ’em boys, I want this one. Alive this time, if you please.”
Dean was about to tell him to shove it up his ass, but by the time he looked up, Crowley was gone. “Fuck…” Dean groaned out, dropping backwards onto the pillows and covering his face with his hands. Sam walked over and picked up the clipping from Dean’s bed, “At least this time it actually is a werewolf attack, and not another case of Kujo the killer pet. Why don’t you get onto the research and I’ll-”
“No.” Dean said shortly. He sat up on the bed and grabbed the clipping out of Sam’s hand, glancing over it quickly before looking up, “I’ll go to the town. You stay here and see what you can dig up.”
“But Dean-”
“Sam. You may be Terminator Hunter, but I’m still the big brother and what I say goes, got it.”
Sam didn’t answer him, just ran his hand through his hair and clenched his fists at his side.
“Sam.”
“Yeah Dean, I got it.” Sam bit out, walking over to the small table in the corner of the room they were staying in and dropped into one of the seats, the old wood of the chair creaking in protest.
“It’s only like 40 minutes away; I’ll call you if anything, k?”
“Yeah Dean, sure. I’ll let you know if I find something.” Sam mumbled back, booting up the laptop and strumming his fingers against the table while waiting.
Dean didn’t want to leave it like that, but he didn’t want to get into it again with Sam, so he just nodded to himself, grabbed his jacket and keys and left quietly.
He pretended to not hear the laptop slamming shut hard enough to break it in two.
**
After an hour of scouring the town and asking questions, Sam called him and told him the street Andrew James lived on. Dean had to do some serious guilt-tripping to get Sam to just stay the fuck in the motel room (and it’s not exactly the easiest thing ever to guilt someone when they have no soul) but after that, it was cake.
Dean actually found James’ house pretty quickly. It’s kind of hard to miss a house that had bloody streaks on the stairs and fingerprints on the door (even though, okay, they were pretty damn hard to see while driving by. But after doing it for more than 20 years, it was like a neon sign for him).
Dean thought about calling Sam and telling him that he had found James’ house. His finger hovered over the 2 button to speed dial Sam, but then he just put his phone away, grabbed his gun from the glove compartment, made sure he had a round of silver bullets, and went in alone.
The smell of blood and death instantly hit him and he swallowed against the urge to gag. His eyes traced the trail of blood leading out of the foyer and behind a door at the end of the hall. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was going to be behind door number one.
Dean pulled his gun out, checked the clip again and then went over to the door, opening it slowly. There were three bodies on the floor, a woman, and two little kids, a boy and a girl. Dean’s grip on his gun tightened. After all this time hunting, kids were always the thing that got to him the most.
He was about to search the rest of the house when something moved out of the corner of his eye. He raised his gun and pulled the hammer back, “Move and I shoot, Andrew.”
“P-please….please j-just kill…kill me. I-I don’t deserve t-to live.”
Dean didn’t lower his gun, but he walked over slowly. The closer he got, the better he could see. Andrew was sitting curled in a ball in the very back corner of the room. There was blood splattered on the carpet around him and streaks of it on the wall near him and on most of his skin.
“M-my family…I…please, just d-do it.”
Dean sighed and lowered his gun to his side. “I’m not going to kill you, Andrew.”
“Why not!? Please…I don’t want…I can’t, not without them…” The man in front of him curled into a ball and cried onto his knees, trembling.
Dean looked him over before glancing back down at the gun in his hand. He knew Crowley wanted Andrew, knew that Crowley was going to torture him for information on the Alpha and purgatory, but it was obvious to Dean that Andrew knew nothing and really just…wanted to die.
“I’m sorry.” Dean said quietly, bringing his gun up and pulling the trigger.
“Now Dean, didn’t I say I wanted this one alive?”
Dean whipped around and saw Crowley standing in the center of the room, gripping Andrew by the bicep while he cowered on the ground next to him.
Dean glanced behind him and saw that it was, in fact, devoid of the werewolf before turning back to Crowley and clicking the safety on his gun, storing it in the back of his jeans.
“He doesn’t know shit, Crowley, it’s obvious. Just let him die like he wants to.” Dean growled out angrily.
Crowley tutted at him like he was a child and snapped his fingers, making Andrew disappear.
“He knows everything Dean, that’s why I wanted him. He was turned by the Alpha. Torture him long enough and his sire’s bound to come by eventually.” Crowley told him matter-of-factly. “This is the Alpha I wanted. I’ve been looking for ones he’s personally turned for months now.”
“Well, good for you, that’s just awesome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back before Robocop goes AWOL on me.”
“About that…I don’t think you need to worry about him leaving. He’ll be too busy trying to not rip his brain out. Or his heart, if you want to get technical.”
“Wait…what.” Dean took a step closer to Crowley, tilting his head towards the demon, “Run that last part by me again? After all these years of gunfire, my hearing’s kinda shot.”
Crowley rolled his eyes and sat down at the table nearby, completely careless of the three corpses at his feet.
“I’m feeling generous, and hey, I actually kinda have a soft spot for you and your moose. You know the powers I possess…well, more or less, and I know just what strings I’ll need to pull if I need your help again. So, for now, Sammy’s off the hook…or rack, whatever.”
“H-how do I know this isn’t a trick?” Dean asked him, gritting his teeth in anger. It just…couldn’t be this easy, could it? After all these months, just…bam?
“You have my word on this, Dean.”
“Demons lie.”
“Don’t clump me with the rest of those halfwit animals, that’s insulting. I say you have my word, and so, you do. Your dear ole Sammy now has his soul back.”
Before Dean could say anyt
hing, Crowley stood up, fixing his coat and walking towards the door, “We’ll be in touch.” Dean blinked, and he was gone.
He stood there for a minute looking at nothing before shaking his head slightly and running back out to the car. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that he could actually have his Sammy back. He was backing out of the James’ driveway when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He jumped slightly before digging it out of his pocket. Sam it read, and his hand suddenly began trembling.
“Sam?”
“D-Dean.
Dean had to force himself to not breakdown then and there. He hadn’t heard Sam say his name like that since Lucifer had him up against the hood of the Impala over a year ago.
“Sam, h-hey. Um…Crowley he…he uh, he said he gave you your…soul back.”
Instead of answering, Dean just heard labored breathing on the other end and a grunt of pain.
“Sam?”
“Dean…it hurts. P-please…”
Shit. “Sam, I’ll be there as soon as I can, just hang on.”
“Hurry.” Sam breathed out before the line went dead.
Dean apologized to the car in his head and then yelled for Castiel to get his fucking ass down there before pushing his foot down on the pedal as hard as he could.
**
It took about 45 minutes to get to Odessa. It took Dean a little over 15 minutes to get back to Sam
.
He was surprised he got there completely unscathed seeing as how the whole time, his mind was just a constant litany Sammy could really be back and Cas please, we need you.
It was just his luck that the only parking spot was on the other side of the lot, but Dean just ripped the keys out of the ignition and ran to their door, almost dropping them in his hurry to just fucking get to Sam.
He shoved the door open and looked around the empty room.
“Sam? Sam!”
He heard a something break in the bathroom and made his way towards it, nudging the door open.
“Sam? Oh god…” The vanity mirror above the sink was smashed, cracks spidering out from a hit in the middle, pieces of glass in the sink and on the ground, splatters of red all around.
The small bar on the wall to hold towels was ripped out of the drywall, dangling inches off the ground, and then there was Sam. he was curled into a ball in the corner of the bathtub gripping his head, hands threaded so tightly through his hair Dean was sure there were going to be strands of hair in his fists. Dean saw smears of blood on the edges of the tub and on various places of his clothes. Sam’s phone was on the ground, the battery and face plate strewn across the floor. Dean figured that was what he heard break.
“Sam, it’s okay, I’m here.” Dean told him, walking over to the bathtub and crouching down.
“N-no…you’re not…you can’t b-be…Nononono-”
“Sam, you need to snap out of it. I know this place is crappy, but this isn’t hell. Sam, please. You need to listen to me. Sam…Sammy.”
Dean reached over and closed his hands over Sam’s fists, thumbs rubbing back and forth to try and calm him down enough to stop trembling while at the same time, they were trying to get him to let go of his head.
“D-Dean…?”
“Yeah Sammy, it’s me. You called me before, remember? And I told you about Crowley? He gave you your soul back. You’re not in hell, you’re here. With me.” Dean said quietly.
Sam stopped shaking and Dean felt the grip under his loosen slightly.
“That’s it Sammy, c’mon, s’ok. I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dean…it…it hurts.”
“I know Sammy. Dammit Cas, please, we need you. Sam and I need you.”
“C-Cas?”
“Yeah Sammy, if he could get his angelic butt down here, he might be able to help you out a bit.”
“W-what’s happening Dean…”
Crowley’s voice suddenly rang out in his head ‘He’ll be too busy trying to not rip his brain out. Or his heart, if you want to get technical’.
“You haven’t felt anything in almost two years, Sam.”
Dean bit off a curse as Castiel suddenly appeared next to them, head tilted in curiosity.
“About damn time.”
“I didn’t need to come here Dean, I trust you understand that.”
“Yeah, whatever, what the hell is going on with Sam?”
“Crowley returned Sam’s soul to him…but with that also comes two years’ worth of feelings; emotions, pain, guilt, everything he’s gone through since Lucifer inhabited his body, it’s all coming back and flooding into him at once. And that’s just his body, not his actual soul, which has been in the cage with Michael and Lucifer, who had nothing else to occupy their time with but him.”
“But…couldn’t that-”
“Kill him, yes, which is why I came. I cannot stop what he is going through, but I can lessen its impact. This isn’t going to be easy, Dean. It’s going to take some time.”
Dean remained quiet and turned back to Sam, whose hands were now gripping Dean’s fingers in between his own, still holding his head and whimpering every now and then.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Sammy back to normal, Cas, you should know that.”
“I do, Dean.”
“Good,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes briefly before glancing back up to Castiel. “So…how’re you planning on helping him exactly?”
“I can slow it down marginally. It will take a bit longer for him to feel everything that has happened over the last year and a half, but at least this way, it will be a bit more manageable for his body.”
“How long then?” Dean asked impatiently, squeezing Sam’s fingers every time he shivered in the tub.
“Three days.”
“Three days? Sammy has to go through this for three days?! What the fuck, Cas-”
“D-Dean…” Sam whispered, pulling everyone’s attention towards him
.
“Yeah Sammy, what is it?”
Sam slowly pulled their hands away from his head, hands and arms shaking. It was the first time Dean really got a look at his face and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or summon Crowley and kill his demonic ass once and for all.
Sam’s eyes were dull, almost gray, and the skin around them was red and puffy, tear tracks evident on his cheeks and his still-wet eyelashes. Dried blood was smeared under his nose and around his mouth, his lips chapped and bleeding in places and Dean had flashes of almost three years ago when they trapped Sam in the panic room, hyped up on bitch blood.
“Dean…please, j-just let him do wh-whatever he needs to do…I-I can’t…I can’t take th-this much. Please.”
Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, searching. Sam’s entire body would not stop trembling, but when their eyes met, Sam’s gaze was steady, strong.
Dean nodded and looked up at Castiel, “Okay…help him.”
Castiel looked over the brothers before nodding, taking off his trench coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Dean began to move away to give the angel some room, but Sam’s grip on his hand tightened to almost painful, and so Dean did the next best thing.
“Move over, sasquatch.” Dean stood and helped Sam scoot towards the middle of the tub, the whole time holding his hand. Dean squeezed in behind his brother, legs bracketing Sam in, and then reached around Sam to grab his other hand. The tub could barely hold Sam as it was, but Dean was determined to make it work.
“It’s gunna be ok, Sam, I promise.”
Sam nodded and learned the hard way that that was not the best idea he ever had. Pain ratcheted through his head and down to his very core and he just wanted it to fucking stop. He hadn’t felt pain that badly since…Hell
It was like Hell all over again.
Or…maybe it was Hell and this was all some fucked up trick Lucifer was doing to pass the time.
It wouldn’t be the first time Lucifer made Sam think he was back with Dean.
That had to be it, it was a hallucination. Which meant he was still in the cage and he just needed to wake the fuck up before it got to him too much.
“Fuck, just stop. I know this isn’t r-real you fucking prick, so just stop!” Sam yelled, thrashing in Dean’s grip and trying to pull away.
The pain just kept coming in waves and he felt as if he was two seconds away from throwing up, but he had to get away, he needed to wake up.
“Sam, Sammy, calm down, it’s me. You’re not dreaming and this is real. Please! Sam!” Dean tightened his arms and locked his legs around Sam, grunting with the effort to keep his huge younger brother steady.
“Fuckin’ A, Cas, just do whatever the hell it is you need to do to stop him before he kills himself!” Dean grits out, hissing in pain when Sam head-butts him.
“Hold him still.”
“I’m trying here, in case you didn’t fucking notice.”
Castiel knelt next to them and, without preamble, shoved his hand into Sam’s gut. Sam’s thrashing got worse and his swearing at Lucifer became screams and cries for help.
“Dean, he needs to stay still.” Castiel told him, staring intently at Sam’s stomach where his arm was buried.
“This is as still as he’s gunna get, Cas! He doesn’t even know what’s real right now, I highly doubt he’s gunna do us the favor of not moving.”
Dean tightened his hold further and whispered into Sam’s ear to calm down and believe it was really him.
“Sammy, please. I know what you’re feeling right now, I do. But you need to believe me that this is real. Remember the last year; you were here, with me. And Crowley? All that really happened. Me and Cas, we’re trying to help you. Let us help you.”
Sam slowly stopped pulling against Dean and instead began pushing into him, trying to get away from Castiel.
“H-hurts…”
“I know Sammy, it’s almost over, I swear.” Dean looked up to Castiel and the angel nodded in agreement. After a few more seconds, Sam stopped moving all together and Cas withdrew his hand.
“I-is that it?”
“For now, yes. I have done all I can for him.”
“Good. That’s good, right Sammy?” Dean looked down and Sam was completely unresponsive.
“Sammy?” Dean shook him gently, but Sam’s head simply lolled on his shoulder, completely lax in Dean’s grip.
“Cas, what-”
“His body is exhausted, Dean. And not only from what I just did. Remember, he hasn’t slept since coming back. I’m surprised he’s stayed conscious this long as is.”
“So what, I just sit here waiting for him to wake up?”
Castiel grabbed his coat off of the ground and stood, “There is little else that can be done for him Dean. He is in such a deep sleep that he is almost in a coma. Waking him is ill advised. His body is so passed the point of exhaustion that it could harm him further if you wake him. So yes, waiting is your only option.”
Dean looked back down at Sam and swiped the hair out of his face. “Fine, then can you help me-” Dean looked up and Cas was gone. “…With Sam.”
Dean sighed and ran his hand over his face. “You live to make my life difficult, huh kid?”
He pushed and pulled Sam’s body until Sam was lying in the tub, head crooked in an angle against the wall, and Dean climbed out of it, staring down at his unmoving form.
Dean reached over and laid his hand flat on Sam’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Dean stayed like that for a minute before heading out of the room and over to the beds, turning down the closer one and grabbing Sam’s duffel from the corner of the room, pulling out Sam’s favorite t-shirt and sweatpants.
He then went back into the bathroom, “Might as well get it over with.” He sighed, crouching by the tub and wrapping Sam’s arm over his shoulders and grabbing Sam around his middle, lifting him out of the tub.
“Fucking hell dude, you’re so gunna lay off the fucking ‘roids when you wake your big ass up.”
He had to lean against the wall to keep his knees from buckling under two hundred pounds of his little brother’s body and slowly made his way across the small bathroom, careful to steer clear of the shards of glass on the floor.
Dean gently laid Sam’s head down on the pillow and crouched down to pull off his shoes and socks and then reached up to unbuckle his jeans and pull them off. His body was slowly going into autopilot as he methodically slipped sweatpants onto Sam’s legs and unbuttoned his plaid shirt, leaving him in a gray tee that had splatters of blood on it still.
Dean sat on the bed next to his brother, turned the tv on low and reached over to grab Sam’s wrist, thumb rubbing calming circles over the thin skin on the inside.
He was tired, exhausted even, but no way in hell was he going to get any sleep tonight. Sam’s pained groans and whimpers solidified that fact.
Besides, he was well rested compared to his baby brother.
Baby brother. He hadn’t thought that of Sam in well over a year. Because he wasn’t his baby brother, he was just RoboSam, a stranger in a familiar body.
But now he was back and now Dean got to get back into the role he’s known since he was four years old.
Protect Sammy.
**
It was around 2am that Sam began panting in his sleep, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow and his eyes tightly screwed shut.
Dean dropped the remote and reached over to push Sam’s hair out of his face and was shocked to feel the warmth that was radiating from his brother’s skin before he even made contact.
When Dean laid his hand on Sam’s forehead he hissed at the heat coming off of his little brother and sprung off of the bed and into the bathroom, soaking one of the threadbare towels with cold water, squeezing out the excess before returning to place it on Sam’s forehead.
Now that Dean paid closer attention, Sam’s entire t-shirt was soaked with sweat and, after laying his palm flat on Sam’s chest, he realized Sam’s heart was racing.
fucking perfect, Dean thought, this is exactly what we needed, for him to have a fever on top of everything else that’s going on. Nothing else can fucking go wrong.
And that’s when Sam began yelling.
“No, stop, please! I-I’m sorry, just-ahhh!”
“Sammy, please, you hafta…you need to stop.”
“No! nononono!”
Sam went clear past yelling and began screaming for help.
“This is not good, this is so so so not good.” Dean mumbled to himself as he tried in vain to stop Sam’s screaming.
It was obvious he was having a nightmare, a bad one. Dean knew all too well about how scarring a trip downstairs was. But compared to Sam’s, well, his stay was like a paid vacation.
And unlike Sam, Dean was able to wake up from the things that haunted his mind. But for now, Sam was trapped in his subconscious, his body’s need for sleep trumping everything else, giving his nightmares full reign.
Sam soon began thrashing his entire body around and Dean had to straddle him to keep him from falling off of the bed
.
“Dammit Sam, you need to calm down. Please. I know you can hear me. It’s not real.”
“Please, just, Dean. DEAN!”
Dean’s eyes began to well up as he continued to try and help his brother. If Sam was yelling his name now, then that must mean that Sam was yelling for him in the cage too.
Just like Dean had yelled for Sam when he was in the pit.
HELP! NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME! SAM! SAM!!
“DEAN. God, please!”
“Sam. Sam! I need you to stop-” Dean was cut off by banging on the door and someone ordering for them to open up.
He ignored it and went back to trying to calm his brother, but the banging was incessant and Dean growled as gently untangled himself from his brother and stalked over to the door, ripping it open just enough to keep Sam hidden.
“What the fuck is going on in here?!” The man, whom Dean recognized as the owner, asked angrily, keychain dangling from his fist.
Dean realized it was a good thing he opened the door himself before the owner barged in on them. That would have made this whole thing a million times worse.
“I’m sorry i-it’s my brother. He uh, he’s sick and…he has PTSD. He was, ya know, in the war. And sometimes he just gets these night terrors. It’s not a big deal, really. Sorry for waking you up.”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t care if your brother is about to keel over, I want you gone. I’ve had more complaints about this room all day than I’ve had in years, so get the hell out!”
Dean hadn’t been this close to killing a human in ages, but he was willing to make an exception.
“Dean…!”
“We’re going.” Dean growled out, slamming the door in the owner’s face and grabbing the closet duffel, shoving all of their things into it as quickly as possible, mentally flipping off the owner and deciding that no way in hell was he paying the 100 bucks for the room.
“I’m right here, Sammy, I swear. It’s gunna be okay.”
Dean silently thanked his father for his drill sergeant ways because in less than three minutes, Dean had everything packed and had scoured the room twice.
“I’ll be right back, Sammy.” Dean said quietly as Sam began whimpering again before tearing out of the room and running across the parking lot to the car. He threw the bags in the backseat and sped over to their room, throwing open the passenger door and running back inside to grab Sam.
Sam groaned in protest at being moved, but Dean continued blathering on about everything and anything, pretty sure that just the sound of his voice was bringing at least minimal comfort to Sam
Dean wrapped his leather jacket around Sam’s shaking form before sitting him gently in the passenger seat. When Dean got back into the driver’s seat, he reached over and pulled Sam down, resting his head on his lap and running his fingers through Sam’s sweat-dampened hair.
After a few minutes, Sam seemed to have calmed down some and was now totally lost in his dreams. Dean removed his hand from Sam’s head and leaned over to his grab his phone for his coat pocket. Quickly jabbing 3 on the phone, Dean sped down the road waiting for an answer.
”Dean? What the hell is the matter that you need to call me at three in the damn morning?”
“Bobby…I-it’s Sam.”
Dean heard rustling and could instantly hear the change in the man’s voice.
”What happened, is everything-“
“Crowley gave him back his soul…it’s Sammy, Bobby, really Sammy this time.”
Bobby sighed in relief, “That’s great boy, you two should come on over in a few-”
“See uh, Bobby, that’s kind of the thing. We’re on our way there now. It’s um… it’s not as simple as it sounds.”
“How long?”
“We’re in Madison, Minnesota, so the drive is about two and half hours.”
“See you in an hour then.”
Dean just closed his phone and pushed the Impala to 120mph, returning his hand to his brother’s hair.
Dean pulled into Bobby’s yard just a little after 4am and he had the suspicion that someone had made sure no cops were around to see him pushing 140.
**
Bobby was already at Sam’s door by the time Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and together they got Sam out of the car and into the house.
The moment they put Sam down on the couch (Dean didn’t want to even try lifting Sam’s heavy ass all the way to the bedroom) Dean sat on the arm of it, immediately sinking his hand into Sam’s hair and pushing it back, gently massaging his head, something Dean quickly learned was an instant way to calm Sam’s trembling.
Bobby raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word, instead heading back out to grab the boys’ duffel bags and then going into the kitchen to grab both Dean and himself cups of coffee.
When he got back to the living room, Bobby noticed Dean was now sitting on the couch, Sam’s head on his lap, one hand in Sam’s hair, the other resting on his chest, protective, claiming, over Sam’s heart.
Bobby put the cup of coffee down on the table next to Dean and sat in the chair across from the brothers, taking a long swallow of coffee before beginning.
“So…wanna fill in the details now, boy?”
Dean’s eyes flickered up to Bobby’s before returning to Sam, his eyes flying over every inch of Sam’s body, over and over as if he hadn’t seen him in forever. Which, well, is kind of true for Dean.
“We uh…Crowley had a case for us, but I went at it alone, a werewolf. I didn’t go through with killing it and Crowley appeared, finished the job for me. After that, he went on and on about some stupid shit and then he uh…well, he gave Sammy his soul back.”
“That doesn’t explain why-”
Dean cut him off, speaking on autopilot.
“When I was leaving, Sammy called me in pain and I gunned it back to the motel. Cas was there, said he could help. Said he could lessen the pain for Sam, but that it would still take a few days.”
“Lessen the pain?”
“His soul’s been in the pit for over a year, while his body’s been here. So everything that’s happened since then, both in Hell and here is coming back at once. So all the shit he went through there physically and um, all the emotional crap from the last year is hitting him now in one shot. All that alone would most likely kill him, so Cas did…something so he could get it all in waves, I guess.”
“So then what, Castiel put up like a wall or something to block it out?”
Dean nodded and finally looked up at Bobby, “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s still bad. I-I dunno just how much he can take, Bobby. And it’s only been a few hours.”
“It’ll be okay, Dean. Sam’s a strong kid, we both know that. And when it’s all over, we’ll have our Sam back, alright? Just think of it like that.” Bobby was waiting for Dean to make a smart-ass remark at the way Bobby was coddling him, but none ever came. Dean just nodded again and looked back down at his brother, hand tightening marginally over Sam’s chest, the t-shirt material bunching around his loose fist.
It broke his heart to see Dean this way, so lost and unsure of what the hell is going to happen. Bobby knew Dean, and so he knew Dean hated not knowing just what was going to happen, especially when it concerned his brother.
Bobby Singer always had a soft spot for the Winchester boys, ever since he first saw a five-year-old Sammy gripping a nine-year-old Dean’s hand when John first brought them to Sioux Falls.
Hunters didn’t do kids. Period. But John Winchester had two and he owed John a favor.
The boys had been family ever since, especially once John was gone and the boys needed someone to fall back on. For all intents and purposes, Sam and Dean were his boys and right now they needed him.
Bobby drained his cup and went to put it in the sink, coming back with an old, holey blanket that he draped over Sam and handing Dean some pills and a water bottle to give Sam for his fever.
“Thanks Bobby.”
Bobby nodded before glancing at the wall clock, realizing it was almost 5am.
“Why don’t you get some sleep, Dean, I’m sure Sam-”
“No.”
“But Dean, nothing-”
“No, Bobby. I’m not leaving his side and I’m not falling asleep. I’m okay; I don’t need it, not tired anyways. I just…I gotta be here for Sam, alright?”
Bobby sighed but agreed, deciding there was nothing that could be done for the moment. He told Dean that he was going to go back to sleep, but instead he went into his study, pulling out every book he could mental and physical harm that could come to a soul.
**
By nine pm, Sam had had five screaming fits (or ‘episodes’ as Dean and Bobby were now referring to them), the last one going on for so long that Sam’s body wore out and stopped mid-scream, passing out in Dean’s arms, tears still streaming down his face. By then they realized Sam’s voice was beyond hoarse and Dean worried that anymore yelling could seriously injure Sam’s throat, just adding onto the already infinite amount of worry Dean had for his brother.
During the day, Bobby managed to get Dean to eat something, get tea down Sam’s throat along with the pills to help him, and get Dean to take what was probably the quickest shower known to man. Dean had gone, washed, and came back in jeans that were too long and an inside out t-shirt in less than four minutes, his hair still wet and standing up in a million directions. The neck of his shirt was slowly dampening from the drops of water falling out of his hair, but Dean didn’t mind it, just lifted Sam’s head gently to take his position back on the couch, hands instantly going to Sam’s hair and Sam’s heart. Bobby didn’t miss how Sam’s breathing evened out and his eyelids stopped fluttering.
Bobby also didn’t miss how worn down Dean was. He had no idea when was the last time Dean had slept, let alone ingested something that wasn’t toast or coffee. His stubble was becoming more prominent and as the hours ticked by, the circles under his eyes darkened.
“Dean...ya gotta take care of yourself too, boy.”
Dean just grunted in response and smoothed Sam’s new t-shirt down -before taking a shower, Dean made sure to take care of Sam first-.
“I’m fine Bobby, don’t worry about me-”
“The hell I will. You’re no good to Sam if you run yourself ragged!”
Bobby guessed that if he didn’t have a lap full of baby brother right now, Dean would probably be up in his face. A sleep-deprived Dean was usually a grouchy Dean. Adding onto the fact that his brother was in unfathomable pain, both mental and physical, and Dean was practically a ticking time bomb.
Bobby sighed before getting up and leaving the room, heading back into his study even though he had no real idea of what to even do anymore.
“How’s Sammy doing? Bit peaky, eh?”
Bobby’s eyes flew to the armchair in the corner of the room to see Crowley sitting there, legs crossed, and smiling without a care in the world, smug almost.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Bobby asked angrily, pulling a gun out of his vest.
“You hunters sure are a trusting bunch. I bet you even sewed a gun holster into your pj’s.”
Bobby pointed the pistol at the demon’s head, “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”
“Testy, testy. No need to get your trucker hat in a bunch, Robert, I’m just here to see my boys, paying a friendly house visit to my employees, if you will.”
“We’re not your fucking employees, Crowley.”
Both men turned around to see Dean in the doorway, gun trained on Crowley, jaw clenched tightly.
“Dean! Nice of you to join us, I was just going to come looking for-”
“Cram it, Crowley. I don’t give a rat’s ass about whatever it is you have to say to me, we’re done.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow and in a blink of an eye, he was inches away from Dean, smug smile still plastered on his face.
“We’re done when I say we’re done, Dean.”
Dean raised his gun, pressing it against Crowley’s forehead, “We.Are.Done, Crowley.
”
“You do realize I could kill you, Sam and Bobby by just snapping my fingers, right?”
Dean said nothing, opting to instead cock the hammer on his gun.
“I need you to do something for me, Dean-”
“No.”
Crowley’s smile returned, “I never said you had a choice. But, I’m guessing you need incentive.” Crowley’s eyes focused behind Dean and then they heard it- Sam crying out for help.
Dean lowered his gun but before he could even move, Crowley tilted his head, sending Dean flying across the room and pinning him against the wall while Sam continued screaming.
“Don’t even think of moving to help either.” Crowley told Bobby before walking across the room slowly towards a struggling Dean. “Now that I have your attention, I need you, Dean; nothing major, just…a cleanup. You won’t even need to leave South Dakota.”
“God, fine, whatever. Just leave my brother the hell alone!” Dean growled out.
“Good man.” Crowley snapped his fingers and there was a muffled thump in the other room, but Sam’s screams finally stopped.
“Bobby, go check on Sammy.”
“What did I say, Dean-”
“I don’t fucking care! I’m yours, Crowley; I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Now let Bobby go help my brother or I swear to God, I will not fucking stop until I find a way to kill you.”
Crowley didn’t respond, but Dean suddenly dropped to the ground, the hold on him disappearing, and Bobby took it as an okay to go check on Sam.
“Now, back to business. Not too far away from here is a Rawhead. Already killed four children. And I want its daddy.”
Dean hated the thought of leaving Sam behind, but he knew if he didn’t, they’d both be worse off.
“Fine, where?”
“Just down in Augustana.”
Dean stood up and hit the safety lock on the gun, “I swear, you do anything while I’m gone, I’ll-”
“I won’t touch him. Scout’s honor. Just do what I want.”
Dean didn’t answer, just walked away and down the hallway, back to Sam, Crowley was gone before he left the room.
“He alright?” Dean asked quietly, crouching down next to Sam, eyes surveying every inch of his brother, searching for anything Crowley might have done to him.
“He’s fine. Fell off the couch during his episode, but other than that, he’s okay. So…what’s going on?”
Dean pushed the hair away of Sam’s face and rested his hand on Sam’s neck, thumb rubbing soothingly on the corner of Sam’s jaw.
“Wants me to hunt. There’s a Rawhead in Augustana, he wants the alpha.”
“You gunna do it?
”
Dean scoffed, “Course I’m gunna do it. I don’t have any other choice, unless you suddenly found a way to ice the goddamned King of Hell.”
Bobby stayed silent as Dean tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and went over to where their things were kept, putting on his socks and boots and slipping on one of his other jackets, his leather jacket still wrapped around Sam.
Dean scrubbed a hand through his messy hair and took one long look at his brother before walking straight to the door.
“I’ll be back soon. Take care of Sammy.”
Dean was out the door before Bobby could even reply.
**
Part Two
Rating: PG-13/ Gen
Word Count: 11,535
Disclaimer: Kripke's world, my imagination. Fic title comes from the the 30 Seconds To Mars song 100 Suns
Summary: Dean couldn't believe this was happening, that he could be, finally getting his Sammy back.
Warnings: Swearing, general spoilers for season 6, lots and lots of brotherly schmoop (that's really more of an enticement, really)
A/N: I started writing this months ago, before Winter Hellatus, back in about October. So it's a bit of an AU certain characters are still alive in my fic. Long story short, a good chunk of my fic got Kripke'd. Whatevs.
Sam had been out of hell for 18 months.
He had been with Dean for 7 of those months, give or take.
Dean hasn’t seen his brother, his Sammy in almost two years.
It was like Stanford all over again but only worse because now, he couldn’t just get drunk and forget about having a brother for a night because Sam was always there. On the laptop, in the passenger seat, next to him while working a case. Sam was just…there.
Sam was there. But Sammy wasn’t.
Add that to losing the one bit of normality he ever had and being a demon’s bitch boy, and Dean was just fucking tired.
Dean had just finished cleaning the guns and slipped into his bed when Crowley had decided that he wanted “his grunts out on the field” again, popping into their room in Madison, Minnesota at 6 am with a newspaper clipping and a story about a man slaughtering his family (read: ripped them to shreds and ate them for dinner and saved some for desert).
“Werewolf attack. His name’s Andrew James, he’s still on the loose not too far from here, up in Odessa. Up and at ’em boys, I want this one. Alive this time, if you please.”
Dean was about to tell him to shove it up his ass, but by the time he looked up, Crowley was gone. “Fuck…” Dean groaned out, dropping backwards onto the pillows and covering his face with his hands. Sam walked over and picked up the clipping from Dean’s bed, “At least this time it actually is a werewolf attack, and not another case of Kujo the killer pet. Why don’t you get onto the research and I’ll-”
“No.” Dean said shortly. He sat up on the bed and grabbed the clipping out of Sam’s hand, glancing over it quickly before looking up, “I’ll go to the town. You stay here and see what you can dig up.”
“But Dean-”
“Sam. You may be Terminator Hunter, but I’m still the big brother and what I say goes, got it.”
Sam didn’t answer him, just ran his hand through his hair and clenched his fists at his side.
“Sam.”
“Yeah Dean, I got it.” Sam bit out, walking over to the small table in the corner of the room they were staying in and dropped into one of the seats, the old wood of the chair creaking in protest.
“It’s only like 40 minutes away; I’ll call you if anything, k?”
“Yeah Dean, sure. I’ll let you know if I find something.” Sam mumbled back, booting up the laptop and strumming his fingers against the table while waiting.
Dean didn’t want to leave it like that, but he didn’t want to get into it again with Sam, so he just nodded to himself, grabbed his jacket and keys and left quietly.
He pretended to not hear the laptop slamming shut hard enough to break it in two.
**
After an hour of scouring the town and asking questions, Sam called him and told him the street Andrew James lived on. Dean had to do some serious guilt-tripping to get Sam to just stay the fuck in the motel room (and it’s not exactly the easiest thing ever to guilt someone when they have no soul) but after that, it was cake.
Dean actually found James’ house pretty quickly. It’s kind of hard to miss a house that had bloody streaks on the stairs and fingerprints on the door (even though, okay, they were pretty damn hard to see while driving by. But after doing it for more than 20 years, it was like a neon sign for him).
Dean thought about calling Sam and telling him that he had found James’ house. His finger hovered over the 2 button to speed dial Sam, but then he just put his phone away, grabbed his gun from the glove compartment, made sure he had a round of silver bullets, and went in alone.
The smell of blood and death instantly hit him and he swallowed against the urge to gag. His eyes traced the trail of blood leading out of the foyer and behind a door at the end of the hall. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was going to be behind door number one.
Dean pulled his gun out, checked the clip again and then went over to the door, opening it slowly. There were three bodies on the floor, a woman, and two little kids, a boy and a girl. Dean’s grip on his gun tightened. After all this time hunting, kids were always the thing that got to him the most.
He was about to search the rest of the house when something moved out of the corner of his eye. He raised his gun and pulled the hammer back, “Move and I shoot, Andrew.”
“P-please….please j-just kill…kill me. I-I don’t deserve t-to live.”
Dean didn’t lower his gun, but he walked over slowly. The closer he got, the better he could see. Andrew was sitting curled in a ball in the very back corner of the room. There was blood splattered on the carpet around him and streaks of it on the wall near him and on most of his skin.
“M-my family…I…please, just d-do it.”
Dean sighed and lowered his gun to his side. “I’m not going to kill you, Andrew.”
“Why not!? Please…I don’t want…I can’t, not without them…” The man in front of him curled into a ball and cried onto his knees, trembling.
Dean looked him over before glancing back down at the gun in his hand. He knew Crowley wanted Andrew, knew that Crowley was going to torture him for information on the Alpha and purgatory, but it was obvious to Dean that Andrew knew nothing and really just…wanted to die.
“I’m sorry.” Dean said quietly, bringing his gun up and pulling the trigger.
“Now Dean, didn’t I say I wanted this one alive?”
Dean whipped around and saw Crowley standing in the center of the room, gripping Andrew by the bicep while he cowered on the ground next to him.
Dean glanced behind him and saw that it was, in fact, devoid of the werewolf before turning back to Crowley and clicking the safety on his gun, storing it in the back of his jeans.
“He doesn’t know shit, Crowley, it’s obvious. Just let him die like he wants to.” Dean growled out angrily.
Crowley tutted at him like he was a child and snapped his fingers, making Andrew disappear.
“He knows everything Dean, that’s why I wanted him. He was turned by the Alpha. Torture him long enough and his sire’s bound to come by eventually.” Crowley told him matter-of-factly. “This is the Alpha I wanted. I’ve been looking for ones he’s personally turned for months now.”
“Well, good for you, that’s just awesome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back before Robocop goes AWOL on me.”
“About that…I don’t think you need to worry about him leaving. He’ll be too busy trying to not rip his brain out. Or his heart, if you want to get technical.”
“Wait…what.” Dean took a step closer to Crowley, tilting his head towards the demon, “Run that last part by me again? After all these years of gunfire, my hearing’s kinda shot.”
Crowley rolled his eyes and sat down at the table nearby, completely careless of the three corpses at his feet.
“I’m feeling generous, and hey, I actually kinda have a soft spot for you and your moose. You know the powers I possess…well, more or less, and I know just what strings I’ll need to pull if I need your help again. So, for now, Sammy’s off the hook…or rack, whatever.”
“H-how do I know this isn’t a trick?” Dean asked him, gritting his teeth in anger. It just…couldn’t be this easy, could it? After all these months, just…bam?
“You have my word on this, Dean.”
“Demons lie.”
“Don’t clump me with the rest of those halfwit animals, that’s insulting. I say you have my word, and so, you do. Your dear ole Sammy now has his soul back.”
Before Dean could say anyt
hing, Crowley stood up, fixing his coat and walking towards the door, “We’ll be in touch.” Dean blinked, and he was gone.
He stood there for a minute looking at nothing before shaking his head slightly and running back out to the car. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that he could actually have his Sammy back. He was backing out of the James’ driveway when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He jumped slightly before digging it out of his pocket. Sam it read, and his hand suddenly began trembling.
“Sam?”
“D-Dean.
Dean had to force himself to not breakdown then and there. He hadn’t heard Sam say his name like that since Lucifer had him up against the hood of the Impala over a year ago.
“Sam, h-hey. Um…Crowley he…he uh, he said he gave you your…soul back.”
Instead of answering, Dean just heard labored breathing on the other end and a grunt of pain.
“Sam?”
“Dean…it hurts. P-please…”
Shit. “Sam, I’ll be there as soon as I can, just hang on.”
“Hurry.” Sam breathed out before the line went dead.
Dean apologized to the car in his head and then yelled for Castiel to get his fucking ass down there before pushing his foot down on the pedal as hard as he could.
**
It took about 45 minutes to get to Odessa. It took Dean a little over 15 minutes to get back to Sam
.
He was surprised he got there completely unscathed seeing as how the whole time, his mind was just a constant litany Sammy could really be back and Cas please, we need you.
It was just his luck that the only parking spot was on the other side of the lot, but Dean just ripped the keys out of the ignition and ran to their door, almost dropping them in his hurry to just fucking get to Sam.
He shoved the door open and looked around the empty room.
“Sam? Sam!”
He heard a something break in the bathroom and made his way towards it, nudging the door open.
“Sam? Oh god…” The vanity mirror above the sink was smashed, cracks spidering out from a hit in the middle, pieces of glass in the sink and on the ground, splatters of red all around.
The small bar on the wall to hold towels was ripped out of the drywall, dangling inches off the ground, and then there was Sam. he was curled into a ball in the corner of the bathtub gripping his head, hands threaded so tightly through his hair Dean was sure there were going to be strands of hair in his fists. Dean saw smears of blood on the edges of the tub and on various places of his clothes. Sam’s phone was on the ground, the battery and face plate strewn across the floor. Dean figured that was what he heard break.
“Sam, it’s okay, I’m here.” Dean told him, walking over to the bathtub and crouching down.
“N-no…you’re not…you can’t b-be…Nononono-”
“Sam, you need to snap out of it. I know this place is crappy, but this isn’t hell. Sam, please. You need to listen to me. Sam…Sammy.”
Dean reached over and closed his hands over Sam’s fists, thumbs rubbing back and forth to try and calm him down enough to stop trembling while at the same time, they were trying to get him to let go of his head.
“D-Dean…?”
“Yeah Sammy, it’s me. You called me before, remember? And I told you about Crowley? He gave you your soul back. You’re not in hell, you’re here. With me.” Dean said quietly.
Sam stopped shaking and Dean felt the grip under his loosen slightly.
“That’s it Sammy, c’mon, s’ok. I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dean…it…it hurts.”
“I know Sammy. Dammit Cas, please, we need you. Sam and I need you.”
“C-Cas?”
“Yeah Sammy, if he could get his angelic butt down here, he might be able to help you out a bit.”
“W-what’s happening Dean…”
Crowley’s voice suddenly rang out in his head ‘He’ll be too busy trying to not rip his brain out. Or his heart, if you want to get technical’.
“You haven’t felt anything in almost two years, Sam.”
Dean bit off a curse as Castiel suddenly appeared next to them, head tilted in curiosity.
“About damn time.”
“I didn’t need to come here Dean, I trust you understand that.”
“Yeah, whatever, what the hell is going on with Sam?”
“Crowley returned Sam’s soul to him…but with that also comes two years’ worth of feelings; emotions, pain, guilt, everything he’s gone through since Lucifer inhabited his body, it’s all coming back and flooding into him at once. And that’s just his body, not his actual soul, which has been in the cage with Michael and Lucifer, who had nothing else to occupy their time with but him.”
“But…couldn’t that-”
“Kill him, yes, which is why I came. I cannot stop what he is going through, but I can lessen its impact. This isn’t going to be easy, Dean. It’s going to take some time.”
Dean remained quiet and turned back to Sam, whose hands were now gripping Dean’s fingers in between his own, still holding his head and whimpering every now and then.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Sammy back to normal, Cas, you should know that.”
“I do, Dean.”
“Good,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes briefly before glancing back up to Castiel. “So…how’re you planning on helping him exactly?”
“I can slow it down marginally. It will take a bit longer for him to feel everything that has happened over the last year and a half, but at least this way, it will be a bit more manageable for his body.”
“How long then?” Dean asked impatiently, squeezing Sam’s fingers every time he shivered in the tub.
“Three days.”
“Three days? Sammy has to go through this for three days?! What the fuck, Cas-”
“D-Dean…” Sam whispered, pulling everyone’s attention towards him
.
“Yeah Sammy, what is it?”
Sam slowly pulled their hands away from his head, hands and arms shaking. It was the first time Dean really got a look at his face and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or summon Crowley and kill his demonic ass once and for all.
Sam’s eyes were dull, almost gray, and the skin around them was red and puffy, tear tracks evident on his cheeks and his still-wet eyelashes. Dried blood was smeared under his nose and around his mouth, his lips chapped and bleeding in places and Dean had flashes of almost three years ago when they trapped Sam in the panic room, hyped up on bitch blood.
“Dean…please, j-just let him do wh-whatever he needs to do…I-I can’t…I can’t take th-this much. Please.”
Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, searching. Sam’s entire body would not stop trembling, but when their eyes met, Sam’s gaze was steady, strong.
Dean nodded and looked up at Castiel, “Okay…help him.”
Castiel looked over the brothers before nodding, taking off his trench coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
Dean began to move away to give the angel some room, but Sam’s grip on his hand tightened to almost painful, and so Dean did the next best thing.
“Move over, sasquatch.” Dean stood and helped Sam scoot towards the middle of the tub, the whole time holding his hand. Dean squeezed in behind his brother, legs bracketing Sam in, and then reached around Sam to grab his other hand. The tub could barely hold Sam as it was, but Dean was determined to make it work.
“It’s gunna be ok, Sam, I promise.”
Sam nodded and learned the hard way that that was not the best idea he ever had. Pain ratcheted through his head and down to his very core and he just wanted it to fucking stop. He hadn’t felt pain that badly since…Hell
It was like Hell all over again.
Or…maybe it was Hell and this was all some fucked up trick Lucifer was doing to pass the time.
It wouldn’t be the first time Lucifer made Sam think he was back with Dean.
That had to be it, it was a hallucination. Which meant he was still in the cage and he just needed to wake the fuck up before it got to him too much.
“Fuck, just stop. I know this isn’t r-real you fucking prick, so just stop!” Sam yelled, thrashing in Dean’s grip and trying to pull away.
The pain just kept coming in waves and he felt as if he was two seconds away from throwing up, but he had to get away, he needed to wake up.
“Sam, Sammy, calm down, it’s me. You’re not dreaming and this is real. Please! Sam!” Dean tightened his arms and locked his legs around Sam, grunting with the effort to keep his huge younger brother steady.
“Fuckin’ A, Cas, just do whatever the hell it is you need to do to stop him before he kills himself!” Dean grits out, hissing in pain when Sam head-butts him.
“Hold him still.”
“I’m trying here, in case you didn’t fucking notice.”
Castiel knelt next to them and, without preamble, shoved his hand into Sam’s gut. Sam’s thrashing got worse and his swearing at Lucifer became screams and cries for help.
“Dean, he needs to stay still.” Castiel told him, staring intently at Sam’s stomach where his arm was buried.
“This is as still as he’s gunna get, Cas! He doesn’t even know what’s real right now, I highly doubt he’s gunna do us the favor of not moving.”
Dean tightened his hold further and whispered into Sam’s ear to calm down and believe it was really him.
“Sammy, please. I know what you’re feeling right now, I do. But you need to believe me that this is real. Remember the last year; you were here, with me. And Crowley? All that really happened. Me and Cas, we’re trying to help you. Let us help you.”
Sam slowly stopped pulling against Dean and instead began pushing into him, trying to get away from Castiel.
“H-hurts…”
“I know Sammy, it’s almost over, I swear.” Dean looked up to Castiel and the angel nodded in agreement. After a few more seconds, Sam stopped moving all together and Cas withdrew his hand.
“I-is that it?”
“For now, yes. I have done all I can for him.”
“Good. That’s good, right Sammy?” Dean looked down and Sam was completely unresponsive.
“Sammy?” Dean shook him gently, but Sam’s head simply lolled on his shoulder, completely lax in Dean’s grip.
“Cas, what-”
“His body is exhausted, Dean. And not only from what I just did. Remember, he hasn’t slept since coming back. I’m surprised he’s stayed conscious this long as is.”
“So what, I just sit here waiting for him to wake up?”
Castiel grabbed his coat off of the ground and stood, “There is little else that can be done for him Dean. He is in such a deep sleep that he is almost in a coma. Waking him is ill advised. His body is so passed the point of exhaustion that it could harm him further if you wake him. So yes, waiting is your only option.”
Dean looked back down at Sam and swiped the hair out of his face. “Fine, then can you help me-” Dean looked up and Cas was gone. “…With Sam.”
Dean sighed and ran his hand over his face. “You live to make my life difficult, huh kid?”
He pushed and pulled Sam’s body until Sam was lying in the tub, head crooked in an angle against the wall, and Dean climbed out of it, staring down at his unmoving form.
Dean reached over and laid his hand flat on Sam’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Dean stayed like that for a minute before heading out of the room and over to the beds, turning down the closer one and grabbing Sam’s duffel from the corner of the room, pulling out Sam’s favorite t-shirt and sweatpants.
He then went back into the bathroom, “Might as well get it over with.” He sighed, crouching by the tub and wrapping Sam’s arm over his shoulders and grabbing Sam around his middle, lifting him out of the tub.
“Fucking hell dude, you’re so gunna lay off the fucking ‘roids when you wake your big ass up.”
He had to lean against the wall to keep his knees from buckling under two hundred pounds of his little brother’s body and slowly made his way across the small bathroom, careful to steer clear of the shards of glass on the floor.
Dean gently laid Sam’s head down on the pillow and crouched down to pull off his shoes and socks and then reached up to unbuckle his jeans and pull them off. His body was slowly going into autopilot as he methodically slipped sweatpants onto Sam’s legs and unbuttoned his plaid shirt, leaving him in a gray tee that had splatters of blood on it still.
Dean sat on the bed next to his brother, turned the tv on low and reached over to grab Sam’s wrist, thumb rubbing calming circles over the thin skin on the inside.
He was tired, exhausted even, but no way in hell was he going to get any sleep tonight. Sam’s pained groans and whimpers solidified that fact.
Besides, he was well rested compared to his baby brother.
Baby brother. He hadn’t thought that of Sam in well over a year. Because he wasn’t his baby brother, he was just RoboSam, a stranger in a familiar body.
But now he was back and now Dean got to get back into the role he’s known since he was four years old.
Protect Sammy.
**
It was around 2am that Sam began panting in his sleep, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow and his eyes tightly screwed shut.
Dean dropped the remote and reached over to push Sam’s hair out of his face and was shocked to feel the warmth that was radiating from his brother’s skin before he even made contact.
When Dean laid his hand on Sam’s forehead he hissed at the heat coming off of his little brother and sprung off of the bed and into the bathroom, soaking one of the threadbare towels with cold water, squeezing out the excess before returning to place it on Sam’s forehead.
Now that Dean paid closer attention, Sam’s entire t-shirt was soaked with sweat and, after laying his palm flat on Sam’s chest, he realized Sam’s heart was racing.
fucking perfect, Dean thought, this is exactly what we needed, for him to have a fever on top of everything else that’s going on. Nothing else can fucking go wrong.
And that’s when Sam began yelling.
“No, stop, please! I-I’m sorry, just-ahhh!”
“Sammy, please, you hafta…you need to stop.”
“No! nononono!”
Sam went clear past yelling and began screaming for help.
“This is not good, this is so so so not good.” Dean mumbled to himself as he tried in vain to stop Sam’s screaming.
It was obvious he was having a nightmare, a bad one. Dean knew all too well about how scarring a trip downstairs was. But compared to Sam’s, well, his stay was like a paid vacation.
And unlike Sam, Dean was able to wake up from the things that haunted his mind. But for now, Sam was trapped in his subconscious, his body’s need for sleep trumping everything else, giving his nightmares full reign.
Sam soon began thrashing his entire body around and Dean had to straddle him to keep him from falling off of the bed
.
“Dammit Sam, you need to calm down. Please. I know you can hear me. It’s not real.”
“Please, just, Dean. DEAN!”
Dean’s eyes began to well up as he continued to try and help his brother. If Sam was yelling his name now, then that must mean that Sam was yelling for him in the cage too.
Just like Dean had yelled for Sam when he was in the pit.
HELP! NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME! SAM! SAM!!
“DEAN. God, please!”
“Sam. Sam! I need you to stop-” Dean was cut off by banging on the door and someone ordering for them to open up.
He ignored it and went back to trying to calm his brother, but the banging was incessant and Dean growled as gently untangled himself from his brother and stalked over to the door, ripping it open just enough to keep Sam hidden.
“What the fuck is going on in here?!” The man, whom Dean recognized as the owner, asked angrily, keychain dangling from his fist.
Dean realized it was a good thing he opened the door himself before the owner barged in on them. That would have made this whole thing a million times worse.
“I’m sorry i-it’s my brother. He uh, he’s sick and…he has PTSD. He was, ya know, in the war. And sometimes he just gets these night terrors. It’s not a big deal, really. Sorry for waking you up.”
“I don’t care.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t care if your brother is about to keel over, I want you gone. I’ve had more complaints about this room all day than I’ve had in years, so get the hell out!”
Dean hadn’t been this close to killing a human in ages, but he was willing to make an exception.
“Dean…!”
“We’re going.” Dean growled out, slamming the door in the owner’s face and grabbing the closet duffel, shoving all of their things into it as quickly as possible, mentally flipping off the owner and deciding that no way in hell was he paying the 100 bucks for the room.
“I’m right here, Sammy, I swear. It’s gunna be okay.”
Dean silently thanked his father for his drill sergeant ways because in less than three minutes, Dean had everything packed and had scoured the room twice.
“I’ll be right back, Sammy.” Dean said quietly as Sam began whimpering again before tearing out of the room and running across the parking lot to the car. He threw the bags in the backseat and sped over to their room, throwing open the passenger door and running back inside to grab Sam.
Sam groaned in protest at being moved, but Dean continued blathering on about everything and anything, pretty sure that just the sound of his voice was bringing at least minimal comfort to Sam
Dean wrapped his leather jacket around Sam’s shaking form before sitting him gently in the passenger seat. When Dean got back into the driver’s seat, he reached over and pulled Sam down, resting his head on his lap and running his fingers through Sam’s sweat-dampened hair.
After a few minutes, Sam seemed to have calmed down some and was now totally lost in his dreams. Dean removed his hand from Sam’s head and leaned over to his grab his phone for his coat pocket. Quickly jabbing 3 on the phone, Dean sped down the road waiting for an answer.
”Dean? What the hell is the matter that you need to call me at three in the damn morning?”
“Bobby…I-it’s Sam.”
Dean heard rustling and could instantly hear the change in the man’s voice.
”What happened, is everything-“
“Crowley gave him back his soul…it’s Sammy, Bobby, really Sammy this time.”
Bobby sighed in relief, “That’s great boy, you two should come on over in a few-”
“See uh, Bobby, that’s kind of the thing. We’re on our way there now. It’s um… it’s not as simple as it sounds.”
“How long?”
“We’re in Madison, Minnesota, so the drive is about two and half hours.”
“See you in an hour then.”
Dean just closed his phone and pushed the Impala to 120mph, returning his hand to his brother’s hair.
Dean pulled into Bobby’s yard just a little after 4am and he had the suspicion that someone had made sure no cops were around to see him pushing 140.
**
Bobby was already at Sam’s door by the time Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and together they got Sam out of the car and into the house.
The moment they put Sam down on the couch (Dean didn’t want to even try lifting Sam’s heavy ass all the way to the bedroom) Dean sat on the arm of it, immediately sinking his hand into Sam’s hair and pushing it back, gently massaging his head, something Dean quickly learned was an instant way to calm Sam’s trembling.
Bobby raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word, instead heading back out to grab the boys’ duffel bags and then going into the kitchen to grab both Dean and himself cups of coffee.
When he got back to the living room, Bobby noticed Dean was now sitting on the couch, Sam’s head on his lap, one hand in Sam’s hair, the other resting on his chest, protective, claiming, over Sam’s heart.
Bobby put the cup of coffee down on the table next to Dean and sat in the chair across from the brothers, taking a long swallow of coffee before beginning.
“So…wanna fill in the details now, boy?”
Dean’s eyes flickered up to Bobby’s before returning to Sam, his eyes flying over every inch of Sam’s body, over and over as if he hadn’t seen him in forever. Which, well, is kind of true for Dean.
“We uh…Crowley had a case for us, but I went at it alone, a werewolf. I didn’t go through with killing it and Crowley appeared, finished the job for me. After that, he went on and on about some stupid shit and then he uh…well, he gave Sammy his soul back.”
“That doesn’t explain why-”
Dean cut him off, speaking on autopilot.
“When I was leaving, Sammy called me in pain and I gunned it back to the motel. Cas was there, said he could help. Said he could lessen the pain for Sam, but that it would still take a few days.”
“Lessen the pain?”
“His soul’s been in the pit for over a year, while his body’s been here. So everything that’s happened since then, both in Hell and here is coming back at once. So all the shit he went through there physically and um, all the emotional crap from the last year is hitting him now in one shot. All that alone would most likely kill him, so Cas did…something so he could get it all in waves, I guess.”
“So then what, Castiel put up like a wall or something to block it out?”
Dean nodded and finally looked up at Bobby, “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s still bad. I-I dunno just how much he can take, Bobby. And it’s only been a few hours.”
“It’ll be okay, Dean. Sam’s a strong kid, we both know that. And when it’s all over, we’ll have our Sam back, alright? Just think of it like that.” Bobby was waiting for Dean to make a smart-ass remark at the way Bobby was coddling him, but none ever came. Dean just nodded again and looked back down at his brother, hand tightening marginally over Sam’s chest, the t-shirt material bunching around his loose fist.
It broke his heart to see Dean this way, so lost and unsure of what the hell is going to happen. Bobby knew Dean, and so he knew Dean hated not knowing just what was going to happen, especially when it concerned his brother.
Bobby Singer always had a soft spot for the Winchester boys, ever since he first saw a five-year-old Sammy gripping a nine-year-old Dean’s hand when John first brought them to Sioux Falls.
Hunters didn’t do kids. Period. But John Winchester had two and he owed John a favor.
The boys had been family ever since, especially once John was gone and the boys needed someone to fall back on. For all intents and purposes, Sam and Dean were his boys and right now they needed him.
Bobby drained his cup and went to put it in the sink, coming back with an old, holey blanket that he draped over Sam and handing Dean some pills and a water bottle to give Sam for his fever.
“Thanks Bobby.”
Bobby nodded before glancing at the wall clock, realizing it was almost 5am.
“Why don’t you get some sleep, Dean, I’m sure Sam-”
“No.”
“But Dean, nothing-”
“No, Bobby. I’m not leaving his side and I’m not falling asleep. I’m okay; I don’t need it, not tired anyways. I just…I gotta be here for Sam, alright?”
Bobby sighed but agreed, deciding there was nothing that could be done for the moment. He told Dean that he was going to go back to sleep, but instead he went into his study, pulling out every book he could mental and physical harm that could come to a soul.
**
By nine pm, Sam had had five screaming fits (or ‘episodes’ as Dean and Bobby were now referring to them), the last one going on for so long that Sam’s body wore out and stopped mid-scream, passing out in Dean’s arms, tears still streaming down his face. By then they realized Sam’s voice was beyond hoarse and Dean worried that anymore yelling could seriously injure Sam’s throat, just adding onto the already infinite amount of worry Dean had for his brother.
During the day, Bobby managed to get Dean to eat something, get tea down Sam’s throat along with the pills to help him, and get Dean to take what was probably the quickest shower known to man. Dean had gone, washed, and came back in jeans that were too long and an inside out t-shirt in less than four minutes, his hair still wet and standing up in a million directions. The neck of his shirt was slowly dampening from the drops of water falling out of his hair, but Dean didn’t mind it, just lifted Sam’s head gently to take his position back on the couch, hands instantly going to Sam’s hair and Sam’s heart. Bobby didn’t miss how Sam’s breathing evened out and his eyelids stopped fluttering.
Bobby also didn’t miss how worn down Dean was. He had no idea when was the last time Dean had slept, let alone ingested something that wasn’t toast or coffee. His stubble was becoming more prominent and as the hours ticked by, the circles under his eyes darkened.
“Dean...ya gotta take care of yourself too, boy.”
Dean just grunted in response and smoothed Sam’s new t-shirt down -before taking a shower, Dean made sure to take care of Sam first-.
“I’m fine Bobby, don’t worry about me-”
“The hell I will. You’re no good to Sam if you run yourself ragged!”
Bobby guessed that if he didn’t have a lap full of baby brother right now, Dean would probably be up in his face. A sleep-deprived Dean was usually a grouchy Dean. Adding onto the fact that his brother was in unfathomable pain, both mental and physical, and Dean was practically a ticking time bomb.
Bobby sighed before getting up and leaving the room, heading back into his study even though he had no real idea of what to even do anymore.
“How’s Sammy doing? Bit peaky, eh?”
Bobby’s eyes flew to the armchair in the corner of the room to see Crowley sitting there, legs crossed, and smiling without a care in the world, smug almost.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Bobby asked angrily, pulling a gun out of his vest.
“You hunters sure are a trusting bunch. I bet you even sewed a gun holster into your pj’s.”
Bobby pointed the pistol at the demon’s head, “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”
“Testy, testy. No need to get your trucker hat in a bunch, Robert, I’m just here to see my boys, paying a friendly house visit to my employees, if you will.”
“We’re not your fucking employees, Crowley.”
Both men turned around to see Dean in the doorway, gun trained on Crowley, jaw clenched tightly.
“Dean! Nice of you to join us, I was just going to come looking for-”
“Cram it, Crowley. I don’t give a rat’s ass about whatever it is you have to say to me, we’re done.”
Crowley raised an eyebrow and in a blink of an eye, he was inches away from Dean, smug smile still plastered on his face.
“We’re done when I say we’re done, Dean.”
Dean raised his gun, pressing it against Crowley’s forehead, “We.Are.Done, Crowley.
”
“You do realize I could kill you, Sam and Bobby by just snapping my fingers, right?”
Dean said nothing, opting to instead cock the hammer on his gun.
“I need you to do something for me, Dean-”
“No.”
Crowley’s smile returned, “I never said you had a choice. But, I’m guessing you need incentive.” Crowley’s eyes focused behind Dean and then they heard it- Sam crying out for help.
Dean lowered his gun but before he could even move, Crowley tilted his head, sending Dean flying across the room and pinning him against the wall while Sam continued screaming.
“Don’t even think of moving to help either.” Crowley told Bobby before walking across the room slowly towards a struggling Dean. “Now that I have your attention, I need you, Dean; nothing major, just…a cleanup. You won’t even need to leave South Dakota.”
“God, fine, whatever. Just leave my brother the hell alone!” Dean growled out.
“Good man.” Crowley snapped his fingers and there was a muffled thump in the other room, but Sam’s screams finally stopped.
“Bobby, go check on Sammy.”
“What did I say, Dean-”
“I don’t fucking care! I’m yours, Crowley; I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Now let Bobby go help my brother or I swear to God, I will not fucking stop until I find a way to kill you.”
Crowley didn’t respond, but Dean suddenly dropped to the ground, the hold on him disappearing, and Bobby took it as an okay to go check on Sam.
“Now, back to business. Not too far away from here is a Rawhead. Already killed four children. And I want its daddy.”
Dean hated the thought of leaving Sam behind, but he knew if he didn’t, they’d both be worse off.
“Fine, where?”
“Just down in Augustana.”
Dean stood up and hit the safety lock on the gun, “I swear, you do anything while I’m gone, I’ll-”
“I won’t touch him. Scout’s honor. Just do what I want.”
Dean didn’t answer, just walked away and down the hallway, back to Sam, Crowley was gone before he left the room.
“He alright?” Dean asked quietly, crouching down next to Sam, eyes surveying every inch of his brother, searching for anything Crowley might have done to him.
“He’s fine. Fell off the couch during his episode, but other than that, he’s okay. So…what’s going on?”
Dean pushed the hair away of Sam’s face and rested his hand on Sam’s neck, thumb rubbing soothingly on the corner of Sam’s jaw.
“Wants me to hunt. There’s a Rawhead in Augustana, he wants the alpha.”
“You gunna do it?
”
Dean scoffed, “Course I’m gunna do it. I don’t have any other choice, unless you suddenly found a way to ice the goddamned King of Hell.”
Bobby stayed silent as Dean tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and went over to where their things were kept, putting on his socks and boots and slipping on one of his other jackets, his leather jacket still wrapped around Sam.
Dean scrubbed a hand through his messy hair and took one long look at his brother before walking straight to the door.
“I’ll be back soon. Take care of Sammy.”
Dean was out the door before Bobby could even reply.
**
Part Two