SPN BigBang: Above and Below, Part 5
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The funny thing is that nothing the bitch can do to him comes even close to hurting Dean as much as simply being here does. She knows that, of course. Has been riding that fact for ages now.
Fucking bitch. She’s so fucking overdue for having her rotten soul burned out of her.
Unfortunately, Dean can’t do that. He doesn’t have Sam’s powers and staring angrily at her doesn’t do anything but make her laugh. Of course, if Sam had been here he wouldn’t have been able to do it either, because there are ways of blocking those powers of his and Meg isn’t so stupid to go anywhere near him unless it’s safe. Dean still likes to indulge in the fantasy that his brother would show up and toast her slowly and painfully while she busies herself directing her lackeys how to carve him up next.
Of course that’s not an ideal fantasy. Dean is supposed to rescue Sammy, not the other way round. He’s supposed to rescue Sammy right now, and the fantasy of how he busts into Heaven, frees Sam from his chains and then lets him watch as Dean rips out Cas’ multi-dimensional entrails and smears them all over the walls is an even sweeter one.
Worst of all is that he actually had a way to do that, minus the murder and mayhem. Briefly, Dean was in the possession of the Key to Heaven, one of the weapons Balthazar had stolen, and with it even a demon like him can enter Heaven on his own. Better even - while in the possession of the key his presence would have gone unnoticed. So while Dean might not have been able to cause a little carnage, he at least could have gotten Sam out, and his insides still clench at the thought that he was so close and still failed.
Because he would have needed time to make it work. Time Cas didn’t give him.
And now he can’t even work on finding another way to save Sam because Dean can’t get away and Sam’s not here. (Sam’s not here, Sam’s not here Sam’s not here notherenotherenothere.) And it’s driving Dean crazy. It’s been the only thing he can think of for a long time. He can’t sense his brother anymore, and that’s a first since the moment he slit his own throat to give Cas the finger and then proceeded to give the finger to two reapers who wanted to take his brother away from him. That moment, standing beside their own dead bodies, was the first time in ages Sam even recognized Dean’s face and the connection he’d felt when they clung together, refusing to let forces beyond life and death tear them apart, the sense of Sam never disappeared afterwards. Dean always knew where his brother was or how he was doing.
But ever since Sam was taken to Heaven the connection has been getting weaker, as if that distance, at least, is too great. The brief visits Dean made renewed the strange bond between them, but it’s been too long and Sam simply faded away. Dean doesn’t know how he’s doing. The last things he sensed from him have been pain (ignored), worry (for Dean) and barely controlled rage. It’s been getting fainter as the connection faded until Dean could barely even sense his brother’s existence.
Even that is gone now. And Dean doesn’t know.
“I hear your feathery friend send for you,” Meg told him about a week after getting the drop on him and dragging him here. “What do you think he’ll do to little Sammy if you don’t show up?”
And after another ten days filled with much agony and even more impotent rage, she said, “Seems dear Cas got impatient. Parts of your brother have been raining down to earth for three days now.” And she smiled her ugly, ugly smile. “Oops. Well, at least now you can start to concentrate on the important things, like where your own bits will land when I’m done with you.”
But Dean never thought about that. He knows Meg wants him to think Sam is gone. He knows why. But he doesn’t think Sam is, because he can’t believe Cas would do that. Not because he’s too good a person for that but because even changed as he is he knows Sam is the way to control Dean. He must know Dean would be there at his beg and call if he could, and killing Sam would mean giving away the only leverage he could ever hope to get.
No, Sam’s still there. What Dean thinks of is the fucking knife. The cuts Cas inflicted on Sam and the threat of cutting off bits and pieces that will never grow back. Dean is pretty sure new-Cas is not above that.
Fortunately, Meg doesn’t know about that knife. Her taunts are poking into the dark and so far she’s missed any sore spots because she doesn’t know what Dean is really afraid of.
Sam won’t be killed, but there are so many much worse things that can be done to him.
The worst of them being him getting swallowed by his memories of the cage. The kind of memories that tear down their home and create monsters out of thin air. And maybe, with Heaven being so alien to Sam, he won’t be able to get back…
“Seriously, Dean,” Meg says from somewhere behind him. “Don’t be so stubborn. There’s nothing to fight for, is there? Without Sammy? Don’t worry, it’s going to be so much better once you let go.”
The bitter thing is that she’s right. If Sam was gone, if he really was gone - erased from existence, no soul to retrieve, no hope of finding him again in Heaven, Hell, purgatory or wherever - then there would be nothing left for Dean. He might let go then, stop being who he was because that person doesn’t exist without Sam, and hope to find relief in the mindless cruelty of a true demon. And he feels it inside him, that pull - feels the demon he would have become had Castiel not saved him so long ago. It’s always stronger in Hell, as if it sucks in the spirit of the place and can’t wait to be born, but against Sam it doesn’t stand a chance.
And Sam’s still there. Somewhere. And he needs Dean - Dean, not something else - to come for him.
“Change the record bitch,” Dean pressed out through a bloody grin. “This one is getting old.”
She comes into view from the left and as always it’s hard to interpret her expression since she hardly has a face to wear one. She’s lost her human self-image so long ago she probably wouldn’t be able to recognize her original face if someone pushed her non-existent nose into it. When Dean was first taken here she resembled the body she’s been wearing while on earth, but even that has been dropping away bit by bit so now she’s little more than a torn grimace with single strands of hair.
Her lackeys don’t look any better. It’s what Hell does to those who forget who they used to be.
She takes the knife this time. Dean knows this whole thing is getting to her pride. Meg went through Alastair’s school of torture and should be able to break Dean just as well as her master had. The circumstances are different of course, but Meg still needs this to prove herself. Personal hatred also plays a part, not to mention that she needs Dean broken to get what she wants.
Finishing her teacher’s job is not what she is after. Meg feels no misguided loyalty to the guy who once tortured the humanity out of her, although she takes a certain pride in having learned from the best. No, what she wants is the powerful demon Dean has the potential of becoming under her control. She wants the territory he rules with Sam, and she needs a weapon against Sam whom she believes to be dead about as much as Dean does.
She’s tried this before. She also tried getting Dean over Sam, but that backfired terribly. Now Sam’s not here (not here!), Dean is vulnerable and no one can get him out of here but himself.
Which he intends to do. And then he’ll bring the bitch’s head to Cas as a present when he goes for a visit!
For now he grinds his teeth and does his best not to scream. Screaming isn’t actually that bad he’s learned during his first trip to Hell - everyone does (except for Sam, but Sam is so fucked in the head that he doesn’t think a missing limb is a serious injury), it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But in this case, Dean simply doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
He’s only just been healed, even got all his fingers back, which would be nice if he wasn’t sure he’s going to lose them again soon enough. Currently, Meg’s back to tearing off his skin in little slices and Dean has to admit that really fucking hurts.
But it hurts not nearly as much as the gnawing hole inside him that Sam used to fill.
Suddenly Meg drops the knife and is right in Dean’s face - so close he nearly suffocates on the smell of sulphur. “Scream for me, Dean,” she coos. “Sammy’s not going to make you do that anymore.” She touches him in places her hands don’t belong, but at least those places are currently still attached to his body. “Be nice to me and I’ll make you forget why you ever thought fucking your brother’d be the ultimate kick. Or you continue to play hard to get and I’ll eat your dick while my boys make you scream for an entirely different reason.”
“Hate to break the news to you,” Dean gasps, “but you’re not exactly every boy’s wet dream. I’d rather eat my dick myself that stick it in you.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says and draws away. “Hey, boys,” she sing-songs as she steps away from the cross Dean is nailed to. “Playtime!”
Dean doesn’t do them the favour of showing any reaction to the prospect of another few hours or days of being stripped of flesh and muscle, played with and sliced to pieces. The fact that they have nothing on Alastair when it comes to creativity and determination still doesn’t make it fun.
This is different from Dean’s first trip down not only because of the head-torturer, though. For one, during his first trip he didn’t have any prospect of ever getting away so there really was nothing for him to hold on for but himself. And he was never that good at doing things for himself, had learned too well from too early an age to do things for his dad and Sam first and forget himself in the process. Not really a surprise he failed, then - even though that doesn’t lessen the shame.
At least it didn’t back then. Being a demon and well adjusted to Hell changes the perspective on basically everything.
Which is the other thing that’s different. Not only does Dean have to hold on for Sam which is so much second nature to him that anything else is unthinkable, he’s also a demon now and has a much worse demon sitting somewhere inside him, waiting for a chance to be born. And this demon isn’t scared, as the old Dean has been. It isn’t desperate and hopeless in the face of unbearable agony without any hope for an end.
This demon is fucking pissed.
But the temptation… The temptation is still there. Back then, Dean has been tempted by the promise of the pain, fear and humiliation finally stopping. This time he knows that if only he gives in, if only he gets off this rack, he can tear them apart as they did him. Only he’ll do it better. He’ll make them regret that they ever laid hand on him. They’ll have all their taunts cut off their tongues in stripes and before he destroys them so thoroughly that they’ll never come back again in any shape or form he’ll make sure they realise what a fucking mistake it was to make him angry.
On top of that he’ll make them taste the humiliation of seeing that the pathetic skills they are so proud of are nothing compared to his.
And when he’s done with them, he’ll move on to Meg. Meg, who keeps him from saving Sam. That thought is like a drug to the demon inside him. She’s harming Sammy and Dean will make her pay, and it would be so easy…
The rage in Dean is almost all-consuming and in a way it’s harder to fight than the desperation has been all those years ago. It’s fed by the very basic need to get back at these smug bastards, by worry, the need to do something and the knowledge that he could.
Meg thinks she can control him. He’s gonna show her-
And then he would go get Sam from Heaven, but the person he would be then isn’t someone he wants anywhere near his brother. This is what keeps him from giving in just for the sake of it, but the more Dean thinks about Sam in Heaven the more he starts to wonder if him becoming a monster would really be that much worse for Sam than what he might suffer now.
For now, all Dean does in defiance is glare at the demon with the ugly twisted features and the rusty hammer in his hand with all the rage he is feeling and bare his teeth. The demon flinches away and hesitates to come near him; there is some meagre satisfaction in that, at least.
But of course that’s not going to help Sammy at all.
What does help Sam is the fact that, as it turns out, he’s not imprisoned in Heaven anymore. Dean can only stare, not really comprehending what he sees, when the tall, slender shape of his brother drops down on the balcony behind his torturers. Sam doesn’t make a sound - not when he arrives and not when he enters through the glassless window, and Dean is almost convinced he’s imagining his appearance. He almost wishes he was imagining this because here Sam is, so close to him, and Dean still senses nothing. And that would mean, that would mean the connection they had, once lost, won’t come back. That would mean he’s never going to feel his brother again. Not like that.
But in the end Dean doesn’t think that much. He’s really just staring, with some panic and confusion and ridiculous pride running in wordless circles as he watches Sam walk into the room, draw a knife from underneath his vest and stick it into the back of the demon nearest to Dean before anyone else notices he’s there.
The other nameless jackass has a chance to be a little shocked and afraid before Sam throws him away with a gesture of his hand and makes him combust into ashes. Then Sam drops down on the fallen demon and sticks the knife in his face, just when the demon tries to get up again.
Meg doesn’t stay to watch, clever bitch that she is. Unfortunately for her, she finds herself thrown against a wall and held there, without Sam even so much as looking at her.
Dean wonders distantly if it’s a coincidence that she landed on one of the spikes that have held him upright during his first week here. As he watches Sam place his hand on the forehead of the helpless demon beneath him and the guy screams while his essence is burned away in a process that takes much longer than it needs to, he kind of doubts it.
When he is done, Sam comes over to where Dean is hanging. Without doubt he wants to free him, but all Dean can see is how pale and bruised he looks, and the bandages where Cas cut him; all the rage is back. Rage directed at Cas. Cas hurt Sam. Cas imprisoned him and inflicted wounds that won’t heal and used him against Dean, and he took him from Dean. He cut the bond between them, made sure that Dean can only look at Sam and see his injuries but not sense them. They will forever be limited to words and Dean will hurt Cas for that.
Then the nails that went through his hands are gone and he’s falling right into Sam’s arms - and the moment they touch everything is flooding back to him. Suddenly Sam is there, right inside him where he should be, and Dean can feel his exhaustion and pain, and the old memories of unspeakable horrors that are crashing against his consciousness like waves, threatening to overwhelm him and so much stronger without Dean there to focus on and help keep them away. But all that lies forgotten and unimportant under the incredible worry Sam felt for him, the relief of having him back and the rage that Dean’s been hurt. There’s a need for revenge that rivals his brother’s, and then there’s Dean’s own rage and worry and his own relief, so much stronger than Sam’s and beyond his brother’s understanding because Sam doesn’t sense Dean the way Dean senses him.
It’s too much all at once. Dean sways under the onslaught but Sam keeps him upright, keeps him stable. Then Sam makes a surprised noise when Dean fists his hands into his hair and pulls him into a kiss, pressing their bodies together as if he could merge with Sam in body as in soul, right here and now, and fuck that bitch who’s watching with blood running over her mangled lips. Dean kisses Sam like he’s air Dean needs to breathe and Sam returns every kiss, not quite getting it but so, so happy to have him back.
Dean’s hands are punctured and leave bloody trails on Sam’s skin as they roam all over his body, but Dean doesn’t care. This is his sign: Look, this is mine and if you touch it I’m going to rip you apart! There’s pain but Sam is keeping him upright and Dean already feels himself knitting back together as if simply being near Sam made that happen. It probably does, too, because this is Hell and Hell, if he ever wanted it to, would be Sam’s pet.
Then Dean’s hand brushes over the bandage on Sam’s upper arm and comes back slick with blood that isn’t his.
Sam’s blood. The blood that should never be spilled. It pulls Dean back to the present and the place and he separates from his brother, waking towards Meg’s pathetic, impaled form on legs that are more willing to carry him with every step he takes. Someone needs to die, and even though Meg never touched Sam (this time), she’ll make a good, slow start.
She knows it, too. Tries desperately to get away and something dark and ugly in Dean is utterly delighted by the fear he sees in her eyes.
But Sam, to his shock and consternation, holds him back. “Wait,” he says, before turning to look at Meg. “I have an offer for you,” he tells her.
*+*+*
Sam and Meg don’t seal their deal with a kiss. It’s not that kind of deal and Dean is grateful for small mercies. It’s bad enough that she’s going to live (for now), although seeing Sam stick a hand in her chest and twist it around in the smoky black mess that is her soul did offer a certain satisfaction. It’s not fair, though - he wanted to hurt her!
By the time they make their way back home, Dean’s injuries are mostly healed, but he’s still sore and exhausted; nothing will magically snap that away. He’ll need a little rest before going to figure out a way to kill Cas, and he intends to get that rest in his bed with Sam pressed against him and shielded from the rest of the world.
There are two ways to get back home and they pick the fast one because apparently home is falling apart and they have a confused Jimmy Novak as a guest, which leads to a confused Dean. So it seems Jimmy was with Sam in Heaven all the time.
Huh.
Since walking would take too long, Sam takes a leap off the balcony, flies a little circle and then grabs Dean under the arms to lift him off as well. Dean would rather walk, actually, since Sam’s wings are injured and flying can’t be much fun, but Sam insists. It leads to Dean hanging off him all the way up, sensing the pain and effort his brother is going through.
He’ll kick him for that, later. When he has ground under his feet to stand on.
The fortress has changed since Dean left it. It’s crumbled and dirty, and a whole wing is gone entirely. Not fallen apart but gone as if it was never there in the first place. The only reason Dean knows it’s missing is because he remembers it being there.
The place protected by Sam’s subconscious is falling apart and Sam is just a few steps away from a mental breakdown. Dean can sense that, too - his brother was alone for too long, has been imprisoned and tortured for too long. While he doesn’t sense Dean the way Dean senses him his brother’s presence is still something that keeps him stable, and the separation was hard on him. He’s doing his best to focus and not give in to his memories of a different Hell but Dean fears that everything will come crashing down on Sammy the moment the worst is over and he has time to breathe.
Well, not if Dean can prevent it. And he knows some things that are pretty distracting.
Now yet, though. First they have to figure out what to do with Jimmy, who betrayed Castiel and is on the run from Heaven. They have no interest in feeding him to the angels, yet he can’t stay here either. Hell corrupts just by being in it, and besides, Jimmy doesn’t seem to be liking the place very much.
He’s not seeing it on one of the better days.
At least the screams have stopped. It’s blessedly silent in their territory for the first time since Sam left here, and after a few minutes Dean realises that the stench of sulphur is gone as well.
Everyone is pretty exited to see them. Everyone present, anyway. A lot of their closest friends are out right now, fighting attacking enemies and naturally, Sam wants to go and help them. Dean wants that too, but neither of them is exactly up to it at the moment. They send out word that the boy king has returned, though, and that’s probably going to discourage a lot of the attackers.
None of the battles going on is particularly fierce anyway. Mostly, the enemies are lurking around, watching and waiting for a chance to strike. They have lost a grand total of no one to the attacks except for Mel who was killed by Heaven. Dean can tell the exact moment Sam notices her absence by the wave of sadness and rage running through him.
“It was an angel,” he says before Sam can ask. “They didn’t want me to have help on my mission.”
Sam nods wordlessly, his face remaining blank. Dean doesn’t know what he’s thinking - it doesn’t work that way - but he knows the loss and the circumstances leading to it hit his brother hard.
No one told Sam about the girl. He just knows she’s not there anymore, just like he knows Andy’s coming before they can see him. It’s a special irony of fate that he can sense everyone but Dean.
That’s okay, though. He can watch over everyone else while Dean watches over him.
As big brother, lover and protector, it’s his first instinct to get Sam to their bed, take care of his wounds, see if he can do something about those cuts he simply can’t and won’t let bleed and hurt for the rest of eternity. Then he’d make Sammy rest because the flight took what was left of his reserves and now he’s trembling against Dean, out of breath and feeling every wound in a way he didn’t when Dean was still in danger.
But Dean can’t follow his instinct yet, because Sam won’t let him. There’s too much he feels he still has to do.
Andy is the first to come over and welcome his king back to their kingdom. Soon enough the place is going to be swarming with people who want to do the same and maybe give their report in the process. Maybe they’re happy to see Dean, too, but Dean’s done a lot of yelling lately and they probably didn’t miss him all that much. It’s okay with him - actually, he intends to kick them all out, take Sammy and lock them away in their chambers before his brother can get the idea the he’s still well enough to take care of each and every problem that came up at once.
All that yelling he did was worth something, Dean soon realises. One glare is enough to convince everyone they are actually busy elsewhere and don’t want to bother their king any longer. But even after they are all gone Dean’s sticking pretty close to his brother. He has this irrational fear that the moment he lets go Sam is going to be gone again, or fall apart, or this wonderful, wonderful bond between them that even Castiel-with-the-power-of-God couldn’t destroy will be lost. So he has one arm wrapped around Sam’s shoulders while they’re talking to Jimmy, his fingers distractedly stroking the slightly damp bandage on Sam’s upper arm.
Jimmy is the only one left, if only because Sam explicitly told him to stay. He looks decidedly uncomfortable watching them and Dean smirks at him, letting his eyes flash black in the demonic form of a wink.
“Your family is safe,” Sam tells his human friend whom Dean likes but still feels like punching on the ground of him looking like Cas. Or Cas looking like him. Either way, his face is not something Dean wants to see right now.
Even though he likes him.
Dean is a demon. He has a right to be conflicted about stuff.
“How? Why?” Jimmy wants to know and doesn’t seem convinced at all.
“Because a very powerful demon is very interested in them not coming to any harm.” Sam stretches out his hand and a puff of black smoke appears, curling and twisting on his hand. “This is a rather crucial part of the essence of the demon who kidnapped Dean. If I destroy it, she’s destroyed with it.”
“So in other words, we own her ugly ass,” Dean says with some glee.
“Don’t worry,” Sam adds. “She’s good at what she does. Be it other demons or angels, they will think twice about coming near your family after she killed the first few.”
“But she’s a demon!” Jimmy protests. Dean wonders if he should feel insulted.
“And as such you can rely on her self-preservation instincts,” Sam assures him. “Since I’m going to destroy her even if your wife or daughter are mauled by a random poltergeist or hit by a car, I’d say they are now safer than they were ever before. And don’t worry about the bad influence - no demon will go near them unless they have to.”
Jimmy still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but some of the tension leaves his body.
“Now we have to see what to do with you,” Dean says. “I don’t assume you want to stay.”
Jimmy shakes his head. “I want to go back.”
Sam breathes in sharply. “To Heaven?”
“Yes.”
“Cas must know you helped me. He’s going to hurt you.”
“Still.” Jimmy sets his jaw in a stubborn line that reminds Dean of Sam. “I have to go back to him. Cas has been betrayed by everyone he trusted. And I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but he’s being controlled by all those things and…” He takes a deep breath. “He needs me. He needs someone to stick with him.”
Were Dean mean he could argue that a single human soul isn’t going to make a difference to a self-proclaimed God. But he has to admit that he’s a little impressed here. Nothing will make him any less angry with Cas or make him kill the dick any less slowly if he gets the chance, but he has to admire this loyalty to someone who never offered any favours in the first place.
Even if Cas betrayed them - betrayed Sammy - before he ever absorbed purgatory. Maybe Dean should say something after all, since Jimmy is walking the very thin line between loyalty and idiocy.
But Sam is quicker. “If you really want to return, I’ll help you,” he says. “For the angels who saw us it must’ve been hard to tell if you helped me escape of if I took you hostage. We’ll make it look like you managed to escape from here.”
Jimmy looks sceptical but a little hopeful, too. “You think that’ll work?”
“I don’t know,” Sam openly admits. “But think how easy it was for you to free me. I think Cas wanted me to get away.”
“Why?”
“You know why, right?” Sam looks at Jimmy and Jimmy looks at Sam and Dean holds Sam a little closer, feeling left out because he doesn’t know anything.
Eventually Jimmy nods. “Not sure that’s going to help.”
Sam turns to Dean. “You have any messages for Cas, Dean?”
It seems random and takes Dean by surprise. “Apart from that I’m going to fry his ass the next time I see him? No.”
But Sam seems satisfied with that. He says goodbye to Jimmy, thanks him for his help and orders two demons to escort him to the surface and then make sure to get away before any angels show up.
When they are gone, Dean and Sam are alone and Sam sways a little on his feet.
“Easy, tiger!” Dean is there to support him but he can feel Hell in Sam’s mind. That he can still feel it is a good sign, though, because just before it all breaks out the connection always weakens, as if Sam were trying to protect him. He probably is, despite not even sensing the bond the way Dean does.
Now, Dean has to distract him before things get out of hand. And get him to rest. He leads his brother to the chamber that serves as their bedroom and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed, all the time talking nonsense, just like he did when they were alive and he needed to distract Sam from a broken bone. Sam doesn’t say anything, just plays around with the bandage on his arm that will forever serve to fuel Dean’s hatred for Cas.
He wants to lie down with Sam and hold him close, but first he needs to wash up, get rid of the stink of Meg’s torture chamber. He’s not going to take that into bed with Sam.
There’s water coming out of the ancient looking tab in the adjoined bathroom that only contains a large bathtub. The water is cold, but Dean doesn’t mind. This might be the only place in Hell that has any water at all.
Except for the stinking basins in this fourth circle where they like to drown soul for fun.
All the time while he’s washing up, he keeps his mental fingers on Sam’s soul, feeling it gradually calm down. The relief about having Dean back is getting stronger by the second, as if Sam only now realised it’s all over and the mere knowledge that Dean is close to him is enough to keep the cage far away.
When Dean emerges back into the bedroom, Sam is still sitting on the bed, the bandages that used to cover the cuts in his arms now lying in heaps on the floor.
Sam looks up and offers a tired smile. “It stopped bleeding,” he says.
+*+*+
“So,” Dean says, flopping down beside Sam who’s naked like him and half-twisted in the covers of their bed. Despite the picture they would offer to anyone stupid enough to come in they haven’t done anything, though Dean would seriously like to. He wants nothing more than to press Sam down into the mattress and make him forget the rest of the world even exists. Instead he says, “Kidnapped, huh?”
Sam blinks at him. “What?”
“You said Meg kidnapped me. I’m not a kid, Sammy.” He reaches out to stroke Sam’s cheek. “I’m very, very much not a kid.”
Sam leans into his touch and closes his eyes, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. “Neither am I, and yet you keep calling me Sammy.”
Dean kisses him, much gentler than he feels like doing. “You love that. Admit it.”
“I love you. I’m willing to make sacrifices for that.”
Dean would like to have a snippy retort to that, but all he can think of is Sam going to Heaven for him. His fingers find the deep cut on Sam’s lower arm and carefully trace the line of uneven stitches. “Jimmy did this?”
“Yeah. He helped me a lot.”
Dean barely listens, too distracted by the injury that is so minor compared by some they suffered while alive. Thanks to Sam’s nature being so in tune with Hell, the cuts finally stopped bleeding when Cas said they never would, but they still look ugly and probably hurt like a bitch. They won’t magically disappear like wounds suffered on a rack. Just like all the bruises and the raw and burned looking skin that was covered by the shackles, they will heal at a normal pace and leave scars.
Worst is the burn on Sam’s stomach. It’s hard for Dean to even look at it too closely. His fingers shy away from touching the symbol and even with their bond he can only guess how it feels to have something like that branded into his skin. This one will not heal, but they can’t allow it to remain there either. If there’s no other way, Dean will cut it out himself. He’d hate doing that, but he’d hate someone else doing it even more.
And afterwards someone will have to pay. He’ll find the angel that did this and there will be nothing, absolutely nothing merciful about his death.
It’s at times like this that Dean has to face the fact that the demon inside him, the one willing to tear apart the world and not waste a single tear on it is mostly just him. Because he would tear the world apart for Sam and smile as it burns. Sam isn’t all that matters to him but without Sam nothing else would. And if someone were to take his brother from him for good…
…he would stop being Dean Winchester then, plain and simple. Dean Winchester doesn’t exist without his brother, and the thing he would become wouldn’t have any reason for mercy.
“Why did Cas let you go?” he asks quietly.
Sam blinks at him, slow and tired. He looks like a lazy cat. Safe.
“You said to Jimmy he wanted you to get away. Why? Did he suddenly have a change of heart and become nice again?” The thing is, that wouldn’t even matter to Dean. Maybe it would have, once. Not now.
“No,” Sam says. “He’s exactly as you saw him last. But there’s something Jimmy told me. He said he kind of sees Cas in his real form whenever he takes over his vessel, and lately Cas is nearly gone. There’s just all those things from purgatory, like shadows, and Cas is somewhere inside that. Jimmy said he sometimes hears him call out.”
He doesn’t need to say any more - Dean can see where this is going. “He wants me to help him.”
“He wants you to kill him, yes,” Sam confirms. “He knows you’re the only one who would be stubborn and determined enough to try and kill God. I guess it’s the only way out he sees for himself. He can’t go back.”
“And he hurt you to provoke me into trying.” Dean clenches his hand, the one not stroking Sam’s arm. The news of his former friend being desperate and suicidal does nothing to make him think any more fondly of him. Not when Cas, influenced by purgatory or not, thought it was okay to torture Sam in order to reach his goal.
“I guess everything he does is influenced by the souls,” Sam says softly, as if reading his mind. “It gets twisted, even when he’s working on his own destruction. They’ve become one, and what is left of Cas hates himself yet isn’t able to care enough to not want to hurt us.”
“He hates himself?” Dean asks sceptically.
“There must be a reason he allowed Jimmy to see everything they did to me. I think he wanted him to see what Cas has become.”
It’s so abstract, and so typically Sammy to analyse things like that while he’s being tortured. But even if he’s right, it doesn’t matter. Cas destroyed Sam’s only protection against the cage, thus effectively killing him and causing Sam and Dean to both end up in Hell, when he was still very much himself.
“You know that changes nothing, don’t you?” he says quietly. “I’m still going to kill him.”
Sam finally opens his eyes fully and looks at Dean, and Dean doesn’t need any special bond right now to see his feelings. Worry for Dean overlaps all. Not doubt in his abilities to kill anything he sets his mind on killing, just worry because he loves him and killing God is pretty damn big. “We’ll do it together,” he says before reaching up and pulling Dean down so he’s half lying on Sam. Skin against skin, both their bodies hard with muscles and marred with scars and warm and there.
Dean shifts around until Sam is resting in his arms and allows him to fall asleep. He knows his brother is hurting and exhausted beyond belief, hasn’t been able to sleep for more than a year. They have been separated for far too long, have both been tortured and used, but that’s over now. Dean will finally find rest in the knowledge that Sam is in the only place that is truly safe: here, in his arms, protected and protecting. Now he can heal. They both can, and they both will.
For now, that is all that matters. Everything else - defending their devil’s gate and their territory, reorganizing their men, even Cas - can wait.
Dean buries his face in his brother’s hair and closes his eyes.
His sleep is dreamless.
+*End*+
Masterpost
The funny thing is that nothing the bitch can do to him comes even close to hurting Dean as much as simply being here does. She knows that, of course. Has been riding that fact for ages now.
Fucking bitch. She’s so fucking overdue for having her rotten soul burned out of her.
Unfortunately, Dean can’t do that. He doesn’t have Sam’s powers and staring angrily at her doesn’t do anything but make her laugh. Of course, if Sam had been here he wouldn’t have been able to do it either, because there are ways of blocking those powers of his and Meg isn’t so stupid to go anywhere near him unless it’s safe. Dean still likes to indulge in the fantasy that his brother would show up and toast her slowly and painfully while she busies herself directing her lackeys how to carve him up next.
Of course that’s not an ideal fantasy. Dean is supposed to rescue Sammy, not the other way round. He’s supposed to rescue Sammy right now, and the fantasy of how he busts into Heaven, frees Sam from his chains and then lets him watch as Dean rips out Cas’ multi-dimensional entrails and smears them all over the walls is an even sweeter one.
Worst of all is that he actually had a way to do that, minus the murder and mayhem. Briefly, Dean was in the possession of the Key to Heaven, one of the weapons Balthazar had stolen, and with it even a demon like him can enter Heaven on his own. Better even - while in the possession of the key his presence would have gone unnoticed. So while Dean might not have been able to cause a little carnage, he at least could have gotten Sam out, and his insides still clench at the thought that he was so close and still failed.
Because he would have needed time to make it work. Time Cas didn’t give him.
And now he can’t even work on finding another way to save Sam because Dean can’t get away and Sam’s not here. (Sam’s not here, Sam’s not here Sam’s not here notherenotherenothere.) And it’s driving Dean crazy. It’s been the only thing he can think of for a long time. He can’t sense his brother anymore, and that’s a first since the moment he slit his own throat to give Cas the finger and then proceeded to give the finger to two reapers who wanted to take his brother away from him. That moment, standing beside their own dead bodies, was the first time in ages Sam even recognized Dean’s face and the connection he’d felt when they clung together, refusing to let forces beyond life and death tear them apart, the sense of Sam never disappeared afterwards. Dean always knew where his brother was or how he was doing.
But ever since Sam was taken to Heaven the connection has been getting weaker, as if that distance, at least, is too great. The brief visits Dean made renewed the strange bond between them, but it’s been too long and Sam simply faded away. Dean doesn’t know how he’s doing. The last things he sensed from him have been pain (ignored), worry (for Dean) and barely controlled rage. It’s been getting fainter as the connection faded until Dean could barely even sense his brother’s existence.
Even that is gone now. And Dean doesn’t know.
“I hear your feathery friend send for you,” Meg told him about a week after getting the drop on him and dragging him here. “What do you think he’ll do to little Sammy if you don’t show up?”
And after another ten days filled with much agony and even more impotent rage, she said, “Seems dear Cas got impatient. Parts of your brother have been raining down to earth for three days now.” And she smiled her ugly, ugly smile. “Oops. Well, at least now you can start to concentrate on the important things, like where your own bits will land when I’m done with you.”
But Dean never thought about that. He knows Meg wants him to think Sam is gone. He knows why. But he doesn’t think Sam is, because he can’t believe Cas would do that. Not because he’s too good a person for that but because even changed as he is he knows Sam is the way to control Dean. He must know Dean would be there at his beg and call if he could, and killing Sam would mean giving away the only leverage he could ever hope to get.
No, Sam’s still there. What Dean thinks of is the fucking knife. The cuts Cas inflicted on Sam and the threat of cutting off bits and pieces that will never grow back. Dean is pretty sure new-Cas is not above that.
Fortunately, Meg doesn’t know about that knife. Her taunts are poking into the dark and so far she’s missed any sore spots because she doesn’t know what Dean is really afraid of.
Sam won’t be killed, but there are so many much worse things that can be done to him.
The worst of them being him getting swallowed by his memories of the cage. The kind of memories that tear down their home and create monsters out of thin air. And maybe, with Heaven being so alien to Sam, he won’t be able to get back…
“Seriously, Dean,” Meg says from somewhere behind him. “Don’t be so stubborn. There’s nothing to fight for, is there? Without Sammy? Don’t worry, it’s going to be so much better once you let go.”
The bitter thing is that she’s right. If Sam was gone, if he really was gone - erased from existence, no soul to retrieve, no hope of finding him again in Heaven, Hell, purgatory or wherever - then there would be nothing left for Dean. He might let go then, stop being who he was because that person doesn’t exist without Sam, and hope to find relief in the mindless cruelty of a true demon. And he feels it inside him, that pull - feels the demon he would have become had Castiel not saved him so long ago. It’s always stronger in Hell, as if it sucks in the spirit of the place and can’t wait to be born, but against Sam it doesn’t stand a chance.
And Sam’s still there. Somewhere. And he needs Dean - Dean, not something else - to come for him.
“Change the record bitch,” Dean pressed out through a bloody grin. “This one is getting old.”
She comes into view from the left and as always it’s hard to interpret her expression since she hardly has a face to wear one. She’s lost her human self-image so long ago she probably wouldn’t be able to recognize her original face if someone pushed her non-existent nose into it. When Dean was first taken here she resembled the body she’s been wearing while on earth, but even that has been dropping away bit by bit so now she’s little more than a torn grimace with single strands of hair.
Her lackeys don’t look any better. It’s what Hell does to those who forget who they used to be.
She takes the knife this time. Dean knows this whole thing is getting to her pride. Meg went through Alastair’s school of torture and should be able to break Dean just as well as her master had. The circumstances are different of course, but Meg still needs this to prove herself. Personal hatred also plays a part, not to mention that she needs Dean broken to get what she wants.
Finishing her teacher’s job is not what she is after. Meg feels no misguided loyalty to the guy who once tortured the humanity out of her, although she takes a certain pride in having learned from the best. No, what she wants is the powerful demon Dean has the potential of becoming under her control. She wants the territory he rules with Sam, and she needs a weapon against Sam whom she believes to be dead about as much as Dean does.
She’s tried this before. She also tried getting Dean over Sam, but that backfired terribly. Now Sam’s not here (not here!), Dean is vulnerable and no one can get him out of here but himself.
Which he intends to do. And then he’ll bring the bitch’s head to Cas as a present when he goes for a visit!
For now he grinds his teeth and does his best not to scream. Screaming isn’t actually that bad he’s learned during his first trip to Hell - everyone does (except for Sam, but Sam is so fucked in the head that he doesn’t think a missing limb is a serious injury), it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But in this case, Dean simply doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
He’s only just been healed, even got all his fingers back, which would be nice if he wasn’t sure he’s going to lose them again soon enough. Currently, Meg’s back to tearing off his skin in little slices and Dean has to admit that really fucking hurts.
But it hurts not nearly as much as the gnawing hole inside him that Sam used to fill.
Suddenly Meg drops the knife and is right in Dean’s face - so close he nearly suffocates on the smell of sulphur. “Scream for me, Dean,” she coos. “Sammy’s not going to make you do that anymore.” She touches him in places her hands don’t belong, but at least those places are currently still attached to his body. “Be nice to me and I’ll make you forget why you ever thought fucking your brother’d be the ultimate kick. Or you continue to play hard to get and I’ll eat your dick while my boys make you scream for an entirely different reason.”
“Hate to break the news to you,” Dean gasps, “but you’re not exactly every boy’s wet dream. I’d rather eat my dick myself that stick it in you.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says and draws away. “Hey, boys,” she sing-songs as she steps away from the cross Dean is nailed to. “Playtime!”
Dean doesn’t do them the favour of showing any reaction to the prospect of another few hours or days of being stripped of flesh and muscle, played with and sliced to pieces. The fact that they have nothing on Alastair when it comes to creativity and determination still doesn’t make it fun.
This is different from Dean’s first trip down not only because of the head-torturer, though. For one, during his first trip he didn’t have any prospect of ever getting away so there really was nothing for him to hold on for but himself. And he was never that good at doing things for himself, had learned too well from too early an age to do things for his dad and Sam first and forget himself in the process. Not really a surprise he failed, then - even though that doesn’t lessen the shame.
At least it didn’t back then. Being a demon and well adjusted to Hell changes the perspective on basically everything.
Which is the other thing that’s different. Not only does Dean have to hold on for Sam which is so much second nature to him that anything else is unthinkable, he’s also a demon now and has a much worse demon sitting somewhere inside him, waiting for a chance to be born. And this demon isn’t scared, as the old Dean has been. It isn’t desperate and hopeless in the face of unbearable agony without any hope for an end.
This demon is fucking pissed.
But the temptation… The temptation is still there. Back then, Dean has been tempted by the promise of the pain, fear and humiliation finally stopping. This time he knows that if only he gives in, if only he gets off this rack, he can tear them apart as they did him. Only he’ll do it better. He’ll make them regret that they ever laid hand on him. They’ll have all their taunts cut off their tongues in stripes and before he destroys them so thoroughly that they’ll never come back again in any shape or form he’ll make sure they realise what a fucking mistake it was to make him angry.
On top of that he’ll make them taste the humiliation of seeing that the pathetic skills they are so proud of are nothing compared to his.
And when he’s done with them, he’ll move on to Meg. Meg, who keeps him from saving Sam. That thought is like a drug to the demon inside him. She’s harming Sammy and Dean will make her pay, and it would be so easy…
The rage in Dean is almost all-consuming and in a way it’s harder to fight than the desperation has been all those years ago. It’s fed by the very basic need to get back at these smug bastards, by worry, the need to do something and the knowledge that he could.
Meg thinks she can control him. He’s gonna show her-
And then he would go get Sam from Heaven, but the person he would be then isn’t someone he wants anywhere near his brother. This is what keeps him from giving in just for the sake of it, but the more Dean thinks about Sam in Heaven the more he starts to wonder if him becoming a monster would really be that much worse for Sam than what he might suffer now.
For now, all Dean does in defiance is glare at the demon with the ugly twisted features and the rusty hammer in his hand with all the rage he is feeling and bare his teeth. The demon flinches away and hesitates to come near him; there is some meagre satisfaction in that, at least.
But of course that’s not going to help Sammy at all.
What does help Sam is the fact that, as it turns out, he’s not imprisoned in Heaven anymore. Dean can only stare, not really comprehending what he sees, when the tall, slender shape of his brother drops down on the balcony behind his torturers. Sam doesn’t make a sound - not when he arrives and not when he enters through the glassless window, and Dean is almost convinced he’s imagining his appearance. He almost wishes he was imagining this because here Sam is, so close to him, and Dean still senses nothing. And that would mean, that would mean the connection they had, once lost, won’t come back. That would mean he’s never going to feel his brother again. Not like that.
But in the end Dean doesn’t think that much. He’s really just staring, with some panic and confusion and ridiculous pride running in wordless circles as he watches Sam walk into the room, draw a knife from underneath his vest and stick it into the back of the demon nearest to Dean before anyone else notices he’s there.
The other nameless jackass has a chance to be a little shocked and afraid before Sam throws him away with a gesture of his hand and makes him combust into ashes. Then Sam drops down on the fallen demon and sticks the knife in his face, just when the demon tries to get up again.
Meg doesn’t stay to watch, clever bitch that she is. Unfortunately for her, she finds herself thrown against a wall and held there, without Sam even so much as looking at her.
Dean wonders distantly if it’s a coincidence that she landed on one of the spikes that have held him upright during his first week here. As he watches Sam place his hand on the forehead of the helpless demon beneath him and the guy screams while his essence is burned away in a process that takes much longer than it needs to, he kind of doubts it.
When he is done, Sam comes over to where Dean is hanging. Without doubt he wants to free him, but all Dean can see is how pale and bruised he looks, and the bandages where Cas cut him; all the rage is back. Rage directed at Cas. Cas hurt Sam. Cas imprisoned him and inflicted wounds that won’t heal and used him against Dean, and he took him from Dean. He cut the bond between them, made sure that Dean can only look at Sam and see his injuries but not sense them. They will forever be limited to words and Dean will hurt Cas for that.
Then the nails that went through his hands are gone and he’s falling right into Sam’s arms - and the moment they touch everything is flooding back to him. Suddenly Sam is there, right inside him where he should be, and Dean can feel his exhaustion and pain, and the old memories of unspeakable horrors that are crashing against his consciousness like waves, threatening to overwhelm him and so much stronger without Dean there to focus on and help keep them away. But all that lies forgotten and unimportant under the incredible worry Sam felt for him, the relief of having him back and the rage that Dean’s been hurt. There’s a need for revenge that rivals his brother’s, and then there’s Dean’s own rage and worry and his own relief, so much stronger than Sam’s and beyond his brother’s understanding because Sam doesn’t sense Dean the way Dean senses him.
It’s too much all at once. Dean sways under the onslaught but Sam keeps him upright, keeps him stable. Then Sam makes a surprised noise when Dean fists his hands into his hair and pulls him into a kiss, pressing their bodies together as if he could merge with Sam in body as in soul, right here and now, and fuck that bitch who’s watching with blood running over her mangled lips. Dean kisses Sam like he’s air Dean needs to breathe and Sam returns every kiss, not quite getting it but so, so happy to have him back.
Dean’s hands are punctured and leave bloody trails on Sam’s skin as they roam all over his body, but Dean doesn’t care. This is his sign: Look, this is mine and if you touch it I’m going to rip you apart! There’s pain but Sam is keeping him upright and Dean already feels himself knitting back together as if simply being near Sam made that happen. It probably does, too, because this is Hell and Hell, if he ever wanted it to, would be Sam’s pet.
Then Dean’s hand brushes over the bandage on Sam’s upper arm and comes back slick with blood that isn’t his.
Sam’s blood. The blood that should never be spilled. It pulls Dean back to the present and the place and he separates from his brother, waking towards Meg’s pathetic, impaled form on legs that are more willing to carry him with every step he takes. Someone needs to die, and even though Meg never touched Sam (this time), she’ll make a good, slow start.
She knows it, too. Tries desperately to get away and something dark and ugly in Dean is utterly delighted by the fear he sees in her eyes.
But Sam, to his shock and consternation, holds him back. “Wait,” he says, before turning to look at Meg. “I have an offer for you,” he tells her.
*+*+*
Sam and Meg don’t seal their deal with a kiss. It’s not that kind of deal and Dean is grateful for small mercies. It’s bad enough that she’s going to live (for now), although seeing Sam stick a hand in her chest and twist it around in the smoky black mess that is her soul did offer a certain satisfaction. It’s not fair, though - he wanted to hurt her!
By the time they make their way back home, Dean’s injuries are mostly healed, but he’s still sore and exhausted; nothing will magically snap that away. He’ll need a little rest before going to figure out a way to kill Cas, and he intends to get that rest in his bed with Sam pressed against him and shielded from the rest of the world.
There are two ways to get back home and they pick the fast one because apparently home is falling apart and they have a confused Jimmy Novak as a guest, which leads to a confused Dean. So it seems Jimmy was with Sam in Heaven all the time.
Huh.
Since walking would take too long, Sam takes a leap off the balcony, flies a little circle and then grabs Dean under the arms to lift him off as well. Dean would rather walk, actually, since Sam’s wings are injured and flying can’t be much fun, but Sam insists. It leads to Dean hanging off him all the way up, sensing the pain and effort his brother is going through.
He’ll kick him for that, later. When he has ground under his feet to stand on.
The fortress has changed since Dean left it. It’s crumbled and dirty, and a whole wing is gone entirely. Not fallen apart but gone as if it was never there in the first place. The only reason Dean knows it’s missing is because he remembers it being there.
The place protected by Sam’s subconscious is falling apart and Sam is just a few steps away from a mental breakdown. Dean can sense that, too - his brother was alone for too long, has been imprisoned and tortured for too long. While he doesn’t sense Dean the way Dean senses him his brother’s presence is still something that keeps him stable, and the separation was hard on him. He’s doing his best to focus and not give in to his memories of a different Hell but Dean fears that everything will come crashing down on Sammy the moment the worst is over and he has time to breathe.
Well, not if Dean can prevent it. And he knows some things that are pretty distracting.
Now yet, though. First they have to figure out what to do with Jimmy, who betrayed Castiel and is on the run from Heaven. They have no interest in feeding him to the angels, yet he can’t stay here either. Hell corrupts just by being in it, and besides, Jimmy doesn’t seem to be liking the place very much.
He’s not seeing it on one of the better days.
At least the screams have stopped. It’s blessedly silent in their territory for the first time since Sam left here, and after a few minutes Dean realises that the stench of sulphur is gone as well.
Everyone is pretty exited to see them. Everyone present, anyway. A lot of their closest friends are out right now, fighting attacking enemies and naturally, Sam wants to go and help them. Dean wants that too, but neither of them is exactly up to it at the moment. They send out word that the boy king has returned, though, and that’s probably going to discourage a lot of the attackers.
None of the battles going on is particularly fierce anyway. Mostly, the enemies are lurking around, watching and waiting for a chance to strike. They have lost a grand total of no one to the attacks except for Mel who was killed by Heaven. Dean can tell the exact moment Sam notices her absence by the wave of sadness and rage running through him.
“It was an angel,” he says before Sam can ask. “They didn’t want me to have help on my mission.”
Sam nods wordlessly, his face remaining blank. Dean doesn’t know what he’s thinking - it doesn’t work that way - but he knows the loss and the circumstances leading to it hit his brother hard.
No one told Sam about the girl. He just knows she’s not there anymore, just like he knows Andy’s coming before they can see him. It’s a special irony of fate that he can sense everyone but Dean.
That’s okay, though. He can watch over everyone else while Dean watches over him.
As big brother, lover and protector, it’s his first instinct to get Sam to their bed, take care of his wounds, see if he can do something about those cuts he simply can’t and won’t let bleed and hurt for the rest of eternity. Then he’d make Sammy rest because the flight took what was left of his reserves and now he’s trembling against Dean, out of breath and feeling every wound in a way he didn’t when Dean was still in danger.
But Dean can’t follow his instinct yet, because Sam won’t let him. There’s too much he feels he still has to do.
Andy is the first to come over and welcome his king back to their kingdom. Soon enough the place is going to be swarming with people who want to do the same and maybe give their report in the process. Maybe they’re happy to see Dean, too, but Dean’s done a lot of yelling lately and they probably didn’t miss him all that much. It’s okay with him - actually, he intends to kick them all out, take Sammy and lock them away in their chambers before his brother can get the idea the he’s still well enough to take care of each and every problem that came up at once.
All that yelling he did was worth something, Dean soon realises. One glare is enough to convince everyone they are actually busy elsewhere and don’t want to bother their king any longer. But even after they are all gone Dean’s sticking pretty close to his brother. He has this irrational fear that the moment he lets go Sam is going to be gone again, or fall apart, or this wonderful, wonderful bond between them that even Castiel-with-the-power-of-God couldn’t destroy will be lost. So he has one arm wrapped around Sam’s shoulders while they’re talking to Jimmy, his fingers distractedly stroking the slightly damp bandage on Sam’s upper arm.
Jimmy is the only one left, if only because Sam explicitly told him to stay. He looks decidedly uncomfortable watching them and Dean smirks at him, letting his eyes flash black in the demonic form of a wink.
“Your family is safe,” Sam tells his human friend whom Dean likes but still feels like punching on the ground of him looking like Cas. Or Cas looking like him. Either way, his face is not something Dean wants to see right now.
Even though he likes him.
Dean is a demon. He has a right to be conflicted about stuff.
“How? Why?” Jimmy wants to know and doesn’t seem convinced at all.
“Because a very powerful demon is very interested in them not coming to any harm.” Sam stretches out his hand and a puff of black smoke appears, curling and twisting on his hand. “This is a rather crucial part of the essence of the demon who kidnapped Dean. If I destroy it, she’s destroyed with it.”
“So in other words, we own her ugly ass,” Dean says with some glee.
“Don’t worry,” Sam adds. “She’s good at what she does. Be it other demons or angels, they will think twice about coming near your family after she killed the first few.”
“But she’s a demon!” Jimmy protests. Dean wonders if he should feel insulted.
“And as such you can rely on her self-preservation instincts,” Sam assures him. “Since I’m going to destroy her even if your wife or daughter are mauled by a random poltergeist or hit by a car, I’d say they are now safer than they were ever before. And don’t worry about the bad influence - no demon will go near them unless they have to.”
Jimmy still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but some of the tension leaves his body.
“Now we have to see what to do with you,” Dean says. “I don’t assume you want to stay.”
Jimmy shakes his head. “I want to go back.”
Sam breathes in sharply. “To Heaven?”
“Yes.”
“Cas must know you helped me. He’s going to hurt you.”
“Still.” Jimmy sets his jaw in a stubborn line that reminds Dean of Sam. “I have to go back to him. Cas has been betrayed by everyone he trusted. And I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but he’s being controlled by all those things and…” He takes a deep breath. “He needs me. He needs someone to stick with him.”
Were Dean mean he could argue that a single human soul isn’t going to make a difference to a self-proclaimed God. But he has to admit that he’s a little impressed here. Nothing will make him any less angry with Cas or make him kill the dick any less slowly if he gets the chance, but he has to admire this loyalty to someone who never offered any favours in the first place.
Even if Cas betrayed them - betrayed Sammy - before he ever absorbed purgatory. Maybe Dean should say something after all, since Jimmy is walking the very thin line between loyalty and idiocy.
But Sam is quicker. “If you really want to return, I’ll help you,” he says. “For the angels who saw us it must’ve been hard to tell if you helped me escape of if I took you hostage. We’ll make it look like you managed to escape from here.”
Jimmy looks sceptical but a little hopeful, too. “You think that’ll work?”
“I don’t know,” Sam openly admits. “But think how easy it was for you to free me. I think Cas wanted me to get away.”
“Why?”
“You know why, right?” Sam looks at Jimmy and Jimmy looks at Sam and Dean holds Sam a little closer, feeling left out because he doesn’t know anything.
Eventually Jimmy nods. “Not sure that’s going to help.”
Sam turns to Dean. “You have any messages for Cas, Dean?”
It seems random and takes Dean by surprise. “Apart from that I’m going to fry his ass the next time I see him? No.”
But Sam seems satisfied with that. He says goodbye to Jimmy, thanks him for his help and orders two demons to escort him to the surface and then make sure to get away before any angels show up.
When they are gone, Dean and Sam are alone and Sam sways a little on his feet.
“Easy, tiger!” Dean is there to support him but he can feel Hell in Sam’s mind. That he can still feel it is a good sign, though, because just before it all breaks out the connection always weakens, as if Sam were trying to protect him. He probably is, despite not even sensing the bond the way Dean does.
Now, Dean has to distract him before things get out of hand. And get him to rest. He leads his brother to the chamber that serves as their bedroom and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed, all the time talking nonsense, just like he did when they were alive and he needed to distract Sam from a broken bone. Sam doesn’t say anything, just plays around with the bandage on his arm that will forever serve to fuel Dean’s hatred for Cas.
He wants to lie down with Sam and hold him close, but first he needs to wash up, get rid of the stink of Meg’s torture chamber. He’s not going to take that into bed with Sam.
There’s water coming out of the ancient looking tab in the adjoined bathroom that only contains a large bathtub. The water is cold, but Dean doesn’t mind. This might be the only place in Hell that has any water at all.
Except for the stinking basins in this fourth circle where they like to drown soul for fun.
All the time while he’s washing up, he keeps his mental fingers on Sam’s soul, feeling it gradually calm down. The relief about having Dean back is getting stronger by the second, as if Sam only now realised it’s all over and the mere knowledge that Dean is close to him is enough to keep the cage far away.
When Dean emerges back into the bedroom, Sam is still sitting on the bed, the bandages that used to cover the cuts in his arms now lying in heaps on the floor.
Sam looks up and offers a tired smile. “It stopped bleeding,” he says.
+*+*+
“So,” Dean says, flopping down beside Sam who’s naked like him and half-twisted in the covers of their bed. Despite the picture they would offer to anyone stupid enough to come in they haven’t done anything, though Dean would seriously like to. He wants nothing more than to press Sam down into the mattress and make him forget the rest of the world even exists. Instead he says, “Kidnapped, huh?”
Sam blinks at him. “What?”
“You said Meg kidnapped me. I’m not a kid, Sammy.” He reaches out to stroke Sam’s cheek. “I’m very, very much not a kid.”
Sam leans into his touch and closes his eyes, exhaustion radiating off him in waves. “Neither am I, and yet you keep calling me Sammy.”
Dean kisses him, much gentler than he feels like doing. “You love that. Admit it.”
“I love you. I’m willing to make sacrifices for that.”
Dean would like to have a snippy retort to that, but all he can think of is Sam going to Heaven for him. His fingers find the deep cut on Sam’s lower arm and carefully trace the line of uneven stitches. “Jimmy did this?”
“Yeah. He helped me a lot.”
Dean barely listens, too distracted by the injury that is so minor compared by some they suffered while alive. Thanks to Sam’s nature being so in tune with Hell, the cuts finally stopped bleeding when Cas said they never would, but they still look ugly and probably hurt like a bitch. They won’t magically disappear like wounds suffered on a rack. Just like all the bruises and the raw and burned looking skin that was covered by the shackles, they will heal at a normal pace and leave scars.
Worst is the burn on Sam’s stomach. It’s hard for Dean to even look at it too closely. His fingers shy away from touching the symbol and even with their bond he can only guess how it feels to have something like that branded into his skin. This one will not heal, but they can’t allow it to remain there either. If there’s no other way, Dean will cut it out himself. He’d hate doing that, but he’d hate someone else doing it even more.
And afterwards someone will have to pay. He’ll find the angel that did this and there will be nothing, absolutely nothing merciful about his death.
It’s at times like this that Dean has to face the fact that the demon inside him, the one willing to tear apart the world and not waste a single tear on it is mostly just him. Because he would tear the world apart for Sam and smile as it burns. Sam isn’t all that matters to him but without Sam nothing else would. And if someone were to take his brother from him for good…
…he would stop being Dean Winchester then, plain and simple. Dean Winchester doesn’t exist without his brother, and the thing he would become wouldn’t have any reason for mercy.
“Why did Cas let you go?” he asks quietly.
Sam blinks at him, slow and tired. He looks like a lazy cat. Safe.
“You said to Jimmy he wanted you to get away. Why? Did he suddenly have a change of heart and become nice again?” The thing is, that wouldn’t even matter to Dean. Maybe it would have, once. Not now.
“No,” Sam says. “He’s exactly as you saw him last. But there’s something Jimmy told me. He said he kind of sees Cas in his real form whenever he takes over his vessel, and lately Cas is nearly gone. There’s just all those things from purgatory, like shadows, and Cas is somewhere inside that. Jimmy said he sometimes hears him call out.”
He doesn’t need to say any more - Dean can see where this is going. “He wants me to help him.”
“He wants you to kill him, yes,” Sam confirms. “He knows you’re the only one who would be stubborn and determined enough to try and kill God. I guess it’s the only way out he sees for himself. He can’t go back.”
“And he hurt you to provoke me into trying.” Dean clenches his hand, the one not stroking Sam’s arm. The news of his former friend being desperate and suicidal does nothing to make him think any more fondly of him. Not when Cas, influenced by purgatory or not, thought it was okay to torture Sam in order to reach his goal.
“I guess everything he does is influenced by the souls,” Sam says softly, as if reading his mind. “It gets twisted, even when he’s working on his own destruction. They’ve become one, and what is left of Cas hates himself yet isn’t able to care enough to not want to hurt us.”
“He hates himself?” Dean asks sceptically.
“There must be a reason he allowed Jimmy to see everything they did to me. I think he wanted him to see what Cas has become.”
It’s so abstract, and so typically Sammy to analyse things like that while he’s being tortured. But even if he’s right, it doesn’t matter. Cas destroyed Sam’s only protection against the cage, thus effectively killing him and causing Sam and Dean to both end up in Hell, when he was still very much himself.
“You know that changes nothing, don’t you?” he says quietly. “I’m still going to kill him.”
Sam finally opens his eyes fully and looks at Dean, and Dean doesn’t need any special bond right now to see his feelings. Worry for Dean overlaps all. Not doubt in his abilities to kill anything he sets his mind on killing, just worry because he loves him and killing God is pretty damn big. “We’ll do it together,” he says before reaching up and pulling Dean down so he’s half lying on Sam. Skin against skin, both their bodies hard with muscles and marred with scars and warm and there.
Dean shifts around until Sam is resting in his arms and allows him to fall asleep. He knows his brother is hurting and exhausted beyond belief, hasn’t been able to sleep for more than a year. They have been separated for far too long, have both been tortured and used, but that’s over now. Dean will finally find rest in the knowledge that Sam is in the only place that is truly safe: here, in his arms, protected and protecting. Now he can heal. They both can, and they both will.
For now, that is all that matters. Everything else - defending their devil’s gate and their territory, reorganizing their men, even Cas - can wait.
Dean buries his face in his brother’s hair and closes his eyes.
His sleep is dreamless.
+*End*+
Masterpost