Chapter Text
When Sam woke up next, it was more peaceful. He hadn’t had any good dreams, no nightmares. And he almost preferred the nothingness.
It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer on the floor, instead having been moved to the bed.
He laid there for a few minutes blinking up a the ceiling. Waiting to see if it devolved into a blood dripping mess like from the shining. When it didn’t Sam risked looking around.
Dean was sitting at the table, using the knife to carve stakes with what most likely used to be the other chair. Sam’s chest tightened. His world was falling apart. But Dean was still so very much himself. Voice or not.
As Sam struggled to sit up, Dean glanced over, putting the knife down. He came over to Sam, sitting down on the corner of the bed, handing one of the finished stakes over to him.
Sam took it in surprise.
Break Glass In Case Of Emergencies- Was carved into it with Dean’s looping handwriting.
Sam rolled his eyes. Dean must be pretty bored to take the time to rub salt in the wound.
“Thanks, Dean.”
Dean clicked his teeth in reply. Moving in for the bandages on Sam’s stomach. Gently peeling them back despite Sam’s hiss of protest.
He didn’t necessarily want to see, but Dean was insistent, holding the cloth away until Sam looked down.
Dean had cleaned up the drying blood at some point, leaving just the ugly wound. It wasn’t very long, just an inch or two. But Sam guessed it made up for it in depth. But the skin already looked like it was healing, red and puffy as it swelled up around the wound. Sam stared, noticing some of the edges of the cut were scabbing over.
“How long was I out?”
Dean held up five fingers.
“Five days!”
His brother shook his head.
“Five hours?”
Dean nodded. Sam stared again at the cut as Dean placed the bandages back into place.
“That’s impossible,” Sam told him.
Dean’s look said, ‘Come on, Sam.’
Nothing was ever really impossible. Not for them at least.
“Yeah, but I’m not…” Sam trailed off, re-thinking what he was about to say. He was supernatural. He was impossible. He was…. Whatever the hell he was now. Some kind of blood-drinking vampire that was sometimes evil. And a couple days ago he had pinned his brother to the floor with his mind to carve ruins into his skin that stole his voice. Yeah, compared to that, a cut healing far too quickly was pretty mundane.
Dean got up to grab the TV guide from the table, bringing it back to Sam.
Sam glanced at it, before handing it back, baffled.
Dean rolled his eyes, shoving it back.
Sam, I’m sorry, was written across the cover in pen.
Apparently, Dean had run out of room on his arm, and while Sam had been out, he’d gone searching for a better canvas.
“Why are you apologizing?” Sam said. “This is all my fault. We’re here because of me. I was supposed to save you from hell. And I couldn’t. And then, I was stupid, and I made everything worse, and then I-” he gestured at Dean’s throat, unwilling to have to say it out loud. “And now you have to submit your answers in between the dinner time lineup.”
Proving Sam’s point for him, Dean grabbed back the booklet, jotting down a quick note. Sam didn’t have a lot of hopes or goals for the future, but he vowed right then to try and find Dean something better to write on.
That wasn’t you.
No, it wasn’t. Not technically. But it was Sam’s body. He had lived through it, or pieces of it. He had allowed it to happen, and he hadn’t stopped it. He had made the deal in the first place. Speaking of…
Sam reached for Dean’s shirt, trying to tug it up an inch or two to see if the Hell-hound wounds were still there. But Dean jumped, swatting Sam’s hands away with a scowl.
Yeah, because that was fair. Dean could just go and mess with Sam’s bandages over his bloody, stab wound all he wanted. But the moment Sam got a little too close, he would get the, ‘Dude, Personal Space! Affronted look.
It was just another thing in the long list that Dean had been doing since they were kids. His whole. I can take care of you, and you’re not going to be a little bitch about it. But the fact that you were actually worried about me is just embarrassing for you.
But Sam wasn’t going to push the point now. Pointing to his stomach. “What about the Hell hound scars….”
Gone.
“All of them?”
Dean nodded, and Sam felt his shoulders slump in relief. At least one single good thing came out of all of this.
Dean was watching him. A frown on his lips. Crap.
What did you do?
“Don’t you already know?” Sam said.
Tell me anyway.
The moment of relief was long gone now as Sam stared down at the bedspread. He didn’t want to have to think about it, let alone relive it. But if Sam was going to make dumb decisions, the least he could do was own up to them.
“You died,” he said, determined not to look at Dean as he recounted it. “I was… upset. Kind of out of it. Lilith’s powers didn’t work on me for some reason. I don’t know why. Or who was more surprised. I stabbed her with the knife before she could make a run for it. And then I…” He didn’t know how to tell Dean this part. The part where he had sat there on the floor holding his body. Feeling his brother’s blood seep into his cloths. How when the devil had come knocking, Sam had taken his hand no questions asked, because… there was no because. Sam didn’t have a reason. He couldn’t explain himself.
“He- some demon- told me we could save you. And I believed him. It felt like I had to. So, we took you… er-” Sam corrected himself, his gaze still fixed to the bedspread. “We took your body to this little farmhouse. I think someone or something was trying to stop me. Stuff kept going wrong. But… I don’t know. I had to like…” this just got worse and worse the more he spoke, didn’t it? “-Carve symbols into us. And I recognized one from Bobby’s book as Satan’s seal.” Don’t look, don’t look at his face- Sam reminded himself. “I almost called it off when I had to drink demon blood. But he told me that you were in hell. And we had to save you. Otherwise, something really horrible would happen to you. So I did it. And then… then I told Lucifer that he could possess me.” NOT LOOKING! “I don’t know why I did it,” he told Dean. “I know it was stupid. I know it’s all my fault. I know everything bad that happens because of it is on me. I was just… messed up I, guess.”
Not that Sam was defending himself. Nor was he certain that he would make a different decision now. But he hadn’t exactly been in a sound state of mind when he had agreed to all of that. Certainly, it wouldn’t have held up in a court of law. That’s why most people didn’t sign up for timeshares immediately after watching their brother get violently murdered. It was bad faith. Although Sam wasn’t surprised to learn that stuff like that didn’t quite apply when dealing with the devil.
Sam lets the conversation lapse, unsure of what else to say. There was nothing to say to that. It was the one thing Dean made him promise not to do. Practically, his dying wish was for Sam to stay away from the demon crap because it always blew up in their faces. And here they were.
Sam wondered how long he could sit there, holding a staring contest with the bedspread. So much for owning up to his decisions.
See, this is why no one trusts you, Sam- he imagined Dean saying. This is why Dad told me to kill you. Because you keep fucking up.
Dean didn’t say any of that. Because, he couldn’t. Because Sam had messed up. For the first time Sam was almost grateful. Because otherwise Dean’s curses would probably be popping his eardrums by now.
He risked a glance over after a few minutes of curse-less silence.
Dean was staring at him. But he didn’t look mad. He didn’t look like he was about to punch Sam. He just looked tired. And way older than twenty-eight.
“I’m sorry,” Sam offered, knowing how weak it was. But it was all he had.
I know, Sammy.
Dean wrote before sliding the pages over to Sam. Sam stared at the little letters, feeling his emotions fighting inside his chest. How does one go about apologizing for starting the apocalypse? Probably the same way Sam had gotten into this situation, clumsily, and without a lot of foresight.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sam told him. It was a pointless thing to say. Of course, Dean knew that. But Sam still felt the need to say it all the same.
Dean shook his head, and Sam didn't know if that was Dean’s way of trying to comfort him, or telling him not to even go there. But he decided that he would rather not find out.
“What happened to you?” Sam asked, and Dean looked over at him, brow raised. It was almost funny how expressive he was, even without his voice. Although Sam could practically hear the replies he would say if he could. ‘What the hell do you think?’
Sam pushed the TV guide towards him, encouragingly. And Dean rolled his eyes as he snapped it up, furiously scrawling into the empty space between the pages.
Sam sat there patiently. Wondering if he really wanted to know or not.
Finally, Dean pushed the list back at him. And while it wasn't exactly an itinerary, it got his point across as he always seemed to do.
Puppy chow/ chew toy
Went to Hell
Not a fan.
You pulled me out. Except it wasn't you.
Trippy dreams
Got twilighted
Evil possessed you got bored and tried to argue philosophy with me.
He's super creepy BTW
IDK what happened after that
Got ariel-ed and couldn't talk anymore
Then got locked in this room for a while, can't tell how long it's been without windows or a clock.
A couple hours ago you stormed in.
Sam read the list over once, and then a second time to make sense of his brother’s Dean-isms. “Twilighted?”
Dean tugged down the cuff of his shirt for Sam to see the still-healing, gory flesh of his inner wrist.
Right where Sam had….
Sam's stomach turned and he looked away, trying to will himself not to throw up at the memory. The taste still fresh on his tongue, as was the demon's. This was doing nothing to quell his stomach.
“Sorry,” Sam said when he got ahold of himself. He wondered how much he could say it before it lost all meaning.
Wasn't you
Right. Sure. Except Sam had agreed to it. And it was Sam's body. And Dean was only in this situation because Sam was an idiot. But he knew Dean didn't want to get into this right now. And neither did he, so Sam kept going.
“What did he say to you?” Sam asked.
Dean snatched the book back.
Sammy, I'm freaking thrilled you are back and you again. But this isn't the best time for twenty questions. I'm running out of pages, and you have an open stab wound.
Sam's brow furrowed, “I'm fine,” he told Dean. “Just bottom line it for me.”
Dean frowned, but he did it all the same.
Dean- you swear too much- ‘They’ won't like that
Don't make me mad
You should be grateful to me- we saved you from hell
Blah Blah Blah- I fucked around in your head and want to share my thoughts about what your damage is
I thought you would be different
I'll miss your witty comebacks after I go all Ursula on your mermaid ass
‘It's risky to leave you awake with how volatile things are’ - or something like that
You were supposed to be the hero- but it was a crappy deal anyway
Life is a bitch, god is unfair, I'm actually doing you a favor
I'm rigging the game so there won't be one.
I'm possessing your brother, and I'm an evil demon with anger issues.
Sam once again re-read the messy notes, wondering how much was real, and how much was his brother being a smart ass and, how much was quoted. This would be so much easier if Dean could talk. But whose fault was it that he couldn't?
Sam may not have been paying attention- like at all- when he got them into this mess. But he figured now was as good a time as any to turn his supposidly intelligent brian back on, and try to figure what the hell was going on. Because from the shattered memories he had. This went way beyond a demon deal.
“There is something I don’t get.”
Dean gave him a look.
“One of the things I don’t get.” Sam said. “Why did he take your voice at all?”
I’m annoying?
“Well yeah,” Sam said, not even looking up to see if Dean was scowling, because of course he was. “But the way he was talking… It’s weird. I remember…” Sam glanced over at Dean before he turned his eyes down. “I remember bits of pieces from that,” he gestured to Dean’s collar. “From him doing that. His thoughts were all over the place. But he, the demon, it seemed like he wanted your soul. Like… kinda obsessively. I didn’t pick up on it that night because… well, I was being an idiot. But he mentioned needing to get the contract to control you. I thought he went and… got you… because I wanted it. But I don’t think that’s right. I think he wanted it too. I think someone else… was supposed to…” Sam trailed off.
This was uncomfortable at best. Even without factoring in how incredibly uncomfortable and messed up their current situation was to begin with. But talking about his older brother like he was a prized mule. One that was known for wandering off. And Sam had unknowingly started the bidding war on him. Now helpless to do anything to stop it.
He risked glancing up at Dean, but he was scribbling something down on the TV guide, showing it to Sam.
His brother?
Sam’s eyes widened as he glanced up at Dean, temporarily forgetting he had been trying to avoid that. “Yeah!” He said. “I remember him thinking- he wanted everything that belonged to his ‘perfect’ brother. I think he has a lot of issues with him.”
Perfect! Dean wrote.
“Maybe that’s why he’s doing this to you.” Sam said. “He’s trying to… stop his brother from…” Sam trailed off then, feeling the weight of Dean’s eyes on him. Watching him. And the words died on his tongue. Lucifer wanted Dean because he wanted everything that belonged to his brother, which in this case meant Sam’s brother. But Sam didn’t think he could say that out loud. When he tried his throat just closed up. Dean was still staring at him. Waiting for Sam to finish that thought. And just screw everything. If the world was going to end, why couldn’t it be quicker than this?
“He… Lucifer thinks you were meant to belong to his brother.” Sam finally said. “That’s why he took you. If he can… I don’t know… mark you, then his brother can’t get you. I think that’s why he took your voice. And… you know. The other thing.” The blood drinking thing. If this was like a crossroads deal, then the current claim over Dean’s soul was circumstantial. Otherwise, he wouldn’t need to go to such lengths.
Dean was writing again- pushing the paper towards Sam.
Why?
“I… I don’t think he gets along with his brother.” Sam said. “I think he likes annoying him.”
No, Dumbass. Why me! Dean wrote. Why you? How come we got caught up in the demon version of Wife Swap?
God, Dean being his typical smartass self had never been so comforting before. Sam would have smiled If not for the fact that demon wife swap was even more messed up than the reality show had been.
“I don’t know why.” Sam said. But that wasn’t true. Not really. He might not know the reason. But he knew that this too was his fault. If Sam had to guess, it was because Dean was his brother. And Sam had gotten Lucifer’s attention, becasue he was… himself. Unclean, impure, demonic, evil incarnate. Pick one. And Dean had been caught in the crossfire. Once again, Sam was screwing people over simply by standing too close to them. Like a detonating bomb.
But he couldn’t say that out loud. Not to Dean. He knew his brother didn’t want to hear it. In the same way someone’s mom would refuse to call their ugly children, ‘ugly’ to their faces. Dean wouldn’t call Sam evil. Even if it was true.
So Sam didn’t say it, brushing past the topic altogether. “I don’t know why it’s us,” he said. “But for whatever reason, it is. And I think this goes deeper than just one rouge demon. I think someone really big is going down right now. And I think we got caught in the crossfire.”
How do we stop it?
Sam stared at the little letters. “Dean…” he said. “We can’t.” They were in so deep that Sam doubted they would ever see the surface again. This wasn’t a regular hunt; this wasn’t even a demon thing. This was… a cosmic thing. Them stopping it was like trying to stop an asteroid from crashing into earth. No determination nor can-do attitude could change anything. Not when they were basically ants.
Dean stared at him. We have to! He wrote upside down, not even bothering to flip the Tv guide around. When Sam didn’t answer he tapped the sentence with his pen for emphasis. He was running out of space in the little booklet. Sam almost felt like laughing at the thought. When Dean ran out of pages, was that it? He just didn’t get to talk anymore. Did he only have the back page left to convince Sam. Or would he start writing on the walls next? Yes, Sam thought. He probably would.
“Dean,” Sam said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. He could not start crying again, Jesus. Not again. There had to be a limit on how much he did that. The apocalypse was no excuse. “There’s nothing we can do.” Sam doubted he could even help his brother. Let alone stop whatever was unfolding beyond the walls of this knock off hotel room in who knows where.
Don’t be a bitch, Sam!
And despite everything, Sam did finally laugh. More of a sharp huff. But it made him smile all the same. “I was expecting you to tell me something more profound,” Sam told him. “Like give me a speech about never giving up.”
Dean tapped the pen against his throat, reminding Sam that speeches weren’t really in his wheelhouse at the moment. Apparently, weak insults were.
“I’m trying to be realistic about this. About what I did to us.”
Dean clicked the pen over the word ‘bitch’.
“We can’t even help ourselves,” Sam told him.
Then we don’t. Dean wrote. But we have to try.
“Why are you like this?” Sam said, exasperation in his voice. “This is too big for us. Even on our best day. What are we going to accomplish trapped here? You can’t talk, and I’m….” Sam was mostly possessed by the anti-Christ these days.
Because this might be our fault.
There it was.
Dean wasn’t being a hero so much as he felt responsible. It wasn’t their fault,’ it was Sam’s fault. Dean knew that. Because when the unbreakable demon deals were going down, Dean had been a bloody corpse in Sam’s arms. Even Sam’s guilt-ridden hallucinations of Dean hadn’t been as stupid as Sam was.
No, this was because Sam had messed up… again. And it had always been Dean’s job to stop his screw up little brother from making a mess of things. His job to clean up after Sam. Because if Dean had actually been there, instead of rotting in hell, this wouldn’t have happened. Sam could almost hear John’s voice, ripping into the pair of them. Sam for being the anti-christ, and Dean for not finding a way to babysit Sam while also being dead.
Sam wanted to scream.
Sam wanted to tell Dean to get his own life.
Sam wanted to go back into the nothing again.
Sam did none of those things.
He didn’t get to be mad. And now was not the right time to get into a fight with his brother over boundaries. Yeah… after this, there would never be a right time. If somehow they survived this, Sam would never win an argument again. Not when all Dean had to say was, ‘yeah, well, remember that time you doomed us both and let yourself get possessed by Lucifer?”
‘Don’t be a bitch Sam,’- he reminded himself. Afterall, you can’t be both evil and a quiter. But it went beyond that. Sam didn’t get to just give up. That was too easy. No, if he was being punished, then he had to do it right. And that meant flailing in the spiders web for as long as he possibly could. Forever if needed.
He met Dean’s eyes. “You're right.” He told him. “We can fix this.” They couldn’t. “I did this. I will make it right.” Or, more likely, he would die trying. “Whatever it takes.”
But before Dean could respond, they heard a sound, a click, as the door in the other room opened.
Sam and Dean looked at each other. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
Sam didn’t think he could stand just yet, but he forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing his hand over the still-healing wound to try and hold back the pain. Dean sat still at his side. So close, Sam could feel his elbow brushing up against his side as he breathed. The stake clutched tight in Dean’s hand.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said, as a familiar figure stepped into the room. Seizing up the two of them. “Aren’t you two cute, conspiring all by yourselves.”
Dean said nothing. No surprise there.
Sam just stared, whatever words he had dying on his tongue as he looked over the face of the demon from all those months ago. No longer hiding behind Sam’s face, Lucifer smiled back at the two of them.
“This is going to be fun.”