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vail_kagamiFandom: Supernatural
Beta:
minviendha Characters (overall): Dean, Castiel, Sam, plus a number of angels and demons
Rating (overall): NC-17
Warnings (overall): violence, torture, drug use, insanity, mentions of rape
Spoilers: Going AU during episode 5.18: Point of No Return. No spoilers for after season five.
Words (this chapter): 8,469
Summary: A man wakes up in a ruined wasteland, without memories, without a name, without knowing the strange guy who claims he used to be an angel, or that he once had a little brother. All he knows is that the world is dying, everyone is lying to him and that somehow, somewhere, something went terribly wrong. Because someone said Yes when they should have said No, and someone else paid the price.
Masterpost
There is a wide, open place that they have to cross, and just when they are about to reach the shelter of a lone wall, hardly able to breathe for the wind and hardly able to move for the cold, the wall collapses, nearly hitting Cas and taking away their shield with something that almost tastes like intent.
They light has begun to fade when they find more sturdy walls that protect them from the worst, let them rest a few minutes, have something to drink. Sam takes some blood and Dean notices that it’s more than the day before. Then they have to move on. It’s not a place where they can spend the night, and there don’t seem to be any usable houses anywhere near. The day that seemed so long before is running out on them now, and Dean really doesn’t want to be still out here when it gets dark.
The darker it gets, however, the more the wind lessens. They are still out after nightfall and the wind is still strong, but it no longer seems like an apocalyptic (hah!) gale that will never, ever stop. As if to make up for that, it starts to snow again, and by the time they finally find shelter in the reception area of a high office building whose lower floors miraculously survived after the whole thing collapsed to the site, they are all frozen through and Sam is coughing blood again.
The idiot tries to hide it, thinking the darkness will protect him from his big brother’s notice, but the snow reflects enough light for Dean to make out how Sam wipes his hand on the inside of his cape after a coughing fit and how Cas gravitates towards him in concern. They settle on an old plastic couch which they cover with all the blankets and furs they don’t need to wrap up in and Dean pulls Sam against him with an arm around his neck and mutters, “Don’t try to keep shit from me, Sammy.” Sam sighs warily and rests his head against Dean’s shoulder.
Dean feels no safer in this place than he did in the one they spent the last night in, but his exhaustion leaves him no choice but to sleep while Castiel keeps watch. Michael shows up around dawn, when Dean opens his eyes and sees the leader of Heaven sitting on the other side of Sam, watching him contemplatively. The sight makes Dean jerk in shock and snap, “Don’t touch him!” when Michael reaches out to stroke Sam’s cheek with his knuckles, and Sam doesn’t stir because of course this isn’t real and Michael isn’t really touching him.
Doesn’t mean Dean wants him to keep doing it.
“Would you believe it?” Michael looks up to meet Dean’s glare with his cool, almost amused gaze. “I have absolutely no interest in your brother. But he is such a convenient means to an end.”
“For the end of the world?”
“Naturally. But right now to get your attention.”
Dean reaches out to slap the bastard’s hand away from his little brother’s face, dream or no dream, causing Michael to let out a long suffering sigh.
“Do not worry about him. I have come for you, Dean. I am, perhaps, the only being in all of creation who cares for you more than for your brother.” He meets Dean’s stare with a smile that is at the same time patronizing and sad. “Castiel would abandon you in a heartbeat if it came to choosing between you and Samuel. All the demons are after him, as is most of Heaven. You barely register on the radar anymore – if you ever did. Even your own father preferred Sam over you, and your mother chose to die for him, in vain, leaving you behind without a second thought. You know it, Dean. Sam has always been in the centre of everything. For everyone else, you were the means to the end of getting Sam back to life, of manipulating him, of making him do as he was supposed to do. Even my brother” – Dean notices the disdainful twitch of the angel’s lips – “is sadly obsessed with him.”
“Is this going somewhere? Because if you’re trying to get in my good graces, you’ve chosen a weird angle for it.”
“You matter to me, Dean. I don’t want you to suffer needlessly. And I don’t want you to have to live in your brother’s shadow. You’re worth more than that. You tried to save the world, and you do not deserve the way they look at you for it.”
“If you were actually here, I would punch you,” Dean growls. “And no, I am not going to tell you where we are so you can come for a visit. I don’t even know so stop trying and get out of my dreams.”
Michael sighs. He never seems to grow tired of that act. “There are demons after you, Dean.”
“Tell me something new.”
“I don’t know where you are, but they seem to have a good idea. They will find you, soon. And then we will find you, eventually, but there is no telling what they will be able to do to you before I arrive.”
“Why do I get the distinct feeling that you’re trying to imply something with this?” Dean lifts his hands before Michael can answer. “Let me guess: You’re going to find us anyway, so I should just tell you where we are and spare us unnecessary trouble with demons. Am I right?”
“It would be the sensible thing to do.”
“Well, I proved that I’m not great at doing sensible things when I let you in, didn’t I?”
Michael seems indignant. “I disagree.”
“Shocking.” Dean hopes his sarcasm won’t let the archangel sense the icy nervousness that comes over him whenever the guy shows up. Somehow, he doubts it.
“Think about it, Dean,” Michael asks him. “Who is going to suffer most when they find you? You are not doing your brother any favors.”
“Funny, a minute ago you were all about how this was, for once, not about Sam.”
“Will Sam being tortured before your eyes make you happy?” Michael asks bluntly. “You care about him. You seek to do what’s best for him, do you not?”
“So I’m to assume that you will stroke his hair and sing him a lullaby?” Dean spits. “Why would I care if it’s a demon who tortures him to death or a self-righteous angel? All you’re doing is just giving me arguments to run faster.”
“You will not be able to run forever. Someone will catch up with you and then Sam will be hurt. I’m afraid that cannot be avoided, much as I regret it. And in the end, Sam will give in. And it will be better that way. It will be the right thing to do, Dean, you know this.”
“Sammy seems to think otherwise.”
“I know. Your brother is remarkably stubborn. It is obvious that he has been created to be my brother’s vessel.”
If he’s trying to not piss Dean off, he’s doing a very shitty job. “My brother isn’t just someone’s prom dress.”
“That is not my point.”
“No?”
“My point is that Samuel is lost, and only you can save him from a fate much worse than death.” Once again, Michael reaches out to stroke Sam’s cheek, and somehow that’s so much worse than any violence he could display. “You need to talk to him, Dean. You are the only one he will listen to.”
“Which is why I will support him, as I should have done all along, instead of working against him.”
“You are not working against him. This is for him more than anything else. The world as it is will fall, and be reborn as paradise as it should be. That is inevitable. We are patient and have all the time there is. It makes no difference whether this takes another day or another year, but for Sam that will mean another year of suffering. And his body is failing. Would you rather Lucifer gets a chance to torture him into saying yes than have him say yes on his own accord and be rewarded with eternal peace?”
“On the price of everyone else on the planet?”
“Open your eyes, Dean! This planet is lost. Who hasn’t starved or died of illness yet is going to freeze soon. There are forces perfectly willing to kill everyone if it meant taking away your reason to fight us. I still wish to preserve part of humanity to honor my father’s wishes. But for that to happen, for some to have a chance, you both need to give in and let us end this. Give yourself over to me after you made Samuel say yes, so I will have the power to defeat Lucifer, and I will make sure the two of you will be together forever in Paradise.”
Dean opens his mouth to say something or maybe just to bite the damn hand that won’t fucking stop touching Sam. But Michael lifts his hand on his own, in warning. “Think about it, Dean. There may have been a point to your struggle once, but now it’s just childish stubbornness. Do not let others suffer for your pride.”
Then he’s gone and Dean comes awake with a start. Beside him, Sam wakes as well, sitting up with a gasp, blinking, disoriented and only half awake. “Shh,” Dean makes and pulls him back against his shoulder. Sam melts into him, his breath evening out within seconds, while Dean sits tense and wide awake and not interested at all in going back to sleep.
“Cas,” he whispers.
“What is it?” It’s dark but he can tell from the sound of his voice that Cas turned to them, probably the moment they woke up. Dean remembers that it’s probably bright enough for the angel to see them.
“Go to sleep.” He keeps his voice low so Sam can sleep on. “I’m awake now.”
“Did something happen?”
“Kind of.” No point in lying; Cas wouldn’t ask is something happened to Dean while he was sleeping beside him if he didn’t have a really good idea what it was. “But it doesn’t seem urgent. Just the usual blah blah. Get some sleep. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
After a second he kind of vaguely senses Cas nodding and hears him settle into a more comfortable position. His breathing evens out quickly, almost too quickly to be natural. In all the time they traveled together, Cas never seemed to have a problem falling asleep if he really wanted to.
Dean is left behind in the world of the waking, not at all wanting to get more rest even though he is still tired and doesn’t think Michael will be back anytime soon.
He sits and thinks, and feels. Feels mostly dread, anger at the repeated violation of his dreams and that they are trying to use him against his brother again. Anger at himself for letting himself be used before. And doubt. Doubt that comes with looking at the world and knowing there’s little left to be fighting for. Michael being a jackass doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a point. They don’t stand a chance and Sam will be the one to suffer most. Dean is the only one who can spare him.
He concentrates on the anger because it pushes away these thoughts and feels Sam’s warm breath against the side of his neck.
-
The next day, the wind has all but died. The city is covered in snow and looks almost beautiful, in the same way there was a strange beauty to the pictures of the overgrown landscape of Chernobyl Dean once saw, taken years after the reactor went up.
There is no sound but the crunching of the snow under their boots as they walk on. They are moving towards the center of the city, hoping to find a supermarket, a clothing store, a gun maker, anything that might come in handy. Dean tells the others about Michael’s nightly visit, his voice sounding quiet but strong in the clear morning air. He doesn’t leave anything out.
Sam is silent throughout. He’s silent a lot nowadays, but right now it’s the kind of silence that is accompanied by a hanging head and staring at the snow in front of him, lost in thought. Maybe he’s thinking the same thoughts Dean was.
Cas snorts, full of contempt. “Michael will do anything to get you back on his side. He’s using your love for Sam for it, as if he knew anything about it.”
“He’s wrong, then?” Dean asks. “We have a chance? We’re not doing this to the world and ourselves – to Sam – only to lose in the end?”
“As long as we keep fighting, we haven’t lost.”
“Now you’re just sounding desperate.”
“I heard that from you.”
“Was I drunk?”
“Is that a hospital?” Sam suddenly asks. Dean looks up, irritated at the interruption that seems a little too pointed not to be intentional, but Sam’s looking straight ahead to a half-collapsed, half intact longish building behind a few ruins that have barely enough height left to block the view.
“Guess it might be,” Dean admits. They make their way over there and find the glass doors of the entrance broken, which doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone. It’s dark inside, but there are enough windows to allow them to see where they are going, at least near the entrance.
The deeper into the building the get, the more useless Dean becomes. As it happens, most storage rooms don’t have windows. He finds his fun place in a room on the fecund floor, where bandages upon bandages are waiting in a cabinet for him to pack as many as he can. Meanwhile, Sam and Cas are taking needles, compresses, clamps, and other useful stuff from the darker places.
This hospital was never raided. Dean wonders what happened here that killed everyone at once and kept anyone else from coming.
They saw the remains of no more than two people since leaving the building that sheltered them for a few days. There are barely any car wrecks on the streets. All the beds in the hospital are empty.
“Maybe they just left,” Sam says and makes Dean jump and turn to find his brother in the doorway. Either he can read thoughts now or he happened to be thinking exactly the same.
“Just like that? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. The virus, maybe. Perhaps they were all turned before the city was destroyed.”
“The virus?” Dean needs a moment to think before he remembers the illusion of a future Zachariah once send him to. “Croatoan?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t seen a single infected person since I came back.”
“We’ve hardly seen anyone since I came back,” Sam points out. “I don’t know if the virus still exists or if it died out. I asked Cas, but he doesn’t know either.”
“Hm.” Dean thinks about it. They met so many people on their journey, before they got Sam back, and any one of them could have been a Croat. Fantastic.
Especially since unlike Sam, he’s not actually immune to the virus for all he knows.
“Do you think that’s what happened?” Dean wonders. “That the virus took them all and left the place deserted?”
“I don’t know,” Sam admits. “Probably not.”
Looking out of the window, Dean sighs. Like so many other places, this city is keeping its secrets.
“I understand, you know,” Sam suddenly says. “Why you gave in to Michael.”
“Sam.” The word is half plea, half warning. But Sam shakes his head, comes into the room to sit on the edge of a cabinet with painfully stiff movements.
“No, I mean… it makes sense, doesn’t it? Especially seeing how this turned out. If Michael and Lucifer had had their battle in the beginning, half of mankind would have been killed off, but half would have survived and seen the paradise Michael intended. The way things turned out… much more than half died, Dean.”
“Sam, don’t do that.” Dean walks over to him and sits beside his brother. “Nothing of this is your fault.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. And it’s bullshit. It would never have come this far if I hadn’t given in first. And we don’t know if Michael would have won. Might have been Lucifer, and then everyone would have died.”
“And what difference would that have made?”
“There are people alive still.”
“Yes, but what kind of life is that? Lucifer would have killed everyone, but then they would have gone to Heaven. Which exists. Which we know. He doesn’t want them in Hell, you know?”
“Yeah, I know, actually. But they aren’t going to Hell now, either.”
“How do you know? As long as they are alive, they can fuck it up. People damn themselves all the time. They kill each other for food or make deals with demons. All those people… did I damn them out of pride, Dean? Because I wanted to have the last word?”
“No, Sammy!” Dean wants to take him in his arms and smother him in his shirt so he can’t say anything else. “Don’t start thinking like that. This is exactly what Michael wants.” It doesn’t matter that Dean thought the same not five hours ago, because right now Dean realizes that he made his choice, and his choice is to support what his brother fought for.
“It’s not like this is a new thought,” Sam whispers. Dean still doesn’t touch him, just leans forward with his elbows resting on his own knees while his heart quietly breaks.
“Why did you keep fighting all these years?” he asks. “Just to give me the finger? I mean, not that I didn’t deserve it, but I surely didn’t deserve you suffering that much to prove me wrong.”
“No, because… because at first I really thought we had a chance. That we could somehow get Michael out of you and defeat Lucifer and everything would go back to normal. But year after year passed and more and more people died and… at some point I realized that the point had passed where my decision would still have had the better outcome. By that time, the only thing I could do was hold off for anyone who was still fighting. And…”
“And what?” Dean asks softly when Sam’s voice trailed off.
“And I had to keep going because not doing it would render the suffering of everyone already lost pointless. It has to have been for something, Dean.” And then he looks at Dean like a lost little boy desperate for confirmation, or maybe absolution, as something only his big brother can give.
This moment, right here, for the first time in ages, Dean feels like a big brother again. He reaches out after all, ready to pull Sammy’s head against his chest and kiss his hair like he would when they were kids, when a thundering sound from the outside makes them jump.
-
The sound swells up like an incoming wave about to crash, rapidly becoming louder until it drowns any other sound. Dean and Sam are already running; the sound comes from the distance, far away and yet all consuming, and they need to see what it is even though it probably means danger.
They meet Cas as they are running outside. Together, they emerge from the building just when the noise dies. But there is a giant cloud of dust rising in the west, right where the two buildings leaning against each other used to stand. Now there is only one building, and as they watch, it leans over more and more, starting to fall in slow motion, its support already gone. The thunder is back, echoing through the city as another giant dies.
They watch in silence as the cloud of dust and dirt spreads over the ruins around, too far away for them to be affected. Eventually, they agree without words that they got all the supplies they can get from this place and walk on, looking for another building that might serve them.
The cloud lingers for a long time. It makes Dean worry about the one other tall building they pass, but the mall they finally find is mostly buried in the ground, and while it still can fall on and crush them, at least it won’t crush them with quite as much vengeance.
Inside, it’s dark again, but several holes where the buried ceiling has broken through allow for enough light for even Dean to get around. Most shops inside the mall have collapsed, but they find a clothes store with all kinds of shit from bathing suits to prom dresses. It’s really pretty dark in there, though, so Dean is mostly useless, sitting around near the entrance between clothes that have fallen apart on their racks, eaten by mold and time, and other clothes that are dirty and dusty but otherwise intact. Ah, the wonders of synthetic materials.
So some of the companies weren’t actually kidding when they claimed their products would get their owners to the end of the world.
Cas and Sam come out with some stuff eventually, including the proper coats they were all sourly lacking until now. Sam’s brought a knee long coat of probably fake leather, with soft lining, that he tosses at Dean with a grin, and Dean grins right back at him because the thing looks cool and awesome. It’s pretty heavy, and together with the blanket-cape will keep Dean warm, hopefully. At least down here he feels much better for wearing the thing.
Cas got himself a sort but thick jacket with a hood lined with fake fur, and Sam’s wearing something made of black cloth under his blankets that goes all the way down to his ankles. He rolls his eyes and groans when Dean checks the material for its keep-Sammy-warm potential, but it’s lined and pretty heavy as well. Acceptable. Sam’s also wearing a pair of fingerless gloves and all he needs now is a proper hat and he’d look like a gunslinger from a western.
So Dean happens to have a thing for westerns. He’s perfectly okay with that as long as he doesn’t think about how he’s never going to see another one again, in his life. Eventually, the face of Clint Eastwood might fade from his memory as well.
He kind of killed Clint Eastwood. Probably. The man was badass, but he was also old when the apocalypse started, and Dean’s pretty sure that Hollywood and its stars were the first things Michael smashed to pieces.
So that’s something for Dean’s resume: broke the first seal, let down his brother, killed Dirty Harry.
He’s really, really not thinking about it.
It’s easier not to think of anything when Sam and Cas come back again and Cas is wearing this utterly ridiculous blue hat. Dean and Sam will stick with their equally stupid but lovingly self-made ear-hats, thank you very much.
There might be more useful stuff in there, but none of it better than what they already have, and their storage space is limited. So they move on.
Unfortunately, the entire northern part of the mall is crushed, denying them access. They take a break in what might have been a pet store once, feeling safe enough in here. Sam gets a little blood, Dean and Cas eat half of what’s left of their supplies. They need to find food, soon, or Sam’s not going to be the only one at a risk of starving.
Dean would also appreciate restocking on bullets and maybe getting a gun for Sam. They climb up through one of the holes in the ceiling after they are done eating and wander down a street that looks like it once contained a lot of stores lined side by side.
They do find a supermarket in the end, but the roof has been blown away, the shelves are fallen over and everything on them is buried or crushed, so far as it hasn’t rotten away to nothing centuries ago. There’s a pile of paper-mash half-buried by snow that might once have been a couple of magazines. Luck is not with them.
Until they discover that while the shop is gone, the storage in the back has survived mostly intact. Cas goes in there alone while Sam and Dean sit down on a dry spot underneath the remains of the roof so Sam can rest his aching legs. He leans back with a sigh and closes his eyes, and Dean notices the bright spots of fever on his pale cheeks. The weather is good but Sam is still sick. They’d do better not to forget that.
Cas is gone for a while which either means that there’s a lot of food to choose from or that there’s nothing at all and he won’t give up looking before he’s gone through every last corner. Dean would put his money on the second option. His stomach growls in protest to his thoughts.
“If we don’t find anything here, we’ll go hunting,” Sam suddenly says. “So far, we always found something to eat.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Dean tells him. He’s not, not really. Now the wind has died and the snow lies undisturbed, they’ve seen the tracks of rabbits every now and then. At some point a small group of birds flew over their heads. Those are things they can shoot and eat. It’s just that eating something from a can would be much easier. And canned food they can take with them for a long time without it going bad.
“I wish…”
Dean doesn’t find out what his brother wishes for because Sam stops himself, frowns, and suddenly sits upright, looking around in confusion.
“What is it?” Dean asks, alarmed. He’s taking out his gun, ready to aim, when Sam’s shoulders slump again.
“Nothing. I thought…” He trails off, shudders, still looking nervous. How’s that supposed to calm Dean down?
“If you thought you heard something, you’d better tell me,” Dean growls. “Even if it was just your imagination. Better overcautious than walking into a trap.”
Sam opens his mouth, and closes it again, looking alert. This time, Dean can hear it, too: footsteps crunching on the snow, coming closer. He brings up his gun and finds himself aiming at Cas, who just then emerges from behind the shelf Sam is leaning against.
“What is wrong?” he asks, equally alarmed, when he notices how nervous they are. Sam shakes his head.
“I… nothing. I thought there was something, but there isn’t.”
Cas frowns, but doesn’t look overly worried. When he notices Dean’s own frown, he explains, “Sam’s senses play tricks on him sometimes. It’s a side effect of his soul being…damaged.”
A nice way of saying ‘decades of torture broke your brother’s head’. And not helpful. “How do we know it’s really just a trick of his mind?”
“We don’t. But if he says there’s nothing now, there probably isn’t. Here.” Cas hands Dean a small, heavy bag that’s filled with a few cans of conserved food.
“That’s all?” Dean wants to know, fighting disappointment. He should be glad there was anything at all with the place looking the way it does
“There are some more I already packed. This will get us through some days.”
“We should leave here,” Sam suddenly says. He has his arms wrapped around his own shoulders and keeps shivering, but that might be just because it’s cold and he’s sick.
“Do you sense something again?” Dean enquires. Sam shakes his head.
“It just makes me nervous that I did. As you said, we can’t tell when I’m mistaken. I don’t like it.”
“We’ve been here long enough anyway,” Cas agrees. “It’s getting cold. We shouldn’t sit still for too long.”
The light is already getting dimmer. They move on, maybe a little faster than before, and Sam stays as nervous as he was, though he frequently tells the others that there’s nothing there. Dean wonders if it’s a sign of withdrawal, but Sam refuses the blood that’s offered to him.
Though it’s hard to orient himself in the unfamiliar ruins, Dean gets the impression that they are moving away from the center and towards the outskirts of the city. His thoughts drift to Jena, wondering what she’s doing and how she can even hope to find them if even her most powerful big brothers can’t.
Altogether, it takes them two more days to leave the city. Fortunately, the wind remains barely notable, which not only makes their journey less unpleasant, it also makes their nights a little less unbearable, since the ruins they hole up in are severely lacking in comfort and intact doors. Somewhere, the cold always gets in.
There’s more food now, but little sleep for any of them. Sam’s wheezing keeps them all awake: Sam because he can’t breathe right and whenever he starts to drift off, a new coughing fit pulls him back to wakefulness. Dean because Sam’s noises and his worry for him keep him awake, and Cas because someone has to keep watch. If his senses work on the same level as Dean’s, he has a hard time hearing anything over the sound of Sam’s tortured breathing.
The second night is even worse than the first because they are all tired, cold and miserable. Dean insists on Cas trying to get some sleep while he takes over first watch, but he doesn’t think his friend is any more successful than he was the night before, even though exhaustion forces Sam’s body to fall asleep every now and then, despite the cough. It’s never long before his lungs or his nightmares make him jerk awake again and bring everyone else with him.
There are few moments when Dean really misses Jena, but at least she could take over all the watches since she doesn’t have to sleep.
The next day, Sam stumbles a lot. They take more breaks than usual, and Dean feels worse during them than he normally does, more exposed, because they are almost out of the city and the destruction is actually worse here, as if the time is eating the city from the edges inward. There are hardly enough places they can even crouch behind. Eventually, they kind of force Sam to drink a healthy dose of demon blood, much more than he usually takes. He is a little better afterwards, but he’s also an emotional mess.
It’s frustrating for Dean to watch because he couldn’t ever understand what his brother is going through.
Again, Dean would have felt better with Jena around. Her powers offer a sense of security Dean never even noticed while she was still with them. Now he feels even more vulnerable than usual, especially with the cover getting less and less.
There is the outline of a smaller town just visible on the horizon. Dean guesses that own will be their next stop, if only because if offers a point of orientation.
Without Jena, they don’t even have a plan anymore – unless Cas has an idea and never bothered to tell Dean.
At least Sam’s nervousness lessened during the day he spent almost delirious. Now that he’s better the nervousness is back, and it’s catching. Dean keeps looking over his shoulder, but they are walking over a wide stretch of hard snow and there’s nothing in any direction but the ruins they left behind.
That is, at least, until midday, when Sam has one second to panic before they are no longer alone.
They all see them at the same time, because Sam turns around so quickly that they have no choice but to look as well, just in case there actually is something to be seen for once. And there is: far away, visible just as tiny figures against the backdrop of the ruined city, are a number of figures, walking in their direction.
They don’t seem to be in a hurry, but there is no doubt that they are coming after them. The fact that the strangers don’t bother to run in their pursuit only indicates that the ones they are pursuing have no hope of getting away.
“Demons?” Dean asks, and Sam nods wordlessly. “Shit.”
There are four of them, and while they don’t move any faster than Dean and the others, they will have caught up with them in less than a day because Dean and the others need to rest every now and then and the demons do not. And when they got them…
Between them, they have one demon killing sword and one demon killing Sam. Dean doesn’t know what the others have, but they seem damn smug just walking after them. He is acutely aware that they are being toyed with.
So everything inside him resists the urge to run, just in order to not do the demons that favor. But that’s just stubbornness and pride, and maybe some fatalism since he’s pretty sure that running won’t make any difference. His instincts insist on running, though, and his mind is already busy trying to come up with a plan for when they are caught.
What they do, in the end, is some kind of compromise: they don’t run from the demons but walk from them. The snow doesn’t leave them much other choice, since even though it’s rather hard they aren’t as fast as they would be walking on earth. On top of that, Sam wouldn’t be able to keep up in a run, and keeping him away from the enemy is their top priority still.
And one would think that keeping away from Sam would be any demon’s top priority as well. That fact that these are not offers a couple of possible explanations: They could be idiots, for example, thinking that four of them would be enough to overpower one Sam and one angel sword. (Unlikely, but Dean likes the idea. Enemies that overestimate themselves are a blessing.) They could not know who they are pursuing. (Even more unlikely. As if any demon on this planet didn’t fucking know that.) Or they could be herding them towards another group of demons, this one really large enough to overpower them.
Or Lucifer is with them, sitting somewhere nearby and snickering into his fist. Also unlikely, since Sam would sense him (wouldn’t he?), but there has to be something they don’t know.
Dean’s gaze keeps seeking the town they are aiming for – still far away, but if they make it, they might be able to hide and create a trap of their own. Alternatively, that might be where the demons’ trap snaps closed.
“Think they belong to Lucifer?” he asks, keeping his vice low even though the four figures are too far away to hear anything they say.
Sam shakes his head.
“So, Crowley’s, then?”
“Must be. Or they don’t belong to anyone. But they… if they support Lucifer, they are not among those he favors. He wouldn’t have let them come after us.”
“So if they are his, they will be in trouble if they actually get us. Lucifer doesn’t take well to his underlings touching his vessel without permission,” Cas adds. Well, that’s something that will certainly be comforting to know to know while the demons are torturing them to death…
“How can you be so sure they aren’t on Satan’s buddy list?” Dean wants to know, then almost regrets it when Sam just throws him a short glance and then looks away. It makes Dean’s stomach turn before he even starts thinking about what that might mean.
Being who he is, he can’t just let that go. Castiel spares him the decision whether or not to actually ask. “Lucifer rewards those who serve him well,” is all he says.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Sam can tell demons apart through whatever way he senses them. So Lucifer rewards those that please him. So Sam knows the ones that please Lucifer well enough to recognize them even after a long time.
Yeah, that doesn’t take a genius to figure out either.
In the end, it’s Sam who unexpectedly puts an end to the chase. He just stops running at some point. They are much closer to the next town, maybe thirty minutes from it at the pace they are walking, and Dean is sure they can make it, but Sam doesn’t seem inclined to try. Perhaps he knows something Dean doesn’t. Perhaps he’s just fed up with this bullshit. Fed up with being chased and toyed with and turned into a victim.
So he turns on his heels and starts walking towards the demons instead. Dean and Cas are taken by surprise but follow him. Whatever Sam’s planning, they are with him. Dean is quite tired of this game as well.
The demons for sure seem startled. They are still a good bit away, but Dean can see them falter in their steps and come to a halt to look at each other. Sam actually picks up speed as if he couldn’t wait for the confrontation. He has to be absolutely beat after the long trek over the half-frozen snow. He’s sweating despite the cold. Dean realizes that he’s running on last reserves.
Hopefully, the demons don’t realize it as well.
They’ve come to a decision, it seems, because the resume their march towards them. Dean has half-hoped Sam unexpectedly taking the initiative would scare them away, but no such luck. Instead, three of them suddenly disappear only to materialize out of thin air right in front of them.
“Well, well,” one of them says in greeting. “You think you’re so strong now, right? I could smell your weakness all the way back there. Followed your scent. You smell like approaching death and now you think you can scare us? You’re so cute, Sammy!” The demon has wrapped its host’s face in a scarf and only through the voice can Dean tell that the body it’s wearing is female. She comes walking over to them, reaching out her hand in Sam’s direction and Sam straightens, getting ready. Before he can do anything to defend himself, the weak light reflects off something flying through the air and then Castiel’s sword is embedded in her chest and the demon inside flickers out with a final, aborted scream.
The next second, Cas is flying backwards, landing hard on the snow, and one of the other demons, steps over to him, a knife in his hand. He’s not going to tease and play this time, Dean can tell. They want to take Cas out of the picture.
Fortunately, his sword isn’t the only weapon they have that’s effective against demons. Before the guy can take more than two steps, he stops as if he ran against an invisible barrier, suddenly unable to move.
The last demon is in a similar situation. Sam’s hand is lifted, his face screwed up in a grimace of pain and effort that Dean has seen so often before, but he’s got a handle on this. For the moment.
Looking back, Dean sees the final demon, the only one the others left behind when jumping places, still walking towards them. He’s just a few minutes away, and while he can’t be all that powerful if he can’t even teleport, Dean isn’t sure Sam can handle three of the guys at once.
He doesn’t have to. Cas uses the momentary immobilization of their enemies to retrieve his sword and kill the one who threw him. Only one remaining, and this one is putting up a fight, struggling with all he has against Sam’s hold. Knowing it’ll be lost if it doesn’t win this, and look at that, a demon with self-preservation instincts. What a novelty.
Apparently, the adrenalin surge that comes with impending death has the same effect on demons as it has on humans: it powers them up. Sam is swaying, visibly struggling to remain in control despite having only one demon to deal with now. And yet, Cas hesitates to kill this one.
Because if it’s dead, they can’t ask questions. The demon still free could easily get away before Sam gets a hold on it – in fact, Dean is surprised it hasn’t yet. And yet, they need to do something, soon, before Sam loses that battle.
So Dean draws his own knife from its holster and crouches behind the demon, quickly scratching a devil’s trap into the hard, icy snow. Then he grabs hold of the demon and pulls him backwards until he’s standing on the seal, unable to run, smoke out or attack them. Sam visibly relaxes the moment the demon is otherwise contained. He throws his brother a grateful smile while Cas positions himself right beside the demon, ready to strike at any moment.
“I’m not gonna tell you anything,” the demon says before they can even ask. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“Actually, no,” Sam tells him. “We keep to our deals – that’s how they work. Cooperate and we wouldn’t gain anything from killing you but others hearing about it and being stubborn when their time comes. You answer our questions and we’ll only send you back to Hell.”
“You probably won’t be flattered if I tell you that my boss likes the way you think. Breaking deals is bad for business.”
“So you’re one of Crowley’s,” Cas muses. “You have been following us for weeks.”
The demon screws up his face, like he revealed something he didn’t mean to reveal. He doesn’t seem to be one of the brighter ones. “How do you know that?”
“Your bloodhound gave you away,” Dean lets him know, remembering the feel of fingers closing around his throat in the dark. “Right before Sam killed her.”
Sam just throws the demon a brief grin. The demon looks uncertain, but then he’s grinning himself, and when Dean follows his gaze he sees the last remaining demon come up behind Sam, just a dozen yards away. He gives Sam a warning and Sam turns, Cas gets ready to throw his sword – but before either of them can do anything, the guy throws back his head and the demon inside escapes to the stratosphere.
It happens so sudden that Dean can only stare. Until this moment, the demon never showed any sign of slowing down and now this. Perhaps it was particularly weak and stupid and didn’t get the danger until it was nearly too late, but all of Dean’s instincts instantly scream for caution. The cloud of smoke doesn’t return, though, doesn’t try to possess any of them, so Dean looks around for Jena, to see if she found them and was somehow responsible for this weird stunt.
The demon’s host stumbles and falls to his knees, catching the fall with his hands. Still alive, then. The man goes down for barely a second before he looks up, his gaze going straight to Sam. Not even acknowledging Dean’s and Cas’ presence, and there’s no confusion and panic in his eyes.
Dean’s warning comes too late because the guy is inhumanly strong. A monster possessed by a demon and this was all a trap and Dean is ready to attack but he’s too slow and he doesn’t even know what he’s dealing with. A hand to his chest shoves him backwards, makes him fly and knocks the air out of his lungs even before hitting the ground. There’s a vague impression of Cas faring no better. He never got another chance to put his sword to use.
Sam takes a step back, his hand raised in defiance. He’s using his powers – snow flies up around him and Dean can feel the power being called by his brother’s mind – but his aim is off, he’s out of practice and unprepared and taken by surprise, and whatever he’s facing is too powerful for his weak attempt to fight it. The monster is upon him in a matter of seconds and Dean lifts his head just in time to see the guy grab Sammy’s hair, pull back his head and sink long, sharp teeth into his skin of his neck.
A fucking vampire. They are being ambushed by a vampire possessed by a demon. For all this fucking time they never met any supernatural being except the ghosts they created, and now one of them has his fangs in Sammy’s neck and is drinking his blood. Dean tries to get up but his legs are failing. He fumbles for his gun, manages to get it out and aim. He hits the vampire in the side, just above the hip. It doesn’t harm him like a machete to the neck would have, but it’s enough to get his attention. With a grunt, he lets go of Sam, who falls to the ground and lies still as the vampire turns to Dean, and to Cas who must have lost consciousness and is just beginning to move again.
Instead of stomping them into the ground as he easily could have done, the vampire moves the edge of his shoe across the devil’s trap the last demon is trapped in before turning back to Sam and ignoring the others entirely. Dean fires another shot at him, then at the demon, but neither is particularly impressed by his firepower. The demon is holding the angel sword in his hand. Dean expects him to kill Cas with it, but the hell-spawn just kicks the angel, then spits in Dean’s general direction, and throws a dark look towards the vampire.
“Be careful with that,” he orders. “If you kill him, all deals are off.”
Snorting, the vampire hauls Sam upright and into his arms. He doesn’t bite again, but licks off the blood that’s still running from the ugly wound in Sam’s neck. On some level, Dean actually does register that he should be worried about the demon who has him at his mercy, but all that threat means to him is that he’s held down by an invisible power and can’t get up to save his brother.
Sam is moving weakly, trying to push his attacker away with uncoordinated movements. “You’re delicious,” the vampire says gently. “All that power in your veins. Demons are disgusting, humans are boring. But you, child…” He runs his knuckles down Sam’s cheek, his neck, lets it disappear beneath the rim of Sam’s coat. “You’re the perfect mix. Stinking demon-crap distilled into something beautiful.”
“Why don’t you…” Sam gasps for air, a note of pain in his voice. “…write a fucking poem about it?”
“I might. Gonna write it in the blood of your brother, on the corpse of your friend. Although, food is hard to come by these days. I might keep him and the angel for hard times. Never tasted an angel before. Think he might taste better than you?” The vampire runs the tips of his fingers over Sam’s face, leaving traces of his own blood. He grins and then he leans in and presses his lips to Sam’s in a brutal kiss.
Dean can’t move. He can’t move, can’t fucking move!
Sam struggles, but it’s not doing much. The demon cackles, finding it all incredibly funny. “Leave a piece for me,” he calls over to his unlikely ally. “If I’m getting my ass kicked for this, should at least be worth it.”
Much to Dean’s relief, the vampire stops what he’s doing and lets Sam drop to the ground again as he gets back to his feet. He kicks him in the chest when Sam’s making a move to push himself up and he’s left lying there gasping for air and Dean doesn’t like that at all, but it’s better than the kiss and it’s a thousand times better than the vampire’s hand under his clothes. Dean is going to tear off his head with his bare hands if he has to. Sammy killing Gordon Walker with barbed wire will have nothing on him.
So the vampire comes over and the demon disappears. With the demon, the demon’s power also leaves, but the vampire has both Dean and Cas by the throat and presses them down, not giving them any chance to put up a fight. It is a little surprising, actually, that they aren’t outright killed, so their attackers must need them for something. Dean can’t think about that. He can’t breathe.
Sam is coughing painfully somewhere out of sight.
The demon comes back after a maybe a minute, if that. He comes carrying, with strength no human possesses, a heavy metal frame he unceremoniously drops to the ground. It has to be taken from some building, probably part of the supporting structure, and Dean wouldn’t have a chance to move it an inch, let alone lift it.
Again, he’s surprised when it isn’t used to crush them. Instead, the demon manhandles him to lean against one of the beams of the structure and ties him to it, using the rope from their own damn backpacks. Cas is suffering a similar fate, just with the vampire doing it, and when he’s done, the vampire leans in and bites Cas’s neck. Cas jerks, lets out a pained sound, and the vampire jumps back as if somebody had punched him in this face, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
“Disgusting,” he judges. “The filth of this world seems to have thoroughly corrupted your body. I should wait for a real angel to come along.”
Cas doesn’t react to that with anything other than a glare, and Dean just knows that if Cas were still a real angel, the damn vampire would have died the moment he tasted the first drop of blood.
Unfortunately, the vampire seems eager to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. “If you drink any more, he’s probably gonna die,” the demon, who seems much more relaxed now he doesn’t need to restrain the captives with his powers anymore, cautions when his comrade pushes Sam’s hair out of the way once again. “And then I’ll have the boss know it was all your fault and I’ll watch with glee as he tears you apart.”
“He’s right,” Dean hears himself call out. “Don’t touch him. You want him alive, right? Take me instead, I may not taste exotic, but I’m fit and full of blood and entirely expendable.”
The vampire eyes him contemplatively for about a second before he takes him up on his offer.
NEXT