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Rating: T
Genre: Angst, family, h/c
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3.16. AU after that.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: This is the sequel to "One Hundred Nine Hours and Thirteen Minutes." I'd recommend reading that first if you haven't. Also, this was written in the summer and was completed before Season 4 ever aired. (Also written without ever looking at any spoilers for Season 4.) Partly journal, partly third person POV.
Summary: The path to recovery is more like a winding mountain road. Post 3.16, AU Season 4.
( Day 1 ) | ( Day 6 ) | ( Day 15 ) | ( Day 19 ) | ( Day 26 ) | ( Day 39 )
Day 51
I am such a screw-up.
I really should’ve seen this coming. How could I not see this wasn’t a spirit?
We shouldn’t have pushed it. But we were both feeling pretty good after the Arizona trip. We even drove down to see the Grand Canyon – which was spectacular. We tracked down a Wendigo nearby and took care of it without a problem, so we never thought about turning Bobby down when he called with another job. It was supposed to be a simple haunting – supposedly the spirit of Eliza Dowry was possessing people when they entered her old house. Both Dean and I (and Bobby) figured it would be another simple salt and burn.
Only problem is that there is no such thing as a simple salt and burn. Especially on cases like this, where it’s not a spirit.
It was a demon.
A minor demon, minor enough to register as a spirit on Bobby’s radar, but still… a demon. I guess the Winchester luck is running true to form once again.
Needless to say, Dean isn’t handling it very well. And it doesn’t help that the exorcism did something to him, too – not just the demon.
It’s like we’ve taken eighty steps back for our two steps forward. Dean won’t even look at me. Not that I blame him. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to look at me, either. Not when I screwed this up so badly.
Damn it, I can even do an exorcism any more without hurting my brother!
I feel like I should call Bobby. I could really use his advice. But I know he’ll feel absolutely terrible about sending us on that hunt, even though what happened wasn’t his fault. He’s like five states over – there’s no way either Dean or I would blame him.
But I should’ve known better. I had a… not necessarily a vision. More of a premonition, I guess. A feeling. A sense that something wasn’t right about this case. But I ignored it because… quite frankly… I’m a little freaked. That wound on my back still hasn’t healed, and I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t really go to a doctor, and I can’t tell Dean or Bobby – Dean still doesn’t know – and I intend to keep it that way – and I think I’ve convinced Bobby that it’s pretty much all healed up by now. But it’s not. It always hurts, and now I’m starting to get premonitions again. Like before Jess died.
I don’t know exactly what the demon said to Dean, but I bet it had something to do with the fact that despite everything, I’m still headed down the path Yellow-Eyes carved for me. That Dean sold his soul for the Antichrist. She knew that I had had a bad feeling about this hunt, after all. She threw in references to my abilities every chance she could. And the way Dean looked at me when she whispered in his ear…
The last thing Dean needs to deal with is the possibility that the demon was right – that I wasn’t worth the deal.
Which, honestly, I agree. This incident shows just how much of a danger I am to Dean. I should’ve made him stay at the hotel, or drugged him, or left him in the Impala or something. I knew it wasn’t a normal gig, I knew something was off, and I still led Dean right into it.
If it weren’t for the fact that Dean needs me – or at least, needs someone around to help him through this – I would seriously consider leaving. All I’ve ever done is screw up. I couldn’t even save that girl tonight. Everywhere I go, people I know and care about get hurt or get killed. Mom, Jess, Dad, Madison – and Dean. Dean most of all. He never should have had to suffer what my existence has put him through. Without me, none of this would have happened.
What’s dead should stay dead. Dean never should have brought me back.
“Adios, Eliza,” Dean declared with a smirk as he tossed the lit matches into the grave. A familiar whump of fire consuming lighter fluid echoed through the small clearing as the brothers watched the skeleton disintegrate.
Finally Dean’s eyes shot up to meet Sam’s. “C’mon, we’d better go make sure that Amanda chick is alright.”
“Just as long as she doesn’t try groping me again,” Sam muttered, slinging the muddy shovel over one shoulder as he glanced back at the dark house. His eyes narrowed as a shiver raced up his spine, causing the ache in his lower back to flare up. He had pretty much resigned himself to the constant throb of the wound, as no amount of painkiller over the last few weeks had done anything to drive it away.
Dean merely laughed as they trudged back up towards the house. “I may not be psychic, but I definitely sensed that Eliza was into you,” he quipped.
Sam rolled his eyes and huffed. “How long are you going to be giving me crap about this?” he asked resignedly.
Dean smirked. “I’m thinking at least a good ten days.” He suddenly clasped his hands together, fluttered his eyelashes, and sent his voice two octaves higher. “‘I bet I could give those arms a good workout, darlin’.’”
“Shuddup,” Sam growled, punching his brother lightly on the shoulder.
Dean laughed again as he shoved the front door open and flicked on the dim light. “I’m tellin’ ya, Sammy, chicks-”
The shovel suddenly flew out of Sam’s grasp, and a moment later both Winchesters were pinned to the wall on either side of the door. “-the hell?” Dean gasped.
“Funny you should be the one to mention that, Dean-o,” a low voice called from the shadows. A moment later the woman they had thought was possessed by the spirit of Eliza Dowry stepped out, a smirk on her face as she stared up at the pinned pair.
“Oh, shit,” Sam hissed when he saw the inky-black film covering the girl’s eyes. On the other side of the doorway, he sensed rather than saw the blood drain from Dean’s face.
The girl – Amanda, Sam thought faintly – blinked, and her sea-green eyes reappeared as she stared at Sam. “Don’t sound so surprised, Sammy,” the demon declared, tilting her head and grinning as she strutted towards Sam. His skin prickled and the ache in his back flared up again as she ran a manicured nail across his chest, the fabric on his shirt plucking from the movement. She stood on her tiptoes, her hot breath flowing across the nape of his neck as she murmured, “You knew all along, didn’t you?”
“I don’t-”
“Save it for later,” the demon hissed, waving her hand sharply. Sam’s jaw shut with a painful snap, his teething colliding loudly. The demon chuckled as Sam grunted when she shoved her nails into his chest, gouging through the cloth of his shirt just above his heart.
“Leave him alone, bitch,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. Sam’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of his brother’s voice. To most people, there was no noticeable difference – Dean sounded just as defiant and cocky as ever. But Sam could hear the underlying fear adding a subtle tremor to Dean’s voice – and judging by how the smirk grew on the demon’s face as she turned to face the older Winchester, she had picked up on it, too.
“Now, Dean, that hurts – right here,” she cooed, laying her hand over her heart. Sam noticed with some surprise that there were specks of blood – his blood – coating the tips of the nails. “After all, we’re practically family.”
Sam grunted forcefully at that as the demon started running her fingers across Dean’s chest this time. “Hands off,” Dean grunted.
The demon clucked her tongue, her hands moving to roam under Dean’s jacket. “I can’t help that you Winchesters come in such yummy packaging,” she purred, licking her lips as she looked up at Dean. Dean’s face twisted in a grimace as Sam tried to curse at the woman through forcefully closed lips.
“Whaddya want?”
The demon tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Oh, I think you know of all people would know, Dean-o. Having been tainted and all.” Her eyes flicked to black as she lowered her lips to Dean’s neck. “I’m just here for a little fun.”
She jerked backwards as Dean managed to slam his chin into her temple. She growled, eyes flashing as she stared at the pair. “You know, we were all sorely disappointed when Sammy there pulled out the Azazel Gift card to get you out of the deal.” Sam and Dean shot glances at each other, neither coming up with a solution to get out of this mess.
The demon looked at Dean through hooded eyelids, coming back up to caress his stomach and chest. Sam noticed that she seemed to be tracing the Hellhound scars he knew were hidden underneath Dean’s tee. “We didn’t even get a chance to play with you, Dean. Lilith wouldn’t let you out of the Abyss because she wanted to finish little Sammy first before getting to the real fun.”
“W-what? What’re you talking about?” Dean’s voice was croaky, and his breaths were starting to become gasps.
She grinned, her eyes flashing black again. Sam swallowed when he saw Dean flinch slightly. “You didn’t even make it down to Hell, Dean-o. You were in the Abyss when the Boy King over there pulled you out – the Waiting Room, as it were. Lilith wanted to make sure the great Dean Winchester was broken and defeated before we even got a chance at you. Some of us weren’t too happy with that idea, but Lilith is… Lilith, so we didn’t have much of a choice.” Her grin widened as she breathed against his ear.
Sam couldn’t hear her next words over the pounding heartbeat in his ears, but whatever she said caused Dean’s already pale face to pale even further, and his bright green eyes darted over in Sam’s direction before focusing on the floor as she continued whispering in his ear.
Suddenly Sam noticed that the hold on him had lessened, most likely because the demon was distracted in tormenting Dean. With a soft grunt his forced his jaws apart, swallowed, and then began chanting.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-“
The effect was almost instantaneous on both the demon and Dean. The demon staggered away from Dean, her limbs stiff and her back arched. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting in pain as he grunted softly. Sam paused for a moment, horrified when he realized the exorcism was affecting his brother.
The demon took advantage of Sam’s distraction, throwing her head back. The skin covering Amanda’s throat rippled grotesquely as a plume of black smoke shot out of her mouth. As Amanda’s body fell back to the ground, the black cloud hovered for a moment, twisting around Dean before shooting out the door and into the night.
Both Winchesters dropped to their hands and knees with heavy thuds. For a moment the only sounds were Sam’s quick pants and Dean’s gasping breaths. Sam stared at Dean, who was barely preventing himself from curling up into a small ball. When he spoke, his voice was a croak. “Dean…”
Dean flinched and moved forward to check on the girl. Sam could tell by the empty look in Amanda’s eyes that she was dead, but said nothing as Dean checked her pulse. After a long moment, Dean sighed and gently closed her eyes with his fingers. He rocked backwards onto his feet and stood straight.
“We’ll have to phone in an anonymous tip,” he murmured, grabbing the shovel off the floor. He paused, keeping his back to Sam. “I’ll go fill in the grave. Get everything ready to go.”
Sam scrambled to his feet as Dean headed for the door. “Dean-”
Dean ignored him, hoisting the shovel over his shoulder and silently heading back for the clearing in the woods, leaving Sam standing in silence.
Sam moved to the doorway and watched as Dean disappeared into the trees, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed low. He never once looked back at the house – or at Sam. When Dean faded from sight, Sam silently gathered up their equipment, making sure to wipe down any prints in the room they might have left. Casting one last sad glance at the dead woman, he headed towards the Impala.
The squeaky hinge cut through the silence as Sam collapsed into the passenger seat. He closed his eyes and tipped his head against the cool glass of the window, swallowing several times. Finally he leaned forward, wiping moisture from his eyes as he pulled his journal out of the glove compartment.
I am such a screw-up.
tbc...
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But - awk - what has happened to him during the exorcism? What did the demon say? and poor Sam... will he ever be able to be the littlbrother again? Inquiring minds wanna know :P
Excellent story and I hope to see it updated again soon.
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no subject
Woey.
And I want to know right now what that demon said to Dean! Now! Tell me! Okay, I'll wait to find out.
This story is so awesome and I love the style of your writing. Through the journal entry first, then actual fact and repeating the last line of the journal entry.
I bow to your writing awesomeness!
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