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SPN Fic: Second Chances (1/1)
Man, I really need to stop with the Dean whumpage...
Title: Second Chances
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
legoline
Fandom: Supernatral
Rating/Warnings/Notes: R for violence and gory. There is much whumpage in this fic, I mean it. Gen fic. Works as post Devil's Trap but also on its own. 5,350 words.
Summary: "Killing that demon comes first, before everything." John faces himself with a cruel decision when the demon decides to possess and break Dean.
A/N: Much thanks tounhobbityhobbit for the beta. Oh, and this fic was inspired by one of astri13's and mine discussions :-)
Feedback: Is Love.
Second Chances
by Steffi
“And when we find Dean, what are we gonna do then?“
He said when, not if. He didn’t like “if”. “When” was a much better word. Sam sat on the passenger seat while his father was driving the car. His eyes were fixed on John who either didn’t notice or just ignored his son. In contrast to his father’s, Sam’s face showed a mixture of worry, fear and nervousness. It had been six months since Dean had disappeared. Or more precisely, it had been six months since the demon had chosen to possess John’s eldest son, and decided to use Dean’s body as its new host.
“Dad...” Sam repeated and this time John couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard his son, “What are we gonna do then?”
“I don’t know yet, Sammy.”
Well, at least he was being honest.
“You’re gonna shoot him, aren’t you?”
Silence. John’s knuckles went white as his hands tightened their grip around the the steering wheel.
“If I must.”
“You can’t do that!” Sam remarked with widened eyes. There was no reply from his father and it wasn’t like Sam had actually expected one. His hands formed to fists and he was trying hard not to lose it. Look out the window, Goddammit. Trees and houses passed him by like so many million times before, only then it had been Dean driving the car. The music wasn’t on. Sam couldn’t bear any music right now.
He wondered whether John could actually go through with it. Point a gun at his son and shoot him, just like that. If it came down to it, would he kill his own flesh and blood? Would he only see the demon that killed his wife or would he see the child he raised – and loved? Would he, Sam, be able to do it if he had to? If there was no other way, could he murder the person that had risked his own life so many times in the past year to save Sam’s?
In Hicksville they decided to eat something for lunch. Actually John decided, Sam didn’t much care. His father claimed that if they were to face the demon, they couldn’t do it hungrily. Sam didn’t know whether he was supposed to laugh or cry and so did neither. He refused his meal, as he was quite sure he’d never manage to keep a single bite down and he wondered how his father did it. Mind you, John didn’t look exactly happy either. He was eating slowly and every bite seemed to cost him strength. Sam ran his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to shove it back (his hair was way too thick and there was no use in even trying but he felt like he needed to do something) and let his chin rest in his hands. The silence between them soon became onerous, but neither of them broke it.
As they got back to the car and hit the road again, a thousand thoughts were rushing through Sam’s mind. It was horrible not knowing what to expect. Usually salt and holy water would do the trick, or at least protect them enough to get themselves out if the situation proved to be too tricky or dangerous. Usually they had at least a faint idea what was waiting for them. But now they were about to face a demon immune to the usual tricks, and he was also using Dean’s body. And what if they killed Dean by accident? How could they ever be sure if the demon was still possessing Dean? How would they tell if he wasn't?
Once, they had actually seen Dean, two months ago. No, not Dean, the demon. They’d been driving on an interstate at night, when all of a sudden Dean had appeared, almost out of nothing. He had just stood there in the middle of the street, like he was waiting for them, and John hadn’t been able to brake in time. He had hit Dean, crashed into him and Dean’s body had been dashed over the hood and the roof of the car and landed about ten meters away. The car itself span when John hit the brakes, and halted with the nose facing Dean’s body on the street. For a moment, nothing had happened and something was throbbing alarmingly behind Sam's forehead. And then Dean had opened his eyes, they had been yellow and shone in the darkness, and a grin had made its way across Dean’s face. The demon in Dean’s body had straightened, apparently unscathed. Before John or Sam had been able to do anything (though Sam wondered what, for the love of God, he’d been supposed to do) the demon was gone again. Just like that. They hadn’t seen him since then and both were wondering what the purpose of that little incident had been.
A shiver ran down Sam’s spine as he remembered the events. That demonic grin on his brother’s face was something he couldn’t push aside or banish to the back of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
“You’re being very quiet, Sammy.” John remarked.
“That surprises you?” Sam replied huffily. He hated it when his father called him by his stupid nickname. With Dean it was different – Sam had grown used to being addressed as “Sammy” by him, and also, Dean had sort of earned the privilege to call him that. John had not.
It was already growing dark when they arrived at an old deserted house in the middle of nowhere. The house was old, withered by time and made out of brown bricks. It looked like one of those sloping houses in Disney movies. The door was ajar. In a window a candle was burning.
“We're being expected,” John said, and reached for the colt. Sam nodded. They had sort of known that this was a trap since the demon had obviously left a trail on purpose to bait them there. But there was nothing they could do, was there? Their only chance to save Dean – if there still was a chance.
“We’ve only one bullet left.” Sam heard his father say. He felt anger rushing through him as he realised how cool, how matter-of-fact like John sounded.
“How will we know if it's Dean we’re facing, or the demon?” Sam asked.
John sighed. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up, Sammy. “
“How?” Sam insisted through clenched teeth.
Again John sighed. “The demon is a parasite, Sam. It has control over your senses and your motor function, and it also has access to your memories. And it’s a damn fine actor. I don’t think there’s any way of knowing...”
Sam nodded, his mouth now two thin lines, and took a deep breath before he got out of the car. Thoughts kept spinning in his head.
As the demon was apparently expecting them they decided there was no use in trying to surprise it, and weren’t exactly quiet as they entered the building – but very careful. For all they knew, everything here was a set up to capture and kill them. John lead Sam through the pitch black hallway. Every now and then Sam would almost stumble over a stone or stick lying in his way. The flashlight wasn’t much help. The smell of rat droppings was in the air. Every single muscle in Sam's body was tense. It was absolutely still.
Finally, the hallway ended in a big, empty room. The room was just as dark as the hallway. The flashlight’s bright circle of light wandered over the ceiling, and the walls until Sam let it examine the floor – and startled when it hit a crouched figure lying on the ground in between the dirt. It was Dean.
His arms were folded above his head as if he wanted to protect himself, his face contorted with pain. His shirt was completely tattered, the T-shirt underneath soaked in blood. His right leg was sticking out at a weird angle.
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed and, forgetting all caution, leaped forward. He was pulled back roughly by his father who threw a mad glance at his youngest son. “Are you insane?” he yelled.
At that moment, Dean stirred. His eyes opened slowly and as he looked up and recognised his father and Sam a mixture of horror and relief crossed his face. Sam jerked a little as he saw that expression because it hurt so much, and then Dean’s eyes changed their colour. The green was replaced by the demon’s yellow and the next thing Dean’s body was sitting up and then standing as if he was in no pain at all, as if the blood on the shirt was fake. The painful look on his face was gone and he was standing on both legs like they were equally unharmed. The demon grinned and a split second later John and Sam found themselves smacked against the wall. Groaning, Sam fell to the ground and dimly he could hear Dean’s voice cry: “Stop it! Let them go!”
Stunned, Sam opened his eyes to find Dean lying on the floor again, wheezing. The leg was in that weird angle again, and he appeared to be talking to himself. “Stop it...” he muttered over and over.
Slowly Sam brought himself into a sitting position and glanced over to his father who looked just as confused as Sam felt. What the hell was happening?
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was quiet, tender almost as it echoed through the room. John reached for Sam’s hand and whispered a “No” but Sam ignored him. “Dean?” he tried again.
Dean raised his head a little, his eyes searching for Sam’s. The brothers stared at each other carefully, both trying to estimate the other’s next movement. Sam could almost physically feel Dean’s fear and hear his silent cries for help. He didn’t even need his paranormal abilities for that, he just knew. He knew it was really Dean lying there now, but his father would have never believed him.
“Dean, is that you?”
Dean nodded weakly and added with a voice so fragile it scared the hell out of Sam:
“At the moment.”
“What do you mean...?” Sam asked, still ignoring John who kept telling him to not believe the demon, not a single word coming from his mouth.
“I...” Dean began but then his eyes rolled backwards and his head fell to the ground with a thud. Sam held his breath when Dean lost conscious, unintentionally, because he couldn’t make anything out of the situation. He only knew this was really Dean, he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. However, he had no time to think upon the matter further for suddenly Dean’s eyes flung open again only now they were yellow once more. With a jump he was standing on his feet and then an invisible hand started to strangle Sam and his father, while the demon’s eyes sparkled with evil and madness. Nothing seemed to be left of Dean now, this was the demon, it only looked like his brother. From the corners of his eyes Sam noticed how John jerked as if someone had beaten him in the face. Blood was dripping from his nose.
Slowly the demon approached them, still grinning. The sound of a slap in the air, John yelled. The sound again, something smacked against Sam’s head and pain rushed through him like something had broken his jaw. He was waiting for the next beat, for the next pain that surely must come – but it didn’t. Nothing happened.
Silence returned, silence except for a loud thud, the sound of something falling to the ground. Sam clenched his teeth and tried to fix his gaze upon something, some imaginary point as everything before his eyes was flickering heavily. He reminded himself to breathe in and out and his sight improved though his head still felt terrible. He heard someone gasp for air and reached for the flashlight. The light found Dean lying on the floor, at least, Sam hoped it was Dean. It seemed to be. Dean looked exhausted and tired, and – confused. His arms were covered in bruises and cuts that most definitely hadn’t been there just a couple of minutes ago. His chest was rising and sinking violently.
“Dean...” Sam whispered and crawled over to his brother. “Don’t!” John exclaimed but Sam didn’t listen. He reached out his hand for Dean, carefully, but Dean’s eyes only widened in terror and he tried to back off, which, considering his state, wouldn’t work. Instead he yelled “Don’t come any closer!” in a shrill and high pitched voice that made the blood in Sam’s veins freeze. He stopped.
“Dean, what...”
But Dean didn’t let Sam finish the sentence, he was panicking now, sweat showing on his forehead.
“You’ve got to kill me.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The only audible thing was Dean’s raspy breathing. Sam turned to his father, and he saw that John’s eyes had widened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered.
“Dad...” Sam’s words almost faded away in the room, he tried to talk louder but his voice failed him, “this is Dean.”
“How do you know?” his father asked, Sam could hear the fear resonating in John’s words.
“I just...do.” Sam told him. He really didn’t have the time or the wish to talk this through now, they could do that later. Dean’s words echoed in his head, You’ve got to kill me and unconsciously he shook his head, “You’ve lost your mind.” He informed Dean.
“It’s inside me, Sammy, and it won’t leave...I..” Dean coughed blood and Sam averted his eyes because he could feel himself being overcome by nausea. But almost instinctively he reached for Dean’s hand and his fingers closed around Dean’s. His older brother inhaled sharply and grimaced with pain.
“You can control the demon?” John burst into the silence. The scepticism and doubt was impossible to miss. “You can keep it away? From your mind?”
Dean’s lips curved to a faint smile, one of Dean’s smiles, the “I’m the greatest guy around” smile. A wave of relief rushed through Sam’s body as he realised that this here was still Dean, and though his body might be broken he was still his brother. He probably knew him better than anyone else. But the relief didn’t linger very long, for as Dean spoke his voice was different, rough and thick with pain.
“Only when I’m awake.” He coughed again, and more blood came accompanied by a barely audible whimper.
“I’ve never heard that someone was able to do that...”
“Does it really matter now?” Sam barked, the tone so sharp now it almost cut the air like a knife. Anger was in his eyes as he looked at his father, his own pain he’d long forgotten, it had moved to the back of his mind. He turned to Dean again.
“We’re going to help you, we’re going to do an exorcism and...”
He stopped and jerked when Dean suddenly laughed out loud. Bitterly, loudly, madly. The sound was terrible, like a madman laughing at another, and a tear found its way from Dean’s left eye and all the way down his cheek. “Meg.” He then whispered. It was just one word, but instantly Sam knew what his brother was trying to tell him.
“We don’t know...” he began, but Dean silenced him with a wave of his hand. The other hand, because Sam was still clinging to Dean's left one.
“Of course we do. Look at my body, Sammy. I’m done.”
The words were so matter-of-fact like, so emotionless it hurt Sam, it tore his heart apart. Dean was right. Dean knew Sam knew he was right. But still, Sam couldn’t admit it. He didn’t want to. He just wouldn’t.
“What the hell are you talking about?” John asked. Sweat was running down his temples.
“Meg...” Sam replied, and he sounded just as calm as Dean had before. “She died from her injuries after the demon had left her. And the reason why Dean isn’t...dead yet..., “It took Sam a moment before he could speak that out loud, “... is that the demon’s probably keeping him alive. If he really can’t leave Dean’s body. Even if Dean feels the injuries they’re not fatal now...but if we make the demon go he will...and that’s probably why the demon let us run over Dean....so that he really...if we...” Oh God, he couldn’t do it. Tears were burning behind his eyes, he just couldn’t accept it like Dean did and he’d never be able to do it. The demon had let himself run over by the car so that Dean would die from his injuries if they managed to expel the demon from Dean’s body.
John’s face grew white as he realised what that meant, for him, for their family, for Dean.
“There’s got to be another way...”
“No...” Dean answered weakly. He seemed to be close to losing consciousness again, his eyes were only half open. Then the demon would reappear and kill them once and for all, they all knew that, they didn’t have much time. Carefully, Sam placed his hands at each side of Deans face and made his voice as demanding and bidding as he could:
“Hey Dean, look at me, do you hear me? Look at me, look at my eyes...”
Dean would have liked to listen to Sam and grant his wish, but he was just so very, very tired. A whisper in his head told him to sleep, it was gentle and tender and he was willing to do as it told him - until he realised it was the voice of the demon and his eyes flung open again, he heard himself cry “No!” and he saw Sammy jerk a little. Dean’s eyes searched for Sam’s and locked to them, focus focus focus, and suddenly staying awake wasn’t that hard anymore though still hard enough.
“Quick...” he whispered and grabbed Sam’s hand. “I can’t hold it back much longer.” The expression on his face changed and his eyes suddenly got an almost begging look to them. “You’ve got to kill me, Sammy. You’ve got to, you understand?” Another cough, another whimper. Sam found it hard not to look away. “Listen....I’m going to die, one way or another. But that way, I’m taking it with me..and...” His breath was coming in heavy rasps now, every word was demanding so much of him that Sam just wanted to silence his brother, tell him to shut the fuck up and concentrate on surviving this. But he couldn’t.
“...this will be over”, Dean continued and then out of the blue a smile appeared on his face , “and you can go back to college, Sammy.”
Sam shook his head, unwilling to believe what Dean had just said, what he was asking of Sam. No, he couldn’t do that and he felt a big lump grow in his throat. Damn it, Dean, why did you have to be such a self-sacrificing bastard?
“I don’t care.” He replied.
“Please, Sammy...please. It’s the best for all of us.”
Suddenly John was beside Sam. “Dean...” he said gently, letting his hand run through his son’s hair carefully, calmingly, comfortingly. “Never. We're not going to kill you. Never.”
Then he turned to Sam. “Go to the car and get Bobby’s book, and paint. A marker. Anything. We need one of those protective circles. Go!”
For once in his life, Sam followed his father’s order without questions, or remarks, he just got to his feet and ran outside. John’s hand was resting on Dean’s head. His son was still begging to kill him, to end this here, he was so desperate to do it, to kill the demon and give their family their lives back. But his voice was growing fainter and John knew that Dean was probably right, that he was going to die anyway. But if that was so, if Dean really would die tonight, he wouldn’t leave this world with a demon locked inside him.
The sound of footsteps announced Sam’s return, he dropped the book to the floor and pulled out a black marker. ”Just hold on a little longer...” John said, while Sam was drawing the symbols on the floor.
The circle was done, it was pretty makeshift but it would do. Carefully they carried Dean over into the middle of the ring. When they finally put him down to the ground, Dean whimpered, whimpered loudly in a way Sam had never before heard him whimper, hear him admit his pain so openly.
“Dean?” Sam was kneeling beside his brother. His voice trembled violently as he said: “We’ll begin now. You can let go. And...” He didn’t know what else to say. God, what were you supposed to say if you knew that you’d possibly talking to your brother for the last time? He couldn’t think of anything but Dean nodded faintly, he’d understood.
“You’ll make it through.” John said, and then Sam and John straightened, almost simultaneously. As soon as they were out of the circle and safe, Dean let finally go to unconsciousness. Almost instantly the demon was there.
He leaped on his feet, in Dean’s broken body, like a puppet. The body was bleeding, the bones were smashed and yet he moved as if he was in perfect health.
“Very clever.” The demon grinned. “A protective circle! How neat! I’m powerless.”
Neither John nor Sam said a word. Slowly Sam opened the book and turned the pages until he found the spell that would expel the demon.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Sammy?” the demon said with Dean’s voice. “Kill your brother? Is that in you Sammy? Do you have what it takes?” He laughed. “You lot! You humans! You’re given the opportunity to kill your arch enemy, get rid of it once and for all – and instead you decide to rather save this damaged and useless body.” A dramatic sigh. “You’re going to expel me from this body. Neat. You do know, I hope, that you won’t send me to hell, right? Works only on minor demons. And your hero here – he’s going to kick the bucket. I made sure he will. You’ll gain nothing.”
Sam didn’t answer, but he was furious. He could feel his pulse rising, anger piling up – he felt the urge to jump into the circle and beat the crap out of the demon. Only it was still his brother’s body, and Dean was still in there, somewhere. He heard his father say “Begin.” And so he did.
The following minutes were terrifying, horrible, and if it hadn’t been for John, who urged Sam to keep on reading, he would have probably just taken off. The room filled with the screams and roars of the demon as Sam spoke out the Latin verses until Sam thought he couldn’t keep the book in his hands a moment longer. Dean’s body was contorted and convulsing, he was screaming and scratching himself. John had averted his gaze, Sam noticed.
At last, the demon rose and hovered in the air, underneath the ceiling while Sam read out the final words of the spell. For the last time Dean’s body contorted, before the demon released him and vanished. Dean’s boy fell to the ground, there was a horrible creak as another bone broke, and Sam felt like he’d throw up right here and now. Dean didn’t stir.
For two seconds there was absolute and perfect stillness. Then Sam and John leaped forward to Dean. Now that the demon had left Dean’s body the injuries seemed twice as grave, at least . He was covered in bruises and cuts, even rashes. Not a single inch of Dean’s skin appeared to be unharmed, and these were just the injuries they could see, that were on the surface. Even his hair was clotted by blood.
“Jesus Christ.” Sam whispered. He covered his mouth with his hand and suppressed the urge to retch. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move and the only thought actually making its way to his mind was the sensation that maybe it would have been better if they’d killed Dean after all. Maybe it would have been kinder. John looked like he was thinking the same as he reached out two fingers and put them to Dean’s neck. Sam closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly but he couldn’t, and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold those tears back much longer. This had to be a nightmare, a nightmare he’d wake from soon. Please God, let this be a nightmare.
Time stood still. Nothing moved.
“Sam...” John suddenly said and the tone made Sam listen attentively, “I can feel a pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. Dean’s still alive.”
Later Sam couldn’t remember how exactly they’d gotten Dean to and in the car, his memories set in when he was already sitting on the back seat and they were on the way to the hospital. Dean was leaning against his body and Sam tried to support him which proved to be tricky since he was so afraid to touch his brother. Above all things he didn’t want to cause more pain. He kept talking to Dean quietly but would stop every now and then to listen for his brother’s breath and feel the pulse.
The drive seemed as if it’d never end, until John finally parked the car in front of the entrance of an hospital. He almost jumped out of the car and returned a moment later with a couple of nurses and a doctor.
“We’re here, Dean.” Sam said. “Don’t you give up now...don’t you dare to give up now.” By now he was begging.
***
No one asked. No one wanted to know what had really happened. “He was beaten up.” John said, and that information was good enough for them. Even though everyone could see that something a lot worse must have happened. Maybe they just didn’t care.
They treated John and Sam, too. Which Sam regarded as an incredible waste of money, after all, he didn’t feel any pain. They bandaged his arm and put some band-aids on his face and let him go. He went back to the waiting room where he found his father. He, too, had a band aid on his face. Sam grinned. He didn’t know why, though.
He’d never seen his father like this. He seemed very small as he sat there, white and the chin resting in his hands, the gaze fixed upon some point on the wall that only he could see. He didn’t seem to notice either the tumult around him nor the approach of his son. It wasn’t until Sam sat down next to him he was pulled from his thoughts.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Sam nodded and stared at the glossy magazines on the table. “Have you heard anything yet?”
John shook his hand and ran his hand through his face. “Nothing. All they said was that it’s gonna be a long surgery.”
“Will he...”
“I don’t know, Sammy.”
All of a sudden John looked as if he was to burst into tears, and that frightened Sam beyond everything, even beyond the worry about Dean. He looked old and tired, like someone who’d worked far too many hours in his life. And Sam knew that John was thinking about all the times now that he’d ordered Dean around and made him feel he was no good, and about all the times he’d failed to tell Dean that he loved him.
“What have I done?” John muttered, more to himself. He wasn’t expecting an answer and, to be frank, Sam didn't have one.
Time passed by, minute by minute. The hospital grew more or less quiet, and still there had been no message whatsoever from the OR. Sam didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad sign, and he tried his best not to think about it. Time ticked on, 3:41am, 3:42am, 3:43am...eventually he fell asleep as exhaustion overwhelmed him.
When he woke up an hour later the first thing he noticed was that something was different. He couldn’t remember exactly how he’d fallen asleep but he was fairly sure it hadn’t been like this. John had carefully wrapped his arm around Sam and Sam’s head was resting on John’s shoulder. A long time ago, before Sam had grown so angry and rebellious, John had often held him like that when he was scared or sad. Under normal circumstances Sam would have shrugged off the hug uncomfortably. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Sam was hungry for a little comfort, and maybe pretending that he was five years old again wasn’t so bad. He didn’t let his father know he wasn’t asleep anymore, and dozed off again.
Through the darkness he heard his father’s voice, “Sam? Sam, wake up!”
As Sam woke up and opened his eyes he realised his father no longer had his arm wrapped around Sam. He must have pulled away before he’d woken his son. Maybe he’d been afraid of Sam’s reaction. Curiously the thought hurt Sam a little. It took him a moment before he remembered where he was and when he did, he was instantly wide awake. He sat up with a jolt, but before he could even utter a single question John already answered: “The doctor’s just been here. Dean’s been brought to the intensive care ward.”
Sam felt the blood receding from his face. His hands were shaking violently and he couldn’t control it, no matter how hard he tried. Quickly he put them into the pockets of his jacket. He felt sick. The next seconds were about to decide over the future, a future with or without Dean – Sam didn’t even dare to think about the latter option. He tried to read his father’s face but it proved to be impossible.
“The doctors say his chances are less than fifteen percent.” He said tonelessly. Then his face brightened up a little. “But we know our Dean, don’t we? If he’s got a chance, he’ll make it.” Sam heard himself breathe a sigh of relief. His father was right. And Dean wasn’t dead and Sam just knew that he wouldn’t be in the near future as well. Dean would make it. Had to. There was no way he wouldn’t, simple as that.
“He’s under heavy medication, but we can see him. You just shouldn’t expect any meaningful deep conversations from him.” John added.
And Sam actually managed to smile. How easy it suddenly came to him. “I never do.”
They got to their feet. Dean’s room was on the same floor. Neither of them spoke on their way and when they reached the door leading to Dean’s room they stopped as if they’d been stuck by a lightning. Sam saw that his father’s hands were shaking. Twice he reached for the door knob but never really grabbed it, never opened the door. He seemed to be debating with himself whether touching the knob or not would possibly burn him and send him straight to hell. Somewhat hesitantly Sam put his hand on John’s shoulder.
“It’s a second chance.” He said. He didn’t know where the words came from, they were just...there. “This time you can make everything alright.”
John’s lips formed a smile, and he nodded. Then he finally opened the door, and Sam and John entered the room.
Fifteen percent the doctors had said. It wasn’t much, granted. It was far from much. Chances were against them. Sam knew the possibilty of Dean dying was greater than Dean surviving this. It was there, in his head, and it wasn’t like he was not scared. Quite the opposite.
But now they were with him, John was there, too – they’d be there. They would see this through together, and that was something to hold onto.
-end-
Title: Second Chances
Author:
legolineFandom: Supernatral
Rating/Warnings/Notes: R for violence and gory. There is much whumpage in this fic, I mean it. Gen fic. Works as post Devil's Trap but also on its own. 5,350 words.
Summary: "Killing that demon comes first, before everything." John faces himself with a cruel decision when the demon decides to possess and break Dean.
A/N: Much thanks to
unhobbityhobbit for the beta. Oh, and this fic was inspired by one of astri13's and mine discussions :-)Feedback: Is Love.
by Steffi
“And when we find Dean, what are we gonna do then?“
He said when, not if. He didn’t like “if”. “When” was a much better word. Sam sat on the passenger seat while his father was driving the car. His eyes were fixed on John who either didn’t notice or just ignored his son. In contrast to his father’s, Sam’s face showed a mixture of worry, fear and nervousness. It had been six months since Dean had disappeared. Or more precisely, it had been six months since the demon had chosen to possess John’s eldest son, and decided to use Dean’s body as its new host.
“Dad...” Sam repeated and this time John couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard his son, “What are we gonna do then?”
“I don’t know yet, Sammy.”
Well, at least he was being honest.
“You’re gonna shoot him, aren’t you?”
Silence. John’s knuckles went white as his hands tightened their grip around the the steering wheel.
“If I must.”
“You can’t do that!” Sam remarked with widened eyes. There was no reply from his father and it wasn’t like Sam had actually expected one. His hands formed to fists and he was trying hard not to lose it. Look out the window, Goddammit. Trees and houses passed him by like so many million times before, only then it had been Dean driving the car. The music wasn’t on. Sam couldn’t bear any music right now.
He wondered whether John could actually go through with it. Point a gun at his son and shoot him, just like that. If it came down to it, would he kill his own flesh and blood? Would he only see the demon that killed his wife or would he see the child he raised – and loved? Would he, Sam, be able to do it if he had to? If there was no other way, could he murder the person that had risked his own life so many times in the past year to save Sam’s?
In Hicksville they decided to eat something for lunch. Actually John decided, Sam didn’t much care. His father claimed that if they were to face the demon, they couldn’t do it hungrily. Sam didn’t know whether he was supposed to laugh or cry and so did neither. He refused his meal, as he was quite sure he’d never manage to keep a single bite down and he wondered how his father did it. Mind you, John didn’t look exactly happy either. He was eating slowly and every bite seemed to cost him strength. Sam ran his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to shove it back (his hair was way too thick and there was no use in even trying but he felt like he needed to do something) and let his chin rest in his hands. The silence between them soon became onerous, but neither of them broke it.
As they got back to the car and hit the road again, a thousand thoughts were rushing through Sam’s mind. It was horrible not knowing what to expect. Usually salt and holy water would do the trick, or at least protect them enough to get themselves out if the situation proved to be too tricky or dangerous. Usually they had at least a faint idea what was waiting for them. But now they were about to face a demon immune to the usual tricks, and he was also using Dean’s body. And what if they killed Dean by accident? How could they ever be sure if the demon was still possessing Dean? How would they tell if he wasn't?
Once, they had actually seen Dean, two months ago. No, not Dean, the demon. They’d been driving on an interstate at night, when all of a sudden Dean had appeared, almost out of nothing. He had just stood there in the middle of the street, like he was waiting for them, and John hadn’t been able to brake in time. He had hit Dean, crashed into him and Dean’s body had been dashed over the hood and the roof of the car and landed about ten meters away. The car itself span when John hit the brakes, and halted with the nose facing Dean’s body on the street. For a moment, nothing had happened and something was throbbing alarmingly behind Sam's forehead. And then Dean had opened his eyes, they had been yellow and shone in the darkness, and a grin had made its way across Dean’s face. The demon in Dean’s body had straightened, apparently unscathed. Before John or Sam had been able to do anything (though Sam wondered what, for the love of God, he’d been supposed to do) the demon was gone again. Just like that. They hadn’t seen him since then and both were wondering what the purpose of that little incident had been.
A shiver ran down Sam’s spine as he remembered the events. That demonic grin on his brother’s face was something he couldn’t push aside or banish to the back of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
“You’re being very quiet, Sammy.” John remarked.
“That surprises you?” Sam replied huffily. He hated it when his father called him by his stupid nickname. With Dean it was different – Sam had grown used to being addressed as “Sammy” by him, and also, Dean had sort of earned the privilege to call him that. John had not.
It was already growing dark when they arrived at an old deserted house in the middle of nowhere. The house was old, withered by time and made out of brown bricks. It looked like one of those sloping houses in Disney movies. The door was ajar. In a window a candle was burning.
“We're being expected,” John said, and reached for the colt. Sam nodded. They had sort of known that this was a trap since the demon had obviously left a trail on purpose to bait them there. But there was nothing they could do, was there? Their only chance to save Dean – if there still was a chance.
“We’ve only one bullet left.” Sam heard his father say. He felt anger rushing through him as he realised how cool, how matter-of-fact like John sounded.
“How will we know if it's Dean we’re facing, or the demon?” Sam asked.
John sighed. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up, Sammy. “
“How?” Sam insisted through clenched teeth.
Again John sighed. “The demon is a parasite, Sam. It has control over your senses and your motor function, and it also has access to your memories. And it’s a damn fine actor. I don’t think there’s any way of knowing...”
Sam nodded, his mouth now two thin lines, and took a deep breath before he got out of the car. Thoughts kept spinning in his head.
As the demon was apparently expecting them they decided there was no use in trying to surprise it, and weren’t exactly quiet as they entered the building – but very careful. For all they knew, everything here was a set up to capture and kill them. John lead Sam through the pitch black hallway. Every now and then Sam would almost stumble over a stone or stick lying in his way. The flashlight wasn’t much help. The smell of rat droppings was in the air. Every single muscle in Sam's body was tense. It was absolutely still.
Finally, the hallway ended in a big, empty room. The room was just as dark as the hallway. The flashlight’s bright circle of light wandered over the ceiling, and the walls until Sam let it examine the floor – and startled when it hit a crouched figure lying on the ground in between the dirt. It was Dean.
His arms were folded above his head as if he wanted to protect himself, his face contorted with pain. His shirt was completely tattered, the T-shirt underneath soaked in blood. His right leg was sticking out at a weird angle.
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed and, forgetting all caution, leaped forward. He was pulled back roughly by his father who threw a mad glance at his youngest son. “Are you insane?” he yelled.
At that moment, Dean stirred. His eyes opened slowly and as he looked up and recognised his father and Sam a mixture of horror and relief crossed his face. Sam jerked a little as he saw that expression because it hurt so much, and then Dean’s eyes changed their colour. The green was replaced by the demon’s yellow and the next thing Dean’s body was sitting up and then standing as if he was in no pain at all, as if the blood on the shirt was fake. The painful look on his face was gone and he was standing on both legs like they were equally unharmed. The demon grinned and a split second later John and Sam found themselves smacked against the wall. Groaning, Sam fell to the ground and dimly he could hear Dean’s voice cry: “Stop it! Let them go!”
Stunned, Sam opened his eyes to find Dean lying on the floor again, wheezing. The leg was in that weird angle again, and he appeared to be talking to himself. “Stop it...” he muttered over and over.
Slowly Sam brought himself into a sitting position and glanced over to his father who looked just as confused as Sam felt. What the hell was happening?
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was quiet, tender almost as it echoed through the room. John reached for Sam’s hand and whispered a “No” but Sam ignored him. “Dean?” he tried again.
Dean raised his head a little, his eyes searching for Sam’s. The brothers stared at each other carefully, both trying to estimate the other’s next movement. Sam could almost physically feel Dean’s fear and hear his silent cries for help. He didn’t even need his paranormal abilities for that, he just knew. He knew it was really Dean lying there now, but his father would have never believed him.
“Dean, is that you?”
Dean nodded weakly and added with a voice so fragile it scared the hell out of Sam:
“At the moment.”
“What do you mean...?” Sam asked, still ignoring John who kept telling him to not believe the demon, not a single word coming from his mouth.
“I...” Dean began but then his eyes rolled backwards and his head fell to the ground with a thud. Sam held his breath when Dean lost conscious, unintentionally, because he couldn’t make anything out of the situation. He only knew this was really Dean, he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. However, he had no time to think upon the matter further for suddenly Dean’s eyes flung open again only now they were yellow once more. With a jump he was standing on his feet and then an invisible hand started to strangle Sam and his father, while the demon’s eyes sparkled with evil and madness. Nothing seemed to be left of Dean now, this was the demon, it only looked like his brother. From the corners of his eyes Sam noticed how John jerked as if someone had beaten him in the face. Blood was dripping from his nose.
Slowly the demon approached them, still grinning. The sound of a slap in the air, John yelled. The sound again, something smacked against Sam’s head and pain rushed through him like something had broken his jaw. He was waiting for the next beat, for the next pain that surely must come – but it didn’t. Nothing happened.
Silence returned, silence except for a loud thud, the sound of something falling to the ground. Sam clenched his teeth and tried to fix his gaze upon something, some imaginary point as everything before his eyes was flickering heavily. He reminded himself to breathe in and out and his sight improved though his head still felt terrible. He heard someone gasp for air and reached for the flashlight. The light found Dean lying on the floor, at least, Sam hoped it was Dean. It seemed to be. Dean looked exhausted and tired, and – confused. His arms were covered in bruises and cuts that most definitely hadn’t been there just a couple of minutes ago. His chest was rising and sinking violently.
“Dean...” Sam whispered and crawled over to his brother. “Don’t!” John exclaimed but Sam didn’t listen. He reached out his hand for Dean, carefully, but Dean’s eyes only widened in terror and he tried to back off, which, considering his state, wouldn’t work. Instead he yelled “Don’t come any closer!” in a shrill and high pitched voice that made the blood in Sam’s veins freeze. He stopped.
“Dean, what...”
But Dean didn’t let Sam finish the sentence, he was panicking now, sweat showing on his forehead.
“You’ve got to kill me.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The only audible thing was Dean’s raspy breathing. Sam turned to his father, and he saw that John’s eyes had widened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered.
“Dad...” Sam’s words almost faded away in the room, he tried to talk louder but his voice failed him, “this is Dean.”
“How do you know?” his father asked, Sam could hear the fear resonating in John’s words.
“I just...do.” Sam told him. He really didn’t have the time or the wish to talk this through now, they could do that later. Dean’s words echoed in his head, You’ve got to kill me and unconsciously he shook his head, “You’ve lost your mind.” He informed Dean.
“It’s inside me, Sammy, and it won’t leave...I..” Dean coughed blood and Sam averted his eyes because he could feel himself being overcome by nausea. But almost instinctively he reached for Dean’s hand and his fingers closed around Dean’s. His older brother inhaled sharply and grimaced with pain.
“You can control the demon?” John burst into the silence. The scepticism and doubt was impossible to miss. “You can keep it away? From your mind?”
Dean’s lips curved to a faint smile, one of Dean’s smiles, the “I’m the greatest guy around” smile. A wave of relief rushed through Sam’s body as he realised that this here was still Dean, and though his body might be broken he was still his brother. He probably knew him better than anyone else. But the relief didn’t linger very long, for as Dean spoke his voice was different, rough and thick with pain.
“Only when I’m awake.” He coughed again, and more blood came accompanied by a barely audible whimper.
“I’ve never heard that someone was able to do that...”
“Does it really matter now?” Sam barked, the tone so sharp now it almost cut the air like a knife. Anger was in his eyes as he looked at his father, his own pain he’d long forgotten, it had moved to the back of his mind. He turned to Dean again.
“We’re going to help you, we’re going to do an exorcism and...”
He stopped and jerked when Dean suddenly laughed out loud. Bitterly, loudly, madly. The sound was terrible, like a madman laughing at another, and a tear found its way from Dean’s left eye and all the way down his cheek. “Meg.” He then whispered. It was just one word, but instantly Sam knew what his brother was trying to tell him.
“We don’t know...” he began, but Dean silenced him with a wave of his hand. The other hand, because Sam was still clinging to Dean's left one.
“Of course we do. Look at my body, Sammy. I’m done.”
The words were so matter-of-fact like, so emotionless it hurt Sam, it tore his heart apart. Dean was right. Dean knew Sam knew he was right. But still, Sam couldn’t admit it. He didn’t want to. He just wouldn’t.
“What the hell are you talking about?” John asked. Sweat was running down his temples.
“Meg...” Sam replied, and he sounded just as calm as Dean had before. “She died from her injuries after the demon had left her. And the reason why Dean isn’t...dead yet..., “It took Sam a moment before he could speak that out loud, “... is that the demon’s probably keeping him alive. If he really can’t leave Dean’s body. Even if Dean feels the injuries they’re not fatal now...but if we make the demon go he will...and that’s probably why the demon let us run over Dean....so that he really...if we...” Oh God, he couldn’t do it. Tears were burning behind his eyes, he just couldn’t accept it like Dean did and he’d never be able to do it. The demon had let himself run over by the car so that Dean would die from his injuries if they managed to expel the demon from Dean’s body.
John’s face grew white as he realised what that meant, for him, for their family, for Dean.
“There’s got to be another way...”
“No...” Dean answered weakly. He seemed to be close to losing consciousness again, his eyes were only half open. Then the demon would reappear and kill them once and for all, they all knew that, they didn’t have much time. Carefully, Sam placed his hands at each side of Deans face and made his voice as demanding and bidding as he could:
“Hey Dean, look at me, do you hear me? Look at me, look at my eyes...”
Dean would have liked to listen to Sam and grant his wish, but he was just so very, very tired. A whisper in his head told him to sleep, it was gentle and tender and he was willing to do as it told him - until he realised it was the voice of the demon and his eyes flung open again, he heard himself cry “No!” and he saw Sammy jerk a little. Dean’s eyes searched for Sam’s and locked to them, focus focus focus, and suddenly staying awake wasn’t that hard anymore though still hard enough.
“Quick...” he whispered and grabbed Sam’s hand. “I can’t hold it back much longer.” The expression on his face changed and his eyes suddenly got an almost begging look to them. “You’ve got to kill me, Sammy. You’ve got to, you understand?” Another cough, another whimper. Sam found it hard not to look away. “Listen....I’m going to die, one way or another. But that way, I’m taking it with me..and...” His breath was coming in heavy rasps now, every word was demanding so much of him that Sam just wanted to silence his brother, tell him to shut the fuck up and concentrate on surviving this. But he couldn’t.
“...this will be over”, Dean continued and then out of the blue a smile appeared on his face , “and you can go back to college, Sammy.”
Sam shook his head, unwilling to believe what Dean had just said, what he was asking of Sam. No, he couldn’t do that and he felt a big lump grow in his throat. Damn it, Dean, why did you have to be such a self-sacrificing bastard?
“I don’t care.” He replied.
“Please, Sammy...please. It’s the best for all of us.”
Suddenly John was beside Sam. “Dean...” he said gently, letting his hand run through his son’s hair carefully, calmingly, comfortingly. “Never. We're not going to kill you. Never.”
Then he turned to Sam. “Go to the car and get Bobby’s book, and paint. A marker. Anything. We need one of those protective circles. Go!”
For once in his life, Sam followed his father’s order without questions, or remarks, he just got to his feet and ran outside. John’s hand was resting on Dean’s head. His son was still begging to kill him, to end this here, he was so desperate to do it, to kill the demon and give their family their lives back. But his voice was growing fainter and John knew that Dean was probably right, that he was going to die anyway. But if that was so, if Dean really would die tonight, he wouldn’t leave this world with a demon locked inside him.
The sound of footsteps announced Sam’s return, he dropped the book to the floor and pulled out a black marker. ”Just hold on a little longer...” John said, while Sam was drawing the symbols on the floor.
The circle was done, it was pretty makeshift but it would do. Carefully they carried Dean over into the middle of the ring. When they finally put him down to the ground, Dean whimpered, whimpered loudly in a way Sam had never before heard him whimper, hear him admit his pain so openly.
“Dean?” Sam was kneeling beside his brother. His voice trembled violently as he said: “We’ll begin now. You can let go. And...” He didn’t know what else to say. God, what were you supposed to say if you knew that you’d possibly talking to your brother for the last time? He couldn’t think of anything but Dean nodded faintly, he’d understood.
“You’ll make it through.” John said, and then Sam and John straightened, almost simultaneously. As soon as they were out of the circle and safe, Dean let finally go to unconsciousness. Almost instantly the demon was there.
He leaped on his feet, in Dean’s broken body, like a puppet. The body was bleeding, the bones were smashed and yet he moved as if he was in perfect health.
“Very clever.” The demon grinned. “A protective circle! How neat! I’m powerless.”
Neither John nor Sam said a word. Slowly Sam opened the book and turned the pages until he found the spell that would expel the demon.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Sammy?” the demon said with Dean’s voice. “Kill your brother? Is that in you Sammy? Do you have what it takes?” He laughed. “You lot! You humans! You’re given the opportunity to kill your arch enemy, get rid of it once and for all – and instead you decide to rather save this damaged and useless body.” A dramatic sigh. “You’re going to expel me from this body. Neat. You do know, I hope, that you won’t send me to hell, right? Works only on minor demons. And your hero here – he’s going to kick the bucket. I made sure he will. You’ll gain nothing.”
Sam didn’t answer, but he was furious. He could feel his pulse rising, anger piling up – he felt the urge to jump into the circle and beat the crap out of the demon. Only it was still his brother’s body, and Dean was still in there, somewhere. He heard his father say “Begin.” And so he did.
The following minutes were terrifying, horrible, and if it hadn’t been for John, who urged Sam to keep on reading, he would have probably just taken off. The room filled with the screams and roars of the demon as Sam spoke out the Latin verses until Sam thought he couldn’t keep the book in his hands a moment longer. Dean’s body was contorted and convulsing, he was screaming and scratching himself. John had averted his gaze, Sam noticed.
At last, the demon rose and hovered in the air, underneath the ceiling while Sam read out the final words of the spell. For the last time Dean’s body contorted, before the demon released him and vanished. Dean’s boy fell to the ground, there was a horrible creak as another bone broke, and Sam felt like he’d throw up right here and now. Dean didn’t stir.
For two seconds there was absolute and perfect stillness. Then Sam and John leaped forward to Dean. Now that the demon had left Dean’s body the injuries seemed twice as grave, at least . He was covered in bruises and cuts, even rashes. Not a single inch of Dean’s skin appeared to be unharmed, and these were just the injuries they could see, that were on the surface. Even his hair was clotted by blood.
“Jesus Christ.” Sam whispered. He covered his mouth with his hand and suppressed the urge to retch. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move and the only thought actually making its way to his mind was the sensation that maybe it would have been better if they’d killed Dean after all. Maybe it would have been kinder. John looked like he was thinking the same as he reached out two fingers and put them to Dean’s neck. Sam closed his eyes and tried to breathe calmly but he couldn’t, and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold those tears back much longer. This had to be a nightmare, a nightmare he’d wake from soon. Please God, let this be a nightmare.
Time stood still. Nothing moved.
“Sam...” John suddenly said and the tone made Sam listen attentively, “I can feel a pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. Dean’s still alive.”
Later Sam couldn’t remember how exactly they’d gotten Dean to and in the car, his memories set in when he was already sitting on the back seat and they were on the way to the hospital. Dean was leaning against his body and Sam tried to support him which proved to be tricky since he was so afraid to touch his brother. Above all things he didn’t want to cause more pain. He kept talking to Dean quietly but would stop every now and then to listen for his brother’s breath and feel the pulse.
The drive seemed as if it’d never end, until John finally parked the car in front of the entrance of an hospital. He almost jumped out of the car and returned a moment later with a couple of nurses and a doctor.
“We’re here, Dean.” Sam said. “Don’t you give up now...don’t you dare to give up now.” By now he was begging.
***
No one asked. No one wanted to know what had really happened. “He was beaten up.” John said, and that information was good enough for them. Even though everyone could see that something a lot worse must have happened. Maybe they just didn’t care.
They treated John and Sam, too. Which Sam regarded as an incredible waste of money, after all, he didn’t feel any pain. They bandaged his arm and put some band-aids on his face and let him go. He went back to the waiting room where he found his father. He, too, had a band aid on his face. Sam grinned. He didn’t know why, though.
He’d never seen his father like this. He seemed very small as he sat there, white and the chin resting in his hands, the gaze fixed upon some point on the wall that only he could see. He didn’t seem to notice either the tumult around him nor the approach of his son. It wasn’t until Sam sat down next to him he was pulled from his thoughts.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Sam nodded and stared at the glossy magazines on the table. “Have you heard anything yet?”
John shook his hand and ran his hand through his face. “Nothing. All they said was that it’s gonna be a long surgery.”
“Will he...”
“I don’t know, Sammy.”
All of a sudden John looked as if he was to burst into tears, and that frightened Sam beyond everything, even beyond the worry about Dean. He looked old and tired, like someone who’d worked far too many hours in his life. And Sam knew that John was thinking about all the times now that he’d ordered Dean around and made him feel he was no good, and about all the times he’d failed to tell Dean that he loved him.
“What have I done?” John muttered, more to himself. He wasn’t expecting an answer and, to be frank, Sam didn't have one.
Time passed by, minute by minute. The hospital grew more or less quiet, and still there had been no message whatsoever from the OR. Sam didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad sign, and he tried his best not to think about it. Time ticked on, 3:41am, 3:42am, 3:43am...eventually he fell asleep as exhaustion overwhelmed him.
When he woke up an hour later the first thing he noticed was that something was different. He couldn’t remember exactly how he’d fallen asleep but he was fairly sure it hadn’t been like this. John had carefully wrapped his arm around Sam and Sam’s head was resting on John’s shoulder. A long time ago, before Sam had grown so angry and rebellious, John had often held him like that when he was scared or sad. Under normal circumstances Sam would have shrugged off the hug uncomfortably. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Sam was hungry for a little comfort, and maybe pretending that he was five years old again wasn’t so bad. He didn’t let his father know he wasn’t asleep anymore, and dozed off again.
Through the darkness he heard his father’s voice, “Sam? Sam, wake up!”
As Sam woke up and opened his eyes he realised his father no longer had his arm wrapped around Sam. He must have pulled away before he’d woken his son. Maybe he’d been afraid of Sam’s reaction. Curiously the thought hurt Sam a little. It took him a moment before he remembered where he was and when he did, he was instantly wide awake. He sat up with a jolt, but before he could even utter a single question John already answered: “The doctor’s just been here. Dean’s been brought to the intensive care ward.”
Sam felt the blood receding from his face. His hands were shaking violently and he couldn’t control it, no matter how hard he tried. Quickly he put them into the pockets of his jacket. He felt sick. The next seconds were about to decide over the future, a future with or without Dean – Sam didn’t even dare to think about the latter option. He tried to read his father’s face but it proved to be impossible.
“The doctors say his chances are less than fifteen percent.” He said tonelessly. Then his face brightened up a little. “But we know our Dean, don’t we? If he’s got a chance, he’ll make it.” Sam heard himself breathe a sigh of relief. His father was right. And Dean wasn’t dead and Sam just knew that he wouldn’t be in the near future as well. Dean would make it. Had to. There was no way he wouldn’t, simple as that.
“He’s under heavy medication, but we can see him. You just shouldn’t expect any meaningful deep conversations from him.” John added.
And Sam actually managed to smile. How easy it suddenly came to him. “I never do.”
They got to their feet. Dean’s room was on the same floor. Neither of them spoke on their way and when they reached the door leading to Dean’s room they stopped as if they’d been stuck by a lightning. Sam saw that his father’s hands were shaking. Twice he reached for the door knob but never really grabbed it, never opened the door. He seemed to be debating with himself whether touching the knob or not would possibly burn him and send him straight to hell. Somewhat hesitantly Sam put his hand on John’s shoulder.
“It’s a second chance.” He said. He didn’t know where the words came from, they were just...there. “This time you can make everything alright.”
John’s lips formed a smile, and he nodded. Then he finally opened the door, and Sam and John entered the room.
Fifteen percent the doctors had said. It wasn’t much, granted. It was far from much. Chances were against them. Sam knew the possibilty of Dean dying was greater than Dean surviving this. It was there, in his head, and it wasn’t like he was not scared. Quite the opposite.
But now they were with him, John was there, too – they’d be there. They would see this through together, and that was something to hold onto.
-end-
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“Of course we do. Look at my body, Sammy. I’m done.”
Dean is so bleak, so hopeless. It's wonderful! (Yes, I'm a sick girl.)
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Dean is so bleak, so hopeless. It's wonderful! (Yes, I'm a sick girl.)
Right there with you :-)
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John, poor guy, my goodness! I knew he could never purposely hurt Dean. Sam, awww having to decide to kill your brother, let him live being controlled by the demon in a private hell or exorcise the demon and be left with his broken body that wouldn't likely survive. And Dean... you break my heart every time!
To say the least, AWESOME job, as per usual! And I can't believe I haven't asked you this before, but would you mind if I friended you?
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Ow! *lol* Maybe I should write something funny next time - just to surprise everyone :-p
To say the least, AWESOME job, as per usual! And I can't believe I haven't asked you this before, but would you mind if I friended you
Thank you! *happy flail* And of course not, friend right away!
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This will never fail to give me warm fuzzy feelings. Our Dean. Awwwww.
I bow before your superb angstiness as usual. And I love how you always end it with at least a silver lining. Yay. :)
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You're so cute, you know that? :-)
I bow before your superb angstiness as usual.
Stoppit, I'm blushing :-p
And I love how you always end it with at least a silver lining. Yay. :)
Hehe, thank you. I guess at the end of the day, I'm a little optimist after all :-)
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Yes this could have been longer but somehow I'm hesitant to write a multi chapter story in English :-)
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Yeah you should stop, but this story is so intense and you're such a terrific writer that you can't stop :)
Now I want to believe that Dean is going to make. I wish I could see John like that, because after Devil's Trap I was pissed at him and I still am...I want John to be so caring and to realize that his sons come first.
Love your icon! Alec...*sigh*
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*blushes* Thank you :-)
I'd sell my sould for such a John moment, Dean so needs to hear his father loves him...
Yay Alec! :-) (And Ben...)
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Thanks for the review!
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This was an interesting take on how things might go if Dean is possessed.
Favorite lines:
The music wasn’t on. Sam couldn’t bear any music right now.
I really like this. I can totally picture Sam not wanting to hear any music at all because of how important music is to Dean.
“I’ve never heard that someone was able to do that...”
“Does it really matter now?” Sam barked
Yeah, Sam would definitely find John’s observation irritating and pointless, in light of what’s happening.
“...this will be over”, Dean continued and then out of the blue a smile appeared on his face , “and you can go back to college, Sammy.”
Dean thinking of Sam even in this situation … that’s so Dean. *hugs Dean*
“He’s under heavy medication, but we can see him. You just shouldn’t expect any meaningful deep conversations from him.” John added.
And Sam actually managed to smile. How easy it suddenly came to him. “I never do.”
*g* Nice use of humor.
Thanks for a good read.
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Loved the way you managed to capture everything i adore about the show, the strained relationship between John and his boys and of course Sam and Dean's relationship....beautiful.
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I'll be right there next to you in my flame-resistant knickers...
I really liked this. Does that make me a bad person?
*acts all concerned like she really cares anyway!*
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I really liked this. Does that make me a bad person?
*laughs* Okay that last sentence I heard with Meg's voice... darn :-)
Okay, at least the company will be good then - in hell, that is :-)
Question: where is your icon from? .-)
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You can tell I'm tired, I'm babbling. I love it. (I'm going to leave it there)
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But as we know Dean - he will make it and then the demon won't live any longer :D ....
I liked Sam's and Dean's conversation and how John changed from uncaring father to concerned father...
Great!
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Exactly :-)
So glad you like!
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I loovoved this story, it was beautiful, sad and absolutely
I will carry this story in my heart for a very long time, its that memorable. The suffering the Winchesters go through is agonizing but in the end Sam and John pull together. Dean is a fighter and we know he'll fight for himself, for his family.
Your characterizations of the three of them were spot-on and fantastic.
Thank you for sharing your talent, imagination and creativity with us.
Running off to read more of your scrumptious stories though I may not be able to give fb right away but I will give it as soon as I can.
take care
hugs
Angela
Re: I loovoved this story, it was beautiful, sad and absolutely
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And Sam actually managed to smile. How easy it suddenly came to him. “I never do.”
Made me smile and cry at the same time.
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