sams1ra

Title: Picking Up Where We Left Off
Disclaimer: This is Kripke's sandbox, I just like playing with his toys ;)
Rating: R, for language and violence.
Category: Gen.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby, OCs, other canon characters.
Wordcount: 2840
Spoilers: For all episodes aired in the US. This story is mostly AU for season 3, but some characters and events will be mentioned.

Comments: Feed my muse ;)

A/N: Much love and cookies to the awesomeness that is my beta tru_faith_lost , who helps making this story better. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Summary: Twenty five years ago, a demon killed Mary Winchester and tainted her son. Six years ago, someone drugged and abducted Dean Winchester. Nine months ago, one of the yellow eyed demon's tainted kids killed Sam Winchester. A few days later, the gates to hell opened and all hell broke loose. And now, everything's picking up where it left off....

Chapter Eleven

Bobby poured the liquid and filled the glass in front of him. Wordlessly, he pushed it across the table to Sam, who took a large draught of the stiff drink, his hand shaking as it made its way to his mouth. He grimaced as the drink went down. Bobby poured a glass for himself and sat down heavily across from Sam.

The musty motel room was dark; the light outside faded as the sun began its descent. Neither man bothered pushing open the blinds or turning the lights on.

"You need another drink, or is this the right time for me to rip you a new one for letting that demon play with your head like that?" Bobby asked.

Sam glared at him. "Do we really have to do this right now? I told you, Dean…"

"Yes, we have to do this, boy. You let a demon mess with your head! You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinkin?" He demanded, cutting Sam off.

"I didn’t know she was going to do that," Sam snapped, slamming the shot glass against the table and spilling half of what was left in it.

Bobby blinked. "Well, ain't that just the stupidest thing I ever heard comin' out of your mouth!" He said. "You know better, boy. You're smarter 'n this!"

"I was hoping she'd take me to him," Sam admitted, and Bobby was thankful the table was so small he could reach over and smack Sam on the side of his head without getting up.

Bobby sighed. "Sam," he shook his head. "Did she at least give you something we can use?" He asked.

Sam took his glass again, swished the liquid around a few times, and then finished it. "I don’t know where he is," Sam started, raising his hand to stop Bobby from talking. "But for some reason, he thinks I'm… God, Bobby, he thinks I'm dead." Sam ran his shaking hands through his hair and went on. "And they're going to do it, Bobby. They're going to kill him. I've seen it."

Bobby raised a brow at that. "Seen it? What, like a vision?" Bobby asked, the tone of his voice making Sam's flesh break out in goose bumps.

"What? No," Sam said quickly, shaking his head a little. "I… There are no more visions. Ruby showed it to me. With her… I dunno… magic, I guess," he said, and started gnawing on his thumbnail.

"And you believe it, what she showed you?" Bobby pressed on.

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do," he said, his voice breaking. "God, it felt… so bad, Bobby, so real. I can't take the chance. Even if it is a trap, I just can't…" Sam shook his head and got to his feet. He paced around a little, and then let out a frustrated cry. "If what Ruby showed me is true, Dean will be dead in less than two days!"

Bobby lowered his eyes, thinking, and then nodded, getting to his feet as well. "Alright," he said. "Forget the books. We'll hit the streets again. Split up to cover more ground. Call that Jake guy again, put some pressure on him. Maybe we can shake some more intel outta him."

Sam shook his head. "It's gonna take too long, we might be too late," he said, getting back to his pacing. He had one hand made in a fist and kept punching it in his other hand.

"Well, I don’t see you comin' up with better ideas," Bobby grunted.

Sam stopped his pacing and swallowed. "Well actually, um… I've been thinking," he started, not looking at Bobby.

"Yeah?"

"That demon, not Ruby, the other one, the other day at the park… She told me there were dozens of demons out there, guarding Dean and the others." Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly what Fiona had said, but Sam thought it was close enough. "She said the Colt alone wouldn't help us, that we need something else."

"Yeah?"

"And I've been thinking." Sam turned to Bobby now, both hands outstretched. "I mean, we get Dean outta this, we still have a deadline to deal with. Three months and counting before the Hell Hounds come collecting."

"Yeah?" Bobby's expression kept getting surlier and surlier.

"What if… What if I do what Ruby said? What if I… turn on the switch, use my powers or whatever," Sam started.

"Sam," Bobby cut him off.

"No, just… just hear me out, Bobby, alright?" Sam said quickly, defensively, raising his hand in the air and motioning Bobby to stop. "What if Ruby's right? What if, by using my psychic abilities or whatever, I could save Dean? And not just from the mess he's in now. What if I could save him from whatever it is he's going to face in three months?"

Bobby sighed. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

Sam frowned. "Sure."

"Why is this demon helping you?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I mean, demons don’t usually turn against their own when there're humans around to play with, Sam. And they sure as hell don’t help out hunters. So why's this one helping you?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "What does it matter? She wants to help, and right now, I need all the help I can get," Sam snapped, raising his voice. Bobby cuffed the side of his head again. "Ow!"

"You're lucky that's all I'm doing, ya idjit!" Bobby snapped, "Your brother would wipe the floor with you for giving him this crap as an answer!" He raised his voice, "'What does it matter?' What is this, your first day?"

"Look, I'm not going into this blind, okay? I'm not stupid, I know there's something else she wants," Sam said heatedly, circling Bobby. "But right now, what she wants and what I want are the same thing."

"Sam, you go down this road, you might not be able to get back," Bobby said, as patiently as he could. "You think that's what your brother would want?" It was a low blow, and Bobby knew it.

Sam glowered at him. "I think Dean would do the same thing for me."

Bobby nodded. "He already did," he yelled, "and look how well that turned out."

"It's not the same," Sam yelled back, his nostrils flaring, and pounded on the table. "I'm not going to let Dean die, Bobby!"

"We can still figure out another way. A better way," Bobby tried. Sam shook his head.

"It's just a waste of time," he said and started for the door, but Bobby got in his way.

"Sam."

Sam clenched and unclenched his jaw, looking down at the older hunter. "I can't let you do this, kid," Bobby asserted.

"He's the only family I've got left, Bobby. And I'm sorry, but I'm not taking orders from you," Sam said, and seeing the expression on the older man's face, he quickly added, "Look, I really appreciate what you're doing Bobby, what you've always done for us, but you have got to step away this time."

"The hell I do."

"Bobby," Sam started, but then just gave up and pushed the older hunter out of his way, reaching for the door.

"Goddamnit Sam!" Bobby cried out after him. "I am so going to enjoy watching your brother kick your ass for this!" He grabbed Sam's arm, stopping the younger man from leaving. "Are you out of your freakin' mind?" Bobby demanded, raising his voice. "You know there's no way I'm gonna let you walk outta here, don’tcha?"

Sam stared at him a few seconds, clenching and unclenching his fists, and then nodded. "Yeah, Bobby, I know," he said in a small voice. And then he decked Bobby, slipping out the door and slamming it shut before the older man even hit the floor.

"Ah, crap," Bobby said, rubbing his jaw. "Damn Winchesters."

Sam lingered by the closed door for a couple of seconds, shaking his aching fist. He felt no remorse, just the urgency of getting to his brother before it was too late.

He strode purposefully towards the Impala and fished the keys from his jacket pocket. He got in the car and put both his hands on the wheel, wishing his big brother was there to tell him what to do, to help him fix this. But his brother wasn’t there. That was the problem in the first place.

Huffing, Sam took out his cell phone and called Ruby. She answered on the sixth ring. "Okay, you win," Sam said, his voice quivering a little. "What do I have to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"To save Dean, what do you need me to do?"

It was three in the morning, and Dean had been missing for twelve days and change. Sam had been missing for a day, now, and this coffee was crap. Better than nothing, but still crap.

Bobby rubbed his tired eyes and poured himself another cup, fantasizing about his comfortable bed back home and cursing the Winchester name up and down. It was a quarter to four when someone knocked on the motel door, and Bobby reached for his gun. He cursed when he glimpsed out the window and saw a six foot four shadow. For a brief second, Bobby allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, Sam didn’t go along with it after all. And then that second passed, and Bobby cocked his gun and opened the door.

Sam ducked his head a little when the door opened. Smiled, which didn’t put Bobby at ease even a little bit. "Hey Bobby," he drawled like he had so many times before, but it was different this time, and Bobby had to stop himself from looking at Sam and seeing Sammy. This wasn’t Sammy anymore.

"What are you doing here, Sam?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"Can I come in?" Sam asked.

"I'm thinking no," Bobby answered, gun still pointed at Sam.

"I'm still me, Bobby. I'm still Sam. You can test me if you want, but it's still me," Sam said. Bobby made a sound at the back of his throat, but didn’t budge.

"D'ya do it? What that demon wanted? Did ya you do it?" He asked. Sam nodded slowly, letting his hair fall over his face.

"It was a lot easier than I thought," he said, "And it's so much more than I imagined, Bobby."

"Well, good for you," Bobby said and was about to shut the door in Sam's face, but Sam stopped him, his large hand on the painted plywood of the door.

"Bobby, please."

"You know where they're keeping your brother?" Bobby asked curtly. Sam nodded. "Well then, what are you here for, boy? Go get your brother. You paid greatly for it. Better get collectin'."

"Can I please come in?" Sam tried again. Bobby eyed him warily. "I'm not going to hurt you Bobby. I'm still me, I'm still Sam. Learning what I can do doesn’t change that," Sam said softly.

"We'll see about that," Bobby grunted. "Well, I'm guessing you could probably just snap your fingers and snatch my gun outta my hands anyway, can't you?" Bobby added and sighed. "Might as well come on in."

Sam smiled at him and got in the room. Bobby lowered the gun, but didn’t put it away.

"You know where your brother's at, what the hell are you here for, Sam? Why aren’t you out there, savin' him?"

Sam sat down and waited for Bobby to join him. When Bobby didn’t, Sam sighed. "There're too many of them. More than I can handle on my own," he admitted.

"Good thing you've got yourself a demon friend then," Bobby spat, and Sam lowered his head. "So what, you want me to come with you? Storm a house full of demons?"

"No," Sam said, and Bobby raised a brow.

"No?" He asked, making sure.

"No," Sam repeated. "I don’t want you to get killed, Bobby. Just the two of us against all of them?" Sam shrugged.

"What then?" Bobby demanded.

"Yellow Eyes talked about an army," Sam started, and Bobby cursed. He felt his way to a chair and collapsed down on it, dread washing over him.

"What are you saying, Sam?" He asked.

"It's not as strong as it used to be. I mean, with Lillith around and me being so new at this, there aren’t many that will follow me. But there are a few. More of them, soon enough."

"Jesus Christ, Sam."

"They will do as I tell them," Sam said matter-of-factly, and that creeped Bobby out even more. "I have a plan," Sam went on, "but I'm going to need your help."

"Doing what, exactly?"

Sam leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows over his knees, and lowered his head. "I want you to call every hunter you know, and tell them to call every hunter they know," he said calmly, and then looked up at Bobby. "I'm strong now, Bobby. But not strong enough. Not yet. I need… more."

Bobby cursed again, and Sam went on.

"Problem is, I'm not sure how much control I'm going to have. If I go deeper, if I use more of Yellow Eyes'… I don’t know… whatever. I need to make sure nothing happens. I need to make sure that if I even try to cross the line, someone will be there to stop me," Sam finished coolly.

There was a long moment of silence before Bobby gave a small nod, relieved to see something of Sammy still in there. "Alright, son. I'll do what I have to do," he promised.

"It's not all," Sam said, straightening up in his chair, and Bobby sighed. "I'm going to send my… army," The word tasted funny in his mouth. Sam took a deep breath and went on. "I'm going to send them after the demons that hold Dean. Do you understand what that means?" He asked, but didn’t really expect an answer. "It means there's gonna be a whole lot of demons in one place. It means, if there happened to be hunters around, a lot of demons could be going back to Hell."

Bobby was dumbstruck for a long moment. "Jesus Christ!" He finally breathed. Sam looked at him, but said nothing. "Why would you want to kill demons if they're helping you?" Bobby demanded. Sam shrugged.

"If they really are helpful, I'll get them out. We'll go after Lillith. There's another hourglass counting down that needs to be stopped." Sam got up from his seat and walked over to stand behind it, leaning against the backrest. "And if they're not helpful… Well, Hell's going to get a little bit more crowded."

Bobby sat there, shocked, for what felt like forever. This sounded… too good to be true. And from Bobby's experience, things that sound too good to be true often were. He could be leading a lot of hunters into a trap. It all depended on whether or not he trusted Sam Winchester.

"I can help you make some calls," Sam prompted, "We don’t have much time."

Mike was flipping out. Not that Dean was blaming him, but still.

Dean was sitting with his back against the wall, even though it still hurt to sit like that. Maybe because it still hurt to sit like that. He had one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, with his elbow resting on it. A bottle of water dangled precariously from the tips of his fingers.

Little Jesse was asleep, curled by Dean's side. Dean had made him drink as much as he could, hoping it would be easier on the kid. He'd been drinking a lot himself, not that it helped much, and others had started doing the same.

Mike and Omar were desperately kicking at the door. Dean took another small sip of the drugged water as he watched them work. He was probably going to Hell for this - for not helping out, for not even trying to help out. He deserved it, too. Everyone else was probably thinking the same thing.

Dean's eyes swept across the large, dark room. Not much time left now, if those demons were going to keep consistent. His eyes went back to the bottle in his hand.

He'd blessed the water, blessed all the bottles, and did it again every time they got new ones. He wasn’t that cruel. Some people still had a reason to fight, still wanted to live. He wasn’t going to leave them weaponless, not if he could help it.

Jesse whimpered in his sleep and Dean pulled him closer. He really wished the kid would make it, even if no one else did. Thought about how ironic it would have been if the kid was his. Father and son, both dying at the hands of demons. Three generations actually. Dad would have been proud. The thought brought a bitter grin to Dean's lips. A few more hours, and the Winchesters would be no more.

TBC

Previously: Where it all started >> 2 >> 3 >> 4 >> 5 >> 6 >> 7 >> 8 >> 9a >> 9b >> 10 >> 11 >> 12 >> 13