Picking Up Where We Left Off (Gen, 12/13)
Aug. 7th, 2008 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sams1raDisclaimer: 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: 4030
Spoilers: For all episodes aired in the US. This story is mostly AU for season 3, but some characters and events will be mentioned. NO spoilers for season 4, please do not spoil me. Thanks!
Comments: Feed my muse ;)
A/N: Much love and cookies to the awesomeness that is my beta
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tru_faith_lost , who helps making this story better. All remaining mistakes are mine. Son of A/N: No, this is not a deathfic.
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 Twelve
Sam was leaning against the side of a store, staring at the old factory across the street, his arms crossed over his chest.
"This is good," Ruby said as she walked past him for the tenth time, pacing back and forth. "Sort of a test run. I like it," she said and kept pacing.
Sam ignored her. He looked up and down the street again. The street lamps were just starting to light up, the sky a mix of pink, orange and purple. People were still out and about, going about their business. Sam turned his attention back to the factory.
It was surrounded by yellow tape and warning signs. The building was condemned, scheduled for destruction. Sam found it fitting, considering what he was willing to do to save his brother.
"I mean, if this works, I'm sure we can get many more to join your army. And then," Ruby grinned, "you can kick Lillith's ass and become who you were always meant to…"
"Shut up, Ruby," Sam sighed. Ruby glared at him. "How can I tell if he's really in there?" Sam asked.
"I don’t know. Can't you… feel him or something?" Ruby shrugged and finally stopped pacing, coming to stand next to Sam. Sam looked pointedly at her. Ruby shrugged. "So, how you want to do this?" She asked.
Sam looked back at the factory and let out a deep breath. He looked at his watch. Bobby and the others would get there after dark, if they got there at all. This was it. Time to see if he really was as powerful as demons kept telling him he was.
"Sam?" Ruby called out to him. "How do you want to do this?" She repeated her question. Sam kept ignoring her. She didn’t matter, not anymore. She'd taught him a lot. Probably more than she even realized. The rest he could figure out by himself.
Pushing himself away from the wall, Sam crossed the street and kept on walking. There was a large yard around the old factory with plenty of parking space – some of it occupied. A tall fence surrounded the yard, locked with a heavy chain. Sam yanked at the lock, just trying his luck, but it wouldn’t budge. A deep breath, a moment of concentration, and the lock was open and on the ground. It was faster than picking it, Sam had to give it that.
He pushed the gate open and entered the yard, walking up to the security booth at the entrance. The guard was watching TV with his feet in the air, eating an apple. He didn’t even spare Sam a glance. "You shouldn’t be here," he said. "It's private property."
"Actually, it's not. The place belongs to the city," Sam said. That earned him a glare from the guard. He got to his feet, tossing what was left of his apple in the trash.
"Either way, no one's getting in there," the guard said, "Didn’t you read the signs? The place is falling apart. I'm not letting you inside."
"But you're not going to stop me," Sam said simply. The guard opened his mouth to say something, then frowned. He looked away, and then back at Sam, who was already making his way to the entrance. "Hey!" The guard called after him. "You can't get in there!"
"Watch me," Sam called back to him.
The guard pulled a gun from a holster at his hip. "I'm warning you. You take one more step, I'm going to have to shoot."
Sam stopped, turned around slowly, his arms in the air. "Come on," he said. "You're not really going to shoot me. You're just going to leave, and that way everyone will be happy, right?"
The guard loaded his weapon, and yelped as it was snatched from his hands by an invisible force. "Hey!" He called after Sam, who was already walking away. "Hey, stop!" But Sam didn’t. Well, at least not until his face hit the stone wall. The next thing he knew, the guard was right behind him. "That was a big mistake, kid," the guard grunted. Sam could see his eyes now, the tar black that was pooling in them.
"Oh, good, the welcoming committee," Sam gritted through his teeth. He took a deep breath and turned his head a little so he could see the guard better. "Let me in, take me to my brother, and I might spare you."
The guard laughed. A moment later he screamed, and black smoke rushed out of his mouth and nose. Sam turned around slowly and looked at the knife in his hand. He smirked.
Sam didn’t bother looking up when he heard the nearing footsteps.
"So we going in, or what?" Ruby asked, sounding a little bit bored. Sam looked over her shoulder at the dark mass of incorporeal demon swarming his way. There were enough of them to fuzz up the electricity of an entire city block and blot out the remaining rays of the setting sun. The massive cloud of demons hovered by the gate, awaiting Sam's okay. He gave a slight nod.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we're going in." And with a gesture of his hand, he blew the doors to the factory wide open.
"He's just a little boy," Annie sniffed and sat down next to Dean. "What did he ever to do them? What did any of us ever do to them?" She whispered, tears falling from her eyes.
"I don’t know," Dean said in a small voice. "I don’t think it matters."
Annie turned her eyes to Mike and Omar, who were still working on the door. It'd been hours, and if anything, they had just gotten more furious. Ben was with them now, still sore, but armed with all the water bottles he could carry. At least they were listening. They didn’t understand, they didn't even try to. All they cared about was that Dean had hurt one of the bad guys with water, that Dean had told them it was a weapon of sorts. That there was still something for them to cling to, a morsel of hope.
Jesse tossed and turned in his sleep, and Dean pulled him closer. The little boy whimpered at the contact, but soon his breathing evened out. Dean brushed stray hairs from the kid's brow, watching him sleep. The coagulated blood on the child's shirt was another testimony of Dean's failure. The boy trusted him, and Dean had failed him.
Annie put her hand gently on Dean's shoulder. "You tried," she said.
"Not hard enough," Dean snapped back. "Not when it mattered."
"We're all going to die here, aren’t we?" Annie asked, her eyes on Jesse. Dean looked at her, and then lowered his eyes, nodded once. She let out a whimper and started sobbing quietly, burying her head in Dean's shoulder.
Dean hoped her crying wouldn’t wake Jesse up. It wasn’t easy getting Jesse to sleep in the first place. He had been hungry and terrified and wouldn’t stop crying. He'd clung to Dean and refused to be held by anyone else. Dean did everything he could think of to help the kid, but there just wasn’t anything he could do, not really.
He'd talked to Jesse, and Jesse listened. Dean promised he would do everything in his power to protect him. He told Jesse he was a brave little boy. He told him that the bad people were afraid of the funny tasting water, that if he squirted them with water, it could buy him some time to run away. Dean didn’t have to explain that something bad was coming. Children know these things, even if grown ups try to shield them. Jesse seemed to take it all in stride, and Dean was so proud of him.
Dean tore his gaze from the sleeping child at the sound of Mike's yelp.
The doors opened.
This was it; the last act. The fat lady was warming up her vocal cords.
It wouldn't be long now, Dean thought to himself as he shook Jesse awake and the both of them got to their feet. Annie stiffened next to them, her eyes wide with fear.
The room fell into silence as the people in it all seemed to freeze. There was a feeling in the air, very much like the one that you can feel just before the storm breaks.
And then Omar let out a cry and tried to make a break for it. He ended up flying across the room and landing in a heap on the floor. That seemed to break the spell that kept everyone quiet and still. People all over started screaming, running this way and that.
Ben finally remembered the holy water and sprayed an entire gallon of water at anyone who was close enough to the entryway. It didn’t help much. Sure, the first few were momentarily stopped, but there were others, many others, and that little trick just pissed them off. The screams only got louder when one of the demons started beating Ben into a pulp.
Dean put himself between Jesse and the demons, hiding the small boy behind him. He was surprisingly calm, considering his heart was racing in his chest. He tried his best to ignore the screams, to ignore everyone else in the room. He couldn’t save them, he knew that, but maybe, just maybe, he could still save Jesse.
Dean looked away as Mike's throat was cut, blood flying everywhere. "Don’t look, kiddo, okay? Close your eyes until I tell you to open them," he whispered. "I'll do everything I can to get you out of here, runt, I promise."
Jesse looked up at him with trust in his eyes and nodded, before squeezing his eyes close and grabbing onto Dean's hand. Dean spared just one more look at him, before looking back at the demons coming into the room, and braced himself.
Soon, Sammy. I'll see you soon.
It was surprising, really. What it took to make your very own, demon killing ginzu. Sam sure thought it would be a lot harder. Well, live and learn. That's what people say, anyway.
He spent hours working on that knife. It was a lot easier when you had someone like Ruby to show you the ropes, but it still wasn’t quite the walk in the park. He'd chosen his favorite knife; a curved blade that fit into his hand perfectly. It had been a gift from Pastor Jim, one he'd given Sam when Sam told him the news about Stanford, seeking advice on how to break it to his family.
He'd taken that knife with him to Stanford, taken it with him on that hunt in Jericho, its weight feeling right in Sam's hand. It was one of the very few things left after the fire. A blessed blade, forged in blood and fire - just what the recipe required. Well, okay, so it wasn’t actually forged in blood and fire, but there was a fire and it'd seen a lot of blood. Sam hoped it wouldn’t ruin the mojo.
He was worried, too, about the time factor. He simply didn’t have the time to perfect the knife, go over everything one more time, make sure there were no mistakes. He was nervous about that, anxious that it might not work.
Apparently, he had nothing to worry about. The knife sliced through demon and host as if they were butter. It was actually a rush, using the knife he'd fashioned. It felt better than using the Colt, gave him a thrill no other weapon ever had.
Sam shoved the dead meatsuit out of his way, smiling in satisfaction as her warm blood washed over his hand, and pushed on. He didn’t think of the young woman who previously owned said meatsuit and was now lying on the grimy floor, gasping and bleeding to death. He didn’t think of the blood covering his hands – the woman's blood as well as that of others. He didn’t think of any of the hosts he'd killed, or let others kill. He didn’t stop to think that maybe there was another way to do this.
He only thought of one thing.
Getting to Dean in time.
Jesse's breath hitched when the screaming became louder and he grabbed tightly onto Dean's arm, eyes still squeezed shut. Dean could feel him shaking in fear. It frustrated him that there was nothing he could do about it. Well, actually, there was one thing, one chance. Dean only prayed it would work.
Turning around, Dean crouched, bringing himself to eye level with the terrified five-year-old. He asked Jesse to look at him and handed him a small bottle of holy water. "Now Jesse, remember what I said, okay?" Dean asked the kid, his hand on the boy's shoulder, his voice calm and authoritative. "The water hurts the bad people, so if they get in your way, squirt them and keep on running. You understand?" Dean asked again, making sure.
The boy nodded. He was gasping, trying his hardest to be brave and not cry. "Okay," Dean said and got to his feet, giving Jesse's shoulder a little squeeze. "You keep to the shadows. Be very, very quiet, and run as fast as you can, okay?" The boy nodded again and Dean smiled at him. "Good boy," he praised, and then turned his attention back to the chaos in the room.
People were running, trying to hide behind the crates, in the shadows, anywhere they could think of. It didn’t do them much good. No one was killed yet; no one but Mike, that is. The demons seemed to be rounding everyone up. Other demons seemed busy drawing sigils on the walls and floor, chanting as they did. This wasn’t some mindless slaughter, this was a ritual, and that was never a good thing.
Dean slowly made his way to the entrance, keeping himself between Jesse and everything else. Jesse kept to the shadows like he'd been told. Dean did everything he could not to draw attention to them, and so far it was working. In all the mayhem and the screams, it was working. For a while, at least.
Dean sucked in his breath when he recognized Dumah in the entryway. He clenched and unclenched his jaw in anger at the sight of the satisfied smile on her face. Tightening his hands into fists, Dean made a decision.
He might not live to see tomorrow, but neither would she.
"Hey, bitch," Dean cried, and held Dumah's gaze when she turned to look his way. A few long strides brought him face to face with the demon that had his brother killed. "I didn’t get the chance to do this before," Dean's voice dripping with venom. "Thought I'd give you the Winchester patented demon handshake," he said and then emptied his water bottle in her face and punched her as hard as he could.
It didn’t take her long to recover, but her shriek and flinch were totally worth it. Dumah twitched her head in a funny angle and narrowed tar-like eyes at him. Lightning quick, her hand wrapped around his throat, and had she been a little taller, she would have been able to lift him off his feet. "Why, Dean," she started, and then spat on the floor. She licked blood from where her teeth had cut her lip. "How nice of you to give up your soul so easily."
Dean glared daggers at her and tried for a smart-aleck remark, but it was a little bit challenging, what with his vocal cords being crushed and all.
It was then that he made a mistake. It only took a fraction of a second; his eyes flickered over to Jesse, to make sure he was alright, that he was still alive. But Dumah caught his glimpse. A smug smile tugged at her lips as she turned her head slowly and saw the boy.
"Why, Dean, aren’t you helpful today." She smirked at him. "The little one could have escaped, if it weren’t for you," she said as Dean tried his best to pry her fingers loose from his throat. And then her grip tightened, and the world became a little fuzzy, stars bursting in front of his eyes. Dean gasped for breath.
"You know, you are quite famous," Dumah said casually. "I mean, you know how it is. People talk," she shrugged. "And they sure do like talking about you Winchester boys," she sighed. "But I gotta tell you, I am a little underwhelmed," she noted, and then shrugged again. "Oh, well."
With the last of his strength, Dean kicked her in the crotch as hard as he could. Yes, she wasn’t in a man's body, but Dean figured it could at least loosen her grip a little bit.
It did a little more than that, actually. Apparently, girls didn’t like getting kicked there, either.
"Jesse, run!" Dean croaked from where Dumah dropped him on the floor, and then coughed and repeated it as loud as he could. A moment later, he was yanked back to his feet by the furious demon.
"You know, I was going to go easy on him. Not much blood in him anyway, I was going to make it quick for him," she growled. "But that little trick? That's going to cost you. The both of you."
"Don’t you touch him," Dean spat. "Don’t you freakin' dare!"
Dumah raised a brow. "Oh, don’t worry. You'll get front row seats."
"Over my dead body," Dean retorted. Dumah sighed and gave a slight nod.
"Well, that can be arranged, too," she said, and before Dean realized what was happening, she drove a large, sharp dagger into his gut.
Dean gasped, his eyes widening in surprise as the pain shot through him. He reached instinctively to the small of his back, where he always kept his gun, but the gun wasn’t there. So he went with his next best option. He punched her as hard as he could in the face. He forgot about the kickback, though. The punch jarred something inside him and he hissed in pain.
He didn’t have much time to realize the demon was coming at him again. Couldn’t really have done much to defend himself if he had. She stabbed him again, harder this time, deeper, shoving the knife in an upward motion and slicing easily through flesh and sinew.
Dean let out a scream without even being aware of doing it. For a moment, he thought he might have seen Sam over the demon's shoulder. His eyes tried to focus on the image of his dead brother, before Dumah pushed him away and Dean collapsed to the ground, seeing no more.
Sam sliced into another demon, relishing the sight of the lightning that lit the body from the inside as the demon and its host died. He used the Colt on another, because there were just too damn many of them, and there wasn’t enough time.
They were trying to lure him someplace, which meant they were trying to lure him away from someplace else. They did everything they could to get in his way. But he wasn’t little Sammy Winchester anymore, and he had left a trail of blood and dead bodies to prove it. He'd deal with his conscience, if and when he had to. Now was not the time.
He used his newfound powers to part the tide of demons blocking his way, crushing them against the walls and leaving them for his army to deal with. He never once looked back. All he cared about was DeanDeanDean.
He could feel him now, feel his brother, like a beacon calling out to him. There was only the door standing between them now, and with a little burst of energy, there wasn’t even that.
"Dean," Sam hollered as he entered the room he'd seen via Ruby's magic, his eyes searching for his brother. And then he found him – eyes wide with pain and surprise as a demon thrust her knife into him, twisted, and pulled it up. "Dean!" Sam screamed, and with a blast of energy, cleared his way of people and demons.
Something darted past him, something small, something insignificant, and so Sam ignored it. Ignored everything. Everything but the demon yanking her knife out of Dean's chest and pushing him back, letting him fall to the ground like a marionette with its stings cut.
He was by the demon's side in a blink of an eye, wielding his own bloody blade, and cut her throat.
There was no thrill in it this time. No tingle at the sound of her startled cry, the sight of her shocked expression, the lightning that signaled her death. There was no satisfaction in killing her, only mind-numbing pain.
Too late.
He had been too late.
Sam dropped to his knees by Dean's side, his lips quivering as he fought to keep from bursting into tears. With shaking hands, he reached for his brother, and gently, reverently lifted him in his arms. "No," he whispered in a trembling voice. Tears spilled from his eyes as he looked at his brother's glazed, dead eyes.
"No. Dean…" Sam whispered brokenly, burying his head in his brother's shoulder. But Dean remained limp, motionless.
"NO!" Sam screamed, tilting his head back. His face was distorted in grief as he let out a cry. "No, Dean, please… Please, God, no," Sam cried. He shook Dean's body, trying to get any sort of reaction, but all he got was more blood on his hands. His brother's blood. It was everywhere, staining his hands, his pants, creating a pool on the floor.
"No! Dean! You can't do this. You can't do this! I won't let you!" Sam yelled. "You hear me? I won't let you!" Tears fell from Sam's chin and onto Dean's forehead, but Dean didn’t move to swipe at them. Didn’t tease Sam about crying. Didn’t call him a big, ugly girl. Dean was dead.
Dean was dead.
"You still have three months, you stupid jerk!" Sam cried, "You promised!" He shook Dean again. "You always keep your promises. That's what big brothers do, remember? That's your job. You're my big brother." Sam's voice broke.
He ignored the screaming around him, ignored the demons and his army and all the blood that was painting the room red. None of it mattered. It was all white noise. The only thing that mattered was Dean.
And Dean was dead.
And like hell Sam was going to make that stop him.
With renewed determination, Sam put both his hands on Dean's gut, trying to hold the wound closed. "You are not going to die, you hear me?" He muttered, "Not on my watch."
Sam concentrated as hard as he could, the way Ruby had taught him. He focused all his energy and blocked the pain that immediately started building behind his eyes, getting stronger and stronger by the second. The pain was irrelevant. He had to focus.
But he couldn’t clear his mind. He had to; he had to clear his mind, because he couldn’t let Dean die. Not now, not after everything they had given up to get here. He couldn’t let Dean die. He wouldn’t…
A scream reverberated through the room, and it took Sam a while to realize it was him doing the screaming. The pressure in his head was threatening to make his head implode, but Sam wouldn’t stop.
He pushed further and further into himself, ignoring the pain, feeling his brother slipping away instead of getting closer. He screamed in grief, frustration, and desperation, and sent every bit of power he had into Dean.
It hurt like hell, using all that power, but Sam didn’t care. He never noticed his nose bleeding, never noticed his vision tunneling. The only thing he did notice was a band of white hot pain tightening inside his mind.
Sam tried to hold on for as long as he could, but the pain was just too much.
And then he let go.
Tbc
Previously: Where it all started >> 2 >> 3 >> 4 >> 5 >> 6 >> 7 >> 8 >> 9a >> 9b >> 10 >> 11 >> 12 >> 13
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 08:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 01:53 pm (UTC)*puppy to the rescue!*
Thanks for reading.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 08:31 pm (UTC)great job with this series. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 01:54 pm (UTC)Last part will be up by Tuesday, hope that's gonna keep you alive ;)
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 09:26 pm (UTC)Yay for the scythe-knife! Wish they'd use it in the show!
And then? And then?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 01:56 pm (UTC)More coming up soon.
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 10:24 pm (UTC)You're evil, Cliffie McClifferton.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 01:58 pm (UTC)You're just finding this out now? XD
Glad you're enjoying this. Next part will be up by Tuesday.
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 03:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 10:44 pm (UTC)HEY!! Where did the rest of the story go??
Loved it, and love the series. :)
MORE!!! ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 01:59 pm (UTC)Here it is! lol
Glad you're enjoying the story (and the popcorn XD)
Next part will be up soon. Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 10:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 02:06 pm (UTC)Last chapter will be up by Tuesday, I hope that's soon enough ;)
Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 11:13 pm (UTC)Nicely done, hope both boys are gonna been okay..
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 02:08 pm (UTC)And don't worry, this story has a happy(ish) ending.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-07 11:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 02:08 pm (UTC)Enjoy the cookies, you've earned them! *gives you more cookies and M&Ms*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 07:40 am (UTC)also, let's all kick lj for not giving me alerts on stories lately. it's making me mad!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 02:10 pm (UTC)Why, yes, yes I am. What gave me away? XD
I totally agree about the LJ alerts thing. It's driving me up the wall sometimes... *sigh*
Will it help if I tell you next chapter will be up by Tuesday?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 02:19 am (UTC)*coughs*
I meant to say, yes it would help ever so much. Thank you for the heads up.
*bounces off*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 08:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-08 02:11 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 10:55 am (UTC)You're welcome, can't wait for the next instalment :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 09:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 09:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 11:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 10:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 09:08 am (UTC);)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 08:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-11 02:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-12 01:30 am (UTC)it was so good
you did not just kill both of them did you?
*prays they are alive*
sammy was badass in this chapter
great writing
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-12 04:01 am (UTC)No, this isn't a deathfic (unless you count OCs...) The boys will live =)
Next chapter should be up tonight (tomorrow for you, I believe)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-24 02:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-24 01:36 pm (UTC)Well, if it's any comfort, I hinted to killing Sam, too... *hides*
Glad you enjoyed the chapter otherwise, and you know I can't really kill Dean, right? Sam, I have no problem killing, but never Dean. ;)