Battleships - a gift for broompeople (2/2)

[amberdreams]

Back to Part 1

Battleships Part 2

0x0x0x0

They set out early the following morning.  Sam thought neither of them had gotten much sleep, but that was nothing new.  The drive into the desert was uncharacteristically quiet.  Dean didn’t switch on either the radio or cassette, which was a little odd but not unheard of. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel, as if he had music playing inside his head.  Sam stared out of the dusty window in irritation, then looked back at Dean’s hands.

“Where’s your ring?”  he asked, breaking the silence of the last hour and making Dean start.  Sam watched Dean’s expression flicker from surprise to calculation to open and honest, so quickly he could almost have missed the changes if suspicion hadn’t sharpened his attention again.

“It got bent out of shape somehow. I need to see about fixing it.” Dean patted his jacket. “It’s in my pocket.”

Sam shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “So how far into the desert are we going then?”

Dean threw a crumpled, stained road map into Sam’s lap.  “We’re looking for a turn off near where the I-70 and the US-50 meet – coming right up, in fact.”  Dean swung the Impala off the Interstate, negotiated the junction and found the minor road that would take them even farther off the beaten track.

Sam looked at the map in disbelief.  “Devil’s Canyon Road, Dean?  Seriously?”

Dean just grinned, too wide.  “It’s called irony, Sammy.”

0x0x0x0

Dean was tired of running.  Leraye followed him wherever he went inside his head, never letting up.  Even though he knew it wasn’t real, it was getting annoying.  He couldn’t think. How could he try and find a way out of this with the demon constantly on his back, not allowing him a single moment of privacy?

“The demon knife won’t do you any good, Deano, I’m much to strong for that little pig-sticker…”

Fuck

“Remember how Alastair just pulled it right out of his chest when you stabbed him?”

off

“You can’t do anything, Dean, you are too weak, too pathetic…”

Shut

“I control you, you are just a slave to my will, just like in Hell…”

UP!!

His footsteps sounded hollow in the sudden silence.  He stopped and looked down.  Under his feet were worn wooden boards, the gaps between them shimmering with mellow sunlight reflecting off the water beneath.  He gazed around in shock.  He recognised this place.  It was an old memory, a good one.  A few short days of calm when Dad had actually taken a break between hunts, and taken the boys fishing instead of putting them through more training. Kincaid Lake in Illinois, if he remembered right.  In front of him stretched the smooth surface of the lake, the far shore edged with trees whose autumnal glory was fading into a soft mist.  He was standing on a short jetty, stretching out over the water, a bait box and rod abandoned at his feet. 

And he was alone.

“Dad?” He whispered, suddenly, illogically hopeful.

0x0x0x0

Dean finally stopped the car where the asphalt of the Devil’s Canyon road ran out and its surface changed to packed dirt.  Calling it a road from then on was something of an exaggeration. It was more like a track, and so rough in parts Sam was wincing on the Impala’s behalf as Dean gunned her engine and powered over the potholes.  If nothing else had made him think there was something badly wrong with his big brother, this careless treatment of Dean’s baby would have confirmed it. 

The two men got out of the car and looked around at the nothingness of sandstone rocks and scrub bush that stretched for miles.  The air was so hot and dry Sam could feel it leaching the moisture from each breath.  The sweat that trickled down his back between his shoulder blades was drying up before it reached the base of his spine.  In spite of the heat, Sam shivered.

Sam thought about Ruby’s knife, tucked away in the Impala’s trunk, then dismissed the idea.  If this was a demon inside of his brother, the knife would kill both demon and Dean, and Sam couldn’t live with that.  And there was the blood.  If it was demon possession and Sam made Dean bleed…even the thought of it had his heart beating faster and his mouth watering in anticipation.  His fists clenched against the humming in his veins at the remembered heavy taste on his tongue, the incredible buzz he’d felt as he’d swallowed Ruby’s blood down.  

No.  The demon knife was out of the question.  There was another way, though he knew Dean would be angry if he found out.   Ruby had given him a parting gift after Alastair.  He thought about the flask hidden in his duffel, his palms itching.

Still, that might not be necessary; he wasn’t even sure what was wrong with his brother yet.  Maybe this was a shifter who couldn’t stand the touch of the silver in Dean’s ring.  Perhaps it was a ghost possession, or some kind of spell. He wished he’d thought to try spiking Dean’s drink with holy water earlier, cursed the missed opportunities.

“Gotta take a leak.  Back in a bit.” Dean said, and Sam watched silently as whatever was riding his brother strode off behind some rocks and out of sight.  Well, that made things easier.  Sam opened the trunk and started looking for something, anything, that might work to trap this creature.  And if he took a swig or two from Ruby’s flask, who could blame him?  He had to be prepared for every eventuality, after all.

0x0x0x0

“This is not a dream, is it?”

Dean’s heart jumped at the sound of John Winchester’s voice.  He whirled around, his heart leaping in his chest, forgetting for a moment he was standing on a narrow platform.  He teetered briefly on the edge before his father grabbed his lapels and steadied him.  His own hands were fisted tight into Dad’s (his) leather jacket and he had to consciously relax his fingers to let go.

“Dad!  You heard me.  Thank fuck.”  John opened his mouth but Dean steamrollered on before his Dad could say anything to shatter his illusion.  He knew this vision, dream, whatever the fuck it was, wasn’t real, but… it was Dad.  So even though he was probably talking to himself, he carried on.

“Not a dream, not exactly, but you are in my head. I’m possessed.  A demon tore up my tat and jumped down my throat and Sammy’s out there alone with it and I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t even speak, I can’t warn him.”

“Dean.” John held up a hand and Dean shut up, teeth clenched over the words that threatened to keep gushing out.

“Do you know where you are?  Physically, I mean.” 

“I…fuck.  No.  I don’t even know how long it’s been since Leraye jumped me. He’s blocking me from seeing what is going on, except when it suits him.”

“The Grand Marquis of Hell is possessing you?”

Dean nodded, not liking the expression on John’s face.  He didn’t question how John Winchester could know about the bizarre aristocratic hierarchies of Hell; having inherited his father’s rack for thirty years, the answer to that was obvious.  “Yes. So.  Can you help get him out of my body or not?”

John shook his head and Dean nearly groaned.  “I’m not strong enough to take on Leraye.  You know I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

“Goddammit Dad, there must be something you can do!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy!’  Dean swallowed, found himself reacting exactly as he used to when he was fourteen, and flushed slightly with embarrassment.  “I can help you keep your soul intact, and I can fortify this place you’ve created so you can hide in here and stay safe until help comes.”

“Help?  What help?  Nobody knows where we are, not even Cas.”

John looked momentarily uncertain and Dean almost rolled his eyes, Sam-like.  He didn’t, because he remembered that he didn’t actually have eyes at the moment, that his real eyes were being used (and abused) by a fucking demon.  And because years of training still constrained his behaviours around his father, though he’d never admit it.  And even when his father was imaginary.  Boy, did he have issues.

“I don’t do hiding, Dad.  I can’t “stay safe” while that bastard is doing who knows what to Sam.”

“I doubt that the demons will harm Sam.  You on the other hand, are fair game.”

“What about Lilith?  She will kill Sam when he finds her.  She isn’t going to care what plans Azazel had for his boy king, all she wants is to kick start the Apocalypse.”

“Lilith is a problem, yes.  But I can’t come with you if you leave here, Dean.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know.” Dean sighed.  “But I have to go.”

John nodded and stepped in close.  Dean tensed involuntarily then relaxed into the hug.  If there was a tear in his non-existent eye when he broke away and strode off the jetty, nobody had to know but him.

0x0x0x0

eraye was getting progressively more irritated. The inside of Dean Winchester’s head was a confused mess, and yet the human’s fragile psyche was somehow defying the demon at every turn.  In fact, right now, the demon lord had lost sight of the last vestige of Dean’s personality that it had been bludgeoning into submission for its amusement.  It shouldn’t be possible for such a pathetic specimen to evade a powerful demon like this, yet somehow, Dean Winchester had found a place to hide.

Leraye wanted to carve up the older Winchester metaphorically, to relish the way the scars it had left on the righteous man’s pretty body in Hell would be perfectly mirrored in the bleeding core of the man.   But it seemed that Winchester wasn’t going to play the demon’s games any more, and that made the Marquis of Hell very angry.  So angry Leraye was having difficulty not showing its frustration on its stolen face.  Keeping straight what was happening on the inside its meat-suit with what was happening on the outside was proving harder than Leraye remembered from its last foray topside.  Which admittedly was for more earth years than it cared to recall, let alone the total Hell-time.  The Marquis of Hell’s last stint walking among humanity might have involved working alongside Pestilence, following some flea-ridden rats from the Far East to watch them decimate Europe.  Fun times.

While the demon was still as proud as the Deadly Sin to have been given this task directly by Lucifer himself, Leraye was beginning to wonder if the aggravation was worth it.  Time to find out what exactly their Lord and Master wanted.  Hidden from Sam’s sight behind the sandstone outcrop, Leraye watched with satisfaction as Dean’s blood flowed into the scrying cup.  It said the incantation over the thickening liquid, swirling it with Dean’s finger.  How handy to have everything required for a connect call to Hell contained in one meat suit, he mused.  The wound in Dean’s arm sealed shut, the new scar raw and pleasingly ugly on the Heaven-fresh skin.

“I want Dean Winchester broken into pieces in front of his brother’s eyes,” Lucifer whispered through the bars of his cage.  “And I want you to do it for me, my Marquis. You are the only one I can trust to get this right.  Do it alone; prove yourself to me. Show me you are more deserving than my first born…”

Leraye wasn’t stupid.  You don’t get to rise to his rank in Hell by being a gullible, impressionable child, but the demon couldn’t help its ridiculous delight at Lucifer’s praise.  His Lord trusted him over Lilith, over all his demons.  Leraye schooled Dean’s features into some semblance of insouciance, its Lord’s words still warming its ego, as it swaggered round the rocks on the way back to re-join Sam and the Impala.

Where Leraye’s day was made less than perfect by finding that thinking about one Winchester had been allowed to distract from maintaining its wariness of the other.  The demon looked down at Dean’s feet in disgust.  It had stepped right into a hastily but perfectly drawn devil’s trap.  Sam had clearly not been fooled by Leraye’s impersonation of his brother, and had spent the time the demon had taken to confirm its instructions to construct this snare.

Fucking Winchesters.

Ah well.  I guess it’s show time. Leraye sighed silently, but kept disgruntlement on the inside.

The demon flung out Dean’s arms, smiling.

“Sammy!  You’ve come a little bit late to the party here, haven’t you?  Makes me wonder what Azazel ever saw in you, really it does.”

“Spare me the demon monologuing, I’ve heard it all before.”  Sam retorted.  Leraye felt like rolling Dean’ eyes at the repetition.  Did these Winchesters not have any original thoughts in their empty little heads?

“Mmm, maybe so,” Leraye said, amusement colouring his voice.   “But I doubt they’ve told you these home truths in your brother’s voice before, have they.”

Sam’s frown deepened but he said nothing.  Time to up the ante, Leraye thought.

“Think of it like a game of Battleships, Sam.  Except you know your ship is on this square.  So, ask yourself.  Do you want to risk blowing your brother to smithereens?  Is it worth the risk, even if you’ve got the strength, just to exorcise little old me?”

The grin widened, stretching Dean’s lips over his teeth, at the stricken look on Sam’s face.

You shouldn’t have done that, a voice whispered.  You don’t want to piss Sam off.  The voice didn’t sound triumphant, or satisfied; just matter of fact, with an undercurrent of something familiar.  Leraye only had a startled second to realise two things.  Dean was back inside his own head again, and Dean was …scared. 

And during that second of distraction, Sam Winchester’s expression had changed.  Now he looked dangerous in a way that no mere human should look, and Leraye felt a chill spread through his borrowed body.  The demon could no longer distinguish its own fear from Dean’s dread as it stared into the twin abysses that had taken the place of Sam Winchester’s eyes.

Sam was talking.

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t fucking care what you have to say, but I’m sure you know what I did to Alastair, don’t you?  Why would I bother sending you back to Hell, when I can snuff you out like a candle?”

am stretched out his arm, palm facing the demon.

No no no no nononono…

Leraye didn’t know if it was its demon self or human host keeping up the litany of denial that was pouring out of Dean’s lips; perhaps it didn’t matter any more.

Sam had taken hold of Leraye’s very essence and was searing it into oblivion.  The Marquis of Hell thought it had a chance of fighting back, had thought the Winchesters were weak.  It was wrong.  Wherever the demon turned inside Dean’s head, there was pain.  It had been a long time since Leraye had felt anything like this.  For so many centuries it had worked its way up the food chain until the suffering it had felt as a new soul in the pit had become a distant memory; but now it burned and the agony was unbearable.  Almost worse than the pain of dying was the knowledge that came to Leraye just before oblivion – Lucifer had known.  The Lord of Light had sent it here, not to test Leraye’s loyalty or skill, but to test Sam Winchester and make him stronger. It wasn’t Dean Winchester who was on the doomed battleship’s square, it was Leraye.

It was a moment of revelation Leraye could have done without, a layer of bitterness that would accompany the demon as it descended into the eternal darkness.  The only consolation was feeling how much Dean Winchester was suffering alongside the demon under his brother’s hand.

0x0x0x0

Sam’s power chased the demon out of his body with a fire so cold that it burned and Dean wasn’t sure but he thought he was being chased out too.  He might have been able to hear Leraye screaming, but it could be that he was screaming so loud himself he was drowning it out. It’s wrong… wrong…wrong.  Sammy’s eyes were too dark, his fingers like claws as he squeezed, and the breath left Dean’s lungs as if those fingers were literally inside his chest, gripped tight around the spongy organs, wringing every last atom of air from them.

In some ways it was easier for Dean to think that might be true, that it was those competent hands that had stitched him up more times than he could count that were doing the damage, rather than face the terrifying knowledge that Sam was doing all of this simply with the power of his demon-enhanced mind.  There was a part of Dean that wanted to run and just keep on running and never, ever stop so he didn’t have to face that fact.

What had the angels called Sam? Abomination.  If running away from that made him a coward, well fuck them.  This was his little brother, and he didn’t want to think about what this meant. 

Dean felt it when the last remnants of Leraye were scorched out of his body, and he wanted to tell Sam it’s okay, you can stop now, but he couldn’t speak.  All his words seemed to have disappeared, burned up along with the demon, and Sam’s magic hand or whatever the fuck it was kept on scouring out his insides with that burning ice until there was nowhere left for Dean to hide except one place.

So Dean found himself back on that jetty on Kincaid Lake.  Empty and alone, but no longer in pain.

He sat on the edge, let his legs dangle over the quiet waters and waited.

oxoxoxo

Sam watched Dean light up on the inside like a lava lamp and felt nothing but a sense of satisfaction at the heady flare of power that was flowing through him into Dean.  Even when he felt the demon in Dean die, he didn’t stop.  He didn’t want that feeling to end.  The rush was like nothing else; not an adrenaline high; not that time someone had slipped him uppers in college; not getting his Stanford acceptance letter – nothing compared to this.

Blood ran in a thin trickle from the corners of Dean’s wide eyes, and more from his ears.  He was struggling to speak, but Sam only stopped when his brother’s eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites were showing.  Sam’s hand was suddenly trembling and the muscles in his outstretched arm cramped viciously as the roaring pressure snapped back into him as if on a bungee. 

Dean’s legs buckled and his body crumpled to the floor as though only Sam’s power had been holding him upright – and maybe that was true, Sam didn’t know any more.  Sam leapt forward too late to catch his brother, and he winced as Dean’s head hit the rocky ground with an audible crack that seemed insignificant in the face of the harm Sam had just inflicted.  Guilt swept over Sam in a crippling wave. 

What had he done?

“Dean!”

He wormed an arm under Dean’s head, lifted the heavy, lax body off the dirt.  In spite of the desert heat reflecting up of the sandy rock Dean’s skin felt cold and clammy under Sam’s shaking fingers.  Dean’s pulse was thin and thready and Sam could barely feel it over the thick strong loud pounding of his own. Dark red dripped down onto Dean’s pale face and Sam realised his own nose was bleeding. He wiped aimlessly at the much brighter red of Dean’s blood where it trailed across day old stubble and freckles that stood out against the white of his brother’s skin.  A headache spiked through Sam’s skull while a rising nausea brought bile up into the back of his throat.

Sam swallowed convulsively.  He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t think straight.  Every nerve in his body was fizzing as if he’d stepped right into the middle of a plasma globe, tendrils of power still sparking out of him randomly, making his muscles twitch.  He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as he held Dean close.

When Dean finally opened his eyes, Sam was worn down with anxiety and indecision. Dean’s pupils were huge and his eyes roamed randomly before finally fixing on Sam’s face.  Anxiety consumed him as he waited for Dean to say something, to judge him for using his demon powers.

“..t’fuck happ’n’d?” Dean mumbled.

Sam’s smile was as blinding as his relief was huge.  Maybe Dean didn’t remember.  Maybe he didn’t know.

“You were possessed, dude.  How’d you let that happen?”

Dean stared blankly for a second, and Sam thought he saw a glimmer of something flash through those green eyes then it was gone, and Dean was fixing a trademark grin on his still-too-pale features.

“That demon jumped me, tore up my chest, man, and stole all my gear.  That’s the last time I pick up a random chick in a BigGerson’s, I can tell you.”

Dean closed his eyes for a second, weariness in every line of his body, and then Sam felt his brother’s muscles tensing as he prepared to try and move out of Sam’s grip.  As unobtrusively as possible, Sam helped his brother to his feet.

“Come on, bitch,” Dean said, as he started to walk towards the Impala, while trying (and failing) not to lean on Sam. “Let’s get the fuck out of this godforsaken desert before my baby overheats.”

He paused at the side of the car, fumbled in his pocket for the keys, looking around at the dirt track road in disgust.

“Where the fuck are we anyway?”

“Devil’s Canyon Road,” Sam said as he caught the keys over the dusty black top of the Impala.

“Seriously?” Dean gave a huff of disbelief when Sam nodded, then grinned for real.  Something Sam hadn’t even realised was knotted up inside him loosened at seeing it.

“Yeah.  Apparently, it’s a demon joke.”

“Man, I always knew demons had no sense of humour, Sammy.  Come on, let’s get the Hell out of here.”

0x0x0x0

Dean let Sam drive, trying not to wince as the Impala bumped her way back down the dirt track and sighing in relief when they finally moved onto smooth blacktop again.  He kept his eyes closed, leaning wearily against the window, even though the lack of sight made him feel he was still trapped.  He really didn’t want to face Sam right now.

Everything hurt.  Every breath, every movement, every thought.  Every memory.

And he was mortally afraid for his little brother.

0x0x0x0
End
back to Part 1

Comments

[elliemurasaki.livejournal.com]

:(

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

I know, it's not very Christmassy is it!! Sorry!

[elliemurasaki.livejournal.com]

Why are you apologizing? Making your readers sad is kind of the point of darkfic, isn't it? You did good.

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[cassiopeia7.livejournal.com]

Oh, gosh. Poor Dean. Poor Sam. I knew there'd be no happy ending, but . . . ouch.

Still, great job racking up the tension and making me feel for Sam and Dean (and even Leraye, used as but a pawn by Lucifer. Wow, no one escaped this one intact, did they?)

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

Um, no, I guess not! But thanks anyway, for letting me torture you at this jolly time of year!

[tifaching.livejournal.com]

I loooved this. Leraye was chilling and a reminder that Alastair wasn't the only demon Dean had to deal with in hell. Dean's thoughts while possessed, Sam's realization of what was going on and John showing up in Dean's head were all so well done.

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

Thank yoooooooo! I really wasn't (am still not) happy with this one but you helped me make it halfway presentable.
I only realised after I got it back from you that I had to take that rape scene out as my recipient had specifically said they don't like non con or rape!

[broompeople.livejournal.com]

This was good. Thank you. ♥

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

It was a bit far down on your list of likes but I'm glad you thought it was ok!

[monicawoe.livejournal.com]

Deliciously dark! Especially the end where Sam almost went too far. Excellent!

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

Sam on the edge is my fave kind of Sam....