Bad Company Part Two

[eachdraidhean]

Bobby later told him it had been a matter of days after his death that he found out Dean was lying, alive, in a motel room in Maine. To Dean it had felt like months maybe even years, before the torment abruptly stopped and Sam dragged his ass out of hell. “Dean.” Sam wrapped Dean in warmth and light, soothing his shattered soul, setting his broken body on the road to recovery. His hands were firm yet gentle on Dean’s skin. “You came for me?” The words were uttered from a dry throat through cracked and sore lips. “I couldn’t leave you in there.” Dean looked up at his brother, but sunlight from the window behind him threw his face into shadow and cast an almost unearthly glow around him. Sam helped him sit up and cupped the back of his head as he held a bottle of water to Dean’s mouth and tilted it so he could drink. Dean gulped the water down, whimpering when Sam took the bottle away. “Easy Dean, it’s been a while. Take it slow or you’ll throw it back up.” Dean nodded, his stomach already objecting. “Sammy?” “Yeah?” When Dean didn’t reply, Sam looked up from where he was tending to a wound on Dean’s thigh. Dean reached for him with a shaking hand and he left what he was doing to cradle Dean in his arms. Dean shivered, burying his face in Sam’s chest. He drank in Sam’s familiar scent, brow furrowing at the faint underlying odors of sulphur and blood. “Sammy?” He pulled back to look at his brother. Sam looked down at him, and Dean’s heart almost stopped. Sam’s eyes glittered gold. Not the sickly yellow of the demon they’d hunted for what seemed like forever, but gold. “What ... what are you?” “I’m still your brother, Dean.” “No, no, you can’t be ...” “How do you think I got you out?” “How ...?” “We all have our sacrifices to make, Dean. You sold your soul for me, I became who I was meant to be for you.” Sam shrugged. “Turns out it wasn’t really a sacrifice after all.” Sam took a hold of Dean’s chin and kissed him. It took Dean’s brain moments to process what Sam had said, and he pulled back sharply, seeing a dark glitter in Sam’s eyes. Sam kept a hold of his chin and whispered in his ear. “No Dean, not a demon.” Sam grinned and his tongue flicked out over Dean’s earlobe. “So much more than a demon.” Dean pushed him away, falling back to the bed with the effort of it, his chest heaving. “Bobby should find you in a few hours. I thought you might like the time to wallow in guilt for a while.” Sam stood, and with a wink, walked towards the door. “Sammy! No ...” Without a backward glance, Sam raised his hand in a farewell salute. “Be seeing you, Dean.” Oblivion rose up and claimed Dean as Sam left. Sam strode past the Impala, not giving it a second glance. It was a reminder of his old life, a life lived in frustration and denial. Now, he didn't have to hide who he was, didn't have to feel ashamed of the demon blood coursing through his veins. In his new life, he could do anything he pleased. Lilith's followers had been easy to track. They'd been thown into disarray after she fled, and news that Sam Winchester had survived her attempt to kill him spread fast. High on a belly full of demon blood, he wasn't alone when he stormed hell to rescue Dean. They flocked to him as he wrenched open the devil's gate, tearing the doors from their hinges. Hell spewed out into the world as he strode in, and when he left, he was greeted by an expectant horde. Demons writhed in the air, slunk around headstones, staying warily away from the man who would be King. Sam eyed them. These were the things he'd fought, that he'd despised for so long, but now he felt more of a kinship with them than the humans he'd lived amongst his whole life. He'd always been an outcast, an outsider, the new kid in town, hell, even Dean thought he was a freak. Even Dean. He stared down the demons and gave his first order. "I want Lilith's head." The night was filled with inhuman howls as the demons tore off to do Sam's bidding and Sam smiled. Now, with Dean alive, Sam could join the hunt. Sam had done what he set out to do, saved his brother from hell, but he too was a reminder of the past. Any thought Sam may have had about keeping Dean with him had faded as he'd put him back together. Dean would never willingly join him, that he knew, so he would set him free to take his chances in the new world that Sam intended to create. He'd always be able to find Dean when he wanted him. Sam smirked, his eyes glittered gold and he disappeared as if he'd never been there. For Dean, what followed would always be a blur. Rough hands, then gentle hands, picked him up and got him into a truck. He knew it was a truck by the smell of oil and leather, but that was as much as he knew. “What do we do with him?” “We take him home.” “Home? Bobby, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get him past ...” “Then we’ll see, won’t we?” Bobby had yelled and Dean had whimpered, burrowing further under the blanket they had wrapped him in. Ellen sighed. “He’s a mess.” “Yeah, well ...” Bobby didn’t know what else to say, so he said nothing and pointed the truck towards home. Days later, Dean woke briefly in a room he knew, the one he and Sam always shared when they were at Bobby’s. The familiar surroundings lulled him, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he would roll over and see Sam sleeping in the other bed. Then the pain returned, the ache that throbbed through every cell in is body like some high grade fever, the sharp stab of wounds on his skin. He slipped back into dreams. “Sammy.” He whispered. “Dean?” “Yeah?” “Dad’s been gone too long. Is he coming back?” What did he say to that? I don’t know? And if he didn’t come back, what then? What would happen to Sammy, what would happen to him? “He’ll be back, Sammy.” “Okay.” It was when he got one word answers that he knew Sam was really worried. “Come here, Sam.” Sam immediately slipped from his bed and into Dean’s, snuggling into the warm spot and against Dean’s chest. Dean kissed his hair. “It’s okay, dude, you’ve got me.” “Always?” “Always. I promise.” They’d started arriving before he could stand. He occasionally wondered who Bobby was talking to when voices that clearly didn’t belong to Ellen or Jo floated up the stairs, but he wasn’t strong enough to give a damn. Slowly, slowly, he came back to the world, every time he opened his eyes he kept them open for longer, and he wordlessly ate whatever was given to him and swallowed whatever drugs the older hunters made him take. Slowly, so slowly, and never once did they ask about Sam. As soon as Dean thought he could stand, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and flexed his toes in the pile of the rug. Putting his weight on his legs for the first time in what felt like forever was another matter, and he took it slowly, heartened when he stood without wavering. He looked around for his clothes, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater lying on the chair in the corner of the room. They weren’t his, but they wouldn’t have been there if he wasn’t supposed to wear them, right? There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he shook his head slightly as if that would dislodge the elusive memory. He padded downstairs barefoot, following the low murmur of voices in the kitchen which stopped abruptly as he entered. “Dean, honey.” Ellen got up from the table and hugged him tightly. “Good to see you up.” She guided him to the table and down onto the chair she’d vacated. “Coffee?” His voice sounded unused, dusty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked. A spike of memory shot through him, a memory of blood and pain and he flinched. Ellen put her hand on his shoulder as Bobby poured a large mug of thick black coffee. Dean wrapped his hands around it and took a scalding gulp, needing the taste, the bitterness, anything but the taste of ashes. He looked up at Bobby, and the hunter nodded at him. “Good to have you back, son.” “How long have I been out?” “Couple of weeks, more or less.” “Where’s Sam?” Bobby and Ellen stilled, completely at a loss for words and as he stared at them, fragments came back to him. “He ... he told you where to find me?” Bobby nodded. “Text message.” He growled. “He sent us co-ordinates and ...” He looked away. “What Bobby?” “He told me to look after you.” “What do you remember, honey?” Ellen coaxed. “Hellhounds ripping, tearing into me. Sam was screaming and then I was falling? Dying? Then ... hell.” Dean trembled and covered his face with his hands. “When I woke up I was lying in a motel somewhere, and he walked away from me, and ... and his eyes ... he said he was leaving me to wallow in guilt, and then he was gone.” Dean stared into space for a while, reluctant to acknowledge what Sam had done. Done for him. “He did it. He went darkside for me? How could he do that?” His voice was rising. “He promised me.” Ellen shook her head. "He was grieving. Doesn't excuse what he did but ..." She shrugged and handed him a letter. Dean opened the seal with shaking hands. “Dean, if you’re reading this, then I know you are back safe. I’m sorry, I couldn’t leave you down there. Whatever happens, whatever I become, I’m still your brother, that will never change. Sam.” Dean let the paper fall from his fingers to the table. “How could he do that?” He yelled, leaping to his feet, reeling at the unexpected dizziness that hit him. “Dean!” Bobby hissed. “You’ve got to get that under control.” Dean stared at him. “What? You don’t think I’m entitled to get upset that my idiot of a little brother joins the other team to save me? Cut me some slack, Bobby!” “Not that.” Bobby turned him round to stare in the mirror off in the hall. “That.” Dean stared at himself. The subtle emerald glitter in his eyes faded as his anger faded, and Dean swallowed. “No, no, no, no ....” He sank to his knees on the floor. “A demon? I’m a demon?” “No, son, you’re not a demon. Near as we can tell, your soul was tainted by hell, but Sam pulled you out well before you could become a demon.” “You knew, and you still took me in?” Dean’s eyes were dull now, almost listless, and Bobby reached down to pull him to his feet. “What else could I have done? If you’d turned out to be a demon, I would have killed you, but you aren’t, you're still Dean Winchester, and all of us have been touched by hell in some way. It just shows in your eyes better than most.” Dean nodded, so utterly grateful that Bobby had given him a chance. “But you have to get a handle on your anger. If your eyes flash like that to anyone but us, they may not be so understanding.” “Okay, I’ll work on it.” A knock on the door made them all jump. “Work on it fast. People keep turning up.” Bobby was obviously disgruntled by the yard full of strangers. “Turning up? Why?” “Seems like your return from hell didn’t go unnoticed. You’ve got quite the fanclub.” “Fan club? I don’t understand. Did you tell ...” “Don’t look at me, as far as I knew, the only people who knew are sitting in this room.” “Apart from Sam and who knows how many demons.” Ellen pointed out, adding quickly, “Wasn’t me either.” “Who are they?” “Hunters, mostly, and a handful of refugees.” Dean peered through the lace curtains, eyes widening at the number of trucks and trailers occupying the field behind Bobby’s place. “Refugees? What do they want?” “You.” “Me? What do they want with me?” “Far as we can tell, they think that the man who defeated hell and left it behind unscathed, is the man who’ll save them.” “Come again?” “You rose from the dead, Dean.” Ellen said quietly. Dean stared at her, wide eyed. “That doesn’t make me ... I’m not some ..." Dean waved his arms around. "And this isn’t Field of Dreams, so where the hell are they coming from?” “Wherever it is, do you think you could tell them to get the hell out of my yard, because they ain’t listening to me. Maybe they’ll listen to you.” “There’s things he needs to know, before he starts giving orders.” Bobby grudgingly agreed and Dean slid back into the seat opposite Ellen. Bobby refilled his mug. “Sam ... Samael has been busy since he dragged you out of hell. He went after Lilith. Seems there were plenty of demons willing to follow Sam, but Lilith still has her followers.” “Samael?” Dean looked perplexed. “He's after revenge?" "It's gone further than revenge. It's war, Dean. Sam’s got Lilith on the run and doesn’t care who gets in his way. Best we can tell, he's gaining ground and supporters all the time. He locks down the cities pretty tight. Those that can get out before that happens have nowhere to go. Smaller towns are becoming hostile to strangers because they don't know who to trust." "Most of them are in my back yard." Bobby grumbled. "Which cities?" Dean sifted through the information he was being bombarded with. Ellen shifted restlessly. She’d given bad news to enough people over the years. Running a bar for hunters, she’d come into contact with death more than most did in their lifetimes, but this was worse, far worse. “All of them.” It had taken another day before Dean felt strong enough to leave the house. When he walked out onto the porch, sunglasses in place, he was taken aback by the open curiosity of the people camped closest to the house. He was used to keeping a low profile and being the center of attention threw him off balance. Then he recognized a familiar face. Jo walked towards him, and he left the porch to meet her. “Dean! Good to see you up and around.” She drew him into a hug, and he held on for a moment longer than necessary. She pulled back and smiled at him. “Come on, there’s some people you should meet.” She spent a couple of hours introducing him to hunters, a few he’d briefly met before, most he hadn’t. Many offered their condolences at the loss of his brother. Dean thanked them, then changed the subject. They thought that Sam had been possessed by a high level demon. No-one outside of Gordon’s tight clique of associates had ever given credence to the rumours about Sam. As the afternoon wore on, Dean was already cataloguing the people he met, going on first impressions and instinct. Some he’d felt more at ease with than others, some were understandably guarded and there were one or two with an edge of crazy. Most of the refugees had tagged along with hunters they’d met on the road. They were the ones with shell shocked expressions, who’s worlds had been turned upside down. Hunters knew the score, dealt with whatever supernatural ugly they came across, but for civilians, it had to be hard to take, waking up one morning to find out that nightmares really did come true. He and Jo wandered back to the house as the sun began to set. Ellen was sitting at the table going over lists while Bobby tended to a large pan on the stove. Dean’s stomach grumbled. He still didn’t have much of an appetite but despite that, the older hunters kept insisting he eat. Not that he minded. He’d dropped more than a few pounds while he was recovering, and he knew that he needed to get back to full fitness real fast. Dean peered at the notepad Ellen was pouring over. She caught him looking and pushed it across the table. “Inventory. We’ve got to make sure everyone has enough to eat.” “Oh.” Dean hadn’t thought of that. “So now you’ve met the folks, what do we do with them?” Ellen smiled at him. “Do with them? I, er ...” “They can’t stay here.” Bobby grumbled. Dean ignored him. “I need to think.” He walked back outside, but this time, headed off between the rows of old cars away from the house. There was a shed at the end of the yard where he and Sam had often hung out when they were younger. He leaned against it and squinted his eyes against the sun, pushing away memories of nine year old Sammy, all dimples and scuffed knees, smiling at him. Dean sighed. The people he’d met, hunters and civilians alike, were looking to him for answers and he didn’t know what to tell them. This was big, huge, not just some angry spirit who’s bones could be salted and burned. This was ... damn, he wished Sam was there. To talk this through with him. To bitch and moan at him when he tried to joke about it. To worry and care what was going to happen to all those people. To kiss him roughly and make him forget that anything existed outside of the two of them plastered together skin to skin. He missed Sam so much. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to keep it together, had to work this out on his own. Could he look at it as just another hunt? If he did, the first step was research. He wanted to see firsthand what he was up against, wanted to see Sam in action. But it was different from any other hunt. Sam had saved him from hell, and then let him go. Dean wasn’t about to charge off to take down his baby brother unless there wasn’t any other way. Even now, he wasn’t about to follow John’s orders to kill him if he followed his destiny. If there was a way to save him, Dean would find it. He walked slowly back to Bobby’s house, happier that he’d come to some decisions. Bobby was serving up the stew as he opened the door to the kitchen. He sat down, and the others looked at him expectantly. “We have to find somewhere safe for the civilians, and a base for the hunters. We have to get organized. And I want to see what’s happening out there for myself.” He got nods of agreement all round. It was a start, a beginning. Four days later, Dean and Jo arrived back from a meeting with the sheriff of a nearby town who’d wanted reassurances that there wouldn’t be any trouble with the increasing number of people arriving in the area. Dean had curbed his annoyance and used it as an opportunity to build some bridges and find out how he and the others could help protect the town. He’d graciously allowed Jo to drive back. “Jesus, Jo, you can’t treat her like that!” Dean yelled as they pulled up in Bobby’s yard. He smoothed a hand over the dash of the Impala. “It’s okay baby, never again.” Jo rolled her eyes. “You’re over-reacting! I drove her all the way back from Maine without a scratch!” “I had to retune the engine!” They both got out and Jo slammed the door, much to Dean’s annoyance. “Next time, you can walk.” He growled. “Good to see you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies.” Dean swung round at the sound of a familiar voice. "Hendriksen! What the fuck are you doing here?" He strode over and shook Victor's hand. "Dean Winchester! Came to find you. Word is that you're the man to talk to." 'About what?" "About fixing this." Dean stared at him, still too overwhelmed to give him any kind of coherent reply. Then he noticed someone lurking behind the tall ex-FBI man. Some guy, about Sam's age, not as tall by far, but with that slumped shoulder emo look Sam had down to a tee. "Who's that?" "Kyle. He and his family escaped from LA. They didn't make it and I found him a few days later." Dean nodded. "Come on in, there’s some people you need to meet." After what they'd been through in the siege, Hendriksen was one of the few people on earth Dean trusted. He knew Bobby would douse his friend with Holy water as a precaution and it was one he agreed with. He felt that in the midst of a nightmare, he'd found another ally. Kyle followed them to the door, but Dean stopped him. "Not him." Hendriksen shrugged and nodded. "Stay here, okay?" Kyle nodded and slid down the wall, grabbing his knees and staring out over the porch. "No offence, kid." Dean apologized, but Kyle ignored him. Inside, Dean made the introductions, and Hendriksen shook hands with Bobby and Ellen and Dean had the odd impression that something major had just clicked into place. He passed Bobby's test and they sat round the table. "First, Kyle." Dean frowned but nodded, wondering how one kid was the most important thing they could have to talk about. "He watched a pack of demons tear his family apart." Dean blanched. "From what he said, Sam led them." Dean stood up, his chair scraping noisily against the wooden floor. "No." Hendriksen's voice was quiet but firm. "You need to hear this. You need to know who your enemy is." "He's not my enemy, he's my brother!" "Not any more, Dean. You were the one who told me what was really out there, and now you have to face it, and fast." Dean sat back down, slumping in the chair, wishing that he was still riding the edge of unconsciousness upstairs in Bobby's space room. "Tell us what you know." Hendriksen was used to giving reports on cases that would have made lesser agents nauseous so he took a deep breath and laid it out for them. He confirmed what they already knew, that the major cities in the parts of the country that Sam held had been taken and locked down. Many of those inside had willingly gone over to Samael’s side once they saw the alternative. Many others had been taken unwillingly and used as canon fodder in the ongoing hunt for Lilith. "He’s closing in on her fast. Word is that demons are flocking to join him. He’s shown his strength, and they know her days are numbered. He favors knives as weapons of torture, and he's skilled in using them, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that." Hendriksen paused before he went on. "When he's in the mood, he targets families. He'll leave siblings alive but kills their parents, grandparents and any other relatives who happen to be around or try to get in the way." “He’s orphaning kids.” Ellen blanched. “Enough.” Dean’s voice was harsh, almost broken. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and Ellen poured him a shot of whisky which he downed. He pushed the glass back towards her for another. "So Kyle? He's from one of these families? He'd not exactly a kid." "Yes. I got him out during a recon mission into LA. Turns out he's got special talents." "What kind of special talents?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "He's got a shady past. Computer hacking, mostly, but he’s a genius when it comes to anything electronic." "No offence, but I'd say we have bigger problems on our hands." "You need lines of communication, Dean. There are hunters all over the country, am I right? Mostly solitary or working together like you and Sam, but with no real communication between them. We need to get them co-ordinated if we're going to have a chance of fighting this." "Okay, I see the sense in that but where does Kyle come into it?" "One of the problems we'd have is security. Wouldn't do for information and intel to fall into the wrong hands. A computer virus is bad enough to deal with but a demonic computer virus? A whole new ball game." "Shit." "Yeah, shit. Kyle's already taken one out, so in a way, he's as much of a hunter as any of us, he just uses different tools. Look, you, Bobby, Ellen and Jo? You know what you're doing when it comes to demons. I'm new at this game and I can handle myself in a fight, but you know I worked for the FBI. Let me put all those skills to good use and help you get organized." Dean nodded. "Talk to Bobby and Ellen. I want to talk to Kyle first." When Dean followed Hendriksen into the house and closed the door behind them, Kyle was left with the low hum of voices from inside the house. He pulled his knees close and rested his head on them, looking out at the people beyond the fence. There were a handful of children amongst the refugees and the warm, bright day had encouraged them to play in the sun. They didn’t move too far away from the shade of the cars and trucks, just enough to feel the breeze on their faces. Some of them even smiled as they played together in the dirt under watchful eyes that had witnessed too much to let them wander too far. The children’s laughter made him smile, just a little and he started. He’d never smiled before. It felt good. Everything else that had happened since he’d arrived had been painful, shocking, enough to drive anyone a little crazy. The reality of the world was too harsh, too loud, too terrifying to comprehend. He wondered, not for the first time, if he’d made a mistake in coming here. When he fell, he thought he’d retain more of what he’d been, but instead he’d crashed into the body of a dying man, Kyle Summers, and discovered the meaning of hell on earth. The man had gladly aided him, letting him in as he left the broken shell that had contained his soul. He left behind his memories, his hopes and fears, his loves and losses. He’d thrown himself from heaven full of determination to save a man called Dean Winchester, but used up what energy he’d escaped with to heal the body that was now his. He became human, powerless and fragile. And now there was no way back. Dean let himself out onto the porch without waiting to hear what the older hunters thought of Hendriksen's idea. "Hey." Dean looked down at the kid curled against the wall. "Kyle? I'm Dean. I want to talk to you." Kyle looked up then scrambled to his feet, looking at Dean nervously and wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. "Will you tell me what happened to your family?" Kyle swallowed nervously and wrapped his arms around himself. He wasn’t lying when he told dean what had happened. He was Kyle now, full of his memories, and it hurt to share them with anyone. Even Dean. "I was in the basement with my family. We were trying to hide from the demons. That's what Hendriksen told me they were. But we were dragged up into the house and some tall man came, least we thought he was a man, until his eyes turned gold. He ... he reached into my Dad's chest and tore out his heart. The blood was real thick and it dripped through his fingers onto the floor and I thought my Mom would be pissed, because she doesn't even like you to wear shoes in the house and this was blood but she was screaming and screaming and screaming until he growled at her to stop and twisted her neck right around. Then he saw me and ... he asked me if I had a brother." Kyle was shaking badly but shied away when Dean went to touch him. "I told him Michael wasn't there, he was away at college. He said it was my job to look after Michael, that his older brother had always looked after him. He put his hand on my face, and I could smell the blood, but he let me live.” Kyle paused and looked up at Dean. “Hendriksen told me about you." Dean slumped against the porch railings, horrified by the kid's story. "What did he tell you?" "He asked me questions first. What did the guy look like, exactly what did he say, and then he told me that he was your brother once, that a demon had taken him over and now we had to find you because you're the only one who can stop him." "Is that what all these people think?" Dean looked out at the collection of strays Hendriksen had brought with him. Kyle nodded. "Can you? Stop him?" Deep in Kyle's eyes there was the faintest glimmer of hope, and Dean couldn't kill it, couldn't do that to a kid that Sam had taken everything else from. "I'm gonna try my best. But I need your help." Kyle nodded again. "Come on in." Dean opened the door and introduced the frightened young man to what was fast becoming The Resistance. Three nights after Hendriksen arrived, Kyle crawled into Dean's bed. The he'd cleaned up well and Ellen had found him some fresh clothes. He was older than Jo, but Dean could see the mother coming out in Ellen as she took care of him. Now, the young hacker curled against Dean's chest, and as much as Dean tried to push him away, he only wriggled closer. "Cold." "Then go get a blanket." "You're warmer than a blanket." Dean snorted. "When I was growing up and Michael had a nightmare, he'd sneak into my bed and we'd sleep together so the bogy man wouldn't get him. Kept me safe too." Dean blinked in the darkness and slipped an arm round Kyle's shoulders, trying to convince himself he wasn't thinking of Sam. "Where's Michael now?" "He was at college, Harvard. I haven't heard from him since ... since it happened. Don't even know if he's alive." "He's alive. You'd know if he wasn't. You'd feel it." "Do you ..." Dean didn't let him finish, didn't want to have to answer the question. "Go to sleep." "Dean." Dean turned round to see Sam standing behind him, smiling at him. "Sam? Sammy?" "Did you really think I'd leave you, Dean?" "No, I ..." Sam kissed him roughly and before he could think, his legs were around Sam's waist and Sam's cock was buried deep in his ass, painfully fucking him. "Sammy, slow down." "No." Sam growled. "You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Dean." He forced Dean further down, splitting him open, making him cry out. Dean's fingers grabbed Sam's hair and pulled him back, only to find glittering golden eyes staring back at him. "No!" But Sam was relentless and Dean sobbed as he came, feeling Sam fill him as he slumped against him. "No, Sammy, not like this." "It's the only way, Dean. And believe me, this isn't a dream." Sam bit down on his shoulder, drawing blood. Dean shot awake in bed, Kyle cowering beside him. "Dean? You okay?" But Dean was already out of bed, switching the light on and examining his shoulder. He touched the bloody teeth marks, his fingers trembling. What the fuck? "How did this happen?" Dean spun around, glaring daggers at Kyle. "Did you do this?" "No! Why would I?" "Some twisted form of revenge?" "No, man, this wasn't me." Kyle stubbornly insisted. His fingers tentatively touched Dean's skin. "This is what happened in your dream? Physical damage?" "Yeah." Dean nodded and warned. “This stays between you and me.” Kyle nodded earnestly. Dean lay back down on the bed, welcoming the comfort of a warm body curled around him. “There’s a Titan 1 missile site just outside of Denver. More than enough underground space.” “Sounds homely.” Dean raised an eyebrow at Hendriksen. “Maybe too close to the city limits.” Hendriksen mused, mainly to himself. “Huh. Communications vault in Pulaski, Indiana has more potential, but it’s only 75 miles from Chicago.” “Does it have to be underground?” Dean asked. Hendriksen just glared at him over the lid of the laptop. “Okay, okay!” Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, popped the caps and handed Victor one. “That’s the last. Guess we need to go on a supply run.” Already, people had started to adapt. They could no longer rely on produce from any further afield than the local farms and producers, and co-operatives had begun to be the norm. It had heartened Dean to see people pulling together and helping each other out as they began to accept that they had to be responsible for themselves, that no government or armed force was going to save them. The hardest part was getting Joe Normal and his family to accept that the best protection against the horrors that were overcoming the cities was rock salt and warding symbols. Dean sent teams of hunters out to local towns to try and help them keep out any stray demons and other nasties that crawled out of the woodwork now the world was fair game. Hendriksen finished his beer and closed the laptop. “You want to head out to Ramona, see how Bobby’s getting on?” “Sure.” Dean chugged back the last of his beer and grabbed his jacket and his shades. “Kyle!” He yelled. Kyle pulled himself away from a pile of Bobby’s books and poked his head around the door. He was standing taller, now, Dean was glad to see, but he was still wary of people. “We’re going to grab supplies. Want to come?” “No, I’ll stay.” “Okay, see you later, dude.” They drove out of Bobby’s yard, Hendriksen riding shotgun. Dean stopped at what had become the checkpoint. Tom, big and burly with a heart of gold, walked over to the Impala. “Any new arrivals?” Dean asked, pushing the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Only three today, so far. A hunter called Jake brought a woman and her daughter in. They’re pretty shook up, but there was room for them in the barn.” Bobby’s barn had become home to those Ellen saw needed a little more protection than most. “Okay, Tom, thanks. We’ll be back in three or four hours tops.” “Sure thing, Dean.” Tom patted the top of the Impala and they drove off. No-one left without giving an approximate time that they’d be gone for. Dean didn’t want anyone to go unaccounted for at the end of the day. He felt responsible for these people, and didn’t want anyone getting killed because no-one had noticed they were missing. It hadn’t taken him long to become fiercely protective over them. “You and Kyle seem to be getting along.” Hendriksen observed. “He misses his brother.” Dean shrugged, ending the conversation. He didn’t add that he missed his brother too, and he felt guilty about using Kyle as a substitute sometimes. Not that they were fucking, but Kyle was a warm comforting presence in his bed. He also helped Dean ground himself after visitations from Sam. Four times now, Sam had come for him, used him and thrown him back to jolt awake in the dark. Four times, each time more brutal than the last. He left Dean shaken, sometimes bleeding, which scared the hell out of him. But Kyle was there to soothe him, bring him back from the edge, and for that, Dean was grateful. He hadn’t yet told anyone else about the dreams, and hadn’t planned to, but there was a problem with that. So far, he was the only one in camp who knew that Sam had defeated Lilith. Torn her head off, to be precise, and stuck it on a pike on top of the Empire State Building. Dean hadn’t pointed out to his brother that technically, it was the head of a dental hygienist. Sam hadn’t been in a listening mood. He’d been in the mood to fuck Dean wide open and lacerate a nipple. Lilith’s death was important intel that Dean shouldn’t yet know, as no-one had reported it through their usual channels, so he had to keep it to himself. He sighed inwardly. He’d have to think of a way of letting the others know about the connection between him and Sam without telling them everything. No way was he going to humiliate himself by admitting to being the anti-christ’s fuck toy. Later that night, when the house was in darkness, and the camp had quieted down for the night, Kyle slipped into his bed. He lay so close that Dean could feel warm breath on his face. Slowly, he bent his head forward, kissing Kyle almost chastely. Kyle kissed him back, opening up for Dean, whimpering into his mouth as Dean tangled his fingers in the younger man’s hair. Dean lost himself for a while in Kyle’s sweet, warm mouth, pushing away the thought that he was somehow cheating on Sam. Back then, when his resurrection was still a concept Dean had a hard time dealing with, he still had hope. Despite the way Sam used him in his dreams, left him with no doubt that the demon blood had worked it's magic and turned his heart to stone, Dean still hoped. The next time Sam came for him, his brother stood with his back to Dean, arms folded, shoulders set. Dean put a tentative hand on Sam's arm, ready to pull away at the first sign of anger, but Sam allowed the touch. Dean moved closer until he was pressed against Sam's back. He didn't know what this was, dream, illusion, a shade of Sam tucked away in the ether, but he smelled the same. Dean couldn't help himself. He nuzzled through the dark silky strands of hair covering Sam's neck and sighed. "Come home." "I can't." "It's over, Sam. You won. The witch is dead, so what now?" "Over? It'll never be over. Every time I put one of them down, another will think that maybe they can be stronger, maybe they have the right to rule. But they don't." Sam growled. Dean shivered, but didn't let go. "I'm losing you." "You lost me a long time ago, Dean. The minute Jake's knife sliced through my spinal cord, it was all over." "No." Now it was Dean's turn to growl. "Walk away from this, walk away and don't look back. You got me out, Sammy, and you killed Lilith. We can deal with everything else." "Deal, Dean? You think I can walk back into Bobby's and be welcomed with open arms? After what I've done?" "It wasn't you, it wasn't ..." "It was me. Everyone I've killed, every time I've taken a knife to someone's throat and slit it open? All me. All that anger that festered inside of me for as long as I can remember feels good now. Feels right. This is who I was meant to be and it doesn't matter how much you want your little Sammy back. He's dead and buried." Dean trembled against Sam's back. "You should have let me rot, should have burned my bones and gone on without me, but you just couldn't do it." "Please, Sammy ..." Sam heaved an irritated sigh and turned round to face Dean. "Time you left." Dean woke up with a start. It took them another three weeks to settle on a base of operations. One of Hendriksen’s favoured underground sites was chosen, and plans made to move what had become a sizable camp to its new home. It had taken a lot of talking, some browbeating and more than a little charm to get everyone on board. Some, especially the families, hadn’t wanted to relocate to an underground bunker, and Dean completely understood why, so he’d spoken to local community leaders and found them new homes in nearby safe–towns. Some of the hunters had also been wary of being tied down to one place until Dean had explained the idea of having a base to them. Somewhere they’d always have a warm bed and decent food waiting for them when they needed it. Somewhere they could restock ammo, and go for medical treatment. Dean saw this as the first of a handful of safe havens around the country, heavily protected and somewhere they could fall back to if necessary. Lilith may be dead, and thankfully that was now common knowledge, but Sam was still very much alive and unpredictable. No-one knew what the future held, so they had to be prepared for the worst. They also had to protect as many people as possible. He’d already organised teams of hunters to visit towns and help protect them and the quicker they could spread the word, maybe even recruit, the better. But Dean was adamant that it be done right. Last thing he wanted was gangs of armed men riding into town like outlaws and taking advantage of the hospitality they were offered. He chose the leaders of the teams well, and promised that any transgressions would be punished. If they were to stand a chance of at least holding back the darkness, hunters and civilians needed to work together. Bobby listened as Dean spoke to the hunters he now led, heart swelling with pride. He’d watched Dean grow up. From the wary child he’d been when he first met when Dean was six and already protecting Sammy from the world, to the leader he was becoming so he could protect the world from Sam. By the time they were ready to make the move, tensions were running high, even between what Hendriksen had taken to calling “the family”. Dean, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, himself and Kyle. No-one knew what Sam would do next, and Dean didn’t want to face up to the inevitable. The night before they left, it all came to a head. “You’re his weakness.” Bobby sighed. “No, Bobby, it’s the other way round. He was always mine.” “Face it, Dean, you’re the key to all this. You can bring him down.” Hendriksen agreed with Bobby. Dean shook his head and stared out of the window. “He couldn’t leave you there but he can’t keep you around. And he’s drawn to you, you’ve seen that.” Dean had finally caved and told them about the dreams with all the explicit detail left out. Only Kyle knew the whole truth, and Dean sometimes wondered what he’d done to deserve such loyalty from the kid. “So what am I supposed to do? Kill him?” “Well, yeah.” Dean snorted. “So it all comes back to that? My Dad sold his soul for me, and left me with the knowledge that I might have to kill my baby brother but before it can come to that he dies in my arms and since I can’t face life without him, I sell my soul for him and get a piss poor deal from the fucking demon. I die when my time is up, but Sammy, he can’t see me suffering so he goes darkside to save me, bring me back, and now I have to kill him?” Dean glared at his friends. “I just want it to stop! I’ve done so much in the name of this war, got so much blood on my hands I can feel it on my fingers but I’m not going to kill my brother. He can burn the world around us, but I can’t do it, Bobby, I just can’t. Find another way.” He grabbed his coat and left the house behind him, slamming the door on the way out. Despite his protests, he knew that he couldn't let Sam continue to hurt people, that one day, he'd have to face up to the prospect of killing his brother. But he wasn't ready yet. Dean didn’t go back to the house until it was in darkness. Kyle was already asleep in his bed when Dean got there and instead of joining him, Dean sat on the other bed and stared into space, his head full of jumbled thoughts. “What’s dead should stay dead.” Dean scrubbed the heel of his palms into his eyes. He was tired, so tired, but he couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to risk Sam finding him. “You ever think about her in all this?” If ever words had come back to haunt anyone, those were the ones that haunted him. “I did it for her.” “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn’t have to live without her. Well guess what? She’s going to have to live without you now. And what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost you your soul? How do you think she would feel?” So fucking pious. He’d judged that guy, Evan? Without a second thought. Seen it from his own point of view, the point of view of someone who knew deep down what it had cost his father to save him. His own guilt had eaten away at him, even though his father, Like Evan, had given him no choice in the matter. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend what would make someone do that ... until Sam had died in his arms and he did the only thing he could think of to save him. "And what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost you your soul?" For a year, Sam had thrown himself into saving Dean, guilt in his eyes, pain in his heart, grief eating at his soul. “How could he do it?” “He did it for you.” “And exactly how am I supposed to live with that?” The words twisted round, and he heard Sam screaming at him, unable to come to terms with the sacrifice he’d made. “How could you do it?” “I did it for you.” “And how am I supposed to live with that, Dean?” God, he wanted to sleep. He snorted. God? Yeah, right, like he would listen to after everything Dean had done. “Dean, when you were trapping that demon, you weren’t ... it was all a trick, right?. You never considered actually making the deal, right?” Sammy, his Sammy, had looked so concerned that Dean could have considered trading himself, even if it was for their father. Later, in a motel room with sunflower wallpaper on the walls and what looked like a faded bloodstain on the carpet in the corner by the bathroom, Dean had held Sam and breathed a litany of apology over his lips trying to take away the hurt and confusion he’d put there. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t leave you, you know that. It made me think, that’s all, of how Dad might be ... might be suffering. What if he is, Sam? But I wouldn’t have done it, I promise ...” A handful of months later, he broke every promise he made that night. Because of him, hurt and confusion became part of Sam until the slow burning rage inside him ignited, and the world trembled. “Take care of your brother, Dean. You have to save him and if you can’t you have to end him.” What father lays that responsibility on their son? Dean sometimes wished he’d died that day. Dean hugged his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as he could. There was a soft knock at the door, and it cracked open, sending a sliver of dull light across the floor. “Dean?” “Yeah, Bobby?” There was no resentment over the argument the previous night. He’d known Bobby for too long, and if he’d been in his shoes, he would have been thinking the same thing. “It’s almost time. You ready?” “I’ll wake Kyle and see you downstairs.” Bobby nodded and left, leaving the door open. Dean got off the bed and switched the light on, nudging Kyle’s shoulder to wake him up. The kid was fully clothed under the blankets and slipped out of bed and across to the bathroom as Dean reached for his jacket hanging on the back of the door. He’d packed earlier, a bag full of weapons and very little else. He pushed his favourite gun into the shoulder holster he now wore and strapped the big hunting knife to his thigh. Shot gun in one hand and bag in the other, he walked purposefully downstairs to where Bobby and the others were eating breakfast. He poured out a strong coffee, not hungry for food. Kyle ran down the stairs behind him, his own backpack in his hand, and helped himself to sausages and bacon. Even Dean had to smile when Ellen insisted on washing the dishes after breakfast and stacking them neatly. “We might be away for a while.” She shrugged. Bobby huffed, and opened the door to the yard where a big black truck sat side by side with the Impala, waiting for them to lead their little camp to it’s new home. Dean took a deep breath, looking over at the waiting convoy of trucks and cars. “Let's do this.” Part Three