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Fic: Never Say Die (10/16)
Title: Never Say Die (10/16)
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Adults Only
Pairing: John/Ellen (see notes in Part 0)
Summary: After a hunt that went horribly wrong, John wakes up in a California hospital. It's thirteen years later, everyone he trusted seems to be dead, and he has no idea how to find his sons. Meanwhile, unknown to John, Dean's time is running out.
Warnings: Darkfic. Character death. Torture. (See notes in Part 0 for more details)
Spoilers: Up to Jus In Bello.
Previous chapters: archived here.
NEVER SAY DIE
Part Ten
Sam woke to the smell of coffee and to the warmth of his brother's body in his arms. He smiled sleepily, savouring the miracle: Dean, breathing and warm and alive. The miracle that they were both free of Dean's deal at last.
He felt Dean stir beside him. "Dude," Dean muttered, "you better not have wood."
"Screw you," Sam said pleasantly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The door to the next room was open and the welcome scent of coffee still drifted in. Sam reached for the jeans he'd discarded the night before and found them stiff with caked mud. He groped under the bed for his duffel. "How's the shoulder?" he asked.
Dean, sitting up in the bed, craned his neck to check the dressing. "It's fine. Just a scratch." He wrinkled his nose. "You really need a shower."
"Right back atcha," Sam retorted, pulling on a fresh pair of pants.
They both dressed hurriedly and went to join the others. Sam saw Bobby first, sitting down with a plate of food.
Sam grinned. "Someone made breakfast?"
John was leaning against a pillar. He straightened up as they entered. Somehow, in the darkness and the storm of the previous night, it had seemed natural that John should be there. In daylight, the impossibility of this man's presence hit Sam anew. Dad was two years dead. They had burned his body, scattered the ashes to the four winds. Yet here he stood. John was dressed as he had always dressed: blue jeans, black t-shirt, military surplus shirt and boots. He looked a little worse for wear with several days' worth of beard, his hair tousled as if it had never seen a comb and fading bruises on one cheek. The bruises made Sam look more closely. John's jeans and shirt were spattered with mud, but some of it might have been blood, too.
Before Sam could ask anything, Dean moved past him. John stepped forward to meet Dean and a second later the two men were hugging. Sam saw John's face, a picture of relief and joy, his eyes closed as he hugged Dean close.
"Oh, my God, Dad," Dean babbled. "Are you real? Are you really alive?"
Sam figured that would do for both of them.
"Last time I checked," John answered dryly. He drew away from Dean, and his reluctance to break the embrace showed in his every movement. He looked at Sam.
Sam didn't hesitate. He moved forward and opened his arms to his father. John hugged him just as tightly as he had Dean. Sam didn't need to ask if this was real. He was certain. He hugged his dad back, hoping to say with his body all the things he hadn't been able to say when John died.
When they drew apart, though, John's expression was grim. "Son, we need to talk."
Sam saw Dean's smile vanish. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Demons. Near as I can tell this cabin is surrounded. They ain't showing themselves but we - " he nodded toward David, " - made at least ten."
Damn it. The news wasn't much of a surprise, but still...damn it! "How are they deployed?" Sam asked. He expected his dad to dismiss the question, but John answered at once.
"Six fixed positions roughly surrounding the cabin. From what we saw we estimate three or more per position."
Eighteen demons, then. "In other words," Sam summarised, "we're in trouble."
"We seem to be safe as long as we're in the cabin," Ellen said, though Sam knew that wasn't quite true. "So sit yourselves down and eat." She offered Sam a plate.
Sam looked at the contents and grinned. "You made pancakes? How?"
Ellen gave him a knowing look. "My grandma taught me how to make a decent meal out of almost nothing. Nothing's all they had in the thirties. No sense facing battle on an empty stomach, boys."
Dean grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am," he said cheekily.
"Sammy?" John prompted, nodding toward the door.
When John said, We need to talk, Sam hadn't thought he meant alone. Why would Dad want to talk to him without Dean? Especially now, after everything Dean had been through. There was only one way to find out. Sam accepted a mug of coffee from Ellen and followed John out of the cabin.
"What's up, Dad?" he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice.
"I need to tell you some things."
"Me? Not Dean?"
"I think you should decide how much of this your brother needs to know." John sat down on the cabin steps, almost exactly where Dean had been sitting the morning before.
"Are you asking me to keep secrets from Dean?" Sam sat down beside him, setting his plate and coffee between them.
"No, Sammy. I'm not telling you to keep a secret. You and Dean know each other far better than I know you right now. You decide what to tell him. Or not."
"About what?"
"Last night we saved Dean because he's family. I didn't need any more reason than that and I'm sure you didn't. But David brought me back to save him for another reason. I guess you could call it a prophecy.
Sam froze, the coffee mug halfway to his lips. "A prophecy about Dean?"
John said, slowly, "If Dean dies this week, if Dean goes to Hell, in twenty years so will the world. Literally."
Sam felt cold. "You believe that?"
John didn't answer.
"But we saved Dean," Sam pointed out. "So this prophecy..." He frowned. What did the prophecy mean? Was Dean supposed to do something to save the world?
John nodded. "You were always quick to figure out the right questions. You know there's a war going on?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "You could say I've noticed," he spat bitterly. "We're the ones who've been fighting it!"
John raised a hand in a peace gesture. "Alright, son, I didn't mean to rile you."
"It's not a war, though," Sam added. "I mean, a war has leaders, objectives and strategies."
"You don't see that here?" John asked, his tone interested.
Sam sipped his coffee. "Not even close. Lilith has followers but there are a lot of demons out there on no one's side. They escaped from Hell and they're just..." he shrugged, "...having a party. It's chaos out there because that's the way they like it. And on our side...well, you know what hunters are like." Sam thought, but didn't say, Half of them think I'm the anti-Christ, thanks to Gordon. Though none of the others had Gordon Walker's special obsession, Sam had found himself hunted more than once since he killed that crazy son of a bitch. Sam met his father's eyes. "The truth is, if Lilith gets organised, we're toast."
"That depends on her plan," John disagreed. "Do you know it?"
"Long term? No. Right now killing me seems to be top of her list."
John was silent for a moment. "That's actually good news," he said eventually. "It makes some of her moves predictable."
"Thanks!" Sam burst out sarcastically. Feel the love in that statement!
"You know what I meant."
Sam turned to John. "Whatever it is, just spit it out, Dad."
"Last night," John said, "you asked if I was prepared to kill you. How do you feel this morning?"
About you killing me? Sam frowned. The moment Dad said it he felt that pulse of power in his blood again, a genie refusing to get back in the bottle. What did it mean? "You told Dean once that he might have to kill me," Sam answered.
"Yes," John said. "I did." He didn't look at Sam as he spoke. He sat on the cabin steps, his hands clasped together between his knees, the knuckles white. "I think you know why, son. The yellow-eyed demon was still after you then. But he's dead now. Sammy, I tried to tell you last night: what you are is not who you are. You're human, no matter what he did to you or what powers you have. That means you have choices."
Sam stared out over the landscape. The night's storm had left the grass greener and the sky bluer than before. The lake below them was a perfect mirror reflecting snow-capped mountains and azure sky. Sam didn't see the beauty. He saw the places along the tree-line where the scrub was thick enough to conceal an enemy force. He saw the huge fallen tree at the edge of the lake: large enough to conceal a boat from view. He saw the track curving away from the cabin and all the danger spots they would have to pass on the way out.
The world was shiny and new because Dean was alive and free.
The world was more a threatening place than ever.
"I don't see many choices," Sam answered. "Lilith and her demons will hunt me until I'm dead. I can't choose to stay out of it. I can't even choose who to fight."
Unexpectedly, he felt the warmth of John's hand on his arm and looked up to meet John's understanding eyes.
"You've had a rough time, haven't you?" John said softly. "It took me twenty years to get as tired as you sound." There was no judgement in his words, only empathy.
Sam felt tears sting his eyes and blinked them back, angry with himself. "Dean sold his soul, Dad! He did it because I died and I died because - "
"Because I betrayed you to Azazel," John interrupted.
Sam stared at him. No. That couldn't be true. He tried to speak but no sound came out. Dad? Dad betrayed him? To the demon that killed his mother? Dad was responsible for the Hell he and Dean had been going through?
John withdrew his hand. He met Sam's eyes briefly, enough to confirm his words, then he turned away. "I want you to understand this, son. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, only for you to hear me out." He fell silent, looking down at the cabin steps. When Sam made no reply, he went on. "When Dean was dying, I considered myself responsible. I think you blamed me, too. The demon used me to get to you both. It used my body to hurt Dean..."
"Dad, you were possessed! It wasn't your fault."
"Trading my soul wasn't the plan. I thought the Colt... But the demon knew how desperate I was. When I said I was willing to make a deal, he knew I would pay any price. Even my soul." John met Sam's eyes again. "And if I had understood what that son of a bitch really wanted from me, if I'd known what selling my soul would lead to, I would have let Dean die in that hospital. Because what he wanted from me, was you."
"You expect me to believe you didn't know that? Come on, Dad."
"All I expect is you to hear me out, Sam. Of course I knew what the demon planned for you. I hoped that warning Dean would protect you. I knew you boys would figure out the demon was involved in my death and I thought that, too, would protect you. But I didn't understand what Hell is. It's..."
"I know," Sam interrupted, not wanting to hear it. Meg's description came back to him and he repeated her words aloud, "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear."
"That's part of it," John agreed. "There are no secrets in Hell, Sam. It's impossible to hide anything, from yourself or from them. The demon wanted me in Hell so he would know everything I knew. Who you are. Your loves, your weaknesses. I had no choice, Sam. I gave it all up."
The real meaning of John's words came clear and Sam felt physically sick. "Because of you, he knew that I'd do anything for Dean, and him for me. He set me up to fail in Cold Oak. To die, so Dean would..."
"I believe it started before that. I don't know the details, but this wasn't the first crossroads deal Dean made, was it?"
"Dean trapped the demon to save someone's life, but - "
"You see, when you make a deal with a demon, you give it power over you. Dean probably thought he was getting away with it but that deal made him vulnerable, open to manipulation by the same demon, when he lost you. Azazel wouldn't have let you stay dead, Sam, no matter what he claimed. You were bait for the trap, then Dean became the same for you."
"I figured that out," Sam said resentfully. "I didn't know it was your doing."
"You see why I needed to tell you this alone?"
Because Dean couldn't know about this. He would never be able to handle it. "I see. Yeah."
"Azazel wasn't the only one who came to me in Hell. Someone else forced me to reveal things about you."
Oh. Suddenly a lot of other things fell into place. "Ruby," Sam said. "That's what you meant when you said you were going to repay her for something."
"Ruby. And I meant what I said to her. She expects you to fulfil the demon's plan for you."
Sam shook his head at once. "No. No, you're wrong about that." Ruby wanted him to become...something. Yes, Sam knew that. She had an agenda. But it wasn't about leading some dumb demon army. She'd been helping him fight against the demons.
John looked sceptical, but he didn't argue. Sam thought that was a first. "Tell me what happened in Monument," John said.
The change of subject threw Sam for a moment. He answered, "Lilith showed up looking for us. She killed - "
"No, son," John interrupted. "I want to know what happened to you and Dean. I already heard Ruby's version of events. I'd like to hear yours."
So Sam told him. Henrickson and the FBI. The demons surrounding the small police station. Ruby's plan to sacrifice an innocent girl to kill every demon in the area. The girl in question, apparently willing. Dean's insistence that they find another way. Their plan, the battle and the mass exorcism. Then Lilith, cleaning up the mess.
When Sam fell silent, he found his dad watching him closely. Too closely: the scrutiny was enough to make Sam uncomfortable.
"What?" he demanded.
"One question, Sam, Truth, okay?"
"Alright."
"Would you really have sacrificed that girl, if Dean hadn't stopped you?"
It was a question Sam had asked himself a lot since that night. He shrugged. "I don't know. I think yes. It seemed like we were out of options."
"And Dean gave you a reasonable alternative, so you went with that?"
"Yeah. But it got everyone killed anyway."
"No, Sam. From what you said, the first demon put out the word that you were there. Lilith already knew. You're not to blame for what she did."
"But...?" Sam began, then stopped. Dad was right. Ruby's plan had been to kill all of the demons surrounding the building. Lilith would certainly have noticed a demon holocaust like that.
John smiled. It wasn't a happy smile. "No 'but', Sam. No criticism. I wasn't sure before, but I am now. You're ready."
John almost smiled at Sam's surprise. It was true that Sam had borne the brunt of John's criticism rather more than his brother. When had Sammy gone from being his pampered baby to being a rebellious brat who questioned John's every ruling? John couldn't remember, not exactly, but it was before Sam was old enough for him to label it teenage angst. By the time Sam hit his teens, their battles had become a habit for both of them, a habit they never managed to break.
Could he break the habit now? John didn't know.
But his little Sammy was no longer a boy. Truthfully, he hadn't been a boy for many years. He was a man, now. While they talked, John could see something lurking behind Sam's eyes and knew that the power he had released the night before was still there. They could deal with that when the time came. It might make Sam something more than a man; it couldn't make him less human. John believed it because he had to believe it. Anything else was unthinkable.
John watched his son carefully as Sam told his story. He saw every emotion that crossed Sam's face. He recognised the guilt Sam felt over the deaths of so many strangers, and the tough decision he had made and would forever second-guess. But there was more, more that Sam himself didn't recognise: how skilfully he had improvised in circumstances that would have made most men, even most hunters, hesitate; how naturally Sam took charge and how easily others, even an FBI agent, followed him; that Sam hadn't balked at that tough choice, indeed he accepted it as a decision he had to make. He weighed the options and made a call. John could not have been more proud of Sam.
"No 'but', Sam," he assured him. "No criticism. I wasn't sure before, but I am now. You're ready."
Sam was leaning back against the rail, his empty plate balanced on one knee. The breeze caught his hair and Sam raised a hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes. His frown deepened as he met John's eyes. "Ready for what?" he demanded, his voice now heavy with suspicion.
John returned his look steadily. "To lead this fight, Sam."
"Lead it?" Sam repeated. He sounded scared.
He should have outgrown that fear by now, John thought. "I told you a minute ago that you have choices. Avoiding this war isn't one of them."
Sam nodded grimly. "I know I have to kill Lilith."
Straight to the essentials. John was grateful for that, as it allowed him to be equally blunt. "The demon planned for you to lead his army. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah." The single word held a great deal of bitterness.
"He groomed you for that role, Sam. He enhanced your abilities to give you the power to lead that army. To lead, Sam, not simply to fight."
"What - what are you saying?"
"None of this will be easy. I don't know if we can win. But you are the one meant to fight this fight."
There was a great deal that John could not say. He suspected almost from the beginning that Sam was the real target of whatever killed Mary. Over the years John learned the truth in bits and pieces. When he first heard rumours of a future demonic army, Sam was twelve years old. That was the day John first faced the possibility that he might have to kill his own son. The thought was so terrible it forced John to consider other things, other ways. He raised his boys as hunters in the hope Sam would be armed against the demon when the time came.
Sam was shaking his head. "No. Dad, no."
"Sam, I never wanted this life for you. No father would want this for his children. I tried to prepare you both for this war because I knew you couldn't avoid it. I always expected you to mind my orders - " John saw Sam react. "Yes, Sam, I know you hated it. Did you ever ask yourself why?"
"Why you ordered us around like kids?"
"No, why you could never take orders. Sam, you were kids."
"I hated it because...you didn't trust us. Me."
John didn't think that was the real reason. It had more to do with Sam's respect for him. John knew he'd lost that respect somewhere along the way and Sam had inherited John's own stubborn streak. He wasn't very forgiving.
"You hated it because you're not a follower. You were born to lead, Sam. That's what you have to do now."
"You say that like there's an army out there waiting for me. Who's going to follow me, Dad?"
John smiled, "Dean will, for one. Sounds like he already is. Sam, he's the person you trust the most. He'll stop you crossing lines, the way he did in Monument, but he's also a hell of a good soldier."
"I don't give Dean orders. He's my brother. And two of us against Lilith and a hundred demons? That's not an army, Dad. That's just our life."
"Two of you is where you start, Sam. There are others who will follow you. Bobby will, I'm sure." He met Sam's eyes steadily. "So will I. And Ellen has contacts - "
Sam laughed. "You'll take my orders? What have you done with my dad?"
"I'm serious, Sam." John kept eye contact, begging Sam to believe him. "I'm not promising it'll be easy for me, or that we won't end up fighting again at some point. But I do know how to take orders as well as give them." He stood, walking a few steps down to the grass. "Think about it, son. Azazel expected you to lead his army. It stands to reason that leadership would have included taking care of Azazel's rivals. The power to defeat Lilith, and any other demon who tries to fill those shoes, is within you, Sam."
Sam's eyes went very wide. He was quiet for a moment. "Maybe you're right. But, Dad, if I do this - and I'm not saying I will - you have to trust me to do it."
John nodded. "You think I can't." He understood Sam's doubts. John shared many of them. It wouldn't be easy to take orders after so many years of relying only on himself. He wasn't even certain this was the right thing to do, but it was the only thing that made sense of David's prophecy.
"I think you won't. Dad, if I do this, I'll have Ruby on the team, too."
John's breath stopped in his throat. "Sam, no. You can't really believe you can trust her?"
"She's a demon. I know. She kills without remorse and doesn't give a damn about innocents caught in the crossfire. She also saved my life and Dean's more than once when she didn't have to. She's earned the benefit of the doubt from me." Sam looked at John, frowning. "But that's not the point. The point is you don't trust my judgement."
John considered that. Sam was right. Whatever John's opinion of Ruby, if he trusted Sam, this was the time he had to show it. But...Ruby?
He took a deep breath. "Alright, son. Where Ruby's concerned, I have a grudge. I'll admit that could cloud my judgement, but it doesn't change what she is."
"I know what she is. It's not too far from what I am, now."
Oh, God... "Sam, that's not - "
"Yes, it is." Sam made an abrupt gesture as if dismissing the issue. "Where are they? I see the group at two o'clock."
John took the question to mean discussion closed. "Another at eleven," he reported. Third further down the track. Two in positions you can't see from here."
"And the last?"
"Far side of the lake."
"Then they're only watching. They're not close enough for an assault."
"Don't be too sure of that," John warned.
"I am sure," Sam disagreed. "Demons can use spells from a distance but their own powers have limited range. So why the Custer routine?"
"You've got that backward," John corrected him.
"Shut up, I'm thinking."
John shut up.
Sam closed his eyes, lifting his face as if to catch the sun. He was silent for a long moment. "She's not out there," he said finally. They're just cannon fodder."
John stared at Sam. "How can you be sure?" he asked.
Sam grimaced. "Since last night, I can't turn it off. It's easier if I..." he hesitated, searching for the words. "It's like a pressure valve, you know? Better to let some of the steam escape than have it explode."
The comparison didn't make John any happier. "Son, are you...okay?"
Sam looked at him, then, his mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "It's a bit late to be asking me that, isn't it? Give me Ruby's knife."
"What are you going to do?" John asked. For the first time, he was truly worried.
"Nothing drastic. I just want to talk to her. She wants the knife back, so if I have it, she'll come."
Sam waited for his father to close the cabin door behind him. He expected John to watch. John had always run his family like a military unit and, no matter what he said, Sam didn't believe he could give up control or command easily.
The day before, Sam had a plan to go after Lilith alone. Today, he needed a new plan.
Dad really thought Sam could lead this fight. Sam already knew he couldn't avoid the battle, but leading others was something else entirely. If he did this, he would be responsible for their lives. It felt like a real, physical weight settling on his shoulders.
Sam walked down the cabin steps until he stood outside the cabin's magical protections. The grass was soft beneath his boots; the air still cool from the night's rain.
He touched the hilt of Ruby's knife in his belt. "Ruby," he said aloud. He spoke softly, confident she would hear if she wanted to.
"You called?"
Sam whirled around. Ruby sat on the hood of the Impala, posed like a Playboy centrefold except she was fully dressed: she lounged back on the car with her legs apart, one high-heeled boot hooked into the chrome.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Better not scratch the fender. Dean will kill you slowly."
"What do you want, Sam?" Ruby slid gracefully down from the car and came toward him.
"That spell you were going to use in Monument. Can you teach me how to do it?"
Ruby's mouth dropped open, her eyes flew wide. He had managed to surprise her. Wow: there really was a first time for everything.
"Well," Sam pressed, "can you?"
She shook her head firmly. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because it won't do you any good. I don't see any virgins around here."
Sam smiled, and he knew it didn't reach his eyes. It was a cold smile, "I don't need the spell for this. I might need it later." An idea was beginning to form at the back of his mind. It was pretty extreme. But it just might make the difference in this war.
Ruby looked around them pointedly, picking out each place where Lilith's demons were hiding. "Seems to me you've got your work cut out," she suggested.
"Which is why I don't have time to dick around with you. Will you teach me the spell, or not?"
Ruby crossed her arms stubbornly. "Sam, that's a witch's spell. Do you want to sell your soul for it? Because I'm not in the market."
It would only work for a witch? Sam hadn't counted on that. "Wait a moment. Witches get their power from demons, right?"
Ruby nodded curtly. "And the demon gets the witch's soul in exchange. Usually a whole lot more, too."
Sam pressed on. "But my power comes from a demon, too. Wouldn't that mean the spell should work for me?"
He had surprised her again. Ruby stared at him for an instant before she covered the expression with her usual sardonic smile. "It might. I can't guarantee it." She looked Sam up and down. "Alright. If you think you've got the stones to pull it off this time, I'll show you the spell. But I want something in exchange."
Sam had expected that. Ruby was the only demon Sam could consider dealing with, but although he trusted her to an extent, she was still a demon. A demon always had to get the better of any bargain. They always ask more than you're really willing to pay: that was why Dean only got a year to live when he made his deal. If Ruby's price was reasonable, Sam would pay it. He was afraid she would ask for his dad. John hadn't shared the details of what happened between them, but Sam knew his dad and demons. He knew how ruthless John could be.
"You look scared, Sammy. What's wrong? Afraid I want your soul after all?" Ruby raised a hand as if to touch him; Sam backed off a step, avoiding her touch.
"No. What do you want?"
"I want my knife. And I want it now. Before we talk about the spell."
Sam let out the breath he had been holding. He took the knife from his belt, flipped it over in his hand and offered it to her, hilt first. "It's yours."
Ruby took the knife from him. "Alright, Sam. You've got a deal."
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