Entry tags:

#complete, *log, dean winchester (end!verse), sam winchester

Who:Dean (end!verse) and Sam Winchester
What: Dean is in a bad way
Where: Starting at Sam’s office, moving on from there
When: Tonight
Warnings: Violence, language, and these boys (as well as the people who care about them) will never be the same. Also, 1100 words!

Part of him knew he wasn't thinking clearly. Of course Sam was just Sam. He helped the city’s wayward souls but otherwise kept to himself and didn't cause trouble. He'd been the one to reach out to Dean before, after the whole incident with Cas, and he’d barely made a peep during the whole forced marriage deal, even when he’d been tethered to a vampire. He was one of the true good guys, and he was about to become a father...The baby was a whole other issue Dean needed to confront, but first things first, and Lucifer himself took that distinction.

Lucifer good at blending in when it served his purpose to blend in. Lucifer could easily mimic Sam’s mannerisms, even his behavior to the point of fooling everyone-even Dean. He wasn't the second most powerful being in all of creation without good reason. Well, Dean wasn't fooled by the facade- not anymore-and tonight he was going to do something about it once and for all.

"Dean, "Sam looked up from some forms he was signing. Everyone else had left the for the night, Dean had prowled through the garage to make sure Sam was alone. He smiled, completely unsuspecting, but Dean wasn't fooled by his appearance of innocence.

"Hey, Sam, "Dean replied through gritted teeth. He hated pretending. He leaned against the doorframe, and wished he hadn't lost Ruby’s knife. He knew it would be ineffective against Lucifer, but it would be a weapon, a blade to damage the vessel, even if that vessel was Sam. He didn't want to hurt Sam, but realistically he knew Sam was already hurt beyond repair. Sam was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Most people couldn't survive demon possession, and Lucifer wasn't just any demon, he was the father of demons, the father of lies.

"What's up? "Sam asked. He slapped the file closed and set it aside. "I'm just finishing up, if you want to grab dinner. Or, "Sam tilted his head, giving Dean an amused look, "a beer?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah, something like that." He pushed off the door frame and moved in to Sams office. No, his mind corrected-this was Lucifer's office. San was long gone, only his body remained, inhabited by the devil.

"Okay. Sounds good. "Sam stood and stretched. "Let me just check in with Dean and Claire, let them know I won't be home for dinner."

Dean went back to the office door, without a word to Sam. This actually worked in his favor. His other self might know 'Sam' was with him, but no one would worry. Even after last night, they'd assume Sam was safe with him, hell they'd probably assume Sam was helping settle him down. All the better.

Sam sent the message, then grabbed his jacket. He motioned Dean out, and easily followed. He locked his office, and the brothers walked out together.

*~**~*~*~*~*

An hour or so later, he really couldn’t say how long it had been, Sam was only vaguely aware of the table under his back, and the ceiling above his head, which wasn’t exactly a ceiling at all. At least not in terms of a building. He was aware of the musty smell of earth, raw dirt and somewhere off to the left he could hear the faint trickle of a small stream.

He remembered working late. He’d been in his office when Dean came in. It was the older Dean, Sam didn’t generally see much off him. He certainly didn’t seek Sam out very often. Sam had been a little thrilled, if he was honest. He cared for the two versions of his brother equally, but he was decidedly closer with the younger version. He rarely saw this one, and he was happy to spend some time with him.

After that, it was all a blur. He remembered walking out of his office, stopping to lock the door. The next thing he knew, he was waking up right where he was. His arms and his legs were bound to the table, a belt held him down across the middle, across his hips, his forehead, and under his chin.

He couldn’t really move his head, he wasn’t even sure he could talk. He managed to push Dean’s name through his teeth. He half expected that Dean would be similarly restrained on a table near by, perhaps in another area of the cave. But no, that thought was shattered when Dean came in to view, looking down on him with hate and disgust in his eyes, and a knife in hand.

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, then pound louder and faster than he could ever recall. He’d been in some pretty dicey situations. He’d been tied down in a similar fashion more than once, But it was never his brother who held him prone.

“You think you’re so clever,” Dean hissed. “Pretending to be my brother.” He put the tip of the knife to Sam’s chest, right between his nipples. It was only then that Sam realized he had been stripped naked before he’d been bound. Dean dragged the knife downward, barely touching his skin, certainly not enough to cut. Sam’s eyes went wide, and he felt sweat start to bead on his forehead.

He couldn’t find his voice to beg Dean to stop. He couldn’t ask Dean to think about what he was doing, couldn’t ask him why or what he was talking about.

“Well, I’m on to you, Lucifer.” Lucifer? Sam blinked rapidly. Dean came from a fucked up future where Sam had allowed Lucifer to take him as a vessel, but he’d thought they were past all that. Sam hadn’t even known he was tapped to be the vessel, when he came to Colligo. Then Crowley had come along, with information about how Sam said yes, and threw Lucifer back in to hell, deviating considerably from Dean’s reality.

Dean stepped back. Sam couldn’t see what he was doing, but it wasn’t hard to figure he was dipping the knife he held in to some mixture. “I’d rather see Sam dead, than have you wearing him like a cheap suit.” Dean stepped back toward the table, jerked his wrist, quickly and cleanly stabbing Sam in the guy. He felt the searing pain, not only from the blade, but also salt and holy water. Sam’s scream echoed, and careened against the walls of his mind.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean murmured, jabbing the knife into the mixture again. Sam could see the pink tint from his blood mixing with the salt. “But there isn’t any other way.”