Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5940577.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester_&_Sam_Winchester, Weecest
      Relationship/Wincest_Relationship
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Blood, Blood_Drinking, Brother/Brother_Incest, Sibling_Incest, Cruelty,
      Underage_-_Freeform, Implied/Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Underage_Rape/Non-
      con
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-07 Updated: 2016-02-24 Chapters: 5/? Words: 6075
****** Blood On Our Hands ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Sam has been kidnapped when he was four, ever since Dean and John try
     to find him, even though John basically gave up and only drinks
     anymore. But Dean knows his brother is still alive. When he comes
     back four years later though he's different. And, despite Dean not
     knowing it, he's very dangerous.
Notes
     This one will be a very dark Weecest fic, I'll add new warnings as
     the story progresses bc I don't know what will happen yet. But it
     will be triggering and sick at times, you have been warned.
***** Chapter 1 *****
They lose Sam during a case, despite losing not being the right word. He is
kidnapped. Four years old and kidnapped, without John and Dean being able to
find him. No one knows where he is, no one has even seen him. It’s only four
years later, during a night as dark as all nights since Sam is gone, that he
comes back. John is passed out on the creaky motel bed like every night;
whiskey and bourbon are his family now, there’s barely room for Dean anymore.
They are still looking, but they both lost hope.
Losing Sam changed John, despite him never loving him as much as Dean; because
Sam was different. Had always been, they both know it, both felt it. Dean
remembers how cold Sam had always been when he crawled into his crib at night,
even as a baby. Once older, Sam always seemed like he was a lively child, but
Dean felt that he wasn’t, that in reality he wanted to sit down and don’t do
anything.
Dean plays with the idea of stealing some of his dad’s booze for quite a while
now, the old man wouldn’t even notice with the sheer amount he drinks, but he
doesn’t. Right now Dean is the only one who still wants to find his brother,
who still won’t believe he’s dead. It’s like he just knows.
The knock on the door, shortly after midnight, makes the twelve year old
cringe. He doesn’t know who it is, could be a monster as far as he knows; and
his dad is blacked out until morning, no way to wake him. So Dean does what
he’s been taught, gets the shotgun from behind the door and loads it.
“Who is this? We’re trying to sleep!”
It’s silent for a long time; so long, in fact, that Dean thinks whoever it was
out there is gone again. And then he can hear it, a voice he never thought he
would hear again, silent under the wind outside. Only one word, but it’s enough
to make him forget all his cautiousness.
“Dean.”
The weapon hits the floor when Dean already opens the door. It’s not a
hallucination, he had feared that for a moment. It’s definitely his brother,
even if the last four years changed him. Long, brunette hair, sticky and
crusted with what looks like dirt, his face a mask of absolutely nothing. His
eyes are dull, the pretty face bruised from whatever he had gone through; but
the worst is seeing all at once. His clothes are dirty and ripped, he doesn’t
even wear shoes and his hands are covered in blood. Sam looks like a walking
corpse.
It’s Sam, but when Dean rushes forward and pulls him into his arms, the brother
he thought was lost forever, he can feel that at the same time he’s not Sam
anymore. But right now what is important is that he’s there, whatever happened;
they’ll fix it somehow, fix his brother.
“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean whispers, small hands closing behind him slowly; clinging
on him in a desperation he never saw in his brother before. He picks him up
easily, Sam is barely weighting anything, only flesh and bones, but it doesn’t
matter. Sammy is back and thank god for however it was possible.
Dean can’t see that Sam’s eyes turn dark behind his back for a second, that his
hands clench to fists and his knuckles turn white. The blood on his hands is
dry, weeks ago it had been shed, but Sam is glad that it’s Dean who came to the
door, Dean who was so much easier than John. When he carries the cold body of
his brother inside Sam smiles, but it’s a smile that would send shivers down
Dean’s spine if he’d see it.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Sam is different, but Dean doesn't know how different until it's too
     late already. His brother is hungry.
Before even thinking about something else Dean takes Sam into the bathroom. He
stinks of death and blood and dirt, all smells Dean doesn’t associate with the
brother he knows and that he wants to rub off him the best he can. Sam acts
weird, when Dean lets him go his hands don’t stop clinging, Dean has to rip him
off his shirt almost.
“Hey, it’s okay, Sammy. I’m here, I won’t let you go again.” He blames it on
whatever happened, on Sam being scared of this being a dream, much like Dean is
himself.
It takes long until he even managed to get all the blood off Sam’s hands, his
brother so silent and absent as if he’s out of this world. Maybe he is, Dean
thinks to himself. Whatever happened, he was away for four years and no one
just copes with that easily.
“C’mon, Sammy, time to take a bath.”
Since Sam doesn’t react his brother carefully gets the clothes off him, stiff
and stinking from the blood and dirt. He throws them into a corner and lifts
him up to put him down in the tub. Now, for the first time, he draws a
reaction. An almost panicked look when Sam grabs his shirt, his lips moving
without sound. Dean frowns.
“Do you want me to come in?” he asks carefully and after a few moments Sam
nods. “Okay, wait a minute.”
Dean gets out of his clothes too, glad that Sam at least seems to be aware of
what’s happening, even if his reactions are sloppy and slow. When he climbs
into the bathtub too he notices just how lost and skinny his little brother
looks and it’s a horrible sight. Dean turns on the water, watching Sam closely
as he holds a hand under it, letting it run over his skin. He doesn’t even
flinch and the water is hot.
“Sammy, you alright?” Dean asks carefully and again Sam gives him a look with
those empty eyes, so dark that he can see his reflection in them. His lips
part, but that’s all. Not a sound comes from his brother.
Dean sighs heavily, then starts cleaning Sam. He’s not doing anything on his
own, but Dean doesn’t mind, he had done this when he was younger too. As
careful as he can he pulls Sam around, back towards him, and washes the dirt
out of his hair. The water becomes dirty immediately, but soon the familiar
brown is back. They only take ten minutes, ten silent and long minutes in which
Dean can’t help but worry about what happened to his baby brother. Except from
his name he didn’t say anything else.
When he dries Sam it feels like he’s drying a piece of dead meat. He’s colder
than ever, the expression on his face so emotionless that it almost feels like
he doesn’t have a soul anymore. Heartbreaking sight for his brother, who feared
he might be dead for over four years. He even has to dress him, but he only has
his own shirt; all of Sam’s clothes are long gone, burned in a drunk rage their
dad had two years ago. Dean pulls the shirt over his head, gently pushing the
still wet streaks of hair behind Sam’s ear.
“I got you, okay Sammy?” he says, more to himself than to his brother. He knows
he can hear him, he could talk if he wanted; but he doesn’t. “Come, you gotta
sleep. Tomorrow it’ll bet better, promised.”
He carries Sam into his own room, not even bothering to try and wake up their
dad in the other. Sam’s arms are lazily wrapped around his neck, but when he
tries laying him down he hold onto him.
“Dean.”
Again just a whisper, a broken and cracked voice, and it’s breaking Dean. He
wraps his arms around Sam as he lays down himself, careful not to squish the
weak body next to him.
“It’s okay, you’ll stay here. I’ll protect you.” Empty words, more to calm
himself down, but Dean hopes Sam will believe him. He lost him once, no chance
he’d lose him again. Sam makes a noise, not more than a snarl, but he lays
still next to Dean and that’s something at least. Despite not thinking he can
fall asleep Dean is out within minutes, holding his little brother.
Sam doesn’t sleep, he watches. He watches his brother, the same creepy smile on
his face than before. Yes, it’s right that Dean worries so much. He’ll protect
him from John, he won’t ask questions. When Dean is deep asleep Sam leans
forward, his face buried against the crook of his brother’s neck. He inhales
his scent, a mixture of gun powder, sweat and blood; and can barely stop
himself from tasting it.
Two hours after Dean fell asleep he wakes up to a strange noise, like glass
being shattered. He darts up, staring at the empty space next to him; and
panics.
“Sammy!”
Sounds from the bathroom, muffled through the closed door. Dean jumps up,
bursting into the room and revealing red everywhere. Red and his brother on the
floor, his mouth dripping from blood. Dark eyes stare at him, the innocent face
smeared with blood. Sam reaches out to Dean with his hands, grabbing into the
air. Dean covered his mouth with a hand and steps back, his feet leaving bloody
traces on the white floor, but he doesn’t care.
Sam isn’t alone in the bathroom. There’s a leg hanging over the bathtub, a
girl’s leg, Dean can tell. He even saw it before, it’s the girl next door, the
one who told Dean to stare somewhere else with his dirty eyes just this
evening. He turns around, rushing out of the door and throws up in front of the
motel room, nothing but yellow bile; the bitterness not even half way covering
the dryness in his mouth. His stomachs keeps tightening, but there is nothing
more to come, it’s just dry and painful.
It takes him five minutes until he’s able to go back, back to Sam who’s still
sitting on the bathroom floor, looking at him with his big eyes, dooming him
when he picks him up and wraps his arms around him.
“Oh, Sammy… what have you done?”
Sam nuzzles his face against Dean, hands closed behind his brother’s neck, and
smiles.
“She tasted funny.”
It’s all he says, but the words send a cold down Dean’s spine nonetheless. She
tasted funny. His little brother just told him a girl he killed tasted funny
and all he can think of is how they will get out of this mess again. He pulls
Sam closer as he lays back down on the bed, tears streaming down his face.
“We’ll fix it Sammy, don’t worry.”
Dean doesn’t sleep anymore, but Sam does. He just can’t let him go again, can’t
risk more blood on his hands than there already is now. He doesn’t know what’s
wrong with him, but he knows he’ll fix it. Somehow he will fix his brother and
everything will be good again.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Dean had thought his dad would even be a little glad Sam is back, but
     he's not even close to glad and Dean has to make a horrible decision.
Dean doesn’t know what to do. His brother, barely eight years old, cowers
behind him on the bed, clinging on Dean’s shirt with his little hands, their
dad in front of him, pointing a gun at Sam.
“Move, son.” John commands, his voice as icy as Sam’s touch.
“Dad, no! He didn’t do it on purpose okay? Something got into him!” Dean is
crying by now, ever since their dad found the mess Sam had caused the night
before he did his best to protect the younger one from him, but he knew it was
of no use to argue. “He’s just a kid!”
“A kid? He’s a monster, Dean! Have you seen the girl’s face? It’s gone!”
Dean cringes, he didn’t had the heart to go back into the bathroom. He knows
enough to be scared too, but damn, Sam is back, isn’t that what they both
wanted for years?
“Dean.”
It’s like a dart through his heart, this innocent and sweet voice, whispering
his name. Dean can’t risk looking at Sam, but he wraps an arm around him
protectively.
“We can fix him! I won’t let you take Sammy away from me again!”
“If you don’t move I’ll shoot you and him. Your choice.” His dad’s voice is
stern, the look in his eyes full of disgust and hate. The gun he lowered before
raises again; and Dean’s heart almost stops. He means it. He will shoot Dean,
then Sam and he’ll just leave and forget he ever had children.
“Dad, please.” Dean wraps his arms around his brother, tears streaming down his
face.
It all happens so fast that he doesn’t know how it happened later. Suddenly
he’s pushed away from Sam, only a split-second later he hears the shot. But
what he sees then, what happens with the bullet when everything seems to be in
slow motion; he can’t process it. It’s melting. There’s only a small puddle on
the floor, but before Dean can even think about anything else his dad flies
through the room too; pinned against the wall and his clothes are smoking. He
hears him scream, but it’s not him he looks at; it’s Sam.
His eyes are burning, as if flames were lit behind them. And the smile on his
lips… it’s even worse than what Sam said the night before, after Dean found him
in the bathroom. He just sits there, hands clenched to fists on the bed, eyes
piercing through their dad – and smiles. And Dean has never seen something so
bone chilling and creepy. Sam enjoys it, enjoys inflicting pain to his own dad;
who’s screaming like he’s dying right now. And he is, Dean thinks; and that’s
what snaps him out of his state.
He runs over to Sam, grabs his shoulders and blocks his brother’s eye contact
with his dad. When Sam looks into his eyes Dean feels hot and sweaty, but he
forces himself to speak, even if it hurts.
“Sammy, stop it, please! You’re killing him!”
For a few seconds Dean fears he didn’t hear him, that he will burn him now,
instead of their dad. But then his eyes finally clear, he can see this horrible
gleam vanish and then the heat is gone too.
“He wanted to hurt you.” Sam says with this voice that he used the night
before, but this time Dean just ignores the danger in it and pulls him against
his chest. Their dad had stopped screaming and when he turns around he sees
that he is not hurt, not visibly at least.
“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean whispers and brushes through Sam’s soft hair, rocking
him back and forth. “It’s over, it’s okay now.”
“Okay?” His dad laughs, the sarcasm so strong that Dean wants to cry again. He
just doesn’t know what to say to make it better, what to do to fix his brother.
“This is what you want to protect, Dean! That’s not your brother anymore, he’s
a monster and he’s dangerous!”
Sam tries to move, tries to look back at John, probably to do whatever the hell
he did before, but Dean isn’t going to let him. He holds him close, prevents
any eye contact between the two as he looks at the man at the window; the one
who should protect them and instead just shot at his own sons.
“The only monster here are you!” He hisses, glaring daggers into him. “What is
wrong with you?”
“So that’s it, yes?” John stands up completely now, his eyes shifting between
the gun in his hands and his boys. “You’re protecting a monster that tried to
kill me now?”
“He’s my brother!” Dean yells, tears shimmering in his eyes again. “You tried
to kill him first!”
There is a heavy silence after Dean’s words, but he’s not going to take them
back. Yes, Sam changed, something very bad is happening with him, but he only
wanted to protect them both. He just stares at their dad and tries to calm Sam
down somehow, Sam who just came back and who he barely knows anymore. He just
knows that whatever happens now, he won’t let him go again.
“You’ll go.”
Dean is surprised by his dad’s words, doesn’t understand what he means. Go? If
they go he’ll shoot their backs before they are out of the door, he knows it.
“Leave. I don’t even want to see your faces again. I don’t care if he burns
you, Dean, but when he does don’t scream for me; because I won’t come.”
Dean is left thunderstruck when his dad leaves the room and he can hear him
packing his duffle bag. Five minutes later the door is slammed shut and then
there’s only silence.
“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice back to the innocent whisper from before, and Dean
sighs, pulling him closer.
“It’s okay, we will make it. We don’t need him, right? You got your big
brother, I’ll protect you.”
He hopes his words won’t turn out to be a lie. A twelve year old and an eight
year old who melts bullets and can apparently burn people from the inside?
Where on earth could they go to be safe? Sam lets go of his shirt and Dean just
starts packing their stuff together. He’s not going to clean up the mess in the
bathroom, all he hopes is that they’ll be far enough away so they won’t get
into trouble. And in the end they’d probably blame his dad for it, grown men
were more likely to kill young girls than kids.
After ten minutes Dean’s bag is packed and he managed to find some pants that
are too small for him to give them to Sam. Of course he has to roll them up a
few times and he still wears no shoes, but they have to go. Dean collected the
torn clothes from his brother from the bathroom and got rid of any evidence
that he was here at all before he takes his little brother’s hand and looks
into his eyes.
“Ready to leave, Sammy?”
Sam looks up at him, his eyes big and round, almost like he remembers them; but
not quite. There’s something he doesn’t understand, something dark that lies
behind the pretty hazel color. After a few moments Sam nods and leans against
Dean a little.
“Ready.” He says and dean nods sadly.
The day is bright, spring in South Dakota. Any other day Dean would have
enjoyed it, but now he was just scared and sad, gripping his little brother’s
hand so tight that he feared he would break it soon. They leave the motel and
even though Dean doesn’t know what to do and is scared to the core of his
existence he knows he has to protect his little brother. He’s the only one Sam
has left and it doesn’t matter what he is or what happened. He’s still Sammy
and needs him.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Their way isn't as easy as Dean thinks once he knows where to go,
     especially not with Sam getting loose again.
Whatever happened to Sam during those four years, Dean quickly realizes that
this isn’t his brother anymore. He looks like Sammy, he sometimes talks like
Sammy, but there is something so dark in him, so horribly wrong, that Dean can
barely look at him. He knows the real Sam is still in there somewhere, he just
has to be. Dean can’t stand the thought alone of his little brother being gone
forever.
They travel at night, mostly because Dean doesn’t want to risk something like
before again, and during the day Sam seems to be – calmer. Maybe calm is the
wrong word, he’s more controlled when the sun is up. So they walk through the
night, two kids that don’t know where to go and sometimes Dean carries his
little brother, without even knowing why. Maybe because he doesn’t want to see
him, this excuse is as good as any other. Looking at Sam hurts him.
It hits Dean a week after they left their dad and he feels so dumb for not
thinking about this any sooner. Bobby lives here! They basically walked in
circles for the last week, but Bobby’s house is literally only two towns away
from the motel they left. This is the first time they walk during the day,
because Dean knows if they just reach Bobby they’ll be good, Bobby will make it
right again; he always did. Without a phone or remembering his number they have
to rely on strangers though, a dangerous game with Sam.
After two hours of Dean carrying his little brother along the road and holding
up his thump he’s about to give up and just walk the whole way to Sioux Falls,
when suddenly a young woman hits the breaks. Dean runs over to her, carefully
checking the car’s backseats while walking up to her window.
“Are you boys lost?” The woman asks worried and Dean can see that she’s barely
old enough to drive, still almost a girl. He puts on his most charming smile
and nods.
“I was camping with my brother and we got lost in the woods.” He explained,
gently shifting Sam on his back to pretend he was way too heavy. “Do you come
through Sioux Falls? Our uncle lives there and we’re spending some weeks with
him. I’m sure he’s worried sick, I was supposed to call him yesterday.”
“Of course, sweetie. It’s a little off my route, but I’ll take you there.” She
smiles and unlocks the car doors. Dean noticed they were locked before of
course, or else Sam would already be in the backseats. “Hop in, it’s not that
far away.”
“Thank you so much!” Dean says overly relieved and manages to lay Sam down in
the back, without him waking up. Once the door is closed he walks around the
car, slips into the backseats and rests Sam’s head on his lap. “My brother fell
asleep and I couldn’t have walked any longer.”
“Don’t worry, dear. We will be there before you know it.”
Dean lays his head against the window when the car drives off, hoping so much
that he’s right when going to Bobby. After John tried to kill them and kicked
them out, where else can they possibly go? Bobby’s the only chance Dean has to
at least find out what the hell is wrong with Sammy. He lets out a sigh and
closes his eyes; just a minute he tells himself. Just a minute to collect
himself and to fight the exhaustion that’s taking over him.
He wakes up to a high-pitched scream and then he’s thrown around in the car,
crashing against the window with force. Dean rips his eyes open and all he can
see is that the world is starting to turn. The car broke out and rolls over,
Sam crashing against him and he holds him tight, trying to stop him from taking
another bite from the girl, who’s still screaming like a banshee. They both get
thrown around again and again, glass raining on them and metal screeching; a
nightmare that only ends when the car hits a tree. The last impact makes Dean
hit his head hard on the metal of the roof, almost knocking him out. And Sam…
Sam is already gone from his arms, his teeth sinking into the neck of the girl
over and over. Dean blinks, tries anything to stay awake, but what he sees
isn’t his brother. What he sees is what his dad saw: a monster, bathing in the
blood of an innocent girl.
It takes Dean a minute to drag himself up, to get a hold of Sam somehow. He
grabs his brother’s blood soaked shirt and pulls him back, his hand screaming
from pain; but he doesn’t care. Sam, or whatever he is, needs to get away, they
need to get away or there won’t be an escape this time. He can feel blood
running into his eyes, blurring his vision. The door is bent and completely
useless, so Dean does the only thing he can think of and tries to get the
remaining glass slinters out of the window before crawling through it. He tries
pulling Sam out too, but his brother is fighting, kicking and growling; all to
get back to finish what he started. Tears shoot into Dean’s eyes at the sight
of his baby brother losing it all.
“Stop it, Sammy!” He yells, a desperate cry in the afternoon sun that’s burning
down on them. For a moment Sam looks at him, turning his head in a horrible
angle that hurt even looking at. The smile on his lips showed teeth, red from
blood, as well as his lips. However, Sam stopped. With one last pull that makes
his arms ache and tense Dean gets the younger one out of the car; both brothers
falling down on the grass. Still, Dean won’t let go of the bloody shirt in his
hand, not even while he’s shaking from the sobs. He wasn’t able to prevent it,
again. Sam killed someone and he didn’t stop him.
“Dean?”
He doesn’t want to look up, not into that face that will look so innocent
again, as if Sam didn’t just bite a girl to death, a girl that didn’t do
anything. And yet, Dean forces his eyes open and looks at the blood covered
face that he loves so much.
“’s okay, Sammy. We’ll get to Bobby and it’ll be okay…” Dean sighs and lets his
head fall back. There are definitely broken rips, he can feel them while he’s
breathing. It hurts like a bitch. When he looks back up Sam is there, looking
down at him with an almost blank expression. The smile from before is gone, his
eyes just dull and lifeless. Dean can’t stand this gaze and forces himself up,
despite the pain. Anything to not look into Sam’s eyes and see the life being
gone.
He takes Sam’s bloody hand into his and starts walking, at first just dragging
his brother with him until he catches his steps and walks himself. Dean doesn’t
even want to talk, doesn’t know what to say really. If Bobby can’t help them he
has no idea what to do. Their dad was right, something about Sam was so very
wrong that it’s dangerous to let him walk around, he just proved it again.
But he’s my brother… it doesn’t matter what happened, Sammy is my brother.
He really wants to believe his own words, but how can he? Sam killed two girls,
at least. He enjoyed what he did, hell, he even ate them! What on earth had
happened that his baby brother became so monstrous?
“Dean, I’m hungry.” Sam mumbles from behind and Dean stops his steps. He turns
around, staring at those big and way too innocent eyes and has to fight back a
sarcastic answer, something like: “Wanna go back and finish the girl?” Instead
he shakes his head and brushes his hand through Sam’s hair.
“We’ll be there soon. One, two hours. Just keep walking, okay?”
Sam nods slowly and then, much to Dean’s shock, he wraps his arms around his
big brother’s waist. Dean’s first instinct is to push him away, to just run and
never look back. He feels horrible for these thoughts and bites them back,
carefully holding Sam against him. He feels way too hot, considering he had
always been rather cold, but he has no idea why.
“Don’t leave me, Dean.” Sam whimpers, as if he read his brother’s mind. Dean
can’t help but hold lift Sam on his hips, holding him tight against his chest.
“I’ll never leave you, Sammy.” He promises, trying not to breathe in the bloody
and dark smell Sam has on him. “We’ll fix you, okay? Just… just don’t kill
people anymore. Please, Sammy.”
He doesn’t know if he wants an answer or not, but when Sam speaks he knows he
didn’t want one.
“Don’t let it find me, Dean.” Sam’s voice is just a whisper against the older
one’s neck, his hands holding tight on Dean’s shirt. And he’s shaking like a
leaf in the wind, despite the heat in him.
“Nothing will find you…” Dean has no idea if it’s just a lie or not, but Sam is
scared and Dean won’t let anyone near him, not if he has anything to say about
it. “I’m protecting you.”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Finally they reach Bobby and Dean just hopes things will be better
     now, but it turns out the problem they're facing with Sam is much
     more dangerous than he thought.
Chapter Notes
     I know, the creature responsible for this is not the way lore
     portrays it. Sue me. It fits better this way and since they never
     showed up in canon I felt I could tweak them a little.
“Do you think we can leave him alone, Bobby?” Dean asks a little scared. The
last two times he didn’t look after his brother he killed people and he doesn’t
want Bobby’s on their hands too. Despite what his mind is telling him, he knows
it’s his fault the girls died. He should have been more careful.
“He won’t be able to open the door.” Bobby grunts, patting the thick steel.
“It’s a panic room, son. Demons can’t open it, the little one won’t either.”
“I hope you’re right.” Dean bites his lip and rubs his arm that still hurts
from their accident. Somewhere between the damaged car and Bobby’s house Sam
fell asleep on Dean’s back. He didn’t bother waking him up when he told Bobby
they needed to put him some place safe, where he won’t be able to hurt anyone.
But seeing his little brother in this small room now makes Dean feel like he
failed him.
“Come, ‘ya gotta tell me what happened. And why ‘ya both are covered in blood.”
When the door is closed and Bobby locks it a stone drops into Dean’s stomach.
That’s it, he thinks. That’s what they have to do to prevent Sam from killing
anyone. Lock him away like a monster. Dean turns around and tries to hide his
wet eyes from the old man, but even without seeing his face Bobby knows what
runs through the boy’s head. Somehow he always does. He puts a hand on Dean’s
shoulder, squeezing it slightly before leading him away, assuring him that, if
Sam needs them, they’ll hear him.
Dean doesn’t talk until they are in the living room and even then he fights for
words. He doesn’t even know what happened, how can he explain it to Bobby? All
he knows that his little brother killed two people and enjoyed it. So he just
starts with what happened a week ago, in the motel. He barely gets the words
out at first and when he reaches the point where he found Sam in the bathroom
he breaks out into tears, unable to hold them back. Bobby lets him cry it out,
gives him the time he needs to get himself back together. And after that it’s
easier for Dean to continue. There’s only one time Bobby interrupts him and
that’s a hissed ‘Son of a bitch!’ when he tells him John wanted to kill them.
Dean ends the story almost how it began, with Sam killing that girl in the car.
“We have to help him, Bobby.” Dean sniffs when he’s done, angrily wiping the
tears out of his eyes. “I know something bad happened to him, but I don’t know
what. He’s still Sammy, I know it… somehow he’s still there. It can’t all be
acting, right?”
“Sounds like something’s gotten into him.” Bobby frowns, thinking about what
Dean told him.
“But what? He’s not a demon, not a shapeshifter, not a vampire. So what is he?”
“Tell me again what happened when John shot at you.”
Dean swallows and looks at his hands. “I didn’t see much… just that I was
thrown away from Sam. The bullet dad fired melted and then he screamed. His
clothes… they were smoking. As if he’d catch fire.”
“And then?” Bobby asks, listen closely to Dean’s words and analyzing every
single one of them.
“I stepped between them, forced Sam to look at me and not him. I felt so hot
and sweaty, like I had fever. And then I – I… I told him to stop. Looked like
something in him changed and then it was over.”
He sighs, that’s all he can remember. Other than the fear of course. The fear
of losing Sam and his dad, even if he tried killing them. Because he was scared
too, he knows it.
“So the key is fire.” Bobby mumbles and stands up, walking over to a bookshelf.
“Fire?” Dean is confused. There was no fire, just… heat?
“Pray I’m wrong here, son. ‘Cause if I ain’t we got a problem.” He comes back
with a big book, old and tattered already. Dean swallows when Bobby goes
through it, looking for whatever he had in mind.
It feels like hours until he finally stops and starts reading, a language Dean
doesn’t understand. His face darkens with every other word until he finally
shakes it in frustration.
“Dammit.” He grunts.
“Bobby, what is it? What happened to Sam?” Dean grabs his arm, desperately
needing answers now.
“I’mma need a drink first. ‘Ya too, son. Ya’ll need it.”
Bobby vanishes in the kitchen for a few minutes, bringing back some whiskey and
two glasses. Now Dean is scared to the bones now. If Bobby insists he’s
drinking something like this it can only mean one thing: he won’t be able to
help his brother. Dean doesn’t even protest when Bobby hands him the glass. He
watched his dad drinking often enough over the last years and just does what he
always did. The liquid burns in his throat, so much that he has to press his
eyes together to force the nausea that’s coming up back. He won’t throw up in
Bobby’s living room, no way. Dean is still fighting the burn in his throat when
Bobby starts to speak.
“Ever heard of an Ifrit, kiddo?”
“An… Ifrit?” Dean coughs and looks up.
“’Ya know about Djinns? Pretty sure John ganked one or two. Ifrits are Djinns
too, but they ain’t that nice when they feed on ‘ya.” Bobby explains slowly.
“That thing fed on Sammy?”
“More than that.” Bobby sighs and turns the page to show Dean the picture in
the book.
This thing looks horrible in Dean’s eyes, as if it came straight out of his
nightmares. The skin burned, horns and claws, but what was even worse was what
this thing did. There is a child, maybe four or five, and it’s screaming, the
pain clearly visible on the picture. And the child, it’s not in the creature’s
hands, this thing does something to it that no one should ever do. Never.
“B-Bobby… do they… do they do what it looks like?” Dean’s voice is weak,
defeated. All his hopes that somehow Sam can be alright again are shattered
with this one picture.
“Wish I could tell ‘ya they don’t, but those bastards go full on.” Bobby
growls, shutting the book close and taking it away from Dean’s eyes. “’Ya had
to see this, ‘ya know? Ain’t helping Sam if we pretend he’s fine. ‘Cause he’s
not.”
Dean just stares at the closed book in Bobby’s hands, not even trying to hold
back his tears this time. When Bobby hands him his glass, full again, he
swallows it all without even thinking twice. It still burns like hell, but it’s
nothing against the pain in his chest.
“What do they do, Bobby? What else do they do?” He just has to know.
“Lore says they put the kid’s asleep before, ‘ya know. Drain their life away.
Can’t believe Sam lasted four years, it says they only last a few months at
most.”
“Sammy is strong.”
Bobby doesn’t answer, maybe because he knows. Sam was always different from
other kids, maybe that’s why he survived this. He clears his throat before
continuing, carefully.
“Those kids, they never survive, son. The Ifrit injects its powers into the kid
and it kills them slowly.”
“But Sam is here!” Dean snaps angrily. “He lives!”
“Not sure if that’s good, ‘ya know? Seems like he kept the powers. Maybe he
killed the thing. Maybe he took it by surprise.”
“And how do we turn him back? How do we fix him, Bobby?”
There has to be a way. Even demons can be exorcised, werewolves can live a
normal life most of the time. This can’t be the answer, that there is none.
Dean just stares at Bobby, pleading and begging the last adult he can trust for
help, but there is no help in Bobby’s eyes. There is just sadness.
“We don’t, kiddo.”
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