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Author: leavingslowly
Title: Move the Earth Part 2/2b
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General/Angst
Summary:  Sam and Dean head to New Orleans, and Sam's possession has some unforeseen consequences.  Spoilers 
for BUABS.
Disclaimer:  Not mine!
Author's Note: This story was written for SFTCOL(AR)S Secret Santa Round Two fic exchange. Specifically, it's for you, Bayre . . . I hope you enjoy it!


 

He was floating.

 

His stomach didn’t hurt anymore and Sam finally felt relaxed, like some sort of invisible string had been cut and he was lifting off.   Except he was facing the wrong direction, or he thought he was.  He was pretty sure he was upside down, so he opened his eyes and was surprised to find that he was in the dark. 

 

It was quiet, but not peaceful.  There was something not right, and he flung out his arms, struggling to figure out what was going on.  His fingertips brushed up against something cold and hard, and he frowned. 

 

He tried to stretch again and felt something grip his wrist, then a flood of scalding cold shot through his veins.  A second later a flash of light ripped through the darkness, filling his vision, and an image popped up in his head.  A memory.

 

He could see himself, sitting on the edge of a motel bed holding a hot curling iron over the skin of his inner forearm and talking to himself.  I’ll curl your hair after I’m done, Sam.  Don’t worry, this is only going to hurt like a bitch.

 

The flash of light came again, and he saw some guy in a gas station, his hands held over his head.

 

Don’t shoot me, man.  Please.  Just take the money.  Take whatever you want.

 

Another flash, and there was a middle-aged man in a home office, struggling against him.

 

What do you want from me?!  What are you?!   No!  No!  You son of a bitch, I’m gonna—”

 

Flash

 

I don’t think it’s my blood . . . Dean, I don’t remember anything.

 

Flash

 

Sam, get off me!  Sam!  Get off me!  Let go!  No!  Sam, no, please!  Please!

 

Flash

 

You’re gonna die, Dean.  You and every other hunter I can find.  One look at Sam’s dewy, sensitive eyes, they’ll let me right in the door.

 

 Flash

 

Whatever I do to you, it’s nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it?  I can see it in your eyes, Dean.  You’re worthless.  You couldn’t save your Dad, and deep down, you know that you can’t save your brother.

 

Flash

 

You will be the darkness again.

 

Sam screamed and tried to kick his legs, move his arms—anything to stop the flood of memories.  He felt the hard, cold thing touch his fingertips again, but he couldn’t seem to move beyond it.  Something was holding his wrists and ankles down.  There was a noise too, a beeping sound in the background. 

 

It was a faintly recognizable sound and he calmed down slightly, straining towards it.  The beeping got louder and was joined by voices, calmer than those in his memories.  He still didn’t know what was going on, but he was sure he heard his brother. 

 

“What’s  . . . wrong . . . him?”

 

“ . . . react . . . drugs . . . fine . . . give him . . . different . . .”

 

There was a rush of warmth under his skin, replacing the harsh cold he’d felt earlier, and then there was nothing.

 

 xXXxxXXx

 

Sunlight behind his eyelids and the smell of antiseptic woke Sam from a dreamless sleep.  He opened his eyes to find himself staring at a white cardboard-paneled ceiling.  The beeping of a heart monitor was loud next to his ear, and his arms and legs were strapped to the metal guardrails on his bed.

 

He flexed his fingers, remembering the touch of a hard, cold surface on the tips.   Frowning, he turned his head and was immediately met by his brother’s relieved gaze. 

 

Dean rocked forward in his chair and reached out to grip the side of the bed with one hand.  “Hey, dude.  How are you feeling?”

 

“What happened?” Sam croaked out, coughing at the dryness in his throat.  He winced and before he could blink Dean had stuck something in his mouth. 

 

Sam jerked in shock, nearly choking, and Dean wiggled the cup he was holding.  “Ice.”

 

After his throat was taken care of, Dean leaned forward and undid the cotton straps that bound his wrists and ankles to the bed.  Sam attempted to shift and hissed at the ache in his torso.  He settled for flexing his fingers and toes, watching as Dean sank back in his chair with a sigh.

 

 “Man, Sammy, you sure know how to cause a scene.”

 

Sam frowned and shook his head.   “What happened?”

 

 “You had an ulcer that ruptured.  ” Dean replied, lips tensed in an expression Sam recognized as fear.

 

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “That’s . . . normal.  So what . . .” Sam trailed off.  He knew what he was trying to ask, but things were still fuzzy and he had to work extra hard to get his brain to make connections.  Dean seemed to get what he was trying to ask, though. 

 

 

“Yeah, I know.  I had a bitch of a time explaining the pentagram.  I think they thought I poisoned you and then gave you a bad tattoo.” Dean admitted, shaking his head.  “Morons.”

 

“So what . . .” Sam repeated, trailing off and raising his right hand to glance at his palm.  He was slightly surprised at how heavy his arm felt, but was relieved to see that the pentagram was gone.

 

 “The old voodoo guy said he just wanted to give you protection, that it wouldn’t hurt you.  Guess he was telling the truth.” Dean explained.  He sniffed a little and ran his hand through his hair.  “Guess I’m just so used to supernatural shit, I didn’t think it could be anything else.”

 

“Hey, s’not your fault.” Sam said, relieved that the words sounded like they had some strength behind them.  He shifted a bit and a little more of the fog that was wrapped around him cleared. 

 

“No, no it is.” Dean said, raising a hand when Sam started to interrupt.  “I should’ve taken you to a doctor first.   It’s just, man . . . I guess after what happened with Meg I thought  . . .”

 

Sam was instantly more alert at Meg’s name and raised hurt eyes to meet his brother’s.  “You thought I was going evil again?”

 

“No, God, no.  I just thought something supernatural had to be to blame, cause it sure has for every other freaky thing that’s happened in the last sixth months.”  Dean meant it as a joke, but Sam squirmed uncomfortably and looked down at his folded hands.

 

Dean shoved at the edge of the mattress with his foot, prodding his brother.  “Hey, you finally had a normal problem is all I’m saying.” When Sam still didn’t look up, Dean reached over and nudged his leg.  “Hey, you got me?”

 

“Yeah.” Sam muttered.

 

“Sammy, I didn’t think you were evil.  I thought you’d been cursed.  Huge difference.”

 

Sam scowled and leaned his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.  “Yeah, that makes me feel better . . .  If I hadn’t been evil the guy would never have cast a protection spell on me.  It started because I was evil, Dean.” Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother.  “It’s never gonna end, is it?”

 

Dean shook his head.  “Not if you don’t let it, you big girl.  You were evil, Sam.  You aren’t now. You’ve never been evil, you never will be.  I’ve explained this to you.”

 

A year ago the words would’ve brought Sam comfort, but twelve months had been a lifetime and nothing was the same.  Nothing would ever be the same.  For the first time in their lives, Dean’s promises were nothing but empty hopes in a world that was taking too much from them.

 

 “You can’t promise me those things anymore, Dean.”  

 

Dean looked offended.  “Uh, yeah, I can.  Listen to me, Sammy., you can’t go around thinking the worst all the time.  What Dad said was a contingency plan.   It wasn’t a prophecy.  Even dad didn’t know how to tell the future.”

 

Sam was silent for a moment, then shook his head.  “Dean, I am connected to the Demon and other psychic kids are bad.  The possession was a fluke, yeah, but we can’t ignore what’s happened.  I can’t ignore it.”

 

“Sammy –” Dean started, only to be cut off as Sam kept talking.

 

“You can’t fix everything and you can’t make me believe you can anymore, either.  We’ve gone too far for that.  Too much has happened.”

 

Dean sat back in his chair, lips pursed in an expression that meant he was thinking.  “That may be, but I can fight for you.  When I say I’m going to save you, I mean it.  It’s not a belief, Sammy, it’s a fact.  I’ll die before I ever let anything happen to you.”

 

Sam wiped his hand across his eyes and shook his head.  “I don’t want you to die for me.  I can’t lose you, Dean.”

 

“You won’t.” Dean promised.

 

“Two months ago I shot you, Dean!  I almost killed you!” Sam said, tears burning the corners of his eyes.  A few blinks and they spilled over his lashes and down his cheeks.   Dean looked horrified and leaned back in his chair as far as he could.

 

 “Dude, you didn’t!  I wasn’t even close to death!  A little maimed, maybe, but—”

 

“It’s not a joke!” Sam cried, fisting the blankets in his hands.   The exertion hurt, pulling something in his stomach, but he didn’t back down.

 

Dean sighed and managed to look worried and annoyed at the same time.  “No, man, you’re right.  But . . . listen, you had to be evil when you were possessed.  You didn’t have a choice.  I wasn’t gonna put you down for something that wasn’t your choice.  But you, here, now –you have a choice.  And you’ve chosen to be good.  I’ve known you your whole life.  You’ll always choose to be good.” 

 

“Things always change.” Sam protested.  “If I ever—”

 

“Sam.  You won’t.”

 

“But—”

 

“No.  You won’t.  I won’t let you.”

 

Sam shook his head and a stray tear slipped down his cheek.  “You can’t promise that.  We don’t know what I’m capable of.  I don’t know anymore.”

 

At that, Dean rocked back in his chair and stared at his brother.  “I do.  You’re not gonna hurt me.  I won’t let you.”

 

“You won’t kill me.  Dad told you to kill me.”

 

“I don’t care what Dad said.  He wasn’t always right, and he didn’t . . .”

 

Dean trailed off, looking surprised by whatever he had been going to say, and Sam filled in the words in his head.  Didn’t know you like I do, didn’t love you like I do, didn’t plan on saving you like I do.

 

“Dean . . .”

 

“No, Sam.  I’ll save you.  If I have to move the earth to do it, I’ll save you.”

 

Sam stared at his brother, and Dean stared back.  They stayed that way for a moment before Dean’s eyes started to narrow, and Sam allowed himself a small smile and shook his head.  It still didn’t make things okay, but he was exhausted and he could at least bring Dean some peace, even if he couldn’t take some for himself. 

 

“Dude, only the earth?  What about Heaven?” Sam asked.  “I want Heaven and earth moved.”

 

Dean huffed.  “I don’t believe in Heaven.  I’ll work with what we’ve got going on here, thanks.”

 

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